Lord Pembleton’s complexion was florid and he stared down his nose at Arthur, without speaking. His eyes were cold, and he did not say a word. Sarah’s father obviously wasn’t about to make this task any easier for him.
“I realise that there is enmity between you and my father, My Lord,” he said, in a nervous voice. “It is one reason that I did not tell him about my admiration for your daughter. But that admiration has overtaken me, Lord Pembleton. I seek your permission to court her.”
There. He had got it out into the open. He gazed at the older man anxiously.
Lord Pembleton’s eyes were as hard as flint. “I was shocked and appalled when your father knocked on my door, Nordarken,” he said slowly, looking him up and down. “But it is a testament to his persuasive skills that I am willing to sit down and listen to you try to win me over to your way of thinking, despite everything.” He paused. “Sarah already has a perfectly reasonable offer of marriage. Why should I consider you above it?”
Arthur was silent for a moment. He could rattle off his assets, his status, his wealth. He could say all those things that suitors usually said to win favour. He could tell Lord Pembleton how well he would look after his daughter and make sure that she would want for nothing.
But he knew that James, the Earl of Tolmere, had exactly the same things going in his favour. There was nothing to set him apart from the other man at all. Additionally, Lord Pembleton knew and respected the other man.
His heart sank for a moment. It was a lost cause. What was he even doing here, with his cap in his hand, trying to curry favour with this man who despised him and probably always would?
He was just about to get up, bow, and thank the man for his time. But then he thought of Sarah. Beautiful, vivacious Sarah, with her sparkling brown eyes and sinewy figure. The way that she laughed, tilting her head back so that dimples formed in her cheeks. Her quick wit, rising to the challenge of his game and meeting him every step of the way.
She was worth this effort. She was worth all of it. He would walk over hot coals for her if he must.
He took a deep breath. “My assets and wealth are on a par with Lord Tolmere,” he said slowly. “As is my position in society. I shall one day be an earl just as he is.” He paused, his heart racing in his chest. “But there is one thing that he cannot offer your daughter, Sir, which I can.”
“And what is that?” spat Lord Pembleton, his eyes still as cold as ice. “What do you have to offer my daughter that Lord Tolmere cannot?”
Arthur stood his ground, meeting the other man’s eye squarely. “Love.”
Lord Pembleton didn’t react. He kept staring at Arthur, drumming his fingers on the table.
“It is love that matters, My Lord,” he said slowly. “Your daughter loves me and does not love him. As I love her.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “We love each other, sir. And that is what makes all the difference.”
Chapter 21
Sarah meandered to the end of the garden at Pembleton Hall, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The wind had picked up and it was turning into quite a chilly day. She watched grey clouds scudding across the sky, ominous and dark. They seemed to match her mood entirely.
When she grew tired of walking she stopped, gazing at the landscape beyond the border of the estate. They were endless; rolling green hills that seemed to drift on forever. The fields were dotted with woolly white sheep and buttercups studded the hillsides. It was an endearingly charming scene – one that she had known all her life, and which usually gave her comfort. But she found no comfort staring out at it today.
She sighed heavily. It had been a week since the Earl of Halwell had so shockingly knocked on the front door of Pembleton Hall, beseeching her father to accept his son as a suitor. Her father had remained tight-lipped about the visit; he hadn’t uttered a word about it at dinner that night, nor at any time since. Sarah had little doubt that her parents had discussed it privately, but she was completely in the dark about how her father had replied to Lord Halwell.
On the day after Lord Halwell’s shock visit, her mother had bundled her up and taken her to visit her aunt in the next county. For the next four days, they had stayed at Aunt Dorothea’s quaint country manor home, visiting local teahouses and dressmakers. Sarah had only returned to Pembleton Hall late yesterday afternoon.
And she still did not know what the outcome of that visit was.
She sat down on a garden seat. She didn’t know why a small kernel of hope was still lodged in her chest. It had been a week. If her father had given his assent to Lord Nordarken courting her, he would surely have told her by now. No, it was obvious that Papa had sent Lord Halwell packing and probably told him to never darken his doorstep again.
She must still marry James. That much was apparent. She was doomed to spend the rest of her life with a man who did not love her and never could.
Forlornly, she wiped away tears. There was no use mourning it any longer. She must make the best of this situation. No, she and James would never be star-crossed lovers, but they could still have a good life, couldn’t they? Perhaps there would be children one day and she could pour all her love and devotion into them. That was what a proper woman was supposed to do in life at any rate.
