Catherine Archer - Lord Sin

Having become even more friendly with the couple when they were in London right before Jedidiah’s trip to America, Ian was content that Victoria had made the right choice for herself. It was more than obvious that the newlyweds were completely devoted to one another. How could he begrudge them such happiness?

As he came closer to the house, Ian could not help comparing it with his own family estate, a place he had not visited in two years. Briarwood was pale and bright, while Sinclair Hall seemed dark and austere in contrast. It was as if the exterior of his ancestral home reflected the stilted emotions and lack of forgiveness in the hearts of those inside.

Ian did not want to think about that. He had spent the eleven years since he was seventeen doing everything he could to keep himself from thinking about it. A fact that had left him with a less than savory reputation.

He drew his horse to a halt at the bottom of the wide steps. A liveried manservant came out to take his horse as soon as his feet touched the ground.

When he entered the high-ceilinged foyer, Victoria was coming across the marble floor, her hands outstretched. She smiled, and Ian could not help seeing what a beautiful woman she was in spite of her advancing pregnancy. Her creamy skin was touched by a delicate flush of health and her dark locks gleamed, as did her gray eyes. Victoria was favored with spirit and intelligence as well as beauty. It was with only the slightest twinge of regret that Ian told himself again that Jedidiah McBride was a very fortunate man.

For some reason he had a brief image of Mary Fulton’s eyes, her wind-tousled golden hair. When Victoria took his hands and spoke, it disappeared. “We were surprised and so happy to receive your letter saying you would be in the district. It is good of you to come and visit us.”

Ian smiled at her, kissing her offered cheek in a brotherly fashion. Usually with this woman, if no other, he felt completely at ease, with no need to play intricate sensual games. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place. Yet at this moment he had need to call upon his skills at acting.

Jedidiah had been the one to contact him, having decided to purchase one of Ian’s finest mares as a birthday surprise for his wife. The mare was tied behind the carriage that was some hours behind him. Ian was not about to give away the secret. “How could I stay away?” he told her with exaggerated clutching at his chest. “You know you have stolen my heart, Lady Victoria.”

She gave him a mocking reprimand. “Do please discontinue this kind of talk. Your heart is safely locked in your chest, where I believe it will continue to reside, Ian.”

At his pained expression and declaration of “Now you’ve mortally wounded me,” she laughed, as he had meant her to.

After taking his coat with a quelling glance, Victoria handed it to another footman. She said, “John, please have Mrs. Everard send tea into the sitting room.”

“Very well, my lady.” The young, dark-haired serving man bowed to each of them respectfully and moved off across the marble floor.

Victoria then linked her arm through Ian’s and led him forward. “Now come into the sitting room and we’ll have tea. Jedidiah is off showing one of the tenants how to set up an irrigation system. He should be back shortly.”

As they moved across the foyer Ian could not help thinking again what a charming home Briarwood Manor was. In spite of its size and grandeur, it reverberated a feeling of comfort and warmth. Through the open doorways on either side of them he could see into rooms where the drapes had been drawn back to let in the light. He gained the impression of a pleasant mix of pale and vibrant colors that made each chamber seem to beckon a welcome.

Once more Ian could not help comparing it to Sinclair Hall. He tried not to acknowledge the melancholy that tugged at his heart on doing so. His own ancestral home he found lacking on every score. The rooms of that great house were kept dark and closed off, a fitting home for the ghosts that roamed its halls. And there were ghosts—not only the ghost of his mother, who had died giving birth to him, but also that of his brother, Malcolm.

The thought of his brother made his heart ache with loss. Ian had loved Malcolm with a devotion that was akin to hero-worship. Even Ian’s very early understanding that his father’s love for himself would never come close to that of his older son had not changed Ian’s feelings for Malcolm. He had been intelligent, loving and so full of life. How could anyone begrudge him anything, least of all Ian? Malcolm had been the sun they all orbited around. That was why his father had never been able to forgive Ian when he believed his younger son had caused Malcolm’s death.

It was a death that he had, in fact, not been responsible for.

Ian’s lips thinned as he pushed the painful thoughts away. It was surprising how difficult this was to do, especially when he had worked so diligently to forget in the intervening years. Nothing—not drink, not women, not horse racing—had made him forget for more than brief hours. Realizing that living as Lord Sin was not making him forget had made Ian wish to change his life. He had thought Victoria would be part of that new life, but that had not come to pass.

Victoria led him into the sitting room, where they seated themselves on a pale green settee. Immediately Ian turned to her, needing to concentrate on something beyond his hurtful thoughts. “It seems Jed is keeping himself busy with the duties of running the estates.”

She rested a hand on the swell of her stomach. Contentment and pride were clear in her tone and shining gray eyes. “Yes, he is. He never seems to resent the burdens marrying me has laid at his feet. He does in fact seem to thrive on the work and responsibility of looking after the welfare of so many.” She smiled ruefully. “And I am grateful for him for more reasons than I can say. Not the least of which is that his care for our lands has freed me to be a mother to my child.”

Ian heard her speak of Jedidiah’s pleasure in his duties as overlord with a trace of regret. He would not be averse to taking up the duties of running the Sinclair estates. He did in fact wish that his father had ever seemed the least bit interested in having him do so. The one thing he appeared to expect from his son was an heir, and on that score he had been quite blunt. When last they’d spoken, the elder man had reiterated his desire for Ian to wed his cousin Barbara and get her with child. Ian had no intention of falling in with his father’s wishes. He was not in the least attracted to Barbara, and would not have married her if he was. He would not allow the older man to rule his life. As long as he was earl Malcolm Sinclair had the power to keep Ian from having any say in how the estates were run. But he could not control the way Ian lived his own life.

As he replied, Ian could not help the unrest in his tone. “I’m sure the duties your husband performs offer more satisfaction than you know, Victoria. Seeing your own ideas implemented, improving conditions for the people who depend upon you. Those things would be reward enough to content any self-respecting man.”

Having confided more of his unhappiness to Victoria than anyone else, Ian was not surprised when she laid a hand on his arm. “Ian, perhaps someday your father will allow you to take up your own rightful position as his heir. I know it is what you desire most.”

Though he had told Victoria of his troubles with his father, Ian found he was somewhat uncomfortable with her concern. He gave a falsely bright smile. “I doubt the old fellow has any plans to do anything of the kind, but I shall not be losing any sleep over the matter. As you know, I have my horses and will continue to find satisfaction in that, for it does not look like I will inherit for many years to come. Not that I wish the earl any ill fortune. In spite of everything, he is my father.”