Closer To Sin (41 page)

She was going to die.

Desperation warred with rational thought. She had to warn Sin, had to tell him De Bois had found them. She despairingly searched for the words that would serve as a distraction.

‘I’m surprised to see you here, Lieutenant.’ Her voice shook so much she could barely get the words out. ‘That was you, in Kensington Gardens, the other day, was it not?’

He said nothing, just raised a sinister eyebrow. Liliane tried to still her trembling hands.

‘Sin has people looking out for you, watching you, following your every step. He’ll already know you are here—I expect he’s already on his way.’ She swallowed, willing her legs to hold and stepped away from the tree. ‘I’m going to walk away from you, go back to the house. If you leave now you can return to France, unharmed. I’ll tell Sin there was no one here.’

De Bois laughed derisively. ‘You’re such as self-righteous little bitch, so caught up in your own tragedy of a life that you wouldn’t think to credit me with the sense to stay one step ahead of the both of you.’

Liliane jolted at the ugliness of his words and then took another step forward. She shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Or perhaps, you’ve walked right into our trap.’

De Bois laughed and stepped closer. ‘Clever, but you’re out of time,
sweetheart
.’ He pressed the pistol against her sternum and prodded. Liliane let out a grunt of pain. ‘Don’t worry,
my petite
, you are not going to die so easily. I want your husband to find you yet. I may let you say one last goodbye to him before I shoot him.’

Liliane blanched at the thought of Sin walking into a trap that had been set with her as the bait. She darted a look about, searching for something, anything, to use as a weapon. There was nothing, other than her wit. She could only pray that De Bois had come unarmed.

‘You’re mistaken, Sin won’t come for me. But he will come for you. I’m his bride in name only. No one, other than you, knows we are even married. It was quite clever on my behalf, don’t you think?’

De Bois squinted and looked at her, considering. ‘Nothing you have done so far has struck me as being particularly clever,’ he countered.

Liliane lifted her chin and took a step forward. She dropped her lashes to look at him through coquettish eyes. ‘Ah, but there, you are wrong,
Monsieur
.’ She took another step towards him. ‘You see, without my intervention, you would never have known he was a British spy. Or,’ God help her, but she hoped she was right about this, ‘Or that he was about to expose the Cousins’ Legacy. Without my intervention, you would never have known about Michel Allard.’

De Bois took a step and closed the last of the space between them. He lifted the pistol and used it to caress the side of her face. ‘Now that’s all very interesting, and something I think we need to discuss a little more. But not here, somewhere a little more private is called for.’

Liliane’s courage all but deserted her as De Bois grabbed her by the back of the neck, spun her about and pushed her in the direction of the path that led around the lake.

***

Sinclair accepted the billiards cue from Cornelius with a rueful grimace.

‘You can break, although I was beginning to think I’d win by default,’ Cornelius ribbed him. Cornelius cast a knowing look towards Beechworth before turning to waggle his eyebrows at Sinclair. ‘So, what, or rather
who
, kept you?’

Sinclair lined the white up on the red and poised to take his shot. He cast a glance over his shoulder as both his cousin and brother-in-law looked at him expectantly. He sighed and stood upright. ‘The
who
was the good Lady Dennison.’ He held up his hand as Cornelius sought to voice his displeasure. ‘Before you start to lecture me, I told her in no uncertain terms that she should not expect an offer to be forthcoming from me now, or any time in the future. I invited her to pack her bags.’

Beechworth shook his head. ‘What prompted you to do that, Sin? You know it’s only going to stir up talk. And the way she’s been acting towards Liliane, she’s likely to go back to town and start to spread all manner of spiteful rumours.’

Sinclair leaned back over the billiards table and took his shot. ‘Blast it,’ he cursed as the red ball bounced off the corner and the white disappeared into the pocket. Standing, he raked a hand through his hair and turned to Beechworth. ‘The woman was acting like a marriage proposal was in the offering, to the point where she’d started planning the transformation of my drawing room into some red bordello. But the final straw was when she invited herself into my room last night and launched herself upon me.’

Cornelius sniggered. ‘I’ve never heard you complain about any woman launching themselves upon you before, Sin, let alone the abundantly endowed Lady Dennison. You know, you do have something of a well-deserved reputation.’

