Courting A Sinful Stranger: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  Sarah bowed her head, as sorrow overwhelmed her. It was so cold-blooded, this calm talk of her father’s eventual demise, and the potential destitution of herself and her mother. It was almost more than she could bear.

  “I understand, Papa,” she said, her voice choked with emotion, “but I cannot be put under such pressure to make a choice of husband in only one night.” She paused. “I simply do not like any of the gentlemen I danced with last night. Of course, I shall endeavour to support Mama when the time comes, but that is so far away. You are only four and forty and in the picture of health. There is still so much time to find a suitable husband.”

  “Is there?” breathed her mother, her eyes shining with tears. “None of us know the future, Sarah. People are struck down in their prime. Accidents happen. That is why we must work tirelessly to secure our future now in case calamity is just around the corner.”

  Sarah took a deep breath. “I think you are both overreacting. There is still time for me to find a suitor who I like. I am but twenty years old…”

  “Enough.” Her father’s voice was firm. “Ann, we have given her the chance to choose her own husband. She does not see the imperativeness of the decision.” He paused. “We shall have to proceed in the manner we discussed.”

  Her mother sighed. “Yes, husband. It seems that we must.”

  He turned to Sarah, fixing her with a penetrative gaze. “Your mother and I have fixed upon a husband for you, my girl. A fine gentleman who can support you and your mother in the style you are both accustomed.”

  Sarah gasped. “What? Who…who is this gentleman?”

  “James Marcus, the Earl of Tolmere,” continued her father, pushing away his plate. “Lord Tolmere is an upstanding gentleman of the district who is also endowed with a vast estate and fortune. He is also unmarried and in need of a wife at his age, I should say.”

  “James?” Sarah’s voice was incredulous. “Mary’s brother? But…that is preposterous! He has never considered me in that way, and he is so much older than Mary and me! Why, he must be three and thirty by now…”

  “Age has no relevance in the matter,” said her father crisply. “In fact, I would prefer an older gentleman who has sown his wild oats and is ready to settle down to a good Christian life with a virtuous wife.” He took a deep breath. “Lord Tolmere is superior in all ways. And you know and like him, Sarah. He is rather a confirmed bachelor, to be sure, but it must be on his own mind to settle down soon and produce an heir for the estate.”

  “Have you spoken to him of this proposal?” Sarah could not believe her ears.

  “Well, no.” His father’s lips were a grim line. “But I am certain he would be receptive to the idea. As I said, it is high time he took a wife.”

  “Think about it, Sarah,” said her mother, gazing at her earnestly. “It would be a felicitous situation for you. Lord Tolmere’s estate is very close to our own, and we would be able to see each other often. And you would have Mary as a sister-in-law and live with her until she makes her own marriage.”

  “But I do not love him!” Sarah’s heart was beating fast. “He is like an older brother to me. And I a younger sister to him. I cannot believe that he would be receptive to such an idea. I have never discerned that he admired me in such a way.”

  “Lord Tolmere keeps his cards very close to his chest in that way,” declared her father, frowning slightly. “I have never heard word of his admiring in any lady greatly. Nor has he ever declared for one. You both seem to have trouble finding partners. Some fellows are just shy with the fairer sex, I suppose.” He paused. “But I am sure I could persuade him that it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. A gentleman must marry eventually, after all.”

  “No.” Sarah stood up abruptly, gazing at her parents in horror. “No. I do not like this idea one jot!”

  “You have no choice in the matter, my girl,” said her father grimly. “Your mother and I gave you time to find a husband of your own choosing and you have wilfully flouted our directions. I shall give you one week to come to terms with the idea and then we shall start the process.”

  Sarah threw her napkin down on the table in fury, storming out of the dining room. She could not resist banging the door behind her.

  Angry tears filled her eyes as she ran up the staircase towards her chambers. She still could not believe that her parents were proposing such a ludicrous idea. James was a kind and funny man, to be sure, but he left her cold. He was so much older than her and there had never been even a hint of a spark between them in that way. She could not possibly become his wife.

  When she reached her bedchamber, she threw herself across the bed, pummelling the pillow in her rage. The tears that were threatening spilled over and for a full minute she luxuriated in them, sobbing piteously. It felt good to let out all the emotion.

  Eventually, she wiped them away, sitting up slowly. It was just a silly idea that had come to her parents out of desperation. They had not even discussed it with James yet. And if they did, she was certain he would laugh it off.

  Mary had told her that her brother did not want a wife at all. He was quite happy with his life exactly the way that it was. He stayed in London frequently and who knew what he got up to there. A confirmed bachelor, if ever there was one.

