The Sinners Club (6 page)

“It is customary for a dowager to move into a smaller property on the estate.” Jack studied Simon's averted face. “With all due respect, Mr. Picoult, I don't quite understand your concern for your sister's welfare. Whatever happens, she will not be left destitute.”

Simon turned, walked back over to Jack, and perched on the edge of the desk.

“You consider me too apprehensive?”

“I must confess that I do.”

He sighed. “To be perfectly frank, Mr. Smith, the Lennox family hates my sister and wants her gone. I fear they will do anything to dispute the marriage and the earl's last will, leaving my sister with nothing.”

“It is often the case that a new young wife puts a cat among the pigeons as the saying goes, disrupting certainties and changing the dynastic implications of inheritance. But from what I can see, the marriage was legal.” Jack hesitated. “Unless there is something more to this?”

“No, the marriage is legal. But as it was carried out in secret, there are those who might choose to contest it out of spite, malice, and greed.”

“I see what you mean.” Jack contemplated his companion. “Surely it would be in your sister's best interests to get this document safely to the Lennox solicitors so that if such claims do arise, they will be able to refute them for her in their professional capacity?”

“That's exactly what I said to the old earl.” Simon grimaced. “But I think he liked the idea of his relatives finding out everything was legal and above-board after he'd died, when there was nothing they could do about it.”

“Except take the dowager and the estate to court.”

“He didn't think they would do that to the fine name of Lennox.”

“Then he obviously doesn't understand the nature of greed.”

“I agree.”

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. “I can take the will and the original marriage lines back with me to London when I leave here,” Jack offered.

“Why not the copies?”

“Because the solicitors will prefer the originals.”

“Are you hoping they'll be fakes? What if your employer decides that is the case, takes Mary to court, and we lose everything ?”

“My employer would never do that, Mr. Picoult. I swear it. Even if any irregularities were discovered, he would never leave one of his family destitute. Your sister would always be provided for and treated with the utmost respect.”

“And what of the child?”

“What of him?”

“If it's a boy, why shouldn't he be entitled to his inheritance? It's not just about dispossessing Mary, is it? What about her son?”

“You sound rather agitated, Mr. Picoult. Has anyone suggested that the child shouldn't inherit even if he is a male?”

“There are always those who gossip, Mr. Smith, and when the gossip comes from the earl's own family, there are many who choose to listen to it, and believe it.”

Was there already chatter as to the child's father?
Jack eyed Simon speculatively.

“Which is surely another reason to get the Lennox solicitors on your side. With them fully aware of the facts and in possession of the late earl's will, they will stand behind you, especially if the countess gives birth to a male heir.”

Simon sighed and stretched out his legs. “I suppose you are right, although the thought of relinquishing my hold on all the proof that we have is downright terrifying.”

“I can understand that. Perhaps you might consider traveling down with me to London so that you could keep hold of the documents and deliver them to Mr. McEwan yourself?”

“I can't leave Mary in her condition.” Simon shook his head. “She needs me.”

Jack held Simon's gaze. “As I said, I would be more than willing to take the documents for you.”

“I know that.”

“But you don't feel that you can trust me yet?”

Simon's smile was wry. “I don't trust anyone.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I've been betrayed by those who should've had my best interests at heart before.”

“In what way?”

Simon stood up and walked toward the door. “In ways that need not concern you, Mr. Smith. Let's just say that I've learned my lessons well and I won't allow myself to be taken in again.” He hesitated, his hand on the latch. “Do you wish to speak to my sister again?”

“Not at this point. But I would appreciate some more time to go through these documents.”

“Be my guest.” Simon bowed. “I'll return after I've visited the home farm to see how you are getting along.”

“Thank you.”

Jack waited until he heard Simon's footsteps fade away and then got up and helped himself to a large glass of brandy. Damnation! If Mary Lennox did have a son, Jack's title hopes would instantly disappear. Considering how recently he'd found out about his heritage, he was surprised by how much that idea depressed him. He'd never known his father came from aristocratic stock. They'd traveled together through France, using their wits, his father's luck with cards, and their more secret spying activities to finance their erratic lifestyle. He'd often been in danger, not known where his next meal would be coming from, or had to worry that his father wouldn't return.

