Last Chance for Paris - Merry Farmer Page 0,8
bristling. She resented the fact that, as well-meaning as Damien McGovern was, he was dictating to her. She hated being pushed around and manipulated by anyone, especially when her honor and the honor of her family was at stake. But more than that, she was irritated beyond measure with herself for finding Lord Sinclair so devilishly charming.
“Please tell me you didn’t pick up that gun when I got rid of it that night,” Damien whispered on.
Solange kept her mouth shut. Of course she’d run to retrieve her pistol when he’d tried to throw it away. She had the feeling he knew it as well.
“Don’t kill Lord Sinclair,” Damien continued. They drew near the rest of the cousins—who were abandoning their games to crowd around the tables of food at last—and several people glanced to them curiously. Damien smiled as though nothing was wrong and said through clenched teeth, “We don’t need a murder right now. Not when so many other axes are hanging over our heads.”
He was, no doubt, referring to the salacious photograph of Lord Reith and Damien’s sister, Dorothy, that the scandal rag, Les Ragots, still could publish. He was also probably referring to what she’d witnessed between him and Lord Gregory the night she’d almost shot Lord Sinclair as well. The two of them were lovers—she would have bet anything on it—and if that fact were discovered, it would mean ruin. And who knew what other secrets the McGoverns were keeping? Solange’s time in their company had taught her that there were far more things making the entire family infamous than simply their over-exuberant ways.
“I can assure you, Mr. McGovern,” Solange said with more formality than was necessary as they reached the end of the queue that had formed at the food table, “I have no plans to do anything that will reflect badly on the McGovern family or put them in jeopardy in any way.”
If she had her way, she’d do away with Lord Sinclair quietly, then move on to Monsieur Lafarge without anyone knowing she was connected to the McGoverns, or even that she was the one who had brought about their downfall.
But even as she thought that, the resolve that she’d clung to so fiercely for so long faltered. She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder to where Lord Sinclair was walking their way, deep in conversation with Lord Gregory. The spring sunlight picked up the highlights in Lord Sinclair’s brown hair and made his complexion rosy and inviting. He walked easily, not at all like a man who had more sins on his shoulders than he could count. And when he passed by the badminton court, he broke away from Lord Gregory to help some of the children that had wandered over from the nearby village to find racquets and shuttlecocks to play with. He paused for a moment to teach them how to hit the birdie as well.
Searing, reluctant warmth spread through her. A man who was responsible for carrying out the black deeds of a murderer and destroyer of lives wouldn’t be so kind and precious with children. He wouldn’t stroll calmly with her, talking freely about his past and his purpose in traveling. She still had more questions than answers, but deep in her gut, she believed Lord Sinclair would tell her everything she needed to know.
Damien cleared his throat by her side, gesturing for Solange to move forward in the queue. Her thoughts had been so distracted that she hadn’t noticed it moving forward. She rushed to the table and began fixing herself a plate, but food was the last thing on her mind right then.
Once she had her plate and was seated on a corner of the blanket with Heather and Sage—the two cousins she was certain wouldn’t attempt to drag her into a useless conversation about unimportant things—she sought out Lord Sinclair and continued to puzzle over him. Something absolutely wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be noticing how broad his shoulders were or how confident his gait as he left the badminton court to head to the food table. She shouldn’t find his smile so bright or so appealing. And she certainly shouldn’t be remembering the way he’d come to her and Lady Briarwood’s rescue at the Moulin Rouge the night before. He’d been gentlemanly and gallant then, in spite of the fact that he’d been conversing with Monsieur Lafarge moments before. In fact, she realized with a start, he’d broken off his conversation with Lafarge to