Sinclair inwardly cringed. It had been a long time since anyone had held him to account on his behaviour. If this was what his relatives were saying, heaven help him once Francesca had fired up the harpies.

‘A few actions don’t necessarily define the person, Cornelius,’ Sin submitted as a defence. At his cousin’s sceptical look, he elaborated. ‘Okay, I admit my behaviour has not always been the most circumspect, but it has been over six months since I have had any involvement with Francesca—or any other woman for that matter. Her behaviour is entirely intolerable because it is inspired purely out of a need to spite Liliane.’

Beechworth coughed, a flush staining his cheeks. ‘And how is it that Miss Desailly would be in a position to know that Lady Dennison was in your bed last night?’

He felt like a chastened school boy as he faced Cornelius and Beechworth. ‘Liliane had a private matter she wished to speak with me about and walked in as Francesca was…’ Sinclair gestured with his hands.

Cornelius and Beechworth exchanged a look. ‘You do realise Francesca will be hell bent on dissecting Liliane’s reputation and staking it out across the kingdom for all to prod,’ Cornelius challenged.

Sinclair cursed under his breath. Liliane wouldn’t be happy with him, but he needed to recruit allies, and fast. ‘Lady Dennison may not get the outcome that she is hoping to achieve.’

Beechworth raised an eyebrow, seeking elaboration. Sinclair coughed, his throat suddenly constricted against the admission he was about to make. He picked up the glass of whiskey sitting at his elbow and finished it in one long swallow.

‘Liliane is already, in both fact and deed, my wife, the Marchioness of Esselton.’

‘You can’t be serious—’ Beechworth exclaimed.

Cornelius paled, outrage written across his face. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Esselton? If you have ruined that young lady—’

Sinclair raked his hand through his hair and waited until the proclamations of disbelief abated. ‘Other than Martinbury and Lady Carrick, this is not something anyone else is aware of. We met earlier in the year and married in a small, quiet wedding.’ Very small and very quiet, Sinclair silently amended. But they didn’t need to know the details.

‘And you’ve withheld this information because?’ Cornelius finally queried.

Sinclair shrugged. ‘For all manner of reasons, but none that are relevant to this conversation.’ He felt the force of Beechworth’s glare boring down upon him and jumped in to stave off the reprimand that was surely about to be unfurled upon him. ‘No, Beechworth, my mother and sisters do not know. And no, I have no intention of telling them—yet. So I would appreciate if you refrained from imparting this news to my gossipy little sister for the time being.’

The mood in the room had chilled somewhat, Sinclair noted, as he took in the veiled expressions of two of his closest relatives. Luckily, he was their source of discontent, not Liliane. He looked to the door with some relief as his butler entered bearing a silver platter upon which sat two calling cards. Sinclair lifted the calling cards and gave them a cursory glance. ‘Where are they now?’

‘I’ve placed them in your study, my Lord,’ Thornton advised.

Sinclair nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Thanks, I’ll be there presently.’ He turned back to his companions. ‘We’ll resume this conversation at a later date, if you’ll excuse me.’ The look on their faces as he exited the room left him in no doubt they would hold him to that promise. Meanwhile, it would be no surprise if his ears began to burn.

Entering his study, Sinclair quietly closed and locked the door behind him. ‘I’m assuming we’ll be requiring complete privacy for this conversation?’

The gentleman by the window turned and nodded. ‘Quite so, Esselton. I hope you can excuse my intrusion, but when I met with Martinbury this morning we both felt it imperative that we apprise you of the latest developments. Immediately.’

Sinclair indicated for both gentlemen to be seated. ‘I thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to make the trip then, Sir Avery. Can I get you a refreshment? Tea, coffee, or perhaps you’d prefer something a little stronger?’ He turned to the room’s other occupant. ‘How about you, Nate?’

The request from both guests for whiskey alerted Sinclair that they were not necessarily here to impart good news. He handed the drinks out and took a seat on one of the winged leather chairs before the coffee table. He put his hand in his breast pocket and withdrew the letter Liliane had left with him earlier in the day.

‘I don’t know what news you have, but I think you need to see this. I was going to courier it to you this evening, but you’ve saved me the effort.’

