Stand and Deliver Your Love

by Sheffield, Killarney

  Maybe I should sleep with the woman then she might leave me alone. No, that would just lead to her pursuing me even more aggressively. Perhaps I should tell her I am courting someone, but who? Will the woman take the announcement with grace or will she continue to throw herself at me? Eventually she would find out there is no one in my life. He grimaced and downed the last of his brandy in one swallow. Like his glass, his life was empty.

  Byron poured himself another glass of brandy from the decanter on the table by the bathing tub and sunk lower into the water. He studied the amber liquid as he rolled the glass between his fingers. Had the glass of his life ever truly been full? Had he really loved Clarissa? He thought he did at the time, but now he wasn't so sure. He had been fond of her, but she hadn't made him lose all reason when she kissed him as Sarah did. Did he only lust after Sarah or was there more to his infatuation? His mind wandered back to her lush curves and the inexperienced wantonness her body displayed when she cried out for the fulfillment of his touch. His loins stirred under the water. With a groan he set down his glass and sank under the water trying to wash away her memory.

  Byron emerged from his bath twenty minutes later, feeling refreshed and determined to reject Lady Livington as kindly as possible. A trip abroad for a few months would quell her obsession with him and rid him of thoughts of Sarah’s body. All he had to do was convince Sarah to give up her life of crime then he could inform the king he no longer needed his assistance and be off.

  Byron smiled at his reflection in the mirror as he checked his dinner dress. It was time he stopped brooding and took life for all it had to offer again. He owed Sarah a debt of thanks for that. She awakened his dead soul. Satisfied his appearance was in order he sauntered from the room and made his way to the grand parlor where the rest of the twenty or so guests would gather.

  He had just poured himself a glass of port, when a downstairs maid handed him a note. He opened it.

  ‘Meet me at midnight in your room, with my possessions.’

  ‘Sarah.’

  “Is there trouble at your estate?”

  Byron looked up as the king reached for the brandy decanter. “No, everything is fine, Your Excellency.” Byron slipped the note into the inner pocket of his vest. “Just a note from an admirer.”

  The king chuckled and gave him a cocky wink. “Ah, the lovely Lady Livington, I presume.”

  Byron heaved an exaggerated sigh. “It seems the lady is quite smitten with me, or my supposed pursestrings.”

  “As Shakespeare said, ‘Methinks he doth protest too much,” the king said with a hearty laugh.

  Byron grinned. “It is not that I would not be interested in such a lovely piece of arm decor. I am just so out of practice in all things ‘womanly’ you see.”

  “Hehehe! You have leaned upon an unsympathetic ear my friend, for I would be in heaven if the ladies hung sincerely on my every word as they do yours. To be young, wealthy and unshackled would not be so terrible a burden to most of us I dare say.”

  The other men in the group chuckled. “I am certainly not wealthy, yet anyway.” Byron’s face heated and he downed his drink to hide his embarrassment. The conversation turned to who was sporting the loveliest mistress at the present. “Did you hear Lord Kensing fought a duel in Hyde Park last week?” one of the men remarked.

  “Really?” said another, “Who did he duel?”

  “I hear it was that scoundrel, Hugo Houten, Lord Wellington’s cousin,” another replied.

  Byron looked up at the mention of Sarah’s family name.

  “What say you about Wellington?” another asked.

  A perplexed frown lingered on the king's face. “The name is familiar but I cannot place it. Who is he and what was the outcome?”

  The first man hurried to explain, “You remember the fellow, your excellence. The fellow who applied for guardianship of the little Wellington chit. Do you remember the one? Her parents were killed six years back.”

  A glimmer of remembrance crossed the king’s face. “Yes, now that you mention it I do recall something about it. What ever happened to the girl?”

  “I do not know.”

  “I heard the bloke gambled away the girl’s inheritance,” someone else volunteered.

  “No, no, she married some French count and died in child birth,” another said.

