An American Lady

by Emma Brady

  “You are my guardian.”

  “I am your brother, and you hardly listen to me.”

  “Then consider this a refreshing change.”

  Lucas sighed and it caused the polished wood to fog over.

  “Who would you be inviting into our home every week?”

  “My friends.”

  That answer was hardly satisfying. Lucas got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “Which friends precisely?”

  “The Downing twins and Maria Burrows.”

  A picture of these three women materialized in his mind. They had been friends with his sister for far longer than he cared to remember. Abigail and Andrea Downing were identical church mice with copper colored hair and wide, innocent eyes. The soft tones of their voices often got lost in conversation, so they seldom spoke at all. The silence was easily filled by the harsh clipped tones of Ms. Burrows. Her voice and her face both reminded Lucas of an old horse he once rode.

  “You will not even notice we are here,” she pleaded, sensing his resolve was cracking, “Just a simple hello when they arrive is all that is needed from you.”

  “I do not want to speak to those ninnies.”

  “That is hardly fair. You know Maria has a fondness for you.”

  With a growl, Lucas lifted his head to glare at her. A soft blush crept up her slender neck.

  “I have no fondness for her and you know it.”

  “Maybe you should think about it. You are going to be nine and twenty soon.”

  “That hardly puts me in my dotage.”

  “It seems old to me.”

  “You are only eighteen.”

  A shrug was her only response. Soft blonde ringlets framed the delicate features of her face, giving her a gentle demeanor. In contrast to his height of over six and a half feet, she was dainty at five feet flat. Everything about her seemed so tiny, but his sister was not as fragile as she looked. Beneath the soft exterior hid a backbone of steel. He worked hard to protect her, but he knew she was more than capable of caring for herself.

  “I am not ready to get married.”

  “Are you waiting for love then?”

  He chuckled with genuine humor at his sisters romantic notions. Based on those he knew, marriages in their class were rarely for anything more than money. When he married, he expected it would be to produce children and nothing more. He only hoped his wife had a quiet demeanor and pretty face.

  “You and I both know that when I marry it will be advantageous to the family.”

  “Do you really believe that will bring you happiness?”

  “Our parents married for love and happiness did not come to them.”

  The former earl had drunk himself into an early death after his wife had died and not many shed a tear about it. Their marriage had been one built on love and control. His father had been so controlling that his mother had withered inside this house. After her death, the guilt had eaten up the earl until his own passing. Lucas remembered few happy moments in his childhood, and Charlotte couldn’t recall anything of their parents. He had only been fourteen when his father had passed, leaving him to raise Charlotte who had been four.

  “Then you should be thinking about your happiness, not about your income.”

  “I will be happy with a calm, cultured wife and a well tended home.”

  Her eyes rolled back as she tilted up her nose at him. That was her way of saying she disagreed. He arched an eyebrow, daring her to elaborate.

  Charlotte cleared her throat and avoided his gaze. “I might have heard you had different tastes in women.”

  Lucas felt the muscles in his neck tightening until he couldn’t turn his head to bore his angry gaze into his sister’s flushed face.

  “What might you have heard?”

  “That you have a preference for French redheads.”

  For a moment he was shocked at what his innocent sister made a reference to. His mistress had been discreet as far as he knew. Perhaps she thought to use rumors as a way to secure marriage from him. If that was so, she would be disappointed.

  “I am surprised you would listen to such rumors.”

  “I heard them from a reliable source.”

  “Ms. Burrows, no doubt.”

  “Maria thought I should be prepared in case such things are mentioned in more public settings.”

  “That hardly makes sense to me.”

  “You would not understand, since you are a man.”

  Lucas shook his head, wondering why he couldn’t have been left with a brother. Men were so much easier to understand. The layers of a woman could get a man lost, never to be found again.

  “I have good news,” he said, deciding that a change of subject might be in order, “We have been invited to attend a ball with the Duke and Duchess of Davenport in a few days.”

  Charlotte’s face took on the unattractive look of a flounder fish. Her delicate lips opened and closed at a rapid rate. Shock lit up her eyes and he felt a great deal of sympathy for her.

  “I could not show my face after the disaster at the Garrison’s.”

  “Of course you can. If you pretend it did not happen no one will remember.”

  She laughed at him and his advice. Few people would do such a thing openly.

  “I am hardly a diamond of the first water, Lucas,” she said. “People will not be eager to forgive my mistakes.”

  “Of course they will. You are a rose, ready to bloom.”

  That was something Lucas had told her since she was a child, it never failed to bring a smile to her. Lucas felt himself smiling as well at her happiness and he hoped that the men of the ton would be as dazzled by her as he was.

  “Did you hear that James and Lillith have a granddaughter?” he asked, remembering the other piece of important news he had. “She will also be making her debut at this ball.”

  “Then I will do my best to give her a warm welcome.”

  “Charlotte, you are a darling person.”

  “You will do good to remember that next time you see my friends.”

  The earl groaned but a smile still played on his lips. He knew he had lost that particular argument, but it didn’t bother him. The smile on her face was worth a few uncomfortable moments with the young ladies.

