by Tracy Fobes
Phineas’s face and neck reddened. “My lady, these details are far from trivial. The placement of the fork, among other things, is key in understanding the depth of breeding a person has. You must realize that other aristocrats will be watching your every move, and assessing each one in an attempt to solve the mystery of your past. So, if you do not learn these things to the letter, you will forever be branded a peasant and a disgrace to my honored employer, the Duke of Argyll!”
Sarah stared at him, shocked by his disdainful tone and the way his voice had risen during his final sentence. Abruptly she could see how much he loathed this task the duke had given him, and how hopeless a case he thought she was.
Gently she placed the fork she’d been holding next to her plate, pushed back from the table, and stood. “I think I need some time tae think. Please do nae follow me. I’ll return when I’m able,” she told them, and walked out of the dining room.
7
T ears that Sarah had managed to banish earlier now came flooding back to run down her cheeks. As soon as she was out of sight of the dining room, she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs and raced up the staircase. Within seconds she reached her bedchamber and locked the door behind her before throwing herself on the bed. She buried her head in a pillow and let go, hoping that the soft down would muffle the worst of the noise she was making.
Almost immediately, recriminations filled her head. She’d been a fool to come here. She was inferior, a peasant who hadn’t the slightest chance of learning to act like an aristocrat. She simply couldn’t be taught. And she was completely alone.
She wanted to go home.
A fresh wave of gulping sobs shook her. So absorbed was she in her crying, that she almost didn’t hear the knock on the door. When she stopped long enough to see if someone had knocked, she heard it again, a gentle rapping that demanded attention.
Wiping at her eyes, she climbed off the bed and walked over to the door. “Who’s there?”
“Colin. Please open the door. I’d like to talk to you.”
“Is it proper for a man tae visit a lady in her bedchamber?” she asked in bitter tones.
“No, it isn’t, but to hell with propriety. I need to talk to you.”
Thinking of her swollen, reddened eyes, a sign of her weakness and vulnerability, she told him to go away.
“Sarah, if you don’t open this door, I’ll go to Mrs. Fitzbottom, retrieve the key, and enter without your consent. I will not leave you alone.”
Scowling, she opened the door. “Say yer piece, and then leave.”
Eyes wide, his expression uncertain, he assessed her for a moment before coming in and gesturing toward the chairs by the hearth. “Let’s sit down, shall we?”
“I don’t want tae chat, Colin. What is it ye wish tae say?”
He paused, his black hair falling rakishly across his forehead. She dropped her gaze lower, to those sensual full lips of his that she yearned to touch with her own, and quickly looked away.
“Phineas has handled this situation abominably,” he said, his voice husky. “He insisted you learn too much, too quickly. No one, not even the most aristocratic lady in all of Scotland, could have kept up with him. His lessons need to be more orderly and thought out, and delivered in smaller chunks.”
She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “That would help, although ye must see that I’m nae fit tae be a duchess.”
He touched her hair, and then allowed his hand to quickly drop away. “Sarah, this has nothing to do with you, and what you are or are not capable of. A student can’t learn if the teacher can’t teach. Please don’t blame yourself.”
His sympathy brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. Quickly she looked away. Even so, he must have seen them, for suddenly he mouthed an oath and slapped his fist against his open palm.
“If only I had said something to stop him,” he growled. “I should have seen what he was doing to you. I should have acted. To me, Phineas is amusing in even his worst snits, but to you . . . of course you wouldn’t find him amusing. Can you forgive me?”
She turned to face him again and attempted a shaky smile. “There’s nae tae forgive. Ye didn’t realize how badly I felt. And I know Mr. Graham is feeling a lot of pressure also. I guess these next three months will be hard.”
“Not so hard, Sarah.” He clasped her hand in his own, his grip strong, warm, and capable. “You aren’t alone here. I’ll stay with you, and help you, and be your friend if you need one.”
