Mary knew better than to argue when Sabrina had set her chin at that angle, so, shrugging, she told Sabrina the news she had heard.
"The Duke of Camareigh arrived a short while ago, Rina."
"Here!" Sabrina asked incredulously.
Mary nodded her head. "I'm afraid so."
Sabrina felt her face grow flushed. Damn Lucien, she should have guessed that he would not leave her alone. What was he up to? He was here to cause trouble. When Mary had first said he was here her heart had leapt with anticipation at seeing him, yet she knew instinctively that he would try to destroy her. He was here to taunt her, to embarrass her, to be a constant reminder of their secret. He wanted revenge for having been duped by her. His pride was wounded, and that he could not forgive.
"I wonder what he'll do?" Sabrina murmured aloud.
"I don't like him," Mary said unhappily.
Like him? No, Sabrina thought, he wasn't an especially likeable person, but she couldn't seem to resist the attraction she felt for him, nor could she forget him. She despised herself for feeling such a weakness, but she just couldn't help herself. But she would be careful and not let Lucien know that he had the power to disturb her. She would show him that he meant little or nothing to her. She would have Granston eating out of the palm of her hand before this weekend was over. She didn't care if Lucien was getting married in a week. It was no concern of hers. She couldn't help but wonder, though, what kind of woman Lucien would pick to marry? He must love her if he was marrying her. Maybe she would be with him now? Sabrina squashed the sudden pang of jealousy she felt for this unknown woman who had Lucien's love, and jerked a satiny curl over her shoulder painfully. She didn't like Lucien, nor did he like her. He was merely a girl's first love and she would get over him soon enough.
Sabrina put her plans into action that evening as she sat next to the Duke at the head of the table. She avoided Lucien's grim face across the table from her as she played the coquette for a responsive Duke of Granston.
"You are so clever, Your Grace," Sabrina flattered him, "do tell me that story again." She leant forward eagerly, the low, wide bodice of her rose-colored gown revealing to his eyes the alluring roundness of her breasts, barely covered by the delicate wisp of lace tucked into the deep vee between them. She smiled up at Granston, her dimple attracting his bloodshot eyes to her soft mouth.
He reached out and caught her small hand in his fleshy one, his thumb tracing a pattern around her wrist. "How dare Wrainton keep you hidden in the country all of these years," he whispered hoarsely into her small pink ear, managing to touch his lips to a soft curl.
Sabrina pulled back, masking her repulsion at the touch of his lips with a pouting smile as she flirted with him. "Papa always said that the fruit was sweeter that had been left to ripen under the caress of the summer sun."
The Duke gave a roar of laughter and Sabrina glanced up and into the glinting eyes of Lucien, his mouth cruel as he glared at her across the table. As he continued to stare at her his mouth gradually curved into a smile that caused a shudder of apprehension to flicker along Sabrina's spine.
"Of course, one shouldn't allow the fruit to stay on the tree too long," Lucien commented dryly, "or someone might be tempted to steal a piece and take a bite out of it"
The Duke of Granston laughed appreciatively. "Never at a loss for words, eh, Lucien? Wish you'd be my guest more often."
Sabrina looked down at her plate, the only one who realized the threat behind his casual words. She looked over at the Marquis and Contessa who were exchanging smug glances as they watched Sabrina charm their host. They were already counting their money, she thought in disgust. Sabrina tried to catch Mary's eye, but she was staring in fascination at Lucien, a small pulse beating visibly in her temple.
Following custom the women left the men to their port and smoking, while they retreated to the salon for gossip.
"I am glad to see you are the sensible one, Sabrina," the Contessa remarked. "The Duke is enamored of you, it is plain to see," she paused thoughtfully, "however, it is this other one, the scarred one, who has me puzzled. He has some interest in you, of course, he is attracted to you; but he seems to be angry, and there is hate in his eyes as he stares at you, little one. Why should this be?"
Sabrina's face whitened. "I hardly know the gentleman. Why he should dislike me I haven't the slightest idea."
"Ah, I did not say dislike. I said hate, which is far stronger, and involves the heart. It is said that you must hate a little in order to feel the strongest emotion of love."
