No Decent Gentleman

by Grasso, Patricia;

  "Let's sit down and discuss what you've written," he suggested.

  Sabrina followed Adam to the hearth. When Adam sat down on the couch, she sat in the chair opposite him. Lifting the journal off the table, she flipped through its pages to refresh her memory.

  "I haven't progressed to the actual day," Sabrina said, looking up at him. Oh, Lord, she thought, realizing just how perfectly blue his eyes were.

  Adam smiled as if he could read her thoughts. "Tell me what you've written," he said in a husky and intimate tone of voice.

  "I began a week before my father's death," Sabrina began, tearing her gaze away from his. "That was the day Edgar asked for my father's permission to marry me if I'd have him."

  Adam leaned back on the couch and stretched his left arm out across the top of it. His casual gesture caught her attention, and she wondered what life would be like married to the marquess and sitting together in front of the hearth each night.

  "So, tell me what happened."

  Sabrina gave herself a mental shake and focused on him. "As I said, Edgar asked for my hand in marriage, but my father refused."

  "Were you there?" he asked.

  Sabrina nodded.

  "What was the baron's reaction to that?" Adam asked.

  "He seemed surprised," Sabrina answered, gazing off into space, conjuring the scene in her mind's eye. "Edgar tried to reason with him by saying that our lands would be joined after his death, which would be a great inheritance to any son we produced. My father told him that I was never meant for him, which definitely made Edgar angry. He glanced in my direction and calmed down enough to apologize to my father for behaving badly."

  "Did the baron visit you anytime after your father refused his suit?" Adam asked.

  "Edgar visited me several times and insisted that my father would change his mind," Sabrina answered. "He would wait a week or two and then ask my father again."

  "To your knowledge, did the baron ever threaten your father?"

  "You cannot mean that Edgar had anything to do with my father's death."

  "I am not implying any such thing," Adam assured her with a smile. "I merely want to know all of the facts."

  Forbes and Higgins chose that moment to walk into the drawing room. Higgins served them a fresh pot of tea. Forbes carried a silver tray bearing cucumber sandwiches and slices of fruit pie.

  Winston lifted his head in the air and sniffed. Aware that food had arrived, he sat up and stared at the contents of the tray.

  "Lemon pie for my lady," Forbes said, passing her a dish. "And for my lord, hemlock pie."

  Sabrina burst out laughing. Forbes winked at her.

  "What is the joke?" Adam asked.

  "It's a private matter," Sabrina said, setting her plate on the table.

  "Very well, Princess. Keep your secrets," Adam said as the two majordomos left the room. "Winston, lie down."

  The wolfhound refused to budge except to inch closer to the platter.

  "The food is tormenting him," Sabrina said.

  "Winston must learn not to touch food meant for people," Adam replied, and rose from the couch. Gently but firmly, he forced the wolfhound to lie down. Then he looked at Sabrina and asked, "My lady, may I have this dance?"

  "What?"

  "Dance with me while we train him," Adam said.

  "I know how to waltz, but there's no music," Sabrina protested.

  "Come, Princess," Adam said, holding out his hand to her. "Trust me."

  Sabrina was unable to resist his devastating smile. Rising from the couch, she walked into his waiting arms as if she belonged there.

  "Each time we dance past the table, I'll order Winston to lie down if he is standing," Adam told her. "That way he'll learn not to touch food even if no one is watching him."

  Sabrina smiled as Adam began humming a waltz and leading her in a sweeping circle around the drawing room. He danced with the grace and ease of a man who had waltzed a thousand times.

  "You waltz divinely," Sabrina complimented him.

  "And so do you," Adam returned the compliment. "Who taught you how to dance?"

  "Who taught you?" Sabrina countered.

  "I asked first," he said.

  "I asked second," she replied, echoing the coversation they'd had on their coach ride to Oxford.

  "Eton required their students to learn social graces like dancing," Adam said with a smile. "Jamie Armstrong was my dancing partner."

  Sabrina burst out laughing. "When Aunt Tess came to live with us after Mother died, she taught Courtney and me several dances," she told him. "Later on my father hired a dancing master to complete our dancing education."

