The Sinners Club (3 page)

“I'm fairly certain my employer, the Honorable Mr. Lennox, would expect me to inquire further as to this unexpected situation.” He hesitated. “With all due respect, do you have copies of your marriage lines, my lady?”

Simon's expression darkened. “My sister doesn't have to prove anything to you! Ask anyone in the house! We have lived here for most of our lives, everyone knows us. You are the interloper here, sir, and don't you forget it.”

The countess touched his sleeve. “It's all right, love. The quicker we can convince Mr. Smith of the legality of our situation, the quicker he can leave and post back down to London to break the news to his employer.” She turned her charming smile on Jack. “Isn't that so, Mr. Smith? I'm sure you don't want to linger here if it is unnecessary.”

Jack bowed. “I do have other business in the area to transact, so I don't consider my journey here a waste whatever the outcome. If you furnish me with evidence of your marriage, I can certainly take the particulars back to London with me.”

“Then that is settled.” The countess rose from her seat and held out her hand. “Will you care to stay for dinner? We keep country hours.”

Hiding his surprise at this abrupt change of face, Jack nodded. “If that would not incommode you, my lady.” He glanced down at his buckskin breeches. “I am hardly dressed for it.”

She smiled. “We don't stand much on ceremony here. Before our repast, we might take advantage of the mildness of the weather, and enjoy a tour of the garden. You can then report back to your superior on the condition of the estate, and lay his fears for its survival at rest.” She stroked her belly. “After my son is born, I suppose it is possible that your Mr. Lennox might be named as a guardian for the child alongside my brother.”

“I would imagine that would be the case, my lady.” In fact, Jack was pretty damn sure the previous earl would've insisted. “One would assume that despite your no doubt inestimable care, the deceased earl would like to keep the family involved with the upbringing of his offspring.”

A look of slight revulsion marred the lady's perfect countenance, but it was quickly concealed by a bewitching smile. “My child will mean the world to me, I can assure you of that.”

Jack bowed, took the countess's proffered hand, and kissed it.

A slight blush touched her porcelain skin, and she sighed. “You are indeed a gentleman, sir.”

“The Honorable Mr. Lennox would employ nothing less, my lady.”

“If you would care for some refreshment, I'll ask my housekeeper to wait on you while I go upstairs and put my cloak and bonnet on.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Jack obediently sat down again and watched as the pair made their way out of the salon and closed the door. Had he fallen into a Drury Lane farce or the pages of a gothic novel? He couldn't help grinning as he considered the “countess's” beautiful face and figure. In truth, he hadn't been so entertained for years. If she were married to the old earl, he'd eat his hat. He sat back and contemplated the afternoon ahead with considerable enjoyment.

 

Mary Lennox shut the door into her bedchamber and leaned against it, one hand clasped to her bosom.

“Oh my goodness! Do you think he believed us?”

Simon started to pace the carpet, his expression aggrieved. “I don't care whether he believed us or not. As I said, he's the interloper here, not us!”

“He was younger than I anticipated.”

“Much younger.” Simon stopped moving. “He seemed rather taken with you.”

She shrugged. “I am remarkably good with men.”

His smile flashed out, transforming his face. “I know. Do you want me to accompany you on your walk?”

“No, I think I can handle him. I'd prefer it if you went into the earl's study and tried to find the necessary documentation to convince him to leave.”

“At least for a while.” His glance rested on her belly. “At some point that child will have to be born.”

“What if he won't leave? What if he wishes to stay until the succession is secured?”

“Then he stays, and we strive to convince him of our worth and bend him to our cause. Despite his gentlemanly appearance, he is still a paid employee and would probably be amenable to increasing his wealth.”

“Who wouldn't be?” Mary asked. “Do you think we can convince him?”

He swept her a magnificent bow. “Why not? Our future happiness depends on it. And who is more persuasive than we are when prepared to risk anything?”

Mary took a deep, steadying breath. “You are right, as usual.”

Simon walked toward her and planted a long, lingering kiss on her lips. “Of course I am. Now put on your prettiest bonnet and go and charm our guest into complete and willing submission.”

 

Mary waited until Mr. Smith spotted her in the doorway before coming forward to greet him. It gave her time to study his serious expression, wire-rimmed spectacles, and black hair dusted with gray just at the temples. She guessed him to be somewhere in his thirties. He was dressed in a sober manner that befitted his position without much claim to fashion, but with impeccable taste. Beneath his garments, he appeared to be of medium height and lean build.

“My lady.” He bowed.