"That's ridiculous," Sabrina denied faintly. "Besides, he is to wed next week. Surely he is in love with this woman?"
The Contessa smiled cynically. "I doubt it. You see he must marry the woman his norma, the Dowager Duchess, has chosen if he is to inherit his estate. They have had the argument about this for many years, it is said, so he finally gives in."
Sabrina stared in amazement at the Contessa. "So, he doesn't love this woman. He's being forced into marriage against his will." Sabrina couldn't resist a smile of satisfaction at Lucien's predicament. In her misery she welcomed company, glad that she was not the only one being forced against her wishes to do something.
Mary came into Sabrina's bedchamber as she was preparing for bed later that evening, her face mirroring her doubts. She took the brush from Sabrina's slim hand and began to brush the long, black hair in even strokes down her back.
"I think you are asking for trouble, Rina.' Mary said after a moment's silence. She saw Sabrina's shoulders stiffen, but continued to brush the fine hair. "I won't harangue you, Rina, because I know that you've all of our interests at heart, but I just don't think it will work out. I don't want to see you disappointed, or," she paused, her voice breaking as she continued slowly, "involve yourself with someone that you despise. I know you can't bear to have the Duke touch you. He may be our host, but I think he's despicable."
Sabrina stood up, looking touchingly young in her long, white nightgown with her dark hair hanging loose to her hips.
"I saw you looking strangely at Lucien this evening, and I wondered if you'd seen something, Mary? Please tell me," Sabrina pleaded almost desperately. "I need so much help in what I'm doing. I have to know if he is going to interfere."
"Do you know what I saw? I saw you and Lucien together, laughing and," Mary gave a self-conscious laugh, "kissing under a big tree. How can that be, Rina?"
"It can't be!" Sabrina answered angrily, her cheeks flushed. "You are completely wrong this time, Mary," she said scornfully. "I think your gift must have left you and you are merely dreaming now."
Mary bent her head, hurt by Sabrina's harsh words. Sabrina ran across to her, regretting her outburst, and put her arms around her. "I'm sorry, Mary, forgive me? I always speak before I think, and you know I wouldn't hurt you for anything. Please, forgive?"
Mary smiled half-heartedly. "I forgive you, but I want to go home, Rina. I don't want to be paraded around anymore. I long so much for the quiet of Verrick House and Aunt Margaret's vague comments, and I'm worrying about Richard, there by himself and feeling bold with his new glasses."
"I know, I do too. Soon, Mary, soon well have everything back to normal, you just wait and see," she promised.
Mary bid her good night and left for her own room, leaving Sabrina sitting on the edge of her bed, a candle burning softly on the table beside it. She had been sitting there for several minutes staring into the flickering flame when she heard a sound, and looking up saw Lucien standing just inside the door.
"Casting spells, Sabrina?" he asked as he came forward into the room, the door partially opened behind him.
Sabrina jumped to her feet and faced him. "I didn't invite you here, Lucien," she told him coldly, despite the quickening of her heartbeats.
"No?" he questioned doubtfully. "It seemed to me that you were issuing an invitation to all comers at dinner. Many men watched your little game of seduction this evening." He spre
ad his hands, drawing Sabrina's attention to his dark red dressing gown tied at the waist "I decided to accept the invitation so you would not be disappointed."
Sabrina swallowed painfully. "Leave my room at once!" she ordered his approaching figure in a quivering voice.
"No," he answered softly, coming to a halt not more than a foot from her.
"Lucien, please," Sabrina told him in a soft voice, "don't do this.59
Lucien grinned, unmoved by her plea. "Why, are you expecting some other nocturnal visitor? Our host perchance?" he sneered, then reaching out caught a long curl and wrapped it around his hand as he had done once before. He pulled her unresisting body into his arms, hugging her close to him. He lowered his head and touched her lips with his, softly at first enticing her mouth to part beneath his as his hands slid slowly over her body.