Sarah fought a desire to lean against him. She’d never wanted to lean on anyone else before in her life. But he’d lifted the worst of her problems from her shoulders, giving her relief at a time when she needed it most. She couldn’t help but admit how good it would feel to have this kind of support all the time.
“Will you ride with me?” he asked. “At two o’clock?”
“I would enjoy that very much.” Obeying an impulse, she covered their clasped hands with her own free one, earning a questioning look from him that was dark and primal and nearly made her giddy.
“My lady, I beg your forgiveness,” a male voice sounded from the doorway, breaking the spell between her and Colin. She released Colin’s hand and moved away from him to face Phineas, regretting the older man’s interruption but in a way glad for it, because she knew that if she’d spent any more time alone with Colin, she might have acted out one of her dreams.
Phineas stepped forward and positioned himself in front of her, his features schooled into both deference and worry. “I beg your forgiveness,” he repeated. “I hadn’t realized how hard this is for you, and I’m afraid I make a dreadful instructor. I see that I must think this whole thing through again and try to present the material you need to learn in a more patient and orderly fashion.”
Sarah tried on a smile and found that it fit pretty well. “Ye can have another chance, Mr. Graham. We’re all struggling, nae just me.”
The duke’s man of business bowed very low. “Thank you, my lady.”
When he rose, he appeared relieved. “We’ll continue to work on your speech. We’ll also spend the rest of the week talking about manners at formal and informal meals. Hopefully by the end of the month we’ll be ready to move on to dancing and singing.”
“Dancing and singing?” she asked doubtfully.
“And embroidery.” He looked at her with sympathy. “These are the skills a well-bred woman must display. We’ll take each day one at a time.”
Mrs. Fitzbottom chose that moment to join the fray, bustling into the room with an expression of worry on her face, then shooing the men out of the bedchamber, declaring her charge needed a nap. Phineas exited abruptly, more than happy to obey the elderly dame, and Colin followed after leveling one last smoldering look Sarah’s way, which left Sarah weak at the knees.
The housekeeper tried to urge her over to the bed, but Sarah would have none of it. She needed fresh air much more desperately than a nap. Still, the mystery of the letter within her reticule kept her from heading out of the bedchamber. Who could have written her? She knew she couldn’t have a peaceful walk until Mrs. Fitzbottom had read it to her.
“Mrs. Fitzbottom,” Sarah said, “I am going for a walk. But first, would ye be sae kind tae . . . that is, to . . . read a letter for me? I never learned tae . . . to read properly.”
“Are you sure you won’t take a nap? You appear a little peaked.”
“I won’t take a nap,” she confirmed.
“Well then, lass, you cannot walk in that dress.” Mrs. Fitzbottom hustled over to Sarah’s wardrobe.
Mystified, Sarah examined the sky-blue satin wreathing her form. “Why not?”
“Walking requires an entirely new dress. As does riding.” The housekeeper yanked an ivory muslin gown from the wardrobe.
“I’ll be riding later in the afternoon,” Sarah warned her. “With the Earl of Cawdor.”
“I can see you’ll be keeping me busy.” The older woman slipped around behind Sarah, presumably
to undo Sarah’s buttons. “I forget what it’s like to be young. So much energy!”
Sarah moved out of her reach and drew the letter from her reticule. “Please, would ye read the letter first, Mrs. Fitzbottom?”
“Why, of course.” Squinting, the housekeeper accepted the parchment from Sarah, walked to the windows, and opened it. She began to read in a matter-of-fact voice:
My dear Lady Sarah,
How pleased I was to hear from my husband, Lord Helmsgate, of your reappearance! My husband and your dear father the Duke of Argyll are very old friends indeed, and we were both over-joyed that the duke’s anguish over his loss might finally abate.
The ton is abuzz with news of your recovery. Let me be the first to welcome you back to your rightful position. I understand you are as yet unmarried, with your debut planned for three months hence. I am writing to offer you both my friendship and advice in dealing with the society in which you will soon immerse yourself. The waters here in London can be very thick with sharks!
