Sinjin

by J. A. Templeton

  “He is one to talk! Has he looked into a mirror?” Marilyn shook her head. “I am so sorry, Kate.”

  “At least his sister keeps me company, or else I would die from boredom.”

  “Ah, yes, Meredith, who plays the constant chaperone. How old is she?”

  “I would say forty…or perhaps a bit older.”

  Marilyn winced. “Why did she never marry?”

  “I asked her that question, and she quickly changed the subject. All I know is that Meredith saves me from having to say much at all when we are with Ronald.” And I am so relieved that is the case. “They are as close as siblings can be, and from what I gather, they count very much on each other’s opinion.”

  “Tell me—having spent the past month in Lord Balliford’s company, can you envision yourself bound to him for the rest of your life?” Marilyn asked, watching Kate closely.

  Katelyn’s throat tightened. “If it had not been for Father leaving us destitute, I would not marry him. Given our situation, I have no choice.”

  “Everyone has a choice, Kate.”

  “Not in this case. Mother would have my head if I broke the engagement.”

  “Then perhaps Mother should marry Lord Balliford instead of you.”

  Katelyn laughed. “If only.”

  “Well, I for one could not imagine making love to an old man,” Marilyn said with a grimace. “Indeed, I would flat-out refuse, regardless of what Mother says.”

  Katelyn’s stomach twisted, and she felt nauseated at the very thought of sharing Ronald’s bed. “Lord Balliford is six and forty, which is far from ancient. Sally Rappaport married Lord Hammond last year, and he is just shy of his seventieth birthday.”

  “At least she shall be a widow soon.”

  Katelyn smiled. She respected the way her sister spoke her mind without thought of consequence. She, herself, could never be so forthcoming. In fact, she always thought about what she was going to say before the words left her mouth, a habit formed after years of standing up to her mother, and paying for her “willfulness” by way of a mouthful of soap or a sharp slap across the face.

  Marilyn sat forward, her eyes narrowing. “Tell me you do not cringe when you think about having sex with that man, Kate.”

  “I dread my wedding night, Marilyn. More than I have ever dreaded anything in all my life.”

  A smile touched Marilyn’s lips. “Then break it off with him, Kate,” she said, taking Kate’s hands within her own. “Do it now before it is too late.”

  “Ronald has already paid off Father’s debts in full and given Mother a generous allowance—one that will keep her in the style of which she has grown accustomed.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Ronald told me himself the day I arrived at Rose Alley, and he reminds me whenever he pleases, which seems to be daily.”

  “What a gentleman,” Marilyn said flatly. “You will not marry him just so our mother can wear pretty gowns and keep her place in society.”

  “But we would be on the streets if not for Lord Balliford, Marilyn.”

  “Aunt Lillith would take us in. She has said as much, and on several occasions. Mother just refuses to accept her help.”

  “Mother does not wish to leave London. She detests Bath.”

  “Aunt Lillith would allow us to stay with her at her London townhouse.”

  Katelyn knew her mother would never relent. “Mother will not accept such charity. Her pride would not allow it.”

  “No, she would rather make you miserable by marrying you off to a man you despise, and all so she will be happy. It matters not at all that you do not wish to marry.”

  How many nights had Katelyn lain awake thinking the very same thing, her fury and resentment toward her mother growing stronger by the day.

  “Now I know why Mother shipped me off to Bath the day before she told you about your engagement to Lord Balliford.”

  “She knew you would protest the marriage.”

  Marilyn nodded. “Exactly, and she knew you would do as she asked, without thought of yourself. When I received your letter telling me the news of your engagement, I felt sick at heart knowing you were sent away with Lord Balliford before we had the opportunity to speak. That is the only reason I agreed to attend this event at Claymoore Hall on the condition you acted as my chaperone until Aunt Lillith could come.”

  “I am so grateful you asked me.”

  “I knew Mother had a previous engagement in London, so she could not attend.”

