by Anne Herries
‘I have it ready. It was my intention to give it to you in the morning.’ Leaving her door ajar, Sarah walked to her desk, pulled open the bottom drawer and took out her writing box. She took the key from the pocket of her robe and opened the box, extracting the slim paper sealed with wax. As she turned, she saw that he had followed her in and closed the door and her breath caught in her throat. ‘Lord Myers … should you have done that?’
‘Probably not,’ he said. ‘You look so lovely, Sarah. You make me want to do this …’ Before she knew what he was about, he reached out and drew her into his arms, lowering his head to kiss her on the mouth. It was a sweet soft kiss that made her pulses race, but she stepped back, putting her fingers to her lips.
‘You must not. You really must not, sir.’
‘Rupert. Please, call me Rupert.’
‘You should go at once. This is impossible.’
‘Is it really so impossible, Sarah?’
‘You know it is. It must be … in the circumstances.’
Did he think she was prepared to have an affair with him? What was he thinking of? Did he imagine that she would become his mistress out of gratitude? The thought was painful and she pushed it to a tiny corner of her mind.
‘Have you been drinking, Rupert?’ She could taste the brandy on his lips.
‘Yes, just a little,’ he said and then laughed ruefully. ‘Too much. The way you look and the wine … a powerful combination, my dear. Forgive me. I am merely human—and you are very desirable. You do not realise the effect that cool exterior with just a hint of the fire below can have on a man. Thank you for the letter and your trust. Goodnight and sleep well.’
‘Goodnight, Rupert.’
Sarah closed the door behind him, pressing fingers that trembled slightly to her mouth. His kiss had been so sweet—so tempting. She had wanted it to go on … to be so much more than a kiss. A hunger so swift and so powerful swept over her that she cried out as if in pain. She had never felt like this before in her life, never wanted anything so badly that it hurt. Her whole being longed to call him back, to take him by the hand and lead him to her bed.
No, she would not be foolish. Rupert had admitted that it was merely the wine and the sight of her in her nightclothes. He was a confirmed rake and accustomed to taking a mistress whenever he chose. She must not condemn him for a mere slip of manners. He had not tried to force himself on her and had apologised for his lapse.
Sarah’s problem was not that he had insulted her by kissing her, but that she had wanted more. Earlier she had been regretting that he kept a distance between them. Her heart had leaped at his touch, but her good sense had told her she could not conduct an affair with him while they were both staying under the same roof as Francesca. It would be most improper and might lead to a scandal that could reflect badly on the young woman.
Would she have had an affair with him if it hadn’t been for Francesca’s reputation? Sarah thought about it as she slid into bed and pulled up the covers. Her lips still tingled, and at the thought of the caresses that might have been, the rest of her body felt suffused with heat. She was desperately attracted to him. His absence these next few days would cause her grief, but his presence might be even more distressing.
Sarah had promised to stay with Francesca until she’d had her Season in town. In return, Lord Myers was sorting out her problems. She could not renege on her bargain even if she wanted to—so she was just going to have to keep a tight rein on her emotions.
Alone in his own room, Rupert threw himself down on the bed, lying staring at the ceiling. What had possessed him to kiss her that way? She’d looked so delectable in her night attire that he’d been seized with a sudden need. Had she not drawn away from him, he might have carried her to the bed and made passionate love to her, thereby sealing both their fates.
He’d flirted with Lady Rowton that evening in an effort to put Sarah out of his mind, but she had taken root there and was beginning to haunt him day and night.
Surely he wasn’t thinking of marrying her? Taking her as his mistress was not an option now that they had become friends and he knew she was a respectable young woman.
It was marriage or nothing. Was he ready to cast off his past and take that step? Was he ready to trust again?
As well that he was going away on her business and his own. He needed time to get things into perspective and decide where his future lay.
Chapter Nine
‘Monsieur Dupree is so funny,’ Francesca said as they picked roses for the house that morning, clipping the long stems and taking care not to prick themselves as they placed the buds carefully in their baskets. ‘But he’s sweet, too—and he likes you so much, Sarah.’