Sabrina breathed deeply of his scent, letting her fingers curl around the back of his neck as she pressed closer to him. All of her firm resolutions fled as she stood wrapped in his arms and held close against his heart. He wasn't angry at her any longer, she thought in triumph as his lips clung to hers. He really must care for her. She would tell him that she loved him, too. Sabrina struggled from his deep kiss reluctantly, leaning away from him so she could look up into his eyes, her violet eyes glowing with love as she opened her mouth to speak.
"Lucien," she said. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement and turning her head stared in amazement at the Duke of Granston, who stood watching the scene with a regretful look on his florid face.
"My pardon," he said a trifle thickly, "I hadn't known the lady was currently preoccupied with another."
Lucien glanced at him without surprise, as though he had been expecting the Duke to appear. He released Sabrina from his arms without a glance and turned to face him casually. "If you've a prior claim to the lady's favors, then I quite understand and will take my leave," Lucien offered graciously, ignoring Sabrina's sudden indrawn breath.
"Certainly not, first come first served, I always say," the Duke of Granston laughed. "Sorry to have intruded," he apologized, making a wry face of regret "Some other time, eh, Lady Sabrina?" he asked with a smirk, winking broadly as he turned and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Sabrina stared at the closed door in stunned silence, then looked up at Lucien who was watching her with a satisfied look on his face. Sabrina swallowed back her tears as the truth dawned on her.
"It was all a trick, wasn't it?" Sabrina whispered, her face a pale, frozen mask. "You knew the Duke would come here this evening."
Lucien smiled hatefully. "He intimated that he might pay a visit on the lovely Lady Sabrina, who had flirted outrageously with him all evening."
Sabrina nodded her head numbly. "I see, so you thought you would play the lover first, and then allow the Duke to discover you. Why?" Sabrina asked bluntly, her big violet eyes gazing at him directly, making him feel uncomfortable, but he shrugged it off contemptuously.
"I told you that you would pay for making me look the fool," he reminded her coldly. "You thought to catch the Duke in marriage, well, I seriously doubt that he will ask for your hand, now. Even he has a little pride, and to think that I had his bride in his own home before he, well, that is too much for even him to overlook. Of course, he may wish to form an alliance with you, but it won't lead to his purse strings, my dear."
Sabrina took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin proudly as she stared in contempt at Lucien. "Do you actually believe that I wanted to marry that drunken fool? Do you think that I would have gone into that marriage any more willingly than you are going into yours?" Sabrina asked him scornfully, her violet eyes searing him with her hate.
"You may feel satisfied with your damned revenge, for you have succeeded far beyond your wildest expectations. Not only have you degraded me and ruined my reputation, you have also destroyed my family," Sabrina told him shakily, then laughed hysterically. "Do you believe the Marquis will be pleased, Your Grace? It was he who planned my marriage to the Duke. He is the one in desperate need of money. And how do you imagine he persuaded me to follow his plans? Do ask me how, Your Grace, for I want you to know how he threatened to evict my aunt from her home, and how he plans to take my little brother from us. Oh, yes, do let me give your regards to my family, for they should know the man who has destroyed us."
Lucien stared down at her ravaged face, his eyes narrowed, the expression masked by his heavy-lidded eyes as he listened to her. He put out his hand and placed it on her shoulder comfortingly and was startled by the strength of her hand as she knocked it away.
"Get out!" Sabrina told him in little more than a whisper. "I hope I never see that scarred face of yours again, Lucien. It's scarred your soul as well, and I hope you rot in hell," she spat, and turning from him ran from the room and down the hall to Mary's room, bursting into her bedchamber and throwing herself into a startled Mary's arms.
Sabrina sobbed brokenly until she was drained of emotion and lay docile and silent in Mary's comforting arms. Finally she felt Sabrina's breathing become steady, although still ragged from her crying, as she fell into a troubled sleep. Mary had to comfort her several times in the night as her sleep was broken by terrible nightmares that left her trembling and sweating in fear. Sabrina hadn't told her anything, but she had the feeling that it concerned the Duke of Camareigh. He had some kind of hold over Sabrina that she couldn't seem to resist, for Mary had seen the look in her eyes as she stared at his scarred face. It was a warm and loving look that had never softened her eyes in that way before. Now, when she had mentioned his name to Sabrina, her eyes had filled with hate. When he had driven his sword into Sabrina's shoulder he had not hurt her more than he had now by whatever he had done. He might as well have driven it through her heart, for he had killed something in Sabrina this night.