  Katelyn wondered if Marilyn knew that their mother had been sighted with a twenty-one-year-old tradesman’s son. Apparently, they had started a heated affair when she’d been visiting a good friend and the young man had come around with a delivery.

  Marilyn squeezed Katelyn’s hands within her own. “We have seven days until Aunt Lillith arrives, and in that time we must come up with a plan to break off your engagement to Lord Balliford.”

  Katelyn stared into her sister’s blue eyes, and for the first time in weeks felt a glimmer of hope.

  “If I break the engagement, rumors will circulate, which could possibly destroy any chance of you finding a man to marry. Our family could be ruined. What would others—”

  “Will you stop worrying about what other people will do or say? Forget them and forget Mother. Lord knows she has forgotten about your happiness. Has she asked you even once how you feel about marrying Lord Balliford?”

  “Never.”

  “Exactly, Kate. Because she doesn’t care.”

  Katelyn swallowed past the lump lodged in her throat. “I will think on it, but for now I want only to enjoy myself these next two weeks while we are in the country.”

  “Fair enough,” Marilyn replied, glancing out the window, a pleased smile curving her lips.

  “Tell me more about this party. Your letter said very little.”

  Marilyn’s eyes lit up. “Well, it is rumored that Lord and Lady Rochester are quite determined to find wives for all three of their sons.”

  “All three at once?” Katelyn replied, grateful the subject had been changed.

  “Yes, all three,” Marilyn said, brows lifted high.

  “How very ambitious.”

  “Finding wives should not be too difficult. After all, they are called the Rakehells of Rochester—each wickedly beautiful and with a scandalous reputation to match. You should hear some of the stories.”

  Katelyn laughed under her breath. “The poor things. They must be positively horrified to know their days of licentious behavior are coming to an abrupt end.”

  Marilyn grinned. “I sincerely doubt they will stop their mischievous ways because of marriage.”

  “Such is the way of men, I am afraid,” Katelyn said absently.

  “Agreed.”

  “I wonder if they are truly as handsome as rumored,” Katelyn murmured. “After all, one person’s beautiful and another person’s beautiful can be very different indeed.”

  Marilyn sat forward in the seat. “Well, they are all said to be tall, broad-shouldered, and have dark hair and lovely light-colored eyes. The youngest brother has been called a walking Greek god.”

  Katelyn laughed. “A Greek god, no less!”

  “Yes, he is said to have bedded every single woman in Rochester between the ages of sixteen and forty—both single and married women, mind you.”

  Katelyn frowned. “Sixteen and forty! I find that hard to believe.”

  “Perhaps, but it does make one curious, does it not?” Marilyn said with a wicked laugh. “I am anxious to see if the rumors are true. Who knows, perhaps one of the brothers will steal your heart, and then you will be forced to end this farce of an engagement with Lord Balliford.”

  “I would not count on it,” Katelyn said, wondering if playing chaperone, especially in a house full of beautiful young men, all of whom were seeking wives, had been a wise decision. Would she leave feeling bitter and jealous, or relieved to be engaged to a mature man who, although strict and boringly
proper, would give her a stable life?

  3

  The cacophony of noise coming from the parlor made Sinjin yearn to turn on his heel, return to his chamber, and not surface until the end of what would doubtless be a fortnight of horrific proportions.

  Since arriving at their country manor the day before, he had been moody and on edge.

  “Shoot me now,” Victor said, slugging back a shot of their father’s finest whiskey.

  Sinjin glanced at Victor, who, wearing a new navy suit, had been uncommonly pale since the first prospective bride had stepped foot in Claymoore Hall at nine this morning. Since then, one carriage after another had unloaded giggling young women and their chaperones at the manor’s main entrance.

  Clapping his brother on the back, Sinjin said, “Come, Victor. It is only marriage, after all. You look as though you’re attending a hanging, for God’s sake.”

  “I think I would prefer a hanging right about now,” Victor said, looking like he meant it.

