The Offer

by Catherine Coulter

  She shook her head wearily. “Let’s part friends, Phillip. I won’t marry where there is no love. It’s not you. It’s not Richard. It’s me and what I know I have to have to live my life with a modicum of contentment.”

  He was getting weary of his lack of success with logic, so why not try something utterly unexpected? He leaned forward, laying his hand on her arm. “Perhaps,” he said, his voice thick and low, “I should take you now. It’s certainly what everyone will believe, once it’s known you’ve been with me. Believe me, Sabrina, I don’t mind that you are, at the moment, at your most womanly.”

  She was speechless, for a good two seconds, then she pulled back her arm and sent her fist into his jaw. He jerked back and she caught his ear. She was strong and it hurt. She rolled away clumsily to the other side of the bed and sat up, wrapping the covers around her.

  He cursed, then plowed his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. Damn, I was just trying to make a point. I was just trying to make you see the truth of the situation. I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m not a bad fellow, you know that. I’m not Trevor. That was all an act. Listen, Sabrina, we will manage to rub along quite well together. Can’t you trust me in this?”

  She said nothing. However, she did move back to the center of the bed. “I did something else,” he said finally, since she was as silent as a clam, looking straight ahead, mutely suffering his presence. “Charles and I decided what had to be done. He is at this moment speaking to your grandfather, telling him that you’re safe, telling him that your reputation will be safe, telling him that you and I will marry. When you next see your family, it will be as my betrothed.”

  “Phillip, I am not a fallen woman. I was simply very sick. Does that somehow make me immoral? I’m not sorry that you found me because you saved my life. Given that, do you ever believe I would make you pay for your kindness? Now, enough of all of this. Will you please take me to Borhamwood?”

  He looked down at her, at a loss for words. He realized that he could not very well abduct her and force her to the altar. Well, he could, but it would require a lot of work, and frankly he was tired. Damnation, what the hell was he supposed to do?

  He looked toward the window at the sound of horses and a carriage drawing up in front of the hunting box. Sabrina paled at the sound.

  “Time’s up, Sabrina.” He turned, his brow raised.

  She shook her head.

  He turned and without a backward glance strode from the room.

  He met Charles at the front door and saw that the carriage drawn up outside had no earl’s crest on its door.

  “It’s my carriage,” Charles said. “Come into the parlor, Phillip, we have a new and very different problem to deal with now.”

  Phillip shut his mouth on an oath and followed Charles into the parlor. “Well? Don’t keep me waiting, Charles. Spit it out.”

  “The Earl of Monmouth has had a stroke. The physician will allow no one to see him. He assured me that he would tell the earl that Sabrina was safe and well, but he feared that the old man would not even understand.”

  “I see,” Phillip said, and indeed he did see. “Trevor is now the master.”

  “Yes, both Trevor and Elizabeth. It would interest you to know that Elizabeth had already called in the men from their search for Sabrina. Actually, I think, from the looks they were giving each other, that the two of them had hoped she was dead. I really have difficulty believing this. Elizabeth was never a particularly likable girl, but now I find her cold and hard.”

  “Still, Charlie, why did you bring your carriage?”

  “There’s more, Phillip. When I told Elizabeth that Sabrina was safe, she inquired rather urgently, I thought, what Sabrina had told me about her running away. I told her that I didn’t know the details, but that Sabrina had likely spoken to you. I saw her glance meaningfully at her husband. Then the both of them hastened to tell me that Sabrina had left the Abbey because she had tried to seduce Trevor and he had rebuffed her. They were surprised that she’d left, but thought it was because she was too ashamed to stay.” Charles ran a distracted hand through his hair. “You know they’ll be telling everyone in Yorkshire who will listen their version of this wretched affair. In any case, Elizabeth then told me in the coldest voice I’ve ever heard in my life that she would find it difficult to forgive her sister for what she had done. She did offer to take her back, but I realized I couldn’t allow it.”

  “And what did Trevor say to this?”