  "Were you and Courtney dancing partners?" he asked.

  "No, Edgar partnered both of us," she answered.

  Adam lost his smile. "I don't approve of your choice of partners."

  "And I don't approve of yours," Sabrina countered with a jaunty smile.

  Adam chuckled. "You needn't be jealous of my feelings for Jamie Armstrong."

  "And you needn't be jealous of my feelings for Edgar Briggs," Sabrina said without thinking.

  "My lady, you've set my mind at ease." Adam tightened his hold on her and whirled her to the far end of the drawing room.

  The constant swirling motion combined with the man to intoxicate her senses. His piercing blue gaze mesmerized Sabrina. She was unable to resist when he stopped dancing and gently drew her into his embrace.

  Adam inched his handsome face closer to capture her lips with his own. Enchanted with the man, Sabrina made no move to pull away. She closed her eyes at the very last moment.

  Their lips touched, sending a jolt of delicious sensation coursing through her. His mouth felt warm and gently insistent.

  Surrendering to his kiss, Sabrina sagged against his hard, unyielding body. His strong arms kept her imprisoned within his embrace, and she reveled in these new and exciting sensations.

  And then the kiss was over as unexpectedly as it had begun. Sabrina opened her eyes and stared in a dreamy daze at him.

  "I didn't mean to force you into a kiss," Adam apologized, wearing an unrepentent smile.

  "You didn't force me," Sabrina said, a rosy blush staining her cheeks. Embarrassed now, she flicked a quick glance toward the other side of the drawing room and said, "Look."

  Adam turned around. Winston sat beside the table and licked his lips. An empty platter lay on the table in front of the wolfhound.

  "Winston may be beyond redemption," Adam said.

  "You should be leaving," Sabrina said. "Staying here while the others are out could be misconstrued."

  Adam nodded. "Be ready at ten tomorrow morning. I'm taking you on the tour of the Tower. Afterward, we'll promenade down Bond Street and window shop. Courtney and our aunts, of course, are invited to accompany us."

  Adam leaned close to plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. And then he was gone.

  Adam St. Aubyn was too dangerously handsome, Sabrina thought, staring at the empty doorway. She especially liked his smile. His attitude was poor, though. His authoritarian nature was a gigantic flaw. She hoped his overcoming it wouldn't prove insurmountable.

  Sabrina thought of Alexis Carstairs, for the moment a name without a face. Lily had insisted that Adam possessed an abundance of integrity. No decent gentleman would ever consider sharing a physical intimacy with a woman who wasn't his wife. No, that simply wasn't done.

  Chapter 8

  "Make love to me."

  Sitting alone in his private box at the opera, Adam recognized the sultry voice. He had to give his former mistress credit; she was persistent, if nothing else. She'd known he always attended the opera alone to think. What she didn't know was that most operas had a theme he could easily relate to: namely, the loss of a loved one.

  Adam turned his head to stare through the semidarkness at her perfect profile. And men he felt her hand caress his thigh.

  "You want to make love here?" Adam asked, leaning close to whisper in her ear. />
  "Actually, I'd prefer the satin sheets on my bed," Alexis replied, giving him a feline smile.

  Adam dropped his gaze to her daring display of cleavage. He remembered how silken those perfect globes of flesh were.

  "You know I always attend the opera alone," Adam said, leaning close again. "I dislike being bothered here."

  "You left in such a hurry the other day," Alexis said, her hand on his thigh moving upward slowly. "I never said a proper goodbye."

  Adam removed her hand from his thigh and placed it on her own lap. "I don't appreciate being trapped into marriage."

  "I had no idea those ladies would be calling on me," Alexis defended herself, giving him an innocent look. "Don't you trust me, darling?"

  "I'll trust you on the day there's a snowball fight in hell."

  "You can't really be interested in that little country mouse from Abingdon?" Alexis asked.

  "That little country mouse is the Countess of Abingdon," Adam replied without answering her question.

  "She's also an adopted bastard."

  "If you make trouble for Sabrina or her sister, I will ruin you financially," Adam threatened in a harsh whisper.

