by Vella, Wendy
He stood there as they walked away, stopping briefly to say goodbye to his grandmother. His eyes followed them as they left his ship, then climbed into a carriage. Only when it had rolled away did he draw in a deep breath.
He would not be seeing them again, Harry assured himself, even though inside he wanted desperately to know what Lord Sinclair had meant by his words.
I’m sure by now you’ve realized you’re different, Harry.
Chapter 3
“Nearly there, my sweet,” Maddie stroked her daughter’s soft hair. Fleur had endured much over the last few days, but now she prayed that was over. Her child slept in her arms, the rocking motion of the carriage lulling her back to sleep.
Please let it be over.
The hackney slowed and stopped. Holding her daughter close, Maddie picked up her bag and stepped down.
“How much is the fare, please, sir.” She prayed there was enough money left.
“The gentleman paid it, miss.”
“He did?”
“More than enough too.”
“Oh, well, thank you.”
She hadn’t lied when she’d called Harry Sinclair her guardian angel. She had known even with her limited knowledge that the fare the seaman who had called himself Barney had quoted her for passage to London was cheap. But desperation had pushed aside her pride, and she’d accepted, eager to leave France behind.
She’d seen the tall, dark, fierce man who’d looked like a warrior standing on the deck of his ship as she’d sat there wondering what her next step would be. He’d looked every inch the gentleman in the clothes he wore, and yet there had been something untamed about him.
He’d saved them from those barrels too. They would have been maimed or worse. He’d taken a risk and carried them to safety in his big, strong arms. Fleur had been distressed, and he’d cupped her head to stop her weeping, and her daughter had settled in seconds. Usually a happy child, this trip had made her grizzly, and yet the man, Harry Sinclair, had been able to calm her when Maddie could not.
“We are safe now, my love.” Maddie whispered the words to Fleur and hoped saying them out loud meant they were the truth.
She’d left her cottage in France in the early hours of the morning five days ago, and the memory of the terror that drove her to take the drastic steps was still fresh in her head. She’d packed everything she could as quietly as possible with fear nipping at her heels, then gathered up her sleeping child and slipped from the house.
The trip to Calais had been grueling, but finally they’d arrived, tired and hungry. There, Maddie started enquiries on a fare for them to London.
Her arms had ached, and her eyes were gritty, but desperation had driven her on. Desperation and fear that someone would catch her and lock her away from her child. Luck had been on her side and put her on that ship to England. Luck and Harry Sinclair.
Looking at the house before her, she hoped her brother was inside and her luck continued. Maddie would not contemplate any other option. Rory had to be here. This was the address he’d given her; it was written in the letter she had in her bag. And yet she couldn’t read it, so had relied on someone else to give it to her.
Had they got it right?
Well, there is no way of knowing without knocking on that door.
Taking the ten steps, she rapped the brass knocker, then stood back to wait.
Please be here, Rory.
Maddie braced herself as the door opened.
“Good day,” the man said. His eyes ran over her and settled on the still slumbering Fleur.
Maddie knew how she looked but had little choice in that. They were rumpled, dirty, and no doubt looked like beggars. Raising her chin, she did not show her desperation. Strength had got her through many ordeals in her life, and it would now.
“May I help you?”
“I wish to speak with Mr. Huntington, please.”
“Mr. Maxwell Huntington, or Mr. Rory Huntington?”
“Mr. Rory Huntington.”
“And may I have your name, please?”
“Mrs. Madeline Caron.”
The butler smiled. “If you will come this way, Mrs. Caron, I will show you to a parlor while I tell Mr. Huntington you have called.”
Maddie followed. Her legs suddenly felt wobbly. Now she was here, so close, the fight seemed to have left her.
“Please take a seat.”
“I wish to see Mr. Rory Huntington,” she clarified.
“Of course, Mrs. Caron. I will return shortly.”
Just hearing her eldest brother’s name had anger and need battling inside her. It made her want to flee. But Maddie never turned from anything. She’d do this for Fleur if not for herself. Fleur, and the very real possibility that her legs would not hold her were they forced to take many more steps.
Rory had written to her, telling her Max was a good man and that there was much to share as to why he’d left. Maddie wanted to hear none of it. He’d then told her he was to wed and live here in London. That had broken her heart. Maddie had wanted happiness for her brother, but she’d hope it would be in France, near her.
As it turned out, France was now not safe for her and Fleur, so she would need to find another home for them.
Settling Fleur into a soft chair, Maddie covered her with the blanket that had once been cream and was now a grubby brown. Her daughter never moved. She fell into the other seat in the room, resting her head on the back. The weight of fatigue pulled at her eyelids until they closed. Just for a few minutes, just enough to regain her strength.
The sound of running feet woke her. The door burst open, and there stood Max with a huge shaggy gray dog at his side who she knew well. Struggling to her feet, she kept her eyes on the man she’d loved since the day she was born. He looked so different to the angry man who had left her many years ago.
“Maddie.” It was a ragged whisper. “Dear God, sister, you are a wonderful sight.”
