The Wedding Gamble

by Julia Justiss

  “All the staff have been concerned, if I may be permitted to say so, your ladyship. Very happy we all are to have you safely back with us.”

  Sarah felt a lump in her throat. “Thank you, Glendenning. I’m very happy to be here.”

  The butler and footman withdrew, leaving them to their feast. As they ate, Nicholas regaled her with what had been going on in society during her absence. He did not, she noted, mention Sir James Findlay’s engagement.

  When they’d finished their tea, he came to sit beside her on the sofa. “Are you happy to be back, Sarah? I hope so. For I’m devilish happy to have you here.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I trust you’ve gotten over the absurd idea you failed me. Such things happen, as Mama surely told you. I still consider myself the most fortunate man in England to have married you.”

  Joy, pain and a wild hope she tried hard to restrain surged through her. “Thank you, Nicholas,” she whispered.

  “Sarah, I may be only a man, but I have some idea how difficult this has been for you.” He cleared his throat. “I want to assure you, I won’t…ask anything of you until you’re ready.”

  Feeling unaccountably shy, she looked away. Though she’d not expected he would force himself on her, she was nonetheless touched. Over her days of packing and travel, however, she’d decided that it was foolish to deny herself any longer the pleasure and comfort of intimacy with him.

  Fiercely she pushed aside the thought of Chloe Ingram. While Nicholas loved her, he was hers alone, and she’d been stupid to forgo that ecstasy simply because she could not have him exclusively. Besides, perhaps the doctor was right, and if there were another child…

  But first, she must deal with Sir James Findlay.

  Reluctantly breaking their warm intimacy, she asked, “What entertainments are planned this evening? Would your hostess be offended to accommodate an extra guest?”

  “Hardly, when that guest is my wife. But are you sure you wish to go out? You’ve had a long journey, and so recently after—well, I don’t want you tiring yourself.”

  “I’m fully recovered, Nicholas. And after living in London, the country can get a bit dull.”

  She told that plumper with barely a quiver. ’Twas true for some people, even if it was not her own opinion, she silently justified herself.

  “Certainly we’ll go out if you wish it, sweeting. Hal’s coming to dine. We’ve cards for several functions, Lady Richardson’s ball being the most important.”

  Clare had once informed her nothing less than a deathbed illness would keep a member of society from this exclusive fete, whose invitation list was sometimes laughingly described as the membership roll of the haut ton.

  Surely Findlay, who prided himself on his lineage, would be there—with his betrothed and her parents.

  “I think I should like that, if you care to go. Clare’s told me so much about it.”

  “If we’re to attend, you must rest before tonight.” Nicholas kissed her hand one more time and retained it, as if reluctant to let go. “Hal arrives at eight. Shall I walk you up?”

  Reveling in his touch, Sarah could not force herself to refuse. “Thank you, I should like that.”

  Nicholas tucked her hand in his arm and went slowly up the stairs, as if he feared a more vigorous pace might overcome her. After escorting her to her sitting room, he rang for Becky. He glanced toward the door of the adjoining bedchamber, and his eyes took on a well remembered glow.

  Sarah felt her pulses quicken, but Nicholas straightened. He took a deep breath, then made her a bow. “I’ll leave you to Becky’s care. Rest well, sweeting.”

  Sarah watched him go with regret. Tempted as she was to give him some signal she was ready for the interlude his heated glance promised, she did need to rest. More important, she needed to plan.

  Given his opinion of the man, Nicholas would doubtless want her to avoid the baronet. Sarah had thus decided to attempt resolving the matter of Findlay’s marriage unassisted. As wedding plans were already in train, she must begin tonight.

  Sarah found it easier than anticipated to get a private chat with Miss Buxley. Spying the young lady headed for the withdrawing room, she sped after her.

  As they reached the corner, Sarah bumped into the girl. “Oh, how clumsy of me. I do beg your pardon!”

  Miss Buxley turned to her a pale, blue-eyed face even younger than Sarah remembered. “’Twas nothing.”

  “Miss Buxley, is it not? I’m Lady Englemere,” Sarah offered a hand and a friendly smile. “I’ve just returned to town. Let me congratulate you on your engagement.”

