She yanked herself free of him, reminding herself she must think of Alfred. “What is your proof?”
“My mistress,” he replied easily. “I was with her the night your brother and my wife died.”
His mistress.
Of course he had a mistress. She ought not to be surprised by his admission. He had legions of them. That was what all the rumors suggested, was it not? That was the reason he was known as Sin—his love of debauchery and the pleasures of the flesh.
But somehow, the notion of the Earl of Sinclair having a mistress made her feel strangely perturbed.
“Why did you not say anything in your defense, if that were true?” she asked him.
“My mistress was a married lady, and she had no wish to be drawn into my scandals lest there be repercussions with her husband,” he told her calmly. “I respect her enough not to involve her purely for my own gain.”
She searched his expression for any indication he was lying. But he met her gaze as boldly as ever, his regard unrelenting. Several things occurred to her simultaneously: firstly, that she had never even considered he may have been elsewhere that awful night, that someone else could vouch for him. She had never supposed he was innocent. She had always believed him hopelessly, irrevocably guilty.
Furthermore, he had said his mistress was a married lady. Did that mean his mistress was no longer married? Or that she was no longer his mistress? Also, why should she care?
She told herself she should not. That he was sinful and amoral. That she loathed him.
“What is the matter, princess?” he taunted. “Does the realization that I could not have committed murder disappoint you?”
“I would have to trust your word,” she countered, trying to scramble from his lap.
He caught her waist, holding her still. “You would also have to admit that your campaign of vengeance was all for naught. That you ruined an innocent man for no reason at all.”
She did not want to think about that. “Release me.”
“Make me,” he challenged.
How could she? He was stronger than she was. She had been fighting him for the past day and losing at every turn. Even now, she was still losing. And she would continue to lose. She was going to have to marry him, this man she loathed.
What if her reason for loathing him was all wrong?
What ifshehad been all wrong?
“You know I cannot make you,” she admitted at last, defeat tasting bitter on her tongue. “You have won, my lord. I have agreed to marry you for my brother’s sake. What more do you want from me?”
His smile returned. “Your surrender, princess.”
“You cannot have that.”
He lifted her effortlessly to the opposite squab. “We shall see about that, Lady Calliope. We shall see.”
Sin was notabout to take any chances that his future wife would attempt to break her promise to marry him, which was why he had accompanied her into the vast mausoleum that was Westmorland House, despite all her protestations to the contrary. The house was every bit as imposing as he recalled, a rambling Mayfair palace and a testament to the vast Manning family wealth.
The butler had been obviously relieved to see Lady Calliope returning safely.
Her aunt had been most distressed with her failure to return the day before, the servant had announced, casting a disapproving glare in Sin’s direction. For Sin’s part, he was not certain he cared for the tender manner in which the domestic had fretted over his future wife.
“Callie darling!” exclaimed the aunt now, sweeping into the lesser salon where the butler had shepherded Sin and Lady Calliope.
Westmorland was, conveniently, on his honeymoon with his new wife. Which meant that the woman with the French accent, dressed in a billowing silk dressing gown, had been tasked with acting the part of duenna.
A task which she had failed at.
The aunt smelled of violet perfume and powder. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, unbound. It was rather familiar and odd. In all his life, the only women who had ever greeted him clad in their dressing gowns had been those he had taken to bed.
“TanteFanchette!” Lady Calliope threw herself into the elder woman’s arms, quite as if she were being rescued from the gaping maws of a fire-breathing dragon. “You have arrived after all!”
