The Singular Mr. Sinclair

by Marlowe Mia

  She didn’t know. Her mind had never been so…untidy over a man before. She despised herself for it, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Caroline had done so many ridiculous things over Lawrence. She’d have thoroughly castigated Freddie or Horatia if they’d even contemplated following a man through the streets of London in their family’s carriage.

  “I was concerned for you,” she finally said to fill the uncomfortable silence that stretched between them.

  He raised a skeptical brow.

  “As far as I know, you have no family, no other acquaintances in Town with whom you might lodge. Why, for all I knew, you might have ended up in a dreadful neighborhood. There are parts of London where a decent person may not walk unmolested, you know,” she explained, fearful she sounded just like Freddie when she started nattering on, but, like her friend, she was unable to muzzle herself. “As we discovered, even Leicester Square has its miscreants.”

  “I assure you, no one will slash my purse strings,” he said dryly. “Is that the real reason you followed me?”

  “Can’t I be concerned about my brother’s friend?”

  That smile of his—how would she live without it?—lifted one corner of his mouth. “How did I ever manage to roam the Continent and find my way back to England without your concern?”

  When he put it like that, she had to laugh. “Very well. You’re right. No doubt you are capable of looking out for yourself.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” His smile grew wider, reaching his eyes now.

  “Caroline, please,” she corrected. She loved the way he said her name and longed to hear it. When he called her Caroline, she was tempted to arch into the deep, rich sound, like a cat demanding a more thorough petting. “No one can hear if you use my Christian name now.”

  “I can hear.” His smile faded. “And calling you my lady is what’s right. I took too many liberties when I was at Lovell House.”

  She bit her lip. “I seem to recall one you did not take.”

  His voice turned even more husky. “No one regrets that more than I.”

  “What do you regret, Lawrence?” He might not call her Caroline, but his name passed her lips with such rightness, she wouldn’t maintain formality with him.

  “You know full well. Or if you do not, you are not as intelligent as I believe you to be.” He inclined toward her by the smallest of degrees, but the heat in his gaze was so intense, she was reminded of her initial impression of him. A caged lion, with a predatory gleam in his eye. She was certain he wanted to kiss her. She’d never felt surer of anything. He’d been so close to it in the ballroom. Even now, he might have done so right there on the street, in front of God and everybody, but for his own strong will.

  What a curse to a woman is a stubborn man!

  Then he straightened to his full height and his cool military reserve was back in force. “My lady, I have more regrets than I wish to share or than you could bear to hear. But what I regret most of late is that I may have caused you pain.”

  She shook her head. “Frustration, yes. You’ve definitely left a good deal of excitement in your wake, and no end of confusion. But no pain.” At least, none but the strangely pleasurable ache of longing to have what one does not. “Put your mind at ease, Mr. Sinclair. You have not injured me.”

  Not in a lasting way, in any case. His refusal to act on his feelings still stung.

  “Then I am gratified to have been of some small assistance to you today,” he said. “Will you be needing an escort back to Lovell House?”

  She was tempted to say yes, but once they rejoined Alice in the carriage, their conversation would become more horribly stilted than it already was.

  “No, thank you,” she said, determined to keep her tone bright. “However did I manage to find my way about London without your concern?”

  “Touché, my lady. But perhaps you’ll allow that I may be concerned for my friend’s sister?”

  That made her smile as he took his leave. Tall, lean, and possessed of a warrior’s posture, the man was very fine to look upon, even when he was walking away.

  Caroline sighed. She hadn’t succeeded in convincing him to return to Lovell House as Teddy’s guest. However, she viewed this unsatisfactory turn of events as but a momentary setback. She was more determined than ever to know the real Lawrence Sinclair.

  Still waters run deep.

  If just once she could see the lion uncaged and learn who Lawrence was under that deceptively calm exterior. If she could puzzle out why he held himself in such tight control, and help him loosen his grip, she’d count it a grand accomplishment.

