by Liana Lefey
Good for him! thought Henry.
Lady Chadwick sucked in an audible breath, but her son cut her off before she could vent her spleen. “We both know I’m not destined for an earl’s daughter, though saints know I tried my damndest,” he said. “But neither am I willing to be sold to the likes of Miss Bidewell. I can hardly stand to be in the same room with her.”
“That is entirely beside the point!” honked Lady Chadwick. “That girl comes with a substantial dowry. It is an excellent match, and you would do well to put aside your foolish notions of l—”
“I will bloody well choose my own wife!” the young man snapped. “And it will not be Miss Bidewell, or anyone like her!”
“I suppose you want someone like your fine Lady Sabrina, is that it?” taunted the matron. “A shameless little harlot who’ll cuckold you the instant you turn your back? Tell me, have you come completely unhinged?”
Her words angered Henry, but he knew he could say nothing, lest he put Sabrina at further risk. She’d already faced down enough censure tonight because of him. He listened as Chadwick took up the gauntlet.
“I should keep my viper’s tongue behind my teeth if I were you, Mother. This is Montgomery’s doing! Sabrina is innocent of any duplicity, an unwitting victim of his cruel manipulation.”
Cruel manipulation? Henry nearly chuckled. He was only half responsible for that kiss.
“Yes, well, according to Lady Carrington, your precious innocent practically had her skirts hiked up to her ears!” Lady Chadwick shot back. “Perhaps you’d better leave the judgment of a woman’s character to one who knows women better than you.”
Henry couldn’t help himself. He turned just enough to see them out of the corner of his eye.
Chadwick towered over his mother, his face hard. “If I may be so bold as to remind you, Mother, less than an hour ago you were quite pleased to welcome her into our family. Clearly, your opinion is utter bollocks.”
Henry turned away and clapped a hand over his mouth to cover a surprised laugh.
“Be warned,” continued Chadwick, “for if I find you’ve spoken one ill word against her to anyone, I’ll have you packed off to the country for the remainder of the Season. Do I make myself clear?”
Henry heard her mouth shut with an audible pop. Obviously, the threat carried some weight.
“I shall be in the smoking room for the remainder of the evening,” Chadwick announced. “I would leave this very instant, but if I am to ever show my face in public again, I’ve no choice but to face this with dignity. Should you wish to leave, you may take the carriage. I shall find my own way home tonight.”
Henry looked down as Chadwick walked past. He contemplated the interchange. Likely, he would be questioned by his own father regarding tonight’s petite scandal, just as Lady Aylesford would no doubt question Sabrina. He had a perfect explanation for his behavior—one that would be immensely pleasing to his marriage-minded father. He could not help but wonder what excuse Sabrina would give.
I suppose I’ll discover that soon enough…
“I am astounded at your lack of propriety, Sabrina,” said her mother the instant the serving girl left. “You know how fragile a young lady’s reputation is.”
Sabrina repressed a weary sigh. She’d been expecting it all morning. Mama had been simply too upset to speak of it last night on the way home. “Yes, Mama,” she answered. “And I assure you that it was not my intention to grant him liberties of any sort.”
Her mother’s gaze remained fastened on the plate before her. “Yes, well. From the way I heard it told, you were not exactly protesting. I need to know every detail—and I expect the truth. Was it indeed only a kiss?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“How long were you alone together?”
“Less than half an hour. Perhaps twenty minutes?”
Her mother frowned, clearly unhappy. “Not long enough for ruination, given the short amount of time that passed between Lady Carrington’s announcement and your reappearance.”
Sabrina twisted the napkin in her lap. She simply could not let it alone. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were displeased.”
“I won’t say I wouldn’t have been happy to pair you with Henry, but I would much rather it be under better circumstances,” replied her mother. “You are absolutely certain she was the only one to see you?”
“Yes.” It came out angry. “I thought I was to choose my husband?”
