Courting A Sinful Stranger: A Historical Regency Romance Book
Page 14
“Sarah,” Her mother’s voice was clipped, “I see you are practicing again.”
“Yes,” said Sarah, standing up and facing her mother. “It passes the time, at least.” There was an awkward pause.
“Well, I shall not disturb you,” said her mother quickly, turning to leave.
“Wait,” said Sarah, holding out a hand. “Could we sit down and talk for a moment?”
Her mother looked surprised and a little wary. But then she sighed and nodded. They sat down on the velvet armchairs near the hearth, facing each other.
“I wanted to apologise again,” said Sarah hesitantly. “I know that I upset you in speaking about your past out of turn.”
Lady Pembleton nodded. “You spoke of things which you know nothing about and should not comment upon.”
Sarah took a deep breath. “Could you tell me what happened? I truly want to understand why I can never contemplate Lord Nordarken as a suitor.”
Lady Pembleton looked surprised. She stared into the fireplace for a moment, deep in thought. But then she looked back up at Sarah.
“Very well,” she said slowly. “I shall speak of it only once with you, just so you can know why your father and I have such misgivings about the gentleman and take us seriously.” She took a deep breath. “I met Charles Colton, the present Earl of Halwell, when I was very young. Probably not much older than you are now, Sarah.”
Sarah nodded encouragingly.
“He swept me off my feet,” continued her mother, her eyes misty with tears. “He was simply the most dashing and handsome gentleman I had ever encountered. We would always talk and dance at balls and gatherings. We developed an…affection.” Her voice caught in her throat for a second.
“But when my own father discerned that affection,” she continued, “he stopped our association at once. I had not realised, you see, that my father and Charles’s father were enemies – they had fallen out at university. I still do not know the full story of the source of their enmity but suffice to say it still burnt deeply enough that my father would never entertain Charles as a suitor for me.”
“That is so very sad,” said Sarah, picturing her mother young and heartbroken. “What happened next?”
Lady Pembleton sighed deeply. “Charles refused to accept it. Everywhere I went, he was there. At first I was flattered, but then people started to whisper about it, saying that we were lovers. My reputation was at stake.” She took a deep breath. “I told him he must leave me alone, that I had accepted my father’s decision on the matter, and it was at an end. But he would not listen to me, begging me to reconsider.”
Lady Pembleton dabbed at her eyes with a lacy white handkerchief before continuing.
“One day, he broke into the house, searching for me,” she whispered. “He was tormented and wild-eyed. I was appalled. My father was incensed beyond measure, shouting and cursing at him. He challenged him to a duel at dawn the next day.” She paused. “My father had already accepted an offer on my behalf from your own father. He needed to deal with Charles Colton once and for all.”
“A duel? What happened?”
Lady Pembleton sighed deeply. “The challenge must have knocked some sense into Charles’s head at last,” she replied. “He never arrived for it and I never heard from him again. Three months later I married your father, Sarah, and tried very hard to put it all behind me. Which I have…until now.” Her voice trailed away.
A weight of emotion hung in the air. Sarah felt ashamed of herself. She hadn’t realised what her mother had suffered. But then, how could she? Lady Pembleton had never spoken about it with her. And probably never would have if Lord Nordarken had not arrived in the district.
“I am so very sorry for your pain, Mama,” said Sarah, in a quiet voice. “It was thoughtless of me to bring it up so flippantly the other day.”
Lady Pembleton smiled wistfully. “Perhaps it is for the best that we have spoken of it. Now that you know the full story you can finally understand why we cannot entertain Charles’s son as a suitor for you, Sarah. There is too much bad feeling. Your father cannot even stand to hear the gentleman’s name mentioned.”
Sarah nodded, as pain pierced her heart again.
“James has told us enough about your dalliance with Lord Nordarken to show us he is cut from the same cloth as his father,” continued her mother tartly. “A gentleman with no sense of a lady’s boundaries, who insists on pushing his case. We know very well what that gentleman was after with you, Sarah, and it wasn’t holy matrimony.”
Sarah blushed painfully. She had never spoken of such things with her mother before and it was so very awkward. She had been lectured about preserving her virtue for her husband since she was young, but it had all been very vague.
She gazed out of the window. It was all true. Lord Nordarken, for all his charm and honeyed words had never stated that he wished to court her properly, not even when they had been farewelling each other in the Parkdale garden. He had expressed remorse that their game was at an end but that was all.