  Back when she first began to contemplate having adventures instead of living a pattern sort of life, she’d come across an account of one Antoine de Ville. In 1492, he’d been charged by the king of France with climbing Mount Aiguille. The mountain was said to be impossible to scale, but through great effort, M. de Ville did it, planting his king’s flag on the peak.

  Learning Lawrence Sinclair from the inside out would be an adventure without equal. Caroline was just the woman to conquer this man’s inaccessible soul.

  Then she’d see about whether she wanted to plant her flag.

  Chapter 14

  Oh, what I’d give to be a mouse in Dudley’s pocket!

  —Caroline Lovell, upon discovering that Lawrence Sinclair has acquired not one but two servants!

  “There you are, Teddy. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” The last place Caroline expected to find her brother Edward was in their father’s study, poring over the earl’s thick ledgers. He’d never been the sort for columns and sums. “What on earth are you doing?”

  Lord Bredon ran a hand through his sandy hair without the slightest success in making it lie flat. Then he sighed and closed the heavy tome.

  “Father said it’s time I take on some extra duties. He wishes me to familiarize myself with the running of the estate. It seems the rest of the family can flit about entertaining themselves, but now that I’m done with my education, a multitude of responsibilities loom before me.”

  Teddy hadn’t looked this oppressed since she’d caught him cramming for exams over his holiday break from Oxford, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a bit.

  “Ah, the perils of being heir apparent. How sad for you to look forward to becoming Lord Chatham. The peerage makes for such a long, weary lifetime when you consider all the wealth, honor, and prerogatives that go along with the title.”

  “The duties are as plentiful as the benefits, I’m discovering,” Edward said.

  “I rather doubt our brothers think their lots in life will be easier. After all, they’ll have to make their own ways in the world.”

  “Not without a good deal of help from me,” Teddy said testily. “Who do you think will see to it that Ben acquires a generous living as vicar in some charming country parish? Where will Thomas get the funds to purchase that infernal ship he’s always talking about? And who knows what Charles and Harry will eventually decide to do with themselves? But whatever it is, the house of Lovell will be supporting them at every step while they do.”

  Life was ever thus. Men could follow their own interests and decide for themselves. They’d even have the family’s support in their chosen endeavors. Once, Caroline would have railed at the unfairness of it all. Solely on account of being born a woman, she wouldn’t be allowed to determine what to do with herself. But surprisingly, just now, she had other concerns that were more pressing. Somehow, without seeming to, she had to steer this conversation toward Lawrence.

  “Yes, yes, you’re a veritable rock, Teddy, and the family wouldn’t be able to scrape by without you.”

  “If you’re trying to turn me up sweet, you’ll have to do better than that.”

  “Me? Never considered it for a moment.” She batted her eyes in feigned innocence. “But have you ever considered what i
t would be like for our brothers if you and Father didn’t support them? They’d be flailing about, left to their own devices, wouldn’t they?”

  Edward frowned. “I suppose so. Why are you so concerned about their futures all of a sudd—Oh, I see.” He tapped a finger alongside his nose and slanted a knowing look at her. “You’re thinking of Sinclair. His situation is much the same as our brothers’.”

  “You always did know me far too well for my comfort,” she admitted. “And you’re right this time, too. But Mr. Sinclair’s case is much different from our brothers. His uncle hasn’t given him the kind of support Ben and the others will receive from you, that much is certain.”

  The fact that Lawrence didn’t feel welcome in his family’s home made her chest ache. Caroline vexed her parents with regularity, but they wouldn’t turn her away. She’d never feel the kind of rejection Lawrence had suffered.

  “I wouldn’t worry about Sinclair,” Edward said, reopening the ledger before him and scowling down at it. “He’s a very capable fellow.”

  “Capable of what, I wonder?” Caroline walked her fingertips along the edge of their father’s massive mahogany desk, trying to seem nonchalant. “You never did tell me what he did to earn your undying gratitude and friendship, you know.”

