Page 2 of The Art of Sinning
“You know me.” He somehow managed a light tone. “What’s the fun in being corrigible?”
Thank God she hadn’t guessed at the truth: that he hated weddings because they reminded him of his own over a decade ago. Which had been followed six months later by a funeral with two coffins—one for his wife and one for his stillborn son.
Regret and anger roiled in his gut. Damn it, he’d suppressed the image of those coffins for a while now. Must it rise again every time he attended some fool’s wedding?
Fortunately, Zoe didn’t seem to notice his consternation. “Anyway,” she said breezily, “I thought I should tell you that your sister and your mother are on their way to London.”
God help him. That was the last thing he needed. “I suppose they think to fetch me back home to Montague.”
Situated on the banks of the Brandywine River a few hours from Philadelphia, his family homestead held the largest of the textile mills that were the source of his family’s fortune. And now that his late, unlamented father was dead, his sister Amanda was running them all, since she possessed a half interest in the properties. He held the other half, although he’d toss it into the sea before he’d set foot on Montague land again.
The better choice, of course, was to sell Amanda his half. She wanted it, and he wanted to give it to her. But since the properties had all come from his mother’s family, Father’s will demanded that Mother agree to the sale. And so far she had refused, confound her.
She ought to know better than to think he would return to run the mills. He loved his mother and sister dearly, but Father’s death hadn’t changed a damned thing about his feelings for Montague. He would rather cut his own throat than carry on Father’s legacy. And the sooner Mother realized it, the better off everyone would be.
“When do they leave for England?” Jeremy asked. How much time did he have to prepare?
“Whendidthey leave for England, you mean. They should arrive within a few weeks.” She ducked her gaze. “No doubt they departed as soon as they got my letter.”
“Yourletter?”
Zoe stuck out her chin, though she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You can’t blame me for taking pity on them. You don’t keep them informed about where you’re headed.”
“Because it’s none of their concern!” When she flinched, he moderated his tone. “And because I rarely know where I’m going next. I could write and say, ‘I’m sailing the Danube with an Austrian prince and his consort,’ but by the time they receive the letter, I’m likely to have befriended some monk with an Alpine refuge full of sculptures that I’m off to view.”
“Precisely,” she said hotly. “As you’re so fond of saying, you blow with the wind. That makes it hard for them to keep up with you.”
“They don’t need to.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “The point of this trip across the Atlantic was that I got to travel the British Isles and the Continent to see works of art I’d never experienced.” And to make a life for himself well away from home. “They know that.”
“Yes, but Amanda is desperate to speak to you about your father’s estate. So when she wrote asking after you, I told her that you were returning to London to view the British Institution’s annual summer exhibition before it closes at the end of the month. I thought your family might get the letter in time to be here for that, but I gather that the crossings have been rough recently, so my letter and their ship were probably delayed.”
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jeremy muttered a series of oaths under his breath. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”
Zoe laid her hand on his arm. “You’re the closest thing I have to a brother. I hate to see you at odds with your family.”
“I’m not at odds with anyone. But there’s no point in talking to them. They have their minds made up about—” Catching himself before he could reveal too much, he pasted a bland smile to his lips. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I’ll deal with them.” Somehow.
She cocked her head. “You won’t run off again, will you? You’ll wait for them to arrive?”
“I came for the exhibition, remember?” he said irritably. “I haven’t yet had a chance to view it.”
He thrust aside the possibility that his sister might have an urgent reason for needing him. If it had been so blamed important, she could have included that information in a letter to Zoe. And clearly she hadn’t.
Zoe arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t put it past you to flee as soon as my back is turned. You have a bad habit of avoiding your American family.”
It was more a case of avoiding what they wanted of him, though he couldn’t say that. Instead, he donned the role that had become natural around Zoe. “You know me,” he said genially. “Never met a responsibility I couldn’t shirk.”
She looked as if she were about to speak, when someone hailed her from across the room. “Oh, dear, I’m being summoned. I believe we’re starting the wedding toasts.” She hurried off as fast as she could with a babe in her belly.
Wonderful. Now he had to endure a series of sentimental pronouncements about the marital future of the happy couple.
His gut knotted, and he frowned. He refused to sit through that. And it wasn’t as if he could wander the crowd, looking for his Juno during the toasts, anyway. That would draw too much attention.
So he’d just escape until the wedding party was done with their maudlin speeches. Thank God he’d thought to tuck his cigar case into his pocket. Pausing only to snag a lit taper, he fled through some French doors onto the empty terrace.
But not empty for long. Hot on his heels came another man, apparently thinking to escape the toasts as well. Jeremy didn’t mind. He hated smoking alone.
The fellow stopped short at the sight of Jeremy and glanced back into the crowded room. Then, with a look of grim purpose, he shut the door behind him and evidently resigned himself to having company.