‘I agree that he is charming. I hope you are not infatuated, dearest?’
Francesca laughed delightedly. ‘Oh, he doesn’t want to seduce me. Andre has far too much sense. He knows that he must make his living and any such nonsense would result in his being dismissed without a reference. He might never work again. No, you are the one he wants to seduce, Sarah. He says you are a rose without compare.’
‘Well, he is French,’ Sarah said and her friend went into another peal of laughter. ‘Besides, I told you. I need a widower—a nice sensible English gentleman who will take care of my business.’
‘I still cannot believe how rich you are,’ Francesca said and inhaled the perfume of a dark red rose. ‘It is such a romantic story—you coming here to escape a persistent fortune hunter. I was so lucky that you changed places with Miss Goodrum. If you hadn’t, we might never have met.’
‘I should have regretted that,’ Sarah said and looked at her with affection, feeling glad she had decided to confide her whole story in the girl. ‘I think these past weeks have been some of the happiest of my life.’
The one thing to mar her content was the way she felt about Lord Myers. A part of her wanted to give in to the need he aroused in her, but she knew that she would be a fool to give her body—and perhaps her heart—to a rake.
‘Do you think we have enough roses?’
‘Yes, quite enough, because it’s nice to have fresh ones often. Shall we go and arrange them …?’ She paused as they turned the corner to the front of the house. ‘It seems we have visitors … .’ Two gentlemen had just dismounted and grooms were leading their horses away.
‘I wonder who it can be?’ Francesca said and her eyes sparkled. They had received visits from most of their neighbours in the past week and Francesca was enjoying herself, because several gentlemen had been paying her compliments. ‘Oh, I do believe it is Mr Monks.’
Sarah smothered a sigh, because Francesca looked so pleased. The young man had visited three times already and seemed intent on fixing his interest with Francesca, though as yet Sarah was not sure how she felt.
‘There’s someone with him … I think it’s Sir Roger. He must have come down for a visit.’
Sarah’s throat caught as she looked at the second gentleman and knew him. It was the very man she’d come here to avoid. Could he know she was here or was it a coincidence?
The gentlemen had become aware of them and turned to wait for them to reach the steps leading up to the portico. James Monks had eyes only for Francesca, but Sir Roger was staring at Sarah, his gaze narrowed and intent. Sarah felt certain he’d known she was here all the time.
‘Ah, Miss Hardcastle, Miss Francesca,’ James Monks said and bowed. ‘I was sure you would not mind my bringing Sir Roger with me? He was most anxious to present himself when he knew you were staying with the Merrivale family, Miss Hardcastle.’
‘Mr Monks … Sir Roger.’ Sarah gave both gentlemen an equally cool nod. She had not told Francesca the name of her persistent admirer and so the girl was completely unaware as she greeted their guests with a warm smile and invited them to stay to nuncheon.
‘Will you not come in, Sir Roger—James? You must stay to eat with us. It will be a simple meal, but we shall be happy to share it with you, shall we not, Sarah?
’
Sarah could only agree to Francesca’s request, though her stomach was tying itself in knots as Sir Roger inclined his head, his gaze narrowed and wary.
‘Miss Hardcastle—Sarah, how pleasant to see you again, and you, Miss Francesca.’
‘I trust you are well, sir?’
‘Not as well as I might have been had a certain person smiled on me more,’ Sir Roger said in a low voice as the others went ahead into the house. ‘Forgive me if this visit makes you uncomfortable. Should I go away at once? Or may I hope that you will allow me to renew my offer? I know the ladies like to change their minds.’
‘Not this one,’ Sarah said and gave him a straight look. ‘Forgive me, sir, but I shall be blunt. I do not wish for another offer from you and my answer remains the same.’
‘You are hard, Sarah. My feelings have been hurt by your coldness. I find it difficult to enjoy life as I was wont to do—I must languish in your shadow since you will have none of me.’
Sarah felt a rising impatience. How many times must she tell this man that she had no interest in becoming his wife? If she had been at home, she might have been rude, but she was a guest here and could not insult Francesca’s guest. The girl had invited him to eat with them and Sarah would simply have to endure his company as best she could.