“Mr. Smith.”

She curtsied. His manners were faultless, as was his attempt to hide his reaction to her beauty. She knew she was beautiful. It was something of a blessing and a curse in equal measures. But one had to use whatever weapons were available to get on in life, and she wouldn't shirk at using it now when her entire future was at stake.

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her toward the front door. She tugged his coat sleeve, and he paused to look down at her.

“My lady?”

“We'd do better to start around the back of the house. The front door is seldom used these days.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

She led him through the maze of corridors and, avoiding the kitchen, led him out through the scullery into the walled garden beyond.

“Ah, this must be original to the house?” He looked around the tranquil walled space with its long mellow Elizabethan bricks and faded yellow and black border tiles.

“I believe it is. Most of the fruit and vegetables grown here are used to feed the family. Any excess is sold for profit at the market.”

“You are obviously an efficient and economical housewife for the estate, my lady.”

Mary fought a wince followed swiftly by a tremor of anxiety. He didn't need to know the source of her expertise, although she suspected that if he stayed in the area for long, one of the embittered Lennox cousins would tell him.

“I like to oversee the accounts personally, Mr. Smith. It certainly encourages honesty and efficiency”

“My employer is the same, my lady. He expects me to keep an eye on his household accounts as well as his business affairs. Unfortunately, his wife is not quite as economical as you are. She has a tendency to overspend her allowance every quarter on frivolities.”

There was a note of censure in his voice, which bode well for their hopes of winning him to their side. It would gall anyone who had to earn an honest wage to see the way the rich wasted their money.

“That must put you in a difficult position.”

He sighed as they continued to walk along the graveled pathway that led through the gardens and out into the park beyond. “Indeed it does. I have no wish to speak ill of my mistress, but one does become tired of being screeched at because her husband refuses to pay her gambling debts.”

She patted his arm and waited as he closed the garden gate behind them. The sun came out and lengthened their shadows as they walked through an avenue of yew bushes.

“Do you have family in this area, Mr. Smith?”

“I'm not sure, my lady. I believe I might have some distant cousins here.” He hesitated. “I do remember one family, the Keyes. Do you know of them?”

“I can't say that I do, but I must confess that with Jasper being so unwell, our social life had dwindled to almost nothing.”

“Quite understandably. One of my tasks is to seek the Keyes family out, but it isn't urgent. My employer has some news for them on the matter of a missing inheritance.”

“How exciting. Please don't hesitate to ask any of our staff here if they know of their whereabouts.”

“Do you have relatives in the county, my lady?”

Mary kept smiling. “Not that I know of, Mr. Smith.” And none that she would acknowledge even if she did. She steered the conversation into less choppy waters. “Did you grow up in London yourself, then, sir?”

“No, in France.”

“That must have made it difficult for you during the last conflict.”

“Not particularly, my lady. My allegiances were always with my mother country, although I do speak excellent French, which is one of the reasons Mr. Lennox hired me to be his secretary.”

“I'm sure there were many reasons, Mr. Smith.” She squeezed his arm. “You strike me as an extremely able and intelligent man.”

“Thank you, my lady.” He patted her hand in an absent manner. “Is there a home farm?”

“There is.” She stopped to point out the stone walls and smoking chimney of the farm below. “It's down there and is run by Ben Fakenham and his family.”

“Do you currently have a land agent for the estate, or did the earl manage such things himself?”

“My brother, Simon, is his land manager. He has all the relevant papers in the estate office up at the house. I'm certain he would be delighted to share them with you.”

“Are you quite sure, my lady? He didn't seem very pleased to see me.”

She smiled up at him, aware, not for the first time, of the intelligence lurking in the bright blue eyes behind his spectacles. “He is rather protective of me. You cannot expect me to apologize for that. But once he sees that you mean me no harm, I'm sure he'll be happy to show you anything you want.”

“I am just doing my job, my lady.”

She reached up and patted him on the cheek. “I know, Mr. Smith, and I can see that you don't wish to hurt me at all.” She paused and slowly blinked at him. “You don't, do you?”

He met her gaze and then immediately looked away. “My lady...”

She stepped away, confident in what she'd seen in that fleeting moment, and continued to walk around the house. “The park is stocked with game for all tastes and seasons, and there is a trout stream down on the south boundary. If you wish to speak to the head gamekeeper, that can be arranged.”

“I doubt I'll have time for fishing, my lady.”

Ah, he was back to being stuffy again. “The house looks quite beautiful from this angle, doesn't it? You can see the bones of the original structure, the addition of the state wing, and the improvements my husband's father made.”