Indeed, my Lord Helmsgate has brought it to my attention that a certain nobleman — other than your dear father, of course — is residing in Inveraray at this moment.
Mrs. Fitzbottom trailed off, her brows drawing together. A slight flush grew on her cheeks. “Oh dear. I don’t know if I should go on.”
Dismayed, Sarah followed the housekeeper to the window. She knew who the nobleman at Inveraray was. “Ye must. Please, finish. I must know the rest.”
“All right, then.” Mrs. Fitzbottom cleared her throat and began to read again.
I must implore you, stay away from this nobleman! By all accounts, he is a rakehell who has made a name for himself among the fairer sex.
The housekeeper hesitated, her cheeks flaming. Sarah turned around and stared thoughtfully out the window. She was starting to get a very clear picture of Colin’s personality, and the part of her interested in self-preservation demanded that she keep as far away from him as possible. And yet, remembering how he’d come to her after that terrible scene in the dining room and asked to be her friend, she wondered if goodness in him might outweigh the darker aspects of his character.
“Go on, Mrs. Fitzbottom,” Sarah directed.
The housekeeper hesitated, then continued in a resolute voice:
Protect yourself from him, dear Lady Sarah, for he is the worst sort of man, insuring his own immunity by tormenting victims who cannot fight back without ruining their reputations: women.
I hope you find usefulness in my advice, and look forward to meeting you, Lady Sarah. When you are planning your next trip to London, please visit. We would so enjoy your company.
I remain yours, in friendship,
— Lady Amelia Helmsgate
Mrs. Fitzbottom refolded the letter. Her mouth drooping, she handed it back to Sarah. “This letter saddens me. I see Mr. Colin hasn’t changed much.”
Brow furrowed, Sarah took it from her. “How well do ye know him?”
“I’ve known the earl since he was a young lad first come to Inveraray. Now, I don’t usually talk about the family, mind you, but seeing as you’ve received such bad tidings regarding him, I feel it’s my duty to explain.”
“Please do, Mrs. Fitzbottom,” Sarah encouraged, all ears.
“Call me Mrs. Fitz.” The elderly housekeeper patted her kindly on the hand. “I don’t know much about Mr. Colin’s mother and father, other than what I heard in the servants’ quarters.
“Apparently the duke didn’t like the late Earl and Countess of Cawdor much. Called them wastrels who flitted from one scrape to another, and considered their son wild beyond redemption. The lad had already been sent down several times from different fancy schools, and it had come to the point where no one would take him.”
“It doesna sound like he had much guidance,” Sarah murmured.
“No, he hadn’t any guidance at all. And if you ask me, he had even less love. I don’t know how your mother raised you, Lady Sarah, but in my book, a child needs to be hugged and paid mind to. Mr. Colin had none of that. No touching, no affection, just a cuff on the cheek for some wild prank or another.”
Unbidden, thoughts of her own youth with the Murphys surfaced in her mind. Mr. and Mrs. Murphy had known so many worries that they’d paid her little attention, other than to insure that she didn’t starve. In fact, they’d taken her in only because they couldn’t have children themselves and needed help on the farm. Sarah had grown up telling herself she shouldn’t feel neglected. Such was the way of life in the Highlands, and everyone accepted it.
But now, listening to the older woman talk, she wondered if perhaps she should have expected more as a child. Would her true mother, whoever she was, have loved her and cuddled her? If only she could remember just one scrap of a memory about the woman who’d borne her! That aching loneliness that she’d always known during her nights flared to life in full daylight. She bowed her head, a deep melancholy gathering around her like fog, dulling her senses, making her tired.
The housekeeper grew still. Then, hesitantly, she stroked Sarah’s hair. “There, lass,” she murmured. “I can see you know a little of what I’m talking about. But you’re here now, where you belong, with people who love you. You will always be loved, lass. We’ll always take care of you. That’s what family is for.”
