Chapter Five

L izzie stared into the indigo eyes of the man she had dreamed about—the man whose memories had robbed her of a peaceful sleep night after night for the past year. He had been handsome even in his raggedy beard and gaunt state from the ravages of his illness…but now, he resembled a handsome knight from legends of yore. His heavy beard was gone, and his dark hair was neatly trimmed, albeit a trifle longer than was the current fashion for men, something she rather liked. But he was no longer frail or thin from the illness. He was healthy, strong, broad-shouldered…

She opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment, her voice failed her and her legs felt like they would collapse beneath her. When she faltered and feared she would fall to the floor, he reached for her hand and kissed it. His strength steadied her.

With a mixture of astonishment and disbelief, she whispered, "Edw—Mr. Sinclair, you are here? You…you are Lady Beadle's nephew?" She glanced at the dowager viscountess and noticed the older woman was watching their exchange with keen interest—as if solving an elaborate riddle.

After a long moment, Lady Beadle spoke. "Are you two already acquainted?"

Lizzie glanced at her and back at Edward. And then it dawned on her. Of course! Sin is short for Sinclair—how did I not know that? I never even gave it a thought.

Lady Beadle had mentioned her nephew Sin many times, but Lizzie had never made the connection. And now she recalled that Lady Armstrong had also referred to her brother by the name of Sin. Trying to find her equilibrium, Lizzie replied to Lady Beadle's question. "Yes… we are," she began slowly. "He… We…" She couldn't finish the sentence. She couldn't divulge how she knew Edward Sinclair. To admit she had taken him into her home and nursed him back to health—a woman living alone—could have disastrous consequences within Society for both her and Lady Beadle.

"Mrs. Pritchett." Edward took a step closer as if sensing her uncertainty. "It's a pleasure to see you again." He smiled and then turned to his aunt. "I met Mrs. Pritchett in Boston while searching for Lord Romney."

"I'll have my ear trumpet," Lady Beadle said, breaking the tension. She extended her hand and accepted the hearing aid from Armstrong. "I can't hear a darn thing. But Lizzie, how did you meet my nephew, and how am I just learning of this now?"

Lizzie exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "We met in Boston," she said, realizing Edward had already stated that fact.

Lady Beadle arched a brow. Lizzie could read the impatience flickering in her eyes.

"Er…yes. Mrs. Pritchett volunteered at a hospital where I was a patient," Edward explained, saving her once again. "At the time, I had fallen ill, you see, and the prognosis was grim."

"Oh dear! I had no idea," his aunt said on a gasp.

"What happened to you, man?" Lord Armstrong asked.

Lizzie had forgotten Sin's brother-in-law had been standing there as well.

"I had yellow jack ," Sin replied. "A wretched illness, although I try not to dwell on it. Despite that, Mrs. Pritchett's persistence in my care likely saved my life. She knew me as Edward Sinclair, not the nickname I go by."

"That is correct," Lizzie said. "I had no idea that Edward Sinclair and Sin were the same." She still couldn't quite fathom it.

Lady Beadle paled visibly and reached for Lizzie's hand. "I owe you a debt of gratitude, my dear, for saving my nephew's life."

"You do not owe me anything, my lady," Lizzie said to the older woman, who was clearly distraught. "I just did what I could to render assistance."

"This is a remarkable coincidence," Lord Armstrong remarked. "I'm afraid we would never have put this together either."

"Indeed," Lady Beadle agreed.

Feeling Edward's eyes on her, Lizzie turned and beheld him once more.

"Forgive me for staring, Mrs. Pritchett," he said in that deep, rich voice that had been imprinted in her mind. "I must say that seeing you again has me at sixes and sevens. Would you agree to a turn around the room? I'd like to hear more about your voyage across the Atlantic." He turned to his aunt. "But only if you are amenable, Aunt Millie."

Across the room, the orchestra had begun playing a few notes.

"Hmm… I see the orchestra is returning from their short break." Lady Beadle glanced at Lizzie, her eyes gleaming with that shrewdness Lizzie had come to know so well. "Lizzie has refused to dance thus far this evening, despite my badgering. Perhaps she will agree to dance with you, nephew."

Lizzie felt her face heat. "Lady Beadle, I haven't danced in an age. I'm afraid I couldn't—"

"Pish! You are selling yourself short, my dear. Dancing is a skill that one never loses. Besides, you have but to follow the man's lead. And I know for a fact that Sin is a very fine dancer." Lady Beadle waved her hand and smiled broadly. "Besides, it would do my heart good to see that lovely pink ball gown swishing its way around the room."

Edward held out his arm to Lizzie as the orchestra began to play the first strains of a waltz. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Pritchett?" he asked.