Mr. Smith paused beside her to look back at the house. “It is a remarkably appealing residence.”

“I confess to being very fond of it myself.” It was her home. Has he realized yet that she was prepared to fight to keep it with all the weapons at her disposal? “I'm glad you can appreciate it.”

He bowed. “Considering the circumstances, you have been more than helpful, ma'am.”

“Well, I understand how difficult this development might be for your employer, and I feel sorry that you are the one who must bring him such bad news.” She hesitated and touched his arm. “He won't dismiss you, will he?”

“I don't think so, my lady. He isn't a tyrant.”

“But his wife might use it as an excuse to be rid of you, might she not?” She attempted a laugh. “Oh, forgive me, Mr. Smith, this is hardly my business, is it?”

“Your concern does you credit, my lady.”

“Oh, thank you,” Mary sighed and batted her eyelashes at her companion. “I do so hate it when those who are born to privilege take advantage of those who serve them.”

He smiled down at her and she was fascinated by the changes it made to his rather stern face. Even as she recalculated his attractiveness, the smile was gone, replaced by a stiff formality that reminded her of the earl's ancient butler, who luckily had expired the same week as his master.

The sun went behind the clouds, and a breeze tainted with a hint of threatened rain stirred the ribbons of her bonnet.

“Oh dear,” she breathed. “We seem to have lost our good weather. Shall we return to the house?”

He offered her his arm again and she accepted, leaning rather more heavily on him than was necessary, but anxious to remind him of her interesting condition. He conversed happily enough with her about the estate as they walked back toward the house, betraying none of the earnest interest she had aroused in him earlier. But she was content. She had stirred the coals and was content to let him smolder. Gauging a man's interest in her was second nature, and he was interested, she was sure about that. Whether it was enough to draw him into a stronger alliance with her and Simon was another matter, but time would tell.

She smiled dazzlingly at him. “Let me tell you more about the original house.”

T
hey were very good, even Jack could admit that as he sat back to admire his host and hostess at dinner. Both of them had faultless manners, were amusing dinner companions, and obviously were devoted to each other. In some ways they reminded him of his relationship with his twin, Violet. The “dowager,” Mary Lennox, was also extremely beautiful and not averse to displaying her charms. She'd chosen to wear a thin silk dress in the palest gray that somehow managed to complement both her hair and her skin.

It was also exceedingly low-cut in the bodice, offering him a delightful view of her barely restrained breasts. At idle moments he found himself studying the perfection of her cleavage through the candlelight and imagining burying his face or his cock between those two plump mounds....

“Don't you agree, Mr. Smith?”

Jack tore his gaze away from Mary and studied her brother, who had apparently asked a question. Simon was being remarkably amenable this evening, and displayed a sharp wit Jack could only respond to. It was a shame that the best of tricksters were so entertaining. He almost regretted that at some point he would have to bring the charade to an end. Fortunately for them, he wasn't done enjoying himself yet.

“I apologize, Mr. Picoult, I was woolgathering. What did you ask me?”

“Which is rather appropriate as I was merely commenting on the number of sheep we are able to graze per acre here in the county of Lincoln, and wondering how that compared to your employer's estates.”

The countess rose to her feet with a chuckle. “If you are going to start discussing
sheep,
I shall leave you to your port and await you in the drawing room.”

Both men stood as the lady departed. Simon dismissed the lone footman, walked over to the sideboard, and picked up the heavy tray of crystal decanters.

“What's your pleasure, Mr. Smith? Some port, or would you prefer a whisky?”

“Port will be fine, sir.”

Simon placed the tray on the table and took the seat next to Jack.

“My sister says I should apologize for biting your head off when I first saw you.” He ruffled his auburn hair with a rueful smile. “I have something of a temper.”

“From what her ladyship told me, you are a very protective brother. I cannot find fault with that.”

“Do you have sisters, Mr. Smith?”

“I have a twin sister.”

“Then you understand my dilemma.” Simon grimaced. “Mary is very beautiful. Unfortunately some men have been known to lose their heads over her.”

“Even knowing she was married to the earl?”

“Even then, you'd be surprised at the stories I could tell you. Some of the Lennox family has been—”

“Yes?”

“Less than kind about my sister marrying a man old enough to be her father.” Simon raised his candid gaze to Jack's. “But she held the earl in great affection, I can swear to that. She was the one who nursed him through his darkest hours when all the rest of them ran away in fear of infection.”