It wasn't until after his father's death, when he'd been sent to his French grandmother's house, that he'd even remembered he had a twin sister and a family. Those things had become infinitely precious to him in the last chaotic years of the war. Facing death at the hands of Mr. Brown had concentrated his thoughts wonderfully. He'd never understood his sister's need for security until then and now he craved it.

With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the documents in front of him and painstakingly started to read.

 

“Well?”

Simon closed the door into the drawing room and leaned against it.

“He's reading through them again.”

Mary stood and started pacing the room, her black lace handkerchief twisted in her fingers.

“He's not convinced they are legal, is he?”

“That's not the impression he gave me.” Simon took a seat by the fire and stretched out his booted feet to the blaze. “In fact, he seemed most sympathetic to our plight and willing to help in any way he could.”

“Any way?” Mary stopped in front of him. “Do you think he'll support us against his own employer? Are you mad? Did one night in his bed curdle your brain?”

“Mary, he is a very thorough and upright man. He might not be corruptible, but having met us, I doubt he'll readily accept any lies the rest of the Lennox clan tell him.”

“I'll believe that when I see it.”

He reached out and tugged at her skirt. “Would I lie to you about something so important?”

“No.” She looked away. “I'm just so worried. Why did the earl have to die so quickly after our marriage?”

“You're forgetting that he only agreed to marry you because he knew he was dying. If he'd remained hale and hearty, we'd both be out on our ears already, George Mainwaring would've seen to that.”

She shivered. “I hate that man. He has cold, clammy hands and they inadvertently land on me in the most inappropriate of places.”

“That's because he thinks you're a whore.”

“I am.”

He stared at her. “No more than me, love. We've done what we've had to do to survive. I'm not ashamed of myself, are you?”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “What do you think Mr. Smith will do next?”

“I should imagine he'll want to speak to the vicar, and the rest of the Lennox family.”

“Should we let him?”

“Why not? It's not as though we can stop him anyway. I've already warned him that our reception in the family has been frosty at best.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Continue to charm him. It can't hurt.”

“While you continue to bed him.”

He headed for the door. “You can always join us if you like.” He winked at her. “I know you've always liked a three- some.”

“But I'm pregnant.”

“Which means he won't expect anything from you that you're not willing to give.” He blew her a kiss. “Think on it. I've got to go down to the home farm and find out the whereabouts of the Keyes family for our guest.”

“Then I'd better go and see how he is.”

“That's my girl.”

Mary waited until he'd left before leaving the drawing room and heading down to the study. She'd always hated the earl's study. Being sent to see him always meant she was in trouble or that Simon was. He'd always made her witness her brother's punishments, sometimes made Simon take hers too... not that he had minded. Ever since they met, Simon had been willing to do anything for her.

She knocked politely on the door and went in. Mr. Smith was still sitting at the desk, his gaze lowered as he focused a magnifying glass on the text of the will.

“Have you found anything incriminating yet?”

Her words came out more sharply than she had anticipated and his head shot up. He rose hurriedly to his feet and bowed.

“My lady, I didn't hear you come in.”

“I did knock.”

“I was somewhat engrossed.”

“Naturally.” She took a seat in front of him and waited until he sank back down into his chair.

He took off his spectacles and stared down at them. “I perceive that I owe you an apology.”

“Why ever would you think that?”

His smile was devastating and without his spectacles his eyes gleamed like sapphires.

“Your arctic tone?”

“You will have to forgive me. This whole situation is incredibly difficult for us.”

“Your brother said that the rest of the Lennox family don't like you.”

“He's correct.”

“Why is that?”

“Because in their opinion no aristocrat should stoop to marry a women he has already bought and paid for.”

“One might say that every woman is bought and paid for regardless of her social class. We touched on that subject yesterday, did we not?” He replaced his spectacles. “Not that I would blame any woman for attempting to make the best of her opportunities.”

“Most men of your class would.”

“My class? My dear countess, I work for my living. I'm no idle aristocrat.”

“Yet you were born into relative prosperity.”

“I was born in France. My parents made a runaway match of it.”

“Apparently, my parents forgot to attend to the social niceties like marriage.”

“Ah.”

“What does that mean?”

He smiled again. “Luckily for my mother, she managed to get her marriage lines drawn up before his family found out. Is that why you consented to marry the old earl? Did you not wish your own child to suffer a similar fate?”

“I didn't say I'd suffered, sir.”

He shrugged. “The stigma of being a bastard never quite goes away, does it?”

