by Wendy Vella
He swallowed his smile and nodded.
“Very well, I shall fuss no more.”
She kissed him again and ran from the room, and he stood looking at the door while the lump in his throat subsided.
“She is a lovely young lady, James. It seems you are both comfortable with each other now.”
“Yes she is, and we are,” James said, reseating himself. He picked up his fork and was soon swallowing a mouthful of kidneys.
“Funny things, sisters.”
James grunted, not terribly keen to get into this conversation, especially as one of the sisters concerned was driving him to the brink of madness.
“Take Eden, for example. She has been acting very strange of late. Bit my head off last night for no apparent reason that I can see.”
Looking at Cam, James could have sworn his intent was nothing more than idle chitchat, and yet....
“She said that I was just like all the other men she had recently met, besides her sainted Devon, of course. Totally without either compassion or emotion, and unable to form a rational thought that anyone would care to listen to, which I found quite harsh considering I was dancing with her. I mean, if not from a sense of duty why would I be partnering my own sister, who can blister me with one look, rather than some docile sweet-natured debutante?”
James grunted again, although this time he was feeling a little more in harmony with the world, knowing Eden was not quite as happy as she appeared.
“Of course, you’re the problem,” Cam added, destroying James’s newfound sense of well-being with those five simple words.
“What?”
“Why the hell don’t you just apologize and then we can all have some peace. The woman’s a veritable fountain of ill humor and it is us, her family, who are suffering.”
“How do you know I have something to apologize for?” James said, indignant. He had done nothing wrong.
Cam merely raised an eyebrow and continued eating.
“She is a shrew,” James snapped, then realizing who he was talking to, he apologized.
Waving his fork around, Cam said, “Think nothing of it. I totally agree with you. However, she is my shrew, therefore I will not have her hurt.”
And just like that Devon made an appearance in his younger brother. The protector was back, ready to do battle if needed. Sighing, James picked up his cup. All he wanted was to eat his breakfast in peace; was it too much to ask?
“What did you say to her?”
None of your bloody business, James thought. “I told her I was incapable of love,” he muttered seconds later.
“That seems a rather serious conversation, James. One hopes it was preceded by an offer of marriage,” Cam said, impaling him with an icy look.
“Of course it was! Do I look like the sort of man to talk of such things in a random fashion?” James growled, and then realizing he had just declared his hand to Eden’s brother he picked up his coffee and gulped it, burning the inside of his mouth. Several vile curses spilled from his lips as he struggled to breathe.
“And Eden turned you down?” Cam said, apparently now enjoying himself hugely, if the smile on his face was any indication.
“Yes,” James rasped.
“What did you say to her?”
Why not? he thought. His life was fast becoming an open book, so why not cut open a few more pages.
“I explained that by marrying me she would ensure my silence about your family’s peculiarities, and that she was good with Samantha, and that I would provide well for her.”
It was now Cam’s turn to choke, only like everything else he did, he did not hold back. James watched as he coughed several drops of tea onto the tablecloth.
“What?” James said, not liking the mixture of humor and pity in the man’s eyes.
“There is little doubt you have a way with words, James.” This was apparently amusing, as Cam started crowing with laughter once more. “L-lord, ‘tis a wonder she left you with all your l-limbs intact,” he managed to stutter out.
James was rapidly regretting the impulse of confiding in Cambridge. It must be because he was tired. Disgusted, he took another small sip of his coffee and waited for his companion to stop laughing.
“F-forgive m-me, I did not mean to laugh at you.”
“Obviously,” James drawled.
“You have to understand, James.”
“For Christ’s sake, man, just spit it out.”
“The thing is, James, Devon has pummeled into each of us that we must marry for love first and comfort second.”
Hence Eden’s reaction.
“It may seem odd when one considers the man my eldest brother portrays himself to be. But he cares deeply for each of us, and once told us that to see us in an unhappy marriage would be a torture he could never bear. Therefore we promised him. When you offered for Eden in such a cold, unemotional manner, she would have been deeply disappointed and, I believe, deeply hurt, hence her current behavior.”
James nodded. She would have been hurt if she cared for him. Did she care for him? The thought should not please him quite as much as it did.
“Do you attend the masquerade this evening, James?”
“Dear God, no!” James shuddered. He loathed masquerades. He could never identify anyone, and could end up talking to his worst enemy—if he knew who that was, of course. When had life become so complicated? He laid the blame firmly at the door of the Sinclairs; it seemed the easiest option.
“Eden attends, and from what I gather her costume is of the revealing variety.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I shall just head to town and get us a couple of costumes, James, and then you will be able to find out firsthand.”
“I hate masquerades,” James grumbled.
“Your Grace, a Mr. Spriggot has arrived and is asking to see you.”
“Thank you, Buttles. Have Mr. Brown serve Mr. Spriggot tea and I will be down shortly,” he directed his butler. “I would like you to come to this meeting, Cam, if you have the time.”
“Of course. Could you tell your cook to use less cinnamon in the buns; Samantha has a small allergy to it.”
