by Liana Lefey
“Many women would be more than pleased to accept my offer,” he snarled. “She is certainly not my only other choice.”
“Of course, you must do whatever you think is best,” she said, keeping her face neutral. She’d pricked his pride, apparently. The look in his eyes was cold and ugly. “If you feel someone else will make a better wife, then you must marry her, naturally.” Turning, she began to walk back to the house, forcing her feet to move at a steady march, rather than running.
An arrogant man like him would be unable to resist the need to prove her wrong. And he truly wanted her now. She could have him with a word. But his was a savage desire, untempered by any sort of tenderness. She shivered with the knowledge that he truly wouldn’t care whether or not she loved him, so long as she belonged to him.
Once he’d had his fill of her and she’d done her duty as a broodmare, he would indeed set her aside and pursue his pleasure elsewhere. It was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? But could she really marry such a man?
The path that had seemed so certain to her before now seemed fraught with pitfalls. Only one other remained untried. But could she actually do it?
“I DON’T SEE how you can possibly get out of it, Sabrina,” whispered Augusta. “You’ll have to accept one of them.”
“No, I don’t,” Sabrina told her sister. She looked to the doorway with apprehension. Mama had gone to speak with cook about dinner before Montgomery and his sister arrived, but she could return at any moment. “I’ve a plan to avoid all of this unpleasantness.”
Her sister’s expression turned incredulous. “You call it ‘unpleasant’ to have men competing for your hand?”
“If you’d endured what I have, you’d agree with me,” Sabrina replied sourly. “But you had it easy.”
“Philip is a dear.” Augusta smiled, her gaze softening.
Sabrina snorted to herself. Philip was an unsophisticated country squire who’d inherited his title by the sheer grace of a cousin’s stupidity. To put it plainly, he was a bumpkin, and she suspected that Augusta visited London so rarely mainly in order to keep him that way. The variety of temptations offered here corrupted men all too easily. Victoria’s husband had certainly fallen prey to its lures. Augusta was extremely wise to cling so closely to her husband’s side when they visited.
“It’s a shame you didn’t pay mind to his brother,” continued Augusta. “Peter would have made an excellent husband. And don’t make that face! You always make that face whenever I speak of Peter,” she complained. “He’s a good man, and he would have come to scratch if you’d shown any interest at all.”
“Oh, Augusta! Must we revisit this every time you come home? Peter never showed the slightest interest in me. It’s a moot point, anyway, since he’s gone for the church, isn’t it?”
“He could still marry,” said Augusta. “He’d be here in a shot if you wrote to him with even the least amount of encouragement.”
“I doubt it. Even if he did harbor an unrequited tendre for me, he has a reputation to uphold now. His parishioners would likely start piling wood at the stake if he brought me home,” she added stubbornly. “Now, enough about Saint Peter.”
“Oh, all right. I was only trying to offer a solution to your problem,” grumbled Augusta. “Tell me about this grand plan of yours, then.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m going to find another suitor.”
“That’s your plan?” exclaimed Augusta. “Add to the ‘unpleasantness’ further? How many suitors does a girl need?”
“Just one. The right one. And don’t you dare lecture me! Half a dozen of the ladies in your own circle entertained several suitors before they settled.”
“Yes, but they weren’t in your situation,” said Augusta, pointing an accusing finger. “You really ought to reconsider. You can’t afford to take chances, not after the sort of scan—”
“I can, and I shall. I will not fall prey to the same tragedy as our mother and our sister. I assume Georgiana has told you about Victoria?”
“Yes. I received a letter from her two days ago,” said Augusta, her voice sinking to a whisper. Now she, too, glanced at the door anxiously. “Does Mama know anything yet?”
Sabrina shook her head. “She does not. She is afraid that if Mama finds out, she will come storm the castle and cause a complete uproar. What do you think she ought to do?”