  Was it a trick of the light, or did the girl pale? “Thank you, Lady Englemere.”

  “You might know that before my marriage, Sir James was much in my company. I came to know him rather well.”

  The girl shot her a glance from under a heavy fringe of lashes. Sarah saw caution—and fear. “You did?”

  “Yes. Forgive my bluntness, and any offense this might cause you, but do you wish to marry him?”

  The girl’s lips trembled and she looked away. “’Tis a good match, Mama says. He will make a handsome settlement.”

  “’Tis shockingly intrusive of me, but I was very nearly compelled to marry Sir James. I know him. And so I ask again—do you wish to marry him? Trust me, please!”

  “No, I don’t wish it!” the girl burst out, and clapped a hand over her mouth. She looked around wildly, as if afraid someone might overhear. “No,” she repeated, “but what can I do?” Her face crumpled. “He—he frightens me!”

  Silent sobs shook her slender shoulders. Sarah looked at the childish face with its flaxen curls, the delicate frame, and knew whatever it required, she could not allow Findlay to get control of this innocent.

  “I told Mama.” Miss Buxley raised tear-spangled eyes. “She just said all brides suffer from nerves, and if I pleased Sir James, he would treat me well.” The girl paused, mingled fear and loathing in her face. “But I don’t want to do—what he said.”

  A bolt of pure rage tempered Sarah’s concern. The despicable sadist. Could he not choose a more worthy adversary? This poor child wouldn’t last a fortnight.

  “They can’t force you to marry him, you know. ’Twill be difficult, but simply tell your father you will not have him. Lovely as you are, you must have other suitors.”

  “But none so rich.” The girl sighed unhappily. “And Sir James gave Papa a large sum of money when the betrothal was announced, he told me. So that I should not think to cry off.” She twisted her handkerchief between her fingers.

  “Tell your papa what Sir James said you must do.”

  “I could never!” Miss Buxley gasped, scarlet flushing her pale face. “I did try to tell him I could not like Sir James, Lady Englemere, but he only said I should be a good girl, and not bother him, and sent me off to Mama. I want to be a credit to Papa, but—but I can’t please Sir James.” She gave a helpless sob. “And they will not listen.”

  Frowning over the golden head, Sarah patted the girl soothingly. Clearly, she was too weak-willed to flatly refuse Findlay. Sarah would have to approach her parents.

  “Don’t despair, Miss Buxley.” She handed over a fresh handkerchief. “I shall contrive something.”

  “Oh, Lady Englemere, if only you could!” Miss Buxley clasped her hand fervently. “Sir James mentioned you to me, you know.” A puzzled look crossed her guileless face. “He said you owed him a debt, but I would repay it. I cannot imagine what he meant.”

  A chill ran through Sarah. The ton had followed Findlay’s assiduous courtship of her, had doubtless snickered over her last-minute preference for Nicholas. A man of his pride could not forgive that.

  That he might take out his rage on this child sickened her. Without doubt, she must prevent their marriage.

  Being a marchioness had its advantages, Sarah thought ruefully. Miss Buxley’s mama was only too happy to stroll with her on the terrace.

  Lady Buxley’s pleased look at being singled out fade
d rapidly, however, when after listening to a lengthy discourse about wedding plans, Sarah pressed her about her daughter’s feelings toward her intended.

  “Having spoken with Miss Buxley, I received the distinct impression she held Sir James in aversion.”

  “Surely you misunderstood, my lady,” the mama protested. “Sir James has been everything courteous.”

  “She has never mentioned feeling ill at ease?”

  Lady Buxley shifted uncomfortably. “Well, if she is a bit nervous, ’tis only normal. She’s been well brought up, and is rather—uninformed about the duties of matrimony.”

  “Lady Buxley, I believe your daughter fears Sir James. And I must tell you, she does so with good reason. Do you not know his two previous wives died, under what can only charitably be called mysterious circumstances?”

  Lady Buxley twitched her shawl. “I’m sure I don’t listen to gossip, Lady Englemere. Nor, with all respect, can I see that this is any business of yours.”