  "I have no intention of making trouble for her," Alexis replied. "In fact, I hope she's a huge success and pursued by every gentleman who sees her."

  "That's unusually kind of you," Adam said. "Now, return to your own seat before intermission."

  "Promise me you'll stop by my house later," Alexis said.

  At that point Adam would have agreed to almost anything to get her out of his box before intermission. He didn't want anyone from The Times reporting on his public appearance with Alexis Carstairs.

  Adam inclined his head. "Very well, I'll stop by later."

  Alexis smiled with satisfaction. "What time, darling?"

  "I don't know," Adam answered. "If you press me, I won't come at all."

  Alexis planted a kiss on his cheek and whispered, "I'll see you later." She slipped out of his opera box as silently as she had entered.

  Alone again, Adam relaxed back in his chair, but the soothing calmness of the opera had disappeared with Alexis's intrusion on his privacy. He fixed his gaze on the world-renowned diva, so famous she needed only one name. A shade above forty, Madame Esmeralda still sang with the strength and vigor of her youth and carried the audience to wherever she wanted them to go.

  Adam stared hard at the soprano. There was something vaguely familiar about her. And then he knew. The diva reminded him of Sabrina. He shrugged that absurd notion away. The woman resembled Sabrina because both of them had hair the color of molten fire. Any similarity ended there. The curtain closed to thunderous applause as intermission began.

  Adam decided he'd had enough of the opera for one night. He stood to leave but noticed the crowd of admirers in Alexis's opera box across the theatre. Among the small crowd stood Lord Edgar Briggs. Mulling that over, Adam left the theatre.

  "St. James's Street," he called to his drivers.

  Adam climbed into his coach and leaned back against the leather seat. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Troubling possibilities had surfaced this night. What was Edgar Briggs's motive in paying court to Alexis? Did he intend to whisper more gossip about Sabrina into her ear? Or was it the other way around? Was Alexis supplying Briggs with information on him?

  Adam knew one thing for certain. He was not going to visit Alexis Carstairs that night or any other night.

  Dressed almost completely in black like Lucifer himself, Adam walked into White's Gentlemen's Club. He waved at Jamie Armstrong and gestured that he'd join him in a moment.

  Aware that most gazes were fixed on him, Adam marched across the room toward the infamous betting book. Slowly, he turned each page and read the wagers concerning his forthcoming offer of marriage to Alexis Carstairs. His gender's lack of faith in one of their own appalled him.

  Finally, Adam lifted the quill and wrote his own wager. The gentlemen who had betted against him were destined to lose. He set the quill down and crossed the chamber to sit with Jamie Armstrong.

  "You certainly know how to draw a crowd," Jamie said, inclining his head toward the betting book.

  Adam followed his friend's gaze and smiled. Several men had descended on the book and were inspecting what he'd written. Their numbers grew with each passing second.

  "I thought you were going to the opera tonight," Jamie said.

  "I did go," Adam told him. "Alexis decided to slip into my box."

  "Are you certain you don't want to change that bet you just made?" Jamie asked.

  Adam grinned.

  "Good evening, Your Grace," a voice beside their table said to Jamie. Then, "Lord Stonehurst, may I speak with you?"

  Adam looked up at Dudley Egremont, Viscount Dorchester. He suspected the evening was about to take a turn for the better.

  "Sit down, Dorchester," Adam invited him.

  Twenty-year-old Dudley Egremont sat down and immediately apologized, saying, "I'm sorry to intrude upon your evening, but I happened to see you and did not want to miss this opportunity."

  "What's on your mind, Dorchester?"

  Dudley smiled nervously. "I met Mistress Courtney Savage at my aunt's house this afternoon and would like your permission to call upon her."

  Adam stared at the younger man, making him squirm. "Why are you asking for my permission?" he asked finally.

  "I understand that you hold the receivership rights to the Savage assets," Dudley replied. "I assumed you were Courtney's guardian."

  "Courtney hasn't made her coming-out yet," Adam said curtly, without bothering to correct the younger man's mistaken assumption.

