by Anne Herries
‘If I ‘ave your approval, Miss Sarah, I am the ‘appiest of men.’
The look in his eyes had given Sarah some qualms. She could not be certain for it was early days yet, but she rather thought he might be flirting with her. Lord Myers had feared he might try to seduce Francesca, but Sarah suspected she might be the object of the Frenchman’s amorous intentions. She hoped not, for she would have to deter him and that made for an uncomfortable atmosphere in the house.
However, for the moment he made no advances, though he was swift to open a door, pull out a chair or compliment her. Sarah thanked him while maintaining a cool but friendly manner.
On the day of the picnic she could not help but be glad of his help, for he voluntarily took on the management of the games for the children, leaving Sarah and Francesca with little to do but present the prizes.
Lord Rupert had greeted all the guests, introducing them to Sarah and to Francesca using just Christian names. She noticed that he allowed people to think of her as Francesca’s companion rather than a normal governess, who would naturally have remained in the background.
‘I am delighted to see Francesca looking so happy,’ Lady Rowton said to Sarah when they stood watching some of the sports. ‘At Christmas when Merrivale was here she seemed a little dispirited. You have been good for her, Miss … I did not quite catch your name?’
‘Sarah Hardcastle,’ Sarah said without thinking, then realised what she’d done. ‘Please, call me Sarah. Everyone does.’
‘How delightfully informal. I shall do so in the spirit of the occasion, my dear. It is a pleasure to see the girl happy—and her brother. You have worked a little miracle.’
Sarah thanked her. Since she’d given her own name there was no point in hiding it and she decided to give the housekeeper a curtailed version of her story that evening. It was best if everyone understood she was in the house as a friend rather than an employed governess.
All of their neighbours seemed friendly people, including Squire Browning and his lady, Mr Honiton and his sister Gillian, the Monks family of three lively children and Mr Monks’s brother James, also his wife Susan. At least thirty of the family’s acquaintances had accepted invitations and Sarah had difficulty in recalling all the names, but Mr James Monks had made himself known to her.
‘I say, you’re rather pretty,’ he said as he joined her when she was applauding John and one of his nephews in the egg-and-spoon race. ‘This is quite jolly. How long have you been staying with the Merrivales?’
‘Only a few weeks,’ Sarah replied, amused to find herself being quizzed through an eyeglass. The young man was quite a fop, a tulip of fashion if she were not mistaken. ‘I am glad you are enjoying yourself, sir.’
‘One needs a spot of entertainment in the country, what? I find it dull after the town, don’t you know.’
‘Oh, I think there is so much to do in the country. Do you not like walking and riding, sir?’
‘Well, I dare say that is well enough …’ His attention was drawn to Francesca as she presented the prize for the race her brother had lost by falling over just before the line. ‘Growing up, ain’t she? I imagine the old marquess intends leaving her a bit in his will, what?’
‘I’m afraid I have no idea,’ Sarah said. Something about the man made her take him in instant dislike. ‘Francesca will have her Season, but I have no idea of her prospects, sir. I think she will marry well whether she has a fortune or not.’
‘Oh, I say. Only an idle question, you know.’
He wandered away, clearly annoyed with her for taking him up on the remark. As she watched, he approached Francesca and said something, which made the girl smile. She was frowning and did not notice Rupert approach.
‘Was he annoying you just now?’
Sarah started and glanced at him. ‘He was speculating on whether or not the marquess intended to leave Francesca a fortune.’
‘Was he indeed?’ Rupert glowered in the direction of the young fop. ‘Impudent pup! I dare say he has run through the fortune his grandfather left him and is hanging out for a rich wife. I’d heard he was rusticating because his creditors were dunning him. Watch him if he comes calling while I’m away.’
‘I would hope Francesca would have more sense than to be taken in by someone like him.’
‘I’m not so sure. She seems to be enjoying his company.’
Sarah saw that the girl had taken his arm and was going in search of a drink. The maids had just brought out trays of iced lemon barley and orange juice for the younger members of the party. For the older guests there was champagne and a cool white wine.
‘I think Francesca will be courted by many gentlemen,’ Sarah said. ‘She is lovely of face and nature. Once she comes out I think she will be very popular with the gentlemen. I have spoken to her about these things and I think she has enough sense not to let anyone seduce her.’
‘Well, that is all we can hope for.’ Rupert’s eyes came back to Sarah. ‘Are you enjoying yourself? Lady Rowton described you as Miss Hardcastle—have you told anyone else yet?’
‘I shall explain to Mrs Brancaster tonight and hope that she will forgive me.’
‘I am sure she will. I dare say she will understand if you explain you were in need of a place to hide. It may be best if she believes I have been aware of the truth all the time.’
‘Yes.’ Sarah looked at him uncertainly. ‘Have you forgiven me for lying to you?’
His brows rose and his smile was absent. ‘The jury is out, Sarah. I shall reserve judgement until I see how you conduct yourself in future.’
She caught her lower lip between her teeth, feeling unaccountably near to tears. ‘I am sorry to have lost your good opinion—if I ever had it?’