  Lady Livington entered the room. She crossed to where Byron stood and placed a hand on his arm in a possessive gesture. “Whom are we all speaking of?”

  Byron glanced down at her, “We were all wondering what ever happened to the Wellington girl.” Lady Livington smirked. “Oh, I heard she was caught in a compromising position with a stable lad and sent to a nunnery.”

  Byron frowned. He didn't believe Sarah would have been caught in such a situation but he wisely kept quiet. The conversation was dropped as the king signaled for them to make their way to the dining room.

  The meal itself was delicious, but uneventful. Byron tried to steer clear of any one-on-one conversation with Lady Livington while trying not to look rude. All the while he watched the servants hoping one of them would be Sarah, but he saw no sign of her. He was relieved when the king finally rose after the last course was finished to signal it was time for the gentlemen to retire to the library for their customary port and cigars.

  Byron took the cigar the king offered him and settled comfortably into an overstuffed armchair by the crackling fire. He stared moodily into the flames, not paying much attention to the conversation around him. Tonight he would see Sarah again. He would have to tell her the king was looking for her and her men. If he gave back her family jewels she could sell them and have enough money to care for her beloved street urchins for a while he supposed. Maybe she would refuse to sell her heirlooms, after all they were probably all she had left to remember her parents by. He frowned. It seemed unlikely she could find a job where she would earn little more than enough to keep herself clothed and fed, let alone take care of the orphans as well. There had to be a solution to the problem. Why he cared was beyond him. He supposed he merely felt sorry for her and the children, although the little voice in his head said it was far more than that. Since when had he cared about anyone other than himself in the last two years? He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the uncomfortable thought.“Is there something bothering you, Lord Cobbett?”

  Byron was roused from his thoughts by the king’s query. “No. I mean yes, as a matter of fact there is something bothering me.”

  The king looked momentarily mortified. “Oh dear, I hope the meal did not disagree with you.”

  Byron smiled and hurried to reassure him. “No, no, it was an excellent meal, Your Majesty. I was just trying to think of a solution to a problem recently brought to my attention.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” the king asked, looking pleased to hear that Byron was not ill.

  Byron pondered the problem for a moment. “Perhaps you might have an idea of how to amend the issue. You see, I know of a woman who takes in orphans and unwanted children. She runs an orphanage of sorts. She is not a workhouse, but seeks to find tasks and professions for them when they are old enough.”

  The king nodded. “A very commendable task.”

  “Yes, it is, however the poor woman is finding herself quite taxed by the whole situation financially. It seems none of the ton will give the project much consideration or support.”

  The king fixed him with a stern stare, his jaw muscles twitching with irritation. “I see, and you are hoping I will be the financial support she needs?”

  “Oh no, Your Majesty,” Byron explained, not wanting the king to think he was taking advantage of his new position of trust. “I was just hoping you would have some ideas how the woman could come up with the funds she requires.”

  One of the other lords interrupted. “Like a charity of some sort?”

  “My wife does some charitable works,” replied another with a snort, “Each month she gives away half of her wardrobe to the needy
and appeals to me for more blunt to replace the items.”

  There was a hardy round of guffaws and Byron could not help but feel consoled he wasn't married to the man’s wife.

  The king smiled. “Are you saying, Lord Dublin, I should give half of my wardrobe to the orphans? Could you just picture the little wretches walking the streets in a pair of my fine doeskin breeches?” The group of men laughed even harder.

  When the laughter faded Byron grinned sheepishly at the king. “I just thought there might be something of those who are better off than the rest, could do to help.”

  The king’s expression grew sober. “You are quite right, Lord Cobbett, we should do something. It is our responsibility to better those who cannot better themselves, would you not all agree?”

  Everyone was quick to agree with their monarch and numerous ideas were tossed about.

  A tap on the door interrupted their discussion. A butler entered and informed the king that the ladies and the evening entertainment awaited the men in the theatre room.

