Sabrina

by Kruger, Mary

  It had been easy to avoid seeing Tenbroeck since she had decided not to feed him anymore information. Society’s rules dictated that a young lady was not allowed to go about unescorted. Sabrina, who had always had a penchant for doing things her own way, suddenly became a model of decorum. On shopping trips she was always accompanied by at least her maid and a footman, and usually by one of her growing number of acquaintances; she made sure always to be with a partner or a chaperone at the different routs and assemblies she attended; and never would she even consider walking out in the early morning alone.

  Thus, Pieter Tenbroeck was a most frustrated man, and though he sometimes followed Sabrina on her daily round, he was never able to approach her. She was aware of him, though, and once, when she was alighting from the Bainbridge landaulet to go into Madam Celeste’s, she glanced over and saw him, standing with another man, whose features were vaguely, tantalizingly familiar. The recollection teased at her memory, but once she was inside the shop and had been confronted with the confection of a bridal gown that Celeste had created for her, all white lace and satin, she forgot all else. She had lost a friend in Reginald, which was just as well, and Tenbroeck was a dark cloud in her life, but she was soon to marry the man of her dreams. She was young enough, and romantic enough, for that to outweigh all else.

  Tenbroeck finally ran her to earth at an assembly at Lady Melbourne’s. Everyone there was avid to see Lord Byron, said to be conducting a torrid affair with Lady Caroline Lamb, Lady Melbourne’s daughter-in-law, and so few eyes were on Sabrina, sitting with Fanny, when Tenbroeck came up and asked for the dance. Her first inclination was to refuse, but in the peculiar ways of society that would mean that she would have to sit out the remainder of the evening. Since she had promised the supper dance to Oliver, that was the very last thing she wished to do.

  “Very well.” Sighing, she got up, and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. Unfortunately, it was a waltz, which meant that they would not be separated during the course of the dance. Perhaps it was just as well. She could not avoid him forever, though his touch made her skin crawl.

  “You did not bring me the document,” he said, without preamble, and Sabrina looked up at him, her eyes clear and guileless.

  “I could not get it,” she said.

  “You had best get it, miss, for your own good.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. You’re hurting me!” she exclaimed, as his hand suddenly tightened on hers.

  “Keep your voice down.” His own was low-pitched, and he suddenly swung her around. If he could not meet her in private, then a waltz was the next best thing. “We haven’t much time. You will get that document, and I’ll not take no for an answer.”

  “I tell you, I can’t,” she said, in a furious whisper. “Bainbridge keeps his papers locked in his safe now.”

  Tenbroeck briefly faltered in his steps, treading on her toes and ignoring her protest. “Damn,” he said, softly. “But you can find a way to get into the safe, Sabrina. After all, you are to be his wife.”

  “Don’t you think I wish I could?” She gazed up at him, hoping her expression was earnest. “I’ve come to believe as you do, that I have to help my country, but I simply cannot get at the documents. No, please, let me finish. It’s true I’m close to Bainbridge, but he hardly consults me on politics.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” he growled. “I know he brought you to speak with Castlereagh.”

  “Yes, at Castlereagh’s request. And how do you know that?”

  “Never mind. What did you tell him?”

  “Well, I couldn’t say much, because I didn’t know much.” Quickly she sketched in what she had told Castlereagh, and he squeezed her hand again.

  “Playing both ends against the middle, are you, girl? Well, I won’t have it! If I think you are betraying me, you’ll suffer for it. And I’ll know.”

  Yes, he had his spy at the Foreign Office, didn’t he? The Office. Guthrie. Lord Woodley’s aide, and the man she had seen with Tenbroeck, outside Madam Celeste’s. “If I suffer, then so will you,” she countered, swiftly. “And Mr. Guthrie.”

  Tenbroeck’s face went white, and she knew she had drawn the right conclusion. “Damn you, how did you know about him?”

  “I didn’t, until now. Do not mistake me, Mr. Tenbroeck. I will do what I can, but if you continue to press me, I have it in my power to bring you down. And Mr. Guthrie, as well.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Sabrina,” he said, as the music stopped and she stepped away from him. “I will not answer for the consequences.”