‘I am teasing you,’ he said and smiled, sending her heart rocketing. ‘Not that I condone lying, for I generally abhor it—but I believe I understand why you did what you did.’
‘Thank you.’ Her throat caught. When he smiled like that it was enough to break her heart—but she must never forget that he could never wish to marry a woman of her class. At one time he had considered seducing her, but that was when he believed her an adventuress. Since she’d confided the truth in him, he had treated her as he would any other lady, showing her politeness, but keeping a certain distance between them.
It was all she could expect, of course. Sarah suspected that her own heart was not untouched and she knew that her heart raced whenever he smiled down at her. However, he had given her no reason to think he might feel anything more for her than the natural concern of a gentleman for a woman in trouble.
Why did he guard his heart so well? Sarah wondered about the woman who had hurt him. She must be very lovely—and a lady, of course. Sarah was neither of those things. Why should he ever look at her?
He had thought of seduction, but he was a self-confessed rake and she could not think a light affair with a governess would have meant anything to him.
Her breath in her throat, she fought her own desire to rest her head against those broad shoulders.
‘Will you be gone long, sir?’
‘I’m not sure—at least a week, I imagine, possibly a little more.’
‘John will miss you—and Francesca.’
‘I think John has already found a good substitute in Monsieur Dupree.’
Sarah followed his gaze. ‘He has certainly been a great help today. Some dancing masters would consider games with the children beneath them, but Monsieur Dupree has proved his worth.’
‘Do you like him? Do you trust him?’
‘Yes, to both questions.’ Sarah glanced up questioningly. ‘Do you doubt him for any reason?’
‘None—except experience. When my sister was young her dancing master attempted to run off with her. She was foolishly infatuated with him and would have eloped had I not discovered his little plan. I paid him to disappear and he took the money.’
‘Your sister must have been in some distress?’
‘For a time,
I believe, but she soon recovered once she became the toast of the town. She fell in love with a decent man and is very happy—so do not think me a monster for sending her would-be lover away.’
‘I think you may rest easy in your mind. Monsieur Dupree has shown no interest in seducing Francesca. In fact, he seems—’ She broke off and shook her head.
‘What were you about to say?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Please do not lie to me, Sarah. If you know something, tell me.’
‘I was about to say he has shown more inclination to flirt with me—but that sounds conceited.’
‘I trust you gave him no encouragement?’
‘No, of course not. Why on earth should I?’
‘He would not make you a suitable husband, Sarah. You must look higher than a dancing master, even if he is handsome.’
He sounded a little put out, which made her smile, but when she looked at him she saw no sign of jealousy, just annoyance.
She put her chin up at him. ‘I have no intention of it—and please do not lecture the poor man. He has merely been charming. I should not have mentioned it.’
He nodded, but his frown did not lessen. ‘You should think carefully before you make your choice. I know your preference is for a widower with a family. I have been giving the matter some thought and when I return I may be able to introduce you to certain gentlemen of merit. You would do well to choose wisely and not let yourself be charmed by a dancing master.’
‘Thank you.’ Sarah’s smile felt fixed. She was grateful for his help, of course she was—but how could she consider any candidate he might produce as a suitable husband when she was beginning to think … But she was being so foolish! Lord Myers was not for her. Even if his smile could make her pulses go wild, it was merely the foolishness of a lonely woman. Once she met other gentlemen she would soon discover that Lord Myers meant nothing to her.
‘Excuse me, I must see that the children all have enough to eat and drink. Shall we see you at dinner this evening, Lord Myers?’
‘Yes, of course.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘What have I said now, Sarah? I do not mean to dictate to you—but you did say that you needed help with your problems?’
‘Yes, I do and I’m grateful. You have said nothing to upset me, sir—nothing at all.’
It was her fault for allowing her imagination to provide her with pictures of the kind of marriage she would most enjoy—because his was unaccountably the face she saw every time she considered the idea.
Dressing that evening, Rupert frowned at himself in the mirror. Why had he made the offer to find a suitable husband for Sarah? Had his pride been hurt because she seemed to favour the dancing master? It was really none of his business whom she chose to marry for she could never mean anything to him—or could she?
Rupert pondered the thought. He had considered himself uninterested in marriage, knowing that he must marry one day for the purpose of getting an heir, but he’d deliberately shut the idea from his mind. The right woman would present herself to his notice one day in the future and then … But perhaps he need look no further. Sarah had aroused feelings of hot lust in him and something more. If he wanted a wife to be a companion in his advancing years and to give him a family, why not her as well as any other?
He frowned at himself in the mirror. No, it was impossible. Sarah deserved more than he could give her. She ought to have love and the kind of happiness that comes from such a marriage—and yet she was considering a marriage of convenience.
He’d promised to help her find a husband and he must keep his word, bring some of his friends down so that she could meet them and perhaps find a man she wished to marry. A part of him persisted in thinking that it might suit him to marry her, but there was still a barrier in his mind—still a part of him that was wary of taking the irrevocable step of asking any woman to be his wife.