Swallowing back the tears, Sarah looked up and wiped her eyes. She didn’t want to talk about her own place in the family, not with the duke, and not with Mrs. Fitzbottom. She didn’t want to come to rely upon them — love them, even — when she only planned on staying long enough to convince the duke that she could never be the daughter he wished for.
“Still, the duke took Colin in,” she whispered huskily.
“Yes, he took Mr. Colin in because the lad was the only living relative to the Argyll dukedom. And don’t you know, I heard Mr. Colin crying in his bed every night for at least a month after he’d come here. His parents’ abandoning him hurt him terribly.”
Sarah could hear outrage in the housekeeper’s voice and knew Colin’s suffering had been very real. Still, she had a difficult time picturing that sensuous mouth of his doing anything but teasing.
“I often thought the lad needed something to grab hold of him, to encourage him to feel again,” the housekeeper continued. “I credit the duke with putting the only crack into Mr. Colin’s shell by prodding him to work on the estate. After a time, Mr. Colin threw himself into making Inveraray a grand estate again with such a vengeance that it was as if God had put him on this earth for that purpose only.”
“He did a first-rate job,” Sarah observed, remembering the beautiful gardens and perfectly appointed rooms.
“Aye, he did, but Inveraray has been the only thing to ever pierce the armor he’s surrounded himself in. I don’t mean to suggest he doesn’t love women, for he does, in his own safe way. But he’s never been in love, as far as I know. Indeed, I don’t believe he knows how to love.” Mrs. Fitzbottom shook her head. “That’s why Lady Helmsgate’s letter saddens me so. I was hoping he might have found someone who’d taught him how to love.”
Head tilted, Sarah mulled it over. No longer did Colin appear quite so wicked. Instead, for all he had, he just seemed lost, like her.
“Have you met Lady Helmsgate?” she questioned.
“Not met, exactly. She came to visit a few years ago, after she and Lord Helmsgate had married.”
“What did you think of her?”
“She was very young.” The housekeeper pressed her lips together, evidently unwilling to say more.
“Do you trust her word?”
“I’ve heard these things about Mr. Colin through other sources,” she admitted. “Still, I stand by my opinion. He may be damaged, but inside, he’s a good man. In fact, when you go riding with Mr. Colin, stop and ask a few of the duke’s tenants about him, and consider what they tell you.”
Sarah nodded thoughtfully. Colin may, indeed, have a good heart beneath that lecherous exterior, but she still had to treat h
im with care, lest he ruin her in some way. If only the notion didn’t bother her so much. Heaven knew she looked forward to every second she spent in his company. He was the most fascinating man she’d ever met.
She had never thought about the feel of silk against her skin, or the sweet taste of honey rolling across her tongue, or the soft whisper of rose water rising off a hot bath, until he had urged her to do so. A sensualist, Colin had clearly devoted a good portion of his life to feeling physically, if not emotionally. And when he looked at her with those smoky eyes of his, she could think of nothing but begging him to teach her every little detail he’d learned.
Mrs. Fitzbottom, who had been studying her, placed a gentle hand on Sarah’s arm. “I like Mr. Colin, but I’ll still tell you to be wary of him. From what I’ve heard, he could sweet-talk a woman into almost . . . anything.”
Sarah nodded her agreement, far too aware of Colin’s charms.
“Will you be going for your walk?” the older woman asked.
“Aye.”
“Let me help you change, then.”
While Mrs. Fitzbottom fussed about, subjecting Sarah to another interminable session of prodding and lacing, this time into a sturdier gown, Sarah remembered the picture of the white beast in the drawing room. A unicorn, the earl had called it. Suddenly the need to find her unicorn almost overwhelmed her with its intensity. She was so confused. She didn’t even know her own mind anymore, or where she belonged.
“Please hurry, Mrs. Fitz.”
“I’ll call a footman.” The housekeeper moved toward the silken pull cord.
Sarah stopped her with a soft touch to the wrist. “I want tae go alone.”
“But my lady, you mustn’t. You could get lost, or run into a ruffian from the village, or —”
