Tempting Sarah

by Gayle Buck

  Sarah shook her head. “Not just yet, my lord. Oh, I know that it is terribly fast of me to ask, but will you take a turn about the gardens with me?”

  Lord Dissinger looked astonished, but he made an instant recovery. “Of course, Miss Sommers. I would be delighted.” He escorted her down the stone steps onto the flagstone path. They had only walked a little ways when they heard the sound of weeping.

  Lord Dissinger stopped dead. “Perhaps we should go back, Miss Sommers,” he muttered uneasily.

  “Nonsense, my lord,” said Sarah, urging her companion on. A turn in the path brought them upon a bench, on which sat a disconsolate figure. The lady turned quickly when she heard the gravel crunch beneath their feet. Sarah instantly recognized the lady’s features in the moonlight. “Why, Miss Darton! How is this?”

  Miss Darton surreptitiously brushed her hands over her cheeks. She stood up quickly. “Miss Sommers, Lord Dissinger! I-I—”

  “Did you come out for a bit of air, too?” asked Sarah gently.

  “I-I... yes, that’s it exactly,” stammered Miss Darton. She cast a half-frightened look about the shadowed gardens.

  Sarah did not miss that quick glance. Obviously Miss Darton had not come out alone. At once Sarah decided that the young girl must not be left to reenter the drawing room by herself. If it had been noticed that Miss Darton had left the rout in company with a gentleman, it would certainly cause comment if she returned without escort. “We are about to return inside. Perhaps you will join us? Lord Dissinger, your arm, if you please,” said Sarah.

  Lord Dissinger instantly offered his other arm to Miss Darton. “My pleasure, Miss Darton!”

  Sarah did not ask any questions of the girl. Instead she kept up a gentle flow of conversation that was designed to put Miss Darton at ease. By the time that they reentered the drawing room, Miss Darton had begun to laugh at some of the things that Lord Dissinger was saying.

  Sarah left Miss Darton with Lord Dissinger, easily excusing herself when she saw her sister. She walked up to Margaret and greeted her and her companions. “It is an awful squeeze, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes! A splendid success for Lady Alverley,” exclaimed one lady.

  Captain Jeffries was standing beside Margaret. His gold-brown eyes crinkled as he smiled at Sarah. “I was flattered to be included on her ladyship’s guest list. If I had not gotten a short extension of my leave, I would almost certainly have missed this rare treat.”

  Margaret glanced up quickly at her companion. Her eyes were sparkling. “Oh, I am glad, then. We would have missed you dreadfully, wouldn’t we, Sarah?”

  “Indeed we would have,” agreed Sarah, smiling. “I know that Mrs. Jeffries must be here this evening, but I have not seen her as yet.”

  “My sister was at the refreshment tables a few moments ago. If you desire an escort, I will be most happy to go with you in search of her,” said Captain Jeffries.

  “Thank you. I must confess, however, the moment you mentioned the refreshments that nearly all thought of Mrs. Jeffries fled my mind. I am very, very thirsty,” said Sarah, accepting the cavalry officer’s arm.

  Captain Jeffries threw back his head and laughed. “There is no need to apologize, Miss Sommers! The heat is blistering.” He flashed a smile at Margaret and the others. “I shall return anon, I daresay.”

  Sarah was glad of the tall cavalry officer’s escort. The crowd seemed to part before him with very little effort, whereas before she had scarcely made any headway at all. Before too many minutes, she and Captain Jeffries arrived at the refreshment tables. As Sarah picked up a glass of lemonade, she said, “Thank you, sir! The cavalry always comes to the rescue, does it not?”

  Captain Jeffries laughed again. “We do our best, Miss Sommers. And here is Elizabeth! I have brought Miss Sommers to you, my dear. She was wanting to greet you.” He bowed and retreated.

  Mrs. Jeffries held out her hand to Sarah. Her expression was welcoming. “My dear! I, too, was hoping to be able to speak with you tonight. It is a lovely turnout. I have already said so to Lady Alverley. I expect that it shall go quite late, however. Shall I expect you and Margaret in the morning?”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought about it! I suppose that it will be awfully late before everyone leaves, won’t it?” said Sarah. She shook her head, smiling. “Is it bad of me not to commit myself? I wouldn’t want to stand you up if I was to oversleep.”

