Chapter Six

Sinclair House

Berkeley Square, Mayfair

The next day

S in awoke as the first rays of dawn were filtering through the curtains in his chamber, his mind still tangled in the remnants of restless dreams. Despite the night's fitful sleep, anticipation coursed through him like a wild river. Today, he and Wright had planned an early morning ride at Hampstead Heath, a haven amidst the hustle and bustle of London. It was a chance for Eclipse, his faithful steed, to stretch his powerful legs, a respite from the confinement of cramped city streets.

And it was a chance for him to think. Lord, he needed to think. Lizzie was in London, but it still felt as if he were dreaming.

As Sin got up, the world outside his window was still cloaked in shadows, the air charged with the promise of a new day. He could already feel the pulsing vitality of the city reverberating in his bones. With a sense of urgency, he dressed quickly, his movements fluid and purposeful.

Outside, Wright awaited him, the faint glow of dawn painting his features in shades of gray. A knowing smile played at the corners of his lips, a silent acknowledgment of their shared eagerness.

"I thought we might delay our departure until after breaking our fast," he remarked, his voice betraying a hint of weariness. "After all the merriment of last night, I find myself in need of sustenance before embarking on such an adventure."

Sin's gaze flickered to his mount. The magnificent beast pawed at the ground in restless anticipation. "Eclipse is raring to go. And I feel the need for the cold air on my face. But if you wish to eat, you are welcome to. I shan't be long."

Wright chuckled. "I am always raring to go, my friend. But I'm also always hungry. Let us ride first, and then our appetites will welcome a hearty breakfast even more."

Twenty minutes later they approached Hampstead Heath. Without traffic to dodge, the journey was quick and easy. "I'll race you to the end," Sin said, already nudging Eclipse forward. He heard Wright close on his heels. The smell of clean, calming rain from the night before permeated Sin's senses as their horses churned the damp earth beneath their hooves in their quest to reach the finish line.

For Sin, the heath held the promise of mental clarity—and he needed that today. He felt one with nature as he and Eclipse raced, the familiar course he and his friend had followed since their youth. Today, he needed to sort out his feelings and what it meant to see Lizzie again after so many months.

Their first meeting had been etched in his mind and heart. He had been close to death—the closest he had ever been. Not even in battle had he felt that close to the end. From the moment she opened the door to him, everything had changed.

The first part of his stay with her was too vague to recall, except for snatches of memory retained in between the fierce spikes of fever and what seemed like a sickness that had taken hold of his very soul. He would have died had it not been for Lizzie's care. They had begun a strange journey together as strangers, and yet in a short time had become as intimate as a long-married couple, considering what she had to do to care for him. Even though Dr. Hastings had visited daily, there were many times that she tended to his private needs as a wife would her husband. At first, he was too sick to feel ashamed of his vulnerability, but as he began to heal, he realized how remarkable Lizzie truly was. She never made him feel awkward, and she always had a ready smile. She would sit at his bedside for hours, reading to him, telling him humorous stories from her childhood, about her brother, and loving stories about her late parents.

He felt as though he'd come to know every part of her soul.

And in that short time, he fell in love with her.

And when I was well enough, I abandoned her.

How often had the memory of that last day gripped his heart? Seeing the pain in her eyes, the sadness that she had tried to hide behind a bright smile as she packed food for his journey in her small cottage kitchen. The guilt had almost been his undoing then. But how could he have done otherwise? He had traveled to America on a mission, one that he could not have abandoned.

How many times had he thought about taking her with him? An impossibility under the circumstances. Too dangerous.

How many times had he thought about turning back? Too many to count.

Sin shook his head as he heard the thundering hooves of Wright's horse gaining on him. As they approached the familiar bend in the road where a mighty oak tree stood, serving as their finish line, Wright pulled up alongside him and signaled for him to slow down. "My God, man. Were you trying to race against the devil?"

The two horses slowed to a trot. "More like an angel," Sin said.

"Ah, the beautiful Mrs. Pritchett," Wright said with a rueful grin.

