Perhaps she could at least see some of the house. She opened the door to find the housemaid who had brought her tray on the other side. The maid squeaked. ‘Oh, ’tis a scare you gave me, my lady! I did not expect—I beg your pardon!’
Sarah gave her a kind smile. ‘It is quite all right…Sally, is it not?’
‘Yes, my lady.’ She still looked a little breathless. ‘His…his lordship wishes to see you in his study.’
‘Does he?’ Sarah’s heart leaped to her throat. She’d hardly expected to be summoned for an audience with him so early. If anything, she had expected him to avoid her. ‘Perhaps you could show me the way to his study.’
‘Oh, yes! That is, certainly, my lady. ’Tis right next to the library.’
Since Sarah had no notion where the library was, she was happy to have Sally for a guide. His study turned out to be a room off the main entrance hall. She stepped inside.
He sat at a large desk, his head bent over a sheaf of papers, pale light from the nearby window spreading across the desk. He looked up immediately when she entered and then stood. ‘Please, come in,’ he said politely.
He came around to the side of his desk. He was dressed in buckskin breeches, top boots and a brown coat and looked the complete country gentleman. ‘I trust you slept well,’ he said in the same polite tones. ‘You may come here.’
‘Very well.’ She came to stand in front of her desk, her hands clasped in front of her, feeling as if she had been summoned by her grandfather.
‘Please, sit down.’ He indicated a chair near his desk. She took it and perched on the edge, folding her hands in her lap.
‘Is everything to your satisfaction?’
‘Most certainly everything,’ she said with some acerbity. Really, she’d had more personal conversations with a horse. She might as well be a stranger he barely remembered.
He finally looked at her, his face expressionless. ‘You will undoubtedly want to see the house. Mrs Humphries will show you the rooms.’ He glanced back down at his papers as if he could not wait to get back to them.
As if he intended to keep her firmly out of his way like an unwanted poor relation. She was seized with an uncharacteristic desire to shake him out of his indifference. ‘I would prefer that you show me the house, my lord,’ she said.
His head shot up. ‘Why?’
‘Otherwise I shall feel as if I’m taking a…a country home tour. I did once, when I was sixteen. We visited Laurelhurst and the housekeeper most obligingly took us through the house. And then, because it was raining and she felt sorry for us, we were given refreshments before we left.’
He frowned. ‘I wasn’t exactly planning to have Mrs Humphries provide you with refreshments before sending you off.’
‘Weren’t you?’
‘Hardly.’ He stared at her. ‘I would have thought you would prefer having Mrs Humphries for a guide.’ He glanced at his desk again. ‘And I have business I must attend to.’
A twinge of hurt mixed with anger shot through her. It was obvious he wanted nothing to do with her. Well, she had no intention of begging him to accept her company. ‘Of course, my lord. Then I will leave you.’ She whirled around and walked towards the door, head high as if it didn’t matter a whit.
She’d just reached the door when he spoke. ‘Sarah!’
She paused and looked back at him. ‘Yes, my lord?’
‘Damnation!’ Now he had a scowl. ‘Give me an hour and I will be with you. I’ve business with my steward first.’
She lifted her chin. ‘There is no need to put yourself out, particularly if you plan to swear at me. I am certain Mrs Humphries will do an admirable job.’
He fixed her with a dark stare. ‘You will be waiting for me in an hour. In the library.’
So now he was back on his high horse again. ‘Yes, my lord.’
His look darkened. ‘And if you continue to call me my lord, I will give serious consideration to locking you up. Do you understand, Sarah?’
‘Quite. My lord.’ She fled from the room, taking grim satisfaction from the black scowl on his face. And then wondered what in the world she had done now.
Dev jerked his mind back to Thomas Dalton’s words. He was a stocky man with a pair of intelligent grey eyes in a weatherbeaten face. He’d been at Ravensheed for nearly twenty years. Dev’s parents had died of influenza when he was barely seventeen. Since then, Dalton had been his mentor as well as employee.