A handful of their neighbours had stayed to dine that evening. Lady Rowton was one, Squire Browning, his wife and Mr Honiton and his sister, also the Reverend Hoskins. Sarah found herself placed between the vicar and the squire, who was a little hard of hearing and tended to boom at her.
Sarah had answered all the questions directed at her, but was conscious of watching Rupert for much of the evening. He had been the perfect host, keeping everyone amused and making sure that it all went smoothly. She had noticed that he paid attention to all the ladies, but particularly to Lady Rowton. The lady was more than thirty, but still youthful in her looks and attractive, her smile warm whenever she had replied to something Rupert said to her.
‘Did you notice Rupert flirting with Lady Rowton?’ Francesca whispered as they went into the drawing room later. ‘I think they had an affair a year or two ago. It was just after her husband died—and I heard Grandfather telling someone that Lord Myers was consoling her.’
‘You mustn’t repeat overheard gossip, dearest,’ Sarah said.
‘Very well.’ Francesca’s eyes sparkled. ‘Then I shan’t tell you what Monsieur Dupree said about you.’
‘Please do not, and do not tease,’ Sarah said, but she was laughing. She had noticed the dancing master looking at her several times during the evening, even though he’d been seated next to Miss Honiton.
Monsieur Dupree had no notion of her being an heiress. He imagined her a friend of the family, not quite a governess, but not the heiress to a fortune. That must mean he liked her for herself alone. The idea was novel and pleasing. It made Sarah smile to think that a young and handsome man found her attractive for her own sake and, when she discovered him staring at her, she smiled.
Glancing then at Lord Myers, she saw him scowling and wondered what had caused him to look so annoyed. Surely not because she’d smiled at the dancing master? Sarah might be flattered by the young man’s admiration, but her heart was completely untouched. He was not at all the kind of husband she would ever consider—though she did quite enjoy being flirted with across the table.
When the ladies were assembled and tea was served, Francesca was asked if she would play for the company.
‘Only if Sarah plays a duet with me,’ she said, blushing prettily.
‘Yes, of course,’ Sarah agreed and took a seat beside her on the stool.
‘Allow me to turn your music, mesdemoiselles,’ Monsieur Dupree said, coming up to them with alacrity. ‘I will sing later if Mademoiselle Sarah will play for me.’
Sarah could not do less than agree. She and Francesca played a lively melody, then the girl got up and left the entertainment to Sarah. After some discussion, it was decided that Monsieur Dupree would sing ‘Greensleeves’ in English and in French.
He proved to have a delightful voice and they were asked for three encores. He sang two further songs in French and then a love song in English.
At the end of this melody Sarah rose from the pianoforte and walked away, leaving Monsieur Dupree to take over. His playing was as proficient as his singing and she was about to say goodnight to Francesca when Rupert came up to her.
‘His song was for you,’ he said. ‘I think you have made another conquest, Sarah.’
‘Another? I assure you none of my other admirers have wanted me for myself.’
‘Can you be sure of that? Might you have misjudged some of them?’
Sarah wrinkled her brow. ‘Perhaps. I thought it was all Father’s money, but some of them …’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘I had no interest in any of them, even if—’
‘I’ve told you before, you should not sell yourself short.’
‘I have no intention of doing so. I like Monsieur Dupree, but I have no intention of listening to an offer from him—of any kind.’
‘That’s very much better. I like to see my Sarah standing proud.’
His Sarah! A tingle went down her spine and her stomach clenched. What could he mean—his Sarah? For a moment a feeling of joy spread through her. If he cared for her … But, no, his attention had wandered. He was watching Francesca, who had gone to join the dancing master at the pianoforte. The two of t
hem were now playing together and seemed to be amusing themselves with the lively piece.
Sarah squashed the nonsensical hope. Lord Myers was a gentleman and it had merely been a figure of speech. When he looked at her again it was merely to raise a quizzical eyebrow.
He was still treating her as Francesca’s equal, a young woman of some consequence. Sarah almost regretted telling him the truth. He had shown more interest in her when he’d believed her an adventuress.
Alone in her room, Sarah undressed and sat before the mirror, wearing a soft robe. She hadn’t been able to part from all her clothes when she left her trunks behind and had brought her own under- and night-things, because no one was going to see her when she was alone in her room.
Sitting before the mirror, she brushed her hair so that it fell on her shoulders, shining and straight with just a little curl at the ends. She wasn’t truly tired and was regretting that she hadn’t thought to bring a book up with her. It would be easy enough to walk down to the library, but she could not bother to dress again and did not think it appropriate to wander at night in her night robes.
She was just about to retire when she heard the tap at the door, stopped and walked to it, her hand on the catch as she said, ‘Yes, who is it?’
‘Rupert. May I speak to you for a moment, please?’
Sarah’s heart pounded as she opened the door. What could he mean by coming to her room? She felt her pulses race as she saw him standing there, still dressed for the evening. Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming longing for him to take her in his arms and kiss her. It would undoubtedly lead to him seducing her, but at that moment she almost felt it worthwhile.
‘You are ready for bed. Forgive me for disturbing you—but I am leaving very early in the morning. You were going to give me a letter to your agent. I suppose with the picnic and then our guests for the evening you forgot?’
