was between Lady Calliope, still seated opposite him, and the burled walnut. He braced his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned forward, until they were nearly nose to nose.
“This evening, you are still at my mercy,” he warned her. “Right here, right now, you are very much at my mercy, princess. I could do anything I wanted to you here. I could scoop you up in my arms, haul you over my shoulder, and carry you off to my chamber. I could lay claim to you tonight, planting my seed in your womb. There is no one here to save you.”
She swallowed. “The butler—”
“Is hard of hearing,” he interrupted. “And nearly blind as well.”
The only reason Langdon was still in Sin’s employ was that the previous earl had not looked after the stalwart and loyal retainer in his will, and Sin had been left without the coin to offer him a comfortable life in the country to spend with his beloved Skye terrier, Eloise, as he deserved. It was an egregious transgression Sin hoped to rectify upon his marriage to Lady Calliope.
“Is that why he bumped into one of the marble busts laid out on the floor?” Lady Calliope asked, her brow furrowed.
Her query gave him pause. “There were marble busts on the floor?”
Whilst most objects of value had been sold off, a few collections remained. The marble busts of former Earls of Sinclair and the previous earl’s collection of Chinoiserie among them. But there was only one reason why the busts would have been on the floor, and he had a feeling it meant his mother’s nursemaid had been tippling her laudanum once again.
Fuck.
“Yes,” Lady Calliope said. “I presumed your staff was in the midst of rearranging them, though why they should do so at this time of night is rather perplexing, as was the fact that none of your chambermaids were in sight. Your butler stubbed his toe quite soundly, I fear.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, which was as long as it took him to remind himself that he needed to force the woman before him to recall she had no choice. Because he had no choice. And because she had made it that way for the both of them.
“As I was saying,” he began.
“I am firm on this, Lord Sinclair,” she broke in. “I cannot marry you unless I first speak to your mistress.”
Tilly was not his mistress any longer. But he was not about to allow her to be interrogated by his future wife. To do so would be an insult to both women.
“You cannot speak to a mistress I do not have,” he countered. “And even if she were my mistress, I still would not allow you to conduct a tête-à-tête with her. Not only would that be the height of impropriety, but it would be terribly disrespectful to the both of you.”
“Then I cannot marry you.”
He gripped the arms of her chair with so much force, his knuckles ached. “Yes, you can. And yes, you will. You have already promised to do so. I have compromised you quite thoroughly, as your aunt knows. You require my silence. I require your dowry. That is the end of this particular tragedy, my dear. Acquaint yourself with your fate.”
“Not without speaking to her,” Lady Calliope insisted, as if she had a choice in the matter.
One thing was for certain. This woman was going to be the death of him. She was going to drive him mad with her nonsense before he could save everyone he cared about.
“Look at me,” he ordered her. “I am deadly serious when I tell you that if you cause me any more trouble, I will forget all about marrying you and simply shout from the proverbial rooftops what you have done.”
He was bluffing, of course. Sin had no way of knowing if Miss Vandenberg would reconsider their betrothal if he were to be acquitted of the charges which had been laid at his door by Lady Calliope’s scribblings. Even if she would, Miss Vandenberg had demanded a lavish wedding that would not be accomplished with haste or ease. He could not even last the next month on what little he had remaining.
“Very well,” Lady Calliope said. “If you will not arrange for a meeting, I shall be left with no recourse other than to find her myself and to pay her a call.”
“You have no notion whom to pay the call upon,” he countered.