“Langdon!” he bellowed.
“My lord? How may I be of service?”
As if conjured, Dunlop, the younger domestic Langdon had been tasked with training in the role of butler, appeared. He was far too handsome for Sin’s liking. Callie had chosen him, and Sin had eagerly foisted all the duties concerning the household off upon her. But now, he found himself regretting his decision. For Dunlop was too young as well. Sandy haired and blue eyed, with a mild manner and an easy disposition that made Sin instantly suspicious of him.
“I called for Langdon,” he snapped at the butler-in-training. “Where is he?”
“He is having a nap with Eloise,” Dunlop explained, his voice calm and tranquil, as if he were dealing with a recalcitrant child. “How may I help you, my lord?”
He did not want to ask this whelp for anything. Indeed, as Sin looked upon him now, he feared the blasted fellow was too pleasing of face and form. There was no paunch about the middle, no thinning hair.
All Celeste’s indiscretions slammed into him in that moment. Her every betrayal. All the pain he had buried and done his damnedest to ignore. He looked at Dunlop, and he saw Callie kissing him. He saw Dunlop in Callie’s bed.
Fuck.
Sin ran a hand from his jaw down his throat, feeling itchy in his own skin. Callie had never betrayed him. Nor had she given him any indication she would. But his mind was playing evil, wicked tricks upon him, returning him to the days when his wife had bedded half his staff with glee.
He told himself this was different, that Callie was nothing like his last wife. And yet, his mind would not cease. He could not stop his thoughts, tumbling over each other like the waves in a waterfall. Threatening to inundate him, to drown.
Celeste had taken great pleasure in hurting him.
So had Callie.
Curse it, was he doomed to continue repeating the same mistakes?
“My lord?” Dunlop prodded him, returning Sin to the present.
Reminding him that he was a jealous, foolish wreck. That he was a man who had been married for the span of a month, whose wife had hired a handsome young butler and then disappeared for hours.
“Has Lady Sinclair returned from paying calls?” he forced himself to ask like a normal, rational husband.
He told himself it was Celeste and her machinations that made him feel so uncertain.
That it was not Callie.
She had pledged to be true to him until she gave him an heir and spare, had she not?
“She has not yet returned, my lord,” Dunlop told him. “Shall I report to you when her carriage arrives?”
“No,” he snapped, feeling foolish, before thinking better of his response. What need had he to guard his pride? “On second thought, yes, Dunlop. Please do. I have a matter of urgent import to discuss with the countess.”
That was a lie, of course, but the young, handsome, far-too-muscular butler did not bloody well need to know that.
“Of course, my lord,” said the new domestic. “I will report to you as soon as her ladyship returns to the residence.”
With a proper bow—which Sin found himself rather aggrieved he could not even offer improvement upon—Dunlop turned on his heel and disappeared. Grinding his molars, Sin watched the new servant stalking away. If the bastard even sent a lingering glance in Callie’s direction…
No.
He could not forever allow himself to be entrapped by Celeste’s actions. Could he? Celeste had been mad. Not like Mama, who was confused. Celeste’s mind had been different. She had been wild, determined to destroy anything that was good. But Callie was…
Callie.
Different.
Unique.
Beautiful and bold and so very unlike every other female he had known. Not even Tilly had made him feel the way his new wife did. All the more reason for his concern, for his fear. Sin knew better than anyone that his past did not exactly mean that he was capable of following his heart.