It was a testament to how his life had changed and how he had accepted the peculiarities of the Sinclairs that James merely nodded at Cam’s suggestion and made a mental note to speak to Mrs. Gotheram.
Mr. Spriggot looked his usual bland innocuous self, his head wrapped and pomaded with several carefully placed strands of hair. He stood as James and Cam walked into the parlor.
“Your Grace, I have just been making the acquaintance of Mr. Brown, an excellent addition to your household, if I may be so bold. He has given me the details of the poisoning —very nasty business.”
Waving the man back into his seat, James and Cam took theirs.
“Yes, it was a close thing. What news do you have for us, Mr. Spriggot?”
“I believe I have a lead on the men who attempted to murder you. Both are from a small village not far from your home, your Grace. Hired thugs, I am afraid, who I doubt have any links to whoever hired them.”
James had thought this would be the case.
“I have eliminated your father’s two brothers and their wives, and several cousins. I have yet to track down your heir, but as you stated you do not believe he is involved, I am not overly concerned about him.”
James nodded. The man was thorough, which was what he was paying him to be.
“I am afraid the next news I have for you, your Grace, is of a more disturbing nature that you may wish to hear in private,” Mr. Spriggot said, looking James in the eye.
“I will have the tea replenished, your Grace,” Mr. Brown said, rising to leave the room. Buttles walked in as the Bow Street Runner walked out.
“Your Grace, Lord Sinclair has arrived,” Buttles said.
“Of course he has,” James said, looking at the ceiling. “Send him in then, Buttles; it seems my life is to be an open book.”
“You get used to it, James.” Cam slapped him on the back.
Devonshire Sinclair strode into the room, instantly filling up the remaining spaces.
“Raven, pardon the intrusion,” Dev said, looking anything but repentant.
“Think nothing of it, Sinclair. Mr. Spriggot here was about to share with us a startling secret he has unearthed, and as removing you both would be a herculean effort that I do not have the strength for this morning, take a seat.”
Devon shook hands with the investigator, then seated himself beside his brother. James wasn’t sure why he wanted them there; perhaps because these men were responsible for his safety, even if he did not wish them to be.
“Speak, sir, these men are bent on the same purpose as I, to find whoever is trying to kill me, and I would trust them to keep their silence.” As I will keep mine, he added to himself.
“Through my investigations, your Grace, I fear I have made some discoveries of an alarming nature in concern with your father.”
“Everything about my father was alarming, Mr. Spriggot. He was a vile, evil-tempered man who cared only for himself. I am sure nothing you say will shock me.”
Mr. Spriggot looked uncomfortable. “As you are aware, your father had two wives, the first your mother and the second, Lady Samantha’s mother. But you may not be aware that your father also took many mistresses, your Grace, and it appears that two of those mistresses had five children between them.”
“And where are these mistresses and children, Mr. Spriggot?” Devon questioned when James failed to speak.
Dear Christ, James thought. Why had he not considered this possibility?
“Three are in France with their mother and two are here in England. Their mother has passed on.”
“What relevance do these revelations have to the investigation and the attempts on the Duke’s life?” Cam questioned.
“Miss Tolly, the late Duke’s second mistress, died a very slow and painful death of a wasting disease that affected her lungs. Her son and daughter nursed her and when they ran out of money for food they approached the late Duke for support. He turned them away. The townspeople I spoke with told me the Tolly family was left homeless and on the streets. The mother did not last much longer without care.”
“My father abandoned them?” James said, his voice hoarse.
“It appears that way, your Grace. The family traveled from town to town living on the goodwill of the people until their mother died. I have tracked them to Dover but the trail ran cold after that.”
James felt sick. His palms were sweating, his breathing shallow. Climbing to his feet, he paced to the windows. If I could lay my hands on you, sire, I would tear you apart. How could one man be so evil?
“And you believe that these Tollys could be behind the attempts on the Duke’s life?”
James listened as Cam and Devon questioned Mr. Spriggot on his behalf.
He and Samantha had half brothers and sisters. The thought shocked him more than it should. He knew what his father had been, yet not once had he considered that he may have sired more children.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that, Lord Sinclair. Yet I believe it must be a possibility until it can be discounted.”
“Of course. Please do what you must, Mr. Spriggot, and report to the Duke with any findings,” Devon said. James watched him rise and usher the investigator from the room.
“I shall head into town, James, and get our costumes,” Cam said, getting to his feet when his brother returned. He walked forward and gripped James’s shoulder before leaving the room.
Minutes passed and slowly James managed to haul in a steady, calming breath. Only then did Devon begin to speak.
“When Eden told me what our father had done to her, I knew I had failed in the one thing I had vowed since she first turned to me as a babe. I had failed to protect her, and no words could have comforted me at that time. To realize that the man I had known as my father was in fact a monster who mistreated my sister was a revelation that rocked the foundations I walked upon. For men like us who live with order and control, caring for those we love is entrenched within us, and when something happens to tilt our world it is very hard to readjust the balance.”