He realised he hadn’t a notion of what his steward had said. Something about the north field. ‘I apologise, but I was not attending.’
Dalton gave him one of his slow smiles. ‘I imagine not, my lord. Not with a new bride waiting for you. Perhaps you would rather discuss this later.’
‘That might be best.’ Dev rose, cursing himself for behaving like an idiot. He’d spent most of the hour trying to keep his mind focused on the business at hand. Instead, his thoughts strayed to Sarah…almost as if he actually was a besotted bridegroom.
‘We wish to offer our most sincere felicitations,’ Dalton said. ‘And Nancy looks forward to the honour of making Lady Huntington’s acquaintance.’
‘Of course. As soon as there is a day suitable for riding.’ Dev stifled a groan. He had forgotten all the duties associated with bringing home a new wife, such as making her known to his tenants. He could hardly hide Sarah away and pretend she did not exist.
He left Dalton with a heavy book of accounts and quit the room where he conducted most of the business of managing the vast estate. He strode more quickly from the servants’ wing than he usually would have, despite having cut short his meeting with Dalton.
His footsteps slowed and he scowled. The last thing he’d wanted was to spend time with Sarah. Every encounter he had with her managed to overset his equilibrium. He couldn’t even sit through a dinner without feeling confused. Worse was her obvious concern for his health and comfort, something that he’d rarely experienced from any woman outside his family. It threw him completely. As did the unwelcome thought that she regarded him as nothing more than a hurt stray that needed her pity.
After last night, he vowed that he would keep away from her. Treat her with polite indifference and hope he would recover from the unwelcome effect she was having on his well-ordered world.
So why he was now entering his library to show her around his house was a complete mystery. Except she had looked so forlorn standing in front of his desk that he had felt an unexpected twinge of conscience. And then, when she walked away, her chin tilted as if it mattered not at all, his vow was shot to hell.
He walked into the library. She sat at one of the tables, her head bent over a book. She looked up and smiled. ‘You have a wonderful library. I always thought my grandfather’s was superb, but I must own, I think yours is superior.’
He caught his breath, taken aback by the first genuine smile she’d ever directed at him. Its warmth lit her face and nearly sent him reeling with its impact.
She was waiting for his response. ‘I collect books, or rather my father and grandfather did, and I’ve added to them,’ he finally managed to say.
‘What sort of books do you have?’
He shrugged, trying to remain indifferent. ‘Philosophy, history, geography, some scientific works.’
‘What? No novels?’ Her voice held a teasing note that threw him off even more.
He arched a brow. ‘I hate to crush your expectations, but I do have an extensive collection of novels. Including some put out by the Minerva Press.’
Her smile deepened. ‘But the question is, do you ever read them?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, my dear, I do.’
‘Really?’
He moved to stand in front of her. ‘Really. In fact, I have read all of Mrs Radcliffe’s works, and a few with such fascinating titles as The Horrors of Oakendale Abbey and Spectre of the Turret.’
‘Indeed,’ she said. She could hardly look more stunned if he had announced he habitually robbed homes. ‘Did you like th
em?’
‘They were fascinating, to say the least. I broke my leg two summers ago and Jessica decided I needed something less dry than my usual reading. So she brought me an armload of novels. I was actually quite entertained. If I recall correctly, one had a ghost who dripped blood.’ His brow shot up at her amazed expression. ‘I see I have surprised you.’
‘It is just that men in general, that is, my brother—’ She suddenly looked stricken. ‘I beg your pardon.’
‘There is no need. I am not about to explode in a rage at the mention of your brother.’
‘I would hardly fault you if you did,’ she said in a small voice. She looked away, the animation drained from her countenance.
Now what was going on? With a sense of shock, it hit him that for some incomprehensible reason she seemed to think he cast some of the blame on her. ‘Sarah.’ He braced his hands on the table in front of her. ‘The whole damnable affair had nothing to do with you.’