She would forget him in the fullness of time, she told herself fervently.
She didn’t believe it for a moment.
Restlessly, she stood up, tightening her shawl again. The wind was starting to howl through the trees; the day was worsening. She was only dressed in a light muslin gown which the wind was whipping about her legs. She needed to get back inside the house.
She turned back towards the house. But then, her vision was arrested by the sight of a man walking slowly towards her.
Her heart stopped beating for a moment.
It was Lord Nordarken.
She couldn’t move to save her life. It was as if she was frozen to the spot.
There could be only one reason he was walking towards her in her own garden. But she hardly dared hope that it could be real.
***
He kept walking towards her until he was upon her. Her heart had started to beat again and was now acting like a wildly distressed bird lodged within her chest.
He gazed down at her, staring at her steadily. “You look stunned to see me, Lady Sarah,” he said slowly, his brown eyes sparkling. “Have I upset your orderly morning stroll, perchance?”
Sarah’s mouth opened. She felt like she was gaping like a fish that had just been hauled from the water. No sound emerged.
“What are you doing here?” she managed to breathe eventually.
His face changed, almost deepening with emotion. “You must surely know the answer to that question,” he replied, smiling slightly. “I would hardly have braved the truly frightening presence of your father to be at your side in your own home if it were not on serious business.”
Sarah blanched. “I am surprised Papa has not set the hounds upon you.”
He laughed briefly. “I was almost certain that he would,” he said in a dry voice. “When I spoke to him in his study the other day I am sure that he was tempted to do it once or twice.”
Sarah stared at him in utter shock. “You were…here? At Pembleton Hall?”
“I was,” he said slowly, his eyes twinkling. “I was hoping to catch even a glimpse of you during my visit but alas, you seemed not to be at home.”
Sarah’s mind was racing. “I was staying at my aunt’s house with my mother,” she said slowly. “Papa did not mention your visit to me at all.” She took a deep breath, her heart still racing madly. “But I did know that your father visited last week. I thought that there would surely be pistols at dawn over that.”
“As did I,” said Lord Nordarken. He contemplated her for a moment. “Shall we walk? It seems that I must catch up you up with what has been happening within your own home.”
He held out his arm to her. She took it, and they started to walk around the garden. Sarah cou
ldn’t help glancing back at the house fearfully. He must have gained entry through it; her parents must have allowed him admission and let him seek her out in the garden. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were just about to fly out of the back entrance, entreating her to stay away from this wicked gentleman.
“Have you been well?” he asked, gazing at her intently as they strolled.
“I have not been unwell,” she said vaguely. “At least, not in a physical sense. But my mood…” she faltered for a moment, before continuing on “…has been somewhat low, I must admit.”
“And why is that, pray tell?” He was still staring at her intently.
Her eyes filled with tears. She did not wish to burden him with how distressed she had been. How tormented she was at the thought of losing him forever. Did he truly feel the same way that she did, or had he just been spurred on at the thought that their game was over? Was she just a conquest to him?
She still did not know how he truly felt. Had he only sought out her father, requesting to court her, to prove himself the winner of the game? Was he going to dally with her again but not actually propose?
She bit her lip in a sudden agony of doubt. She barely knew him, after all. They had been enthralled in their delicious game but never revealed anything of their true selves to each other. She knew that what she felt was real and true…but was it the same for him?
“I have distressed my parents,” she replied, in a quiet voice. “They desire me to marry Lord Tolmere. I do not wish to do so…”
“And why is that?”
She gazed at him steadily. “I have already told you, Sir. He does not have my heart and never shall.”
He stopped walking, turning to face her. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed up at him.
“And who does have your heart, Lady Sarah?” he drawled, gazing at her intently.
Her face flashed with sudden anger. “I wish to know what your intentions are, My Lord,” she said stiffly. “Is this still part of the game? Are you seeking a confession of feeling from me merely to score points? Because if so, I shall not play any longer…”
She moved to walk away, so overcome with conflicting emotions she simply did not know how to handle it at all. But he stopped her by placing one hand on her arm, spinning her around to face him again.
“You are a wildcat,” he whispered, his eyes raking over her. “It is what attracted me to you from the very start, My Lady. You have a spark that I have never encountered in any woman. A spark that still burns as brightly as it ever did.”
