Several hours later, Nicholas waited in the hallway for Sarah. She was “resting,” Becky had informed him frostily when he returned from the bankers, and could not be disturbed. Since his only opportunity to apologize before the ball would be to waylay her before she came downstairs for dinner, he’d dressed hurriedly and now lurked about like a guilty schoolboy anxious to make amends for a stupid prank. Which, he sighed, was not far wrong.
At last Sarah emerged, a thin shawl of spangled gauze across her shoulders. Her simple gown of gold-frosted emerald silk clung to her curves and glittered as she moved, reflecting the light much more provocatively than the fine Stanhope emeralds at her neck and ears.
Tonight his family would present her to the ton as his bride. She looked magnificent, he thought with pride.
“Good evening, sweet Sarah.”
“Nicholas!” she gasped. “You—startled me.”
He let his appreciative gaze travel over her figure. “No one will have eyes for any other lady tonight.”
To his surprise, she frowned. “The bodice is too low, just as I feared. I shall change immediately.”
“No, the gown is lovely! Truly, Sarah.” He caught her arm. “You’ve no need to change.”
She stiffened at his touch and glanced up warily, as if she expected he might bite. “Are you sure?”
The open, trusting look he’d grown accustomed to had vanished totally. He felt an almost physical ache. “You look stunning. I’ll be the proudest man in London tonight.”
Raising a skeptical eyebrow, she put her hand lightly, almost reluctantly on his arm. “Shall we go down, then?”
She took a step. Nicholas stood motionless, perforce halting her. “I came earlier to apologize, but Becky absolutely refused to let me in. I am sorry, Sarah, terribly sorry. I should never have played such a stupid, ill-judged trick. I expect you’d gone to a deal of trouble, and you have every right to be angry.”
“I’m not angry,” she replied, “not anymore. I suspect I’ve been…smothering you with my attentions. I don’t have enough to keep me busy.” She offered a small, polite smile. “I must confess, I did wish you’d chosen to bring the matter to my attention in a less, ah, dramatic manner.”
Nicholas wished she’d rip up at him, call him a cad—she could scarce come up with a name he’d not already applied to himself. Anything but this distant wariness.
Had he only yesterday thought how nice ’twould be to distance himself from his oversolicitous wife? Well, Sarah had withdrawn from him, quite definitely. And he hated it.
As he fumbled for an apology abject enough to thaw the chilly caution in her eyes, his mother arrived. “How lovely you look, Sarah! Is she not beautiful, Nicky?”
“So I’ve just been telling her, Mama,” he replied, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.
Setting the cap on his disgruntlement, Sarah turned to her mother-in-law with a smile of genuine warmth. “Not half so fine as you, Lady Englemere.”
“Stuff and nonsense,” his mother said, linking her arm with Sarah’s. “Shall we go dazzle our guests?”
’Twas nothing for it but to offer an arm to each lady. Near fuming with frustration, Nicholas escorted them down.
Would the dratted ball never end? Nicholas thought as the night dragged on. As usual, he’d exchanged a bare handful of words with Sarah. After they’d been released from the receiving line, so assiduous had his mother been in taking Sarah round to chat with their many honored guests, he’d managed to nab her for only one dance. Since that had been the opening cotillion conducted under the attentive gaze of several hundred people, it had hardly offered him a chance for any private remark.
Perhaps he could steal her away now. He walked toward the head of the stairs where he’d glimpsed his mama greeting some late arrivals. The full figure and sinuous carriage of the lady now ascending those stairs caught his eye, and his heart nearly stopped.
Appropriately dressed in scarlet, the rubies he’d once given her flashing on her bosom, came Chloe Ingram. His horrified gaze expanded to include an all-too-familiar hussar on whose arm Chloe hung. What the devil did she mean coming here? Had Sandiford brought her?
Speechless with outrage, Nicholas stood frozen. He thawed quickly as his mother threw him a look of furious reproach. Mystified and seething, he hurried to her.
“So kind of you to include me, Lady Englemere,” Chloe was saying. She turned to Nicholas, her eyes glowing. “My lord, I can’t tell you how happy I was to be invited.”