  “Please, Lady Buxley, it may be improper of me to interfere, but I was once nearly engaged to Sir James. Having every expectation of marrying me, he revealed aspects of his character that, I implore you to believe, render him unfit to be the husband of a delicate young girl! I cannot claim to know your daughter well, but this I do know—if you care for her, do not force her to wed Sir James.”

  “But the trousseau is ordered and the preparations in train!” Lady Buxley twisted her hands. “And Sir James is so charming. Surely you are mistaken.”

  Sarah fixed a grim gaze on the lady. “I wish I were, Lady Buxley, but I promise you I am not. Sir James is a widower twice over. ’Tis her very life at stake.”

  Strong emotion flitted across the woman’s face. Then she flung off Sarah’s hand, as if by breaking that contact she could erase the disturbing picture Sarah had sketched.

  “I appreciate your concern, Lady Englemere. But Angela’s papa has conversed extensively with Sir James. He has his daughter’s welfare at heart, I assure you, and if there were anything untoward in Sir James’s character, he would have discovered it. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  With a nervous glance, as if she feared Sarah might compel her to remain, she hurried back across the terrace. Sarah ground her teeth.

  The woman was uneasy over the match. But she obviously preferred to pass responsibility for it onto her husband. Sarah would have to seek out Baron Buxley.

  Fortunately, as it had been nearly half an hour since she left the ballroom and her solicitous husband would soon be searching for her, she’d already concocted a plan for accosting that gentleman. And the card room was probably the last place Nicholas would think to look for her.

  Sarah found Lord Buxley just as a hand of piquet broke up. Quickly drawing him into conversation, she praised his skill and begged he might engage her for a game.

  Lord Buxley preened a little. “Be happy to take you on, your ladyship. I’ll endeavor not to fleece you too badly.” He laughed heartily at his own joke.

  Sarah chatted of idle matters until the cards were played out, herself losing heavily, before broaching her subject. “I wished to speak with you about a different lamb, Lord Buxley. Your daughter Angela. She’s to marry Sir James Findlay, I understand.”

  “Yes, a fine man. Excellent family.”

  “Lord Buxley, do you know of Sir James’s past?”

  The baron’s genial glow dimmed. “I’ve heard some nonsense. Nothing to it. Have only to speak with the man to know that. True gentleman.”

  “My lord, much as I regret it, I must disagree. I was once nearly promised to Sir James, and I assure you those—rumors you heard are not exaggerated.”

  Lord Buxley looked annoyed. “See here, your ladyship, I’ve talked with the man, and I’m satisfied. I expect your husband is waiting for you.” Nodding a dismissal, he rose.

  Sarah grabbed his sleeve. “Sir James may be charming, but he is dangerous as well.” At her last hope, she unbuttoned her glove to the wrist and held her arm out. “I displeased Sir James once, and he did this.”

  He glanced at her wrist and quickly away. “Sir James is a gentleman. Yes, and a generous one. I’ve no doubts about my daughter’s safety and happiness, none whatsoever.” He scowled at Sarah. “She will not displease him.” He tugged at his sleeve.

  Sarah did not release it. “And if he cannot be pleased? Do you care for her so little you will risk that?”

  “This is ridiculous,” the baron said in a furious undertone. “Of course I care for my daughter. I begin to think you deranged, my good woman.”

  Then his face lit. “Ah—just remembered. Lost a child a month ago, didn’t you? Poor lady. You’re still distressed, naturally. Such a thing’s bound to upset a female.” He patted her shoulder.

  “Have your husband take you home to rest, that’s the ticket. And don’t worry, my gel’s future is well in hand.”

  With a fatuous smile, such as the nervous bestow on lunatics, he pulled loose his sleeve and walked off.

  Slowly Sarah refastened her glove, despair settling over her. So much for dissuading the Buxleys. They either could not, or would not listen.

  She looked up to find Chloe Ingram’s dark eyes on her. The woman gave her a mock-sympathetic glance and smiled.

  I have Nicholas, the smile said. What do you have?

  It needed only that to cap off the evening. Her eyes brimming tears, she brushed past the woman, sped blindly down the hall and ran headlong into a tall, blue-coated figure.

  Sinjin steadied her. “Sarah, whatever is wrong?”

  “N-nothing.”

  “Was it Mrs. Ingram?” he persisted, his eyes searching her face. “I saw her at the doorway to the card room. Did that doxy say something to upset you?”

