The Sinners Club by Kate Pearce Page B

ordered to present himself at ten in the morning at the Grange. Considering the inevitable inclement weather, the head groom recommended a horse, and Jack set out at a slow pace, which was all the old hack would allow.
    He didn’t mind dawdling. It gave him time to think over the extraordinary events of the previous day, and especially the night. Mary and Simon Picoult had the most unusual relationship he had ever encountered between two siblings. He was not easily shocked, and knew how it felt to have his relationship with his own sister brought under close scrutiny, but he’d never felt any lust for Violet. He was completely sure that she would have gutted him with his own knife if he’d kissed her the way Simon had kissed Mary last night.
    A reluctant smile curved his lips. Maybe they’d thought he wouldn’t notice... even so, it was an incredible risk to take in front of a stranger. As everything that had happened had been at Simon’s instigation, he obviously wasn’t as quiet as Jack had suspected. In fact, he might even be as sexually imaginative as Jack. Violet would find that highly amusing. Jack found it remarkably stimulating.
    His horse tossed his head as a partridge flew up from the undergrowth and Jack had to grab the reins. He needed to concentrate and forget the Picoults while he considered how to deal with the interview ahead. In his coat pocket, he had two letters he’d written before breakfast and deemed too unsafe to leave at Pinchbeck Hall. One was to Mr. McEwan in London asking some questions about the previous version of the earl’s will, and the other to Adam at the Sinners Club asking for help in identifying the Picoults. He’d also added a note about his lack of progress looking for Lord Keyes, but he hoped that would change after he’d spoken to the vicar.
    He crossed through the village green, passed the inn and the ancient church, and headed toward an imposing house mounted on a hill overlooking the small village. The gates weren’t manned, so he dismounted to open them and remembered to fasten them securely behind him before he proceeded up the main driveway. In his travels, he’d discovered that countrymen of any nationality became very irate if you left the gates open.
    He followed the narrow shady driveway up to the house and discovered it was a modern square stucco box in the Palladian style. A path led around the side of the house and he followed it to the stables, which were older and less well maintained than the gleaming façade of the house. He left his horse with a groom and walked back around to knock on the front door.
    After what seemed like forever, the door opened and an elderly butler stared at Jack.
    â€œYour business, sir?”
    â€œGood morning, I’m Mr. John Smith. I have an appointment with Mr. George Mainwaring.”
    â€œIndeed, sir. The master is expecting you.” He stepped back and allowed Jack over the threshold. “You may await him in his study.”
    Jack followed the butler down a long hallway lined with remarkably gloomy portraits and dreary landscapes and was left in a book-filled room that smelled of wet dog and pipe smoke. He strolled across to the fireplace to study the family portraits that hung over the mantelpiece, his hands clasped behind his back.
    He didn’t recognize anyone in the largest of the pictures and assumed they must all be Mainwarings. Even if the painter had been kind, they were hardly an attractive family. A smaller painting caught his eye and he leaned in close to observe the details. As a child, he’d seen a miniature of his paternal grandmother, and reckoned the central figure had to be her. How the picture had ended up in George Mainwaring’s house rather than Pinchbeck Hall, he couldn’t imagine.
    He examined the faces of the four children in the picture, his gaze finally focusing on the angelic toddler with the black curls and bright blue eyes who