  All would be well, she thought, a bit desperately. But the plain fact was her parents were deadly serious about her finding a husband. And if she did not find one of her own choice soon then they would do it for her. If not James, then someone else. She shuddered at the very thought.

  If only the gentleman who masqueraded with me last evening was a contender. But he is a stranger and I have no idea of who he even is.

  She stared out of the window. Even though the situation was turning dire, she still did not want to marry anyone before she was ready. And she would probably never see the stranger in the mask again, anyway. She must forget about him entirely. It had only been a fleeting encounter. A game that was quickly over, ending before it had even really begun.

  Chapter 7

  Sarah took Mary’s arm as they stepped down from the carriage, sweeping towards the front entrance of the townhouse in a fashionable area of Bath. The house had belonged to the late Viscount Dudley, and his family still resided within it. They were attending a lady’s tea party which his daughter, Lady Rosamond, was hosting. It promised to be a distracting affair.

  “What a pretty pelisse, Mary,” said Sarah, admiring her friend’s new attire. “Such a lovely shade of pea green.”

  Mary smiled. “Thank you, Sarah. James took me to Miss Robertson’s dress shop just last week and ordered me practically a whole new wardrobe. He does spoil me.”

  “Indeed, he does,” said Sarah, thinking about James. “He is a good brother to you.” She paused. “Is he courting anyone seriously yet?” She held her breath as she waited for the reply.

  Mary looked amazed. “You are joking, of course. You know as well as I do that James does not entertain the idea of matrimony at all. Why, I have never even seen him so much as glance at a young lady.”

  Sarah nodded, satisfied. “Of course. I just thought that perhaps as he is getting older…?”

  Mary shook her head firmly. “He does not care for such things as keeping the line going, I think.” She frowned slightly. “It is a bit of a shame, to be sure. Our father, God rest his soul, would have liked the estate to be kept in the direct line. But James is James. He marches to the beat of his own drum.”

  They were at the door. It swung open, revealing a butler in full livery, who led them to the drawing room.

  They stood in the doorway for a moment, surveying the scene. Lady Rosamond was sitting on a chaise lounge in the middle of a rather large group of young ladies, who were all tittering and giggling as they sipped their tea. A cacophony of treats lay on the table in front of them, ranging from a high pile of macaroons to plates of cucumber sandwiches. On the floor, scattered haphazardly, were dozens of lady’s fashion magazines.

 
Lady Rosamond’s eyes lit up. “Ladies! Come and join the frivolity!”

  Sarah smiled, feeling herself relax for the first time in over a week since that fraught conversation about finding a husband with her parents. A playful lady’s high tea party. It was exactly what she needed.

  ***

  An hour later Sarah was sipping her tea, bored to distraction. The promised playful lady’s tea party had been curtailed by the sudden arrival of Lady Rosamond’s imposing mother, Lady Dudley, and her steely companion, Miss Smith, who had both swept into the room looking appalled at such wanton liveliness.

  The fashion magazines had been hastily put away, and now all the young ladies were sitting demurely on the various chairs and lounges in the drawing room, sipping their tea in a desultory manner. All talk of gowns and balls and dashing young gentlemen had ceased abruptly, replaced with dialogue about sermons and bible study.

  Sarah suppressed a sigh of pure boredom, catching Mary’s eye, who was seated across from her. It was going to be a long afternoon, indeed.

  Suddenly, the butler entered. “My Lady,” he said, addressing Lady Dudley. “There is a gentleman caller in the foyer.” He paused, looking a trifle confused.

  “Really?” harrumphed Lady Dudley. “Has he given his card?” She turned to her daughter. “Did you invite a gentleman to this party, Rosamond?”

  Lady Rosamond looked as confused as the butler. “No, Mama. I am sure I do not know who it is.”

  Lady Dudley rose to her feet, sweeping out of the room, to talk to the mysterious gentleman caller in the foyer. There was sudden deathly silence, as all the young ladies strained their ears to hear the gentleman’s voice. Who could it be, and why was he here?

  Eventually, Lady Dudley entered. Behind her, grinning sheepishly, was a boldly dressed man, in a dark green velvet coat and red britches, pushing back his raven black hair. The gentleman who had danced with Sarah at the Clifford ball. The man in the masquerade mask.

  There was a gasp of surprise. Sarah’s heart started to beat frantically.

  “I say,” said the gentleman, looking a bit askance. “I did not know that it was ladies only. Is there room for another, perchance?”

  ***

  “Sir, who are you and why are you here?” Lady Dudley’s voice was incredulous.

  The gentleman turned to the older lady, bowing in an ostentatious manner. “My Lady. Please do forgive the intrusion.” He straightened, his mouth twitching slightly. “I am Mr. Cassius Simpleton. I am a distant cousin of your late husband from Soho, in London.”

