Westmorland was lethal. He had killed two Fenians. Sin did not discount the danger his new brother-in-law presented. He had no doubt that the duke meant every word he said. His devotion to Callie had been apparent, and surprisingly comforting to Sin. His loathing of Sin—that was another matter entirely.
However, he could not entirely blame Westmorland. Had their situations been reversed, Sin had to admit that he would likely feel the same.
He met his brother-in-law’s gaze unflinchingly. “If I ever harm your sister in any fashion, I will end myself first. I have no intention of hurting Callie. Ever. She is my wife, and I will do everything in my power to keep her happy and well.”
The duke’s eyes narrowed into icy slits of disbelief. “I do not trust you, Sinclair. Not one whit.”
Sin almost chuckled. Instead, he raised a brow. “I never asked you to trust me.”
“Why did you marry my sister?” Westmorland asked.
“Because she owed me,” he answered honestly. “She ruined me, quite intentionally. I had no recourse. I am being utterly honest with you, Westmorland. If you think I have anything to hide, you are wrong.”
“Your first wife,” the duke said slowly, “what happened to her?”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, disgusted. “If I had wanted to murder Celeste, I would have done so years before she took her life by her own hand. She was mad, Westmorland. I know you and Callie want to believe your sainted brother could not have been duped by her, but I am living proof, standing before you, to tell you that woman was a poison. To herself, to everyone she knew. But I would never have harmed her. And likewise, I would never harm your sister. She is my wife, my countess, the mother of my future children.”
“You married her for her share of the Manning fortune,” his brother-in-law accused.
He looked Westmorland in the eye. “You are damned right I did, and she married me because she had to.”
Before the duke could counter his bold statement, the door to Callie’s apartments opened at last. Dr. Gilmore emerged.
“Well?” Sin demanded, stalking toward the physician, his heart pounding in his chest as he forgot all about the need to defend himself against his irate brother-in-law.
“What is the matter with her, Doctor?” Westmorland asked in unison, striding forward also.
The physician looked from Sin to the duke, then back to Sin, clearly wondering which of them he ought to direct his words toward. Sin scowled at Westmorland. Damn it, he was beyond his bounds. Callie was Sin’s wife now, and that bloody well took precedent over the relationship between siblings.
“How is Lady Sinclair?” Sin pressed curtly.
Westmorland pinned him with a glare.
Sin ignored him.
“Her ladyship is well and resting now,” Dr. Gilmore said calmly. “You may see her if you wish.”
“Resting,” Sin repeated, loathing the word. He had never known Callie to rest. Or to faint.
“But what is the matter with her, Dr. Gilmore?” he snapped, out of patience. “Why would she swoon for no good reason?”
Dr. Gilmore gave him a small smile. “I do believe there was a good reason. A reason which will make itself decidedly known over the course of the next few months.”
Was something dreadfully wrong with Callie? Was she ill? The thought stole the saliva from his mouth, the breath from his lungs. She was so vibrant and bold and alive. The notion of losing her, of watching her wither away, was hideous. Eviscerating.
Confusion swarmed him, mingling with the fear.
“What the devil does that mean?” he bit out, longing to shake the physician. “Cease speaking in riddles, man. Is she ill?”
“Oh dear, pray forgive me, Lord Sinclair,” said the physician. “It was not my intention to worry you. Judging from my examination, she is in the finest of health. However, this is a delicate matter, and one generally best left to a discussion between a husband and wife. Why do you not go and see Lady Sinclair now? She will explain everything she and I discussed.”
The answers were no clearer to Sin now than they had been before. Perhaps if he throttled the man? Planted him a facer?
“Bloody hell,” Westmorland breathed, looking suddenly pale and dazed. “I am to be an uncle?”
An uncle?
His brother-in-law’s words reached him as if from afar, from the opposite end of a tunnel. A babe.
