Carefully, Lady Sarah turned the first page, revealing a detail of Thorncliff’s main entrance. “This is very intricate,” she said. Her finger drifted across the paper, drawing Christopher’s attention to the delicate structure of her hand. “Are there really two dragons perched above the door?”
“Yes,” he said, unable to ignore the fruity scent of her. He leaned slightly closer so he could explore it further. Citrus, perhaps? He cleared his throat. “Each is holding a gilt flag. They’re quite an atypical feature for an English manor, which is why I want to be certain I include them in the model.”
“Spencer loves originality,” Fiona said. And then, “Please excuse me a moment. I see Lady Genevieve over there, and I would so like to inquire about the gown she wore last night to dinner—it was very exquisite. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Spencer watched her go, exasperated by her conspicuous attempt at getting him alone with Lady Sarah, not that he minded such an outcome in the least. It was the method that bothered him. “If you turn the page, you’ll see that there are also tiny dragons peeking out from below the roofline.”
“So there are,” she said, studying the images. “I quite like them, I think.” Lifting her gaze, she met his, her cheeks coloring as she did so. Hastily, as if attempting to appease a shock of nervousness, she brushed aside a stray lock of hair and looked away.
No doubt Lady Sarah was affected by his close proximity, which in turn sent a coil of awareness spiraling through him. He leaned in once more, pretending to study his work as well. Instead he studied her; the pulse beating like the wings of a timid bird against the curve of her neck, soft skin that would feel so smooth to the touch, a spray of tiny freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. What was it about her that fascinated him so?
“You’re incredibly talented, my lord. The realism is astounding.” She hesitated a moment before saying, “But I fear the perspective may be wrong here.”
Ah yes, her directness.
She tapped her finger against the page. “These windows don’t seem to make sense. Perhaps the proportions are wrong?”
“Are you certain?” Dragging his eyes away from the corner of her mouth, he studied the drawing he’d made that afternoon of Thorncliff’s façade. Admittedly, something looked slightly off.
“The problem is here, I believe. The roofline doesn’t slant enough as it moves off into the distance. If you make it narrower here”—she moved her fingers to illustrate her vision—“I think it will look more accurate.”
“But then that tower will appear lopsided.”
“Not if you continue your line from here . . . to here. Hand me your charcoal and I’ll show you.” She held out her hand, then wrinkled her nose. “If you’d like me to, that is. I’ve no wish to impose.”
He handed her the charcoal, his fingertips briefly brushing her palm. She stiffened a little, then relaxed as she set to correcting his mistake. “There. I think that’s better. Don’t you agree?”
“You are most astute, my lady,” he told her sincerely, for he was indeed impressed by her ability to weed out such a tiny error that, once corrected, made a huge difference to the drawing as a whole. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me with the rest of my drawings?”
“I’d be happy to,” she said, but just as quickly as her smile had appeared, it faded as she said, “although, considering I am being courted by Mr. Denison, it might be unseemly of me to keep your company on a regular basis.”
Even though it shouldn’t have, given his own reluctance to pursue a serious relationship, he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. “I understand,” he said, “but if the model I make turns out crooked, you’ll be the one to blame.”
She laughed at that, which pleased him. Seeing her happy was like listening to birds sing or watching the sun rise—a spectacular gift of nature. It also made him long for closer contact with her, prompting him to nudge his shoulder playfully against hers.
“Lord Spencer,” she chastised in a bubbly tone with no attempt to hide her humor, “you are being entirely too familiar.”
“Does it bother you?” he risked asking.
She pursed her lips. “No, unless, contrary to what you told me yesterday, you are indeed trying to lead me astray.” She raised one eyebrow, and Christopher immediately saw that hidden beneath her attempt at amusement was a very serious question.
“Upon my honor, I would never,” he assured her, even though he knew he’d quite like to. But wanting and doing were two separate things. “As I’ve said, I have no interest in marriage.”
“That doesn’t quite answer my question.”
“I’m a gentleman, Lady Sarah.” He was sorely tempted to be a scoundrel. “I would never try to lead any woman astray. Will that suffice?”
She studied him a moment, then nodded. Returning her attention to the sketchbook, she turned the page and immediately drew a sharp breath. Christopher’s blood thundered through his veins. “Is that . . .” Her words caught as she stared down at the picture he’d drawn of her. “I look so animated.”
“Is that a compliment?”
There was a pause, and then she looked at him with deep emotion swimming in her eyes. “Absolutely.”
A rush of warmth swept over him even as the fear of her discovering the true depth of his admiration for her dissipated. Surely she would see what the picture revealed, for he’d captured not only her looks but her spirit as well.
“I should like to see your model of Thorncliff once it’s completed,” she said, her cheeks flushing as she carefully closed his sketchbook and set it aside.
“Perhaps I’ll invite you and Mr. Denison for a visit to Oakland Park, since you will likely be married by then.”
Her throat seemed to work convulsively for a moment, reminding him that this was not a match she wanted. Even so, she offered him a faint smile. “I should like that very much. Thank you, my lord.”
Perplexed by the sudden wave of anger that assailed him, he told her simply, “Think nothing of it. Your company would be greatly appreciated.”