His friend knew him so well. Theirs had always been the most remarkable of friendships—almost without speaking, they always knew what weighed heavily on each other's mind.

"I've been thinking about her for a year, seeing her image wherever I go, approaching strangers from behind, only to find they are not her," Sin said. "She's all I've thought about since returning from America. I had planned to search for her, beginning today, and …poof! There she was at the ball last night."

"You still haven't said much about her. But I know there's much more to this story than meets the eye. I can tell that your heart is engaged," Wright said, nudging his steed closer.

Sin nodded. "It is. I was there for two months, but during the first, I was barely coherent from the fever."

"Two months in the company of such a woman can form a strong bond."

"We were close—closer than I've ever been to any woman in my life. I should have taken her with me."

"Were there any words spoken between you?" Wright asked.

Sin shook his head. "No specific words. But I felt we had an understanding. Ah, but I hurt her when I left. I should have told her that I loved her."

"Love. That's quite an admission. But it's a year later. Do you still feel the same way?" Wright asked.

"I do," Sin said. "I should never have left her. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"But you went back for her."

Sin nodded and continued with his story. He explained that he'd promised Lizzie he would do everything in his power to return to Boston. "But when I finally did go back, it was too late." He wasn't entirely sure about the details, but Lizzie had told him she had run out of money and her only other recourse had been to accept charity from the community. "Unfortunately, she had been accepted by only a few people, and many were less than charitable to her. Eventually, she used the last of her funds to book passage to England, hoping to find her brother, whom she had not seen in years." But when she arrived, she found out that he had been given some sort of secret assignment, and the navy wouldn't provide her with any information.

"Does her husband have any family in England?" Wright asked.

"I'm not sure of their family surname—I only recall her brother's first name, Michael. I could ask Lizzie, but I must tread carefully. This is still so raw and new. I would not want her to feel that I was imposing on her life. I can certainly ask Armstrong and Celia, who I found out last night are good friends with him. My aunt also asked me to find Mrs. Pritchett's brother—before she became aware that we knew each other. I suppose that was a tremendous surprise for her. It certainly was a shock to me."

"I can't imagine finding out that the woman who had held your thoughts for more than a year was practically right under your nose as your aunt's companion." Wright shook his head. "Does Mrs. Pritchett know how you feel?"

"No. I've never told her."

"Come on, my friend. Let's head back. You need a strong cup of coffee and a big breakfast," Wright said.

"I do. Thank you for lending me your ear." Sin looked at his friend. "Your townhouse is still under renovation, isn't it?"

"Yes. And I tried to stay there, but it's blasted uncomfortable, so I'm staying in a hotel."

"Nonsense! Bring your things from the hotel. You'll stay at my home until your townhouse is finished."

Wright chuckled. "I thank you, my friend. I find I have a voracious appetite this morning. Let us hope your cook has stocked ample provisions."

Sin laughed. This had been exactly what he needed. And with a clear head, he could focus on Lizzie. He didn't know how she felt or whether she still held the same regard for him as he did for her. While he'd sensed her pleasure in seeing him again, was it just that, or was there more? Now that he'd seen her again, spoken to her, he would not let his good fortune pass him by. But he would have to proceed with care. Lizzie deserved to be courted.

*

25 Curzon Street, Mayfair

London

Later that morning

"Last night was certainly a surprise. I never imagined you knew my nephew," Lady Beadle said between bites of toast. She lowered her copy of the Ton Tattler .

Lizzie prepared herself to be peppered with questions. Looking across the table, she noticed Lady Beadle's ear trumpet resting beside her teacup and smiled fondly. The wily woman! Her hearing couldn't be as bad as she pretended. But it was impossible to know whether she could read lips, or whether the hearing loss was minor—not that it mattered. She found Lady Beadle endearing. Sneaky, but endearing.

"I was curious to see what was said about last night's ball. Here it is. Listen to this," Lady Beadle said, straightening the paper.

