Seven Lovely Sins (The Northumberland Nine Book 7)

by Dayna Quince

  Theo nodded. “Very well, I shall do my best.”

  Chapter 7

  Nicolette was flustered as she watched Mr. Denham come into the drawing room before dinner, greet their hosts, and then speak with Luna privately.

  Her heart sank, blasted foolish thing that it was. It hadn’t listened at all when her head had warned it to stay vigilant.

  So it wasn’t that he had no interest in plain country women, it was her. He had no interest in her, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him!

  At dinner she was seated across from them and one chair down. She could watch him with Luna and hear if they were talking normally. Did they realize how absorbed they appeared with each other? Her heart must reside with her feet now. She was cold with envy and couldn’t find much of an appetite.

  She didn’t even know him and yet… There was something about him that drew her. She didn’t want to watch him fall in love with her sister.

  After retiring for the evening, Nic hummed to herself as Odette told her all about Mr. Seyburn’s trip to the Egyptian pyramids. Nic only half listened as she tried valiantly not to look at Luna with annoyance. She didn’t look like a woman falling in love with a rogue. Instead she appeared distracted, as if she was hurrying along to another pressing engagement.

  Nic sighed.

  This was what she was coming to. Watching her sisters more interesting lives from afar. She was a wallflower without the ball. Well, there would be a ball at the end of this party.

  She would have to do something if she wanted to change, no doubt something terrifying and reckless. Those things seemed to always benefit Bernie and Georgie. Even Odette was having a grand time, and she had no expectations of the gentlemen here.

  Perhaps that was it, Nic thought, as she bid Odette goodnight and entered her room. Odette wasn’t focused on marriage at all. She was perfectly happy with whom she was because she had a passion. She had a purpose.

  What was Nic’s passion? Odette would say music. Nic truly did love it. Music put sound to emotion the way nothing else did. Turned frowns into smiles, made people move and laugh. Music was magic. The everyday kind.

  Perhaps Odette was right. Her twin knew her like no other. It was hard for Nic to reconcile that she could be so blind about herself, but then again—what was that phrase her mother used to say?

  One cannot see the wood for the trees.

  She was too close to the object to see it clearly, the object being herself. Once she’d tried to teach herself to play on a pianoforte, but having none, she’d tried to sketch the layout from the lovely one the dowager duchess had in the Queen’s Drawing Room. Odette had all but ordered Nic to just ask to use it. But she couldn’t…

  Asking was one of the most difficult things to do. It wasn’t as though her family could afford to pay for instruction, and they would never impose upon the duchess like that. But if she learned on her own then…

  Nic went to her private chest she kept under her bed. She opened it and took out a leather satchel and dumped the contents on her dressing table. She didn’t know why she’d brought these rocks with her, but they meant a great deal. How silly, they were just rocks.

  She lined them up on the table, different shades and sizes. She’d spent months searching for them, long, flat, pale, shorter, darker pebbles, until she had something that resembled keys on which to practice. She’d borrowed books and tried to learn, humming the notes that had become so familiar. The new duchess played, and Nic envied her fiercely. She watched Violet’s fingers move over the keys with ease, her heart pounding, the hairs on her arms standing as the music weaved around her senses.

  She slumped over her pathetic instrument, resting her forehead on her arms.

  This is what she’d become. She was pathetic. She didn’t know how to speak to gentlemen, and she pretended to play the pianoforte on a pile of rocks.

  What future could she possibly have?

  She lifted her head and glared at her reflection. Was she really going to sit here and pity herself? She was a Marsden.

  She might be young, but she’d done things, kissed a boy, starved to provide more for her younger sisters, learned how to grow any vegetables in just about any soil. She’d bled, been bruised, and had her spirit broken more than once.

  This party wouldn’t do it again.

  The future was a vast ocean, and she could go in any direction. But she only needed one. The one she chose. Feeling confined in the luxury of her room, she donned her cloak, tucking her small knife into the pocket for protection.

  This room wasn’t hers.

  This party was not for her.

  The only thing she really owned was her voice, and she needed to let it out. To sing freely without restraint and feed the flame inside her that had nearly been snuffed. The only place to do that was the bluffs.

  Chapter 8

  Theo shrugged his coat around his shoulders as he descended the sandy path to the beach. The wind howled through the rocks, buffeting him when he passed through their currents. He was glad he hadn’t worn a hat because the cold wind felt good on his face, combing through his hair, but his ears felt cold. He shrugged his shoulders up to protect them, but it didn’t do him much good.

  He reached the beach, and his boots sank into the sand as he slogged his way across the open stretch to a crop of rocks, which formed a little pier into the water. Hands fisted in his pockets, he leapt from rock to rock until he reached the pinnacle and stood looking out over the choppy ocean. Waves crashed below his feet, mist spraying his face.

  If he slipped and fell, he’d plummet to his death.

  But he might not die right away. He stared down at the rocks below, the waves breaking over them violently. Would the fall kill him, or would he lie there and bleed for minutes, perhaps hours.

  Would he drown?