James listened as Devon spoke, taking in each word while he sorted through the turmoil inside his head.
“Changes are happening, Raven, for better or worse, and I would offer my support if you should need it in any capacity.”
James, who had turned to face the window, felt Devon draw closer. He laid a hand on James’s shoulder as Cam had done.
“In death he can no longer cause harm, James. Do not allow what he did in life to consume you. Give freedom to your rage and then find a way to fix the wrongs.”
James exhaled as he heard the door closing softly behind Devon. Staggering sideways, he fell into the nearest chair.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Get back to your room and put on the rest of those dresses at once!” Devon thundered.
Eden simply rolled her eyes as she and Essie continued down the stairs to join the family before leaving for the masquerade.
“I am serious!”
“Oooh, they look like mermaids,” Dorrie said, ignoring her scowling brother and touching the silky fabric of Eden’s skirts.
“I mean it!” Dev added loudly.
“Don’t be so stodgy, Dev, they look like sea princesses,” Somer said, walking behind Essie as she stepped off the bottom stair. “Your hair falls to your waist and it shimmers. What did your maid put in it?”
“Small pearls,” Eden said, pulling a strand forward and bending to show her sisters how it had been attached.
“For God’s sake, do not bend over like that when in company!”
“Devon, darling, relax. Your sisters are quite adequately covered and more so than many,” Lady Wynburg said, taking the tense arm of her nephew.
Eden looked at her brother. He was handsome dressed as a pirate in fitted black breeches and a flowing white shirt.
“Adequately covered? I think not.”
Essie giggled as Eden poked out her tongue.
“At least put on your cloaks before you get sick,” he added as he removed his sword and handed it to Warwick, who inspected it thoroughly.
“I want one just like this,” the young boy breathed, holding it reverently.
“And one day you shall.” Eden rubbed his head.
Lord Wynburg walked into the room dressed as Henry the Eighth, the outfit suiting his large frame. His wife was dressed as one of his many wives, although Eden was uncertain which one.
“Now you three go to bed and we will tell you all about the masquerade in the morning,” Lord Wynburg said, planting loud smacking kisses on the twins’ cheeks. Warwick he merely kissed on the top of his head, which the boy seemed happy with.
After many hugs and kisses and well wishes they were soon in the carriages and on their way. Devon, Eden, and Essie in one and the Earl and Countess in the other, as the latter had suggested they would leave early to attend another gathering.
Eden hoped James did not attend tonight. Each evening she had forced herself to smile and laugh and pretend she was happy when in fact she was miserable. What luck to fall in love with a man who could not love her back? A man with deep emotional scars from a father who had not loved him. She had avoided him as best she could, and yet for some reason he insisted on asking her to dance. Solemn faced, he would make his request, and each time she would tell him she was promised to another. He would then bow and walk away, but not before she saw the flash of anger in his eyes. What had he to be angry about? It was he who had hurt her.
“We are here, Eden.”
Surprised, she looked at the hand Dev held out to her. She had not even felt the carriage stop.
“I would ask you to treat the Duke fairly tonight, Eden. The man has suffered a shock today that would in any other man have him staying behind locked doors.”
“What sort of shock?” Eden asked,
hating the fear that pooled in the pit of her stomach.
“That is for him to tell you, not I.”
“Perhaps had he treated me fairly I would do the same to him!” Eden snapped, and was instantly ashamed of her petulant behavior. The man had turned her into a shrew. She was subjected to one of her brother’s steady looks, which made her toes curl inside her evening slippers.
“I am aware that something has happened between you and the Duke, yet as you will not tell me what, I ask only that if you encounter him you are polite.”
Eden nodded stiffly but said nothing further. They followed several other guests through the front doors, where they handed over their cloaks and then joined the line to greet their hosts.
She should not have come. Her humors were foul and the dress that in the privacy of her bedroom had looked lovely now suddenly felt gaudy, exposing far too much of her body. Pulling her hair forward, she hid her chest.
The ballroom was a riot of color. Flowers and silk streamers hung from the walls and a huge fountain cascaded water high upon a dais. Everyone wore masks. Eden saw a shepherdess and a gypsy and many Henry the Eighths.
“Good Lord,” Dev whispered.
“Is it too much for you to see?” Eden questioned, taking his arm. Sometimes an explosion of color could affect him, even blinding him momentarily. It would be many times worse if he were to use his other sight.
“I will be all right once I become accustomed to it,” he said, slowly making his way down the stairs.
“Cam will spend the whole night sniffing,” Eden whispered, “and Essie will want to taste every delicious morsel.”
“Ahhh gluttony,” Essie sighed, “my gravest sin.”
“Incoming from the left,” Dev drawled making Eden and Essie’s heads turn in that direction. “Behave yourselves, sisters, I see a Cleopatra in need of a dance partner.
As Dev left, the Frenchman arrived with eyes only for Eden’s sister.
“Lord Laurent.” Essie sank into a curtsey, her smile wide as she rose.
“Miss Sinclair, will you allow me to say I have never seen a more beautiful mermaid.”