"The Ton Tattler is pleased to share that LLP attended the extremely successful Armstrong fundraiser last evening and was seen on the arm of LES. The children's charities sponsored by L/L Armstrong will flourish thanks to the generous donations by members of the ton, specifically LLP's…"

She tsked as she set the newspaper down on the table. "Typical," she said. "Many notable people attended, and almost everyone gave generously, but the Widow Louisa Parker's insatiable need to bask in the attention of others once again propelled her to take center stage. Of course, she would find an opportunity to connect her initials with those of my nephew—the only time her claws were on Sin's arm was when she was pawing at him to dance with her."

"Goodness. The woman sounds quite ruthless," Lizzie said.

"And she never danced with him, did she? As usual, there is nothing of note—which happens every time the empty-headed publisher of the Tattler chooses to use one of the Widow Parker's tiring cat-and-mouse dramatics ," Lady Beadle drawled, pursing her lips. "My nephew knows her, although I don't know if there is—or was—a relationship . Based on his efforts to avoid her, I will ignore her baseless intrigues. But I shall make sure he knows about it." She snorted. "Little do they know that they missed the biggest story. I planned to introduce you to my nephew at Celia's party, but it seems that took place without my help." She gave Lizzie a knowing look.

Lizzie gave her a nervous smile. She hoped to escape Lady Beadle's relentless thirst for details—specifically her meeting with Edward. "I confess I cannot imagine why the widow felt a need to attach herself to Lord Sinclair's initials, my lady."

She had not seen Edward in well over a year. Goodness, she'd arrived in London in July, having cried for what was lost the entire journey. So many hopes and dreams. First as a na?ve bride barely nineteen, and then a widow less than two years later.

Despite losing Peter, she had tried to make a home for herself in Boston. She'd spent most of her time volunteering at the hospital, for it was the only place where she'd felt useful, spending her days assisting wherever a helping hand was needed. It helped her cope with her grief. But when she returned to her little cottage at the end of the day, she would give in to her tears.

Edward's arrival on her doorstep had changed everything. But when he left, after his illness passed, she was alone once again.

It was only after she arrived back home in England that she decided she needed to reclaim her life. She would look for a position for herself somewhere, somehow, and finally let go of the grief and pain from her time in America.

She had been fortunate indeed that she had met such kind people as Lord and Lady Armstrong and Lady Beadle. She would always be grateful to her brother Michael for his sage advice. But now, her life was once again upended. And she no longer felt herself on firm ground. In the span of a few days, she had returned from a six-week trip to Bath with Lady Beadle and then been whisked off to the Armstrong ball, where she suddenly came face to face with Edward again.

To see him last night and find out that he was in London—and moreover, that he was the beloved nephew named Sin that Lady Beadle had often spoken of—was almost beyond Lizzie's imaginings. She had assumed Sin was his actual name, not a diminutive for Sinclair.

"What time did Sin say he would call today?" Lady Beadle asked, tugging Lizzie from her reverie.

Her face heated. She felt a little strange and a tad awkward about the upcoming outing. She was no debutante, nor was she a member of Lady Beadle's family. She did not want to overstep her employer's kindness. It seemed strange to allow Edward to call on her at her employer's home. Yet she had no other option, since it was her home as well.

"He said two o'clock." Lizzie took a sip of her tea to brace herself. "Lady Beadle, I hope my outing with Lord Sinclair does not interfere with anything you have planned."

"Poppycock!" Lady Beadle waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "I had nothing scheduled. And I will not have you fretting over this. I am tickled pink about it. And as I have said before, please call me Millie. It is my name, after all."

"Thank you, Millie." Lady Beadle was a dear heart, but Lizzie could not help but worry. People did talk. What if she and Edward were spotted on their outing by a ton gossip? She wished she could stop herself from worrying. She wished she could give a flying fig about what Society thought. But the past several years had taught her too many harsh lessons. She sighed as she refilled her teacup.