Augusta cast her gaze to the carpet. “I don’t think there is much she can do, to tell the truth. You know menfolk hold all of the power. She has no recourse, no choice but to put up with his indiscretions quietly.”
“Just as Mama did,” Sabrina murmured sadly. “My plan will work, Augusta. It must.”
Their mother sailed into the room with Henry and Rebecca in tow, effectively curtailing the conversation.
“Sabrina, it’s happened!” the girl squealed happily, extending her hand and waggling her fingers.
“You didn’t!” Sabrina gasped, snatching up the girl’s hand to get a better look at the sparkling jewel.
Rebecca’s grin broadened. “Charles gave it to me yesterday.”
“I’m so pleased for you,” said Sabrina, forcing a happy smile. How could she be engaged after only knowing the man for a few weeks? “Rebecca, this is my sister, Lady Billingsly,” she told her, introducing them.
“Congratulations—and please, call me Augusta,” said her sister.
Sabrina listened numbly while Rebecca regaled them with her fairy tale of an engagement. “Are you not in the least bit concerned about how quickly this has all happened?” she interjected, unable to stand it any longer.
“Absolutely not. I love him, Sabrina. And he adores me!”
“But how can you know that after such a short time?” she argued.
Rebecca shrugged and sighed. “I just know. When he’s near, I can’t think of anything else. And when he’s away, it’s the same.” She looked guiltily over at her brother and lowered her voice to a whisper. “And when he kisses me—oh, it’s shameful, Sabrina! But I can’t help myself. I’ll die if I don’t marry him.”
Sabrina’s heart began to pound. Just the sound of Henry’s voice was enough to make her tremble inside. Even now, as he chuckled at something her mother had said, she felt it like a physical touch. She pushed him from her mind. “You would risk your life’s happiness on a mere infatuation?”
“Oh, it’s more than that,” answered Rebecca. “Far more! I simply cannot live without him.”
“But you hardly know him.”
“I know him well enough.”
Sabrina shook her head. It just didn’t make sense. “Well, at least you’ll have until next spring before it becomes final. You can still change your mind.”
“I won’t,” said Rebecca. “And we’re not waiting until next spring. We are to marry at the beginning of June. Father is going to announce it next week.”
“June? But—”
“Father has given consent for us to wed as soon as decency allows, lest the matter end in a Scottish scandal,” interrupted Rebecca. A rosy blush stained her cheeks.
“Rebecca!”
“Well, it’s true! We can barely be in the same room together.”
Again, Sabrina’s heart clenched. Augusta’s sharp elbow in her ribs finally forced her to drop her argument. “You will do as you please, I suppose,” she trailed off. The girl was obviously not using her head at all.
Folly. Pure folly. Her heart, however, insisted on maintaining the hope that Rebecca would be just as blindingly happy in five years’ time.
From across the room where he sat with Mama, Henry’s gaze pierced her. How was it that he could create such chaos within her, while others did absolutely nothing—or worse, repulsed her?
“I came as quickly as I could,” said Percy as he entered Pembroke’s estate office.
“Thank you. You may go now,” Henry said to Watkins, handing him a sheaf of documents and then gestured for Percy to make himself at home. Naturally, he went straight over to the br
andy decanter.
“It’s barely even midday.”
“What are you, my maiden aunt?” groused Percy. “If you’d had the sort of night I did, you’d be having a drink, too. Now, tell me why in heaven’s name I dragged myself out of bed to come here. And why are we in this musty old room? Not that I’m complaining,” he added, lifting his glass to admire the rich amber fluid in it. “Your father’s personal stock is quite fine.”
“We are here because no one ever comes in here uninvited, and there is no way for anyone to approach this room without being heard coming down the hall,” Henry said, keeping his voice low. “There has been a disturbing turn in the investigation.”
“Oh?”
“Our man found a girl who’d run away from Madam Boucher. She said she and the others there are frightened and directed him to visit a friend who used to work there.”
“Used to work?”