She looked back at him, her eyes large and unhappy. ‘But it did.’
‘No. It did not.’ His eyes held hers. ‘I’ve no idea why you think that. I doubt very much that you encouraged your brother and Mary to fall in love with each other.’
‘No, I did not, but…’ She bit her lip.
‘But nothing. I have never blamed you for any of it, no matter what you seem to think.’ He straightened up and backed away. ‘I believe you said you wished to see the house. Shall we go?’
‘Yes.’ She rose slowly, but he could see she was still distressed. The anger he’d managed to quell threatened to rise to the surface. No matter how he tried to keep the affair in the past, it seemed determined to surface. He wondered if any of them would ever be free from it.
He realised Sarah was regarding him with an odd expression. He mentally shook himself. ‘Where shall we start? The drawing room?’
‘Yes, if you please.’ Her voice was subdued, as if she thought he was about to strike her.
Did she really fear him that much? ‘There’s no need to sound so afraid. I don’t know what damnable tales you’ve heard about me but I haven’t touched a woman yet. At least not in anger.’
‘I…I did not think that.’
‘Good. So there’s no need to defer to my wishes or fear expressing an opinion contrary to mine. In fact, I prefer that to cowed agreement.’ He stalked to the door. ‘So, is it agreeable to you if we start by looking at the drawing room?’
She looked completely taken aback. But when she finally spoke, her voice was calm. ‘Yes, I would like that.’
His mouth lifted in a slight smile. ‘That is much better.’
Sarah glanced over at Dev and realised she’d missed half of what he had just said. She forced her attention back to his words and away from the rich timbre of his voice as he explained something about the mantelpiece.
They stood in the saloon between the dining room and drawing room. She vaguely recalled Dev had said the large room was used as a ballroom. Now he moved towards the window, which, like the other two rooms, faced the back of the house. ‘You might have noticed that most of the ground-floor rooms lead directly to the garden.’
‘Well, yes.’
He turned to look at her. ‘My grandfather built this house in 1766, two years after the original house burned down. My grandfather had visited Edinburgh with my grandmother and saw a house designed by Sir Williams Chambers. My grandmother was so taken with the idea that one could step directly from the drawing room to the garden that she insisted this house be built in the same style. Of course, now this style is not quite so uncommon.’
‘Well, no. I suppose it would be nice to step directly into the garden.’ Had she ever realised that his eyes were really a fascinating mixture of browns and greens? Or that he had a slight indentation in his chin?
What was wrong with her? She yanked her thoughts back to architecture. It was only that she had never seen him this relaxed. As he took her through the rooms, he had lost his rather guarded look and his voice held none of the drawl she was so accustomed to. He suddenly appeared a great deal more approachable, which was proving extremely distracting.
‘Particularly when it is not raining. I do not think we will attempt that exercise today.’ He turned away from the window. ‘We’ve seen most of the ground floor. The upper floor has a sitting room directly above this room and more bedchambers. Is there anything else you’d like to see?’
There was not, but she did not want to quit his company yet. ‘Perhaps the long gallery that we must pass through? The one with the paintings. If I am not taking you away from your other duties.’
‘Not at all,’ he said politely. ‘Then we can have some nuncheon, if you’d like.’
She saw he was beginning to look rather tired. She bit back the urge to suggest he sit down. ‘A short visit, then. I am really quite hungry.’
His mouth quirked. ‘I’m not surprised. You ate very little last night, which very much disappointed Cook. Perhaps you’ll do more justice to this next meal.’
She smiled at him. ‘I will certainly try.’
A quarter of an hour later Sarah had nearly finished walking through the gallery, Dev beside her. He had started out by identifying the subject as well as the artist of most of the paintings, but as they progressed he’d become more silent. A glance at his pale face told her he was not particularly well, but she feared another one of his sardonic comments if she suggested they leave before she completed at least a cursory look at the wall.
