“How much time have we to prepare the wedding?” the aunt asked, clapping her hands.
“One week,” Sin said.
“A few months,” Lady Calliope said simultaneously.
Her gaze was alarmed when it flew back to his. “One week?” she squeaked.
He grinned. “Since I have compromised you, my darling, I am afraid we must get married as soon as possible.”
“Oh yes, you must,” agreed the aunt quite helpfully. “This is all my fault, for arriving late. But do not worry, darling girl. Tante Fanchette is here now!”
And thank fuck for that, Sin thought to himself.
The first part of his plan had been accomplished. Next, he was going to pay a call to the offices of one J.M. White and Sons. He had a manuscript to collect.
Confessions of a Sinful Earl was at an end, and so, too, were his problems.
He hoped.
Callie hated lying to her beloved aunt.
But short of confessing everything, including her role in writing Confessions of a Sinful Earl to Aunt Fanchette, she did not know what she could do. To make matters worse, in true fashion, her aunt had decided that Callie was madly in love with the Earl of Sinclair and that spending the night alone with him had been très romantique.
Callie did not have the heart to correct her assumptions. Fortunately, her aunt was of a far more liberal persuasion than her brother. If Benny were here, he would beat the Earl of Sinclair to a pulp and then he would lock Callie in her chamber for the next month. Then again, the earl was frightfully strong and well-muscled. Perhaps Benny would not defeat him with such ease.
Better that Benny was not here.
Better that he was instead enjoying his honeymoon with Isabella.
When he returned, it would be too late for him to embroil himself in her problems, and that was precisely how she wanted it to be. It was precisely how it must be. For she had gotten herself into this disastrous predicament, and she was the one who must pay the forfeit.
With her life.
How horrifying a prospect.
“You will need a dress,” Aunt Fanchette was saying. “I daresay it is too late to commission one. A Worth gown would have been most agreeable. I do know a modiste here in London who hails from Paris. Perhaps she will have something that can do, in a trice.”
Callie blinked. Her mind was still awhirl from everything that had happened. Her entire life had changed forever in the span of one day. Although the Earl of Sinclair had taken his leave at last, the tension had yet to drain from her. Because what loomed before her—marriage to him—seemed akin to a prison sentence. Even if his protestations of innocence were true and she had been wrong about him, she did not even know him. He was a stranger to her. And after she had lost Simon, she had sworn to herself she would never become another man’s wife…
“Lace and satin would be just the thing, do you not think?” her aunt asked.
“I do not care what manner of dress I wear, Tante,” she said grimly.
That much was the truth. Her nuptials to the earl would not be a happy occasion.
“We must send word to Westmorland at once,” Aunt Fanchette continued. “Undoubtedly, he and the duchess will want to be in attendance, even if it means interrupting their honeymoon.”
“No!” Callie bit out with more force than necessary.
Her aunt flinched and gave her a curious, searching look. “But of course, we must send word to your brother. I know you have long since reached your majority, but Westmorland will want to be present.”
Callie could not bear for that. If Benny returned before her marriage, he would interrogate her until she revealed the truth. And she was doing everything in her power to keep the truth—and scandal—from tainting him.
“I…” She faltered, struggling to find a plausible excuse for keeping her beloved brother from her own nuptials. “I am ashamed, Tante Fanchette. Benny will be very upset with me for being so reckless with Lord Sinclair and spending the night alone with him. I do not dare wait.”
“Oh my darling,” said her aunt with such sympathy and tender caring that Callie felt a corresponding rush of guilt all over again. “Pray do not believe you are the only lady who has found herself in such a position. And look at what happened—Lord Sinclair is a hero, rescuing you from those brigands! I am certain Benedict would be understanding.”