Now her mother looked her in the eye. “That promise is only as good as your restraint. If you allow yourself to be ruined out of recklessness, you’ll have no choice but to marry your accomplice—because no other man will have you.” She sawed viciously at a piece of ham. “Your behavior last night was enough to jeopardize your good name. You cannot afford to let it happen again. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“Yes, Mama.” She waited, expecting the tirade to continue, but it appeared her mother was finished—at least for the moment. Her stomach growled, and she looked to the food on the table with renewed anticipation.
The butler appeared in the doorway. “Pardon the intrusion, your ladyship, but Lord Montgomery has arrived.”
The savory bacon in her mouth turned to ash.
“What? At this hour? Show him in here,” said her mother.
It was all Sabrina could do to swallow past the knot in her throat. Did the man possess no compassion whatsoever? For him to show up on the heels of her interrogation was not to be borne. She jumped up to flee before his blasted lordship appeared—only to find the exit blocked by the broad chest of her nemesis. A colorful oath slipped out before she could shut her teeth on it.
“And good morning to you, my spicy little sailor,” murmured Montgomery sotto voce. “Sleep well?”
Furious, she hissed back at him, “I’m sure that is none of y—”
“How lovely of you to surprise us with a visit so soon, Henry,” said her mother. “Sabrina, ring for another setting.”
“Yes, Mama,” she answered, stalking over to the table and doing her level best to separate the bell’s clapper from its mooring. She slapped it back down and sat, glowering at the food growing cold on her plate, her appetite gone.
“What brings you here?” asked her mother.
After a moment’s hesitation, he answered. “Father has decided to have a small celebration in honor of Rebecca’s sixteenth birthday.” He withdrew a creamy envelope from his pocket. “I came to personally deliver the invitation.”
Sabrina looked at him with suspicion. That’s not what he was going to say.
“Henry, how wonderful!” her mother exclaimed as she took it. “I can hardly believe your baby sister is old enough to be coming out.”
Sabrina gritted her teeth and fumed in silence. Apparently, Mama had forgiven him everything!
“Rebecca is a baby no more, I’m afraid.” A soft light entered his eyes. “There will be a small family gathering that afternoon, if you’d like to join us early. I know she would love to see you.”
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
Sabrina’s heart stopped. When Montgomery turned to give the servant his breakfast order, she waved her hands at her mother, signaling frantic disagreement.
But Mama merely continued as though unaware. “You simply must tell us her likes and dislikes, Henry, so that we may select an appropriate gift.”
By all rights, Sabrina’s glare should have roasted the hide right off her, but Mama, having borne six girls, had long ago become impervious to filial ire. Montgomery wasn’t paying her the least bit of mind at all, either. He’d become deeply engrossed in discussing his sister’s preference for all things yellow.
Her gaze was drawn to him against her will. The afternoon sun slanted through the breakfast room windows, illuminating motes of dust hanging in the air and surrounding him in a nimbus of light. It was a contradiction, that golden halo. He ought to be surrounded by night’s velvet darkness.
Setting her jaw, she tr
ied to put him out of her mind. It was no use.
Though she could not have repeated what he said, every word Montgomery uttered seemed to seep into her flesh like warm honey. Each syllable was a tangible touch whispering against her senses.
Her hands shook so badly that she almost upset her cup when a servant came to refill it. She set it down after just one sip, hoping no one had noticed. Folding her hands in her lap, she gazed out across the gardens, searching for some distraction.
“Sabrina, don’t be rude!”
The sharp rebuke jerked her back to the present. Heat tingled in her cheeks. “I’m terribly sorry, Mama. What did you say?”
“Do pay attention,” chided her mother. “Henry asked whether or not you remembered Rebecca.”
“I’m afraid I do not. After all, I was still very young when she was born,” Sabrina answered, deliberately reminding everyone of their ages.