She stared at him for a long moment as she strove to get her feelings under control. He was far cleverer than she'd anticipated.

“I'm not here to discuss my past, Mr. Smith. I only came to see if there was anything I could assist you with in your further inquiries.”

“That's very gracious of you, my lady. Would you happen to know if Mr. George Mainwaring is in residence at this time of the year?”

“I believe he is.”

“Then I will send a note requesting an audience with him.”

“He'll be delighted to see you.”

He sat back in the chair and regarded her. “You don't like him?”

“He makes my skin crawl.”

“Then I won't invite him to meet me here, then.”

“I wouldn't let him over my threshold, nor would he come.” She gathered her skirts in one hand and stood up. “Simon has gone down to the home farm. He will be back for dinner. If you wish to send a note to George, may I suggest you leave it on the small table in the hallway and one of the grooms will take it round for you.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

She smiled. “You are more than welcome, Mr. Smith.” She had reached the door before he spoke again.

“If you were the product of a misalliance, my lady, was Simon one too?”

“I hardly think that is any of your business.” She froze with her hand on the latch.

“You are quite correct, my lady. I apologize again.”

She said nothing more and escaped through the door to the sanctity of her bedchamber. Perhaps Simon was right and she did need to further embroil Mr. Smith in their toils.

J
ack finished writing his note to George Mainwaring and after a glance at the clock, decided to take it down to the kitchen himself and renew his acquaintance with the dour Mrs. Lowden. He suspected she had quite a few opinions about the old earl and the Picoults, and since she'd also witnessed the late earl's will, she might be willing to give him her views on that matter too.

Note in hand, he went down the backstairs and by dint of following the smell of roasting beef, found the kitchen. The cook was busy shouting at various members of the staff and stood at the stove with her back turned to the door. Mrs. Lowden sat at the table, counting silverware and writing in what appeared to be the household accounts book.

Jack approached the table and smiled down at the housekeeper.

“My apologies for disturbing your work, but I wanted to have this note delivered and wasn't quite sure whom to entrust it to.”

She patted the bench next to her and Jack obediently sat down.

“It's for Mr. George Mainwaring. Do you think one of the grooms could take it over for me?”

She took the letter. “You're not as daft as you look, are you, Mr. Smith? If you'd given this to her ladyship it would've ended up in the fire.”

“I gather there is some friction between the two branches of the family.”

“Friction? That's a mighty fine word for it. I've never seen such a lot of whining and wailing ninnies as if it was the second coming of the Lord.”

“I suppose it is always difficult when a man marries late in life.”

“Practically on his deathbed, methinks.” She glanced up at Jack. “I've known that girl for years, and I never thought he'd marry her.”

“She has lived here that long?”

“Aye, she and Simon came together. The earl came home with them one day and told me to make up rooms for them and to treat them like family.” She sniffed. “Two more frightened children I'd never seen, but they soon got over that, forgot where they'd come from, and started treating this place like home.”

“And where exactly did they come from?”

He was rewarded by a sharp look.

“What's that got to do with you?”

Jack smiled engagingly. “You're right, I'm being terribly nosy. It's just such an unusual story, isn't it?”

“I suppose so,” Mrs. Lowden said. She wrote something in the book and moved on to counting the soup spoons.

“Do you like Mr. Mainwaring?”

“Not that it's my place to say so, sir, but no, I don't. He's much too free with his hands, that one. It upsets my staff.”

“I'm sure it would.” He paused. “Is that why you signed the earl's will, to keep him out of Pinchbeck Hall and safeguard it for the countess and her brother?”

She stood up. “It's what one might call the lesser of two evils, now, isn't it, Mr. Smith? Now, I'm sure you need to get ready for dinner and I must get on.”

“Of course, Mrs. Lowden. Thank you for your help.”

Jack bowed and headed out of the crowded, steamy kitchen with much to think about. The housekeeper was as sharp as a pin and thankfully not averse to speaking her mind. Playing the part of a secretary meant he was able to move between the world of the aristocracy and the hoi polloi with much greater ease. He was also accepted more readily by both sides and could play the common man or the bored peer as necessary to gain a confidence.

Of course, Mrs. Lowden had somewhat of a sour disposition and saw fault in everyone. He paused at his bedchamber door. Where had the earl found Simon and Mary? If he knew that, he might be able to find out exactly who they were. And he wanted to unravel that mystery. If the Picoults had arrived at Pinchbeck Hall as children, they were unlikely to be common tricksters as he had originally thought. But what were they? Genuine souls in danger of being dispossessed, or persuaders of old men to do stupid things? He still couldn't decide.