"Tell me about your volunteer service at that hospital in Boston," the dowager said, spreading blackberry preserves on a slice of toasted bread. "Did you encounter yellow fever a great deal?"

"Occasionally. People working in the ports were particularly susceptible, making it common, along with a few other illnesses."

"I've heard of it, of course. But the only thing I've ever known about it—besides it being a ghastly illness—is that it's very contagious. How did you avoid it?"

"I didn't, my lady—er, Millie. Shortly after Peter and I arrived, I fell ill. Initially, we were unsure of the cause, as I exhibited symptoms like fever and chills, which could have indicated various illnesses. However, Dr. Hastings, whom I assisted with my volunteer work at the hospital, speculated that not all patients react the same to the fever. He'd seen milder cases in some people, including myself. He said the case that I contracted perhaps served to protect me from falling ill again."

"So, you cared for Sin at the hospital," the dowager said with a shrewd look. "And you chanced to get the illness yourself. I am relieved that you had that protection for your own health, and I am grateful that you were able to help my nephew and many others no doubt."

"I too am thankful for that, Millie. I was fortunate indeed."

"My dear Lizzie, I am certain that you went through a great deal during your five years in America, and I can surmise your experiences were beyond challenging. The fact that I see a strong, intelligent woman of spirit and kindness sitting across from me makes me think that what you endured had nothing to do with fortune, but with fortitude."

Lizzie blinked back sudden tears. How she wished she could stop being such a watering pot. But when she'd looked into Edward's feverish face so many months ago, she knew would do everything she could to help him, consequences be damned.

"You possess a remarkably generous spirit, my dear. But I must say, not many women would have taken such a risk," the dowager said as though reading Lizzie's mind.

A knock sounded on the door as Jenkins entered. "My lady. Lady Armstrong is here to see you," he announced.

"Really?" She arched a brow. "It's not like Celia to visit this early. I assumed she would still be resting after last night's exertions. Please see her in."

"Hello, Lizzie. Aunt Millie, thank you for receiving me," Lady Armstrong said, pulling off her gloves and tucking them in her reticule as she entered. She glanced at the sideboard laden with steaming platters. "Oh! I know it's presumptuous of me, but I barely broke my fast with a cup of chocolate and a lemon biscuit—I was in such a hurry to get here. Oh, and you have bacon! My favorite."

"Child, please, take a plate, sit down, and eat whatever you like," her aunt said. "If you want chocolate, we can arrange that as well."

"I'd love more chocolate," Lady Armstrong enthused. "I usually have two cups."

"Say no more. I can't imagine you leaving your home without a proper breakfast, but we can't have you chocolate deprived. I make it a point never to neglect the needs of anyone under my roof." Lady Beadle chuckled good-naturedly and turned to a footman. "Reggie, be a dear and bring Lady Armstrong more chocolate. Bring a pot—I might have a cup myself. Mrs. Pritchett, would you care for some chocolate?"

"That would be lovely." Lizzie smiled. She'd missed making herself a cup, having overslept a tad that morning.

"Thank you, Aunt. You are most accommodating," Lady Armstrong said as she picked up a plate and helped herself to bacon, scrambled eggs, and two slices of toast from the sideboard. Then, smiling, she seated herself across from Lizzie.

Lizzie noted the speculative gleam in the Lady Beadle's eyes, a smile crinkling her lips as she silently regarded her niece tucking into the generous helpings heaped upon her plate.

Lady Beadle cleared her throat. "It was a lovely party last evening, my dear. Were you able to raise enough money for the children ?" With an arched brow, she watched her niece.

Lizzie suppressed a smile as understanding dawned on her.

"Oh, Auntie! We exceeded our goal," Lady Armstrong declared, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth. She chewed enthusiastically and then continued, "There were a couple of surprise donations from people I had not expected to be so generous. It would be gauche of me to comment further about that. But I was delighted with the outcome. The evening was a resounding success."

Reggie returned with the chocolate and filled a cup for each of them.

"There may be more than one success for you," Lady Beadle murmured, her lips beginning to twitch.