It seemed her mother was right. The viscount was a rake. He probably played these ‘games’ with young ladies all over the country. Lady Sarah Rubyton was doubtless just another in a long line of them. She wasn’t special to him at all.
She must let him go, once and for all.
She was just about to tell her mother that she was finally willing to comply, when they were both distracted by the sound of a carriage pulling up at the front door.
“That is strange,” said Lady Pembleton, standing up and walking to the window. “We are not expecting any visitors. I wonder who it could be?”
Sarah stood up, following her mother to the window, peering out at the carriage below. It was a very elaborate landau, with a smartly dressed driver at the helm. A middle aged gentleman stepped out of the carriage, gazing up at the house.
Lady Pembleton gasped, hastily dropping the lace curtain. She looked stricken.
“Mama,” said Sarah, her eyes widening. “What is it? Who is that gentleman?”
Her mother’s face was pale, and her eyes looked slightly wild. “I cannot believe it,” she whispered, shaking her head. “After all that has happened…after we were just speaking of it…”
“What?” Sarah put her hand on her mother’s arm entreatingly. “Tell me.”
Lady Pembleton gazed at her daughter, not speaking for a moment. She looked simply incapable of it. Her face was still as pale as chalk.
“It is Charles Colton,” she whispered. “The Earl of Halwell. Why is he here after all this time?” She took a deep, ragged breath, staring at Sarah with appalled eyes. “Your father will not be happy about this, Sarah. In fact, I tremble for what is about to happen.”
Sarah stared at her mother. She didn’t know what to say at all.
Suddenly her mother staggered, letting out a cry of distress. Sarah lurched, grabbing her before she fell to the ground. Very gently she led her back to the armchair, guiding her to sit down. Lady Pembleton seemed barely conscious of her surroundings.
A knock resounded at the front door, loud and imposing.
Sarah gazed fearfully down at her mother. The Earl of Halwell was at the door seeking entry. After all these years. A shiver of foreboding fell down her spine. No good could come of this. No good at all.
Had she unleashed this calamity with her careless actions? Desperately, she prayed that it was not so. She would take all of it back to keep her family safe; marry anyone that they commanded her to.
Please, Lord, she entreated, staring down at her stricken mother. Please, let all be well, and I shall do my duty at long last.
Chapter 20
Afterwards, Sarah could not quite remember the sequence of events. Only that it all happened very quickly.
The butler eventually answered the front door and the Earl of Halwell gained entry. She heard a deep voice requesting an audience with her father. And then there was the pounding of feet on the staircase, before she heard her father’s shoc
ked voice, demanding to know what the gentleman was doing in his house.
“There might yet be a duel,” muttered her mother, still looking rather wild-eyed. “It would not surprise me to hear your father demand it.”
The two men spoke in raised voices, but it was muffled. Sarah could not quite make out what they were saying. At least no one was crying out in agony over being stabbed or shot yet. That was promising.
“Oh dear,” whispered her mother, swaying slightly, “I feel quite faint. I fear I must lie down before I swoon entirely. Sarah, can you help me to my chambers?”
By the time she got her mother to her rooms, lying her down on the bed and closing the blinds the raised voices had retreated. She sent for her mother’s maid, telling the woman to tend to Lady Pembleton before slipping out of the room. Her mother was being well cared for and she just had to know what was going on.
The house was silent as a church when she walked down the staircase with her heart in her mouth. There didn’t seem to be a soul anywhere. She went to the kitchen, waylaying the butler.
“Foster, where are my father and the visitor?” she whispered.
“In His Lordship’s study, My Lady,” replied the butler solemnly.
Sarah nodded. Her heart was racing uncomfortably in her chest as she made her way back to the front of the house, walking swiftly to her father’s study. She didn’t know what she was intending to do there. She just knew that she had to ascertain what was going on. If her father was lying on the floor of his study bleeding to death from a wound Lord Halwell had inflicted, perhaps.
But there did not seem to be any wild mayhem afoot in the study. The door was firmly closed, and she could hear voices talking within. They were no longer raised in anger. She put her ear against the door listening intently.
“You have a damnable cheek, Halwell,” said her father. “How dare you come to my door uninvited after all that has happened?” A pause. “You had better get on with this desperate business of yours. I shall only give you ten minutes of my time.”
There was a momentary silence before the gentleman answered.
“I would never have bothered your peace if there was not good reason,” said the earl slowly. “I have desired to let sleeping dogs lie between us as well, Pembleton. I am not spoiling for a fight.”