Of course, a more cynical man might reply that any young woman who attracted an elderly earl's interest
would
hold him in affection. Jack didn't say it, because he was enjoying himself, and there was an uncomfortable element of truth to the man's words he found at odds with his first impressions.

“From all I have seen of the countess, she appears to have a good heart and a great sense of responsibility toward her family and the estate.”

“She has.” Simon poured them both a glass of port and held one out to Jack. “I'm glad you have the ability to see her true worth. She deserves to be admired and respected.”

“Indeed.”

Again that rang true. What had happened in the past to make the pair so supportive of each other? Again he was reminded of Violet. Or was it as simple as a beautiful woman needing her brother to protect her while she worked her charms on her elderly prospective bridegroom? Criminals often worked in pairs; one to draw the eye while the other committed the crime. He would do well to remember that as he dealt with his two adversaries. Things were rarely as simple as they seemed. He'd learned that to his cost many times.

“Are you anxious to go home, Mr. Smith?”

“Not particularly.”

“You have no womenfolk awaiting your return?”

“No. My sister was recently married, and my stepmother doesn't live with me. I inhabit a bachelors' quarters near my employer's house.”

In truth he didn't have a home at all. He'd never had a home. The house he currently lived in was borrowed from a family friend, and would have to be vacated in a matter of weeks. He wanted Pinchbeck Hall. Reminded of his resolution to oust the imposters, Jack considered Simon's choice of conversation anew.

“Excuse my interest, but you haven't chosen to marry?” Simon shoved his hand through his thick auburn hair. “My sister thinks that I should consider the advantages of the wedded state, but I find myself reluctant to commit myself.”

“To one woman?”

Simon's enchanting smile emerged. “To any woman.”

Jack held the man's gaze and considered all the very provocative replies he could make to that comment. In the end he merely smiled, and decided to turn the conversation into a safer channel. Had the siblings decided to see who could entice the staid Mr. Smith into bed first? It seemed highly likely. But if that were Simon's intention, he'd surely bring the matter up again.

“I've been meaning to ask you, Mr. Picoult, was the old earl buried in the parish church at St. Denys?”

“He was, Mr. Smith. Do you wish to visit his grave?”

“I will do so when I return to the Queen's Head. I believe the church is but a short walk from the inn.”

“It is.” Simon finished his port and seemed to hesitate. “Do you wish another glass, or would you prefer to join my sister in the drawing room?”

Jack smiled slowly at his host. He was experienced enough to know when another man was seeking his company and sometimes even why. “It is excellent port.”

An answering smile lit Simon's brown eyes. “The earl was something of a collector of fine spirits and wines. The cellars are a marvel.”

“Perhaps I should make time to investigate them before I leave Pinchbeck Hall.”

“I'm convinced you should.”

Jack finished off his port in one swallow while Simon regarded him intently.

“If you will permit.” He put down his glass, his gaze on Jack's mouth, and leaned in, swiping his thumb over his lip. “There's a drip.”

He withdrew his thumb and licked the gleaming ruby port into his mouth, running his tongue around the tip of his thumb in a slow circle.

Well, well, how interesting ... and how direct.
Jack's cock twitched as he raised his gaze from Simon's thumb to his face. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” Simon stood and brushed a far from innocent hand over the bulge in the front of his breeches. “Let me know if you find time to explore the cellars. They are well worth a visit.”

Jack stood, too, allowing his companion a comprehensive glance at his own state of semi-arousal. “I must confess that I always enjoy the opportunity to sample new and untried pleasures. Such ‘pleasures' and opportunities do not often cross my path.”

Simon opened the door. “Mine either. My horizons have become rather provincial since my sister married the earl.”

“Perhaps it is time for you to widen them again, Mr. Picoult.” Jack stopped right alongside Simon. “What a shame I'll be leaving fairly shortly.”

Simon reached out a leisurely hand and traced Jack's lower lip with his fingertip.

“More drips of port, Mr. Picoult?”

“No.”

His breath hitched as Jack deliberately flicked his tongue over the gliding, roughened tip.

“Damn, I wish you were staying.”

Jack leaned back against the door frame. “I don't think her ladyship would approve, do you?”

“She can be surprisingly accommodating.”

“Accommodating enough to allow me to stay here while I finish my business at the estate, and my other commissions from my master?”

“If you like, I could suggest the convenience of the arrangement to her.”

“And what will that cost me?”

Simon smiled. “A warm bed for the night?”

“But what about my room at the inn?”

“We can take care of that for you.”

