Jo’s brother, the Earl of Ravenscroft, had been a notorious rogue prior to his love match. But she was correct. The Earl of Sinclair’s reputation was decidedly worse than Ravenscroft’s had once been. No small feat, that.
Thanks, in part, to Callie’s efforts.
She sighed heavily. “He discovered I am the author of the memoirs.”
“What?” Jo frowned. “That is impossible. You went to such great lengths with the publisher to make certain you retained your anonymity.”
Yes, she had. But it had all proven to be for naught.
“Mr. White’s son divulged my identity to Sinclair,” Callie admitted, stalking to the opposite end of the grand library where a wall of books was interrupted by a massive fireplace.
She was in such dudgeon, she had been pacing the Axminster. It was a miracle she had not already worn a hole in it.
Jo followed her, her shocked gasp echoing in the cavernous chamber. “How dare he?”
She spun about to face her friend. “Apparently, Sinclair threatened to persuade him with his fists or otherwise frightened him.”
“He is a dangerous man,” Jo said grimly. “You cannot bind yourself to such a scoundrel. I refuse to allow you to do it, Callie.”
“I am afraid I have little choice.” Quickly, she relayed her tale of what had happened to her from the moment Sinclair had spirited her from London to their abrupt return. “So you see? If he reveals I am the author ofConfessions, I am afraid my scandal will taint Benny and Isabella. I love them both too much to be the cause of any suffering. To say nothing of the Lady’s Suffrage Society. I had not even thought of that. Oh, Jo. Everything we have been working toward shall be irreparably damaged unless I do as he has demanded and marry him.”
Jo placed a staying hand on her forearm when Callie would have once more stalked to the opposite end of the library. “Have you not thought of contacting your brother? Surely Westmorland would want to return from his honeymoon to help you. He would not stand for this bullying from the earl.”
Callie shook her head. “I cannot bear to reel him into this, Jo. He will be stubborn, I know he will. After everything he and Isabella have endured, they deserve their happiness more than anyone. He nearly died saving her. No, I cannot do that to either of them. I have created this monstrous mess, and I alone can remove myself from it.”
“What does your aunt make of all this?” Jo asked next.
“Aunt Fanchette believes it is all wildly romantic.” She heaved another sigh. “I cannot afford for her to think anything is amiss, for fear she will contact Benny herself. I am afraid I have no choice but to marry the brigand, unless I can come up with a means of my own rescue.”
“Perhaps my brother could be of assistance,” Jo suggested. “Julian can be quite formidable when he chooses to be.”
“I will not have my problems become someone else’s, Jo,” she denied. “I must face my own reckoning.”
“But what of Sinclair’s wife? Your brother?” Jo asked, her countenance troubled. “If he is a murderer as you suspect, he could plot your death next.”
Of course she had thought about that.
She had lain awake in her bed last night, scarcely sleeping at all, watching the shadows in the corners of her chamber and worrying over what was to become of her. Worrying over whether or not she had been wrong in going after the Earl of Sinclair. Whether or not he was guilty. Whether or not marrying him was safe.
“He claims innocence,” she told her friend. “He suggested he was with his mistress, but that he chose not to involve her.”
“If that is true, then you must speak with the mistress,” Jo urged. “You cannot marry Sinclair if he is plotting to murder you. I refuse to allow it, Callie. Say whatever you like to the contrary. Friends do not allow friends to marry murderers. You need answers, and you cannot take Sinclair at his word. We both know he is not a man of honor.”
No, he decidedly was not.
But then, unbidden, she thought about the manner in which he had worried over her eating. She thought about the way he had pulled her to safety from the window. The manner in which he had carried her to the bed in her sleep and tucked the bedclothes around her so she did not spend the night on the floor.
Of course, he had also abducted her, threatened her with a blade, and forced her to agree to marry him. None of those actions were the hallmarks of a gentleman. They did, however, suggest his desperation. A desperation which she had driven him to…
What a hopeless, horrid muddle.
“If I knew the identity of the mistress in question, I would ask her myself,” Callie said then. “But he did not volunteer it.”
“You must force him to tell you,” Jo said, her eyes flashing. “Tell him you need proof or you cannot marry him. Tell him you need more time than one week. And please, please consider contacting Westmorland. This situation is untenable. I cannot bear for anything ill to befall you.”
Callie caught her friend in an impulsive embrace. “Thank you for worrying over me. I promise you that I shall be fine, whatever happens. This is my battle to fight, and I will do everything in my power to win.”
Jo hugged her back. “You had better win, Calliope Manning. You cannot allow that scoundrel to best you.”
