Courting A Sinful Stranger: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  Sarah stood up abruptly, making the chair scrape sharply on the floor. Without another word she fled the room, trying desperately to keep the tears from falling.

  Once in her chambers she threw herself on the bed, pummelling the pillow in frustration. It seemed no matter what she did it was the wrong thing. She simply could not seem to make anyone happy. Not James, not her parents…and not even Lord Nordarken.

  Why had she ever believed that she must speak the truth?

  The tears slowly slid down her face. It was all useless. She had tried one last time, but it had always been a long shot. She must marry James and she must do it soon before she ruined her relationship with her parents entirely. She knew that she was skating on very thin ice with them. They would not forgive her many more trespasses against them.

  She sobbed into her hands, feeling guilty and forlorn. Seeing her mother’s reaction today at even the slightest mention of the old scandal was confronting. It had made it real for Sarah, in a way that it never had been before. Her mother had been extremely hurt in the past and talking about it was painful for her.

  She sat up, pushing back her dishevelled hair. She must apologise to her. And then it seemed she must do her duty. She would call at the Marcus’s and tell James that they could, at last, declare that they were going to marry to the world.

  Chapter 18

  Arthur walked down the hallway towards his father’s study. It felt like his feet were dragging, and he could feel his heart racing in his chest. Twice he stopped and almost turned around, losing his nerve. But then he took a deep breath and carried on.

  He hadn’t intended doing this. But this morning at breakfast he had confessed to the captain about his encounter with Lady Sarah at the ball last night and also his father’s peculiar visit to the library to speak with him. The captain had been silent for a moment, absorbing the information, before turning to him thoughtfully.

  “Nordarken,” he said eventually, putting down his teacup, “I may have changed my mind on this matter now.”

  “What do you mean?” Arthur looked at him sharply.

  The captain sighed. “I mean, my friend, that you are obviously rather more serious about this lady than I discerned,” he continued slowly. “If even your father has noticed the change in you then it is a miraculous change, indeed.” He paused. “I think you should just lay your cards upon the table, Nordarken, and tell him the truth.”

  “About everything?” Arthur could not believe his friend was saying this to him.

  The captain nodded. “Yes. About everything. About the fact you have fallen head over heels in love with Lady Sarah Rubyton and wish to openly court her. And tell him that you are aware of the scandal involving him and the lady’s mother and how it constrains you in that pursuit.”

  Arthur gazed at him doubtfully. “I’m not sure, Morgan. I might offend Father mightily by even bringing it up. He has no idea that I am aware of it.” He paused. “And for what purpose, anyway? I still cannot court Lady Sarah. I swear her parents would throw me out of the door entirely.”

  The captain stared at him. “Just speak to your father, Nordarken. It is a start, at least. You never know where it might lead, and it cannot be worse than it is now, can it?”

  Arthur had nodded miserably. He had barely been able to sleep the previous night. The vision of Sarah, in his arms in the garden, had haunted his dreams.

  He simply couldn’t get her out of his mind. It was as if he was inflicted by a fever.

  And so he had agreed to approach his father and talk about it. But now, as he raised his fist to knock on the study door, he hesitated again. It was a pointless enterprise which would only hurt his father. There was nothing to gain from it at all.

  He had just resolved to walk away entirely and put the whole thing out of his mind when the door suddenly opened. His father was standing there, gazing at him steadily.

  “I thought that I heard a noise out here,” he said slowly, “and I have been waiting for you to finally come and talk to me.” A pause. “Come in, my son.”

  ***

  Arthur gazed around his father’s study. It was filled to overflowing with books and mementoes of his father’s passion for travel and hunting. On an armoire in the corner sat an elephant’s tusk and above it a stuffed head of a moose, glaring balefully into the room. He had indulged in both hobbies a lot in the years since Arthur’s mother had died.

  Arthur turned to his father, feeling a spike of sympathy. He was lonely without her. That was why he had bought this house on the outskirts of Bath; it wasn’t just to soothe his rheumatism. He wanted to escape the memories of their life together in London.

  “Sit down, Arthur,” said his father, returning to his own seat.

  Arthur did as his father commanded.

  “A spot of rum?” His father was smiling. “Or shall I call for tea?”

  “Neither,” said Arthur, taking a deep breath. “I need to talk with you, Father. I probably should have approached you before this, but I lacked courage, I guess.”

  His father didn’t say anything, for a moment. He simply gazed at Arthur with his brown eyes, so similar to his own. It was like staring into a mirror.

