Sabrina

by Kruger, Mary

  “What is this really about, Bainbridge?” she demanded, getting to her feet. She felt at a distinct disadvantage, with him standing over her.

  “I do not want you seeing our esteemed cousin again.”

  She stared at him. So he hadn’t discovered the theft. She didn’t know whether to be glad, or sorry. “For heaven’s sake, why? I can hardly avoid him, can I?”

  “You can, and you will. I will not tolerate his dangling after you, or anyone else, for that matter.”

  He was jealous! Sabrina thought, suddenly, and that knowledge went a long way toward moderating her anger. “What, do you fear the competition, sir?” she teased.

  “Reginald? Hardly. If you forget, Sabrina, I am your guardian. It is up to me who you will, or will not, see.” He looked down at her mutinous face, and his tone softened a little. “It’s for your own good, you know. All Reginald wants is Grandmama’s money.”

  “And he is using me as a means to get at it? Well, thank you very much, Bainbridge! Now we know how highly you rate my attractions.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Sabrina.”

  “Mr. Hailey and I are friends. That is all, and that is all it will continue to be.”

  “Friends?” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t think to cozen me, Sabrina, and don’t try my patience too far. I will not answer for the consequences,” he said, in a voice whose softness barely masked the steel beneath.

  Sabrina stared at him, beset by a mixture of emotions, anger at his presumption in telling her whom to see warring with her amusement at his obvious jealousy. “Very well, sir,” she said, capitulating suddenly. “I will see him only in the company of other people. Will that do?”

  Oliver returned her gaze, resisting the urge to rake his fingers through his hair. She was the most annoying, exasperating girl, and yet, some part of him realized she was correct. Without actually cutting Reginald, she could hardly avoid seeing him. “Very well, Sabrina. It will have to do.” His eyes searched her face, looking for something, some clue to her feelings, and finding nothing.

  “May I go, sir? I need to change for dinner,” Sabrina said, and he came out of his thoughts.

  “Yes, go,” he said, and watched her as she curtsied and walked away. At the door she paused, turned as if she would say something, and then was gone, leaving Oliver to frown after her. He would never know her, he thought, walking around his desk and sitting down to do some work. But, what was worse, he no longer knew himself.

  The Bainbridge barouche jounced along on London’s cobblestoned streets on this overcast morning, the crests on the doors gleaming dully in the weak sun. Inside Sabrina, accompanied only by her maid, looked out unseeingly. Her life was fast becoming a tangled mess, and she was not looking forward to the next hour. Thank God she had managed to get away by herself. Melanie, self-absorbed though she was, sometimes saw too much, and Sabrina wished there to be no witnesses to the meeting she was about to undertake.

  “I shan’t be long, Robert,” she said to the coachman when she alighted at Hookham’s. Walking quickly inside, she scanned the room for her quarry, and relief mingled with anxiety when she did not see him. She did not want to be here, did not wish to do what she was doing, but if it had to be done, it would be best to get it done quickly. For Letty’s benefit, though, she began to stroll along the counters, picking up a book here, turning one over there. If he weren’t here within the next five minutes, she would leave, and damn the consequences.

  “Good morning, Miss Carrick,” someone said, and she jumped. She had just begun to think she would not have to deal with him, but there he was. Laying down the book she had ostensibly been studying, she looked up at Pieter Tenbroeck, standing behind her. “I had hoped to see you here today.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Tenbroeck.” Her voice was cool, and sounded much calmer than she felt. She had feared, at Lady Holton’s rout the other evening, that he had meant to demand the document from her there, but, instead, he had arranged this meeting.

  “And are you enjoying this fine weather, ma’am?” he said, strolling along beside her.

  “Yes.” Oh, why didn’t he got to the reason why they both were there, instead of torturing her like this?

  “Pleasant that England occasionally has sunshine, isn’t it? Not at all like home. Now, you take New York—”

  “Miss Sabrina,” Letty said, and Sabrina turned to her. Letty was eyeing Tenbroeck with distinct disfavor. “We must be leaving, if you wish to be home in time for nuncheon.”

