by Judith James
"In truth, my dear, I'm unable to recall when I've enjoyed anyone's company as much."
"How charming! You know, you're not at all what I was led to expect."
"Old and decrepit, you mean?"
"That too, but I was referring to the curse of the Killigrews. The terror and bane, and dare I say, delight, of your relatives in Falmouth."
"Mmm, yes. I really must go and visit them sometime. I've been told they never speak of me, rather in the manner one doesn't speak of the devil."
"But they do, my lord, with a shudder and a slight flush, and avid looks all around. You are a delicious shock to them, sir."
"Rather hypocritical, wouldn't you say? They seem to have forgotten they are descended from pirates."
"What a pity! My family is inordinately fond of their piratical connections."
"So one hears, Lady Munroe. Indeed 'tis said that you have an... intimate acquaintance with the piratical sort. Is it true?"
"One hears that you have an intimate acquaintance with dancers, opera singers, cheats, and three generations of the same family," she replied with asperity. "One hears a great many things, my lord. My cousin is a privateer, and my brother, Lord Huntington, has been known to dabble on occasion, so yes, I suppose it is true."
"I am sorry, Sarah... Lady Munroe. Please forgive my clumsiness. You interest and unsettle me, and I find myself curious as to whether you have any significant attachments. It was impertinent and I apologize." If he'd expected an answer to that, he didn't get one. The lady appeared to be gripped by a sudden melancholy, and shortly thereafter, she excused herself to go to bed. Alone.
Killigrew was confused. She was unlike any female he'd ever met. She was far freer in her speech, dress, and manner than any of the respectable women he knew, but she had a genuineness and grace that belied her being a strumpet, aristocratic or otherwise. To add to the confusion, her conversation, education, and sense of humor were more like a man's than a woman's. To a jaded rake, she presented a novel and intensely appealing challenge.
The next morning the house shuddered as angry gusts of wind howled and shrieked outside, as if furious at being denied entry. Drifts piled deep against the walls, burying the driveway, and Sarah knew she wasn't going anywhere.
Over the next three days, Killigrew waged a tireless campaign of charm and seduction. They bantered over chess and cards, their conversations wide-ranging and delightful, both of them surprised at the breadth of the other's interests, and depth of knowledge. Killigrew found himself laughing more than he'd ever done, while Sarah found herself laughing for the first time in a very long while.
Intent on the hunt, the earl failed to notice, that the more he exerted himself to entice and capture, the more securely he was caught. On the third day of the storm, he tracked her to the library. She was in breeches again. He tilted his head sideways, enjoying the view and trying to see her book. "Still reading Robinson Crusoe?" he asked, crossing the room to sprawl on the settee beside her.
"Yes, William, I'm almost done. The weather looks to be clearing, and I hope to finish it before I leave tomorrow," she said, marking her page with her finger and closing the book in her lap. "Have you read it?"
"Yes, and I shan't tell you the end. Unless you beg me prettily, of course."
"Do you think it possible for a man to disappear that way? To be alive somewhere when everyone else has given him up for dead?"
"I suppose it must be. The book is said to be based on a true story. Some Scotsman, Alexander Selkirk, got himself in trouble while playing at pirates, and was
marooned for four and a half years."
Sarah nodded thoughtfully and leaned back against the cushions. He lifted his arm carefully, reaching it tentatively around her shoulders, and almost without thought, she sighed and leaned back into him. She'd been sad and alone for such a long time. It had been over two years since she'd felt the warmth and the strength of a man pressed against her. She'd forgotten how wonderful it felt.
Easing the book from her grasp, he placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her closer, leaning forward until his lips brushed hers.
It had been so long! Flooded with sensation, Sarah turned fully into his embrace, but as he deepened the kiss, the memory of other arms and other lips intruded. Good God! What's wrong with me? she thought in despair, blinking back tears and pulling away.
"I had not thought you to be coy, madam," Killigrew said, letting her go. "Surely I did not mistake your interest?" So we're to play this tired old game, he thought. How very disappointing.