She was about to tell him she was through when she spotted a series of exquisite landscapes. From their execution, they appeared to be by the same artist as the one in her bedchamber. She turned to Dev. ‘These small paintings. Who is the artist?’
‘My mother.’
‘Your mother?’ She looked at him, amazed. ‘I had no idea. They are beautiful. She did the one in my bedchamber, did she not?’
He nodded. ‘That one is of her home in Ireland. She painted these on a trip she took with my father to Italy. She was an artist. I scarcely remember seeing her without a sketch pad or pencil in her hand.’ He glanced down at her. ‘I believe you also like to draw. Do you paint as well?’
She made a face. ‘Yes, but I can hardly lay claim to such talent.’
He smiled. ‘She learned under some very excellent artists. After her marriage, my father continued to encourage her talent. He built a studio for her upstairs on the attic floor. Some of her works are still there.’
‘How very kind of your father.’
He looked away from her. ‘He was very much in love with my mother. He wanted her to be happy, particularly since her own family was not close at hand.’
They had something in common. And perhaps as she did, he hoped for love in marriage. She spoke without thinking. ‘My parents were in love also. I always thought such a marriage would be the most wonderful—’ She stopped, stricken by what she was about to say. For a moment, she had quite forgotten they were trapped together in a marriage neither one of them wanted.
‘Pray continue.’ His voice was cool. ‘Your habit of leaving unfinished thoughts is disconcerting. The most wonderful what?’
‘The most wonderful thing in the world,’ she said quietly.
His eyes hooded. ‘A dangerous notion.’
‘And probably very foolish.’ She forced herself to look at him calmly as if the conversation had nothing to do with them.
‘No, not for…’ He stopped, the colour mounting in his cheek. ‘Mrs Humphries will have a cold nuncheon laid for us. Perhaps we’d best eat.’
She nodded. They walked to the dining room in silence, both were careful to avoid the least contact with each other.
Sarah glanced over at Dev, who was seated across from her. They had eaten the cold meats and fruit in a silence that neither one seemed incline to break. Her appetite had fled again, but she had forced some of the meal down her throat, worried that, if all her meals went like this, she’d probably waste away within the month.
; Dev put down his fork and spoke. ‘When the weather improves my steward, Dalton, can show you the estate. I trust that you ride?’
‘Yes, I do.’ She kept her voice as cool as his.
‘If there is nothing in my stable that suits you, I will instruct Dalton to procure a more suitable mount,’ he said indifferently.
‘I doubt if you need to do that. I can ride almost anything.’
He raised a brow. ‘Almost anything? I find that hard to believe.’
There was no need for him to be so cynical about it. She considered riding one of her best accomplishments. ‘Yes, almost. Except for my brother’s half-broke colt. He shied at a squirrel and I fell and broke my arm. Although,’ she added, ‘I probably would not have fallen if I had used a saddle.’
A hint of a smile appeared at his mouth. ‘Undoubtedly not. How old were you when you undertook this adventure?’
‘Nearly fifteen.’ And too old for such unlady-like pranks, as her mother had scolded her when Sarah was brought in.
‘I hardly imagined you a hoyden.’ He started to look faintly amused.
‘I wasn’t, really,’ Sarah said. ‘Nicholas claimed no mere girl could possibly manage such a horse.’
‘And, of course, you set out to prove him wrong.’ His amusement had increased.
‘Well, yes.’ She blushed a little.
‘My lord, my lady.’ A footman appeared in the doorway. ‘You have a visitor. Lady Coleridge.’
‘I can show myself in, if you please.’ A tall, elegantly dressed woman stepped past the footman into the drawing room. Sarah’s heart slammed to a halt. Dev half-rose and muttered, ‘Hell.’
The visitor’s sharp glance took them in at once. ‘I see the rumours are true. I must admit I could hardly credit them, as I could not fathom a more unlikely coupling. However, Devin, I would have preferred to have the news directly from you rather than through a rather confusing letter from Beatrice.’
The Marriage Truce Page 9