  He wasn’t so melancholy as to think about truly jumping, but he did wonder how much his brother would miss him if he were gone. Would anyone miss him? He had friends, lots of them. When one knew how to have a good time, knew how to raise the stakes just enough to keep things exciting, people tended to flock whether or not they actually liked the person.

  He knew how to have a good time, and he always had the coin to fund his antics. Thanks to his brother’s generous allowance, he had plenty of blunt, but he mostly paid his own way with profits from his own investments. It helped that he wasn’t afraid to take risks. Not all of them worked to his advantage, but most of them had. He truly didn’t need his brother’s generosity, though it came in handy when occasionally his investments didn’t pan out. There were very few things holding him and his brother together these days. It certainly wasn’t familial affection, but rather obligation to the staff who raised them and to the memory of their parents. Indeed, it wasn’t much. Theo wondered why Callen was helping him at all.

  Duty, that’s what it was. Only duty.

  Theo didn’t particularly enjoy being someone’s duty. But if he walked away from his brother, what would he have left? That was the question. If he didn’t have his family, the very thing that made him who he was, he wouldn’t be anybody at all. That was what he was afraid of.

  Theo looked out over the water and then up to the sky. The stars winked at him, cheeky little things. The wind was almost strong enough to knock him from his perch, whistling in his ears, hitting him with a barrage of sound.

  What was that noise? He frowned, turning his profile to the sea and just listening.

  Was someone crying? Screaming?

  No, the keening was far more controlled than that. There was a melody there now. The sound grew louder. Chills slithered over his nerve endings as the voice became clearer, carried on the wind to his ears. The singing made him feel weightless for a moment. Irrationally, he scanned the water. Could this be a fabled mermaid?

  A siren’s call to lure him to jump to his death.

  Whatever it was, it was haunting and musical, the most beautiful sound—nay voice, he had ever heard. He turned toward the be
ach. It was a voice, a woman’s voice, and not coming from the water.

  This was a flesh and blood woman of the two-legged kind.

  He crouched down and carefully made his way down from his mountain of slippery rocks, scanning the beach. She wore a dark cloak, her hood up over her head. Or perhaps she had lots of dark hair. It was hard to differentiate her among the silhouette of boulders, but once he focused on her, he couldn’t pull his gaze away.

  Her face was lifted to the sky, and she sang a song he had never heard before, words he could not decipher. The wind carried her voice to him, and the sound moved through him in scintillating vibrations, shimmering down his limbs, humming in the marrow of his bones.

  He reached the sand and crouched low, just watching her. He skirted along the rock wall, moving around her in an arc until he drew close enough. He held his breath.

  Was she real? Was she a ghost?

  Had he fallen to his death and she an angel here to usher him into heaven?

  More likely he was destined for hell.

  Her voice cut off, and she turned her profile his way. The hood of her cloak was blown off, and long tendrils of midnight hair trailed down her back, flying every which way.

  “Come out, sir. I know you’re there. I would have you approach me if you are brave enough.”

  Theo came to his feet. Such bravery for a woman on the beach alone. He liked a woman who could hold her own. She turned to face him as he slowly strode forward, his hands up so that she could see he meant no harm.

  The moon and the stars covered the beach in silvery light, and he recognized her at once, his heart pounding with exhilaration as a new risk was presented to him. Theo had an insatiable taste for risk.

  Nicolette Marsden, one of the infamous Northumberland Nine. An impoverished daughter of a country squire who desperately needed to marry.

  “Miss Nicolette, I mean you no harm. You need not be frightened of me.”

  Chapter 9

  I am not frightened of you,” Nic replied, her heart in her throat.

  What was he doing here?

  This was not how she imagined speaking to him, if at all. She thought she’d be alone, but she always carried her knife just in case. She clutched the handle, not because she thought herself in danger but to ground herself here in the present. He looked different in the moonlight, his edges softened, the subdued colors painting him in a sorrowful light. The breeze ruffled his dark hair, the moonlight bathing his chiseled face with soft dreamy silver light but leaving his eyes shadowed.

  “I’m unarmed,” he said. “Might you put away the dagger?”

  She swallowed, her mouth as dry as the sand beneath her feet. She searched her senses. She was wound tight but not because she feared him. She feared herself, anxious she would embarrass herself in front of this sophisticated creature.

  If she hadn’t already. She was carrying a knife and out on the beach in the middle of the night. What must he think of her already? Probably that she was mad and might stab him.

  She lifted her chin and sheathed her dagger.

  She could at the very least gather her wits enough not to appear a deranged woman. “I’m sorry. It’s more for my comfort than anything else.”

  “It’s smart.”

  He stopped some distance away, close enough to talk, far enough not to impose upon her circle of comfort. She stopped a tendril of hair from blowing into her mouth and tucked it behind her ear.

  “May I escort you back to the castle?” he asked. “I myself was out here for a bit of reflection. I had an argument with my brother, you see, and I needed…” His gaze moved to the water. His expression tortured.

  Could it be they were out here for the same reason? To find something? A purpose?

  She drew in a slow breath. Perhaps she was mad. She was reading too much into this. His gaze returned to her face.

  “You may go if you wish,” she said. Her heart beat with a dull ache. Why would he want to stay? If they were caught, she would be compromised, and he’d have to marry her.

