Without hesitation and looking quite sure of herself, the woman crossed to the portico and mounted the steps. She was blond, green-eyed, and very pretty. Or at least, she looked like she'd be very pretty if she weren't scowling.
"Corinna, this is my sis—" Sean started, but stopped when the woman gestured discreetly.
He turned to see Quincy approaching the door.
"My wife has arrived," he said loudly instead.
TWENTY
FIVE MINUTES later, after Corinna departed following her introduction to his "wife," Sean found himself standing in Lincolnshire's bedroom with his sister beside him.
"Uncle," he said, "this is Mrs. Hamilton. Deirdre, the Earl of Lincolnshire."
Deirdre curtsied. "It's pleased I am to meet you, Lord Lincolnshire."
"I'm so very pleased you've come." Struggling to sit higher against all of his pillows, Lincolnshire blinked and yawned. "Please excuse me. I sat all…day for a portrait, and I fear that…left me exhausted."
To Sean's relief, Deirdre didn't seem fazed by the man's shortness of breath. Nor did she seem repulsed by his ever-swelling body. "I understand that you're ill, my lord."
"I'm dying," Lincolnshire said in his plainspoken way.
"That, too. And it's sorry I am to hear it."
"No fault of…yours." The old man cocked his head. "You're Irish."
She exchanged a wary glance with Sean. "Born and raised in Kilburton, sir. Your nephew married me while he was living in Ireland."
Lincolnshire nodded. "Kilburton is a pretty place."
"And how would you know that?" Deirdre raised a brow. "I don't recall your ever visiting."
Sean winced. Deirdre never had been one to think before opening her mouth. But Lincolnshire only laughed—a laugh that ended in a wheeze. "Haven't been there…since before you were born," he told her, and then added to Sean, "I like her."
Releasing a breath, Sean smiled and moved closer to his sister, wrapping an arm about her shoulders. "I like her, too."
"You should, considering…she's your wife. Whyever did you leave her in the countryside? She's…lovely." The old man grinned. "Give her a kiss."
The look sister and brother exchanged this time wasn't wary. It was panicked.
"Go on," Lincolnshire demanded.
Sean turned to Deirdre and pecked her on the cheek.
"That will never do," the earl declared in apparent disgust. "Word is you two…don't get along. Rumor has it you live apart."
Was that why the old man had insisted Deirdre be fetched? Was he intent on seeing a reconciliation? "You've said that before," Sean reminded him. "Wherever did you hear it?"
"Everywhere. I'm dying, not deaf. And I won't countenance…such a relationship in Lincolnshire House." He paused, all but gasping for air, but when Deirdre went to open her mouth, he waved a hand to stop her. "All the Lincolnshire earls have been happily…married, and I mean to see…that tradition continue."
"You shouldn't listen to rumors," Sean protested. "I love Deirdre."
Maybe not that way, but he did love her.
"Then…kiss her…like a man," the old earl wheezed.
There was nothing for it.
Reluctantly, Sean faced Deirdre once again. Sucking in a breath, he leaned down and laid his lips on hers, lightly, for the briefest instant.
It was all he could manage.
When he pulled back, Deirdre looked rather pale.
Lincolnshire shook his head. "Before I expire…I want to see better than that."
Saints preserve us, Sean thought.
"And I've a favor…to ask of you."
"Anything, Uncle," Sean said. "Anything at all." So long as it didn't involve kissing his sister.
A weak smile twitched on the man's lips. "Were I you…I'd wait to hear it first." He paused for a breath, and then another. "I wish you to…keep this house—"
"I will. You have my word." Arrogant Hamilton wouldn't be selling the most impressive house in all of London. "You won't mind living here, will you, Deirdre?"
She glanced around in patent disbelief, taking in the towering damask-hung bed, the scenes painted on the ceiling, the gold-stamped leather wallcoverings. "What sort of knothead would mind living here?"
That prompted another smile. But Lincolnshire wasn't finished. "And all of my staff…in perpetuity."
Tempted as he was to agree to that too, Sean couldn't add to his mountain of lies. "He has more than a hundred servants," he informed Deirdre.
Her eyes widened. No knothead herself, she was well aware Hamilton wouldn't keep nearly that number. He was a man who valued his privacy.
"Oh, Lord Lincolnshire, my husband doesn't like spending much time in London. The scenes he paints are all in the countryside. We won't be needing so many servants when he isn't here."
"For me, my dear. I cannot stand to think…these loyal people…my people…will be forced to fend for themselves."
Exchanging a glance with his sister, Sean shook his head.
"I need to know…this house will remain in your hands. And my staff…will retain their employment."
"I'll keep the house," Sean promised, "as I've said, although it's overly large for just Mrs. Hamilton and myself." Indeed, it was overly large for anyone unrelated to royalty. "But as to the other—"
"Sean," Lincolnshire cut in gently. Beseechingly. "Did you not say…you would do anything for me?"
In the long silence that stretched between them, Sean's mind raced. He was more likely to bed Deirdre than Hamilton was to retain the old earl's enormous staff. "What if I could find new, better employment for them all instead?"
A wee snort emerged from the man's throat. "Better than working…for me?"
"Very well, I misspoke. I agree there's no kinder, more thoughtful employer. But more prestigious positions exist, certainly. And…"
"And I won't…be here."
Sean nodded.
But evidently the earl remained unconvinced. "How can you find them all…employment? You're an artist, not…a man of business."
"I know people. Trust me."
"I do," Lincolnshire said meaningfully, making Sean writhe inside with guilt. "But I want…I need to know they're settled. That…they'll be happy."
"You will. I'll find them all employment."
"Better positions?"
"Better positions than they have now."
"Before I'm gone?"
"Before you're gone, Uncle. This I promise."
One promise he could keep. One promise he would keep.
The man nodded, apparently satisfied. "Now, as to you two."
Deirdre's eyes widened again. "What now?"
"I want to see you dance…at the Billingsgate ball…on Saturday."
TWENTY-ONE
