“Ah, yes, that’s right,” she said, recalling now all that had happened last year, much of it involving Julia and Eddie. “My apologies, Julia, I have been far too caught up in my own concerns these days.”
“It is nothing to worry yourself over,” Julia said with a smile, a blonde curl falling over one of her blue eyes. “Now, what is your question?”
“Is Lord Torrington a good man? Has he been married long?”
“He proved himself to be somewhat dishonest, though, in the end, Eddie said he was more than contrite, which is something, I suppose,” Julia mused. “As for his marriage… I know he and the Countess are not overly close, but then who would be with a woman like that?”
“I am afraid I do not know her.”
“She is the daughter of a marquess, and therefore feels herself above most others—and that attitude seems to extend to those who have married into a higher rank,” Elizabeth said, with a glint in her violet eyes. “I tend to avoid her as I am able, though her husband is jovial enough.”
“Interesting,” Sarah mused, though what she was going to do with that information, she had no idea. So the Earl’s wife was not particularly warm. What did that mean to her?
Sarah sighed, then her attention was caught when a shadow fell over her lap. The women looked up to find four gentlemen awaiting their attention. Sarah could feel the stares of her friends, for while three of the men were their own husbands, Mr. Redmond was clearly awaiting her notice. It seemed no matter how she attempted to distance herself from the man, there he was, becoming part of her life one way or another.
“A waltz is beginning,” he said, the slightest of smiles dancing around his lips, though Sarah realized it was somewhat hesitant, as though he was unsure of just how she would respond to him. “Dance with me?”
She bit her lip. She shouldn’t. But as her friends drifted off to the dance floor themselves, she decided that she really had no choice.
“Very well,” she said. “Let us waltz.”
*
When Sarah let herself into her rooms hours later after being conveyed home by Lady Alexander’s carriage, she took a moment to lean back against the door and compose herself. She shut her eyes as she allowed all of the emotions of the evening to finally sweep through her.
She was typically fairly adept at reading people, particularly their emotions and motivations behind their actions. But David Redmond remained a mystery.
From all she knew about him, he was a man who cared primarily for the pleasures of life, taking on little to no responsibility for anything else about him. So why did he seem to care so much about her current situation, be it her search for her father or the fact she lived here alone?
For the truth was, she was growing far too close to him. When he had held her in his arms throughout their waltz, it was difficult to ignore the feel of the muscles she had seen firsthand beneath his jacket, to not allow his scent of brandy and spicy cologne to invade her nostrils. When he spoke, his warm, soothing voice so close to her ear sent chills down her spine. And then there had been that kiss… she knew it was for no reason other than to hide her true purpose for sneaking around the Earl’s study, but still, it had caused a reaction within her that had left her every nerve on edge throughout the rest of the night. It was as though she could sense him wherever he was within the room, notice his every movement, his every breath.
The worst of it all was that it wasn’t just his physical presence nor her attraction to him that bothered her. That, she felt she could handle. It was the fact that she was beginning to enjoy the thought of having someone look out for her—a man who would care enough to worry that she was protected at night, who would help extricate her from what could have been a potentially disastrous situation, who would dance with her when she was the lone single woman within her circle of friends.
She had been told so much about him—the fact that he shirked responsibility, respectability. That he dallied with any woman with whom he had the opportunity to do so. It wasn’t that she didn’t know it to be true, for she had seen firsthand the result of one of his previous liaisons with a married woman. It was that he had shown her a completely different side, one of care and compassion, humor and charm.
Though that was likely what drew in other women as well, she thought with a rueful smile, as she pushed away from the door to pull out her nightrail and begin preparing for bed.
She jumped slightly when she heard a knock on the door, and she fisted her pistol in her hand as she opened the door a crack. To her surprise, it was the very man who refused to leave her thoughts.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, opening the door wide to allow him entrance.
“I told you I would be here tonight,” he said, shutting the door behind him, still dressed in his evening clothes. “And here I am.”
Sarah could hardly think when standing so close to him, so she stepped back and returned to her pile of clothing to tidy it up.
“As you didn’t mention anything toward the end of the evening, I thought perhaps you had forgotten. Or had arranged for another… liaison, perhaps.”
“Another liaison?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “I promised you I would be here. And here I am.”
“Though I never asked you to be!” she exclaimed in frustration, though she immediately regretted her words when she saw him take a step back as though she had hurt him.
“I’m sorry,” she immediately said, though she had no idea how to explain that the reason she didn’t want him close was that she couldn’t handle the effect he had upon her, that she was worried she would lose more than just her reputation if someone were to find out about their current state of living. “I suppose I am just overwhelmed by everything, and I feel guilty about the fact that you are leaving your life to be here to protect me when I am perfectly fine and have been for months now.”
“No need to worry about me,” he said with a cheerful smile. “Though if you have an extra blanket, I will make my bed here on the floor by the door. And, perhaps, if you feel so inclined, I could move your dressing screen between us in order to provide you with more privacy?”