‘If we are to remain friends, sir, I would ask you not to flatter me with insincere compliments.’
‘Surely you do not accuse me of insincerity?’ Sir Roger looked indignant and for a moment she saw anger in his eyes, which was quickly hidden behind a false smile. ‘I assure you, my feelings have always been completely sincere.’
Sarah refused to answer. It was impossible when he seemed determined to ignore her refusal. All she could do was to remain cool and indifferent, to hope that he would eventually tire of being rebuffed.
John was in the front parlour with the dancing master. They had taken a book of plays from the library and Monsieur Dupree was declaiming aloud from one of Shakespeare’s works as they entered, which made Sarah smile inwardly as the words sounded very different in a French accent.
‘I must give these roses to one of the maids to put in water,’ she said, excusing herself. ‘I shall return in a moment.’
She wished that she might take the time to arrange the flowers herself, but she could not leave Francesca to cope with the visitors alone and returned quickly, to find them all laughing and discussing the book of plays. Apparently, the gentlemen fancied themselves as actors and it seemed they were amusing Francesca by vying for her attention.
‘We should put on a play in the gardens,’ Francesca said. ‘We could all act out parts and entertain our neighbours.’
‘What a wonderful idea,’ James Monks said and sent her a look of foppish adoration. ‘You would be adorable as the fairy queen, Francesca.’
‘Are you reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream? ‘Sarah asked. ‘It is one of my favourites—so amusing. I like it when she falls in love with Bottom …’
‘You must play the queen,’ Francesca urged.
‘I should not like to take the leading part, but will take on the role of one of her attendants.’
‘I shall be Bottom,’ Sir Roger said. ‘‘Tis vastly amusing, I vow.’
‘No, no, I could not. Besides, the play is far too long and we should never learn all the words.’
‘We could play just the scene where Titania awakes to find herself bewitched,’ Francesca said. ‘I think it is so funny because she loves Bottom despite the fact that he has been turned into a donkey.’
‘Mais non, it is a tragedy,’ Monsieur Dupree objected. ‘The pauvre lady is bewitched as a punishment by her so-cruel husband.’
His words were greeted by heated exchanges and the next few minutes passed pleasantly enough, as all the aspects of the play were discussed and analysed. Sarah was pleased to see that Francesca held her own, having read the play with her, and relieved that by the time they had all been called to nuncheon and eaten their meal in a spirit of festivity, the idea of actually performing the play had been forgotten.
By the time the gentlemen took their leave, Sarah had relaxed sufficiently to forget to be on her guard and it was something of a shock when Sir Roger held her hand too long and then raised it to his lips.
‘I shall visit you again soon, Sarah.’
‘Francesca is always pleased to see her guests.’
The look he gave her was supposed to be ardent, but to Sarah it merely seemed menacing. Even if Monsieur Dupree liked her for herself, she was convinced that Sir Roger wanted something from her.
She shivered and wished that Lord Myers was here rather than on what might prove a wild goose chase. If Sir Roger wanted the mills, she believed that he might be willing to hire a rogue to either frighten her into signing or … might he actually want her dead?
If Sarah were dead, her uncle would sell to the highest bidder.
She was relieved when both gentlemen turned away and she returned to the house. About to go in search of Francesca, who had gone to look for a book she wanted, Sarah was surprised when Monsieur Dupree waylaid her in the hall.
‘A moment of your time, non?’
‘Was there something I can do for you, monsieur?’
‘It is I who may perhaps do something for you, mademoiselle.’ The Frenchman’s dark eyes dwelled on her face with something like adoration. ‘I think you did not like the so-charming Sir Roger? He distresses you, non?’
‘I would not say I was distressed, monsieur—merely wary. I should not like to be left alone with that gentleman.’
‘No, of a certainty,’ he replied and made a face of disgust. ‘If the so-charming Sir Roger attempts to force his attentions on you, Mademoiselle Sarah, you may call on Andre Dupree. With the pistol I am—how you say?—a dead shot.’ He made a shooting motion. ‘I will kill him if he harms you.’