Lizzie coughed, hiding her chuckle, and picked up her cup to sip the creamy, delectable chocolate. She had missed the treat while she was in America. She'd had to make do with a tea she learned to brew from natural herbs and flowers that grew in the small garden behind her cottage.

"Well, I should hope we shall continue to have future fundraisers," Lady Armstrong said, scooping up a bite of fluffy eggs. "Simply delicious," she murmured. She didn't seem to have heard her aunt's comment, but her slender form indicated she was probably not usually the type to eat breakfast twice.

Lizzie wondered if the married woman was pretending to be unaware because she was not ready to divulge her good news, or if she'd simply missed the hidden meaning of her aunt's comments. Lady Beadle had sometimes lamented that her niece was so involved in so many charitable causes that she sometimes forgot to eat. And there was the possibility that she was just famished because she had not been able to relax and eat last night. Lady Armstrong had spent most of the night tending to the guests and donations. It had to have been nerve-racking. Now that Lizzie had established a routine with Lady Beadle, she would endeavor to speak with her about aiding Lady Armstrong with her causes.

"Now, what did you wish to discuss, Celia?" Lady Beadle prodded.

"Oh, goodness!" Lady Armstrong said, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. "These eggs are delicious. It tastes like they have cheese—we have never had cheese cooked into our scrambled eggs! Simply delicious. I will speak to our cook about that."

Her aunt eyed the plate with bacon and eggs, a smile flickering at the edge of her mouth as she sipped her chocolate. "You do that, dear. However, I know you didn't come here to discuss bacon and eggs—although you are correct, there is cheese in the eggs." A look of melancholy crossed her features. "My mother used to prepare them like that for me and Cook knows it's my favorite."

"Now that you say that, I recall always enjoying a hearty breakfast at your house, but I never realized the eggs had cheese. William is always telling me that my palate is a little sluggish." Lady Armstrong laughed. Taking a sip of her chocolate, she turned to Lizzie. "I came to apologize to you, Lizzie," she said. "I realized that I might have come across as too exuberant in my comments to Sin about his marital state, and I hope I was not presumptuous. I simply had to apologize.

"Sin and I tease each other. We always have. We were thrilled that Sin showed up last night, as he rarely does. He hates these types of events. But to promenade and waltz—well! The ladies were quite enthused—several hoped they could gain his attention. And then to find out that you and Sin had met in America, well, that was a tremendous turn of events. A most remarkable and welcome surprise. And I was so pleased to learn of it. But I was so excited about the donations that I ran to tell Sin—and I fear I drew attention to both of you and embarrassed you. And then I started blubbering on top of it. I don't know why, but lately, I've been so quick to tears." She shook her head. "I apologize if I made you unconformable. I promise I did not do it on purpose."

"I thank you for your apology, Lady Armstrong, but please allow me to allay your discomfiture," Lizzie said. "It was indeed a surprise to see Lord Sinclair again after so long, and under such different circumstances. Given our parting in America, I had resolved never to see him again. And I must admit, I was quite overcome." She had revealed a tad more than she normally would have, but she trusted both Lady Armstrong and Lady Beadle and was certain they were not the sort of women to spread gossip, as other ladies in the ton enjoyed doing. "But I was not upset with you, my lady," she continued. Lizzie couldn't be upset with Lady Armstrong for her exuberance. She was naturally an effervescent woman whose warmth embraced everyone around her. And if not for she and her husband, Lizzie would not have found a home and a position with Lady Beadle.

"Please, we are past formalities. Do call me Celia," Lady Armstrong insisted. "Your brother is very close to us. We are quite fond of Michael, and you feel like a long-lost sister to me. I hope I am not forward in saying that."

"Thank you, Celia." Lizzie smiled. "And yes, I also feel a closeness with you."

Lady Beadle interjected, clearing her throat. "Well, now that we have discussed how tasty eggs are with melted cheese, and have indulged our love of chocolate and exchanged heartfelt endearments, pray tell, my dear Celia, when are you due?"