Sarah’s heart began to beat faster at how considerate he was being. How was she supposed to merge the rake he was purported to be with the man before her now?
“Thank you,” she said, her voice just above a whisper as she looked at him, standing now in his beautifully cut evening clothes, looking so out of place here where she currently called home. She cleared her throat. “While you are here, we should look at those wounds of yours. You may have made it through the evening, but I am still of the opinion that you should be resting and looking after yourself. I cannot say I am particularly pleased with your current appearance.”
He grasped his chest as though she had wounded him once more.
“Your words hurt, my lady,” he said, causing her to cringe, for one thing she was not was a lady.
“I only mean that you seem… pale, and tired,” she said, softening her words with a smile. “It has not been long at all since you were injured. We must see if you have done any additional damage to yourself.”
“Very well,” he said with a nod. “Where would you like me?”
“On the bed, if you will,” she said, wishing she had somewhere else she could attend to him. “You can remain seated, but will need to take off your jacket and waistcoat.”
He nodded and did as she bid, though as he sat down he looked at her with a half-smile and a quick wink.
“You know if you wanted me in bed…”
She ignored him, though it made her heart glad to see that he was well enough to joke with her. It meant he was likely on the road to full health, though she couldn’t help the warmth that filled her cheeks at his words. She decided it was best to change the subject.
“Did you see a physician?” she asked, as she busied herself by seeing to her supplies.
“I did not. I trust that your treatment is the best I could come by.”
&
nbsp; She laughed softly as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt to provide her access to the wound. At the very least, it looked as though he had changed the dressing, and she began to remove it, ignoring the heat of his skin upon her fingertips.
“You place a lot of trust in a woman you hardly know.”
“I know enough,” he said, his breath brushing her cheek, and Sarah attempted to take deep breaths to slow her racing heart. “You seem to enjoy caring for others and seek human affection over any other currency. You give of yourself and ask nothing in return. Anything provided to you results in more gratefulness than such small actions might deserve. You are a wonder, Miss Jones.”
Sarah didn’t know how to respond to that, so instead, she bent down to better observe his wound. It did look much improved, she was relieved to see. He had scared her there, with his brief feverish state, but it seemed she had been able to provide him what he needed to heal it just in time, for which she was more than glad.
She finished her dressing, smoothing a fresh bandage overtop. She was about to straighten when her eyes caught his. They were emerald green, and tonight they seemed much more vivid than usual. She wasn’t sure if it was the dim light of the room or the fact that she was closer than she had any right to be, but they called to her in a way she couldn’t explain.
Before she could even think of what she was doing, she laid her hands on his shoulders and her lips upon his.
Chapter Eleven
David nearly fell off the bed.
Of course, he had felt the tension simmering between them—it had been there throughout the entire evening, since he first kissed her in the library—but he had begun to wonder if it was all coming from him, and if she was completely oblivious to his body’s humming desire for her.
Apparently not.
While it certainly wasn’t the first time they had kissed, what completely shocked him was the fact that she was the aggressor.
Despite the worry that he would scare her away, he had to see her, to attempt to read what she was feeling. He pulled back from her ever so slightly, looking into her warm brown eyes, shocked by the pools of desire held within them. Their locked stare was nearly more intimate than the kiss itself.
The only sound in the room was the quick rasp of their intermingling breath, and now and then the crack of the fire she must have started in the grate before he arrived. He had hardly even noticed it when he entered.
He ran a hand over her hair, pulling out one pin and then another, until it was soft and flowing over her shoulders.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, surprised at himself when his voice emerged at just above a whisper.
Her cheeks turned pink at that pronouncement.
He ran his hands down her arms, stopping when he came to her waist, feeling something hard and out of place.
“What is this?” he asked, and she blushed even deeper.
“Nothing,” she said, beginning to squirm away from him.
He stilled her with a look, holding her tightly against him. Somehow her legs had come to wrap around his waist so that she was straddling him, and he had to take a deep breath to attempt to hold onto his control and not allow his desire to overcome all else. When he realized the object was beneath the fabric of her dress, he brought his hand to her ankle, then slowly began to trail his fingers up the smooth silk of her leg. He could see the pulse beating in her throat as his hand traveled over her calf, her thigh, and then finally came to her hip. Something was banded to her, something that fit quite delicately into his hand. It was—
“What are you doing with this?” he asked in shock as he unhooked the knife and slid it back down out of her skirts.
“You were worried about my protection, were you not?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “Well, as you can see, I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”
“How long would it take for you to get to that knife through all of those skirts?” he asked her.
“Would you like a demonstration?” she asked with a smile, and he swallowed hard.
“If you insist.”
He regretted his words as she squirmed backward off of his lap until her feet were touching the floor once more. Then she proceeded to quickly lift the one side of her dress and reach her knife—now unsheathed—in less time than he could count to three.