Chapter 7
“Will you partner with me for a game of whist?” Lady Duncaster asked Sarah that evening after dinner when they were joined by the gentlemen in the large Italian salon adjacent to the dining room.
“I’d be delighted to. But who will we be playing against?”
A devilish smile captured the countess’s lips. “Lord Spencer and Mr. Denison. They’re waiting for us over there at that table.”
Following Lady Duncaster’s gaze with foreboding, Sarah found the gentlemen seated across from each other, each with a drink placed before them. She was going to need one herself if she was to endure the upcoming game. “How could you do this?” she whispered as she rose to her feet and fell into step beside Lady Duncaster.
“I have a particular penchant for mischief,” Lady Duncaster said conspiratorially.
“Thank you, but this is the sort of mischief I can do without.” To keep company with the man she desired and the man she would marry, aware that they were not one and the same, and that they never would be, called for more endurance than Sarah believed herself capable of. “A brandy, if you please,” she told a footman as she took her seat at the table.
“Strong stuff,” Lord Spencer remarked, shuffling the cards.
“Lady Sarah is a strong woman,” Mr. Denison said as he took a sip of his own drink, his eyes glistening in a manner that made Sarah squirm.
“I hope I didn’t imply otherwise,” Lord Spencer said.
“I’ll have a brandy as well,” Lady Duncaster told the footman, “and a cheroot.”
The gentlemen stared. Lady Duncaster looked at them with incomprehension, while Sarah tried to control her smile. The countess was still quite capable of shocking her companions, it would seem.
“My lady,” Mr. Denison eventually
said, “would you not prefer some snuff? I have an excellent one that you’re more than welcome to try.”
“Thank you, but I have no intention of inhaling foreign substances into my nose, when it not only makes me sneeze quite uncontrollably but also has been observed to cause swelling and excrescences.”
“Are you sure?” Mr. Denison asked, looking dubious.
“The physician John Hill claimed so, and that’s got to be fifty or sixty years ago, which is why I choose to abstain completely,” Lord Spencer said. “One might think, logically speaking, that inhaling the smoke from tobacco through the mouth would be equally harmful.”
“Perhaps, but until medical evidence proves it, I see no harm in enjoying the occasional cheroot,” Lady Duncaster said, “more so when I’m as old as I am.”
“Quite,” Lord Spencer agreed.
“However,” Mr. Denison said, “even you must admit that for a lady to smoke in public, more so in front of a young unmarried lady whose delicate sensibilities are—”
“Did you not just say that Lady Sarah is a strong woman?” Lord Spencer inquired.
“Of course,” Mr. Denison said. There was the brief hint of a scowl before he trained his features and smiled. “Nevertheless, it isn’t proper.”
“He is correct on that score,” Lord Spencer said, addressing Lady Duncaster, while Sarah felt increasingly like a small child that everyone felt the need to protect. It vexed her.
“So he is,” Lady Duncaster said, “but everyone knows how eccentric I am, so I’m sure they’ll forgive me. As for Lady Sarah, if my smoking offends you, please don’t hesitate to say so and I’ll abstain without issue.”
Piqued, and with the most bizarre temptation to irk Mr. Denison and Lord Spencer for their delicate treatment of her, Sarah said, “I have no issue at all, my lady.”
There was a pause, and then, gathering his wits, Lord Spencer dealt the cards. The ladies’ drinks arrived and a cheroot was lit for Lady Duncaster. Holding it expertly in one hand, she held her cards in the other, her poised elegance suggesting that she was not a novice when it came to smoking.
But while Lord Spencer seemed to have accepted their hostess’s quirk, Mr. Denison continuously glanced toward her with disapproval as the game progressed. Nothing more was said, however, until Lady Andover approached a while later along with her friend, Mrs. Penbrook. Immediately, Lady Andover said, “I do not wish to interrupt your game, Lady Duncaster, but I couldn’t help but notice that you are”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“smoking, not only in public but in front of Lady Sarah.”
Turning her head toward Lady Andover, Lady Duncaster blinked. “So I am.”
Lady Andover set her mouth in an angle of distinct disapproval. “Might I ask you to stop?”
“This is her house, Mama,” Sarah said, embarrassed that her stepmother would dare to comment so openly on a point of etiquette.
“While that may be true, Lady Sarah, we are not exactly her guests. Are we?” Cringing at the implication that they were customers, Sarah wished there was something she could say to stop Lady Andover from saying anything further. Unfortunately, the woman was determined to make her point. “Therefore, I would appreciate it if the rules of Society could be adhered to so Lady Sarah is not subjected to the sort of things that unmarried ladies should be protected from.”
“I did try to tell her ladyship,” Mr. Denison said as he beamed at Lady Andover, much like a puppy awaiting its treat.
“I’m pleased to hear that one of you was being sensible,” Lady Andover said, patting the proverbial puppy on its head.
“Lord Spencer agreed with Mr. Denison,” Sarah said. Even though she had not approved of him doing so, she suddenly wanted to force her stepmother to acknowledge his efforts to adhere to correct behavior as well.
“You chose to ignore both gentlemen?” Lady Andover asked.