Her heart flipped over in her chest. She felt as if the blood in her veins had turned to water.
“Stop playing with me,” she entreated, tears springing into her eyes. “I cannot endure it a moment longer.”
He was silent for a moment. Then slowly, he reached out a hand, caressing her face ever so gently. She couldn’t breathe as his hand trailed down her cheek, leaving a track of fire in its wake.
“I am not playing with you, Lady Sarah Rubyton,” he said in a low voice. “The game stopped long ago. I am as serious as I have ever been in my life.”
She gazed up at him, unable to speak.
“I know that I have not pursued you in the proper manner,” he continued, looking pained. “It was only a game to start with. A diversion while I was resident in this district.” He paused. “But you have bewitched me utterly, Lady Sarah. You haunt my dreams and fill my days and I declare that there is no other woman for me. Not now and not ever.”
She gasped, glorying in his words, feeling them wash over her like healing waters.
“You…you are serious in your admiration?” She could barely speak.
“I am,” he whispered, stepping closer towards her so that she felt his warm breath upon her face. “Why else would my father have braved the wrath of your own to come here and plead my case to court you? He only did it because he saw how tormented I was. How utterly bereft at the thought of losing you.”
She couldn’t help it. The tears that had been threatening suddenly spilled over.
Gently, he wiped them away, dabbing at her face with his handkerchief. The action was so tender and loving that she felt a lump thicken in her throat.
“Your father finally relented to let me court you when he saw my sincerity,” he continued. “He was inclined to choose Lord Tolmere as your intended and throw me out on my ear. But I convinced him that not only was I an equal suitor to James Marcus in status and wealth, I also had an added advantage.” He took a deep breath, pinning her to the spot with his gaze. “I truly love you, which Lord Tolmere does not.”
“You love me?” Her voice was a whisper. “You truly do love me?” She paused. “I am not a glamorous opera singer, nor an exotic fortune teller. I am merely a regular young lady. Just like any other.”
“I do,” he whispered, his eyes burning. “I love you body and soul, Lady Sarah Rubyton. I think that I loved you from the very first moment I laid eyes upon you. It just took me a little while to figure that out.” He paused. “You are more exciting to me as yourself than any glamorous opera singer. And if you love me even half as well as I do you, I shall be a very contented man.”
“I do,” she cried, collapsing into his arms. “I have been in torment over it. I have not been able to sleep or eat. The thought of losing you tortured me so, but I was never sure if you felt the same way about me, or whether it was all still a game to you.”
“The game is over,” he repeated, whispering it fervently into her ear. “But the journey is only just beginning.”
Tenderly, he tilted back her chin, gazing into her eyes. And then, agonisingly slowly, his lips finally found hers.
Those lips moving on her own told her more than mere words ever could. Finally, she believed. She felt his sincerity within that kiss; it was the most loving kiss she had ever experienced in her life. Full of ardent desire, but also true tenderness. A kiss that sealed what was between them forever.
She surrendered to it completely.
She never wanted that kiss to end but eventually it did, of course. She was burning with desire, quite weak with it, and she could feel it zinging through his veins as well. But they were standing in her garden on a chilly Monday morning and she knew that her parents and probably the entire staff were watching them avidly through the windows of the house. It was neither the time nor the place to indulge that desire.
Not yet, she thought, her heart soaring. But very soon, if all goes well.
Suddenly, he fell on his knees in front of her, taking her hand. He gazed up at her intently.
“Will you be my own?” he whispered. “I promise that I shall court you for a length of time, Lady Sarah Rubyton, so that you are very certain that my feelings for you are real. But I am too impatient to delay. Will you eventually make me the happiest man in the world by consenting to become my wife?”
Sarah stared down at him, dazed with emotion. The dream had come true. She had never believed it possible. He had overcome her parent’s opposition which had seemed insurmountable. She suddenly knew he would have overcome anything so that they could be here now, in this moment. He would have flayed dragons or scaled castle walls to make her his own.
The game was well and truly over. And yet, it seemed that plain reality was so much better.
“Yes,” she whispered, tears running down her face again. “Oh, yes please.”
His reaction was all that she had imagined. His eyes lit up with pure joy. Within a flash, he was on his feet again, taking her into his arms. A soft kiss, like butterfly’s wings, on her lips.
Courting A Sinful Stranger: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 15