  Lady Dudley’s eyes widened. “A cousin, of my late husband? Why have I never heard of you, Sir?”

  The gentleman smiled slowly. “I am afraid we had not seen each other in an age, My Lady. Circumstances forced us apart.” A beat. “I am a trader in exotic animals. Mainly ostriches. Although sometimes I procure a monkey or two, for the local fairs.”

  Sarah couldn’t help it. She spluttered her tea. Everyone in the room turned to her, staring at her in confusion. The gentleman, who was standing just behind Lady Dudley, raised a finger to his mouth, entreating her to silence. His brown eyes were twinkling with mischief.

  “Tea?” asked Lady Dudley, looking utterly bewildered by the unexpected invasion of a gentleman into a lady’s tea party claiming to be a distant cousin of her late husband, as well as a trader in ostriches.

  The gentleman beamed. “Oh, thank you, My Lady. I must confess it has been such a long journey.” He paused, staring directly at Sarah. “But I cannot stay long. I have an ostrich tied to the back of my carriage, you see, and I daresay he is in need of a pasture before too long.”

  Sarah grabbed a cushion, pressing it into her face, laughing helplessly.

  ***

  After the initial shock of the gentleman claiming to be Mr. Simpleton died down, and talk haltingly resumed in the drawing room, the gentleman himself steered Sarah away from the group, turning to face her at the window.

  “You shall not give my cover away, will you?” he whispered, a slight smile playing on his lips. “I truly did not realise it was a lady’s tea party, you see. I just ferreted out the information that you were attending, that was all.”

  Sarah gazed up at him breathlessly. “Did you now? And why did you wish to see me so much that you would do such a thing, Mr. Simpleton?”

  His voice dropped an octave. “I had to see you. I must confess I have thought of nothing but you since we met at the Clifford ball.”

  Sarah smiled slowly. “And you are Mr. Simpleton of Soho, now? Trader in exotic animals? What, pray tell, has happened to the intrepid Lieutenant Desmond, the sailor who has battled pirates in the high seas?”

  The gentleman leant forward. “He is still here, Madam. Just tucked away for another time.” His eyes sparkled. “And what of the poor widow, whose late husband left her so suddenly and shockingly at the breakfast table?”

  “She is having a well-deserved rest,” said Sarah slowly, her heart beating fast. “Poor thing.”

  “And who do we have now?”

  Sarah thought quickly. “Why, it is Madame Marguerite Deschamps, sir. I have trod the boards of every grand opera house in France and Prussia, I will have you know.” She took a deep breath. “As well as gracing the halls of Covent Garden, once or twice.”

  “An opera singer, is it?” whispered the gentleman. “I have met quite a few of those over the years. So very talented and beautiful. It does not surprise me in the least that you are a member of their ranks, Madame Deschamps.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Simpleton.” Sarah inclined her head graciously. “I have trained since girlhood. All claim I have the voice of an angel.”

  He reached out, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “I must confess it excites me tremendously to think of you in your operetta attire and wig, singing an aria just for me.”

  Sarah’s mouth twitched. “Maybe one day if you are very lucky, Sir.”

  “I look forward immensely to that day, Madame Deschamps,” he said slowly, his lips lingering on her hand. “More than I can express.”

  “Tea, Mr. Simpleton?” Lady Rosamond was at their side, holding out a cup. “Mama insisted I serve you refreshment.”

  “Why, thank you, My Lady,” he said, taking the proffered cup, and sipping it.

  “Are you truly a trader in exotic animals?” asked Rosamond, staring at him as if he had three heads. “You must travel quite a lot.”

  “Oh, to the far corners of the world, My Lady,” he said slowly. “I have visited the Far East, where the men are as tall as giants, and the women all walk with a limp. They tie their legs together to shorten their stride, you know.”

  “No,” said Rosamond, her eyes almost bulging out of her head. “I have never heard of such a thing!”

  “Alas, it is true,” he said, sighing heavily. “There is talk of introducing the practice to England, you know. Parliament is sitting at this very moment discussing the pros and cons of it.”

  Sarah snorted. Rosamond’s eyes bulged wider. Uncertainly, she drifted away.

  “That was cruel,” whispered Sarah, gazing at him. “She has believed you. Now she shall repeat it to everyone, and they will all think her a fool.”

  “My name is Simpleton, Madam,” he said, his mouth twitching. “I act according to my name.” His face softened as he kept gazing at her. “Perhaps you will find a moment to educate the young lady properly on how things are in the Far East.”

  “Maybe,” smiled Sarah, sipping her tea.