"You can summon her…can't you? She'll be the next countess…and the mother of my eventual heirs. I wish to…get to know her." The earl paused for a much-needed breath. And another. "Please, Sean."
The dear man's eyes shone with hope. How could Sean refuse him?
He couldn't.
Bloody hell.
"NO." IN HER beautiful floral-painted bedroom, the only room in Sean's house that wasn't blue—in fact, he wasn't sure what color it was—Deirdre tossed a pile of shifts into the trunk she was filling. "I've told you twice already, no."
It felt like days since Sean had been home. Hell, it had been days since he'd been home. He'd neglected his work yet again to come talk to his sister, and this wasn't the welcome he'd hoped for. "Why are you packing your things, then?"
"I'm moving to Daniel's house tomorrow. I'm bored out of my mind here alone in Hampstead. I'm going to live in the middle of London, where a body sees another face once in a while."
Oh, no, she wasn't. "You'll live in London, all right, but with Lincolnshire." He was allowing his empire to go to hell in order to obtain her precious divorce, and she couldn't even wait and see this thing through? "I want you to arrive early Monday evening. That will make it believable that you had to come in from the countryside. You owe me, Deirdre. I'm doing a favor for you. Now you'll do this favor for me."
"I didn't ask for any favors. I don't want any favors." She pulled three dresses out of her clothespress. Brown, brown, and brown. "I still cannot believe you allowed John to talk you into this ridiculous scheme."
"Well, I did." And didn't he regret it even more than she? "And now Lincolnshire is insisting he meet Hamilton's wife. Which is you, in case you don't remember."
"Oh, I remember," Deirdre said dryly. "But I don't care." The dresses clenched in her hands, she turned to him. "What is the man going to do, after all, should you fail to bring him a wife to meet?"
"He'll be disappointed."
"I've news for you, Sean: We're all disappointed sometimes. Lincolnshire will survive."
"He won't survive, no. Either way. And he deserves happiness in his final days. He's a nice man, Deirdre."
"John never thought so."
"John is an idiot."
"You've a point there." She folded the dresses, then sighed and went back for more. "But I don't want to play your wife."
Sean echoed her own words. "I've news for you, Deirdre: We all have to do things we'd rather not sometimes."
"Sometimes, maybe. But not this time."
"If I don't produce a wife," he argued, "Lincolnshire may retaliate by withholding his fortune from your husband."
"John deserves that. Nothing would make me happier."
"Think again, little sister. If Hamilton isn't satisfied with the job I do placating his uncle—if he loses his inheritance as a result—I'd lay odds he won't grant you your divorce."
She shrugged. "I don't care. I told you not to do this in the first place. I'll be happy living with Daniel whether I'm married to him or not."
Sean kept silent a moment, deliberating. And then, "You won't be living with Daniel Raleigh," he said quietly.
"I will. Is something wrong with your ears, Sean? I told you, I'm moving to Daniel's house tomorrow."
"No, you're not. You're moving to Lincolnshire House on Monday."
"Something is wrong with your ears."
He hadn't wanted to tell her the whole truth, hadn't wanted her to know the worst. Hadn't wanted her to feel guilty or indebted.
But he didn't see where he had a choice.
"Whether he inherits Lincolnshire's fortune or not, Hamilton will soon be an earl. He's going to require an heir. In lieu of divorcing you, he intends to force you to move back in with him until you bear him a male child."
That stopped her halfway from her clothespress to the bed. She swiveled to him, a blue dress and a brown one clutched tight to her middle. "He wouldn't. You're making this up to get me to do what you want."
"I'm not making anything up." He walked closer and put a hand on her shoulder, easing her toward the bed and down to sit. "He told me this, Deirdre. When I refused to do his bidding, he told me to force me to agree. And the law is clear. If he demands you back in his bed, you'll have no choice but to comply." He sighed and sat beside her. "You're already packed. Come play Mrs. Hamilton at Lincolnshire House, will you? With any luck, it will be for the last time."
Her fingers uncurled; her arms dropped to her sides. The dresses slid from her lap to the floor. "You win," she said.
But he didn't feel like a winner.
NINETEEN
EARLY MONDAY evening at Lincolnshire House, Corinna was cleaning her palette and gazing at her work in progress when she felt the hair stir on her neck. Felt it swept aside. Felt warm lips pressed to her nape. A little thrill rippling through her, she bowed her head to allow better access, sighing at the tender caress.
It ended too quickly, and she turned to see Sean.
"I had a good day," he said. "A productive day. Thank you."
His eyes were so green, so sincere. It was amazing how comfortable she felt meeting them, how easily she'd slid into this intimacy.
He'd met her at the door at nine o'clock this morning, walked her into this salon, and greeted her with a kiss that had left her weak at the knees and light in the head. "Was that worth getting up for?" he'd asked.
She'd nodded, robbed of words for once. And he'd laughed, then left to do whatever it was he did while she spent the whole day painting.
She felt light-headed again now, just locking eyes with him. She hoped he would kiss her again—on her lips, not her nape—but instead he shifted his gaze past her. "I'm impressed."
Addled as