  “Of course,” Sabrina said. “It has been—interesting seeing you again, Mr. Tenbroeck, but—”

  “Having a hard time selecting your books?” he asked.

  “Yes, there’s nothing here I wish to read. But I did enjoy this.” She handed a book to him. He looked briefly startled at the title, Midnight Wedding, but as he opened the front cover and saw the piece of paper folded inside, a small, satisfied smile crossed his face.

  “Very good. I think I’ll find this—worthwhile.”

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “Of course, there is the question of my future reading.”

  Sabrina stopped in the act of turning, and sneezed. “Oh, dear! I seem to have left my reticule in the carriage. Will you get it for me, Letty?”

  “But, miss,” Letty began.

  “I shall be all right, Letty, and it will be but a moment.”

  “But, miss—”

  “Letty!”

  “Yes, miss.” Tossing a dark look over her shoulder at Tenbroeck, Letty made her way out of the lending library.

  Tenbroeck chuckled. “Very good, Miss Carrick. Now she thinks she’s participating in a secret romance.”

  “God!”

  “Oh, I find it quite amusing. Now, as to the future—”

  “I refuse to do your bidding anymore.”

  “You aren’t in a position to refuse, Miss—Carrick.”

  “Oh, cut line! I no longer care about your threats.”

  “No? But what would your guardian think if he knew about—this?” He tapped the book in his hand, and Sabrina paled. “Ah, I thought that would change your mind.”

  “What do you want of me?” she said, her voice weary. “It is very difficult to get into his study and find what you want.”

  “Oh, there’s no need for that this time. Just now, he has no papers we need.”

  “We?”

  “We Americans, of course.”

  Sabrina’s eyes narrowed. How did he know which documents Oliver would, or would not, have? “What is it you want, then?”

  “Your guardian is privy to a great deal of information in his position.”

  “Yes, so?”

  “So you must talk to him.” Sabrina’s look was questioning. “And tell me what he says.”

  “I never will!” she exclaimed, recoiling.

  “Oh, I think you will. What is the difference between this,” he tapped the book again, “and that?”

  “A great deal,” she said, in a furious whisper, “and I refuse to do it!”

  Tenbroeck gazed at her a moment, his eyes gleaming. For the life of her, Sabrina could not look away. “Very well, then, Miss Van Schuyler,” he said, finally. “It doesn’t take much to destroy a reputation, you know. A whisper here, a whisper there—”

  “Damn you.” She stared at him, her fists clenched.

  “Tut, tut, such language, Miss Carrick.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I do what I must. Well, Miss Carrick? Will you cooperate?”

  “I hope they catch you and I hope you hang!”

  “But then, you’ll hang with me, won’t you? I hope to see you again soon,” he said, in a suddenly normal voice, and Sabrina blinked.

  “Here, miss,” Letty said beside her, holding out the reticule, and, dazed, Sabrina took it. “We should be going, miss.”

  “Hm? Yes, of course, Letty,” Sabrina said.

  “Good day to you, then, Miss Carrick,” Tenbroeck said. He lifted
his hat, and then walked off, the book tucked beneath his arm and his step jaunty.

  Sabrina stared after him, her hands still clenched. “I will not do it,” she muttered. “I don’t care what he says, I will not!”

  “Will not what, miss?” Letty said. Sabrina slowly turned to her, loosening her fists, and saw that Letty was regarding her with a mixture of alarm and worry. Oh, dear, this was all she needed.

  “Nothing, Letty.” She made her voice brisk. “Come, I must select something for Grandmama, and then we shall go.”

  “Yes, miss.” Letty trailed after Sabrina as she walked along, picking books almost at random. It was a relief to leave the bookshop and return to the Bainbridge barouche, to head for home. For a while, at least, she would be safe.