Straightening her spine, Lady Duncaster said, “Since Lady Sarah is of age, I thought I would allow her to choose.”
“And I suppose she had no issue with it,” Lady Andover said, looking to Sarah.
“Of course not,” Sarah said, meeting her stepmother’s eyes with a steely gaze.
Sighing, Lady Andover shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?”
“With respect, I will bow to your wishes,” Lady Duncaster said as she waved a footman over and handed him the offensive cheroot.
“Thank you,” Lady Andover said. “Your consideration is much appreciated.”
“And since that is the case, perhaps you will allow us to continue our game?” Lord Spencer inquired.
Spearing him with a hard look that had seemingly no effect, Lady Andover gave a curt nod before walking away, her arm linked with Mrs. Penbrook’s.
“Well, that was rather awkward,” Mr. Denison said a short while later. “I told you smoking was a bad idea.”
“So you did,” Lady Duncaster agreed, her eyes fixed on her cards.
They continued playing until the ladies had won twice and the gentleman three times. “If you’ll forgive me, I believe I’ll take myself off to bed,” Mr. Denison said.
“I’ll look forward to going for a ride with your daughters tomorrow,” Lord Spencer said.
Sarah tried to hide her surprise. He’d told her specifically he didn’t want to spend time with them—that the most he would do would be to engage them in a brief conversation—yet he was taking them riding now? Why? Unable to ask him about it, she held her tongue and wished Mr. Denison good night.
“Spencer,” Lord Oakland said, approaching. He greeted the ladies before addressing his son once again. “Since you’re done with your game, I was hoping to discuss some estate business with you before retiring.”
“Excuse me, ladies,” Lord Spencer said as he stood up. He bowed to each of them in turn, thanked them for the game and wished them a good night before following his father to a quiet corner at the other end of the room.
“I’m sorry about Lady Andover’s interference earlier,” Sarah said now that she had a chance to speak to Lady Duncaster in private.
“Think nothing of it,” Lady Duncaster told her kindly. “Your stepmother was right and I was wrong. There’s nothing more to it.”
“You could ask her to leave,” Sarah suggested. “The way she spoke to you was quite inappropriate.”
“Then you would have to leave as well, would you not?” The countess’s gaze drifted toward Lord Spencer. “You would no doubt marry Mr. Denison without further ado and lose your chance for true happiness.”
“I already lost that chance long ago,” Sarah murmured.
Lady Duncaster shook her head. “This is Thorncliff, Lady Sarah. Have a little faith, will you?”
Unwilling to discuss the subject further, Sarah forced a smile and nodded.
When she returned to the suite of rooms she shared with Alice and Juliet later that evening, Sarah quietly bid her sisters good night before entering her own bedchamber and closing the door behind her. Her thoughts were still on the awful experience she’d had with Mr. Denison out on the lake. Thankfully, it seemed she’d managed to dissuade his advances for now, but for how long? And once she became his wife, he’d have the right to do as he wished with her. It was a nauseating idea, to say the least.
And then there was Lord Spencer. He’d casually joined her and Mr. Denison for tea on the terrace that afternoon, ignoring all of Mr. Denison’s attempts to be rid of him. Chuckling at the memory, Sarah turned toward the bed and came to an immediate halt at the sight of a large object sitting in the middle of the floor. It was covered by a faded green piece of cloth. A note rested on top of it, and Sarah spared no time in picking it up, curious as to what it might say.
Please accept this gift as a token of my admiration and with the fondest memories of playing hide-and-seek with the little “rodent” who will soon reside within. I hop
e he will approve of his new home.
Your friend,
Lord Spencer
Sarah read the note again and then a third time for good measure before setting it aside and approaching the object. Since coming close to losing Snowball in the conservatory, she had kept him mostly in the small box she’d brought along in her trunk. There were holes in it for air of course, but it was still a tiny place for Snowball to spend his time in when Sarah was away from him.
Curious to see what Lord Spencer had given her, she reached out a hand and plucked away the fabric covering the gift, unveiling a large wooden-framed box with glass on all sides and a wooden lid with holes in the top. Inside, some hay had been placed in one corner, while segments cut from two slim branches had been placed at angles, creating ramps for Snowball to climb.
A smile touched Sarah’s lips, spreading wide until she had no doubt that she was grinning like an imbecilic fool. She didn’t care in the least. What Lord Spencer had done for her, or more precisely, what he had done for Snowball, deserved her deepest gratitude, and as she took the tiny creature out of the small box in which he’d been placed and set him down in his new habitat, she knew she’d have to find a way to repay Lord Spencer’s unexpected kindness.
Chapter 8
“Isn’t it exciting?” Lady Andover asked the following day in reference to the upcoming ball, which had been announced that day at luncheon. She was having tea with her daughters in a shaded corner of the terrace, while her husband had gone for a ride with Mr. Denison. “And to think that Lady Duncaster has been considerate enough toward the children to arrange a separate room in which they may dance with their governesses and maids in attendance is quite remarkable. It will give the two of you a wonderful opportunity to practice the steps your instructor has taught you,” she said, addressing Alice and Juliet.
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