“A patron paid Boucher to remove her, in order to make her his private plaything.”
“I was unaware one could do such a thing.”
“This woman was one of Boucher’s established girls, who’d been fortunate enough to secure the affections of her patron. She said that there had been changes in the way things were being run at her former employer’s. Boucher has recently begun having her bullies approach families in the poorer districts with offers to buy their untouched girls, and then grooming them to be sold, not rented.”
“That smells of slavery,” said Percy, wrinkling his nose.
“Indeed. And I was told several pleasure houses have begun doing it to cater to patrons who fear the pox. It’s quite profitable, apparently. In return for her relatively small investment in a virgin, Boucher receives quite a sum. And there is an agreement between her and the client that if he ever tires of his purchase, he returns the girl. Thus, she can begin ‘regular’ service and earn her further profits.”
“Quite the entrepreneur, isn’t she?”
“There is more. This woman told our man that two months ago, Fairford bought a girl from Boucher and that she has not been seen or heard from since. She said that, like her patron, many of Boucher’s clients decide to keep their ‘bought’ girls and set them up as proper mistresses, but that Fairford has purchased girls from Boucher twice while she was there. To her knowledge, he has not returned either of them, and no one has heard of his setting up a new mistress anywhere in London.”
“They simply disappeared?”
Henry nodded. If the idea of Sabrina marrying Fairford had been unacceptable before, it was truly terrifying now. “There is no evidence to prove that he has brought them to harm, but…”
“I agree. With all his secrecy, it does not bode well,” said Percy. “What of Childers? Is she somehow involved?”
“The man said he didn’t think so. She knows Fairford often goes somewhere besides his own home when he leaves her, but we think he keeps her ignorant of the details. One thing is certain. If he has bought girls from Boucher, he must be keeping another house somewhere in London. Thus far, he has not gone directly from Childers to visit it, which leads me to think he is switching carriages again—at Boucher’s.”
“In the front door and out through the back immediately after,” said Percy, nodding. “How do we go about proving it and finding this hideaway?”
“I’ve hired more men, enough to have one follow every carriage that departs Boucher’s from the time Fairford arrives. It’s the only way to catch him at his final destination.”
“Good lord, man,” gasped Percy. “Do you have any idea how many people visit that place a night? The expense of it! I certainly hope she is worth it.”
“Which leads me to the point of bringing you here. I need another favor, Percy. Sabrina won’t listen to me if I try to tell her anything about Fairford, but she might listen to someone else.”
“But she’ll know immediately that it comes from y—”
“I’ve said nothing of our association to her, and her mother and sisters would know nothing of it, either. Few people knew we were close friends before I left for India, and I haven’t been in London long enough for it to have become widely known. I need you to get close to her, gain her confidence so that when you let slip about Fairford, she becomes curious.”
“And then you wish me to spoon-feed her the information we’ve obtained.”
“Just so.”
“The moment she learns we are friends, it will be over. Everything I will have said will be discredited.”
“Yes, but by then she’ll hopefully be curious enough to continue digging on her own and perhaps start asking questions.”
“Do you really believe this will work?”
“There is only one way to know, and that is to try,” said Henry.
THE RUTLAND BALL
SABRINA KNEW EXACTLY why Fairford had broken off with Miss Bidewell—and she refused to be pressured into making a premature decision.
Her plan to obtain another suitor had to be implemented, and soon. It had to be someone she could like well enough, without there being a danger of further emotional attachment. And it had to be someone her current suitors would never perceive as a threat.
She searched the room and had selected a likely target when, much to her surprise, Lord Falloure approached her.
“My lady, how delightful to see you again. And how charming you look this evening.”
Confusion filled her. For five years every marriageable female’s mother had salivated over the possibility of a match with Falloure, yet none had succeeded in so much as getting him to come to tea. And here he stood before her, waiting with what looked like anticipation.