  Mrs. Jeffries laughed. “No, of course not! Well, why don’t you send a note around to my house tomorrow when you have risen and let me know. I shan’t be going out before ten o’clock, in any event.”

  Sarah agreed to it, and then she and Mrs. Jeffries were interrupted by mutual acquaintances. Sarah enjoyed the remainder of the evening, especially as the company slowly began to be reduced in numbers as various personages began to take their leave. Afterward, when she and Margaret were going upstairs to bed, she recalled her conversation with Mrs. Jeffries. “Margaret, Elizabeth Jeffries inquired whether we would want to meet her this morning to go riding. I told her that we would send a note round to her if we had risen at a decent hour.”

  “Oh, of course we must go! I wouldn’t miss a chance to go riding for worlds,” said Margaret, covering her mouth as she yawned.

  “But it is almost dawn now. You can’t possibly wish to go riding,” said Sarah.

  “I am not in the least tired,” said Margaret. She stumbled on the step and caught herself by reaching out for the balustrade.

  Sarah laughed at her. “You are half asleep even as we speak. Very well, we shall go. But I, for one, intend to rest a bit in the afternoon.”

  “Just like a frail old lady,” said Margaret, giggling.

  “You have got an impudent tongue, miss,” said Sarah.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  The following afternoon, Lady Alverley perused the newspaper. Its pages contained a brief piece on the rout that she had given the previous evening. The affair was pronounced a sad crush, a description that gratified her ladyship no end. Lady Alverley basked in her social triumph. “Just think of it, my dears! No less than four ladies fainted dead away from the overcrowding in the rooms and on the stairs,” she said.

  “At one point, I felt very faint myself. If Lord Dissinger had not taken me out to the gardens for a breath of air, I might have disgraced myself entirely,” said Sarah. “His lordship was very understanding, however.”

  “Lord Dissinger is exceptionally well-mannered.” Lady Alverley glanced over at her granddaughter. With a suggestive tone, she said, “I suppose that you have not begun to form an attachment in that direction?”

  Sarah chuckled and shook her head. “No, Grandmama. I consider Lord Dissinger to be a pleasant companion, but nothing more.”

  “A pity. His lordship is very well-breeched. You could do worse, Sarah,” said Lady Alverley. She gestured at the bouquet of yellow roses in a vase on the mantel. “And he is so very considerate, besides.”

  “I concede all of it, ma’am. However, Lord Dissinger has failed to snare my heart,” said Sarah firmly.

  “You might as well give over, Grandmama,” suggested Margaret, her chin propped in her hand as she turned over the pages of a fashion magazine. “Sarah is far too sensible to accept Lord Dissinger’s suit when Lord Mittenger has made her the object of his admiration.”

  “Margaret!” exclaimed Sarah, heat rising in her cheeks. She had confided to her sister earlier that morning how Lord Mittenger had seemed to be on the point of offering for her. It was horrid of Margaret to tease her about it.

  Lady Alverley bolted upright on the chaise upon which she was reclining. “Mittenger! Why, Sarah, you sly boots! I had no notion that you had such game in your sights.”

  “The baron is said to be fabulously rich,” said Miss Hanson in a congratulatory tone. She was carefully embroidering her initials on a lace handkerchief and peered closely at her work.

  “I am not entertaining a suit from Lord Mittenger, either,” said Sarah, sendi
ng a scorching glance at her sister.

  Margaret went into a peal of laughter. “Oh, Sarah! You are such a funny when you are put to the roast. You have daggers in your eyes.”

  Sarah threw a cushion at her. “There, Miss Sauce-box!” Her sister ducked, giggling.

  “And what of you, Margaret? Is there a gentleman who has found particular favor in your eyes?” asked Lady Alverley.

  Margaret looked startled and suddenly wary. “Me?” she faltered. “Why, what can you mean, Grandmama?”

  “I’ve noticed that the Honorable Timothy Matthews is growing markedly attentive. There are also Lords Darton and Tottenham,” said Lady Alverley. “We have also seen rather a lot of Sir Thomas Eppherd, Captain Jeffries, and Mr. Lawrence.”

  “Well, yes. But there is nothing in that, for they are my particular friends,” said Margaret. “Penelope Lawrence and Barbara Darton are my closest bosom bows, besides. And I like Mrs. Jeffries very well, too. When we all go riding together we have such fun. Don’t we, Sarah?”

