"I'm not. Your figure is most pleasing, lithe, and graceful. Your hands are delicate, elegant, light. Your intelligence and decency speak for themselves. I can't imagine any man not desiring you."
"Mr. Deveril, really, you are much too bold, sir." She rose from her chair to pace by the window.
His face fell. "I'm sorry. I've been too outspoken. I was merely making these observations from a spirit of friendship. I shall spare you any further blushes by keeping my opinions to myself. If you do not choose to wed, I quite understand. A woman as clever as yourself has every reason to wish to be mistress of her own fate."
She turned back to look at him but could seen no ulterior motives mirrored in his expression. "Thank you for the kind words. You make me sound like quite a paragon indeed."
Alexander sighed. "I'm sorry if my statements of warm regard have made you uncomfortable. It was not my intention. I really didn't mean to sound, so, well, sparkish with you."
"No, I imagine a well-spoken gentleman like yourself could have managed a more flirtatious mode of address than that. After all, you did primarily compliment me upon my character, and you've said as much before."
He laughed. "I hope that hasn't got your amour propre piqued. But to be fair, I can't accurately comment on your physical beauty, now can I, though I'm sure it's prodigious. The bald truth is that I wouldn't care what you looked like. I prefer a woman who has beauty of spirit to one who has simple feminine pulchritude."
"Ah, but the two together would be nice, would they not?" she teased.
He smiled broadly. "In that case I'm so glad I met you, aren't I?"
She slapped the back of his hand lightly. "Oh, you're crossing the line into boldness again, sir."
"I'm sorry. That's not the way to repay you for all your help."
She grasped his hand gently now. "I don't seek any payment other than to see you better, and about two stone heavier in weight some time in the near future. You're much too lanky for a man of your size." She blushed at her words and clamped her mouth shut once more.
Alexander too held his tongue, though he was sure he looked decidedly sheepish. The last thing he wanted was to say something risque which would shock her. Really, the woman was too good to be true. She was kind, bright, shapely, with a heavenly feminine scent, a lovely voice, musical talents, and fascinating conversation. She was also remarkably innocent for all her air of cool competence and worldliness.
No, not worldliness, he decided, but rather a practical grasp of the perils and pitfalls of their society. Sarah was no sheltered damsel, but a real flesh and blood woman. She had offered him friendship when he had been all alone in the world, at his lowest ebb. The last thing he wanted to do was have her pin her hopes on him, or he on her. Not when his entire life was so uncertain, as real and solid as a mirage.
"What is it, Alexander? Have I said something wrong?" she asked when she saw his expression alter.
"Not really. I was just thinking about how I was when I first came out of my coma. I was far worse then. Much thinner."
"How did they feed you all that time?" she asked, wonder in her tone.
"The monks put a long flexible hollow reed down my nose and poured broth and so on down into it with a funnel. They took care of my every need like I was a helpless infant."
She sat back down by his side. "Oh my. And they did that for a whole year?"
"That's right," he said with a curt nod.
"I've heard of the practice, but never seen it myself."
"No reason for a young lady like you to do so."
"I help in a clinic in London when I'm up in Town," she explained. "It's my penance for enjoying myself when I do go."
"A clinic?" he asked with interest, returning to his food once more just to please her.
"Yes, for fallen women," she informed him, for once managing not to color up under his surprised if blank stare. "We tend to their health and also try to help them if they wish to reform their lives."
His brows lifted. "And does your brother approve?"
"Most heartily. And all of his Radical friends the Rakehells do as well."
"That is most progressive of them all," he said in a surprised tone which nevertheless indicated approval.
"Indeed. But we all know it is often not the woman's fault in any way, but the man's. Women bear the brunt because of their visible proofs of sin, either a child, or, well, the loss of their maidenhead. The Rakehells are men of principle who practice what they preach. I have to admit that they have also not all been quite so respectable as one might think. Some of them are a bit rakish."
"Oh?" He gritted his teeth at the thought of anyone taking advantage of the lovely young woman. Including himself.
"Yes, indeed. One of their old school friends was actually a male prostitute who catered for women when he was a much younger man. He only did it to help rescue his family from debtor's prison, not because he was a wanton or anything. Rather the opposite, in fact. He was an excellent scholar until his family misfortunes started."
"My goodness, you do know some fascinating people," he said with genuine interest. "And what happened to him? Did you reform him in the end as well?" He realized his tone had become much harder. Damn it, was he starting to feel jealous?
"No, not at all. He got transported to Australia over ten years ago. He'll finally be coming back home soon. In fact, Philip might already be in England. He's supposed to come stay with Thomas when he does. They were always very close."