She’d wondered what her reaction to him would be. Would she hate him for leaving her, or would the love she’d always felt for him win over everything else?
In her exhausted state, the latter won.
“M-Max.” She took a step toward him, and he to her, and then she was in his arms. Big strong arms, and only then did she let herself fall. Slumping against him, she wept wracking sobs that poured out of her.
“Shhh now, I have you.”
He held her close, his hands stroking her back. Maddie gripped his lapels and burrowed into his chest. Safe. Was it really the truth?
She was unsure how long they stood there, but long enough for the tears to flow and ease. As if a dam had burst, she finally let herself let go. Max was here, and for now that was enough.
“Max?”
Maddie heard the voice from behind her brother. Soft and female.
“Can you organize a room, my love? Water for washing, and food also.”
“Of course.”
She rested, her cheek on his chest, his arms holding her there. For just this brief time, she would allow herself to take strength from another. When the sniffles had stopped, she lifted her head to look at him.
The years had filled out his body. Age had put lines where there had been none, and he looked what she’d heard he now was. A prosperous man with a wife and children.
“What has you here like this, Maddie? Where is your husband?”
She felt the tears build again. Tears for the man she had married. A good man who had provided for his family as best he could. They’d not loved, but respected each other, and for Maddie, who’d never had a home, it had been more than enough.
“He died, Max.”
“When?”
“Months ago. He was sick, and got worse, then he passed two weeks later.”
“We would have come. I’m sure you could have found someone to write a letter for you. Why did you not notify us?”
Because I opened the door, and the devil walked inside my home, and I was fooled by her again.
“I needed time alone to grieve,” she lied.
“What are you not telling me?” His big hands cupped her cheeks, his eyes holding hers. “Those eyes of yours have always hidden more than they should.”
“So much, and most cannot be spoken.”
“Even to me, the brother who loves you?”
“The brother I now barely know.” Maddie eased out of his arms and dropped down to hug the dog she knew so well.
“Hello, Bran, my old friend.”
She felt the rough tongue on her cheek.
“He has clearly missed you,” Max said.
“And I him.”
Her moment of weakness was behind her as she regained her feet. She had always been strong; that would not stop now she was safe.
“We are weary, Max. I would ask for a bed please, so Fleur and I can sleep. I understand the hour is still early, and yet we have not slept well for many nights.”
She saw the questions he wanted to ask, but instead he said, “Of course.” He moved to where Fleur lay. “She looks so sweet.” He bent to kiss her head. “Another niece for an uncle to love.”
Maddie swallowed down the lump those words formed. For so long it had been just her watching over her daughter, but now there would be uncles, and for that she would be grateful. Her daughter would be safe should anything happen to her.
“Where is Rory?”
“With his fiancée. I will send word you are here.”
“Come, I have a room ready.” A woman appeared in the doorway.
“This is my wife, Essie. My love, this is my sister, Maddie.”
“I am so very pleased to finally meet you.” The woman had dark hair and lovely green eyes, and the smile on her face was gentle. She came forward and wrapped her arms around Maddie. “Your brothers have talked about you constantly, so much that I feel I know you so well already.”
Maddie accepted the hug and the comfort it gave. Tomorrow she would once again put distance between herself and others until she could trust them.
“Come now, I can see how weary you are,” Essie said. “There will be plenty of time to talk after you have rested.”
Maddie turned to pick up Fleur, but Max already had her in his arms.
“I can take her.”
“As you look ready to drop where you stand, I will carry her up the stairs for you. Trust that your daughter is safe with me, as are you. Now, follow Essie, Maddie.”
She wanted to argue. Fleur was hers to carry, and yet the argument would have been a petty one. Instead she let her sister-in-law place an arm around her shoulders and lead her from the room. Bran followed, the clip of his claws on the tiles a comforting sound as they walked.
She caught fleeting glances of flowers, furniture, and paintings, but her gritty eyes struggled to focus on much. The house was large, grand even, but tomorrow would be soon enough to see more of it.
When they entered the room, all she saw was the bed… a huge, comfortable bed with coverings that would keep Fleur warm. Wide enough to fit a family of four. They would sleep well today.
Max lowered his niece gently onto the mattress. The child did not so much as twitch. Maddie took off her boots and dress, leaving her in a shift. Kissing her daughter’s cheek, she whispered her love and then pulled the covers to her chin.
“There is warm water for washing, Maddie,” Essie said. “And a tray of food.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you let me help you get into bed? You must be so tired.”
“I can do it, but thank you, Essie.” She’d never had help with anything; she wasn’t about to start now.
“I thought you would wish to sleep with Fleur.”
“I would, thank you, as she will be frightened when she wakes if I am not here.”
“Pull the bell if you need anything,” Max said. “We will be close.” He came to her side. “It is good to see you, sister, and tomorrow is soon enough to discuss what simmers between us. Sleep and regain your strength. The rest will wait.”
