"This letter..." he began shaking it lightly, but he never had the chance to finish his sentence. Sarah cut him off before he could. Apparently, she had only been taking a pause for breath a moment before. Her silence had not been an invitation for him to speak. His mistake.
"And might I remind you that you gave up any right you had to order me about when you kissed me and then disappeared without so much as a note to say that you were leaving!" Her chest was heaving now and Rayne did his best not to notice how delightful her breasts looked as she did so. Notions like that were what had landed him in his situation in the first place. "For all I knew, you were back with your whore! Not that I care one whit either way, but for someone who places such a great empahsis on family and a lady's reputation, I expected better of you! Especially after you kissed me and then made me no better than she is! Or was! Or whatever!"
So. Still angry over the kiss, then. Rayne had expected Sarah would be, of course. Not that he regretted the kiss for a moment, mind you. If anything, it had been the most perfect kiss of his life. Except that years before, Frost had been extremely clear about his friends courting his sisters, especially Sarah. It was not to be done. Not ever. Men like Rayne weren't even supposed to so much as look at any of the Tillsbury sisters.
Well, to be fair, Rayne had looked, but he hadn't touched. Not even when he was so desperate to do so that he hurt. Didn't that count for something? Surely it must. For other than that kiss, which Sarah had all but goaded him into, he had been nothing less than a proper gentleman. In fact, few other men - if any - would have been so proper. Especially not around a temptress like Sarah. He had been the perfect picture of propriety.
Wait. Wait one minute. Rayne paused as Sarah continued to screech at him like a banshee. He had done nothing wrong. She was the one running off without proper chaperonage. At least her brother thought so. Yes, Rayne had kissed Sarah, but it had only been a kiss. Again, if she was being reasonable, she would see it. Or...not, given the way her eyes were flashing emerald fire and she seemed to be on the verge of striking him. No, that was not like his Sarah at all and once more, he wondered what was wrong with her. Because this was about more than a kiss. Or his lack of a note to her, which, to her credit, had not been well-done of him. But it was only a note.
And she had no right to disparage him in this manner. Not when he had come to rescue her. If she had needed rescuing. Which apparently, she hadn't.
Still, it was now his turn to unleash his long-pent-up anger, and along with it, all of the fear that he had kept bottled up inside of him as he had raced on horseback from Fairfield, the Duke of Enwright's estate where he had been enjoying a house party, to this far corner of Oxfordshire where he expected to find Sarah in some sort of dire straights. That was not his fault. It was hers.
"And it never occurred to you to inform your brother of this little jaunt of yours?" Rayne snapped right back at her, now feeling fully justified in his anger as well.
"Why should I?" Sarah held herself proud and upright, so magnificent in her anger that Rayne wanted to simply take her right there and be done with things. "Besides, my mother sent him a note informing him of our plans. That was more than sufficient, especially as he is on his honeymoon." Now that her first flash of anger had passed, Sarah's urge to lash out at Rayne had lessened, even though she was still extremely angry. And just as confused, if not more so, than she had been before. Why was he even here?
"Clearly the missive did not reach him." Once more Rayne waved the wrinkled parchment under her nose. "For I received a letter at Fairhaven informing me that you were in great danger and that I should come look for you to make certain you were safe."
"Give me that!" Sarah snatched the paper from Rayne's hands and scanned it quickly. "Oh, for pity's sake! Did you even read this before you ran off like a wild man?"
Now it was Rayne's turn to leash his temper - just a bit anyway. "Of course, I did," he snarled testily. "How would I have come to the conclusion that you were in danger otherwise?"
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Because you are an idiot! A feather-brained, wit-addled idiot! That letter is so smudged that it can barely be read. It was likely rained upon during transport! Or caught in a flood, though how that is possible, I can't imagine since it has not rained in days! However if you look carefully, it is painfully obvious that my fool of a brother is advising you that I am traveling on to Hallowby alone and that, if you were so inclined, he would appreciate it if you stopped by on your way to your next house party to make certain I am well. Nothing more." She flicked the paper with her finger, the noise causing Taffy to chirp from her hiding place next to her sister. "Now, as you can see for yourself, I am quite well and protected. So you may just march yourself right back out that door and be on your way."
She turned to stalk off, but Rayne reached out and snagged her wrist. He couldn't help but notice that she trembled as he touched her. He was pleased to know that some spark of attraction still remained between them. "And leave you here alone with just servants for protection? I don't think so!"
"You have no say in the matter!" Sarah growled, trying to yank her arm away and failing. "You gave up any right you had the night you kissed me like I was one of your trollops and then disappeared without so much as a by your leave! Now go!"
"No!" Rayne was not about to leave Hallowby before this was settled - even if it took a fortnight or more. "I am not leaving until I am certain you are safe. And until we settle whatever this is between us and can be friends again."
This time when she yanked at her wrist, he let her go. "Then you will be waiting a very long time, my lord. And you can go to Hell for all I care!" With that, Sarah turned and stalked out of the room, breezing past the servants and slamming the door behind her.