"No, my lord, you did not," she said, surprising him. "I just... I'm really very sorry. I thought that I could... that is, I wanted ... Oh hell and damnation! I'm so sick of this!" she cried, bursting into tears.
Nonplussed, he searched for a handkerchief. Her tears were clearly genuine, but he had no idea what he'd done to provoke them. "Take this, my dear. I do apologize if I've caused you distress. I assumed you were as eager as I."
"It's not you, my lord, and I suppose you might call me Sarah now that you've kissed me," she said, drying her eyes. "You asked me a few days ago if I had any significant attachments and I didn't answer you. I really didn't know how. There is someone... was someone ... I don't know! Someone I love very much. I haven't seen him for a very long time. Two years ago he simply vanished, swept into the sea."
"Ah. I'm so sorry."
"He... My brother and my cousin tell me that he's dead, but I find it very hard to believe. There is no proof of it, you see, and I promised him that I'd wait for him as long as it takes. Lately I've been so confused. I'm really very sorry, William. It was not my intent to lead you on. I'm just so tired of being alone and I find you so amusing and appealing. I thought maybe . .."
"Please don't apologize, my dear," he said, patting her hand and rising to fetch her a brandy. "I don't deserve it. I'm a conscienceless rogue, bent on seduction, and deserved a good set down. It must be deuced awkward for you," he continued, returning with two drinks and lounging alongside her again, this time keeping his hands to himself. "If you accept that he's dead, you betray your promise to him if he's yet alive."
"Yes, exactly! No one seems to understand that. And I don't feel that he is dead. Do you see?"
"I do. But what if you're wrong? If you spend your life waiting for a dead man, you deny yourself the future and spend your life in sorrow. Would he expect that of you, my dear?" he asked gently.
"No, he wouldn't. I'm certain of it. But then he's never really expected anything much from anyone."
"So... you will wait?"
"I will wait. But I will continue on with my life and stop being such a bloody martyr about it."
"How long does one wait in such circumstances?"
"It's a very good question, William. I don't know the answer, but I expect that somehow I'll recognize when it's been long enough."
"And what of me, fair Gypsy? Was I to be a purely medicinal diversion, a cure for the melancholy, or do you like me, if only a little?"
"False humility ill becomes you, Killigrew. You are well aware that I like you rather a lot."
Grinning broadly, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. "Then perhaps you would allow me to call upon you, should my affairs bring me to Cornwall in the future."
"I should be most delighted," she said with an answering grin.
***
The snow had changed to rain overnight, followed by mild winds, and by morning the roads were rapidly drying out. Sarah spent part of the morning negotiating an exchange of broodmares with the new earl, and the rest of it getting ready to resume her journey. She was dressed in breeches and boots, and just about to take her leave when two carriages came rolling up the drive. They stopped in a commotion of hooves and greetings and flouncing petticoats, and spilled a glittering assortment of lords and ladies into the courtyard.
"Are you certain you can't stay another day?" Killigrew asked her mischievously.
"Quite certain, my lord," she said, cli
mbing into her carriage and offering him her hand.
"Ton my word, I do believe that's the Gypsy Countess, and dressed as a lad!" one of the gentleman remarked. "Wonder what she's doing here?"
"I should think that would be obvious," a glacial blonde responded, to amused titters.
"Oh, dear me! Have I annoyed your mistress, William?" Sarah asked sweetly.
"What? Do you mean Barbara? Lady Wilmont? You wound me, dear girl! I am known for my good taste and fondness for a challenge."
Sarah's eyes lit with amusement as Killigrew kissed her hand. "Well, in any case, I am publicly accounted one of your discards now, my lord. The least you can do is offer me a mare, as compensation for accepting my conge with such dignity."
"And so I shall, Countess, if you promise not to disclose that 'twas you who rejected me," he said, walking alongside her coach.
"Well, my reputation is already ruined. I see no point in damaging yours. Your secret is safe with me. Till we meet again, sir."
