“You’re probably right,” Lord Andover had said, “but he put me on the spot, and I could think of nothing plausible after he offered to buy five horses of my choosing. At least this way I’ve bought you some time to consider a good excuse.”
Unfortunately, Sarah had failed to think of anything that would dissuade a man like Lord Spencer, other than the absolute truth.
“Are you enjoying your visit here at Thorncliff, Lady Sarah?” Lady Forthright asked. A close friend of Chloe’s, she’d married quite young. Although she wasn’t a beauty by any means, her eyes were unusually sharp and assessing—the sort that added character.
“Very much so,” Sarah replied. She had met Lady Forthright during her first and only Season and had liked her a great deal, had even imagined the two of them might be friends, but Sarah had chosen not to pursue any new friendships after disaster had struck. Instead, she’d secluded herself at Andover Park. “It’s such a magnificent home, don’t you think? We’re all very fortunate that Lady Duncaster chose to open her doors to us.”
“We certainly are,” Lady Ravensby agreed. She was another friend of Chloe’s and very much in love with her husband if the playful smiles she kept sending across the room to him were any indication. “Why, just look at all the decorations up there beneath the ceiling and the chandeliers shimmering with . . . oh, there must be at least a thousand candles, don’t you think?”
Sarah had to agree as she stood there looking up at the light dancing off countless pieces of crystal.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” a familiar voice inquired.
Lowering her gaze, Sarah found that Lord Spencer had joined them.
“We were just admiring the magnificence of the Thorncliff ballroom,” Lady Ravensby said as she smiled prettily in his direction. “Wouldn’t you agree that it is the loveliest you have ever seen?”
“I certainly would,” he replied, his gaze resting steadily on Sarah. Her skin grew warm, her stomach collapsing in on itself until she grew restless. Bowing toward her, he said, “It’s almost time for our dance, Lady Sarah.”
“Indeed it is,” Mr. Denison said crisply as he materialized before them, banishing the nervous excitement Lord Spencer had stirred and replacing it with angst. “But before she does, it is my turn to partner with her for a cotillion.” Holding out his hand, he waited with a grim expression for her to accept, which she did with great reluctance, allowing him to lead her away from the one man who’d managed to achieve what she would have thought impossible before coming to Thorncliff—he’d made her open her heart again. She trusted Lord Spencer not to hurt her, which only made her hate herself so much more for the pain she would surely cause him in return.
“I thought I told you not to keep his company anymore,” Mr. Denison hissed as they broke away from the other dancers to turn about as a pair. “Yet you persist in your folly.”
They danced back, linking hands with others and moving in a circle before breaking off again. “I could hardly deny him the dance when he asked me in front of his family. It would have been unforgivably rude.”
“You could have told him you’d already given it to me,” he snapped.
Sarah knew he was right, but she hadn’t wanted to do that. In fact, just the thought of Mr. Denison holding any part of her other than her hand made her skin crawl.
They proceeded to dance a series of elaborate steps consisting mostly of tiny skips, preventing Mr. Denison from commenting further, but as soon as he had the opportunity a couple of minutes later, he said, “The way he looks at you is most disagreeable. In fact, it forces me to wonder if you might have allowed him the sort of liberties that you have been denying me.”
Appalled indignation rippled through her, tightening her muscles until she grew completely rigid. “How dare you?” she asked once the dance had ended and he was leading her over to where Lord Spencer waited.
“A man can dare a great deal when the lady has no choice but to submit to his demands.” Placing one hand against her back as he pushed her forward, he slowly stroked her spine. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I’ll drive all thought of the viscount from your mind soon enough.”
They arrived before Lord Spencer, whose eyes were like a pair of dark thunderclouds. “I trust you enjoyed yourselves,” he said more politely than Sarah would have expected.
“Oh yes,” Mr. Denison said happily, without the slightest hint of his dislikeable character. “Lady Sarah is such an exquisite dancer.”
“Then I am even more pleased to have the honor of dancing the waltz with her,” Lord Spencer said, offering her his arm. “Shall we?”
Grateful for the opportunity to remove herself from Mr. Denison’s presence, Sarah nodded as she accepted Lord Spencer’s offer. She was acutely aware of the anger that simmered beneath Mr. Denison’s smile, hating how uncomfortable it made her feel and dreading what it might lead to.
“Is everything all right?” Lord Spencer asked as he led Sarah toward the dance floor. “You seemed a little put out just now.”
“It was nothing,” she said, unwilling to discuss Mr. Denison’s vile comments. Knowing Lord Spencer, he’d probably do something heroic, like challenge the man to a duel. As tempting as that idea might be, she could not allow it.
“I only want what’s best for you, Sarah.” The lack of the honorific felt most endearing. “And I hope that you feel comfortable enough to confide in me whatever troubles you might have so that I may help you overcome them.”
They took up their positions for the waltz, his hand coming to rest against her lower back. Heat entered her body at the point of contact, coursing through her in little skips and jumps that left her giddy. “Thank you, my lord.” If only she didn’t sound so breathless. “Perhaps I will take you up on that offer once the dance is over.” She owed him the truth, no matter how much it pained her.