  As though on cue, the double doors to the parlor opened and a footman cleared his throat, ready to announce their entry, but Sinjin shook his head. The servant’s eyes widened and he quickly shut the door with a loud bang.

  “I think I might prefer death,” Rory said, loosening his extravagantly tied cravat. “Jesus Christ, this thing is so bloody tight it is nearly strangling me. Oh, and speaking of…do you know what I dreamt last night?”

  Sinjin fought to keep from smiling at his brother’s dramatic pause.

  “No, but do tell,” Victor prompted.

  “I dreamt I was shackled to a bed and allowed only food and water. And my wife, who, mind you, had no face, held a vicious-looking knife and stared maliciously at my cock. I need not tell you what she intended.”

  “No face?” Victor said, ignoring the last, most dramatic part of the dream. “At least you didn’t see her face. Imagine if you had. It would ruin the suspense.”

  Rory narrowed his eyes. “What do you think it means, though?”

  “I do not know what your dream means,” Victor said, sounding irritated, “but I do know I could use another shot of whiskey. Where the bloody hell is Jeffries?”

  “I have had four drinks already. It was get pissed or lose my mind,” Rory said, yanking on a glove. “Christ, I hate these blasted things! Haven’t worn them in years, but Mother insisted.”

  “We are to do everything by the book,” Victor added, running his hands through his unruly hair. “Do you think it is too late to enlist in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy?”

  Rory snorted. “You, in the navy?”

  Victor looked like he had been socked in the face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Rory’s lips quirked. “You hate confrontation. You always have. I just cannot imagine you—”

  “And what, you are an expert because you have met a hundred different husbands on the dueling field? Why is it you must always fuck married women, Rory?” Victor asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Have you not recognized the danger in such a pastime?”

  Rory puffed out his chest. “I could beat any man with pistol or sword. Can you say the same?”

  Victor rolled his eyes. “What an accomplishment.”

  Sinjin stepped between them. “We can stand and quarrel amongst ourselves all night, or we can open that door, walk into that room, and God willing, find women who are tolerable, so we can make our parents happy. Who knows, if I find a woman first, then perhaps Mother will not push so hard for the two of you to find brides.”

  Rory instantly brightened, his quarrel with Victor forgotten. “Do you think that might be the case?”

  Victor glanced at Sinjin, his brows furrowed. “Mother never changes her mind. It is a nice thought, and I appreciate you putting yourself on the chopping block, but I think it will be to no avail. Mother is quite determined.”

  “There is always a first time for everything,” Rory said, straightening his jacket.

  Sinjin cleared his throat loudly, and as expected, the footman opened the door with great aplomb. To Sinjin’s surprise, a good five dozen women looked back at them with wide smiles. One woman even burst into a fit of giggles until her chaperone elbowed her.

  Sinjin’s gut clenched with a sinking feeling as he looked around the long parlor of young ladies. There had been a reason his mistresses had not been of the peerage.

  “Hello, my dears!” Betsy said as she came toward them, maternal pride shining in her brilliant blue eyes. She had certainly dressed for the occasion, wearing a new dress of yellow silk, complete with matching turban that covered her graying hair.

  “Where is Father when we need him?” Rory asked absently.

  Sinjin caught Victor’s sideways glance. He had not told either of his brothers he had spoken to their mother about their father’s absence. Every time he had brought up the subject, she had avoided it, but last night she had finally broke down and told Sinjin that his father was very ill. So ill he could not make the journey from their home in Rochester to Claymoore Hall. At that moment, Sinjin had realized exactly why their mother had given them the ultimatum to marry. Gerard Rayborne, tenth earl of Rochester, needed peace of mind before meeting his maker.

  Though Sinjin did not like the idea of being forced into marriage, he was determined to find a bride so his father could die knowing his bloodline would continue. Plus, he’d had many years to sow his wild oats, and had had his fair share of lovers and experiences—not that he necessarily planned on remaining faithful after marriage.

  God willing, his future wife was standing in this very room.