Sarah resisted the temptation to laugh, because, looking at his expression, she could see that he was in earnest.
‘You are very kind to offer your protection, monsieur—but I hardly think we need come to such measures. Sir Roger is a nuisance, but I think I am able to fend off his advances.’
‘If he harms you, he will answer to me.’ Andre took a step towards her, quite clearly intending to make his devotion to Sarah’s cause even plainer, but before he could speak the knocker sounded and in the next moment the footman had opened the door to Lord Myers.
‘You are back, my lord.’ Sarah turned to him, a smile of welcome on her lips. She felt relief surge within her and something more. How much she wished she could run to his arms and give him a welcome-home kiss.
‘Yes, Sarah, I have returned.’ Rupert’s brows arched. ‘Have I been missed?’
‘You must always be missed—’ Sarah would have said more, but at that moment John came flying into the hall and threw himself at Rupert, giving him an exuberant hug. ‘I saw you from the window. You’ve been gone such an age.’
‘Nine days, I think.’ Rupert laughed and disentangled himself. ‘Steady on, old chap. Surely things are not so bad?’
‘Oh, I’ve had loads of lessons and I like being with Fran, Sarah and Monsieur Dupree—but no one is like you. I’ve missed my fencing lessons.’
‘Well, you shall have one tomorrow,’ Rupert promised. ‘I might have a gift for you in my trunk—but if you continue to ruin my coat I shall consider whether to give it to you.’
‘You wouldn’t.’ John saw he was smiling and laughed, but stood back. ‘I’ll keep you to your word about the fencing.’ He turned to the dancing master. ‘Will you give me another French lesson, monsieur? It sounds so much better when you speak the language.’
‘Oui, mon petit,’ the Frenchman said. ‘Come, we shall go to the library and find a book of French plays.’
Rupert glanced at Sarah. ‘I see our dancing master has many talents. I think he has relieved me of some of my duties.’
‘But not all. John is willing to accept a substitute when you are not her
e, but of course we all miss you. Francesca was only asking this morning when you would return.’
‘Your affairs took me a little longer than I had anticipated, but I am able to set your mind at rest concerning Mr Arkwright. It was not he that made you an offer. He has bought more mills and now has all he requires.’
‘So it was not he that made it? You are certain?’
‘Oh, I think you may be sure of it. He was reluctant to speak to me at first, but I persuaded him to my way of thinking. I made it clear that you have placed your affairs in my hands and that—should anything untoward happen to you—your estate would be subject to many trusts and clauses that would make it difficult to buy. He told me in no uncertain terms that he could not give a brass monkey’s …’
‘Then I may forget him. How good of you to take so much trouble over my affairs,’ Sarah said. ‘I am not sure how I may thank you.’
‘Do not trouble yourself over it. If I needed a reward, I would ask.’ His gaze intensified. ‘You still look troubled—has something happened while I was gone?’
‘Sir Roger visited in the company of James Monks this morning. He seems to imagine that if he persists in his pursuit it is only a matter of time before I cave in.’
‘I shall speak to the man—and, if need be, give him a thrashing.’
‘No, you must not. If I am unable to make him see I shall never give into his blandishments, I might ask you to warn him—but no violence.’ Sarah smiled. ‘Monsieur Dupree has already offered to shoot him for me if he attempts to seduce me.’
‘Indeed? And what business is it of his? You are not considering him as a husband, I hope?’
‘No, of course not. He is a pleasant young man—but perhaps a little young for me. Not much more than two and twenty I would imagine.’
‘And you are so long in the tooth, of course—four and twenty? Five and twenty?’
‘I was five and twenty on my last birthday,’ Sarah replied, a little smile on her lips. Her pulses raced and she felt a surge of joy. Oh, she had missed this banter so much. It was wonderful to have him home, even if his expression was already a little stormy. ‘No, I dare say I am no great age—but some people think a woman is on the shelf if she is much past twenty.’
