“I do not believe that,” Portia said, primly. “I am sure a lack of air would have been uppermost on his mind.”
“Doubt it.” The marquis glared at her. “Are you implying this young woman murdered the man by holding her massive rack of tits over his mouth and nose, even as he struggled?”
That set Sadie wailing. “Of course not,” Portia declared, loud enough to be heard over the crying. She then dragged Sadie to a small brocade chair by the wall and forced her to sit.
“I doubt he was smothered.” Sinclair’s cool voice cut through the wailing. And everyone appeared to accept his word on the matter.
Portia waved at the butler, but he was staring at the body and did not notice. Sandhurst had been so alive, so handsome—she hated death. Sometimes, in their care, children got ill and they couldn’t save them all. That was horrible. So horrible. She couldn’t bear the pain afterward. And the anger. She would throw herself into work at the foundling home, so she didn’t have to face the loss.
She felt just as sorrowful at Sandhurst’s untimely death. He seemed far too young. But she really had to deal with Sadie.
“Will one of you noble gentlemen please fetch her some brandy?” she asked loudly.
No one even appeared to hear her. They were either gaping at Sadie’s breasts as she sobbed into her hands or at poor Sandhurst. Portia was rather fed up with noble gentlemen—and even with the ladies.
But Sinclair lifted his head. “Yes, fetch something to calm the girl down.”
The butler jerked. “Of course, Your Grace. In one moment.” He scurried away.
Portia grabbed a small throw of tasseled silk from one of the wing chairs. She draped it around the courtesan’s shoulders. “This will warm you up.” And make you more decent, she thought. “You must calm yourself. I assume he met his end in another way. An apoplexy. An explosion of a blood vessel in his brain. He must have had some kind of weakness.”
Sadie wiped at tears. “Really?”
Bending, the butler presented a silver salver with a snifter of brandy atop it. Portia handed it to the young woman. And gave some hard-earned advice. “Don’t drink it too quickly.”
“Listen to her. She is a bit of an expert on that matter.” The deep voice with the lightly teasing note belonged to Sinclair.
His expression did not match that wry tone. Lines furrowed his brow and his mouth was held in a tense line.
He straightened away from Sandhurst’s supine form. Portia had intended some kind of rejoinder, but his expression stole her words. The way he looked as he elegantly rose to his feet, like a lion stretching, robbed her of breath.
His long strides brought him to Sadie. Saxonby followed and asked the butler for more brandy as Sinclair squatted in front of the courtesan, to bring himself level with the girl’s huge blue eyes. Portia heard Sadie catch her breath and let the throw slip open a little.
But the Duke of Sinclair didn’t look down at Sadie’s breasts. He didn’t take his eyes from the young woman’s face.
It was something Portia didn’t understand. Given why he’d broken their engagement—addicted to carnal games, he’d said—she was surprised. He was not acting as though he was attracted to Sadie in any way. “Tell us exactly what happened,” he said softly.
“I’ll tell you. You’ve always been so kind to me, Sin,” Sadie purred. She batted lashes, having transformed from terrified to temptress because she had a duke in front of her.
Always been kind? Goodness, had Sadie gone to his orgies? Probably she had. Had he touched this woman’s body when she was naked? Played with the large breasts? Made love to her?
“I’d feel so much safer in your arms,” Sadie cooed. “I could sit upon your lap. I know you do like that. Especially when I am—”
“That’s enough,” he said abruptly. “This is not the time or place.”
Well, she had her answer. Sadie and Sinclair had shared intimacy of some sort. She rather wished she’d asked for brandy too.
Sadie gazed at him adoringly. “I only invited Viscount Sandhurst to play to make you jealous. And ’e’s rather sweet. And terribly ’andsome. I mean ’e was—” Her large blue eyes filled with tears. “I was riding on top of ’im, and ’e looked as ’appy as a clam. Then suddenly, ’e jerked beneath me. I thought ’e’d come. But ’e made an ’orrible sound. Then didn’t move at all. So I got off him. And ’e was staring upward with those blank eyes. And blue lips.”
Sinclair nodded thoughtfully. “I believe Sadie is correct. He had a sudden seizure.”