  “Yes, indeed. Lord Eustace and Lord Dissinger often escort us, as well,” said Sarah.

  “Nevertheless, perhaps it is time that we have a serious talk, Margaret,” said Lady Alverley.

  Alarm showed in Margaret’s expression. “Whatever about, Grandmama?”

  “I do not mind that you show a degree of friendliness toward any of those whom I have mentioned. However, I wish you to become aware that not all of these admirers of yours are eligible suitors,” said Lady Alverley.

  “Are they not?” Margaret shot a quick, anxious glance at Sarah. “Am I not to associate with them, then?”

  “I don’t think that is exactly what our grandmother means,” said Sarah reassuringly.

  “Certainly not. I well understand how much you enjoy the company of these young gentlemen, and that of their sisters, as well,” said Lady Alverley. “I merely wished to point out certain truths, in the event that you began to form a tendre for any of them. For instance, Lord Darton is completely ineligible. He delights in gaming and is far too gone in Dun Territory to be thought to be the least provident. And Lord Tottenham, though better placed than Lord Darton in my estimation, is not right for you, I think.”

  “Lord Tottenham likes Sarah just as much as he does me,” offered Margaret.

  “Yes, and so my warning is for both of you. Lord Tottenham is a widower, as you know, and he already possesses a nursery of hopeful heirs. If either of you were to wed his lordship, your children would naturally be last in line for the succession,” said Lady Alverley.

  “Very bad,” commented Miss Hanson, shaking her head. “It is not at all the situation that one could wish.”

  “You have our assurance that we do not consider Lord Tottenham to be a possibility, Grandmama,” said Sarah. “In fact, if his lordship should make an offer for either of us, we would be grateful to you if you would decline it.”

  “I perceive that you have discussed this matter between you,” said Lady Alverley, amused.

  “Oh, yes. Sarah and I noticed how particular Lord Tottenham’s attentions have become,” said Margaret, nodding. “His lordship is not at all acceptable to us, Grandmama.”

  “Quite. I am glad that you both have such sensible heads on your shoulders. I should perhaps tell you that you should not be surprised if you lose Lord Darton as an admirer. I heard only yesterday that he shall soon be forced to look to the ranks of the heiresses for a bride if he is to survive his penurious embarrassments,” said Lady Alverley.

  “What a pity. He is such an excellent dancer,” said Sarah flippantly.

  Margaret giggled, but Miss Hanson looked up to frown at them. “It is not a laughing matter, Sarah, Margaret,” she said reprovingly.

  “I am happy that you have no great attachment in that direction,” said Lady Alverley dryly.

  “I apologize, ma’am. You were saying?” said Sarah.

  “Thank you, Sarah. There are also Mr. Lawrence and Captain Jeffries to consider. Younger sons, both. Completely ineligible,” said Lady Alverley, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.

  “Do you mean ... like Papa was?” asked Margaret tentatively.

  Miss Hanson looked up, quick alarm entering her expression. “Margaret, I beg of you!”

  Lady Alverley’s face tightened. Her eyes had become cold blue flames and her lips had thinned in a narrow line. At Miss Hanson’s sharp interjection, her ladyship’s countenance abruptly relaxed. “Exactly so, Margaret. I trust that you will remember it. Now we shall not say anything more about it, if you please.”

  Margaret gave her grandmother a long, thoughtful look. She was unusually reticent, not offering her thoughts as she was wont to do.

  “What of Mr. Matthews?” asked Sarah curiously. She had not liked the tension that had entered the atmosphere with her sister’s question, but she was not one to back down from an unpleasant encounter, either. It seemed odd to her that Lady Alverley had not included Mr. Matthews in her list of ineligibles and she wanted to know why. “Is he not also a younger son?”

  “Oh, but he is Cardell Matthews’s heir,” said Miss Hanson.

  Lady Alverley nodded. “Exactly.”

  Sarah and Margaret looked to her ladyship for enlightenment. Margaret was frowning. Sarah knew that her sister was bothered by the seeming inconsistency in Lady Alverley’s judgment, as was she.

  “I do not perfectly understand, Grandmama,” said Sarah.

