Page 63 of The Boxing Baroness

Sin turned his attention to Alanna’s lavender missive first. The paper was impregnated with her signature scent and lilac drifted up to tease his nostrils.

Sin had enjoyed a mutually beneficial arrangement with the lovely widow, but he’d been poised to bring the relationship to a close for some time now.

Before he’d received Strickland’s letter, his plan had been to apply himself seriously to finding a wife. It was not a process that he’d been looking forward to. Not because he was opposed to marriage—he had enjoyed his brief marriage to Vanessa, even though they’d hardly been more than strangers when they’d married.

No, he wasn’t looking forward to finding a wife now because he would still be expected to choose a young woman in her childbearing prime even though he was thirty-two. He’d gone to enough balls over the past few years and danced with enough young women to know the gap between thirty-two and eighteen was more than one of mere years.

Nevertheless, he had drawn up a list of suitable candidates. It had been his intention to become acquainted with the young women—all of whom were of impeccable background—over the course of the Season and make an offer before he left for the family seat at the end of June.

Now he would have to put aside his plans for marriage.

Because he found the notion of courting a wife while bedding a mistress a repugnant one—not to mention disrespectful to both women—he had planned to end his arrangement with Alanna before the Season.

Alanna would not take kindly to the news. He suspected she held hopes that he might extend her an offer of marriage. She was the widow of a viscount, and her lineage was adequate. Her three male offspring suggested she was suitably fecund, although at thirty-six she would likely not be able to give him more than a few children.

Still, that was no reason not to marry her.

And yet . . .

And yet he could not see himself living with her as his mate. She was surpassingly lovely and also a lusty, uninhibited, and demanding bed partner.

Unfortunately, she had no desire for anything other than pleasure. Not even her children seemed to interest her, and she had given them over to her mother-in-law to raise.

Sin had grown up with a selfish, reckless, pleasure-seeking father and a damaged mother; he wanted better for his own children. He wanted a woman with more than just fashion, jewels, and entertainment on her mind.

He had hopes that he might come to love whatever woman he married. Because once he wed, he would remain faithful to his wife and demand the same.

Well, all of that would have to wait now. And he couldn’t say that he didn’t feel some relief at postponing the monumental decision.

He opened Alanna’s letter.

Darling,

It has been more than three weeks since you have come to me, Staunton. I am beginning to think you do not like me anymore. You will be gone soon, I know, and I shan’t see you again for ages.

You know how thin town has been of late. And the weather is so miserable this year. I am languishing from your neglect. I will be at Lady Conrad’s soiree tomorrow night. I do hope to see you there.

Yours,

A.

Sin folded the paper back into its neat little rectangle. He supposed tomorrow night was as good as any. He’d been planning to go to the Conrad soiree, in any case. It would be the last formal entertainment he’d attend before leaving.

Sin turned to the final letter and cracked the ugly gray wafer.

Duke,

I know you are offering a reward for information about a certain event that took place in May 1815. I will be at the Three-Legged Dog after eleven o’clock on February 27. Come alone and bring twice the money that was promised if you want to hear what I know. I know what you look like and I will find you. If I think you’ve been followed or if you bring anyone along, you will never hear from me again.

Sin stared down at the roughly written letter. Elliot had used his connections to put out the word that they were looking for information about Dominic’s possible connection to the French escapee Beauvais, and this was the first response they’d had. February twenty-seventh would be his last night in London.

Why did Sin feel that the date—right before he was leaving—was more than just a coincidence?

Chapter 16

It was snowing February twenty-eighth, the day they departed London.

Marianne considered that an omen—although what kind of omen, she wasn’t quite sure.