For a long moment, no one spoke, not even the assembled servants who had all gathered outside the parlor when the shouting had begun. Then, a pitiful meow emanated from beneath the escritoire - Toffee he assumed from the dark ears - and the tension was broken.
"So," he said, clapping his hands together as he looked down at the cat, "that went well, don't you think?"
The only response was another pitiful meow, this time from Taffy.
Colleen coughed and then dipped into a curtsey though her face bore a sour expression. "At least she didn't kill you, my lord. She's been stalking about here nigh on six days now grumbling about how she would do just that if she saw you again. Or skin you alive. I'd consider meself lucky, were I you."
Damn. The situation was worse than he had assumed. Given that this was Sarah he was dealing with, he had thought she would understand. He had hoped - for both of their sakes - that she would simply shrug off the kiss the same way she had shrugged off the unwanted attention of so many other men over the years. He had been wrong. And he had no idea why. She didn't care for him in that manner, no matter what his slightly foxed brain had insisted that night of the betrothal ball.
However, Rayne also knew that he could not leave Hallowby until he straightened this mess out. He wouldn't rest otherwise. And he suspected neither would Sarah.
Much as she had denied it earlier, there was something going on with her, something that was making her extremely unhappy. He was her friend and it was his duty to get to the bottom of it. For both of their sakes, especially if he had any hope of regaining her friendship - which he had likely damaged even further by barging in as if he was some small invading army.
Then he glanced at the letter from Frost once more, realizing in an instant that Sarah had been correct. Frost had merely been asking Rayne to check on his sister, not rescue her. If he hadn't still been so flummoxed over that kiss, he likely would have realized that without it having to be pointed out to him.
Rayne had made an utter mess of things. He also knew that he had likely hurt Sarah as well. No, he couldn't leave - not for North Africa and not for the house party at Wellingham Grange - until he righted this situation. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long. The more time
he spent in Sarah's presence, the more likely he was to do something foolish. Or more foolish than he had already been.
Turning to the assembled staff, he gave them his best cheeky grin, the same one he used on women when he wished to get his way. "Well then. Seems I've got a bit of explaining to do."
Wilson cleared his throat. "And some apologizing, too, my lord, if I may be so bold." The old man quirked an eyebrow at Rayne. The butler had watched both Rayne and Sarah grow up, and Rayne considered the man a good judge of both situation and character. If he felt that Rayne would benefit from apologizing, then he would do so.
He could only nod in agreement. "Quite right. So how should I go about it, then? Flowers? Erm, something to do with the cats?" He gestured to Toffee and Taffy who were both still glaring at him from beneath the escritoire for daring to upset their mistress.
"Raspberry tarts." That came from Mrs. Dowdy. "I know just the thing."
A wave of unexpected relief washed over Rayne. At least someone here had a solution, and it certainly wasn't him. "Raspberry tarts you say? Then let me hear it, my good woman and be quick. For I fear I have much to make up for where your mistress is concerned. Otherwise, I fear that you will wake on the morrow and find my head on a pike in the middle of the entry hall." Actually, Rayne knew he had rather a lot to make up for where Sarah was concerned. He also hoped that she would forgive him.
He might never be able to have her, but he still needed her friendship. Of that much he was certain.
Chapter Three
A light summer breeze ruffled Sarah's hair as she sat on a small rock overlooking Hallowby's small lake, the cooler air making the stifling summer heat that had been gripping all of southern England these last few weeks a bit more bearable. She prayed that no one would find her for a good long while, for she was completely mortified by her behavior back in the parlor. She was a lady and did not behave like some sort of screeching harpy. At least not normally.
However, this was Rayne and ever since that kiss, she had been unable to think clearly where he was concerned. No, if she was being honest, she had not been able to think clearly since long before that. For as long as she could remember, the man had muddled her mind and left her wanting and confused. The kiss hadn't changed that. It had, however, made it much worse.
So had him charging into her parlor like a white knight out to rescue the damsel in distress. Something that could never be, no matter how much she wished otherwise.
Sarah had been so very certain that she knew what she wished for in her future. Since she could not have Rayne, she would retire from Society and live a quiet life in the country. Then he had gone and kissed her, giving her a taste of what she could have - if only things were different. After that, all she could think of was how she might obtain what she most desired. She had never stopped to think that he might not desire her in return. That it had merely been a joke for him. A tease. A chance to taste forbidden fruit he did not actually want. That was all she had ever been to him and she knew that. She also should have recognized the truth of the matter long before now.
Exhaling slowly, Sarah knew she had to apologize to Rayne and soon. She needed this situation put back to rights. Before this thing between them festered until there was no hope of going back to being friends. She didn't want that, and for the briefest of moments, she wished he had never kissed her. If he hadn't, none of this would have happened. Then again, if there hadn't been a kiss, she never would have discovered how perfectly lovely he tasted or how firm his lips were - all things that she, or any proper young lady for that matter, should not know.