Montgomery’s eyes twinkled. “No matter. I have every confidence you’ll become the greatest of friends. I wonder”—he paused for a moment—“perhaps you’d be kind enough to share some of your wisdom with her as she enters the fray. She is quite naive and has not the benefit of an experienced older woman to guide her. I would be most appreciative if you would consider taking her under your wing.”
Experienced older woman? She felt her cheeks tingling again. Knowing he’d only returned her fire in kind made it no easier to bear an insult that was far too close to the truth. She would have let her tongue have free run, but the presence of Mama and the servants prevented it. She had no choice but to swallow the insult.
“Indeed, I shall be glad to do so,” she said with a sugary smile. “Better for her to learn it from a member of her fellow sex than from some self-serving blackguard.” There!
He merely smiled. “Excellent. I shall convey to her your eagerness to become acquainted. She has been beside herself with excitement over the prospect of meeting you, so I know my news will please her greatly.”
She wanted to throttle him.
To kiss him.
Concentrate!
So, he’d spoken to his sister about her, then. She wondered what he had told her. Despite her having bested Lady Carrington last night, the papers this morning were rife with gossip, most of it not flattering.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Montgomery. “I’ve a box for the premier of Giulio Cesare next Friday, if you ladies would care to join me. Father isn’t much for the opera, so I have it all to myself.”
“We’d be delighted to accompany you, of course,” said her mother with enthusiasm.
Sabrina held back a scream of pure frustration.
It was long after he’d gone before she worked up the courage to speak with her mother and beg her to leave off any further matchmaking.
“Oh, there you are! Giulio Cesare—isn’t it wonderful?” asked her mother the moment she saw her standing in the doorway. “Henry was always a dear boy. It is such a joy to see what a fine young man he’s become.”
Sabrina hadn’t seen her so cheery in years. Her determination wavered. Mama had suffered enough disappointment in life. For her sake, she would bear Montgomery’s odious company a bit longer. It might slow her plans to conquer Fairford, but it would certainly not stop her.
“I must say, you were not yourself this afternoon, young lady,” her mother continued. “You are not feeling ill, I hope?”
“I’m perfectly fine, Mama. Just tired.”
“Did you not sleep well?”
Why is everyone so concerned with the quality of my sleep?
“Well, I suppose there was a lot of excitement last night,” her mother answered herself lightly.
Sabrina’s patience finally frayed. “It was only a kiss, Mama!”
“I was not speaking of your indiscretion,” replied her mother without missing a beat. “The world does not revolve solely around you, my dear.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she muttered.
“Quite all right. I suspect your attention was taken up by…other things.” She smiled wickedly, and Sabrina’s face heated a bit more. “Colonel Blake offered for Cassandra Mayfield’s hand. The boy dropped knee right there in the ballroom. But you would know that, had you been where you were supposed to be.”
She ignored the barb. “They only met but a fortnight ago—she’s mad if she accepts!”
“Why? Many marriages begin with the bride and groom meeting for the first time on their wedding day. I’ve spoken with her mother, and she feels they’re very well suited. Cassandra is overjoyed.”
“Cassandra is bereft of all good sense!” Sabrina said, scoffing, unwilling to give over. “How can anyone possibly be certain of their feelings for someone after only a fortnight?”
Her mother shot her a knowing glance. “I agree with Lady Mayfield and believe it to be a fine match. I saw them dancing last night, and I feel they will be very happy together. They are announcing the engagement next week.”
Sabrina crossed her arms and set her jaw. “Well, I certainly shan’t accept the first fellow to claim a tender sentiment for me. In fact, I should prefer it if the man I marry never speaks to me of love at all.”
“Pish tosh, girl! You’ll be grateful if your husband harbors warm feelings for you, I assure you.”
“Of all people, how can you possibly say such a—” Sabrina stopped, aghast. “I’m sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean—it’s just that I remember…” She looked down. “I know how things were between you. How they really were.”
“This has been coming for a long time,” said her mother calmly. “I thought that perhaps you might have grown to understand without my having to explain. I see now that I was wrong.” She patted the bed beside her. “Come and sit, my dear.”