Nate leaned forward and took the letter. After swiftly reading it he passed it to Sir Avery. ‘I’m really not sure what to make of this in light of our news.’ He looked to Sir Avery for confirmation before continuing. ‘The Watch pulled a body out of the Thames this morning—not Solange Beaumont,’ he hastened to clarify. ‘We have every reason to believe it’s the body of Henri Lyon.’

Nate hesitated, his face grave. ‘But this letter,’ he indicated the note Sir Avery was handing back to Sinclair, ‘deeply concerns me. We need to be prepared to accept that Mademoiselle Beaumont has also fallen subject to foul play.’

Shock forced Sinclair to sink back into his chair. This made less and less sense as the days progressed. Unless Liliane was right, and the Lyon and Allard families were indeed the custodians of the Cousin’s Legacy. But why would De Bois, assuming it was De Bois, murder both of them? Unless there was another source he was trying to protect. He shook his head in resignation.

‘We’re going to have to re-examine all of our assumptions, balanced against what we know to be fact. I’m no longer convinced Lyon was the ally I believed him to be. What I am confident of, though, is that this is the work of De Bois. But before we can come up with any answers, we need to determine why.’

They systematically revisited and debated each piece of information known to them, separating rumour from fact and cross-checking assumptions against confirmed intelligence. Sinclair stood up and stretched his back, noting as he did so that the shadows were slowly starting to lengthen in the afternoon sun. His stomach rumbled, reminding him they had missed luncheon. As he moved towards the bell to summons a platter they were disrupted by a knock at the door. Opening it, he was surprised as Yvette, distraught and breathless, raced in.

Nate turned towards the commotion and immediately stood. ‘Yvette, what’s happened?’

Yvette stopped short as she noticed Sir Avery stand. She looked uncertainly between Sinclair and Nate, hesitant to voice her concerns until Sinclair performed the introductions. Assured she could speak freely before Sir Avery, she sat upon the Chesterfield and wrung her hands together.

‘You probably think I’m being foolish, but—’ she paused, and stood again, as she felt the weight of all eyes upon her.

With agitation marking her every step, she paced to the window and gazed down the lawns before returning to stand behind the chair she had just vacated. ‘I have searched all of the reception rooms and the gardens where Liliane likes to sit or stroll, but I can’t find her anywhere. Indeed, I haven’t seen her since breakfast this morning, and she missed lunch. I was hoping, perhaps, you knew where she might be.’

Sinclair exchanged an uneasy look with Nate and Sir Avery. Nate stepped forward and lifted Yvette’s hands, drawing her attention to him. ‘I’m sure she simply felt the need for a bit of solitude. It wouldn’t be the first time. Now let’s sit down and make a list of all the places you checked. We can then get Thornton to have the staff do a more thorough search of the house.’

Sinclair nodded. ‘Martinbury’s right, Yvette. Meanwhile, I’ll get someone to check with the stables to see if she has taken a horse out, or perhaps gone riding with a party from the house.’

He opened the door and dispatched a footman to relay his instructions to Thornton. As he returned his attention to the discussion before him he was beset with a feeling of unease. Memories of this morning’s conversation with Liliane came flooding back. Surely she wouldn’t have been so foolish as to have decided to return to London on her own. To not wait until the morning, when she could be escorted back and her safety assured.

A knock at the door alerted Sin to Thornton’s presence. ‘My Lord, I sent a messenger to the stables. A party of house guests set out for the village about an hour ago, but Miss Desailly was not among them, nor has she taken a horse out earlier today, or returned to town by carriage.’

‘Thank you, Thornton. Report back to me once the house has been thoroughly searched, and make enquiries with the gardener to ascertain that she is not somewhere in the grounds.’ Sinclair closed the door and turned to find Sir Avery studying him intently.

‘You seem to be quite concerned that Miss Desailly may have done something rash. Is there anything in particular that’s provoked this conviction?’

Sinclair grimaced. Obviously it was to be a day of confessions. He looked to see that Nate was also waiting for his reply. ‘Liliane and I had something of a disagreement and she advised me she would be returning to London tomorrow morning. Given the nature of our disagreement, I thought perhaps she may have decided to take matters into her own hands and return earlier.’