  For answer, Sabrina dropped into a curtsy, rose, and turned, coming up against Oliver, who was standing close behind her. He was not looking at her, but at Tenbroeck, and his eyes were hard.

  Chapter 26

  “Bainbridge!” she said in apparent delight, laying her hand on his arm. “What, has the card-room palled for you already?”

  Oliver’s eyes flicked toward her, and then back to Tenbroeck. “Evening, Tenbroeck,” he said, coldly.

  “Duke.” Tenbroeck inclined his head, in lieu of a bow. “I was about to escort Miss Carrick back to her chaperone.”

  “Thank you, I will do that.”

  “As you wish. Duke, Miss Carrick.” He inclined his head again, and as he walked away, Oliver’s hand tightened on Sabrina’s arm.

  “Lady Melbourne is inviting some deuced rum characters to her home,” he said, and from somewhere, Sabrina summoned up a smile.

  “Why, Oliver, are you turning Tory on me?” she said, and, after a startled moment, Oliver smiled.

  “No fear of that. But I don’t like him.” A nod of his head indicated Tenbroeck. He deeply distrusted the man, and it was not just because of what he had learned of him in the past weeks, since suspicion had fallen on Woodley’s aide. Guthrie might be completely innocent, of course, but it was strange that he had been seen, several times, with Tenbroeck. For that alone, Oliver disliked the American. What had angered him just now, though, was the look on Sabrina’s face. “What did he want?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “He is quite disagreeable, though. I think he resents it that my English family is of higher station than my American family.”

  “Well, of course.”

  “Sir!” She drew herself up. “No one is higher than the Van Schuylers!”

  The dimple in her cheek gave her away, though she tried to suppress it, and Oliver grinned down at her. “Then they have a sad fall coming. Nevertheless, Sabrina, I don’t want you to see him again.”

  “If I can avoid him, sir, then I will. But if I’d refused to dance with him, I would have had to sit out the rest of the evening.”

  “And?”

  “And the supper dance is promised to you.”

  “Ah. I should have guessed.”

  “Hmph.” She walked a few paces ahead of him and sat down beside Fanny, looking up at him with as haughty an expression as she could manage. “You presume a great deal, sir.”

  “Not more than is warranted, I believe.”

  “Hmph!”

  He grinned, and flicked her cheek with a finger. “Told you. Don’t pout. It doesn’t become you.” For answer, Sabrina thrust her lower lip out further. “Sabrina, you may be the toast of the town, but please don’t become a spoiled beauty,” he said wearily, and at last she smiled.

  “Oliver, you are so wonderfully easy to tease.”

  “I?” He looked at her, one eyebrow raised, and then at Fanny. “I don’t envy you, ma’am. Between my fiancée and your daughter, you have your hands full.”

  “Oh, no, oh my, but they are both such successes, Bainbridge,” Fanny said breathlessly, glancing over toward Melanie, who was surrounded by a group of admirers, Lord Rackham, her latest flirt, prominent among them. “So wonderful.”

  “Perhaps. But Melanie had best bring Bevin up to scratch soon.” He transferred his attention to Sabrina. “You’ll be all right, infant?”

  “Yes, Oliver, but I am not an infant,”
she said.

  “Perhaps. I shall see you for the supper dance,” he said, and walked away, leaving Sabrina to look after him with a mixture of amusement, exasperation, and deep concern. She was grateful to him for rescuing her from Tenbroeck, and worried, as well; she didn’t wish him to draw the wrong conclusion about that acquaintance. At the same time, though, she had nearly blurted out her discovery, that Guthrie was the real spy in the Foreign Office. Only the certain knowledge that she would be bringing about her own downfall as well had kept her still. The fact remained, however. Somehow he would have to be told. And, somehow, she was going to have to find the strength to confess. Before things got any worse, she would have to tell Oliver the truth.

  Letty was just putting the finishing touches to Sabrina’s toilette for the ball when there was a knock on the door. She went to answer and then came back. “His Grace wishes to see you in his study at your convenience, miss.”