Numbly, Sabrina did as requested.
“Your father had mistresses out of necessity, Sabrina. I nearly died giving birth to you, and the doctor told us it would be too dangerous for me to go through it again.” She bowed her head, her voice growing soft and sad. “Your father was still young, still full of vigor. He did the best he could under the circumstances. Out of respect for me, he kept a proper mistress rather than shaming me with the household servants like so many men do. And he never kept the same one for more than a year, to prevent any undue attachments from forming.”
Her mother blushed to the tips of her ears. “I can’t believe I’m telling you these things, but it’s time you know the truth.”
“Mama, I really don’t think this is—”
“It is absolutely necessary!” snapped her mother. “You need not fear your husband’s affections.”
“I’m not afraid of—”
“Shh! Let me finish.” Her mother clasped her hand. “There are ways to prevent conceiving, Sabrina. Ways I didn’t know about until it was too late. Your father was already quite ill by the time I learned of the herbs and the”—her voice sank to a whisper—“the French sheath.”
Sabrina squirmed. Augusta and she had talked about such things in whispers a few times. Never had she expected to hear of it from Mama!
“I asked him about it just before he died,” continued her mother. “I asked him why he’d never suggested that we—”
“Mama!” Sabrina exclaimed, mortified.
Her mother let out a frustrated sigh. “I can see you aren’t ready for this yet. But you will be one day. And when that day comes, I want you to know you can talk to me, Sabrina. I have knowledge that could save your marriage. I’m only trying to help you, darling.”
Sabrina remained silent, hoping, praying that this uncomfortable conversation would end. Mama had it all wrong. She wasn’t afraid of her husband losing his desire for her. Such was only to be expected.
“I’ll tell you another thing,” continued her mother, “I’m considering marrying again.”
“What?”
“Lord Sheffield has asked for my hand. Again.”
“Lord Sheffield? But mother, he’s, he’s—”
“A bit older th
an me, I know, but still spry enough. He was quite the handsome buck when we first met. I actually quite fancied him. In fact, I almost accepted his first proposal. But then I met your father, and I was so attracted, I knew I could marry no other man. Sheffield was crushed—begged me not to do it. Swore he’d run Harry through and then kill himself if I did. But I’d already made my choice. Because of me, they didn’t speak to each other for many years.”
It was as if the laws of reality had simply unraveled. Men had vied for her mother’s hand, threatening violence and suicide over the loss of her affections.
“We were mad for each other, Harry and I,” her mother said softly. “Simply mad. We married as soon as decency allowed. Life isn’t always going to follow the neat little plans we’ve laid out, Sabrina. I fully intended to marry Sheffield all those years ago, but I was so drawn to your father after I met him that I could think of no one else. It was very romantic.”
Immediately, the spirit of rebellion arose in Sabrina’s breast. Romance. What useless drivel! Her mother seemed determined to place her faith in illusions. Papa had not taken a mistress as a last resort, he’d simply done what all young married men did after a few years. Papa had been faithful to her longer than most husbands, in fact.
Given her own dreadful experience, Mama ought to understand her point of view regarding sentiment—especially now that she herself was marrying for more sensible reasons. Sheffield would make a much better companion for her than Papa had been. Not only were they good friends, but it was unlikely the man had any interest in passion at his age. Theirs was an eminently sensible arrangement. Saying such things, however, would earn her no favors with her romantic mother. “I understand, Mama,” she said quietly.
“I don’t think you do understand,” said her mother. “Your sisters all married for love, and look how happy they are. I’d hoped you would marry happily as well.”
“I will,” she assured her. Mama did not know everything, apparently. Her sister Victoria had recently written to Georgiana, who had in turn shared with her in confidence that Victoria suspected that her husband had taken a lover. Having “married for love,” she’d been devastated. No. Her way was better. “But for me, happiness means a sensible arrangement, Mama. Please try to understand.”