The music started and he took a step backward, pulling her with him until they were spinning around the dance floor. “You’ve no idea how happy that makes me.” A warm glow emanated from his eyes. “I’ve spoken to your father, you see, and he has given me permission to court you. You needn’t concern yourself about Mr. Denison anymore.”
“You are exceedingly kind, my lord, to even consider me after our brief acquaintance, but there is something about me that you do not know—something that will change everything between us and make you regret ever suggesting such an attachment.”
To her surprise, he didn’t look the least bit alarmed. In fact, his smile broadened, and he pulled her closer, allowing her to revel in his musky scent and the strength flowing through him. He was in his prime—a fine specimen of male perfection.
“If it’s Harlowe you’re concerned about . . .” She tripped in response to that awful name, her heart knocking against her chest, while the palms of her hands grew clammy. “You needn’t worry, unless of course you knew of his crimes and—”
“I did not,” she managed, still trying to recover her scattered nerves.
“I didn’t doubt it for a second, but all things considered, I had to ask.” He spun her toward the center of the floor. “You should know that it doesn’t matter to me that you might have been interested in him. After all, he would no doubt have made a fine husband if he’d been more honorable.”
“But he wasn’t,” she said. On the one hand, she had no wish to crush Lord Spencer’s fine impression of her, but on the other, she wanted it all to be out in the open so she could return to reality—a place where only men like Mr. Denison would want her and where she had no means by which to escape him.
“No. But he is the reason why you were planning to throw your life away on Mr. Denison, isn’t he? Because you and your parents didn’t think anyone would want to associate with a woman who’d shown an interest in a traitor. You might have been right. But I’ve gotten to know you, and I’ve realized that if anyone in this world deser
ves to be happy, it is you.”
Sarah shook her head. “My lord, I—”
“You have many commendable qualities, Sarah. Your incredible kindness and consideration toward others—your selflessness—are much to be admired. And there has always been an easy repartee between us, even in the beginning, when you were quite determined to vex me.”
“I vex you? My lord, I do believe it was the other way around.”
He chuckled, a rare sound that she wished she could hear more often. “You continue to prove that you are delightful to be around, and I for one can think of no better lifetime companion.”
Heart fluttering in her chest while heat nipped at her skin, Sarah focused her attention on the dance. Somehow she had to finish it without succumbing to panic. She inhaled deeply to calm her nerves before saying, “I thank you, my lord, but I fear you might think too highly of me.”
“Impossible.” His voice was controlled, as though he held a tight rein on his emotions. “This past week has been the best in recent memory, and all because of you. I don’t think I need to tell you how much I enjoy your company, for I daresay you feel the same about me.” She jerked her head toward him, unbalanced by his candor. He smiled warmly in return, and she realized immediately that she’d shown him her hand. There would be no point in denying his observation other than to prove herself a liar. He squeezed her hand gently with his own, then added, “I’m not generally demanding, Lady Sarah, but when it comes to you, I will do whatever I have to in order to win you.”
They passed a blur of onlookers, and Sarah glimpsed the terrace doors—large and inviting. Fleetingly, she was struck by the mad idea of making a dash for them. Freedom. Would such a thing ever be hers? Or would she always be bound by duty? Once upon a time, it had been to marry well. Now it was to avoid doing so. If only for once in her life she could make a choice that wouldn’t spell disaster—one that would grant her a chance at the happily ever after she’d longed for since she was a little girl.
The dance came to a close without her knowing how it had happened. She’d been in a daze, only now aware that Lord Spencer was guiding her toward the refreshment table. “What the . . .” Coming to a standstill, Lord Spencer gazed down at the treats laid out on silver platters. “Those look like choux à la crème, but they cannot possibly be. That is, I cannot possibly believe Lady Duncaster’s cook would just happen to have made these.” Amazement filled his eyes as he looked at Sarah. “It’s too great a coincidence.”
“I’m sure you’re not the only person in England who enjoys them, and Lady Duncaster does have a fondness for cake.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did you say something to her?”
Sarah shrugged. She hadn’t done it because she sought his favor but because she wanted him to be able to enjoy his favorite treat once more. “I may have mentioned your partiality in passing.”
“You amaze me,” he said with wonder.
“Why don’t you try one?”
Slowly, he broke eye contact with her and picked up one of the pastries. Studying it briefly, he took a bite, his expression turning to one of pure pleasure. “It’s perfect,” he said before taking another bite, “absolutely perfect.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said, unable to stop herself from grinning in response to his undeniable state of euphoria.
“Keep this up and you’ll have me wound around your finger for the duration of our marriage.”
His words were like a bucket of ice water, reminding her of their previous conversation, except he’d gone from talking about courting her to referencing an inevitable future with her as his wife. It had to stop. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, knowing he wouldn’t understand, “but I cannot marry you. I—”
“Lord Spencer,” Lady Andover said, cutting Sarah off as she came to stand beside her. “I must say you dance splendidly.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Lord Spencer said, his expression set in firm lines.
Pain filled Sarah’s chest as she looked up at him. It was as if a chasm had opened between them, and she suddenly felt more alone than ever before. In that moment, she desperately wished things could have been different between them, and she bitterly resented how silly she’d been to squander her future on a man who’d cared nothing for her.