Except that Sarah didn't feel young any longer. In fact, she felt as old as the crumbling piles of moss-covered stones that marked the ruins of Hallowby's old church. She had been an adult, or at least acted like one, for a very long time now and it had begun to wear on her. She knew that she was fortunate. Some ladies of her acquaintance, such as Lady Eliza, had been forced to care for their entire family for much of their young lives. Sarah had not been that put upon, but she had endured her share of burdens just the same and it had all but worn her to the bone. It was yet another part of who she was. Not that anyone, not even her family, ever saw all of her. Not even Frost, who saw more than most because he was her brother and loved her perhaps just a tad bit more than either Dory or Aurelia.
Was that why she had lashed out at Rayne the way she had? Was it because she was tired? Or was it because she now knew that he did not care for her as she cared for him? Perhaps it was a little bit of both?
However Sarah's actions earlier simply drove home to her the need for her to retire from Society. She did not have the luxury of being confused or wishing for things that could not be. She would do as Frost had asked and remain on the Marriage Mart one more year. She would even consider suitors if one struck her fancy, even though that was unlikely. Then she would disappear forever, and the ton would have to find a new One to take her place, a lady that would be held to such a high standard that she lived in constant fear of putting a foot wrong - at least in public.
Sarah had never particularly minded the label of The One. After all, there was nothing wrong with being held to a high standard in her opinion. What had always bothered her was that no one ever took the time to look beyond the label to see if there was anything more to her than just a pretty face and proper manners. Because there was. Quite a bit more. If anyone had bothered to look past the surface, Sarah might have found another man to capture her interest the way Rayne had so long ago and she would be married by now, all thoughts of the unattainable earl locked away safely in the past. Then she remembered his kiss and decided that was unlikely. There was only one Earl of Heartbreak after all.
This was also not his fault. It was hers. And, to some extent her idiot brother's as well. Frost had no reason to send that note, especially not when Mama had made it clear that Sarah would be traveling to Hallowby with nearly the entire London townhome staff. And even if he had still sent the note to Rayne, she should not have over-reacted the way she had. True, Rayne should not have burst into her home in that manner, but he honestly hadn't known if she was safe or not, and the idea of a young woman traveling alone, even to her family's country estate was rather unusual. Rayne was also her friend and, kiss aside, he had likely been concerned for her safety. Really, it was her fault for being unable to let go of the kiss and act like the adult she proclaimed to be.
As always, she was making mountains out of mole hills, as Dory was so fond of saying.
It was also Sarah's fault that she was jealous of women like Marietta Crestwood who found Rayne's favor and made their way into his bed. He was behaving no differently than any other man of his age and station, and Sarah well knew it. She might not have to like it, but she did have to accept that was what young, unattached men did with their nights, and she should not fault him for it.
Decision made, Sarah hopped off the rock and dusted off her skirts. She was about to go in search of Rayne when Metford, the under butler who had accompanied her from London, approached bearing a rolled up piece of parchment on a silver salver.
"My lady." Metford offered her the salver with a rather curious look in his eyes. "I have been requested to secure your answer before I return." He held the salver up a bit higher. "If you would be so kind?"
Giving the man a quizzical look, Sarah unrolled the parchment and read the words that had been written in a very familiar and masculine hand.
My Dear Lady Sarah,
I should like to apologize for my abominable behavior this morning. I not only interrupted your tea time, but I terrorized your cats so that they now despise me. I also acted like a general buffoon - something that is not at all uncommon for me. As you know me well, I am certain none of this surprises you however. I am not known for my proper behavior on most occasions. However, I would very much like to attempt to make matters up to you. If you will allow me to do so, of course. You do not have to, but I would much appreciate the opportunity.
To atone for my crassness, I would like to invite you to dine with me at the obscenely early hour of five o'clock this afternoon in the Rose Room. I realize that it is a large parlor and not a typical dining area, but it does afford one a delightful view of the west rose garden. It also has rather thick carpets so that if necessary, I can fall prostrate before you far more easily to beg forgiveness. Said carpets are also rather dark in color so any blood of mine that you wish to shed would likely not show over much until they can be replaced.
If this arrangement pleases you, give your answer to Metford post haste. If it does not, then feel free to burn this missive or toss it in the lake or whatever you desire - all things I am certain you wish you could to do me.
Yours,
Rayne
P.S. If you do accept my invitation, please dress for dinner. I should hate to look a fool in my formal evening clothes. My valet, Aversely, has just arrived with my trunks so please, be kind - at least to him if no one else. It was his idea for me to freshen up before I "scared off even the bugs" to quote him. The next time you see him, please remind him that he is not so funny as he assumes.
With a sigh, Sarah handed the note back to Metford. "Please inform Lord Raynecourt that I shall be there. As requested."
"Very good, my lady." Metford bowed and then turned crisply on his heel before walking back down the pathway to the manor house.
The Earl of Heartbreak Page 5
