Seven Years to Sin(75)

“As if I care what he thinks.”

“What of your mother, then?” Michael challenged. “She might view this as an opportunity for you and His Grace to find common ground. Jessica is barren, Alistair. For a certainty.”

“I know. I care not.”

“You cannot be so vindictive. I know you and your father have never gotten along well, but this is a matter far greater than either of you.”

A fresh beverage was set before Michael. Alistair grabbed it for his own and drained it. “Your brain has been addled by overwork,” he said, wiping his mouth.

“You must be accountable now for decisions that will impact generations—”

“Bloody hell. Let us be clear … Your objection to my marrying Jessica comes not from unsuitability or incompatibility, but from your belief that I have an obligation to spawn?”

“Responsibility is a nuisance, is it not?” Michael said with surprising bitterness.

“Obviously the stress of your brother’s passing has driven you mad. Damned if I’ll give up the one thing in this world I cannot live without simply to whelp offspring in a pitiful attempt to gain acceptance.”

“Whether or not you mend the rift with your father is secondary to honoring your duty to the title.”

Alistair was of the mind that walking away might be wise. Otherwise, he was certain he was only seconds away from strangling his oldest friend. While Michael had no knowledge of the circumstances surrounding Alistair’s parentage, he was spouting nonsense nonetheless. “Ensuring the longevity of Masterson’s lineage has never been, nor will it ever be, my duty.”

Michael’s head tilted, his gaze narrowing. Suddenly, something akin to horror swept over his features. “My God … You don’t know, do you?”





“Alistair Caulfield,” Hester repeated, shaking her head. “I would never have guessed. You two were always so cool and reserved toward one another. I always believed you didn’t much care for him.”

Jessica lifted one shoulder in an offhand, slightly sheepish shrug. “He’s changed, but more than that, there are depths to him one cannot see unless he reveals them. And I confess, I always found him physically attractive.”

“What woman doesn’t?” Hester leaned forward, as if imparting a great secret. “There is something deliciously wicked about him. Something sinful and decadent. And dear God, he is a man now, so large and strong. More handsome than ever, and he was stunning in his youth! It is difficult not to stare at him.”

“I know. I’m horribly besotted. Truly, I have to wed him or I will embarrass myself by making calf-eyes at him.”

Her sister straightened and poured more tea. “The way he looks at you is indecent. Have you shagged him yet?”

“Hester!”

“You have!” Hester threw her head back and laughed, reminding Jess of the energetic girl of long ago. “Well? I must know if he is as good in bed as he looks.”

Just thinking about Alistair made her toes curl. “How can you leap to the conclusion that we’ve been intimate? Perhaps he was a perfect gentleman.”

“Alistair Caulfield? On a ship for endless days?” Hester laughed her sweet, tinkling laugh. “Any other man, perhaps. But not a scoundrel like he. So … ?”

“So … He is as delectable as he looks.”

“I knew it!” Hester smiled over the rim of her cup. “I am so happy for you, Jess.”

Jess wanted to feel equally happy for her sister, but the circumstances didn’t warrant it. Hester was far too frail, especially for a woman who was midway through a pregnancy. “How are things between you and Regmont?”

“He’s equally consummate in bed,” Hester said with the faintest note of bitterness in her tone. “Far too skilled, actually. No man should be so knowledgeable about a woman’s body.”

“Is he unfaithful?”

Hester’s cup lowered and she looked contemplative. “I have no notion. If so, his appetite for me hasn’t decreased at all.”

A long stretch of silence ensued as Jess tried to understand what was causing her sister so much pain. “Hester …” she said finally. “Please tell me what’s wrong. You’ve lost far too much weight. What of the baby and the nourishment required for it to grow plump and healthy?”

“I’ll eat more now that you’re here.”

“And when I’m not?” Jess pushed to her feet. Restless, she paced, a bad habit her father had beaten out of her in her youth.

“You have changed,” Hester noted.

“So have you.” Pointing to the lemon cream scones sitting untouched on the tea service tray, she said, “You adore those scones. They are your favorite. You always eat too many of them, with heaping scoops of clotted cream that fall off your fingers when you take a bite. Yet you haven’t touched a one. You won’t even look at them.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I am certain your child is.”

Hester winced and Jess felt horrid, but something had to be done.

Returning to her sister, Jess sank to her knees and caught up Hester’s hands, noting the skeletal thinness with growing despair. “Tell me. Are you ill? Have you seen a doctor? Or is it something else? Is it Regmont? Are you afraid to tell me because I suggested the pairing? Tell me, Hester. Please. ”