Had her name become that infamous? She eyed him with careful consideration. No one would ever imagine that he would come to scratch. Therefore neither Fairford or Henry would see him as a threat. Did she dare attempt the impossible? “Oh, dear! You gave me a start, Lord…?”
Though his smile remained, his nostrils pinched. “Falloure, my lady. We were introduced at the Westfield ball. I partnered you in a minuet.”
“Did you? I’ve attended so many balls and danced with so many gentlemen, you must forgive me if I do not recall.”
“You wound me to the heart.” He grinned, and his voice lowered suggestively. “Rare is the lady who doesn’t remember dancing with me.”
Suppressing a laugh, Sabrina appraised the man before her. Dressed fit to rival the king, the tall, slender dandy wore an exquisite jacket of violet silk embroidered with silver thread and embellished with jewels. Polished silver buttons marched in long, gleaming rows down his chest, and the long, elegant fingers peeking from beneath the frothy lace at his cuffs were heavy with rings. Even his shoes glittered with gems.
“Well, to be fair, I was likely a bit distracted,” she said at last.
“Oh?” He frowned. “And what, pray tell, could possibly distract you so?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard of my current predicament,” she finally said. Might as well lay all of the cards out in the open. Well, most of them.
“Who has not?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.
She decided to take a gamble. “And what think you?”
“I think you must be a truly fascinating woman to have attracted offers from three such vastly different men in so short a time.” He reached out and lifted her face. “And I think you would already be engaged to one of them had he been what you desired.”
Miracles do happen! “You are correct in your estimation,” she told him as calmly as possible. “I am looking for something different.”
He gave her the smile that she knew had melted the knees of countless women. It was very pretty, but she found herself unmoved. Excellent.
“I beg you to tell me all, only promise me your next dance,” he said, offering his arm. “And I vow to prove myself more worthy of recollection this time.”
By the time the dance was over and a glass of champagne had been shared in a quiet corner, Sabrina had firmly attached him. When he suggest
ed they take a breath of air outside, she knew she had him hooked.
They walked along the gravel path for a bit in silence.
“Now that the moon has set, one can see them quite clearly,” he said, gazing up at the stars. “Such beauty is hard to parallel. Like jewels they are. And look, there is the brightest of them all, Venus.” He pointed at one particularly brilliant point. “Named for the goddess of love, ’tis said the sight of her is a blessing to all lovers.”
“Better Venus than Mars, I suppose,” she chuckled. “I should think the auspices of that particular deity must be avoided by lovers at all costs.”
“Ah, but Mars was the lover of Venus,” he murmured back, coming a little closer. “He would never dare to cause strife where his beloved walked. Every man should follow his example and be content to worship at his lady’s feet, denying her nothing her heart desires.”
What utter rubbish! she thought, rolling her eyes under the cover of darkness. He was almost as bad as Chadwick. “My heart desires only peace. I do not know if I can take much more of this rivalry. I apologize, my lord. I fear I shall bore you with such talk.”
“Nonsense,” he said, patting her hand where it rested on his sleeve. “You may lay the burdens of your heart upon my ears and know that your secret is safe with me.”
“My, but you are sweet to sympathize so. None of my other friends have such a generous heart.”
“Such callous treatment!” he exclaimed with mock alarm. “I wonder that you still name them friends.”
She shot him a sidelong look. “Flatterer! Think not that I am fooled, my lord. I am well aware of your reputation.”
“Then you know that I have no ulterior motives lurking beneath my counsel,” he told her. “You are safe from my wicked predations—so long as you remain undecorated by a wedding ring.”
“Shame on you, my lord!” she laughed, caught off guard. “You truly are the devil they say you are.”
“I give him a run for his money every now and then,” he confessed. “But you may rest assured that this old devil is on your side, dear lady. As charming as you are, I’ve no interest in ravishing you. At least not for the moment,” he added, lifting a wry brow. “Once you’ve gone and shackled yourself to some poor fool, however, I may change my mind. Beware the day you wed.”