"Thomas?" he asked, once more feeling that choking green sensation.
"Thomas Eltham, the Duke of Ellesmere. He gave my brother the parishes of Brimley and Eltham. He's married to Charlotte, and they're expecting their first child in the autumn. I mentioned them last night."
He could feel himself relax again at those two welcome pieces of news. "Ah, yes. I recall now."
"I'm sure you'll be perfectly pleasant to everyone you meet. And I can see that you too are a tolerant and forgiving man. But please don't say anything to anyone about this, will you? About his friend Philip's past, I mean. He's trying to make a fresh start. He's changed his last name and everything."
He squeezed her hand. "No, of course not. It is no one's business but his. Besides, who would I tell? I would be glad to be his friend too. I'm no prude, and I'm sure there are many things I have done in my life which I regret. If you sense any bemusement in my tone, it's just that I find it quite ironic that I 'm desperately seeking to recall my past, and he's desperately trying to forget his."
"Yes, how true," she said pensively.
"And I would like to say at this point, though at the risk of sounding sparkish again, that this confirms all I suspected about you, Sarah. You really are an extraordinary woman, from a remarkable family. I'm proud to know you, and hopefully also all your friend when they return from their various travels."
"You're sure you're not shocked?" she asked in surprise.
"Not at all," he said truthfully, shifting more snugly under the bedclothes. "I pity those who have nothing to sell other than their bodies. Our society should provide for everyone, give each man and woman choices. I only wish more people would take a leaf out of your book and try to alleviate suffering and poverty wherever they can."
Sarah grinned and patted his hand, relieved that she had not appalled the handsome man after all. Most people ran a mile when she tried to get them to subscribe to the clinic, or even listen to her views.
"Jonathan will be so pleased to hear you say that. Even if he doesn't know who you really are, he will rub his hands together in glee and declare you an honorary Rakehell."
"I can't think of anything I'd like better," he said, and oddly enough every word he said was true. While none of what Sarah had told him had a familiar ring to it, he felt safe, at home for the first time in two years.
"Speaking of like, are you all finished, or would you care for something more to eat?"
"I'd love a cup of tea, and you reading more out of the paper. Somethin
g a bit more cheerful?"
She laughed lightly, trying not to let her fears get the better of her. "Tea and gossip coming right up."
She poured for him and settled back in her chair. "What would you like to hear?"
"Tell me the headlines and I'll say aye or nay."
They got on well enough, snug in the cozy blue room with the sun streaming in and the fire blazing. He was more interested in farming news than the details of the final days of the reign of Napoleon. He did not care about the Court Circular, and took only a passing interest in items about horses and hunting and shooting.
Sarah marveled at their similar tastes and loved sitting with him, touching him whenever he appeared to need her help.
After a time, he surprised her by asking, "Do you have a Bible?"
"Of course. This is a vicarage, after all."
"I like to hear passages from it. I find it helps keep me from being despondent."
"And what other things do you like to hear?"
"I like poetry, and plays, if people can do the different voices to help me follow what is going on. One of the men in the hospital was very good at that, and could do it in both English and French."
"My. He sounds a prodigy. What was wrong with him?"
"He lost both of his legs below the knees."
Her heart lurched in her chest. "Oh my, I'm so sorry." She stared at him, and watched his open, candid expression close up.
"I know. So am I." He put down his cup with a sigh.
Sarah could have kicked herself for her thoughtlessness. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't. I've had sufficient," he said gruffly.
"Some water?"
"Yes, please, that would be most welcome."
She poured for him, and he drank thirstily for a moment, before falling back against the pillows wearily.
"I'm done in again."
"I understand. I shall go have my bath. After that Caleb will come help you with your ablutions and toilette. Then we can talk about what you'd like to do for the rest of the day."
"Very good. Thank you, Sarah," he said, the lines in his face deepening with fatigue.
She took the tray away carefully and watched him for a time, reluctant to part with his company so soon, though they had been with each other for hours.
He curled up into a ball with his arm under the pillow, looking for all the world like a little innocent babe. At last he closed his eyes.
She stroked his hair once softly, reminded herself that he was a friend only, not a beau, and left him.
Chapter Six
Sarah hated leaving Alexander on his own, but she had things to do now that she was home at the vicarage after so many days away dealing with the bustle of the wedding and tending to her family and friends' affairs. She certainly couldn't wait another minute for her much longed for bath.
She went downstairs and enjoyed a good soak in the lavender-scented water. She washed her hair and rinsed it, then combed it out and wrapped it turban-like in a towel.
She dressed and picked her up discarded clothes, separating them for the laundry and to take back upstairs. Finally she opened the bathroom door and called to Caleb.