  “That was the final nail in the coffin as far as I was concerned. Trevor told me that he had forgiven Sabrina, that indeed he wanted Sabrina back, told me he would care for her himself, that he wanted her well again, that he’d missed her. He assured me that he loved his little sister and he would care for her always. My skin was crawling. I thought Elizabeth would leap on him.”

  “To hell with both of them. Surely no one would believe such drivel, particularly if they’ve known Sabrina all her life. Knowing her, no one could think she was anything other than painfully innocent and sweet as a—” He stopped. To Charles’s astonishment, red stained his friend’s cheeks, making his cheekbones more prominent. Phillip got hold of himself. “As I was saying, Sabrina finally told me, after much prodding, that Trevor tried to rape her and her dear sister took his side against her. And that, Charles, was why she ran away. I tell you, I’ve only known Sabrina for five days now, but I know that she wouldn’t lie.”

  “And you’re right about the folk hereabouts. Sabrina is known and well liked. No one would believe that she would try to seduce Elizabeth’s husband. Not because they’re all so generous, but because they know that Richard Clarendon wanted to marry her. They would think Trevor versus Richard, and come up with the proper answer.”

  “That’s of little consolation,” Phillip said. He raised his eyes to his friend’s face. “Sabrina won’t marry me. I’m not to be allowed to sacrifice myself, in her words. I tried everything. She wouldn’t budge. Odd, you know, Charles, but I forgot my own ill treatment trying to get her to come around.”

  “No, I can’t believe that. She won’t have you? Impossible, Phillip. Wait a minute, there’s Clarendon. She would rather have Richard?”

  “No, she doesn’t want Richard either. Indeed, she told me she barely knows him. He’s nothing to her. Look, Charlie, I can’t very well beat her. You want to take her to Moreland?”

  “Yes. The only problem is that most of my guests are still there. Margaret will be delighted to see Sabrina, of course, and will most likely insist on taking over the care of her. Despite your efficiency, Phillip, once back in civilization, you must relinquish your patient.”

  “If we have her there, then it will buy us more time. It will be difficult to break all of this to her.”

  “There’s no need.”

  Both men whipped about. Sabrina stood in the doorway, her hair streaming about her shoulders and down her back, holding the overlarge dressing gown tightly about her. There were circles beneath her eyes. She was too pale, too thin. She looked like she was teetering on the edge.

  “Ah, Sabrina,” Phillip began, and took a quick step toward her, his hands outstretched.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Charlie. I’m sorry that the circumstances are so horrid.”

  Charles was staring at her, he couldn’t help it. She looked terrible. He felt a knot in his belly. “Sabrina, you’re ill.”

  “Will Grandfather recover, Charlie?”

  Charles knew he couldn’t lie to her. “His physician doesn’t know, Sabrina. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s my fault,” she said more to herself than to either of the two men. “If I hadn’t run away, then he wouldn’t have worried. He thought I was dead. I’m responsible for this, all of it.”

  Sabrina looked at Phillip, at his hands, which were still outstretched. She fell where she stood, the dressing gown flaring out about her like an unfurling green fan.

  20

  Phillip looked over the sloping west lawn of M
oreland, watching the gray afternoon shadows lengthen into night. He turned at the sound of Richard Clarendon’s angry voice.

  “Damnation,” Richard was saying to Charles, his dark eyes deepening as the frown of his forehead grew more pronounced. “Do you swear you’ve told me all of it? All right, I believe you. I’m going to put a bullet through that filthy bastard right now.” One thing about Richard, Phillip thought, watching him draw on his gloves, when he made a decision, whether in anger or in infinite calm, he acted immediately.

  “Richard,” Phillip said, turning from the window, “stop this minute. I’m sorry, but unfortunately the old earl isn’t in any shape to take Sabrina’s side in this. He’s too ill to refute what Elizabeth and Trevor have claimed happened. Very simply, it is their word against Sabrina’s. And since she ran away, in the eyes of society such an action would point to her guilt rather than away from it.”