  “And I won’t now,” Teddy said without looking up.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it involves a third party, and besides, it isn’t my story to tell.”

  Oliver. “It has something to do with Rowley, doesn’t it?”

  “Caro, if you want to know so badly, why don’t you ask Sinclair?”

  “Why are you being so difficult?” She started a slow prowl around the perimeter of the room in frustration. “You know as well as I that it would be easier to flap my arms and fly to the moon than to get Lawrence Sinclair to talk about himself.”

  Edward laughed. “You’ve the right of it, Sister. He’s not one to monopolize a conversation, is he? And even better than not waffling on about himself, Sinclair doesn’t make a habit of gossiping about others either. A virtue I recommend we emulate.”

  “You should have been the vicar instead of Ben,” she said, waving away his preachy suggestion. “Besides, you know Mr. Sinclair would never tell me, even if I asked. Which I wouldn’t, of course. It would be the height of rudeness for me to ask him something so obviously personal.”

  “That’s a very mature attitude. I commend you.”

  “And I you for protecting your friends’ secrets,” she said through clenched teeth. “But I hardly think it would be considered either gossip or rude if you should happen to tell your favorite sister what she wants to know.”

  “My favorite you may be,” he said with a laugh at their shared standing joke, “but your logic is astonishingly absurd.”

  “How so?”

  “You won’t ask Sinclair anything personal, but it’s not rude to harass me about it.”

  “You’re my brother. Rudeness doesn’t signify between you and me,” she said, trying not to whine. “And in any case, it’s not as if it could be considered gossip because anything you told me would go no further.”

  “No, Caro,” he said with firmness. “Your wiles may work on Father, but I am immune.”

  She plopped into the leather wing chair near the cold fireplace. “Men are such vexing creatures.”

  Teddy studied her for a moment. “Are you harboring a tendresse for Sinclair?”

  “What? No.” She willed her cheeks not to heat, without much success. “Now you’re being absurd.”

  “Am I? You were exceptionally keen on teaching him to dance.”

  “Only as a favor to you, chucklehead,” she said, feeling quite out of charity with him, favorite brother or no. Teddy used to be far easier to manipulate. “I couldn’t very well let your friend disgrace himself at Lord Frampton’s ball, could I? And by the way, you’re welcome.”

  He made a hmphing noise that sounded eerily like their father when he caught one of them in a faradiddle. “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’” he quoted.

  “All right.” Caroline decided a change of tactics was in order. “For the sake of argument, suppose you are correct and I am addlepated over Sinclair. Our parents have been waiting and watching with bated breath for the day when I become besotted with an eligible parti. Wouldn’t they want you to tell me why you are indebted to him? After all, if Mr. Sinclair’s actions aided my dear brother, it’s something that would only increase my infatuation with the man.”

  “First of all, I doubt our parents think Sinclair is all that eligible.”

  “Why not? He is heir presumptive to an earldom.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Edward said. “If the betting at White’s is any indication, Lord Ware is about to announce his impending nuptials to a young lady from a notoriously fertile family.”

  “Who is it?”

  Teddy shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything, and I trust you not to repeat it. But suffice it to say that the ledger at White’s is giving very long odds on Sinclair succeeding his uncle.”

  Caroline rose and resumed her nervous prowl about the room. “Oh, yes, by all means, let us consult the oracle of a betting book.”

  “In such matters it’s rarely wrong,” Teddy assured her. “Besides, as to your claim that the tale of how Sinclair and I met would redound to his credit, let me assure you, the reverse is true.”

  That stopped her in her tracks. “You cannot make that kind of statement and then keep mum. Now you’ve simply got to tell me. But no matter what you say, if Mr. Sinclair gave you aid, I would only rejoice in his actions.”

  “You didn’t see the actions,” he said softly.

