Susan Krinard - Lord of Sin

It must be soon. The next time she met him, she would make everything clear. Then, if he chose to continue to hate her, she would understand.

LADY CHARLES .

Sinjin bit down with such force that his cigar nearly snapped in two. Lady Charles Parkhill .

“Good God, Donnington,” Lord Peter Breakspear said, blowing out a long stream of smoke from his own cigar. “One would think you had just learned that Poole had gone out of business.”

Sinjin turned to look at his friend, letting his mouth ease into a cynical smile. “I’ve no fear of that,” he said. “My patronage alone would keep them solvent for another century.”

“Ah,” Lord Peter said, nodding sagely. “Then it must be a woman.”

A sharp and entirely unjustified retort came to Sinjin’s lips. He bit it back. “I never have trouble with women.”

“Did I say anything about trouble?”

Breakspear arched his brows. Sinjin ignored him, walked to the sideboard and stubbed out his cigar, glancing around the drawing room. Six of the Forties were present at this meeting in Sinjin’s town house: Breakspear, a gentleman in his midthirties who held a strong attraction for the ladies; Melbyrne; Harrison, Lord Waybury, a staunch Tory of traditional convictions; Mr.Achilles Nash, the most cynical of the group, ever ready with a quip; Sir Harry Ferrer, portly and often ill-tempered; and Ivar, Lord Reddick, as much a devoted Liberal as Waybury was a Conservative.

Nash was regarding his glass of brandy with his usual bored expression; Ferrer was already drunk. Reddick was intently conversing with Waybury on the subject of politics and Melbyrne was in a corner, his face suspiciously blank. Watching everything with a curious eye, Erskine, who had refused full membership in the club but was welcome nonetheless, remained in the background as he always did.

“I say,” Waybury said, stabbing the air with his cigar, “you’re wrong, Reddick. Salibury is doing an excellent job with his Irish programme.”

“It isn’t the same as Home Rule,” Reddick insisted. “When Gladstone returns—”

“He’ll never be reappointed,” Waybury said with some heat.

“What is your opinion, Donnington?” Reddick asked, strolling across the room to join him and Breakspear.

“I doubt he’s ever bothered to consider the issue,” Waybury said. “He may occasionally join us in the Lords, but his interest in politics is minimal at best.”

Sinjin turned his smile on Waybury. “I happen to support Gladstone’s policies,” he said. “I believe he will eventually be vindicated.”

Waybury waved his hand in disgust. “The Liberal Party will do this country in.”

“I doubt it matters who holds the reins,” Nash said from across the room. “What do you think, Erskine?”

Leo folded his arms across his chest. “I prefer to remain neutral.”

“As neutral as you are on the subject of marriage?” Breakspear asked.

“I am not eager to tie myself down, as Donning-ton will attest,” Erskine said mildly. “I simply have no objection to a man marrying before he reaches middle age.”

“Perhaps Erskine is less stuffy than he appears,” Nash said with a cynical smile. “After all, it is not as if marriage need hamper one’s appreciation of other women.”

“ Some of us prefer fidelity after marriage,” Way-bury said.

Breakspear laughed. “And before. You’ve been pretty faithful to your current doxy. Do you think you’ll avoid temptation once you’ve found yourself a worthy wife?”

“I should think it depends on the wife,” Erskine said before Waybury could reply. He poured himself a glass of water from a crystal decanter on the sideboard. “With the right woman—”

“There is no female in the world who can tie me to her apron strings,” Sinjin snapped, remembering Erskine’s mocking wager at the Academy.

The other men exchanged glances. “What is it, Sin?” Nash asked.

“I asked him the same thing,” Breakspear said. “Woman trouble.”

Ears pricked and nostrils flared as the pack closed in. Reddick chuckled. “Has Adele demanded a few too many fripperies this month?” he asked Sinjin. “Has she found a more generous patron? If not, I shall be more than happy to take her off your hands.”

“Adele,” Sinjin said between his teeth, “is free to make her own decisions. I suggest we change the subject.”

“But why are we here if not to talk of women?” Nash asked. “If it’s not Adele, who is it?”

Leo set down his empty glass. “Have any of you been introduced to Lady Charles Parkhill?”

“Erskine…” Sinjin growled.

“We saw her at the Academy,” Leo continued. “Sin quite admired her.”

“Ah, yes,” Breakspear said. “She has only just come to London this Season. Never been before, I hear. Parkhill hid her away on his estate.” He shook his head. “At least the unfortunate man had a fair companion to comfort him in his final hours.”

“Is it true that she is a country curate’s daughter?” Waybury asked. “Poor Lord Charles wouldn’t have had many opportunities to meet potential wives, especially the sort who’d be content to give him constant nursing. Do you suppose he hoped to obtain an heir before he—”

“Enough about Parkhill,” Sinjin said. “Let the man rest in peace.”

“I wonder if his little widow is resting peacefully,” Nash said. “If she had so little enjoyment of her marriage, she might be—”

“Enough.” Sinjin felt the irrational desire to plant his fist in Nash’s face. He must be going insane.

And all because of her .

“I see that we have struck a nerve,” Breakspear said in a loud whisper.

Sinjin poured himself a brandy, splashing the liquor over the sides of the glass. “Melbyrne!”

The boy looked up, his eyes dazed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you going to sit in that corner all evening?”

Felix got up hastily, smoothed his coat and joined the others. “I’m sorry. Were we discussing Salisbury? I think—”

Breakspear laughed. “The subject is the ladies,” he said, “and Sin’s nasty mood.” He peered into Melbyrne’s eyes. “I say, what’s going on in that head of yours, boy? Have you finally been stricken by some pretty face?”

“I was never convinced that the initiation took with our junior member,” Nash said. “Perhaps we ought to repeat the exercise.”

Felix drew himself up. “I may be young,” he said, “but I am not a fool.”

“Perhaps you’ve also admired Lady Charles?”

The boy flushed. Sinjin downed the brandy in one swallow. He knew exactly what Felix had been thinking while he’d been sitting alone, looking like nothing less than an habitué of an opium den.

Lady Orwell. When they’d met Lady Oxenham and her friends in Hyde Park, Melbyrne had sat on his horse with his mouth agape, as tongue-tied as a girl at her first dance. He hadn’t listened to the advice Sinjin had given him at the Academy; to the contrary, his introduction to the lady in question had obviously increased his admiration.

“It is not Lady Charles,” Melbyrne said with a false air of indifference.

“Out with it, boy,” Nash said. “We have sworn to be brothers and keep no secrets amongst us.”

Melbyrne looked at Sinjin and dropped his gaze. “Mrs. Tissier!” he blurted.

Everyone laughed. “Was that your idea, Sinjin?” Nash asked.

“Why should it be?” Sinjin said, his equanimity restored. “As Melbyrne said, he’s no fool.”

“She’s already agreed, then?” said Breakspear. “It’s all arranged?”

“She’ll take you on a long, sweet ride…won’t she, Sin?” Nash said.

“One might ask you the same question,” retorted Waybury.