  “Don’t be such a cold-blooded bastard, Phillip. You know as well as I do that Sabrina wouldn’t have a clue about seducing any man, much less that little fop I met at Monmouth Abbey. Good God, he made my skin crawl with his softness and prettiness.” He nearly shuddered with revulsion.

  “Let me finish, Richard. The fact remains that Sabrina wasn’t raped. Also, even though I promised Sabrina I wouldn’t kill him, obviously that doesn’t extend to you. But please consider this. There is simply no other male relative to inherit the title. It’s Trevor or the earl’s line is extinct. I believe you need to think very clearly about whether or not you want to dispatch the little fop to hell before he’s had an heir off Elizabeth.”

  That made the marquess thoughtful. Slowly, he began to draw the exquisite black leather glove off his right hand. He said slowly, “You know, that’s a powerful point, Phillip, and I think you’ve provided the answer. Once Elizabeth bears the heir, then I’ll kill Trevor. Yes, that’s a fine plan. I’d be a fool to tell him I’ll kill him once his heir is born. He’d never bed Elizabeth if he knew the consequences of her bringing a child into the world. No, it will be our secret, just between the three of us.”

  “I agree,” Phillip said. “But when the time comes, Richard, we will discuss it again. You will not simply act alone. Do you agree?”

  “No,” the marquess said.

  “It might be ten years before there’s an heir,” Phillip said. “The world might be very different in ten years. Promise me, Richard.”

  “Damn you, Phillip. Very well. I promise.”

  “Yes, and another thing, Richard,” Charles said, “you really don’t want to have to escape to the Continent for killing the little rotter. Your father would likely offer himself in your place were you to do that.”

  “More likely your father would claim he’d killed Trevor,” Phillip said. Both men knew that the Duke of Portsmouth regarded his son and heir as a god. Richard could do no wrong in his eyes. They both quite envied him his father.

  “I’m blessed in my father,” Richard said at last. “Oh, all right. If we decide to kill the bastard after the heir is born, then it will have to be done in secret. I don’t want to have to leave England, and I sure as hell don’t want my father involved. And the both of you are right. He would involve himself. He would fling himself in front of a firing squad to save me.” He sighed deeply, then slammed a fist against a table, making its legs tremble. “But not to do anything to him galls me.”

  “I know just what you mean,” Charles said as he walked to the sideboard and poured three brandies.

  “I’ve got it,” Phillip said after he took a sip of the sinfully excellent brandy, doubtless smuggled from France. “I will go beat the little bounder to the ground. I won’t kill him. I’ll be very careful not to kill him in fact, but I’ll hurt him. I think I’ll break his nose. That will make women look at him and shudder.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Charles said, tipping his snifter to Phillip’s. “I’ve heard that Trevor, married to Elizabeth only for a short time, is already bedding the comely maids at Monmouth Abbey. Yes, Phillip, break his nose, shove it off center, make him look like a gargoyle.”

  “No,” Richard said, tossing his brandy down in one gulp. “I’m the one to marry her. I’m the one to avenge her even though it’s Phillip’s plan. Give me your plan, Phillip, and I’ll smash that bastard’s nose in within the hour.”

  “She won’t marry you, Richard, so I’ll keep my plan.”

  Charles stared at the two men, then he laughed. They both turned on him. “Actually, Sabrina doesn’t want either of you. I’ve known her since she was born. Thus it is my responsibility to avenge her. I’ll enjoy breaking his nose. How about his right arm as well?”

  It was Phillip who began to chuckle. “We sound like a pair of boys, Richard. Cry peace. All right, Charles can break his nose.”

  “Oh, very well,” the marquess said. “And his right arm as well, Charles. Don’t muck it up.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I don’t know,” Richard said slowly, frowning ferociously. “Perhaps I should go with you just to make certain you don’t make any mistakes.”

  “Now if anyone should accompany me, it should be Phillip. After all, he’s the one who saved Sabrina’s life and nursed her back to health.”

