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Authors: Madeline Hunter

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BOOK: The Sins of Lord Easterbrook
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“My suspicions, and his, fit the facts better than your story does, Christian.”

“There is nothing that I can do about that. I do not expect you to believe me. That would take more trust than you can have and much more than I expect.”

Her face fell. He had never seen her look so sad before.

“Do not tell me what trust I am capable of. I trusted for seven years despite my suspicions. I trusted even after I learned you lied about your identity. I trusted against my better sense. I trusted you enough to give myself and my—” She inhaled deeply and fought for her composure. “The truth is, whatever you did has become a very little thing in light of what I learned two days ago.”

An odd mix of reactions cascaded in him. Worry at her profound sorrow. Relief that he had not caused it. Dismay that even his betrayal would be no more than a very small thing to her.

“What did you learn? Tell me now.”

With a hesitant, miserable voice she described a
visit to the shipper St. John, and the shocking revelation at its end.

“That my father had been a smuggler at all—I could forgive that. I could swallow that if he had worked with those men and that secret company to evade tariffs in the East with cargoes of porcelains and bronzes and cloth.” Her breath caught. “But opium? He hated it. He despised the men who traded in it. He died fighting it. It was an unbelievable accusation and I almost did St. John violence. But—” Again that stricken expression. “I think he told the truth, Christian.”

“Quite likely not. He was bargaining with you. He thought this would make you more pliable.”

She shook her head. “He already has the advantage in any negotiations. He had no reason to lie, although I had a passing vexation that you were not with me so you would know at once if he did.”

He sought a way to convince her that this tale was not true. Her disillusionment pained him and he would lie outright to spare her if he could. He wished he had in fact been there with her, so she would believe him if he discredited St. John's claim.

There was little doubt in her now that it was the truth. Nor in him. It explained why her father had been targeted for so much trouble and coercion.

The goal had not been to force Montgomery into joining the opium smuggling. They sought to coerce him into silence once he broke away from them. And if he had once been part of that ring, he would have cause to know if they worked for nameless men in London, and whether their activities extended to the West, and not only China. Reginald Montgomery's crusade had
been even more dangerous than Christian had previously understood.

It also explained the reference to Montgomery that had sent Christian to him in Macao in the first place. His father's correspondence had not established that connection. Rather Montgomery's name had been in a very private account book, with a series of payments noted.

“It changes everything, of course,” she said. “What a comical figure I must appear to them, whoever they are. Fighting a moral battle against men who were once my father's partners. Small wonder my father did not want me to involve myself, or hand me what he knew so I could finish his work. He feared what I would learn.”

“What have you learned? That many years ago he did this, that is all. He more than made up for it later. He stopped at great cost to himself. He spoke against it, and wrote to the Company and the emperor's officials. He risked everything, and would not bend to their demands that he stop. Perhaps his zeal was twice that of most men because of his past sins.”

She looked at him with an incredibly vulnerable expression in her eyes.

Then she crumbled. She covered her face with her hands, bent low over her lap, and began to cry.

Her weeping dismayed him. What had he said? Hell, he was supposed to be here to help, not—Tong Wei had warned that she was not herself.

He took her into his arms and cursed himself.

She released the horrible emotions that had been burning her heart. Slowly she found some calm. Her composure returned.

His kindness both comforted and embarrassed her. She had allowed herself to think the worst of him, to accuse him of deceit, but he had come here today anyway. He had listened to her sad tale with sympathy. Then he had restored her best memories of her father, and painted a portrait of strength, not hypocrisy, in doing so.

She could not face him. She kept her face buried in his coat even after the sobs ceased wracking her. There were things she needed to say, but her courage failed her. She took refuge in the commonplace instead.

“Were you in Oxfordshire all this time?”

“Most of it. I made a short journey to take care of some family matters.”

Her throat burned again. She held in the tears. “I am sorry about that row we had. I said things that—”

“You have a temper and I do too, so sometimes we will say things that.…”

She smiled at the way he left the
that
unspoken. He could be very wise sometimes. She cuddled closer. The emotion-laden peace reminded her of the mood after they made love.

“I am sorry that I wasted these days,” she whispered. “I wish that I had asked for silks or jewels after all, and not that notebook.”

His kiss pressed her crown. “Then let us make up for the lost time, Leona.”

He stood with her in his arms and carried her toward the house.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

S
ilence. Stillness. The pulse creating utter calm. kJ Higher consciousness in the loss of all awareness.

Floating now. No loss. No fear. No time. No sound.

A disturbance. The center shattering like dark glass.

Christian opened his eyes. Two men stood ten feet away.

“Hello, Hayden. Elliot.”

Hayden sighed. “Damnation, it is like you don't exist when you sit in the dark like this.” He strode over and pulled the drapes open to the night's vague light, then used a flint to flame a lamp.

“You did tell the footman to send us up here,” he added. “Do not dare object if we intruded on.…whatever the hell you were doing.”

“I did not object. I welcomed you.”

“At least he is dressed already, Hayden,” Elliot said.