  Across the street from Hookham’s, Reginald pursed his lips in a silent whistle as the carriage drove away, with Sabrina and Letty inside. When he had stopped into Bainbridge House for a morning visit and learned that Sabrina had gone to the lending library alone, he had thought that a circumstance worthy of investigation. He had been right, but he had not expected what he had found. Just as he had been about to cross the street, Mr. Tenbroeck had come out of Hookham’s, looking smugly satisfied. Sabrina had followed a few moments later. He would almost have thought they’d had an assignation, were Sabrina’s face not so pale. Something was going on between those two. If he could find out what it was, perhaps he could turn it to his own advantage, and to Sabrina’s disadvantage. Certainly it was worth pursuing.

  Clasping his walking stick, he set off down the street, in the same direction as Tenbroeck.

  “Penny for your thoughts, Sabrina,” Oliver said, and Sabrina, riding beside him, looked up.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?” she said, drawing back slightly on the reins. It was early morning. The park, where they were riding, was empty, and Daisy, Sabrina’s mount, quite obviously was frisky.

  “You’re quiet this morning.”

  “I thought that was what you wanted, sir.”

  “Don’t be impertinent.”

  For answer, Sabrina set her mount to a trot, and, after a moment, Oliver followed, his brow slightly furrowed. It had long been his custom to ride in the early morning, to enjoy some time to himself before plunging into his usually busy day. Those quiet rides were in the past, though. At first he was afraid he’d made a mistake, inviting Sabrina to accompany him, but soon he learned differently. She was an ideal companion. When he wanted to talk, she listened, occasionally adding comments of her own; when he wished to forget all his duties for a time, she was, accordingly, cheerful; and when, as now, he wanted to be quiet, she was quiet.

  Too quiet. He glanced over as he caught up with her, and saw again the distant look in her eyes and the pucker in her forehead. Gwendolyn was not the only person who had noticed that something was bothering Sabrina these days, and she was not the only one who was worried about it. The devil of it was, how was he to handle it? Sabrina, he was certain, saw him as a stern parent, the aloof guardian he had always tried to be, rather than fiancé or companion, and if that were so, she would not be inclined to confide in him.

  He couldn’t bear the look on her face any longer. “Race you to that tree,” he called

  Sabrina’s face brightened. “You’re on!” she cried, and in an instant both were galloping, bent low over their horses’ necks. Though Sabrina’s mare was not the match of Oliver’s mount, a splendid chestnut named Thunder, she pulled slightly ahead.

  “Sabrina,” Oliver shouted. “Look up ahead.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, startled, and for a brief second pulled her mount up. In that second Oliver swept past her, gaining enough advantage to reach the tree first. “Not fair, Oliver!”

  He grinned at her as she approached him. “No, but I won, and that’s all that matters. Don’t pout.”

  “I know. It doesn’t become me,” she said, taking off her hat, a dashing cap styled like a military shako, and shaking her head. Her hair, loosened from the race, streamed free and golden over her shoulders, and for the life of him Oliver could not look away.

  “It does not,” he said, severely, “and neither does that hair. Pin it up.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her riding habit strained across her breasts as she reached up to fix her hair, and he turned away. With his back was to her, Oliver allowed himself to relax. There, that was better; the look of strain was gone from her eyes. Someday, perhaps, she would tell him what was wrong, but, for now, it was enough to have made her forget about it for a moment.

  He was congratulating himself on the way he had handled that situation when she shot past him, going faster than he had ever thought Daisy could go. Oh, good Lord, her mount was running away with her! he thought, and dug his heels into Thunder’s sides, galloping after her. She had a good lead, and he tried to concentrate on riding, tried to ignore the hard lump in his throat and the constriction in his stomach, tried not to be terrified. In his mind he saw her, lying hurt and broken beneath a tree, or under the wheels of a carriage. If she should fall—

  He caught up with her at last, and, reaching out, grabbed her bridle. Her horse shied away, but he held on, grimly, and at last they both came to a stop, breathing heavily. His heart was somewhere in the region of his throat.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Sabrina asked, and as his vision cleared he realized that she was staring at him in surprise.

  “Good God, how did you ever allow Daisy to run away with you like that?” he gasped, trying to calm his breathing.

  “Run away? Is that what you thought? Oh, Oliver!” She pulled away from him and leaned over to pat her horse’s neck. “Daisy never ran away with anyone. Don’t you know that?”