  “Not at all. She merely smiled at me.”

  Sarah had never been a good liar. Sinjin took another look at her face, steered her into an adjacent room and handed her a handkerchief.

  With admirable compassion, he looked away while she mopped her eyes. “Thank you, Sinjin. I’m better now.”

  “Are you better, Sarah? I was so sorry to hear about the child. I didn’t dare write, but I grieved for you.”

  Sarah had recourse to his handkerchief again. After a moment, she got her emotions under a modicum of control.

  “You should count yourself fortunate.” She attempted a smile. “I’ve turned out to be a rather wretched wife.”

  “I could never think so.”

  “’Tis true, nonetheless. Thank you for assisting me, but I must get back.”

  “No, it wouldn’t do for Lady Englemere to be found with Captain Sandiford,” he said with bitter emphasis.

  “Nicholas would not like it.”

  Sinjin looked at her searchingly. “’Tis more than that, isn’t it, Sarah? I’ve felt the change for some time. You love Englemere, don’t you?”

  She didn’t attempt to deny it. This was Sinjin, and he knew her too well. “Yes,” she whispered.

  He swore softly.

  “Oh, Sinjin, you mustn’t feel that diminishes the love I had for you! Do you believe our hearts so poor and mean they can admit affection for one person only? You will always be dear to me, so dear that, regardless of my husband’s views, I dare not trust myself alone with you.”

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “Can you truly say you would settle for the illicit affair that is the only relationship possible for us? I could not so dishonor the love we shared, and neither could you!”

  “Could I not, Sarah darling?” For a fraught moment, she feared that, after her rash admission, he might pull her into his arms. But he merely stared at her, a gentle sadness slowly replacing the bitterness on his face.

  “I leave London the end of the week,” he said at last.

  “To rejoin your regiment?”

  “Yes. Who knows, after we’ve beaten Boney, I might stay on soldiering. There’s little enough for me here.”

  “Your mama wouldn’t like that.”

  He curl
ed his lip. “No, Mama would doubtless give me an earful, were I to see her.”

  “You’ve not visited her yet? Oh, Sinjin!”

  “I’ll post down to Sandiford before I leave. I’ve that much sense of duty.”

  “Have compassion on her, Sinjin. In her own way, she loves you very much.”

  He gave her a twisted smile. “What a fortunate lad. Blessed with two ladies who love me ‘in their own way.’”

  He put a finger to her lips before she could protest. With a hungry gaze so powerful she could feel its heat, he whispered, “One last time I will say it—I’ll love you till I die, Sarah Wellingford. If ever I can serve you, send for me.”

  She could not have spoken had she wished to. Once again, her eyes brimmed with tears.

  “Easy, sweetheart. I’ll not distress you further.” He offered her the handkerchief. “Tell that handsome husband of yours he’d best make you happy, or he’ll answer to me.”

  “Sarah, there you are—Sandiford!” Stopping short on the threshold, Nicholas’s anxious expression turned to surprise, then anger.

  “Lady Englemere was distressed.” The captain indicated the soggy handkerchief that Sarah had used to wipe her tears. “I escorted her here to compose herself.”

  Nicholas glared at Sandiford. How dare that blue-and-silver-braided popinjay secrete himself with Sarah! Nicholas had half a mind to call him out for his effrontery. And what had Sarah been thinking, to let him? What if Sally Jersey had walked in on them? “If my wife is distressed, I am fully capable of assisting her.”

  “Then why were you not nearby to assist?”

  “Nicholas, Sinjin, please!” Sarah burst in. “You are both distressing me now.”

  “I’ll take you home, Sarah. You look tired.”

  “I am, Nicholas. Perhaps I should not have come. Sinjin, thank you for the handkerchief.”

  “Keep it, Sarah. Should I not see you before week’s end, goodbye. My lord.” He bowed curtly and walked out.

  Seething, Nicholas propelled Sarah from the room.

  “Sinjin did assist me, Nicholas,” Sarah said as he hurried her down the hall. “Someone reminded me of—of the child. He found me a private place to recover, and offered his own condolences, which he wanted to do, he said, before leaving London. He rejoins his regiment next week.”