Jack sighed and pushed away from the door, deliberately pressing himself for an instant against the now fully erect Simon before pulling away. He put on his most stuffy and disagreeable voice. “I still don't think her ladyship would agree, and in truth, I—”

“Come now, there is no need to fret. You haven't committed yourself to anything but a bed for the night, and the lack of a long, cold ride back to the inn in the rain.” Simon remained where he was, his breathing a little short, and his color high. Like any man who risked his life openly courting another, he had obviously learned to be wary. “It can't hurt for me to ask my sister about that.”

Jack kept walking until he reached the double doors of the drawing room and opened them. The Dowager Countess was sitting by the fire, embroidering what looked like a baby's cap. Her golden head was bent to her task, giving him a view of her exquisite profile and the long, swan-like curve of her neck.

“Mr. Smith.” She smiled up at Jack. “I was just wondering whether you meant to abandon me for the whole night.”

He bowed. “We would never dream of doing that, my lady.”

Even as he sat beside her and accepted the cup of tea she poured for him, he wondered if she knew about the sexual predilections of the brother who lounged at his ease opposite them. Because of the closeness between the siblings, he had to assume she did. Violet had certainly known that he would fuck anything. What would the countess feel if her brother took up with the new earl's supposed secretary? If he was correct, and they were both intent on seducing his support, would she consider it an advantage in the game they were playing? And what of the lures she had already cast out to him? Were the Picoults happy for either sibling to land the fish?

Jack sat back and sipped leisurely at his tea while the countess offered her brother a cup. What would she offer him next?

 

Simon winked at Mary as she passed him her tea and murmured, “He's not quite such a dry old stick after all.”

“Sshh.” She frowned at him, aware that Mr. Smith had an excellent sense of hearing and was sitting barely five foot away from them.

“In truth, I'd quite like a go at him.” He raised his voice. “But
of course,
our esteemed guest should stay the night, dear sister, what an excellent idea.” He looked over her shoulder at Mr. Smith. “I'm afraid it is too late to go over all the papers with you this evening. After all that port I'd probably not make much sense.”

“It is of no matter,” the secretary replied. “But do not feel as if you have to offer me hospitality. I do have a room ready for me at the inn.”

Mary turned and went toward him, her hands outstretched. She'd be damned if Simon would take all the credit for their change of heart.

“We would love you to stay with us, Mr. Smith. It won't take but a moment to prepare a bedroom for you, and send a note to the Queen's Head to tell them you will return on the morrow.

He frowned. “If you are quite sure, my lady.”

She took his hands in hers and squeezed them. “Absolutely, Mr. Smith. Jasper would never forgive me if I was less than hospitable to a man who represented another member of his family.”

“To be honest, it would certainly be pleasant not to have to ride back in the rain. I am rather tired.”

“I'm sure you are. After you have finished your tea, Simon can escort you up to your bedchamber and lend you any necessities for a peaceful night's sleep.”

“That is very kind of you both.” He bent awkwardly and kissed her hand. “You truly are a gracious lady.”

If only he knew.
Mary turned away but not before she'd caught Simon's triumphant wink. “If you would excuse me for a moment, Mr. Smith, I must consult with my housekeeper.”

She left the warm drawing room and made her way down to the servants' quarters. Simon caught her up on the backstairs.

“Nicely done, sister.”

“Why did you ask him to stay?” she demanded.

“Because I thought it was a good idea. Can't you tell the man is lonely?”

“For you?”

“Maybe, I'm not sure.”

“You'd bed him?”

Simon's expression sobered. “I'd bed the prime minister and the prince regent if it meant you and I survived. Mr. Smith is far more comely.”

“Do you think he is interested?” She pouted. “I thought he was rather taken with me.”

“I'm sure he is.” He kissed her on the nose. “Mayhap he went to Eton and, like most of the male upper classes, is quite used to fucking men as well.”

“Now you are making fun of me.”

“No.” He stepped away. “I've dealt with more than one titled lord who liked his own sex.”

There was a harshness in his voice that made her reach out to cup his cheek. “Those days are long behind us.”

“They are if we can continue this masquerade. If Mr. Smith wants a bit of rough, I'm quite willing to give it to him. And if he turns nasty on us, we'll have something to hold over him to ensure his future cooperation.”

He turned and went back up the stairs, leaving Mary staring after him. Was their unwelcome guest really attracted to Simon? If he were, she wouldn't begrudge either of them their sport. But she'd really believed he was ready to worship at her feet, not Simon's....