“If you’ll forgive us, my lord,” Lady Andover said, “there’s a pressing family matter that I must discuss with Lady Sarah in private.”
“Of course,” Lord Spencer clipped. He met Sarah’s eyes and bowed stiffly. “It was a pleasure.”
Swallowing her heartache, she watched him walk away before following her stepmother through one of the doors leading out into a long hallway. “What is it, Mama?” she asked as they approached one of the salons.
A smile touched Lady Andover’s lips. “You’ll see soon enough.”
There was something about her stepmother’s tone that Sarah didn’t like, and when the door to the salon was opened and Sarah was ushered inside, she quickly saw that she’d been right to feel wary.
“What is going on?” Sarah asked upon finding both her father and Mr. Denison present.
Lady Andover closed the door behind her.
“It seems Lord Spencer is proving to be something of a problem,” Lord Andover said. “And you don’t seem capable of diminishing his interest, as I’d initially hoped.”
“I’ve scarcely had any time to do so since you informed me of his intentions,” Sarah complained.
“But there is one solution that ought to discourage him,” Lord Andover said.
“And what is that?” Sarah asked numbly.
“We shall merely have to hasten things along a bit,” Lady Andover remarked.
“Your courtship with Mr. Denison is hereby over. He will make you an offer within the next few minutes which you will not refuse, upon which your engagement to Mr. Denison will be publically announced.”
All warmth left Sarah’s body in that instant. It was of course what she had known would eventually happen, but now that it was becoming a reality, she felt as if she was being carted off to the sacrificial pyre. “What if I do refuse?” she found herself saying, astonished by how level her voice sounded.
“Refuse?” Lady Andover screeched. “Are you mad? You cannot refuse!”
Expanding on this, Lord Andover said, “Without an income or a husband to support you, you would soon become destitute.”
“Not if I were to marry Lord Spencer,” Sarah insisted.
“You can’t,” Mr. Denison said.
“He’s right,” Lord Andover agreed. “Consider Lord Spencer’s wrath when he discovers that the woman he married isn’t a virgin! There’s no telling what he might do or how it might affect your sisters.”
It was the same argument as always, but it was a compelling one. “Very well then,” Sarah said, stiffening her spine with resolve. “Let’s get on with it.”
“We’ll give you a bit of privacy,” Lord Andover said, crossing to his wife, who was already exiting the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar for the sake of propriety.
“I must say I’m rather pleased with this outcome,” Mr. Denison said as soon as they were alone, approaching Sarah like a weasel seeking out its prey. He stopped before her, so close that Sarah could smell his breath—an unpleasant scent that reminded her of sour milk. Her stomach roiled. It didn’t help that Mr. Denison brushed his fingers against her cheek and cupped her chin. “Will you marry me, Lady Sarah?”
“Perhaps if you ask me properly, I might consider giving you the answer you want.”
He laughed mockingly. “For a woman in your position, I hardly think you’ve any right to make demands.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “But maybe all you need is a bit of incentive.”
Flinching, Sarah jerked away, but he anticipated her movement and was swiftly upon her, grabbing her by the arms and holding her in place
as he bowed his head toward her.
“Stop right there, sir!”
Mr. Denison froze, his mouth twisting into an ugly grimace as he turned his head toward Lord Spencer, who stood in the doorway with Sarah’s parents behind him. “This doesn’t concern you, my lord,” Mr. Denison sneered.
Raw fury burned in Lord Spencer’s eyes. “I disagree,” he said, his voice cold and frighteningly calm.
Being as close as she was to Mr. Denison, Sarah didn’t miss the first traces of doubt as they spread their way across his face.
“You are intruding upon my proposal, Lord Spencer. Please leave this instant.”
Ignoring him completely, Lord Spencer looked at Sarah. “Is this what you want?”
“I . . .” She couldn’t lie to him. “No,” she confessed.
“It doesn’t matter what she wants,” Mr. Denison said. “This is a business arrangement between myself and Lord Andover. You have no right to question it.”
Lord Spencer turned to Lord Andover. “Why would you do this to your daughter? Don’t you see what this man is like? He won’t treat her well, and she will suffer for it.”
“In other words, her marriage would not be so different from most others,” Lady Andover said.
“And considering she’s not much better than a whore, I—”
Mr. Denison did not finish that sentence before Lord Spencer had taken two long strides toward him and grabbed him by the throat, pulling him away from Sarah and forcing him up against a wall. “Apologize,” he growled.
“Why should I,” Mr. Denison gasped. “It’s the truth!”
Sarah stood completely immobile, her heart beating loudly in her ears while everything slowed to a near halt. This couldn’t be happening, and yet it was.
“Hold your tongue, Denison,” Lord Andover barked, “or so help me God I shall have no choice but to call you out for your insolence.”
“You needn’t trouble yourself on that score, my lord,” Lord Spencer said while Mr. Denison clutched at Lord Spencer’s hands, frantically trying to dislodge them. “I am calling him out myself for the damage he has done to Lady Sarah’s honor. We shall duel with swords at dawn.”
Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires Page 23
