But eventually, he did, breaking away from her gently. He gazed down at her with sad eyes.
“Fare thee well, Lady Sarah Rubyton,” he said slowly. “Fare thee well.”
He turned on his heel, marching back down the garden path, towards the house. Sarah gazed after him sorrowfully. Her blood was still pounding with desire and she was shaking in the aftermath of it.
She knew she had done the right thing. She had done the only thing that she could. And he had realised that as well. Even if he had been willing to challenge James for her hand, there was still the matter of the old scandal that was constantly rearing its ugly head.
There was simply no place for them to be together in this world.
But that didn’t mean that it still didn’t hurt. It hurt terribly.
Tears ran slowly down her face. For a moment she let them fall, almost luxuriating in them, before she hastily wiped them away. She must get back to the ball. James would be looking for her by now and she could not afford to cause another scandal, could she?
***
That night after they finally got home from the Parkdale ball, Arthur said a curt goodnight to Captain Morgan, heading towards the library. He didn’t desire company any longer, not even that of one of his closest friends. All he wanted to do was find a quiet nook, with one of the finest bottles of his father’s brandy, and shut the world away entirely.
Luckily his father was already abed as well. The large house was as silent as the grave as he tiptoed through the hallways. In his father’s study he procured the bottle of brandy, a glass and a candle. When he at last entered the library the grandfather clock in the main hallway had just struck one o’clock in the morning.
Gloomily he sat down, pouring himself a large measure of brandy. The liquid burnt his mouth as he slammed it down his throat. Immediately he poured himself another, settling back into the large upholstered armchair in a far corner of the large room.
He swirled the amber liquid around in the glass as he contemplated the evening. He had been half hoping, half dreading seeing Lady Sarah at the ball. And when he had spied her across that ballroom his heart had somersaulted over in his chest, nearly hitting the ground.
She truly was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.
When he had held her in his arms for the last time in that garden, something strange had happened to him, something that he had never experienced before in his life. Quite simply, he had not wanted to let her go. Not then, and not ever. It had suddenly settled on him with a grave certainty that she was the only woman that he wished to hold in his arms ever again.
Was this love?
Frowning, he sipped his brandy, staring around the library. He just didn’t know – he had never been in love before. He had felt strong desire for women, he had been wildly infatuated, but he had never felt that he could not bear to live without a particular one.
But that was how he felt now.
He cursed aloud. Why must this have happened now, with this particular woman? A woman who was most definitely out of bounds to him. His father and her parents were mortal enemies. There was simply no way that a marriage between them would be sanctioned by either party. She also had another suitor who was protecting her like a wolf would protect one of its cubs – a suitor who would probably run him through with a sword if Arthur kept pursuing her. He must let her go. It was the sensible and honourable and decent thing to do.
But how could he do it?
Suddenly, he jumped in fright as the library door creaked open. Who on earth had entered the room at this time of the night? And why?
He held his breath as footsteps entered the room. Whoever it was they were looking for him. There was simply no other reason why someone would be in here at this hour. He must not have been as quiet as he’d hoped.
Sighing, he stood up. To his utter shock, it was his father, dressed in his white nightshirt and cap, holding a candle aloft.
“Father?” he whispered. “What are you doing here?”
The older man smiled. “I heard you walking outside my chambers, Arthur. I knew you were heading towards the library. It was the only destination at this time of the night along that particular hallway.”
Arthur frowned. “I am sorry I have disturbed you. I shall go to my own chambers directly…”
The Earl of Halwell’s face twisted in the candlelight. “That is not why I am here, my boy.” He took a deep breath. “I have noticed lately that you seem not yourself. You are very distracted. Restless. I could be wrong entirely, but do I divine that a woman is responsible for your current state?”
“Yes,” replied Arthur cautiously. “I met a rather beautiful local lady, who has overtaken my mind…”
His father’s face broke out into a wide smile. “But this is wonderful! Why do you look so morose, Arthur? If she is suitable then you should bring her to meet me…”
“No.” Arthur’s voice was shaper than he intended. “It is not that serious, Father. And besides – she is not at all suitable as a potential bride.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “I should not have mentioned her at all to you. I was not intending to.”
The Earl of Halwell was silent for a moment, frowning. Then he fixed Arthur with a hard stare.
“I can see you are in love, my boy,” he said slowly, “and love can turn a man inside out, especially if the object of your affections is not suitable or available.” A shadow passed over his face. “Yes, it is better to harden your heart and move on completely. Believe me, I know.”