  “It has been hard for me since your mother passed away,” said his father, leaning back in his chair. The brown eyes had grown misty. “There is not a day that goes by where I do not think of her, Arthur. We had a good life together and we loved each other very much.”

  “I know,” said Arthur, feeling his throat thicken with emotion. “I know how much you loved each other.” He paused. “I miss her too, Father. It is not the same without her.”

  “No, it is not,” said the earl, shaking his head sadly. “But life does go on - for both of us.” He stared at his son. “Tell me what is in your heart, Arthur. As I said, I have been waiting for you to come to me.”

  “I should have told you last night when you approached me in the library,” continued Arthur, “but you took me by surprise and I simply did not know how to handle the situation.”

  “This is about the young lady who you think not suitable, of course.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Arthur frowned. “It is a rather more complex matter than I have intimated, Father.” He took a deep breath. “The lady is not unsuitable because she is lacking in any way. Indeed, she is blessed with beauty, cleverness and good name. Her family are quite wealthy, too.”

  Lord Halwell frowned. “But if she is all of this, why do you deem her unsuitable for possible matrimony? I do not understand.”

  Arthur took another deep breath. This was the moment, when he must tell his father who the woman he had fallen in love with was. And he simply had no idea how the older man was going to react at all.

  Would he get angry? Sad? Would he swear and walk out of the room refusing to talk about the past, or would he brace himself and do it for his son’s sake? Impossible to tell.

  So he just had to take the plunge and do it.

  “She is unsuitable because of her associations,” said Arthur slowly, staring at his father. “She is the daughter of someone who is your mortal enemy.”

  His father looked astonished. Arthur could almost see the progression of his thoughts, jumping from one thing to another, before finally settling onto the right thing. He looked troubled.

  “I assume you are talking about the Rubytons,” he said, leaning forward to stare at Arthur solemnly. “Because I do not have many enemies in this world, Arthur. And I know that they still live in this district.”

  Arthur nodded. “Yes. The lady is Lady Sarah Rubyton, their only daughter.”

  The earl was silent, absorbing this. “And you truly believe you love her?”

  Arthur nodded. “Yes,” he whispered. “I thought it a mere dalliance at first, but it has grown. I cannot stop thinking about her. She haunts my dreams and I wish nothing more than to always be with her…”

  Lord Halwell smiled grimly. “That is love, my boy. I have experienced its blinding effects t
wo times in my life, and I shall never forget either experience.”

  Arthur stared steadily at his father. “Tell me,” he said, “I know about the scandal involving you and Lady Pembleton but in no great detail.” He paused. “What happened? Why have you never told me about it?”

  Lord Halwell shrugged wistfully. “What is there to say? I did not tell you because I wished the past to remain just that, Arthur. I wished for it to be gone. Speaking about it with my son seemed like dragging up mud settled at the bottom of a lake.” He paused. “But the past always has a way of making itself known in the end.”

  Arthur’s heart started to thump uncomfortably. He could hear the pain in his father’s voice and suddenly wished he could spare him this.

  “She was dazzling,” continued his father, his eyes moist. “Lady Ann Marbec. I first encountered her at a ball in Bath when I was visiting friends in this district.” He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “It seemed as if I was beholding a vision of an angel from heaven. Hair the colour of honey and brown eyes like velvet.”

  Arthur stirred in his seat. His father could have been describing Sarah. The mother and daughter obviously had the same colouring.

  “We fell violently in love,” said his father, smiling slightly. “I would wait for her at social engagements. Leave love tokens at her door. But what I did not realise was that her father despised mine, and would never entertain me as a suitor because of it.” He paused. “They had rowed in their university days, apparently, and never resolved it. It spilled over to me and Ann. Her father discovered me talking to her one night and dragged her away by the ear, swearing at me that I should never speak to his daughter again.”

  Lord Halwell sighed deeply, looking pained. Arthur’s heart bled for him.

  “But I could not let her go,” he whispered, in a low voice. “I was like a man possessed. I would wait for her outside church, at the bottom of the lane to her house…anywhere where I might see her. At first she encouraged me, but then she grew afraid. She said that I was risking her reputation and that I must desist immediately.”

  Arthur nodded. “What happened then?”

  “I did not listen to her,” replied his father slowly. “I am utterly ashamed of myself now, but I was so desperately in love. I thought that she was only saying it because of her father, and I could convince her to love me again.” He paused. “One night, I broke into the house, trying to get to her room…”

  “Father!” Arthur was shocked.

