We all rose, the scrape of chairs filling the silence. As the men turnedtoward the library for port, Miss Grenville lingered beside me. She leaned in, her breath brushing my ear.
“I do hope you’ll be prepared for a most entertaining day tomorrow, Mr. Sinclair.”
Edward coughed loudly, averting his gaze, and I had the distinct impression that he was hiding a laugh.
I paused, her rose scent ever so tantalizing. What would she say if I told her rose water was a favorite of mine? Roses bloomed in wild profusion within the Sinclair gardens.
She had a scheme or two tucked within her sleeve. I could feel it. There was no other explanation for such overt sweetness after the ire flashing in her eyes while she grilled me about the Company’s activities. Did she plan to persuade me otherwise with regard to this marriage?
Challenge accepted, Miss Grenville.
I offered her a bow. “I shall look forward to it.”
“Go on, Katherine. I plan to enjoy Mr. Sinclair’s company with a port in hand. I want to know everything about the current state of Hyderabad.” The colonel’s gruff admonishment broke the moment.
“Tomorrow. Don’t be late, Mr. Sinclair,” she threw over her shoulder.
I would speak with her later and, perhaps, clear any misunderstandings, although I doubted she wanted anything to do with me. A far cry from her reaction in the street when I’d swept her out of harm’s way.
My pulse quickened at the memory of her gazing up at me with those beautiful eyes. Such unusual providence to meet her first as a stranger. I rather preferred that version—the whispered thanks, the softness of her regard. An image flashed unbidden—or more a sensation—of her waist beneath my arm.
Ruthlessly, I banished the thought and followed Edward and the colonel to the library. The room, lined with dark wood shelves, boasted a magnificent collection of books. A pair of sabres hung over the fireplace,displayed to particular advantage. After politely refusing the port the colonel offered, I studied the blades.
“I hear you are a proficient with swords,” the colonel said as he gestured to the sabres.
“I enjoy it mostly as exercise. You have a magnificent pair, if I say so myself.”
His gaze flickered to the wall, then to me again. “Lord Sinclair told me you studied with European masters during your grand tour.”
My muscles tensed. What else had my grandfather told Colonel Grenville? That I was the second son, a wastrel and a disappointment, who had been the cause of my brother’s death and fled on a grand tour of Europe?
“’Tis only a hobby,” I answered, returning my attention to the polished swords. Had the pair shed blood in India? Grandfather had alluded to the colonel saving his life on the battlefield. I wondered at the relationship between the two fierce tigers.
“Nay, I think not. You went to Paris despite the threat of Napoleon. All to study with Master La Boëssière, even though the city lay in turmoil,” the colonel replied.
There was precious little that I was good at, other than languages and swords. I had studied under Jean-Louis Michel. He had fought on the battlefield and trained Napoleon’s best men, encouraged a practical approach to defeating the enemy, eschewing flourishes and empty footwork—the complete opposite of La Boëssière’s elegant but aggressive tactics. Although I had never bested my master, I enjoyed his tutelage, finding the rhythm and practiced movements a rewarding challenge.
I shrugged, offering no comment. My fencing truly was an outlet, nothing more. A defense when I had become too drunk to watch the words flying out of my mouth.
“You may be interested to know that Domenico Angelo foundedan academy in London. His son, Henry, runs it.” Edward offered as he accepted a glass of port from the colonel. “I can arrange for introductions.”
The mention of the famous fencer piqued my interest. Did Edward spar?
“Just don’t take him to the gambling dens as is your habit,” the colonel snarled as he sank into a leather chair. “I’ll have no rumors attached to our name. No Brooks’s, White’s, Moll King’s Coffee House, Cockpit, or any other cesspool you call home these days.”
I was unfamiliar with the names, but Edward’s answering smirk brought a sense of dismay. I could only imagine the kinds of men he might associate with, and I had no desire for such company again.
“I shall be on my best behavior, Grandfather. Nottoomany cockfights, I promise.” Edward raised his glass as a salute.
The colonel’s neck reddened at his grandson’s boldness.
“Besides,” Edward added with a wink, “I wouldn’t want to frighten our esteemed guest, would I? Especially since he is to marry my sister.”
Both pairs of eyes swiveled in my direction, and the weight of my future bore down on my shoulders.
“You’ll also stay under my roof, Sinclair,” the colonel said with the tone of a man issuing orders on the battlefield. “I won’t have my future grandson-in-law roaming London at all hours, getting soft or foolish, either.”
I swallowed the urge to immediately refuse my host’s offer and nodded instead, my mind churning with the tasks that lay ahead.