  “Oh, dear, now what have I done?” Sabrina rose and then bent low to study her reflection as she tucked an errant curl into place. Because Oliver had finally, and vociferously, objected to her usual hair style, she had had Letty devise another one for this most important occasion, and it had turned out well. Sabrina’s long, shining locks had been twisted into a coil high at the back of her head and then allowed to cascade in short, tight curls. It looked almost as if her hair had been cropped to conform with the current style, and was most becoming, enough so that Sabrina had decided not to wear her hair down again.

  “I suppose I must go answer his bidding,” she said, holding out her wrist for Letty to fasten the tiny buttons of her glove. “Will I do?”

  “You look like a fairy princess, miss.”

  “Excellent, for Grandmama says the ballroom looks like fairyland. I’m not sure she’s altogether pleased.”

  “She will be when she sees you, miss.”

  “I hope His Grace is as satisfied,” she said, before realizing the impropriety of such gossip with servants, even with one as faithful as Letty. “Pray do not wait up for me, Letty. You will have enough to do.”

  “Happy I am to be there to see you, miss,” Letty said. All the servants in the house had been pressed into service for tonight’s ball, and temporary ones had been hired. Their reward would be a party of their own, a week hence.

  “I know I will have at least one admirer,” she said as she left her room. Her heart light, she skipped down the stairs to Oliver’s study. It was early yet and no guests had arrived. “Hastings, you look splendid!”

  The butler, attired in powdered wig and the formal blue and gold Bainbridge livery, made her a graceful bow. “And if I may say so, miss, you look a veritable treat.”

  “Thank you, Hastings.” Smiling at him, she went down the hall. No thought of her problems would be allowed to mar this evening.

  Oliver answered at her knock and she went in. He was standing behind the desk, and she gasped at the sight of him, thoughts of anything else driven from her mind. He was attired in claret colored velvet, with a waistcoat richly figured with claret and gold, and white satin breeches. “Oh, sir, you look very handsome!” she exclaimed, making him grin.

  “Do you not know, Sabrina, that the man should pay the compliment first?”

  “Oh, yes, but all the men look so splendid tonight.”

  “All?” he asked, his eyebrow quirked.

  “Well, Hastings and the footmen.”

  He eyed her for a moment and then burst out laughing. “And has no one told you, infant, that you look beautiful?”

  “Oh, yes, Letty has, but she hardly counts.”

  He grinned again and surveyed her from head to foot. She did, indeed, look beautiful. Instead of wearing white, the debutante’s traditional color, Sabrina had chosen ivory, a far more becoming shade. The bodice and slip were of satin, the overskirt of ivory net, and the front panel was embroidered with gold medallions. Except for the neckline trimmed with gold lace the gown was without ornament. Around her neck she wore Grandmama’s pearls, and a fillet of gold had been threaded through her curls and rested upon her brow. Ivory satin slippers and the obligatory elbow-length kid gloves completed her ensemble.

  “Do you approve?” she asked, when Oliver had stayed silent for a few moments. “About my hair, I mean. I finally decided to pin it up. I think it makes me look more mature, don’t you?”

  “Infant, you look beautiful. Come. I have something I wish you to wear.”

  “What?” she asked, coming closer. He pushed a long, flat box made of leather toward her across the desk top. Curious, she opened it, and then gasped. “Oh, Oliver! But it is much too fine—”

  “They are the Bainbridge jewels,” he said, interrupting her. “They will be yours when we marry.”

  “Oh, they are so beautiful,” she said, looking down at the opened case. Inside was a parure of diamonds and gold, consisting of necklace, earrings, and bracelet. “I never dreamed I’d wear anything like this. Here, will you help me with the clasp?”

  Obediently Oliver removed the pearls, and then deftly fastened the diamonds in their place. Before he could stop himself, he bent and brushed a kiss across the nape of her neck. She turned to stare at him, startled, and for a minute they regarded each other in silence. “Maybe you should wear your hair down, after all.”