  “Oh, Teddy, you’ll drive me to Bedlam.” She leaned on the desk, bending down to meet his gaze. “You may as well get to it; you know you’re going to tell me eventually.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because I’m your favorite sister. Because you know I won’t give you any peace until you do. And because I can keep a secret,” she said, ticking off the reasons on her fingers. When he rolled his eyes, she straightened her spine and played her trump card. “After all, I’ve never told Father who really wrecked his curricle that summer before you left for the Continent. At least, I haven’t yet.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  She shrugged. “Father was very attached to that equipage. ‘The finest, fastest in the shire,’ he always said. Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you? Because you and Rowley discovered exactly how fast it would go.”

  “Botheration! I should have learned from that episode not to blithely fall in with Oliver’s plans.”

  “So, Rowley was involved in your meeting Lawrence—I mean Mr. Sinclair.”

  Edward leaned back in his chair. “Close the study door.”

  She obeyed quickly and returned to perch on the edge of the wing-chair seat. “If ever I hear the slightest whiff of this story anywhere, I shall know who to blame,” he said.

  “Your secret dies with me. I’ll swear on anything you like.”

  “Don’t swear. It’s not ladylike.”

  “Neither am I, half the time.”

  “Nevertheless,” Edward said in an imitation of their father at his reproving best. Perhaps it was sitting behind Lord Chatham’s desk that gave him a much graver demeanor than usual. “Your word should be enough, Caro.”

  “Very well. You have it.” She folded her hands on her lap to still them, but her insides still jittered. She was finally going to learn something important about Lawrence. “Where did you first meet Mr. Sinclair?”

  “In an Italian jail.”

  Caroline blinked hard. She’d heard that sometimes people paid to view the unfortunates at Bedlam, but she’d never understood the charm of it. “You were touring a jail?”

  “No. I was inc
arcerated in one. We all were.”

  A pent-up breath whooshed out of her. “Why?”

  “Trust me, there are any number of ways an Englishman can run afoul of the law in Italy. Rowley and I found several, I’m afraid, one of which would have been a capital offense had things gone badly for us at trial.”

  Caroline’s belly roiled uncertainly. Punishment for crimes in England could be severe. If the boy who’d stolen her reticule were brought up on charges, he might well be hanged or deported to New South Wales. No doubt other countries were just as firm about enforcing their laws, but she never imagined such harsh punishment would be meted out to members of the aristocracy.

  “What on earth did you do?” Surely they hadn’t dabbled in thievery.

  “It’s not a tale fit for your ears, Caro. I shouldn’t have told you this much.”

  Which meant her brother probably wouldn’t tell her what offense Lawrence had committed to land him in the same jail.

  “Thank heaven things didn’t go badly for you at trial,” she said softly.

  “Only because we didn’t make it to trial. We were being transferred to another prison closer to court when Sinclair, in shackles no less, overpowered the guards.”

  “Guards?” she repeated. “As in more than one?”

  Edward nodded. “There were four of them, all goodly sized fellows, too. Honestly, I’ve never seen the like, Caro. Sinclair went from docile prisoner to Viking berserker between one heartbeat and the next. He laid them all out, with no help from me or Rowley, I regret to say. We were too astonished at the sudden change in him to move. His blows were methodical and ruthless and…” Edward met her gaze. “Such things aren’t meant for feminine ears. I’m sorry if I’ve distressed you.”

  “I’d be more distressed at the thought of you languishing in a foreign prison,” she said, only a bit ashamed of the little thrill that danced on her spine. She’d suspected Lawrence Sinclair could be dangerous, but instead of being repulsed, she wished she’d been there to see the lion uncaged. “Then what happened?”

  “Then Sinclair grabbed the keys from the fallen guards and unshackled himself, and Rowley and me as well. The three of us took to our heels. We dodged through dark alleys and lanes down to the docks and jumped onto the first ship leaving that harbor. We didn’t care where it was bound so long as it left quickly.” Edward massaged the bridge of his nose, as if a headache were forming between his eyes. “Needless to say, we’ll not be welcome in Rome again anytime soon.”