  “It was madness,” agreed the earl. “A maid discovered me and raised the alarm. Ann’s father came in and challenged me to a duel at dawn the following day. He told me that his daughter had a suitable suitor who she was going to marry – the Earl of Pembleton – and that he was determined I would not spoil her chance.”

  “What happened at the duel?”

  “It never occurred, thank the Lord,” said Lord Halwell grimly. “I came to my senses at the last minute and did not attend. I sent my apologies and fled the district with my tail between my legs.” He took a deep breath, “Three months later I met your mother and it was as if it all never happened. I fell deeply in love and never looked back.”

  “A sorry tale,” said Arthur, shaking his head, “I understand why you never speak of it. The rashness of youth knows no bounds.”

  “I was rash, and foolish,” said the earl, tightening his lips. “But I was very young, Arthur. I convinced myself that I could not live without the lady and stubbornly refused to listen to reason.” He paused. “I do not want my actions in the past to affect you now, my son. If you truly love this lady then we must do everything we can to secure her.”

  Arthur looked at his father in utter amazement. “What? You are saying you shall help me win her? But how?”

  “Leave me to ponder that,” said his father, smiling wryly. “But I tell you now, Arthur, that we shall not give up. Who dares, wins, my boy.”

  Arthur felt a glimmer of hope for the very first time. It was faint and it was only fluttering but it was there.

  It had only started as a game, but it was so much more than that now. So very much was at stake. Could it be possible that with his father’s help he could make Sarah his own forever?

  Chapter 19

  Sarah trailed her fingers listlessly over the keys on the pianoforte. A discordant sound emerged. She sighed heavily, gazing out of the drawing room window.

  She had enjoyed playing the pianoforte once. She had also enjoyed playing the harp and the harpsichord; she had a talent for music since girlhood and could lose herself for hours in her practice. But it seemed that her capacity to become absorbed had sorely deserted her these days. She just could not concentrate at all, since that awful showdown in the dining room at breakfast last week.

  She sighed again. Things had not improved between herself and her parents. It was as icy as a frigid December in the house. Her mother refused to talk to her except in clipped monosyllables, even though Sarah had apologised to her. Her father scowled at her all the time. It was most unpleasant.

  But still, she could not bring herself to visit the Marcus’s and bring the impasse to a stop.

  Every day, when she awoke, she resolved to do it. This would be the day she would tell James that they could finally announce their engagement to the world. But every day she found an excuse as to why she could not visit. The day was too wet, or too warm. A hundred other reasons.

  She knew she was a coward, through and through.

  Desperately, she bit her thumbnail. The stalemate in the house had to end. She must do her duty and marry the Earl of Tolmere. Once more, she listed all the good reasons she should in her head: his honour, his decency, his position, his wealth…really, it just went on and on. There was no earthly reason for her recalcitrance on the subject. And the fact that it would end this awful tension between herself and her parents was just the icing on the cake, really.

  And still, she could not do it.

  Determinedly she turned back to the pianoforte, raising her fingers in the air over the keys, before plunging them down. As she practised her scales, warming up, her mind fixed on James. Why was he so determined to marry her when he knew how reluctant she was?

  James was an odd fish, she thought, as her fingers swept over the keys. A gentleman who had never once expressed any interest in a lady. He had always seemed to greatly enjoy his bachelorhood. Mary had said that he was more interested in entertaining his male friends from Oxford and who he had met on the circuit in London than courting any lady…

  Suddenly, Sarah froze, her hands suspended mid-air above the keys. The music ceased abruptly. An idea was slowly forming in her mind about James’s reluctance to court ladies. Could her suspicions be true?

  At that moment, the drawing room door opened. Her mother stood there, gazing at her impassively.

  Sarah’s heart lurched with sorrow. She detested being on bad terms with Mama, and she knew that she had hurt her at breakfast the other day in mentioning the old scandal.

  She stared at her mother objectively for a moment. Lady Pembleton was only in early middle age and still held the vestiges of her youth. Her golden brown hair held only a spattering of grey and her skin was still peach like, with only a few lines. Her eyes were truly lovely, a sparkling brown, as warm as caramel. For the first time, it struck Sarah that her mother must have been very beautiful when she was young.

  Her eyes filled with tears. She had never thought of what her mother would have been like at her own age, had never pictured her as a person in her own right at all. She was simply Mama, who existed in relation to her family. What pain had that beautiful young lady who had been her mother gone through?