There was an awkward silence as they gazed at one another. It was the first time that the Earl had even hinted at the scandal with Lady Sarah’s mother. But Arthur could not even commiserate with his father and tell him he knew what he was referring to. He wasn’t supposed to know at all.
It is all a mess, he thought despairingly. Father had to give up a woman that he loved. I must do the same. And we cannot even talk to each other honestly about it.
“We should retire,” said Arthur, in a strangled voice. “It is very late, and I have disturbed your slumber. And I need my own rest.”
A shadow of hurt passed over his father’s face. But just as quickly he masked it. Arthur knew that the older man was disappointed that his son would not confide in him about this mysterious woman that he had fallen in love with. But how could he?
It was all a tangled mess. And there seemed to be no way out of it.
Chapter 17
Sarah yawned listlessly, staring down into her porridge. She had barely been able to sleep last night after returning from the Parkdale ball. Her mind was awhirl, so confused that she could not make head nor tail of anything anymore.
James had been tight-lipped when she had breathlessly made her way back into the ballroom, after farewelling the Viscount. He had not questioned her about where she had suddenly vanished to, nor why, and she had not offered any explanation. But she could tell by the disappointed look in his eyes that he suspected.
“I was heartened to see James by your side for the entire evening, Sarah,” said her father, his voice booming down the table, as he picked up the saltshaker to season his kipper. “It seems that our talk has finally sunken in, young lady.”
Sarah dropped her spoon with a clatter. Her parents stared at her.
“Do you have something to say, Sarah?” asked her mother, frowning. “I should spit it out, if I were you, for fear it shall choke you.”
Sarah’s lips tightened. She didn’t want to do this; she was heartily tired of fighting with her parents. She had resolved to become the dutiful daughter they desired. She had resolved to do the right thing by them. Why did she still find it so very hard?
“A May wedding is always nice,” continued her mother, eyeing her carefully. “The weather is always very temperate at that time of year. I am sure that James would be agreeable to it. What do you think, Sarah?”
Sarah’s hands balled into fists on her lap. She and James had not even informed her parents that she had agreed t
o marry him, and already her mother was starting to plan the wedding. It was simply intolerable.
“I have not given my consent to marrying the Earl of Tolmere,” she lied, in a crisp voice. “James has discussed it with me, and I am considering it, but that is all. I would not be ordering the wedding muslin and baking the cake quite yet, Mama.”
“You are a contrary girl,” muttered her mother, staring at her darkly. “Why can you not just say yes to the man and be done with it? You have no other offers and he is an excellent candidate. You know what must happen and yet still you dilly-dally.”
Sarah exhaled out of her nose, feeling rather like a bull in a ring. “I am contrary, am I? Why is it always about me not doing what I am told? Why cannot you both consider my feelings about the matter?”
“Sarah,” warned her father.
Lady Pembleton threw her napkin down on the table. A vein was twitching in her right temple. She glared at her daughter.
“You are a selfish, wicked girl,” she cried. “Your dear Papa and I have explained this to you! It is not just your future at stake but mine as well!” Her chest heaved. “Do you truly wish to see your own mother destitute on the street, begging for coin?”
“Oh, Mama, stop,” said Sarah, glaring back at her mother. “You are being ludicrous now. There is no danger of you ever being destitute.” Her eyes narrowed. “This is pure emotional blackmail and it does not become you at all.”
“Why cannot you just marry him?” cried Lady Pembleton. “He is a good, honourable gentleman who shall always look after you. You shall want for nothing. So many young ladies would give their eye teeth to marry a gentleman such as the Earl of Tolmere, and yet you still dither like a little fool.”
Sarah flinched. She was so angry she could barely speak.
“You insult me, Mama,” she said at last, her eyes glittering. “I am no fool. Merely a woman who has a mind of her own and is not bashful about speaking it. Some parents might even be proud of such a daughter.”
Lady Pembleton’s face darkened. “I want to be proud of you, Sarah. I truly do. You are a lovely, accomplished young lady who any mother should be delighted with.” She paused. “But what is the use of all those accomplishments, that beauty and your clever mind, if you do not secure a good match? That is the only goal for a young lady. The only way that your beauty and your talents can be fully appreciated.”
“I am not saying that I do not wish to ever marry,” cried Sarah. “I am saying that I only wish to make my own choice on the matter.”