  “You mean—that was deliberate?”

  “I wanted a gallop, Oliver.”

  “You could have been hurt!”

  “Would you have cared?” she shot back.

  “Yes, damn it!”

  “I would never have guessed,” she retorted, and for a moment an odd expression crossed his face. She could almost swear he was hurt.

  “One of these days, Sabrina, I am going to give you the beating of your life,” he said, softly, and she gazed at his lips, very close.

  “Really?” she whispered, raising her eyes to his. He gazed into their depths for a moment and then, abruptly, wheeled away.

  “Yes. Don’t try me.”

  “Oh, pooh!” She rode a few paces away and then stopped, to bundle up her hair again. “Oh, bother!” she exclaimed, and he glanced over at her. She was having little success with her hair, which kept straggling down in spite of all her best efforts. “I begin to believe I should cut this hair.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” Oliver said.

  Sabrina looked up at him in surprise, and though her mouth was full of hairpins, her expression softened. “Poor Oliver,” she said, completely misinterpreting his reaction. “It must be a dreadful trial to you, having a ward like me?”

  “Terrible.” By a great effort, he made his tone match hers in lightness. “What I ever did to deserve you, infant—”

  Sabrina made a face. “I wish you would not call me that.”

  “No?”

  “No.” He was looking at her with a little half-smile, and it did funny things to her, making her heart beat faster. It was such a strange feeling that she had to turn away. “If it’s all the same to you, Bainbridge, I think I’ll leave my hair down.”

  “Certainly.” Clucking softly, he set his horse to a walk, and Sabrina followed. That strange look was gone from his face, so completely that she wondered if she had imagined it. “What are your plans for today, Sabrina?”

  “Oh, the usual, I imagine. Receiving morning visitors, perhaps a little shopping, and attending some rout or other tonight. It is all dreadfully fatiguing.”

  She sounded so like a spoiled London beauty that Oliver grinned at her. “How terrible to be so enormously popular, Sabrina.”

  “Oh, yes, it is quite wearying, being
the toast of the town. I am like to sink with exhaustion.”

  “And you love every minute of it.”

  Sabrina’s dimple peeked through. “Of course I do,” she said, and for a moment they smiled, quite in charity with each other. “And what of your plans, sir? We rarely see you these days.”

  “There’s much to do.”

  “That serious, sir?” she said, caught by the solemn look on his face.

  “Yes, Sabrina, it is that serious. Thank God Wellington finally appears to be doing something in the Peninsula, but nothing else is going right. I very much fear we shall be at war with your country before the year is out.”

  “Can’t something be done to stop it?”

  Oliver shook his head. “I doubt it. Oh, of course we have continued our negotiations with the American chargè. Mr. Russell doesn’t want war any more than we do, but when both sides are adamant, the best one can do is prepare.”

  “I see. But with troops already on the continent—”

  “If things continue going well in the Peninsula, we may be able to divert some troops from there to America.”

  Sabrina looked startled; this was news to her. “And if not?”

  “We will manage. And we have something you don’t have.” She looked blank. “Our navy. If worst comes to worst, we will completely blockade your country.”

  “Oh.” Sabrina looked thoughtful. “You really are prepared to fight, aren’t you.

  “Of course.” He sounded surprised. “We do not want this quarrel, Sabrina, but since it is being forced on us, we have no intention of losing it. I’m sorry.” His voice softened at the look on her face. “I realize it is still your country, but we are fighting for our very lives here, against Napoleon. We can’t afford to waste time and effort fighting your country, as well.”

  “I see.” She raised anxious eyes to him. “There is nothing to be done, then?”

  “I’m afraid not, Sabrina. I’m sorry. You’re not to repeat any of this, mind.”

  “Of course not!” She managed to look shocked. Nothing to be done, but she was doing something, playing Tenbroeck’s games, and never had that thought made her feel so low as now, when Oliver had confided in her with perfect trust. She squirmed in her saddle, and Daisy, guessing her mood, danced about a bit.