  “It isn’t really the style,” she said, her voice husky.

  “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  “I know,” she said, and then, to his relief and regret, stepped away, to fasten the earrings and the bracelet.

  Oliver’s face wore an odd expression. Her gaze, when she looked up, was questioning, and so he smiled, a slow lazy smile that did funny things to her insides. “Those are for my duchess,” he said, and from a desk drawer produced a much smaller box. “This is for my bride.”

  Inside the box was a ring, a square-cut emerald surrounded by diamonds. Again she gazed up at him, and this time his eyes met hers and held. “Oh, Oliver. I—don’t know what to say.”

  He lifted her hand and slowly slipped the ring on her finger. “It just fits over your glove. Tomorrow I will return it to Rundell and Bridge to fit it to your finger.”

  “I am never letting it go. Oh, Oliver, it is beautiful.”

  “D’you like it? I chose emeralds to match your eyes.”

  “I—didn’t even realize you knew what color my eyes are.”

  He chuckled, softly, and grazed his lips across her knuckles. It sent a curious jolt through her. “Oh, I know a good deal about you, my dear.” She stared up at him, speechless. “Come. Shall we go make ready to meet our guests?” Sabrina nodded and placed her hand on his arm.

  The decor of the ballroom was both a shock and a revelation to the ton, who had come to what was, after all, merely another debutante’s come-out ball. They had not, however, bargained on Sabrina’s forthright nature, or Melanie’s sense of fun. Having learned that it is best to outface scandal, they had carried the idea a bit further, much to Oliver’s horror and Gwendolyn’s delight. Under Sabrina’s supervision, the ballroom had been transformed into Vauxhall.

  It was an occasion people would long remember. The orchestra was fine, the dancing spirited, and the refreshments wonderful, but what stayed in everyone’s mind were the trees, all a-sparkle with hundreds of tiny lights. Trees were everywhere, grouped in casual profusion around the low railing which surrounded the dance floor and provided an area for seating for chaperones and others who did not care to dance. Trees were placed together, here and there, to form arbors, one of which contained a facsimile of a Greek temple, Sabrina’s real defiance of the scandal. Trees, without lights, formed an archway in the short hallway that led to the card-room and the refreshment room, where one could find the wafer-thin ham for which Vauxhall was known and, of course, more trees. To people accustomed to believing that crystal chandeliers with hundreds of wax candles were the ultimate in illumination, the effect was charming, and very early the ball was touted as one of the successes of the season. Thoughts of
the scandal were soon banished. No one would have the audacity to appear in such a setting, were there any truth to the rumors. Miss Carrick must have been innocent of the charges made against her, more than one society matron was heard to whisper, and many glanced back at the receiving line, where the duke appeared to be quite pleased with his young ward. If there had been any basis to the scandal, he certainly wasn’t acting it.

  “I thought Lady Weston was going to have an apoplexy when she saw the ballroom,” he was whispering in Sabrina’s ear. “I would strangle you, if it weren’t so amusing.”

  “And effective,” she whispered back. “I have been receiving some very kindly looks.”

  “You don’t deserve to,” he said severely, straightening to greet the next guest in what seemed to be a never-ending line.

  “Admit it, Oliver,” she whispered when there was a pause. “Your life was a lot duller before I came here.”

  “Duller?” His eyebrow rose. “Peaceful, calm, ordered—”

  “And duller.”

  “And duller,” he admitted, looking down at her and smiling so affectionately that her heart skipped a beat. “However, if you ever do such a thing again, I’ll beat you.” His gaze encompassed the ballroom.

  “You approved it.”

  “With you and Grandmama so insistent, did I have a choice?”

  “I think it’s lovely.”

  “So do I,” came another voice, and Sabrina stiffened. “A most unusual effect.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Hailey,” she said. After much discussion it had been decided that rescinding Reginald’s invitation would be worse than allowing him to be present; he was, after all, family, and Melanie’s guardian, and his exclusion would cause talk. Sabrina was prepared to suffer his presence, but in light of past events she was wary of him.