“You have a perfectly good candidate right in front of you, my girl,” shot back her father, frowning. “There is no need to wait for any other. You must make hay while the sun shines, Sarah.”
Sarah’s chest heaved. She was terribly upset; she detested fighting with her parents like this, but she also could not let them railroad her. She knew that she was being stubborn and contrary. But she just could not help herself anymore.
“I have met a gentleman who I like,” she declared, her heart thumping in her chest.
There was an ominous silence at the table, broken only by the sound of the maid entering the room with a fresh pot of tea. Sarah stared at the wall. What had possessed her to say that? If it had been tense before, it would be even worse now.
“And who is this gentleman, pray tell?” asked her mother, fixing her with a sharp glance.
Sarah took a deep breath. “The Viscount Nordarken,” she said, in as steady a voice as she could muster. “I declare that I find him the most fascinating of all the gentlemen in my acquaintance.”
There was a deathly silence again. Sarah held her breath, not daring to look at either of them. The cat was most definitely out of the bag. How would they react?
She knew that they were aware of Lord Nordarken. James had told her so. But they had never spoken his name in her presence, nor had they ever referred to the old scandal involving his father and her mother, even obliquely. This was the very first time that the viscount had ever been mentioned between them.
She slid her eyes sideways, contemplating her mother. Lady Pembleton’s face was chalk white, as were the knuckles of her right hand where she was clutching her teacup. Her mother was in the grip of a very strong emotion indeed. Sarah almost felt sorry that she had ever mentioned it.
But then she straightened, exhaling slowly. She was only telling the truth. It might be painful for her mother – it might bring up the past for her that she wished to forget – but it could not be avoided.
“We are aware that Lord Nordarken has been circulating in the district,” said her father slowly, glancing uneasily at her mother. “But what I have said still stands, Sarah. You may find him fascinating, but the fact remains he has not approached me to ask for your hand in matrimony.” He paused. “The only gentleman who has is Lord Tolmere. So I am afraid we are back to square one, my girl.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with frustrated tears. Her father had taken a different tactic to what she had expected. He had not even acknowledged who Lord Nordarken was, nor the old scandal. He had ignored it entirely. Instead he had concentrated on the fact that the Viscount was not a serious suitor and probably never would be.
Her face burnt with humiliation. For what her father said was true. Last night when the Viscount had farewelled her, kissing her so passionately and telling her how beautiful she was, he had never once mentioned that he wished to declare for her. That he was so enamoured he must make her his wife and would challenge James for her hand.
She should never have mentioned him. Not at all.
But then she took a deep breath. She had resolved to speak the truth to them, no matter how humiliating or painful it may be. And she might never have this opportunity again.
“My heart has chosen,” she declared, her voice breaking slightly. “You told me that I may make a choice and he is the one. He is the only gentleman I can truly consider.”
“I repeat,” said her father, flushing with anger. “The gentleman has not declared for your hand and so must not be considered in the race, so to speak.” His lips tightened. “That is all I have to say on the matter.”
“It is not all I have to say on it,” cried Sarah. “He has not declared for my hand because we have not had a chance to slowly court. And he is as aware as I am of the old scandal between his father and Mama…”
Had she gone too far, in mentioning it? Her mother looked stricken, her father thunderous. Suddenly, her mother stood up, throwing her napkin onto the table and marching out of the room. Her back was ramrod straight and she didn’t utter a word.
“Now look what you have done,” remonstrated her father, fixing her with a malevolent stare. “You have gravely upset your mother. Why did you ever mention such a thing?”
Sarah paled, “I am sorry, Papa.”
“You shall be,” hissed her father. “Now, let me reiterate. Lord Nordarken has not declared for your hand. And from what Lord Tolmere tells me about your dalliance with the man, he never will. He is a rake through and through, just the same as his father. The apple obviously does not fall far from that tree.”
Sarah blushed painfully. She simply did not know what to say.
“We have not brought it up with you because we wanted to give you a chance to do the right thing,” he continued. “We wanted you to show us you were finally listening and agree to marry Lord Tolmere. But this morning’s display shows that you are still as stubborn and wilful as you have ever been. And the fact that you brought up the painful past to your mother shows that you are insensitive as well.”
Sarah blinked back tears.
“Go to your chambers, Sarah,” said her father wearily, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “I do not wish to talk to you any further.”
Courting A Sinful Stranger: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 12