  The king nodded to Byron as they left the room. “Rest assured, Lord Cobbett, I will think more on this problem.”

  “I appreciate you giving it your valued attention, Your Eminence.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Byron looked up as the clock struck twelve. It was time for his meeting with Sarah. He made his excuses to the few couples and the king who had yet to retire, then wended his way upstairs to his room. Luckily, Lady Livington had retired earlier pleading a headache. He feared he would have had a difficult time rejecting her persistent advances. When he reached his room he turned the door knob, entering with stealth, so as not to alert the woman who occupied the room next to his of his presence. After shutting the door he crossed the room to the dressing table to remove the pin holding his cravat. His valet had left his night clothes hanging on the back of the chair and thoughtfully added wood to the fire. Tossing his neck cloth to the table top he heard a muffled cough. He spun around. The sound came from behind the curtains drawn shut around the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. With a chuckle he draped it over the back of a chair and crossed to the bedside.

  “When you requested me to meet you in my chamber I did not expect you to desire a late night tryst, mistress,” Byron teased. He drew back the curtains with a flourish. Instead of Sarah, he found Lady Livington awaiting him, totally naked.

  She sprawled in a seductive pose across the silk sheets, smiling up at him without a trace of modesty. “You lingered so long downstairs I began to think you were not interested after all,” she purred.

  Byron quickly recovered from the shock and frowned at the woman. “Lady Livington, what are you doing here?”

  She giggled. “Were you expecting someone else? Really darling, there is no reason to pretend to be so shy when we are alone.”

  Byron snatched up the pink silk nightdress the woman left lying on the floor by the bedside and held it out. “I think you need to put this back on.” The lady grinned, but made no move to take the robe from him. Taking a deep breath he leaned over the bed to drape the garment around her. She reached up as if she were going to pluck it from his hand and pulled him down onto the bed beside her instead.

  “See here, I—”

  “Shhh, someone might hear,” she whispered bringing her lips to his.

  He tried to move away but she caught his head between her hands to still him, as her lips ravishing his in a practiced but openly wanton way. Byron’s mind raced. He had to get rid of her before Sarah arrived! He sat up, tearing his mouth from hers. “Lady Livington, you have to leave.”

  The lady stared at him open mouthed for a moment and then sat up. With a coy smile she slipped her arms around his neck, pressing her small breasts against his naked chest. “Do not be so prude, my lord. I want you and I know you want me.” She gave him a lust-filled smile and thrust one of her hands down the front of his trousers. His manhood jumped and swelled as she applied a knowing caress. “See? You do want me.”

  Byron struggled to maintain his control and composure as her fingers worked their magic.

  “Only a fool would not want you,” he said his voice husky with desire. He pushed her away, at the same time he heard a light tap on his door. Damn! It has to be Sarah at the door.

  He turned as the door inched open and Sarah slipped into the room. She gasped when she caught sight of the naked woman in his bed. With a look that could scorch butter, she ran from the room. “Sarah!” Byron leaped from the bed, scrambling to button his trousers and follow her. By the time he reached the corridor she was nowhere to be seen. He returned to his room and gave Lady Livington a frosty look. “Get out!” Jerking his shirt from the back of the chair he turned his back on the naked woman. He shrugged into his shirt and buttoned it. Stalking to the bedside table he poured himself a glass of brandy. Lifting it to his lips he paused, glaring at her over the rim.

  She stared back at him with shocked bewilderment. “Out? Do you mean to tell me you do not want to make love to me because a maid might gossip?”

  “No,” Byron growled. “I mean get out!”

  Her face twisted into an ugly sneer. “Oh, I see now. You planned to share your bed this night with a common serving girl.”

  Byron gulped down the drink and glared at her. “No. She was to meet me here, but not for that reason, I—never mind. Please leave.”

  She slipped on her nightdress and flounced past him. Without a backward look she left the room, slamming the door behind her. Byron cringed as the noise echoed through the quiet halls. Now what was he going to do?