“Impressive,” he acknowledged.
“You see?” she said, flipping the knife in the air, panicking him, until she caught it neatly by the handle and he began to breathe once more. She looked across the room to the door, and after a moment in which she squinted one eye and took a deep breath, she threw the knife across the room, where it lodged itself perfectly between the door and its frame. David could only stare at her in shock.
“Who are you?” he asked incredulously, and she grinned.
“Who do you think I am, Mr. Redmond?”
“When I first met you, I thought you were a refined lady, related to Lady Alexander. Now… I have no idea.”
She looked to the floor for a moment before returning her gaze to him.
“Are you disappointed?”
“Not at all,” he said, not wanting to say anything further. For the truth was, far from being disappointed, he was in awe.
He avoided innocent women—which Miss Jones seemingly was—because he was always afraid they would fall for him and he would be forced to break off an attachment to them. But with her, the truth was that he was the one beginning to fall for her. It felt as though his heart was beating erratically in his chest, a feeling that he was quite unfamiliar with—and one he didn’t overly appreciate.
When he looked up at her as she walked over to the door, dislodging her knife, he longed to draw her down to him, to kiss her once more. He yearned to feel her softness beneath him, to know what it would be like to have her curves under his hands, to run his fingers everywhere he could find that silky skin.
But if he did so, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going further, to the point where he would determine just what it felt like to be on top of her, within her. And then he would be exactly the man he was reputed to be, showing up at her rooms as her protector and then taking her to bed.
He wouldn’t be that man. Not tonight.
She stood there in front of him, light from the fire glinting off the steel of the knife that she twirled in her fingers, her eyes shimmering and her hair flowing around her shoulders. She was an ethereal presence, both angel and warrior mixed together.
He glanced over at the shotgun in the corner before looking back at her, suddenly needing to know more of who she was, where she had come from, how she had come to be this woman she was today.
“Where did you learn to use a knife?” he asked, and she raised her gaze back to his as she bit her lip in hesitation.
“A friend,” she said, and David nearly groaned in frustration as she continued to hide from him. She finally sighed as though she had come to a decision, one she was unhappy with. “When I grew up, we lived in a village where there were few children my age. He was the son of one of our neighbors. There wasn’t much to do where we lived, and so he taught me skills with weapons that he had learned from his father.”
“Did your mother care that you were learning such things?”
“No, she encouraged it,” Miss Jones said with a soft smile in memory of her mother. “She felt it was important for me to be able to protect myself, particularly in case something ever happened to her. Which… it did, though fortunately I was already grown.”
“What happened?” he asked softly, not wanting to pry, but sensing that she needed to speak of it. He hoped he wasn’t overstepping, as he knew he was wont to do. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to mind.
“She became ill,” Miss Jones said, sitting down upon the one other small chair in the room. “We never entirely knew what it was. She was a healer herself, much more skilled than I, and even in her most lucid moments, she couldn’t identify the illness. It was in her throat, her tonsils
, chest pain… she had a persistent fever and finally everything just failed. I did what I could, but knew not how exactly to treat her, besides easing her pain as I could.”
She paused for a moment, rubbing her nose.
“I just wish I could have done something more to help her.”
“If you were there with her,” he said gently, wanting to go to her, but sensing he should stay where he was at the edge of the bed and give her some space, “I am sure that was most important to her.”
“That’s what she said,” Miss Jones nodded.
“This search for your father…” he began, wishing desperately within himself for the ability to help her in some way but unsure exactly how to go about doing so, “Can I see the letter you mentioned?”
She nodded and walked over to a side table, finding the letter within a bag of her belongings. She passed it to him and he looked it over, but besides some spidery writing that suggested perhaps the writer was not someone who would have received a formal education, there was nothing else that provided him with any additional information.
“Perhaps I could better help you if you tell me of the relationship your parents had. How did they know one another? Why did it not work, Miss Jones?”
“Call me Sarah, please,” she implored. “I believe we are far past formalities, seeing as you have already spent multiple nights sleeping in my room.”
He chuckled, but nodded.
“Very well. I would prefer David, as it were.”
She smiled. “Very well, David.”
He loved the sound of his given name on her lips. Few ever used it, and the familiarity caused him to feel that, for once, someone was close enough to him to have cause to use it.
“As for my parents,” she said slowly. “To be honest, I do not know much. My mother hardly ever spoke of my father. She said it was too painful. From what I know, he was far above her in station. She was the daughter of a healer in the village near his family’s estate—as for where that was, I know you will ask and I sincerely have no idea. She never told me the name of it. He was the eldest son of a lord. From the way she did speak of him, I gathered that they were deeply in love—or, at least, she loved him very much. His father forbid their marriage, telling his son that he would lose everything if he chose my mother. He was torn. She didn’t allow him to make the choice, but left, not wanting to tear his entire family apart.”
Lady of Charade Page 8