His mother looked at him accusingly. Wishing the floor would swallow him up, Nicholas prayed Sarah was in the refreshment room. While his mother murmured something polite to Chloe, Nicholas leaned to the captain.
“Did you bring her?” he said in a furious undertone.
“Me?” Sandiford lifted an eyebrow. “Certainly not. I came in while she was handing her invitation to the butler and she latched on my arm like a barnacle.”
Chloe had an invitation, then. How in heaven had she gotten it? Never in this life would his mother have sent one. While he racked his brain, Chloe sent him a smoky, intimate glance, ending it with a pantomimed kiss.
Nicholas felt ill. There was no question what interpretation Chloe had applied to his bidding her, so she thought, to his wife’s presentation ball. Save Sandiford, who’d just disclaimed with unfeigned disgust he’d had no hand in it, who could detest him—or Sarah—that much?
Even as he asked it, he knew the answer. How Findlay had gotten Weston to manage it, Nicholas had no idea, but this had to be his handiwork.
Never would Nicholas have believed himself capable of uttering the next words out of his mouth, but gritting his teeth, he managed it. “Would you watch Sarah for me while I get rid of—her?” he asked the captain under his breath.
His face contemptuous, the captain’s chill blue eyes held Nicholas’s impassioned green ones.
“I tell you, I had nothing to do with this!”
“Nothing?” The captain’s glance traveled to the magnificent ruby necklace nestled between Chloe’s breasts. “Oh, I daresay you had something to do with it. But for Sarah’s sake, I’ll do as you ask.”
Nicholas didn’t waste time arguing. “She may be in the refreshment room. Give me fifteen minutes.”
Nodding, the captain took himself off. Nicholas groaned, thinking of Sally Jersey and her Almack patroness friends waltzing just beyond the open doorway. Pray God I get her out of here before anyone else sees her.
Dropping a fulsome compliment, he took his mistress’s gloved hand off his mother’s affronted sleeve and began walking her downstairs.
“Where are you taking me, Nicky?” she asked, her face still lit with triumph and pleasure. “Oh, you naughty thing. Not at your own ball, surely!”
“How did you come to be here, Chloe?”
“Why, I received an invitation, and knew immediately what you intended. How sweet of you to make so public a gesture, if a bit—indiscreet?” She gave him an arch look.
They reached the bottom of the staircase. “Summon Mrs. Ingram’s carriage,” Nicholas told Glendenning curtly.
Chloe’s warmth cooled as she looked up at Nicholas’s unsmiling face. “Nicholas?”
“Chloe, I regret treating you with such brusqueness, but we’re both the victims of a particularly vicious practical joke. You must realize the last thing my mother—or I—would do would be invite you to my wife’s ball.”
Understanding dawned in the luminous dark eyes. “I take it that my presence is, shall we say, de trop?”
Nicholas nodded grimly. “I appreciate your understanding about this, Chloe.”
“Oh, certainly. You’ll find I can be wonderfully understanding. My friends were so surprised when I got the card. Whatever shall I tell them?”
Nicholas shot a glance down. Some strong emotion stormed across her face, but the smile that followed it was sweet—altogether too sweet. “I’ll not forget this, Nicky.”
A rigidly disapproving Gl
endenning handed Nicholas her cloak. Before he could drape it about her, Chloe stayed his hand. “Am I permitted to use the retiring room? Or must you have me ejected immediately?”
Nearly gnashing his teeth with impatience to spirit her away, Nicholas could hardly deny that request. He made himself smile. “Down the hallway, to your left.”
An angry glitter in her eyes, she walked off. Chloe might be furious, but Nicholas had few thoughts to spare for that. ’Twould be nothing to the uproar in the ton should someone see her here. Nicholas paced as he waited, the loud ticking of the tall case clock in the entry sounding like a warning of approaching doom.
After what seemed an age, during which Nicholas kept throwing anxious glances from the front door to the stairway to the landing, Chloe finally reappeared. Strangely, her spirits seemed much revived.
“Thank you, Chloe,” he said, relieved she’d not treated him to a full-scale scene in front of Glendenning and the attendant footmen. “I’ll not forget your consideration.”