“Of course I am dressed. The dinner tonight celebrates Caroline's engagement. I need to be there.”

Hayden crossed his arms. “What did you want us for?”

“Sit.”

Hayden glared.

“Please
sit.”

Elliot chuckled and sat. Hayden scowled and did as well.

“I need to speak with both of you about our father.”

Elliot's humor left him.

Hayden's expression softened to something more troubled. Old conflicted emotions poured out of them both.

It had never been clear to Christian whether his brothers had been spared or scarred from not knowing their parents as surely as he did.

“Best to leave that alone,” Hayden said.

“I thought so too. I was happy to damn him without conclusive proof. I decided to find out if that was unfair.”

Elliot appeared curious. Hayden looked resigned.

“I wish that I could say that I have learned that we were all wrong about him. I cannot.”

They had expected no less. The conclusion still sobered them.

“You are certain?” Hayden asked.

“Very certain. Last week I met with the man who acted on his behalf in that murder.”

“As did I last year,” Elliot said. “He denied it.”

“You did not believe his denial, however. You admitted as much to me.”

Elliot shrugged. “It was just a feeling. He was amiable. He acted innocent and ignorant, but.…” He shrugged again.

“He also denied it to me. However, he was lying to us both.”

“You cannot be sure,” Hayden said.

“I am sure.” As soon as they were introduced, he knew. As soon as his title was spoken. “He finally admitted it to me.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because I am now Easterbrook, and the last Easterbrook was his partner in crime. He had been paid. I have found the proof of that. He hopes to be paid again now that I know the truth.”

“Will he be?” Elliot asked. “You were adamant last year that this secret be kept in the past.”

“He will not be paid again, but he will try for it. I sensed him plotting even as we conversed. He will blackmail me. When he does, I will see him in the dock for it. I thought you should both know, so you can prepare for the scandal when it all comes out.”

Christian did not explain that he had allowed the scoundrel to think he would be successful in that blackmail. He had lured him into it until he knew the bait was swallowed. He had not exploited his curse so ruthlessly in years.

Silence fell. His brothers privately pondered the implications of a public trial that touched on their father's crime.

“Hell, Christian, what's one more scandal and a pile of gossip to us?” Hayden said. “This family is a damned magnet for it.”

Elliot snorted. They both snickered, then laughed so hard that it almost convulsed them.

Elliot wiped his eyes and tried to compose himself. “Oh, no! Not a scandal,” he squeaked, imitating Aunt Hen. “Whatever will we do, Hayden?”

That set them off again.

Christian waited while they had their fun. Finally they settled down.

“I am glad to see you make light of scandal. That is heartening. Because there is something else about our father that will probably be known soon too. He was among a group of men who founded a secret company that still smuggles tons of opium into China.”

The meeting in his chambers did not last much longer. Christian told his brothers what he knew, then they all headed down to the drawing room to join the other family members.

Hayden fell into step beside him. “The land steward at Aylesbury tells me that you spent several mornings riding through the estate with him while you were there,” he said. “I received a letter from him today.”

“It was a very interesting tour.”

“He said that you asked a hundred questions. He fears that you are suspicious of him, and are investigating his management.”

“I merely was curious. It is my property, after all.”

“Your curiosity was odd in itself. He did not miss that. He assumed that you did not even know his name, so his concern is not unwarranted.”

“Of course I knew his name. Goldenwaddle. Who could forget a name like that?”

“You. And it is Goldentwattle. Not Goldenwaddle.”

“Reassure Goldentwattle that I was pleased with what I saw. I have no major criticisms of either his stewardship or your oversight.”

Hayden cocked an eyebrow. “No
major
criticisms?” “I do have a small list of suggestions.” Hayden sighed with strained forbearance. “They are very minor suggestions. More ideas than commands. You can blame Miss Montgomery. She scolded me for not paying attention. She seems to think that it matters if I do.”

They entered the drawing room. Christian cocked his head toward Hayden and spoke confidentially. “Caroline's fiancé is a little dull. It is the unfortunate consequence of his sobriety and goodness, and we should not hold it against him. However, I thought I should warn you, in case you sit near him at dinner.”

“I will be spared. I bribed Aunt Hen for a place beside Miss Montgomery, and I expect my conversation with her to be anything but dull.”

“I feel very wicked,” she whispered.

He certainly hoped so. He kissed her breast while he slid her chemise down. Her dinner dress and stays already formed a feminine puddle on the floor. He sat on the edge of his bed, unveiling her slowly, enjoying the way she gently trembled while she stood before him and submitted to this slow disrobing.

“Your aunt is in the house,” she whispered. “And your cousin. They retired early, but they probably know I am still here.”

She did not mean wicked, unfortunately. She meant uncomfortable.

“Leona, there must be a hectare of space in this house. Would you have misgivings if my aunt and
cousin were in a cottage on a farm that neighbored mine?”

“But your aunt—”

“My aunt is busy with her own lover. By now M'sieur Lacroix has slipped in the kitchen door and made his way to her. Your presence in this house is the furthest thing from her mind.”

BOOK: The Sins of Lord Easterbrook
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