"Till we meet again, Sarah," he said with a laugh, rapping on the side of the coach and stepping back. He stood in the drive watching her leave, even as his company clamored for his attention. So... his rival was a dead man. He would have to be, to leave such a jewel unattended. It presented some interesting difficulties, but nothing insurmountable. With a satisfied smile, the Earl of Falmouth returned to his guests.
***
Sarah loved approaching London after dark. From eight miles out, the roads were bordered by lamps lit with crystal balls, providing a beautiful glow that transformed the squalid and mundane into something magical, and full of promise. One never knew what adventure might await. The town house was situated in the west end overlooking a pleasant square. The skeleton staff, forewarned by Ross, had managed to open and air it and fill it with the welcoming odor of roast beef and baked bread. Sarah unpacked, had her dinner, and tumbled into bed, exhausted.
The next few days were busy ones. She visited the circulating library on Bond Street, and bought Christmas presents for Jamie, Ross, and Davey. Going through her mail, she found several interesting invitations. Her family had kept up a lively correspondence with many of the leading thinkers of the age, and though she was not welcomed by the best society, she was warmly received by the most interesting.
She visited galleries and museums and attended the salon of Lady Webster, a semirespectable friend from before her marriage, who was now a writer. Sarah found these evenings in the company of writers, scientists, musicians, and others from the demimonde, far more interesting than any she might have spent in the stifling bosom of the ton. The night she enjoyed the most, however, was one she spent at William Herschel's, an astronomer friend and music teacher who had constructed a large telescope with the aid of his brother and sister, from which they had discovered two satellites of Saturn.
Heading home, she realized that she'd crowded more living in the past three weeks than she'd done in the last two years. It was a grand day. The air was crisp, the sky was clear, and she was glad and grateful to be alive. She'd really only had a year with Gabriel, and come the spring it would be two and a half years since he'd left her. She thought about what William Killigrew had said, and knew that he was right. Gabriel would never expect her to wait.
She wondered what life might have been like had he returned home with Davey, as he was supposed to do. She'd thought never to marry again. Her own experience, and what she'd witnessed amongst her friends and acquaintances, had convinced her that she would never let any man rule her body, her fortune, or her life, but Gabriel had been different. She knew he'd been faithful to her, much against the fashion, and much to the disappointment of the maids and village girls. He'd had no thought of ruling her, content to be friend and lover, and he'd been far more concerned about leaving her fortune to her own use than she was. Above all, he'd taught her the joy and pleasure a man could give a woman. Her lips and toes curled as she remembered his heated kisses. She'd not hesitated an instant when he'd come to her in the night asking her to marry him, and she didn't regret it now. At least she'd had that time with him.
The problem was that he had taught her to appreciate a man in a way she never had before, and to be lonely in a way she had never imagined. She thought of Killigrew, and wondered for the first time, if Ross hadn't known damn well what he was about, hadn't put him deliberately in her path. The thought should have made her angry, but it didn't. He was a challenge that any sensible woman would stay well clear of. Charming, handsome, and very wicked, he was a licentious rake, but she'd sensed something more, and his cynical good humor held great appeal. Sensible, or not, she found herself interested in someone for the first time in years.
Arriving home two days before Jamie did, she was immediately caught up in the bustle of holiday preparations. Her good cheer communicated itself to the rest of the household, and although they passed a quiet Christmas, it was a very pleasant one. When Davey came, tentative and careful around her, as he always was these days, she threw her arms around him and gave him a great hug, knowing he'd taken her silence for blame. "I'm so sorry, Davey. I've been unforgivably selfish. I don't blame you for it, you know. It wasn't your fault. Not at all. It's just been so hard."
He hugged her back, relieved, and thankful for the return of the easy camaraderie and deep affection that had always been between them.