  “Cardell Matthews is Mr. Matthews’s great-uncle. He is said to be a veritable nabob. Mr. Matthews may not be in line for the title, but he shall be quite fabulously rich,” said Lady Alverley. “And that, coupled with his unexceptional birth, renders him perfectly eligible.”

  “Yes, but he hasn’t any chin,” objected Margaret.

  Sarah spluttered a laugh at her sister’s candid observation. “Yes, that is quite true, the poor man!” Margaret’s countenance lightened in response and she giggled.

  “Quite unfortunate, but one must make allowances,” said Lady Alverley, glancing reprovingly at her eldest granddaughter.

  “And so we have neatly dealt with Lords Darton and Tottenham, Mr. Lawrence, Captain Jeffries, and Mr. Matthews,” said Sarah, counting the gentlemen off on her fingers. For her, it was an exercise in absurdity. “We already know that Lord Dissinger and Lord Mittenger are favorably situated. Is there anyone else, Grandmama?”

  “Lord Eustace seems to like us both,” said Margaret.

  “Yes,” said Lady Alverley thoughtfully. She shook her head. “It is strange. I have not yet been able to decide which of you it is that continues to draw Lord Eustace to us. He pays compliments to you both and does not reveal a preference. His lordship is seemingly just as content spending time with you, Margaret, as he is with Sarah.”

  Sarah thought that she could enlighten her grandmother, but she chose to keep her own counsel. She truly did not want to delve into a discussion of how often Lord Eustace had talked to her about her sister. It was already difficult enough to play the friendly confidante.

  “His lordship is a bit of a dark horse,” suggested Miss Hanson.

  “Quite so,” agreed Lady Alverley. “You are perfectly correct, Marie. Lord Eustace has not made anyone the sole object of his admiration since his unfortunate entanglement with Vivian Leander.”

  “Yet his lordship does seem to enjoy Sarah and Margaret’s company,” said Miss Hanson.

  Lady Alverley nodded reflectively. “I do not discount him entirely, for he has been flatteringly attentive. However, in my opinion it would be to greater advantage to encourage Lord Dissinger, Lord Mittenger, Sir Thomas, and Mr. Matthews.”

  “You make it sound almost like a military campaign, ma’am,” exclaimed Sarah.

  “Well, and so it is. A betrothal does not simply fall into one’s lap, Sarah. One must labor to appear to constant advantage and to continually keep oneself in circulation. It would be fatal to simply sit at home and hope for the best,” said Lady Alverley.

  “If you do not mi
nd, Grandmama, I would prefer to leave Lord Mittenger to Sarah,” said Margaret. “I do not understand what he is thinking. He is too somber for my tastes.”

  “Well, really, Margaret, as though that is not the outside of enough! I do not think that I am so lacking in animation that it follows that I must have a preference for someone who is described as somber!” said Sarah, laughing.

  “Oh, I do not mean it that way, Sarah. As you very well know! But you do understand what the baron means by what he says much better than I do,” said Margaret. She slid a sly glance at her sister. “And lately he does seem to prefer you to me.”

  “Oh, we are back to that again, are we?” said Sarah. She picked up another cushion, menacing her sister with it. Margaret squealed in laughter. They engaged in a mock battle with the pillows, disregarding Miss Hanson’s repeated admonitions to behave themselves with more decorum.

  “Oh, let them be, Marie. It is harmless enough play,” said Lady Alverley indulgently.

  The door opened and Lady Frobisher entered. She stopped short at sight of the two sisters, who had turned startled faces. “My word! I did not realize that you indulged in cap-pulling,” she said in amusement.

  Sarah and Margaret straightened up their slightly disheveled hair and gowns. They hurriedly tried to smooth their appearance, while Miss Hanson covered her eyes with her hand.

  Lady Alverley smiled and the glance that she cast at her granddaughters was a shade on the wicked side. “It is quite lowering, to be sure. They are fighting over an admirer, my lady.”

  Miss Hanson looked up at that and squeaked an agitated denial. “Oh, my lady! Pray do not say so! The implication!”

  Lady Frobisher looked astonished. Sarah started laughing and rose to her feet, holding out her hand. “My grandmother is perfectly right, my lady. However, what she has not made plain is that Margaret and I are each trying to give the gentleman in question away to the other!”