  He had to find Sarah, but how? He wasn't sure where the servant's quarters were. People would certainly ask questions if he were to venture there at this hour. Byron ran a hand through his mussed hair. With any luck there might still be a few servants up whom he might ask to take a message to Sarah. He set down his empty glass and headed out into the dimly lit hall to the main stairway.

  Damn Lady Livington, he thought, picking his way down the stairs and heading for the back of the palace where the kitchen would be. He should have known she was up to something when she arranged to have the bedchamber next to his and pleaded a headache. When he opened the kitchen door he found a serving girl still attending the fire in the big cooking hearth.

  She jumped to her feet when she heard him, her mouth forming a large ‘O’ of surprise when she realized he was not another servant. “My lord,” she managed with a quick curtsy, “Is there something I can get you?”

  “No … I mean yes.” Byron grimaced at his lack of savoir-faire. His shirt was hanging out of his trousers and his hair was mussed. He certainly didn't look, or sound, like the commanding marquis he was supposed to be. Clearing his throat he tried again. “Yes there is. I am looking for a serving girl, a red-haired one.” When the blonde girl eyed him with distain, he realized she mistook his intentions. It was obvious she thought he was looking for a body to warm his bed for the night, and that he preferred redheads. “I um, I have some news of a sick relative for one of the serving girls here. Maybe you know where I can find her…or you can have her sent to me. Her name is Sarah.”

  The girl looked him over as if she was unsure whether or not to believe his story.

  “Sarah is not a regular servant of the king’s.”

  Byron gave the girl what he hoped passed for a winning smile. “Yes, I know. I am going home in the morning and have not yet had the chance to pass on this much anticipated message from her dear mother.”

  “Oh,” the girl breathed giving him a polite smile. “I will go fetch her to the small

  parlor.”

  Byron turned and made his way back through the maze of corridors to the small informal parlor. A fire still crackled in the hearth when he entered the room. Relieved to see the room was unoccupied, he crossed the small cozy area and took the chair nearest

  fire to wait for Sarah. The tick-tock of the clock began to grate on his nerves as the minutes passed. Finally there was a discreet
tap on the door.

  Byron stood. “Enter.”

  When the door opened, instead of Sarah, the little blonde maid stood on the threshold. “My lord, it seems the Sarah you are looking for has left suddenly.”

  Byron puzzled the information. “Left? When will she be back?”

  “I was given the impression she would not be coming back, my lord. All of her things are gone.”

  “Damn her,” Byron swore under his breath. “Where did she go?”

  The girl wrung her hands at his obvious displeasure. “I do not know, my lord.”

  Byron stomped from the room, making his way back up the main stairs. A footman was about to knock on his door when he reached the hall.

  “Oh, there you are, my lord. The king has asked if you would escort Lady Livington back to London. It seems she is feeling ill and wishes to seek the advice of her own physician.”

  Byron stared at him. “Now?”

  The footman shrugged looking apologetic. “Yes.”

  “Good God, why me?”

  The footman shrugged again and turned to leave. Byron held up his hand to stop him. “Is His Excellence still up?”

  “He has just retired, my lord. He did say it was most fitting for you to escort the lady home since you are in charge of finding the highwayman. His Excellence said you are to take as many of the men as you see fit.” With that the footman hurried back down the hall and disappeared down the servants’ stairway.

  Byron swore under his breath, as he entered his room to ring for his valet. Was this all another ploy by Lady Livington to get him into her bed? It could very well be, he decided. Well what was stopping him? Sarah had no claim to him, nor he to her, so what did he care what she thought? If Sarah wanted her jewels back she knew where to find him. Let her play her highwayman games. He just wanted to go back home and forget he ever laid eyes on the woman. He would escort Lady Livington home because it was the king’s order, then continue on to his own estate. When the valet arrived, he informed him of his plans and commanded all his things be packed and made ready to leave immediately.