With a sigh of frustration he went into his bedchamber to find that his bags had arrived from the inn as promised. Someone had pressed his other coat and hung his shirt and spare cravats in the cavernous walnut clothes press. Even if the water in the jug was cold, it was a relief to be able to change out of his well-worn clothes and have a thorough wash.

As he pinned his new cravat in place, the clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour and he headed back down for dinner. Would Simon expect his company again, or should he pretend to be tired and retire early? He'd enjoyed the man rather more than he'd anticipated. He went down the stairs and saw one of the footmen opening the door into the dining room, his hands full of covered silver platters. His stomach growled in anticipation. Why shouldn't a man feed all his appetites? Surely even a harried secretary like Mr. Smith deserved to be satisfied every once in a while?

He turned left to the drawing room, where he could already hear voices, and smiled. Tomorrow he'd have to face the vicar and Mr. Mainwaring. If Mr. Picoult desired his company tonight, he certainly wasn't going to say no.

 

“More brandy, Mr. Smith?”

Jack pretended to yawn and stretched out his legs. “No thank you. I think I'll retire for the night.”

“It's all this fresh Lincolnshire air.”

“And the exercise.” He smiled directly into Simon's eyes. “Not that I didn't enjoy every last delightful moment of it.”

His companion licked his lips. “If you should wake during the night and desire some company, I do keep very late hours. You'll probably find me awake and eager to assist you in any endeavor you might have.”

“I'll bear it in mind.” Jack rose and bowed. “I'll just take my leave of your sister and then I'll head upstairs.”

“Good night, Mr. Smith.”

“Good night.”

Jack made his bow to the countess and then went to his room and slowly undressed, anticipation already streaming through him, evident in the blunt thrust of his cock. He slowly ran a hand up and down his shaft and shuddered as he imagined Simon's mouth and hands on him. Without a stitch of clothing on, he unlocked the door between his and Simon's rooms and went through. There was no one there yet, so he took a moment to examine the somewhat Spartan surroundings. There were no family portraits, or obvious keepsakes, but then he hadn't really expected to find any. He suspected that, like him, Simon was not a man who gave up his secrets easily.

He crossed over to the bed, which was the twin of his, and drew back the covers. Under one of the pillows he discovered a small leather-bound book and settled back against the pillows to examine it. The first page was inscribed.

“To S from J.” Jack murmured. “I wonder who J was?”

The book was a series of erotic images from the Orient of men and women in erotic sexual positions of all kinds. Jack smiled and settled in to flick through the pages, one hand wrapped around his cock as he appreciated the finer details of the etchings.

A slight sound made him look up to see Simon at the side of the bed.

“Mr. Picoult. What an interesting book.”

Simon's gaze flicked down to Jack's now erect cock. “You seem to be enjoying it, sir.”

“Who wouldn't?” He turned the book toward Simon. “Which is your favorite illustration?”

“This one.”

Jack studied the picture. “A man on his knees sucking another man's shaft, another behind him fucking his arse, and a woman beneath him taking his cock in her cunt. That's your favorite?”

“If I was the man in the middle.”

“Being used in every way a man can?”

Simon's hand trembled on the book. “Yes.”

Jack sighed. “I only wish there were three of me. I was rather hoping I'd be the one being fucked tonight, but I'm quite willing to change my mind.”

“Why are you in my bed?” Simon asked.

Jack opened his eyes wide. “Didn't I just tell you? Didn't you offer me your companionship earlier, or was I simply mistaken?”

“Oh no, you weren't wrong. I want you.” Simon matched his words by bending his head and licking the wet crown of Jack's cock. “I want to suck this and then I want to fuck you.”

“Oh good,” Jack breathed. “I do so hate it when I'm de trop.”

Simon's chuckle reverberated around Jack's shaft as he drew it deep into his mouth. With a sigh, Jack slid a hand into Simon's hair and let himself be sucked dry.

A little while later, they'd both shed their clothes and Jack was on his knees, grasping one of the bedposts as Simon moved behind him, his oiled cock pressing and sliding between Jack's buttocks as he nibbled and licked at his throat and ear.

“Fuck me, then.”