Sarah greeted the New Year with excitement. She'd received several letters from London, including one from her old friend Lady Webster, inviting her to go mountain climbing in Italy with her and Lady Spenser in the spring. There was also a very charming letter from the Earl of Falmouth, thanking her for her visit and inviting her to call upon him in London should she find herself so inclined. She thought that she might take him up on it. Perhaps she would write and invite him to visit her in Cornwall. But not yet. She felt as if she'd finally woken from a deep sleep, and she had no intention of losing herself in it again, but every night she dreamed of Gabriel, and she supposed, even though he’d not expect it, she would wait awhile longer.
***
The coming of spring found Sarah in the stables help ing Simmons with the foaling. She was expecting to leave for Italy within the month, after a quick stop in London to renew old acquaintances. The thought made her grin. Ross had gone to Holland on business and was expected back anytime, and when a servant came to inform her of his return, and his request to see her immediately, she hurried to the house. He greeted her with a warm hug, but he was clearly uneasy, eyeing her with a mixture of trepidation and solicitude that he hadn't shown in months.
"Good God, Ross, whatever's the matter? You're making me nervous."
Sighing, he poured them both a drink. "Sarah, I've recently had some information from a fellow who served under me almost ten years ago. I'm not sure how reliable it is, and I've debated telling you. I want you to understand that I put very little credence in it, but I feel you have a right to know."
"Tell me what, Ross? What information?" Sarah asked, her heart pounding.
"Well, my dear, the fellow claims to have been taken prisoner off the Barbary Coast a few years back.
He had recently escaped his captivity you see, and he came to me, as his former commander, to see if I might help him back on his feet. He claims to have served some corsair captain, as a renegado, a fellow who's turned Turk, as they say. He says he escaped with two Frenchmen and some other crew members, when they were placed on a prize ship. One of them was the second in command. The thing is, Sarah ... it seems most unlikely, but from the way he described this man, he sounded somewhat like Gabriel."
"Oh, my God!" Sarah threw herself at Ross, hugging him excitedly, laughing and crying at the same time. "He's alive! I knew it. Oh, I knew it. Oh, thank God! Where is he, Ross? Surely you asked the fellow where he is?"
"Calm yourself, Sarah," Ross said, gently detaching himself and guiding her back to her chair. "You mustn't get your hopes up. As I told you, I doubt very much it could be him. Surely if it were, Davey would h
ave found him long before now. The man I spoke with made good his escape ten months ago. He says the Frenchmen went to Paris, and then on to London. Surely if one of them were Gabriel he would have contacted you immediately. I tell you this not because I believe it. I simply felt it was something you needed to know."
"You're quite right, Ross," Sarah said, stunned and elated. "I most certainly needed to know."
Chapter
31
Napoleon, upon his triumphant return to Paris, had proclaimed a general amnesty for most classes of French exiles, and within the first year of the consulate over forty thousand families had been permitted to return, the chevaliers among them. By the time Gabriel and Jacques arrived in Paris, the city was thriving, teeming with soldiers, citizens, returning old guard, and eager British tourists who'd swarmed across the channel shortly after the treaty was signed. It was a cosmopolitan city, particularly in the summer of 1802. Even so, they created somewhat of a stir as they strode down the streets of Paris in flowing burnooses, armed to the teeth.
"Il faut d'argent" were the chevaliers first words upon entering the city.
"What do you propose, Jacques? We left a bloody fortune behind us. That's two I've lost now. We do have this, though." Gabriel reached under his burnoose
and pulled out the purse he'd pilfered from de Sevigny, tossing it to his companion.
"But this is very nice, indeed, Gabriel! I propose we invest it at the Palais Royale."
"Are you suggesting we apply ourselves to vice, Chevalier?"
"Most assiduously, yes. I have led une vie manquee until now. It's hardly the time to stop. I assure you I'm very well suited to it."
"I don't doubt it. I have had some small success at the gaming tables myself. I've noted that with the proper skill and attitude one can reliably turn the play to one's advantage."
Well, then, my friend," Valmont said, tossing Gabriel back the purse, "I suggest we prepare our offensive. We must divert and distract. We must shimmer, dazzle, and shine, and above all, we must not appear a la bourgeois"