  If Phillip had been closer, he would have been tempted to break Charlie’s damned nose. Why the devil must he remind Richard about the role he had played in Sabrina’s case? He waited for Richard to explode. He’d been only momentarily sidetracked. No longer. Richard regarded him as much a rake as himself, though it wasn’t true.

  But bless the fates, Richard had no chance to veer to this new fertile land. At that moment the library door was flung open and Teresa Elliott ran on graceful feet into the room, turned to Phillip, and threw her arms around him.

  “Phillip! You’re alive, you’re well, you’re here at last. You should have been here when I arrived, but you elected to be different and to ride your own path. It wasn’t well done of you. Just look what happened. You found that wretched girl and had to hide yourself for five days. Five days, Phillip. It was unbearable without you here.”

  Phillip set her away from him. She didn’t release her hold on his arms. He wanted to tell her that she’d reddened her lips too much.

  Very carefully, he pulled away, catching her hands and holding her off a distance of a foot.

  “Oh, dear, you must be exhausted. One can just imagine what you’ve had to do with that girl, being with her constantly. I don’t suppose she was younger than fourteen, was she?”

  He just shook his head. Teresa knew exactly how old Sabrina was, probably to the day and the hour, he’d bet on it.

  But he asked anyway. “How is it that you know what I’ve been doing for the past five days?”

  She pursed her lips into a pout she’d obviously been practicing in her mirror, and on other gentlemen as well. “It’s obvious for all to see, my lord. Did you not arrive with her here? Did you not carry her upstairs and put her in her bed? Was not her head on your shoulder as if she’d become quite used to having her head resting in that exact place on your person?” She gave a laugh that was a bit on the shrill side. “You know what servants are, my lord. I’ve been hearing quite the oddest stories.”

  “You shouldn’t listen to servants’ gossip, Teresa. It isn’t becoming.” But he knew full well that the matter was no doubt being discussed with great relish among both gentry and servants. “Are you acquainted with Richard Clarendon, the Marquess of Arysdale? Richard, Miss Elliott.”

  She was forced to turn from Phillip. When she got a full view of Richard Clarendon, the turn was worth it. He was dark as the devil, he had the look of a man who always knew exactly what he was doing, and she knew right to her toes that he would take a woman and make her scream with pleasure. She knew this and she was still a virgin. Her hand trembled as he took it and lightly kissed her wrist. If she hadn’t already promised Phillip her virginity, at least in her inner thoughts, Richard Clarendon would certainly be the next gentleman on her list
. She’d heard about him, of course. She wondered if it was true that the number of married ladies he’d bedded exceeded three dozen.

  “It’s a wonderful pleasure, my lord,” she said, watching his dark head bend over her wrist, seeing how finely he was put together. She’d never been this close to him before. It was a revelation. She smiled to herself, knowing that her beauty normally had such an effect on most gentlemen. The marquess would be no exception.

  To her chagrin, the marquess said only, “My pleasure, Miss Elliott,” and turned abruptly away.

  Charles rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted was a scene from this young lady who should have been drowned on her sixteenth birthday. He saw that her eyes were glittering dangerously. She wanted Richard to fall all over her. Damnation, what was he to do? He cleared his throat, shot a look fraught with pleading toward Phillip, which the viscount ignored, then said, “My dear Teresa, you’ve come upon us at a rather trying time. We were discussing business. It is something I swear to you would be more boring than death. May we be allowed to enjoy your company at dinner?”

  “You know you’re discussing what to do with that miserable girl, not business.”

  “We will see you later, Teresa,” Phillip said in a firm tone his own father had often used with excellent effect on him when he’d been a boy.

  Teresa was more than curious. Phillip was hers and she had to know what had gone on between him and the girl upstairs in a guest bedchamber. But even she had enough wit to realize that now wasn’t the time. They were closing her out. It was aggravating. She frowned at the marquess, but he was staring into the fireplace. It was a nice fire, but it was she he should be looking at with such concentration. She would think about whether or not she would take him as a lover after she’d given Phillip his requisite heir. Why did he care about that girl upstairs?