“Go on, then,” growled her father. “The clock is ticking. I have my eye on my fob watch as we speak.”
Lord Halwell sighed. “It is about this business between our children, Pembleton,” he said. “I was not aware of it until my son spoke to me.” He paused. “He greatly admires your daughter. So much so that he wishes to formally court her with a view towards betrothal.”
Sarah gasped inwardly. If her heart had been racing before, it was speeding like a racehorse that had bolted now.
He wishes to court me, she thought in amazed wonder. He wishes us to become betrothed!
She was so shocked and dazed by Lord Halwell’s announcement that she almost gave herself away by gasping again, this time quite loudly. She clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. She must gain control of herself and not let them know she was here, eavesdropping at the door. It was so very important that she hear what they said. She could think about all of it later in the privacy of her chambers.
“You are surely joking,” said her father in an abrupt voice. “You dare to come here and request that your son court my daughter…?”
“Pembleton, please hear me out,” intercepted Lord Halwell. “I know that you are prejudiced against my son because of what has gone before.” He took a deep breath. “But all of that was so long ago. A lifetime ago. We should not let the past affect the present.”
“You have a nerve,” shot back her father. “You almost ruined the reputation of my wife, Halwell! Her father challenged you to a duel because you would not back off. How can you talk to me about forgetting the past when you have behaved so abominably? Your son is probably exactly the same as you. A reprobate who can never reform.”
“He is not,” said Lord Halwell. “He is a young man who has been footloose and fancy free, partaking of all the joys of bachelorhood. He has never been involved in any type of scandal.” He paused. “He sincerely admires your daughter and wishes to ask for permission to court her in the proper manner. Will you not at least consider his case before dismissing him out of hand, just because of me?”
“Sarah is infatuated with him,” muttered her father. She could almost picture him shaking his head in sorrow. “But she is wayward and spoilt and sometimes I believe she does these things just to give me grey hairs.” He paused, “She has had a perfectly good offer from Lord Tolmere, a man of impeccable reputation. I want her to accept it. Tell me, Halwell, why on earth should I consider your son over a gentleman whom I know and trust?”
Sarah held her breath. She could feel herself trembling like a leaf. It didn’t sound promising that her father would agree to Lord Halwell’s request. Would the Viscount’s father shake his head and give up, never to return?
Keep going, she pleaded inwardly. Do not give up!
Suddenly, she heard voices at the end of the hallway. Some servants were about to walk down and see her with her ear against her father’s study door. She could not afford for that to happen.
With regret she fled, walking quickly in the other direction. Her heart was beating so hard it sounded like a drum.
What was her father going to say? Would he give permission for Lord Nordarken to court her?
Her heart sank. It simply wasn’t possible. There was too much ill feeling between the two families. Her father would never consent to it, especially when there was an offer from James on the table. She knew very well which one he would pick.
In her room, she fell across the bed, stunned. So much had happened in such a short space of time. The whole morning had turned topsy-turvy; in fact, her whole world had been turned upside down as well.
Only an hour ago she had thought that all was lost; that she had no choice now but to give up and finally tell James they should announce their engagement to the world. But the arrival of Lord Halwell had changed everything. Not only did she now know that Lord Nordarken was indeed serious about her, she knew that he wished to court her.
Lord Nordarken felt the same way about her as she did about him.
It was not a game any longer.
Sarah hugged her pillow to her chest tightly. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
***
Arthur trembled as he stepped out of the carriage, nervously adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. He gazed up at the sprawling house. Pembleton Hall. He had never been here before and it was a grand estate, befitting an earl and a countess.
He couldn’t quite believe that he was here, about to walk into this house and ask Lord Pembleton for formal permission to court his daughter, with a view to a betrothal. But his father had assured him that Lord Pembleton would not bite his head off and have it for breakfast. The gentleman was cautiously open to his offer. Not convinced, but at least willing to listen.
His father was a miracle worker, obviously.
He gazed up at the upper windows. Was Sarah up there, knowing that he was about to visit? Or had her father decided to keep her ignorant about the whole thing?
He guessed he was about to find out.
***
Ten minutes later he was seated opposite Lord Pembleton. Sweat was slowly dripping down his neck. Ruefully he pulled at his cravat, seeking some much needed air on his skin. The older gentleman was truly fearsome. He realised it was the very first time he had attempted to get on the good side of the father of a lady he fancied, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience at all.