  “Perhaps the duke’s granddaughter would like to join my tea group as well,” Charlotte continued. “It might cheer her up.”

  “Let us focus on the ball first.”

  Nodding her head, his little sister bounced back out of the room, leaving him feeling older and more tired than usual. One young woman was on the verge of wearing him down, two might well be the end of him.

  Chapter 4

  The inside of Sinclair’s stomach turned beneath the soft fabric of her dress. Her fingers drummed along the wall as she walked the short distance from her room to the top of the grand staircase. She could hear the guests moving about downstairs. Taking a breath, she shifted within the confines of her corset. Cursing beneath her breath, Sinclair placed her best smile on her face and began down the stairs.

  It had taken only a week to make the adjustments to her dress and now it fit her perfectly. The clingy fabric flowed along her body with every movement. The maid had spent hours trying to tame her wild curls into something fashionable with pleasant results, but even now curls were falling around her neck. A blush crept up the low cut bodice and over her practically bare shoulders beneath the fabric draped off of them. The deep red color accented her full lips and the dark gloss of her hair.

  “Ah, my granddaughter finally arrives,” she heard James remark.

  The man her grandfather talked to turned around to look at her as she stopped on the stairs. To her surprise it was the man she had found sitting in her foyer on the first day she arrived. Embarrassed, Sinclair hoped he might not remember her. The way his deep green eyes traveled up to her face showed that he recognized her and noticed the difference in her appearance.

  “Your sense of timing is no doub
t the work of your grandmother,” the duke muttered, glancing at his wife who smiled back at him.

  “Introduce them,” Lillith hissed at him with a nudge.

  “Lucas Sutton, Earl of Westmore, may I introduce my granddaughter, Sinclair Brown?”

  Tilting her head slightly, Sinclair couldn’t stop from openly staring at the man. He was tall enough to look her in the eye when she stood two stairs above him. Broad shoulders draped in an expensive black jacket blocked the entire entrance. Still, it was his eyes that sent chills across her skin. They were the richest green color she’d ever seen. They twinkled as he bent over to brush a kiss across her hand.

  “Sinclair, this is Lady Charlotte Sutton, the earl’s sister.”

  For a moment Sinclair had difficulty looking away from the earl’s handsome face. Forcing her eyes to move, she glanced away quickly. Standing to the left of Lucas was a girl that looked exactly like a china doll she’d once owned. Tiny hands were tucked inside of each other in a demure fashion as she peeked up at Sinclair from beneath her thin lashes. Pale skin and paler hair gave her a fragile appearance that was complimented by the soft sea color of her wide eyes. Extending her hand, Sinclair waited for the girl to accept her offer of friendship.

  “My sister is a bit shy,” Lucas mumbled when his sister continued to stand and stare at Sinclair’s outstretched hand.

  “I’m usually quite shy myself,” said Sinclair, reaching out to take one of the thin hands in her own. “I’m simply pretending to be this confident.”

  The girl snapped back into the present, a smile lit up her face. Sinclair decided she liked the young girl, despite her timidity. Normally Sinclair couldn’t abide simpering women who were prone to fits and tears, but something in Charlotte’s face made Sinclair feel the girl hid a stronger backbone than she let on.

  “Shall we go in now?” James asked, taking his wife’s arm through his own.

  Charlotte took the duke’s other arm leaving only Lucas to escort Sinclair into the ballroom. She kept her eyes carefully averted as she slipped her arm into his. The muscles beneath her fingers felt like rock, like that of a man who worked hard. That was a rare thing in this society, but Sinclair found it interesting. Her father had once had such muscles.

  “What is it that you do, Lord Westmore?”

  Her question must have taken him surprise because his eyebrows knitted together.

  “I have recently found success in the shipping industry.”

  “There’s quite a bit of money to be made in that. My father owned such a business.”

  “It is a shame he had no one to take over in his absence.”

  “What do you mean? I have control of the company now.”

  His laughter rang out, causing Sinclair to blush in anger. The man had some nerve to mock her in her own home. When she could no longer stand the sound of it, she gave a sharp slap to his arm with her own.

  “I don’t know what you find so amusing. My knowledge of the industry is more than most men.”

  “But who would want to work for a woman?”

  “The men who my father employed have no problems answering to his daughter.”

  She could see him stifling another chuckle and it made her teeth grind against each other.

  “Perhaps in America you can manage, but this is London. Women here are not allowed such liberties.”

  “Who is there to stop them?” she asked.

  “Society. They would be cast out for such behavior.”

  He said it with such certainty that Sinclair felt her mouth fall open. The man had no shame about his opinion and looked at her like she was mad for not knowing.

  “So you think that a woman wouldn’t be able to run a business?” she finally gathered herself enough to speak.

  “Not one like your father’s. That should be left to a man. I hope he named someone to take his place after he was gone.”

  “Just not me?”

  Lucas laughed. “Of course not. I meant a man you could trust to run it for you, so you don’t have to worry about the money. You can still own it, but you need a man to take care of it.”

  “You seemed like such an intelligent man.” Sinclair glared. “Then you opened your mouth and proved me wrong.”