Maddie nodded, words now beyond her. She felt his lips in her hair, and then he and his wife left her alone, as she’d been for so long. But no longer, Maddie thought, for now she had brothers nearby.
She removed her clothes and boots, and then washed in the warm water. It felt wonderful. Once the travel dirt was rubbed from her body, Maddie pulled on her nightdress and made herself sit in the comfortable chair and eat the food, simply because she needed the strength. This and sleep would set her to rights.
Climbing into the soft bed when she’d finished her tea, she pulled up the covers. Her daughter was safe now, and that alone had her eyes closing. In seconds, the darkness had pulled her under.
Chapter 4
Harry had told himself in a hundred different ways why he would not be going to the Sinclairs’ to find out what they were talking about. He’d run through every reason, several times, not least of all the fact that his father’s words were always inside his head.
Never trust a Sinclair.
After delivering his grandmother to her hotel and ensuring everything was perfect, he had spent a day walking the decks of his ship.
Faris had asked him what was wrong, and because for the first time in his life Harry couldn’t work out what to do, he’d told him. His friend had said that visiting his family did not present a life sentence of connections in that logical way that made Harry want to punch him. So here he now was, traveling along the street that his cousins lived on at an ungodly early hour, betraying his father.
“But I will not stay,” he muttered. It was merely that he needed to know what he was. He would then leave and continue to fulfil his father’s wish.
Would the Sinclairs even be awake? He had no idea, as he rose with the sun, and knew little about the hours a nobleman kept.
He’d come because he needed to know. Damn those Sinclairs; they’d known he would. Known that the differences in him he’d kept hidden all his life would lead him here. But it would change nothing. He would listen to what they said and then leave, no matter that Faris had urged him to make a connection with these people.
Never trust a Sinclair.
The street the carriage stopped in was clearly one of London’s better ones. The houses were large and, he was sure, admired by those passing, which was very likely the point. The one he wanted was old and well built. Looking up the imposing façade, he wondered at what and who awaited him inside.
The three men from yesterday? Did they all live here? How many more were there of these Sinclairs?
Paying for the hackney, he stepped down and tried to settle the sudden thud of his heartbeat inside his chest. Just go in there, find the answers to the questions you’ve always had, then leave. It need to be no more difficult than that surely.
“You are a man who spends his days negotiating deals with men equally as ruthless as you,” Harry reminded himself. A few noblemen should not disturb him unduly.
He rapped on the front door, and it was opened by—Harry presumed—the butler. Elegantly dressed and with a stately air, he really couldn’t be anything else.
“Good day.”
“Good day. My name is Mr. Sinclair.”
The butler seemed happy about that.
“Harry Sinclair.”
“You certainly have that look about you, sir. If you will come this way, I’ve had instruction to take you to the family when you arrive.”
There was a look?
“I only had this day free, and I understand the hour is early, but I have meetings,” Harry added, not wanting it to be bandied about that he’d only let a full day pass before hurrying here to talk with them… the Sinclairs. Who were family and yet not anyone he would ever be close with, he reminded himself. Servants, Harry knew, were notorious for gossip.
Never trust a Sinclair.
He followed the butler’s straight back, let his eyes settle on the paintings he passed and his feet sink into the rugs he trod. It was possibly what a home felt like; he didn�
�t know and cared even less. Harry and his father had merely slept in their lodgings, they had held little by way of sentiment for either of them. He was a wanderer. He had a bed in many places, but not one of them was a home.
“Watch out below!”
Looking to the top of the stairs, he saw a young lady straddling the banister. Seconds later, she was sliding down it.
“Dear God!” He hurried forward when the butler showed no signs of doing so, but she reached the bottom and slid off, landing neatly on her feet.
“Hurry up, Warwick!”
A young man came next. All legs and arms, minutes later he was standing beside the lady.
He guessed their age to be nearing twenty, and yet he had never been terribly good at gaging such things, especially in women.
“Hello.” She smiled at him. Pretty with blue eyes and blonde hair. “I am Samantha, sister to James, Max, Rory, Rose, Emily, and now Maddie. I have as yet not met her but hope to soon.”
“There are still more of us,” the young man said, which had the girl’s lips thinning.
Tall, and still growing into the man he would become, he had dark hair and green eyes and could only be a Sinclair. Harry tried not to stiffen as the young man held out his hand.
“I am Warwickshire Sinclair. I believe you are my cousin Harry?”
Harry bowed before shaking the hand. “Yes, I am Harry. How is it you know that?”
“You’ve seen my eldest brother, Dev, and cousin Wolf, I believe?”
Harry nodded.
“Well then, the three of you are almost identical.” Warwick smiled. “Welcome to the family, Harry.”
A simple sentence, and yet one he’d never thought to hear. He absolutely did not feel a warmth in his chest at the thought of belonging. Harry needed no one.
“I will not be staying.” His words came out gruff, but the young man simply continued to smile.
“We are hard to resist.” He wasn’t bragging; it was just a fact as far as Warwick Sinclair was concerned.
“Aren’t you a little old for sliding down bannisters?” Harry changed the subject.