  “I can’t leave you here. Knife or no, it is not safe.”

  She shrugged. “‘Tis safe enough.” She’d never seen another soul out here, until now, until him.

  “Then I have to stay until you are ready to return.”

  “Thank you, but you don’t. It’s all right. No one need know we saw each other.”

  “It’s not safe,” he pressed.

  Nic laughed, trying not to be too pleased by his insistence. He’d spent half his dinner talking to Luna and then no one at all. She reminded her foolish heart it wasn’t because of her. He was a gentleman. The word had never tasted so bitter on her tongue before.

  “I’ve lived here my entire life. I assure you I am fine. You don’t have to do this.”

  He frowned. “Do what?”

  “Play the gentleman card. There is no danger here to me.”

  He raised a brow. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  Her mind blanked. “No…” A challenge? Nothing of the sort.

  “Forgive me. I promised I’d be on my best behavior but here you are, tempting the devil in me.”

  Her pulse spread up. “I…”

  “It’s not your fault. You’ve little experience with men and even less with men like me.”

  Something in his voice gave her pause. It almost sounded like self-loathing.

  She squinted at him. She didn’t believe it but… “Are you implying I’m not safe with you?”

  He scoffed. “Of course, what kind of rake would I be if I didn’t titillate you with my dangerous and sultry warnings.”

  A smile pulled at her lips. Dangerous and sultry. Yes indeed. But… “You wouldn’t have been invited here if you couldn’t be trusted to behave honorably.”

  “I’m invited everywhere. I’m sure the duke thinks he’s terrifying enough to keep me from doing real harm, but… A rake is a rake. And I am the very worst of them.”

  Warmth spread over her skin. He must be teasing, but whatever he was doing, making her believe he could desire her, it was working. Or was he trying to frighten her into returning? Did she have the nerve to call his bluff?

  She must. She’d come out here all by herself. Would she run away now? No. This was her territory. Something wild and reckless rose up inside her.

  She glanced at the castle, an imposing shadow in the night. The windows reflected the stars back to her. She didn’t want to leave, nor did she want him to. She feared that once they returned, she’d lose all her courage to speak to him. Tomorrow she’d be that pathetic girl who couldn’t bring herself to converse or touch the real keys of the pianoforte.

  “I’m staying a little while longer. I can’t sleep.”

  Her gaze flicked to the castle and then back to him. Temptation, tantalizing and slow, overcame his fear of her dagger and her ability to use it. As always, the pleasure of risk far outweighed his good sense.

  “May I sit and listen to your lovely voice?”

  He did not hear her gasp. Such a soft sound would swiftly be carried away by the wind, but he saw her mouth drop open. Her dark cherry lips, plump and damp with salty mist. Theo suddenly wondered how he knew it had been her and not her twin, Miss Odette. They were identical. And yet he hadn’t even thought that it could be Odette. He’d just known. All the sisters were remarkably similar, with dark hair and eyes, but the twins had long elegant faces and tall slender frames that differed from their sisters. They didn’t appear frail but lean and athletic. So where was the difference between her and her sister Odette that had identified her so easily to him?

  “You heard me singing? No one’s ever heard me before.”

  “I’ve never heard a voice like yours.”

  She bowed her head, and he thought she might be blushing.

  “Please… Will you sing for me?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t sing for anyone except myself,” she said.

  He drew a bit closer. “You keep that lovely sound all to yourself?�
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  She bit her lip and the slow drag of her teeth across the plump damp skin made his gut tighten with lust. He tried to ignore the feeling, but she made it so difficult with her flashing dark eyes and those high cheekbones of hers. She was like an angel but not soft and delicate. Wicked.

  The kind of angel they painted on the ceilings of brothels to tempt men into forsaking their God and their morals. what differentiated her between her sister. He saw none of these attributes in Miss Odette, and he’d spent quite a bit of time studying them both in the drawing room at dinner. They were beautiful women, and women deserved to be adored, much like art did.

  “Why do you sing here? So that no one will hear you?”

  She nodded.

  She wasn’t much for conversation. He’d noticed that about her, along with the sultry curve of her lips. She hadn’t furthered her acquaintance with any of the other gentlemen.

  “No one’s ever heard me sing,” she said. “You mustn’t tell anyone.”

  He gawked at her. “You selfish girl, you keep that treasure locked up tight?”

  She cocked her head and glared at him. “It is my voice. I will do what I please with it.”

  “For shame, Nicolette.”

  “I did not give you leave to use my given name. Miss Marsden will do just fine.”

  “Indeed not,” he returned. “With a voice like that, Nicolette suits you. It’s French and saucy, like you, I do believe.”

  She blinked at him, flustered. “You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

  “I’m very observant, but I did not perceive you carried such an instrument in your throat, and here you are hidden away in Northumberland like a diamond in the rough,” he said, shaking his head at her with a tsk.

  She folded her arms. “You are ridiculous, and you’re only saying these things to—”

  “Shock you? Most definitely. I like to see women flushed with color, though it’s a challenge in this light. But I’m always keen for a challenge.”