"You can lead Alexander down now. When he's done in here, you can bring him into my sitting room. Oh, and please don't forget that liniment of Jenny's. He said it really helped."
"I'll tell her to make up a fresh batch of it. We'll run out soon enough if she doesn't."
"Thank you, Caleb."
"Glad to help, Miss."
Sarah went into her sitting room to open and catalog the many gifts that still kept arriving for the newlyweds. She had no idea how many toasting forks a married couple needed, but if conjugal bliss were in direct proportion to them, Jonathan and Pamela would be the happiest of couples. She wrote out thank you notes, and prepared them for the post.
Then she started a letter to Jonathan, breaking the news to him about her unusual visitor in the most diplomatic way possible, giving a full physical description of him.
After a time she put it to one side, hoping to add more to it as soon as she got a chance to speak with Alexander further. She omitted mentioning Gareth being missing. There would be time enough to tell them the bad news without putting a damper on their honeymoon. Besides, they could be getting more news at any moment saying that all was well, and there were still all her letters from Michael and Blake to go through.
Whilst Sarah busied herself in the study, Alexander wallowed in the tub up to his neck, the water as hot as he could stand it without burning his skin. He was so content and free of pain for the first time that he nearly fell asleep in the tub. His mind drifted lazily over the events of the past few days, and he realized that for once he felt completely at peace. It truly was as if he had come home, yet he was certain he had never been here before in his life.
But just one touch of Sarah's hand was enough to fill him with all sorts of warm, pleasant feelings. She was such a comfort to be around, so soothing, yet exciting too, he reflected with an inward shiver of desire.
But one surreptitious exploratory hand when Caleb was out fetching the liniment was enough to tell him that the thought was not always the author of the deed. He sighed dejectedly and continued soaking, glad of the numbness in some ways, as embittering as it was.
"Are you all right, Mr. Alexander?" Caleb asked after a time.
"Yes, Caleb, just fine. This is wonderful," he sighed.
"It will be even better after we put the liniment on."
Alexander struggled stiffly out of the tub, his back feeling as prickly as a cactus. After he had dried himself, Caleb rubbed the cream in with his strong hands. The cream gave off a pleasant warming sensation, and he could feel his muscles unknotting even further in his lower back.
Alexander felt more flexible and tested his shoulders, moving them up and down, and testing his arms. He pivoted from side to side with his waist, and felt a burning sensation, but forced himself to twist a little bit further each time, biting his lower lip against the searing pain.
After a few more repetitions of his exercises he declared in surprise, "Yes, I'm much more limber."
"Good. Glad to help, sir."
"You're a good man, Caleb."
"And Miss Sarah is the best of women."
"Not to mention your wife, the best of cooks. That breakfast this morning was splendid," he observed, tugging on his shirt.
"I hope you'll eat more. You're far too thin, lad."
Alexander grinned. "I think I can be persuaded."
"Tough over there, was it, sir?"
Alexander paused in buttoning his shirt. "From what I recall, yes. But I was injured in the head and back and really remember very little."
"I understand. Well, you're more than welcome here so long as you mind your manners around Miss Sarah."
Alexander smiled. "Believe me, I would never do anything to harm the fair lady. I would admit to being very curious about her, though. Do you suppose you can tell me, is she, well-- Is she pretty?"
Caleb gave him a glowing description which was accurate even if it was biased. Alexander listened in thoughtful silence, picturing her in his mind's eye, and once again feeling the first flutterings of nascent physical desire.
"Are you ready?" Caleb asked after a time.
Alexander yanked himself out of his rather warm fantasy, telling himself he did not dare even think about the vicar's sister in such an unseemly manner. "How do I look?"
"Just fine. I'll let Miss Sarah tie your cravat. It's more than these old hands can manage."
"Oh, I'm sure not, Caleb. You have a healing touch with that liniment."
"Thank you sir. Glad to be of service."
The two men left the bathroom, and Caleb led Alexander to the small sitting room.
"There you are. Feeling better?" Sarah asked, rising to take his hand, and leading him to the day bed. Once again she remarked inwardly on how stunning he looked in a dark blue suit.
"Much better, thank you."
"Anything else we can get you, sir?" Caleb offered from the doorway.
He decided to take his hostess at her word and treat this as his true home. It was easier than he had ever imagined possible. "I'd love some coffee."
Sarah nodded. "So would I."
"Yes, Sir, Miss."
Caleb withdrew, and Sarah looked at her companion for a few seconds as he settled himself on the day bed. Then she went over to Alexander's side and tied his cravat mail-coach style. "There, perfect." She gave his chest a lingering caress.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 9