  With a stab at his chest with her finger, Sinclair gave him her most determined look. Without a polite word, she twirled around and headed straight towards his sister. Hopefully, not everyone in his family was so obtuse. Charlotte trembled as she stood staring at the crowds of people.

  “This is my first time in London,” Sinclair said in an effort to help them both relax. “I hope things aren’t terribly different.”

  “Did you attend things like this in America?”

  Charlotte’s voice was barely a whisper, making Sinclair’s clear tone that much louder. Forcing herself to lower her voice, Sinclair shrugged casually.

  “A few but they were never successful.”

  “Did you do something scandalous or embarrassing?”

  “No, I mostly spent time near the refreshments.”

  Charlotte gave a sympathetic nod as they stood in the ballroom. Sinclair’s breath caught in her chest as she looked around at the familiar scene with unfamiliar faces. The same fears that had haunted her through every social function in Chicago still sunk into her stomach and caused her to feel uneasy. Without realizing it she had begun to grip Charlotte’s arm until the girl gave a small squeak.

  “Sorry,” Sinclair said, staring at the crowds of people circling the large room.

  It felt as if her body were frozen in place. Not a single muscle was capable of propelling her forward as she stood with her eyes wide in fear. The erratic pattern of her breathing became more frenzied and her head began to spin. She prayed she would not faint in front of these strangers.

  “Do not let them sense your fear, Miss Brown,” a deep, masculine voice whispered in her ear.

  Lucas had walked up behind her without making a sound and now watched her face for her emotions. Her mother often said that every thought she had played out across her face. He looked at her like he knew she was afraid. That smug expression reminded her that he was intolerably full of himself. A slight tremble went through her body as his words settled in. As quickly as it came it went and was replaced by a rigid posture.

  “I’m not afraid,” she hissed over her shoulder at him.

  The earl raised an eyebrow but wisely chose to remain silent. Even now, with her face set in such a brittle smile, she was intimidated by these people. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Sinclair forced her feet to move her forward. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks as people turned to stare at her. She heard Lucas grumbling something, but when she glanced back at him he was silent.

  “Sinclair, may I present Michael Rupert, Viscount Andrews,” James called, pushing a sharply dressed young man through the crowd toward them.

  “Please, call me Michael.” The young man bowed to her and Charlotte.

  “I don’t feel I know you well enough for such a privilege,” Sinclair replied with a flat tone to her voice.

  There was something about the slick looking gentleman that made her feel uneasy. The sharp look in his gaze assessed her without feeling. It reminded her of the men who bought fish at the market.

  “Then may I have a dance?”

  “Of course, as soon as you choose a partner.”

  Lucas almost choked on the cup of champagne he sipped. The viscount was at a loss for words, something Sinclair assumed to be rare. Of average height, build and intellect, Michael was the type of man Sinclair despised most. He thought too much of himself and not enough of others. Sinclair allowed the faint hint of a smile to pass her lips.

  “I had been hoping for one of yours,” Michael said, stumbling a bit over his words.

  “Well, you should learn to be a bit more specific,” she replied, batting her thick lashes at him in mock innocence. “A girl could be easily confused.”

  Sinclair watched as the viscount’s face chang
e from flustered to flattered and felt like laughing out loud. The earl’s comment earlier had been the spark she needed to throw herself into the role of lovely hostess. No one accused a Brown of being afraid. Now as she saw him watching her out of the corner of her eye, she wondered if he was amused with performance.

  “My friend Charlotte and I are deeply in need of some refreshment,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m afraid all the excitement has left me slightly parched.”

  “Allow me,” The viscount rushed off to retrieve drinks for the two girls.

  “I was not thirsty,” Charlotte piped in after he’d slipped into the crowd.

  “Neither was I, but I couldn’t continue talking to that man.”

  “He seemed nice.”

  Sinclair snorted then, drawing the attention of both her grandparents and the earl.

  “That man is hardly more than simple,” she replied, averting her eyes from the drilling gaze of her grandfather, “I imagine he expects the same of women.”

  “Is that wrong?” Lucas asked.

  Sinclair couldn’t believe what she had heard. Lucas had a look on his face that made her think he agreed with the stuffy viscount. Could any man really be that ridiculous?

  “I assume, then that you think all women are simple?”

  “I just think that a woman should keep her mind on things that she can handle, like children and the household.”

  “As opposed to women who like to read and study.”

  “What do they need to study for?”

  Shock ran through Sinclair like a lightning bolt and would have prompted her into speech had it not been for the return of the viscount. True to his word, he returned carrying two glasses of champagne in his soft hands.

  “Did I miss something?”

  His placid gray eyes darted from the angry faces of the offended women to the stern look of Lucas. Sinclair wanted desperately to unleash her opinion on the earl, but it would only embarrass her grandparents.

  “Nothing that is worth repeating,” she said, keeping her cool gaze on the earl.

  “Perhaps, after you are feeling refreshed, you might grant me a dance?”

  The viscount had an overly eager expression that annoyed Sinclair for some reason. Having never been the center of male interest, she wasn’t quite sure how to handle such unwanted attention. Gulping down the entire contents of the tiny cup for confidence, she felt her cheeks burn a bright red.