There was so much Lizzie wanted to say. She hadn't danced since her wedding, and she feared making a fool of herself. Everyone was already looking in their direction. But she wanted to be near him, hear his voice—that melodic baritone. Perhaps that was what was so difficult. She'd always feared that she would never be so fortunate as to meet another good man, like her late husband Peter. And then Edward had quite literally stumbled into her life. Just when she had begun to believe in the possibility of happiness again, he had left almost as suddenly as he'd arrived. And now, a year later, just as she had begun to put her life back together, here he was again. But oh, how tempting it was to just give in and let this strange twist of fate take its course.

"Yes…Lord Sinclair," she replied.

The warmth of his touch tingled up Lizzie's arm, and she felt a swirl of emotions. As they took their places on the dance floor, Edward placed his hand on the small of her back. "Follow my lead," he whispered in her ear. "You will do splendidly, I promise."

"I hope you're right," Lizzie whispered back.

And then she was surprised once again. Or rather, Edward surprised her once again. They fairly glided across the dance floor. With each turn, he pulled her closer. And she couldn't help but inhale the clean, masculine scent of leather, sandalwood, and citrus—a scent she recalled so vividly. "You dance well," she said.

"I thank you for the compliment," he replied, leaning down and speaking close enough that his breath tickled her ears. "But it is your gracefulness that is shining through."

"Thank you." She felt her face heat at his words and fought an impulse to lean into Edward—still unable to believe he was here with her. Despite the pleasure of dancing with him, she had so many questions and so much to say, she scarcely knew where to begin. "I waited for you," she suddenly blurted. "I waited as long as I could, but eventually, I'd exhausted my funds. When I had little more than enough left for a ship's passage—"

"Please, no explanation is needed," he said. "I know how difficult it must have been for you." His low voice sounded raspy to her ears. "But I want you to know, I did return for you, and finally found someone willing to tell me that you had set sail for England. Although I was saddened—and, I must admit, frustrated with myself—for not getting there sooner, I was also relieved to hear that you had returned home. America is a dangerous place for a woman alone. You were very brave, Liz—Mrs. Pritchett."

"Th-thank you," she said, stumbling over her words. "And please call me Lizzie."

"Lizzie," he said, his voice sounding like a caress to her ears. "My friends and family call me Sin, as you are welcome to."

"Thank you, Sin." She gave him a tentative smile. "I am humbled and yet gladdened that you thought so highly of me that you returned to Boston." Her heart soared that he had gone back for her. If only she had been able to stay… Would their lives have been on a different path today?

"Not even the devil himself would have kept me from returning."

She glanced up into his striking blue eyes and immediately felt the heat of another blush suffuse her cheeks. She dared not close her eyes or risk his disappearing the same way he had seemed to appear. And yet her gaze slid away, as a sudden shyness overcame her at the intensity in his regard. Those blue eyes—how unforgettable they were—made a heady awareness course through her veins.

Seeing him now, it was as though that feverish man, so ill, so near to death, had been someone else. Lizzie dared to look up at him once more and was struck anew by how different his appearance was, how broad his shoulders were, how muscular his arms beneath her fingers…and yet how warm and familiar his voice was.

They continued their dance in companionable silence, enveloped by the splendor of the elegant and glittering ballroom. Moonlight cascaded through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting delicate shadows that danced upon the gleaming wooden floor. The air fairly vibrated with lilting notes from the orchestra, blending with the buzz of countless conversations, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. Candlelight flickered from massive chandeliers, casting them in a warm, golden glow as Edward guided her across the room with effortless grace, adding to the enchantment of the evening.

In the gentle sway of their movements, a silent conversation unfolded between them, speaking volumes in a shared language of lingering glances and light touches. With each step, each turn, their connection deepened, drawing them closer together amidst the whirl of the other dancing couples. It was as if the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them suspended in this timeless moment of rediscovery.

"There have been so many times when I thought I saw you through a shop window or alighting from a carriage," he said, breaking the silence. "Once I thought I even spotted you in Paris… I, uh, rushed up to a woman who resembled you from the back only to discover it wasn't you." His lips curved up in a crooked smile. "It happened more times than I can count."

"I must confess that I thought I glimpsed you many times as well," Lizzie said, unable to keep her voice from trembling. "Even so, I never expected to cross paths with you again."

Edward looked at her, his expression softening. "Nor did I, Lizzie. At least not by chance. But it seems fate had other ideas."

She gave a shaky smile. "I would agree."

"Unfortunately, a ballroom is no place for a private conversation. Would you allow me to take you for a drive tomorrow afternoon?"

Lizzie nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but Edward was right—his sister's ball was not the place. "I'd like that very much." The tingling warmth continued to spread through her from knowing that he had journeyed back to Boston to find her. Oh, how she wished once again that she'd had the fortitude and the funds to be able to wait for him, but there had been so much uncertainty in her life back then. So much fear. And yes, she had also worried that fate may have had a hand in keeping him from coming back as he had promised. Traveling in the American wilderness, one never knew what dangers lurked about. Despite having so many questions and uncertainties fluttering through her mind, Lizzie felt a familiar sense of comfort in his presence.