She laughed. “Oh, I daresay you shall not.”
Her humor fading, she wrenched her shoulder from under his hand. Glendenning already held the door open. Without further goodbye, she raised her chin and walked out.
Nicholas hastened up the stairs. He encountered the captain, minus Sarah, coming out of the refreshment room.
“I kept her as long as I could. Insisted then she must check the kitchens.” He frowned. “She’s worn to the nub, and ought to retire.”
Despite his gratitude, Nicholas stiffened at the implied criticism. “Thank you, Captain, for your concern.”
Just then Sarah appeared. She did indeed look so pale Nicholas felt a wave of anxiety—followed immediately by panic. Had someone seen Chloe after all, and told her?
Forgetting the captain, he went to her. “Sweeting, you look tired. I daresay some guests will stay till dawn, but there’s no need for you to do so. Shall I take you up?”
To his immense relief, he could detect nothing more alarming in the smile with which she greeted him than fatigue. “Should I not remain?”
“Mama will say whatever is necessary.”
Sarah made no further protest. “I have been rather fatigued this hour and more,” she admitted. “If ’twould be no discourtesy, I should like to go up.”
“I’ll escort you, then, and inform Mama when I return.”
She nodded. “Good night, Sinjin,” she called over his shoulder. “Thank you for coming to the ball.”
“Good night, Sarah. Rest well.” Sandiford bowed to her and, after a brief accusing look, to Nicholas. With a fervent prayer of thanks for letting him escape so disastrous a situation unscathed, Nicholas led her upstairs.
Becky had readied her for bed, tucked her up and snuffed the candle, but despite her very real fatigue Sarah lay sleepless against the pillows.
She would make preparations to leave for Wellingford tomorrow. She simply must get away.
Sarah stared into the fire’s glowing embers. She was still humiliated and furious over the squid incident, deeply hurt that Nicholas would repay her honest efforts so shabbily. And the manner of it! After she had bared her soul to him, gathered up her courage to reveal how deeply gaming distressed her, he had gone right off and made her, his own wife, the object of a wager.
The very thought of it still made her so angry she could scarcely breathe. He had not understood—he would never understand the lack of responsibility, the reckless toying with disaster that gambling represented to her.
And yet he could also be so kind. So thoughtfully attentive and considerate, she’d been completely unprepared for casual cruelty. She’d deluded herself into believing she was being wary, when in truth she’d been much too trusting—in too many ways.
As she discovered this evening after visiting the kitchens. Having ensured all was in train for the midnight supper, she stopped at the ladies’ retiring room—and literally bumped into Chloe Ingram.
Chapter Fourteen
For a moment she was too astonished to say a word. Oh, Mrs. Ingram had been all that was polite. She complimented Sarah’s gown and expressed her appreciation at being invited. As if Sarah had included her.
Only Nicholas could have done so. The full import of that invitation was just now dawning on her weary mind. That Nicholas had bade his mistress be present could only mean he was continuing their liaison. More than that—he was virtually trumpeting that fact to the ton.
Perhaps someone was competing with him for the favors of the beauteous Mrs. Ingram. Whatever his purpose, the lady herself made her own intentions perfectly clear.
“Of course, I expected your ball to be lavish and your gown lovely,” she said after her pretty compliments. “Nicky is ever generous.” And she smiled sweetly, lowered her glance and patted the magnificent rubies at her breast.
Though the woman insinuated nothing she did not already know, Sarah had been cut to the quick by that deliberate reminder of her husband’s regard for another. And furious.
With the regrettable impetuosity she had thought long since mastered, she shot back, “Generous indeed, Mrs. Ingram. Only remember, when all you have of Nicholas are those rubies to recall him by, I shall have his son.”
She swept out of the room, regretting as soon as they were uttered words as uncharitable as Mrs. Ingram’s gesture. And as true. She must quit London.
Wellingford’s rolling meadows and tranquil woods beckoned to her. Yes, she’d go to Wellingford tomorrow.
Too restless to sleep, she jumped up and paced to her desk. She would start her packing lists immediately.