The next morning Sabrina had gained control of herself and presented a normal, if subdued, face to the assembled guests. Lucien had left early, and with both Mary and Sabrina unusually quiet and reserved, and the Duke of Granston's attentions directed elsewhere and noticeably cool when speaking with Sabrina, the Marquis became quite annoyed. The night before everything had seemed to be moving along nicely, but now it seemed as though the Duke regretted having issued his invitation for the weekend. The last day seemed to drag on forever, until finally they made their departure the following morning. Sabrina huddled in her corner of the coach silently staring out of the window, oblivious to the smouldering looks the Marquis sent her every few minutes. Mary sat next to her, her face calm but her hands nervously fiddling with her gloves as she prepared to act as a shield should the Marquis decide to confront Sabrina with the disappointing outcome of their weekend. But the Marquis maintained a brooding silence the whole journey, only occasionally saying something in Italian to the Contessa, who wore a worried expression on her usually tranquil features as she glanced between the occupants of the coach.
When they arrived in London Sabrina and Mary quickly fled the coach and made for their bedchamber, but the Marquis had other plans, for he followed after their retreating figures.
"Sabrina! I want a word with you, girl." He pushed his way into their bedchamber, his violet eyes flashing with anger that he could no longer control. He stood facing them, his hands clenched in frustration as he stared at the small, defiant face so like his own.
"I know now why the Duke suddenly cooled towards you. What a fool you were to let him find you with Camareigh. You've ruined everything, even any other chances we might have had to wed you to some other rich suitor," he spat. "The Contessa heard the gossip from everyone there. It is now common knowledge that you are Camareigh's mistress. Didn't I tell you not to look in his direction? Damn you! Was his lovemaking worth it? You could've been a Duchess, but no, you can't resist a night in bed with a Duke, and that is all you'll get from Camareigh!"
Mary's mouth dropped open in astonishment at the
Marquis' accusations, and turning to look at Sabrina, felt her heart stop as she saw the anguished expression on her heart-shaped face.
The Marquis was breathing heavily, his face ruddy with anger. "Well, aren't you going to deny it? Claim your innocence? By God, I'm going to teach you a lesson I should have long ago," he threatened as he saw a riding crop on a nearby table and, picking it up, raised it above his head and brought it down on Sabrina's unprotected shoulder.
Lucien stared at the woman sitting nervously before him. Her auburn hair was sprinkled with gray, and there was a marked resemblance between her and her daughter.
"What are you trying to tell me, Lady Delande?" Lucien inquired softly, holding a tight rein on his growing anger. "Blanche has disappeared?"
Lady Delande ran her tongue across her lips nervously, moistening their dryness while she tried to find the right words to tell the Duke of Camareigh that she didn't know where Blanche was. "She never came back from the Harriers' ball, Your Grace."
Lucien frowned thoughtfully. "But that was at least four days ago. Why in the world didn't you come to me sooner, woman?" he demanded impatiently.
Lady Delande twisted her handkerchief until Lucien felt like grabbing it from her. She looked up finally, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. "I thought she might have been with you."
Lucien shook his head. "I received a note from her that evening informing me that she had the migraine and wished to leave early. By the time I received it she had already hired a conveyance to take her home. I certainly would have driven her home in my carriage had I known sooner," Lucien explained, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the distraught woman. "And you say she never reached home?"
Lady Delande nodded, pulling at her bonnet ribbons as though they were too tight.
"Why didn't you get in contact with me earlier?" Lucien demanded.
Lady Delande coughed and looked around the room at the blue and gold satin-upholstered chairs and settee, the mahogany sofa table and bureau-bookcase. In a large, carved gilt mirror she saw her own reflection and was startled by her own face.
Moonstruck Masness Page 20