As the final strains of the waltz played, Edward escorted her back to where his aunt awaited them. Lizzie stole another glance at his blue eyes and found them upon her, looking at her with that same intensity as before.

"I will call on you at two o'clock," he said, his voice low.

She smiled, feeling a lightness of spirit she had not felt in a very long time. "I'm looking forward to it." To spend time alone with Edward would be an unexpected gift she had only dared dream of. Not only did she want to know about his experiences in his search for his friend, but she was also anxious to ask Edward if he had crossed paths with her brother and where he might be stationed.

As he returned her to his aunt's side, Lizzie released her hold on his arm. She saw Edward's sister, Lady Celia Armstrong, approaching them. "Sweet brother! It's good to see you out and about. I noticed you dancing with Mrs. Pritchett and thought I was seeing things!" She looked at Lizzie. "It is well known that my brother rarely promenades around the room or dances—but tonight he's done both!" she teased. "I wasn't the only person to notice—you have set the marriage-minded mamas' tongues to wagging. So many have asked if I would introduce my brother to them, and they have been very generous in their donations. Please don't misunderstand my motives, Mrs. Pritchett—I am merely teasing my brother."

"Harassing me, is more like it," Edward muttered, but his eyes held a smile for his sister.

"You are trading introductions for donations?" Wright asked, stepping closer. "May I be of assistance?"

"I suppose it appears that way—because I haven't turned anyone down. But I assure you, Sin, I would never use you," Lady Armstrong said smugly.

"Bravo, my dear!" Lady Beadle said enthusiastically. "I thoroughly approve."

"Mrs. Pritchett, please allow me to introduce one of my best friends, Viscount Asher Wright," Edward said. "We have been friends for more years than I can count. Wright, this is Mrs. Lizzie Pritchett, a friend from my travels in America."

"Mrs. Pritchett, it is an honor to meet you," Wright said, lightly kissing the back of her hand. He turned to Edward. "Well done, my friend. I see why you dusted off your dancing shoes."

Lizzie found herself laughing along with everyone else. Wright was unabashed in his efforts to meet eligible young ladies.

"Mrs. Pritchett, I must apologize to you. I'm afraid I've been thoughtless. An unmarried man's movements are carefully observed by the ton ," Edward said, turning to her. "Mrs. Pritchett, I'm afraid my actions may cause you some minor notoriety in the gossip rags."

"Please, do not think of it," Lizzie murmured, although her stomach was in knots. "I'm sure it will be forgotten by tomorrow." Noticing the keen look on Lady Beadle's face, she knew there would be more questions about her time in Boston. She would have to prepare herself.

"My goodness! I just realized that the two of you are behaving as if you have known each other before. Did I miss something?" Lady Armstrong looked from Edward to Lizzie before glancing at her husband for an explanation.

Lady Beadle piped up, "It seems my companion and your brother met across the pond. And now they have reconnected—seeing each other for the first time a year later—at your party."

"How remarkable! I've heard of such stories but have never witnessed such a fortuitous reunion. I observed you two dancing and was struck by how intently you were gazing at each other," Lady Armstrong said sweetly.

Lizzie wanted to wish herself anywhere but there, except then, she might never have crossed paths with Edward. She glanced at Lady Beadle, catching the impish glint in her eyes. If there were ever a time she needed her gumption, it was now. Straightening her shoulders, Lizzie explained, "It is most fortuitous, Lady Armstrong. I met your brother when he was delirious with fever, and under the circumstances, I had no idea that the Mr. Sinclair I helped through an illness was your brother. I was only aware that you and Lord Armstrong were friends of my brother Michael."

"It is indeed a small world. My God, we owe you a debt of gratitude." Lady Armstrong wrapped her arms around Lizzie and hugged her closely.

Lizzie felt her face heat. She was unused to such attention, particularly in the middle of a ballroom.

"Sin never sent word," Lady Armstrong said, her eyes swimming with tears. "So, until he returned, we had no idea how close we had come to losing him." She turned to her brother and embraced him as well. "Promise you will never put us through that again."

"I promise," Edward said, his eyes meeting Lizzie's over his sister's head.

"There is so much more to this that I want to know," she said. Her voice sounded wobbly, and her eyes brimmed with tears again. Her husband stepped forward and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Come, darling—let us step away for a few moments of privacy." He nodded at Edward. "If you'll excuse us, we won't be long."

"Yes, of course, I must look a blubbering mess," Lady Armstrong said. "I do want to hear everything about Sin and Mrs. Pritchett, but I should get back to the guests as well. I still have more funds to raise."