“As you said, Mr. Smith, patience is a virtue. I need to get more oil.” His weight shifted on the mattress behind Jack. “Don't move.”

Jack had no intention of going anywhere while the pleasurable sensations of being about to be fucked flooded through him, and he wanted it, now, wanted it hard and deep.

“Come on.”

“Oh, don't worry, Mr. Smith. I'll make you come and then I'll lick you clean.”

Simon's hand came to rest on Jack's hip and then slid around to grip his shaft. “You're nice and big for me.”

“Naturally.” His breath hitched as Simon slid one finger deep in his arse. “Ah, that's good. Give me more.”

Simon obliged and soon Jack felt the head of his companion's broad cock pressing hard against his arsehole and arched his hips.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, Mr. Smith?”

“If you please.”

Simon gave a satisfied grunt as he pushed deeper. “Better?”

“More.”

“As you wish.” Simon eased back and then shoved his entire length inside in one strong thrust.

“God.” Jack breathed hard through his nose as he fought to accommodate so much cock. “You're big.”

“Just how you like it, yes?”

“I always enjoy a challenge.”

Simon bit his shoulder and then seemed to freeze. The fragrance of lavender teased Jack's nostrils and he opened his eyes to see the Dowager Countess pressed against the door, one hand covering her mouth as she stared at them.

“Mary?” Simon croaked.

The countess slowly lowered her hand. She was dressed in a soft muslin nightgown and wrapped in a shawl that fell almost to the ground.

“The door wasn't locked. I didn't realize you were”—Her throat worked
convulsively—“busy.
”

“I forgot to lock it when I came in, Mr. Smith was already in my bed naked.”

Her gaze swept over Jack, who was still on his knees, his shaft grasped in Simon's hand and his arse full of Simon's cock, a position that his lover seemed unwilling to relinquish.

“That might make you forget anything.”

Jack finally managed to speak. “You have caught me at a disadvantage, my lady.”

“Oh, not at all. Simon had already told me about last night.” She came closer and his cock twitched within her sibling's hard grasp. “Don't let me stop you.”

She sat on a chair at the foot of the bed a mere foot from Jack and looked up expectantly.

“You're not shocked, my lady?”

She shrugged and the shoulder of her gown fell away to reveal the rounded swell of her breast. This close, he could see the dark circle of her tight nipple through the thin muslin.

“Everyone has their needs, Mr. Smith. Unfortunately, since I am now a widow, I have to live vicariously through my brother.” She leaned forward. “I want to see Simon fuck you. I want to see you come.”

Inside him Simon's cock seemed to grow even bigger and Jack rocked back into the rigid hardness, tightening his muscles until his partner groaned along with him.

“Then watch, love.” Simon started to move, his hips pistoning into Jack's, his hand tight on his cock controlling him as surely as a bridled horse. Jack tried not to close his eyes as he watched the countess, the way her hand crept inside her bodice to fondle her own nipple. He wanted that in his mouth, sucking it hard; he wanted his shaft in her cunt, making her climax along with them.

“Do you want his cock, Mary?” Jack tried to jerk his head back to look at Simon, but the angle was too acute. Simon drew Jack's length away from his belly. “Do you want her to suck you, Jack?”

“God, yes.”

“He likes a woman's touch. He'd love your mouth on him.”

She angled her head to one side. “Would you enjoy that, Mr. Smith?”

“Only if you wish it, my lady.”

She rose and crossed the small space between them, her lips pursed as she studied the thick, pulsing length of his cock. Letting her shawl drop to the ground, she leaned forward and licked very delicately at the pre-cum on his crown and then wiggled her tongue into his slit making him yelp with the pleasure of it.

Simon's hand tightened around the base of his shaft.

“Not yet, Mr. Smith. You bide still until Mary's had her fun with you. She doesn't get the chance to lick a real live cock very often. We can wait.”

He watched in helpless fascination as she continued to flick and lick her way over and under his straining cock. She sucked his crown into her mouth and played with it, making him yearn to push his hips back and thrust deep, but Simon wouldn't allow it. Jack was held captive between his strong body and the delicately probing tongue of the countess. Not that he minded; he could take such exquisite torture forever.

She drew back and cupped her breasts, allowing his now dripping shaft to tunnel between them. Every time she pushed him up between her breasts, she licked him and he started to groan and strain against the pleasure, aware of Simon starting to rock into him, of both of them losing their fragile control.