  "I am willing to wait until her coming-out," Dudley said.

  Adam cocked a dark brow at him. "Do you think the lady will welcome your attentions?"

  "She seemed to like me very well," Dudley answered. "Though, I cannot guess what will happen once the other bachelors meet her."

  Adam lifted his brandy snifter to toast the younger man, saying, "Here's to your success with my ward."

  "Thank you, my lord," Dudley said, rising from his chair. "You won't regret giving me your approval."

  "I haven't given you my permission to marry the girl, merely to call upon her."

  "I understand, my lord," Dudley said, and backed away from the table. "Good evening to both of you."

  "You wanted Egremont and Courtney to meet," Jamie said, watching the viscount walk away. "How fortuitous that she was visiting his aunt."

  "Fortuitous, my arse," Adam said with a smile. "Aunt Belladonna loves matchmaking intrigues and was only too eager to bring them together."

  "Why were you being so difficult with him?" Jamie asked.

  "A man values most what is difficult to win," Adam answered.

  Jamie smiled and then rose from his chair. "I'm going home to my wife."

  Adam stood when Jamie did. "I'm going home too," he said. "I promised Sabrina a tour of the Tower in the morning."

  The two friends headed for the door, located on one side of the bay windows. When they stepped outside the club, thick yellow fog greeted them like an old friend. The street seemed eerie with only the glow from the gaslights.

  Suddenly, a lone horseman galloped down St. James's Street. When the dark figure came abreast of them and halted his horse, he raised a pistol and fired at them. In an instant, he'd reined his horse away and galloped down the street.

  Adam and Jamie dove behind one of the carriages. They heard the alarmed shouts of their coachmen as they gave chase and the sounds of the retreating horse. Several men from inside White's came running out.

  Adam stood first and offered his hand to his friend. Jamie accepted it.

  "Who wants you dead?" Adam asked him.

  Jamie grinned. "I was about to ask you the same question."

  "Are you injured?" Dudley Egremont asked, obviously worried.

  Adam shook his head. "Both of us are well."

  "Who do you th
ink it was?" one of the spectators asked.

  "I didn't see his face," Adam answered.

  "The man was wearing a mask," Jamie spoke up. When Adam turned to him in surprise, he shrugged his shoulders and smiled, saying, "I've learned never to take my eyes off an enemy, no matter what. While we were diving behind the coach, my gaze was on him."

  "Is there anything we can do?" a second spectator asked.

  Adam shook his head. "Please, gentlemen, go inside and continue your evening. We'll be fine. I see our coachmen returning, unfortunately without the culprit."

  Still talking excitedly with one another, the wealthy patrons of White's Gentlemen's Club returned to their evening's pursuits. Only Dudley Egremont lingered there.

  "Are you certain you're not injured?" the young viscount asked, using his handkerchief to brush the dirt from Adam's cloak.

  "Dorchester, unless you are applying for the position of valet, go inside with the others," Adam ordered.

  Egremont instantly dropped his hands to his sides. "You're certain—?"

  "You are beginning to annoy me," Adam warned. "I would hate to revoke my permission for you to call upon Courtney."

  "I bid both of you a good night," the viscount said, and then hurried inside the club.

  "Someone wants you dead," Jamie said when they were alone.

  "You're the man who snatched an American girl and forced her to England," Adam shot back.

  "Her father forgave me for that," Jamie replied. "On the other hand, you have paupered more than a few businessmen, and then there's the possibility of—"

  "Do not even speak the words," Adam interrupted.

  Jamie nodded in understanding.

  "The man disappeared down an alley," Abdul said when he reached Adam and Jamie.

  Sagi nodded. "The coach was too big to follow and much too slow to overtake the horse."

  "Now that we've been forewarned, we'll keep our eyes open and catch the scoundrel the next time he tries something," added Jamie's coachman.

  "Take care of yourself," Jamie said, shaking his friend's hand. "Please, let those two giants do their jobs." He turned to his own coachman and said, "Let's go home, Duncan."

  "Forgive us, my prince, for failing to protect you," Abdul said as soon as Jamie walked away.