"She'll be right as rain soon enough," Lady Beadle told Edward. "Your sister has always been emotional from childhood. But she married a good man who adores her. As it should be."

Lizzie watched as Lord Armstrong escorted his wife from the ballroom. It was true—the young couple was deeply in love, something to be cherished for its rarity. She felt a pang of guilt that she had inadvertently been the cause of the young woman's distress.

"Do not fret, Mrs. Pritchett," Edward said softly, stepping closer to her. "My sister has a soft heart, but a strong spirit. Much like you do."

"I thank you, my lord," Lizzie whispered, still quite flustered by his nearness. She chanced another peek at his deep blue eyes and felt his warm regard like a soothing balm. She felt almost mesmerized, as she did when he was twirling her around the dance floor, and forgot what she'd wanted to say.

"My dear, I just had the oddest conversation with Lady Pemberly," Lady Beadle said, her voice nudging Lizzie from the magical glow she felt when she looked into Edward's eyes. "I am quite concerned, Lizzie," she continued. "Lady Pemberly told me that Baron Percival Blackwood practically accosted you earlier."

Lizzie frowned in confusion, trying to recall Lord Blackwood.

"You do not know his name, I warrant," Lady Beadle said, jutting her head in the direction of a man who was speaking to a voluptuous, red-headed older woman in a scandalous crimson gown. Lizzie had been introduced to the woman, a widow by the name of Lady Parker. "Lord Blackwood is that tall man dressed in black with long, unkempt black hair and odious, beady, little black eyes."

"Oh, yes, I did encounter him at the refreshment table," Lizzie said, recognizing the man. He'd stood so close to her that she had to take several steps back, feeling most uncomfortable in his presence. "I was thirsty for another glass of lemonade, and he attempted to engage me in conversation."

"I would not describe it as such," Lady Beadle said. "Gladys said he was practically ogling you. Oh, what a loathsome man!"

"Yes, that is Blackwood," Edward said, an edge to his voice. "I am sorry that you had to go through that, Mrs. Pritchett. Allow me to have a few words with him."

"No, please, Edward," Lizzie said, laying her hand on his arm. "I mean, Lord Sinclair, forgive me." She quickly withdrew her hand. "I—It was of no consequence, really. I do not want to make a scene."

"Fiddle-faddle," the dowager viscountess declared with a shake of her head. "From what I understand, the blackguard practically stepped on the hem of your gown, to make you trip so that he could paw at you. That man is a bad one, my dear."

"May I ask what happened?" Edward asked.

"When I stepped away from the table with my lemonade, he seemed to appear out of nowhere and bumped into me, and some of it splashed on his coat," Lizzie replied. "I apologized, and he immediately began to pepper me with questions—asking me my name, when I had arrived in town, and who I knew. I found his questions most intrusive, and I attempted to evade answering him directly. When I tried to excuse myself, he laid his hand on my arm and quite bluntly stated that he wished to call on me tomorrow."

She could feel her face flush as she described the encounter. She could not help but notice the muscle working in Edward's jaw, nor the flash of anger in his eyes. The last thing Lizzie wanted was for Edward to call out the horrid man and risk his reputation.

"Please, it was nothing," she said, hoping she sounded convincing. "I told him I did not think his questions were the least bit appropriate, then I sidestepped him and quickly walked away."

"I will instruct Jenkins to turn the blackguard away should he dare darken our doorstep!" Lady Beadle proclaimed.

"I promise, I did not wait for his response," Lizzie said. "I pushed past him and made my way back to Lady Beadle. Besides, I am here as her companion, not as her guest."

"I rather think my aunt would beg to differ with you," Edward said, his lips curving up into a crooked smile.

"I certainly do!" Lady Beadle bristled. "You are here as a guest of mine, and you are a lady. And should consider yourself accordingly for any future events we attend. The man's lack of manners alarms me greatly."

"I am in full agreement there," Edward said. "Lizzie, if he bothers you again, promise you will tell me. The man has an unsavory reputation, and, I confess, it's a surprise to see him here." He sighed. "My sister has evidently invited any and all possible donors to this fundraising event for the children's hospital and orphanage."

"Judging from what Lady Armstrong said earlier, I believe she has been successful in her efforts," Lizzie said.

"That well may be, but I still don't like to see men like Blackwood accosting young women, no matter what his donation is."

"Hear, hear!" Lady Beadle said. "I might have a word with Celia about this."

"Good idea," Edward said, bestowing a smile on his aunt. Then he turned to Lizzie, his voice soft and husky as he added, "I still plan to call on you tomorrow—unless you've changed your mind."

"Of course, I haven't. I'm looking forward to it." And she was.

"Excellent. I will be there at two o'clock."

She gave a slight nod. "I will see you then."