She was drawing out pen and paper when the door opened. Nicholas stepped in and halted abruptly.
“Sarah, what are you doing up? I thought you asleep long since. I was just about to retire myself.”
How could I go peacefully to sleep after all you’ve done today? she wanted to shout. Aghast she’d nearly cried the words aloud, she bit her tongue and thanked the dim light that hid her flushing cheeks.
“Now that my presentation’s complete, your mama will be returning to Stanhope Hall. I thought to visit Wellingford. The prospect was so exciting, I couldn’t sleep.”
“You’ll want to check on the improvements you ordered, I expect. And see about that—what was it, rapeseed?”
“Yes, I will.” His immediate acquiescence shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Fool, she told herself crossly. Had she expected him to urge her to linger? Once his officially presented wife left town, he could take back up with his officially presented mistress.
“I’m pleased you were thinking of Wellingford, for I have a surprise for you that concerns it.”
She must have looked alarmed, for Nicholas winced. “Don’t distress yourself, Sarah. I’m reasonably certain this surprise you shall like.”
He cleared his throat. “After my inexcusable behavior today, I wanted to express my heartfelt regret for upsetting you. I considered jewelry, but then I decided a fund for Wellingford would please you more. So I’ve set up an initial account of five thousand pounds, in your name only. You may draw on it when you wish, as you wish.”
Sarah sat stunned. Then she recalled Mrs. Ingram’s sly words, and a pain twisted in her heart.
“I hardly know what to say. ’Tis wondrous generous.” She managed a slight smile. “The affront was hardly that great, my lord.”
“The affront cannot be measured, sweeting. You were only trying to please me, and I callously threw your efforts in your teeth. If that weren’t bad enough, ’twas in the form of a wager, something you could not help but despise.”
The hard edge of her anger softened. Perhaps Nicholas did have some inkling of what his actions had meant to her.
“I know I can’t buy your goodwill, Sarah, but I should earnestly like to have it.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Can you forgive me? I promise you, I shall do my utmost never to treat you so shabbily again.”
Whether he understood fully or not, he did realize he’d hurt her
—and how. He was offering a handsome and unquestionably sincere apology. She should accept it in like spirit.
What of Mrs. Ingram? her heart whispered. She stifled the thought. When she accepted Nicholas, she had accepted Mrs. Ingram as well. ’Twould be dishonorable to go back on her bargain now, no matter how difficult she found the keeping of it. “Of course I forgive you.”
He searched her face so intently she had to look away, then sighed. “Your lips speak of forgiveness, but your eyes tell me no. I shall have to be at my most charming during our country sojourn if I hope to win back your regard.”
“Our? But you cannot mean to come with me!”
“Of course I shall come. As it happens, I have a minor holding not too distant from Wellingford. It’s been under a cousin’s management, and I’ve not checked on it in a great while. You can start on my lessons in estate management.”
Sarah was flabbergasted. Why would Nicholas wish to leave London, when he might take advantage of her absence to dally with Mrs. Ingram?
“You needn’t escort me, Nicholas. I’ll have Becky.”
“Besides, you’ve told me so much of Wellingford, I’m quite anxious to see it.”
Ah, he wished to discover if his money had been wisely spent. “The improvements I’ve ordered are necessary and well worth the expense. There’s no need for you to inspect Wellingford personally.”
“I’m sure you’ve done as you ought. I should enjoy seeing Wellingford, though, and visiting your family again.”
He was being remarkably persistent, Sarah thought with exasperation. “I’m afraid the way I’ve described Wellingford—the way it lives in my imagining—and its current state have little in common. I’d rather show it to you after it has been restored. Besides, my stay might be rather extended, and you cannot wish to be gone long.”
“But if you go, sweeting—” he lifted her hand to kiss her palm “—then of course I must be with you.”
Ah, that. A bittersweet pain spiraled through her. Well, she could allay that concern. “You needn’t trouble yourself,” she said softly. “’Tis quite fitting that you stay in London whilst I repair to the country. Is that not where breeding wives are supposed to go?”
The Wedding Gamble Page 19