  “Will you look at her,” Rory said, bringing Sinjin up short. He followed his brother’s gaze to two young women standing at the far end of the long parlor, standing in profile to him, looking out the open window, toward the garden. Just then, a cool breeze tossed the silky auburn curls of the slightly taller woman.

  Intrigued, Sinjin took another step into the room. The young lady wore a lovely green silk gown, the low bodice displaying nice, full breasts, slightly hidden by a lace modesty piece. She was slender but also had a bit of curve, which he liked as well. The blood in his veins warmed, swooping low into his groin.

  “She’s mine,” Rory said, moving swiftly past him.

  Sinjin grabbed his wrist. “Not this time, little brother.”

  Rory jerked his hand free. “That’s not fair, Sin. I saw her first.”

  “For Christ’s sake, you two—we are no longer children.” Victor shook his head in disgust and pushed by both of them. “Let the lady decide which one of you she prefers. Who knows, she might surprise you both and want me.” He flashed a cocky smile and, thankfully, walked off in the opposite direction of the lovely redhead.

  Sinjin was thankful he was tall, giving him an advantage in a room full of people, the majority of whom happened to be of the fairer sex.

  At least his mother had seen to it to invite a few other males to the party. It would have been exceedingly awkward otherwise.

  Crossing the parlor, he straightened his cravat while keeping an eye on the beauty by the window. He smiled cordially as he passed through the crowd. He did not want to appear rude to those who wished to talk to him, but he had every intention of meeting the auburn-haired Venus before Rory swooped in and swept her off her feet.

  One look at his youngest brother and most women forgot how to speak.

  Unfortunately for Sinjin, the woman in question had not so much as glanced in his direction, completely occupied with the goings-on outside, as was the brunette at her side.

  His heart accelerated when she brushed a curl out of her face, her graceful fingers lingering on her slender throat. He mentally groaned. Already he yearned to kiss a trail down that long, elegant neck. Hell, he wanted more than that. He wanted her flat on her back beneath him.

  Desire rushed through his body as he continued to stare. She had a lovely profile—full, luscious lips, high cheekbones, and a small, dainty nose.

  He wondered what col
or her eyes would be. Maybe blue, perhaps brown, or green like her gown? Whatever the color, he had the feeling her eyes would be extraordinary—that she would be extraordinary.

  She must have sensed his stare, because she abruptly turned and looked directly at him.

  His heart literally skipped a beat. She was stunningly beautiful. Perfect in every way.

  Perhaps marriage wouldn’t be so horrible after all.

  She seemed genuinely surprised by his attention. Indeed, with brow lifted high, she even went so far as to glance to her right, only to find no one there. He could see her hesitation as she met his gaze again.

  He grinned, pleased to find a rose amongst weeds.

  She flashed a quick smile, displaying perfectly straight white teeth and the slightest hint of dimples.

  As he continued toward her, she looked somewhat startled and took a step closer to her companion, whispering something in her ear.

  The other woman turned to look at him and smiled coyly, showing large dimples. Such a brilliant smile. He looked from one woman to the other and saw a slight resemblance. Perhaps they were sisters?

  He was within a dozen steps away from the lovely duo when someone reached out and stopped his progress. Mrs. Livingston, a wealthy American widow, beamed up at him. “Sinjin, dear, I would like you to meet my daughter, Suzanne.”

  Suzanne was not unattractive, nor was she a beauty, but she had expressive eyes, which roamed over every inch of Sinjin’s body. Rumor had it the young American had fallen in love with one of the slaves on her father’s impressive Virginia plantation. The man in question had disappeared and her mother had whisked Suzanne away, intent on finding a wealthy, titled husband in order to stop the gossipmongers.

  At the first break in conversation, Sinjin excused himself and breathed a sigh of relief to see Rory was occupied with a group of young women.

  Grateful for the diversion that gave him the upper hand over his brother, Sinjin reached the beautiful sisters and bowed. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  They curtsied. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

  “I am Sinjin Rayborne, but my friends call me Mawbry.”