by Byrnes, Tess
“I do not require that you present yourself to me at all,” Sally informed him baldly, unimpressed by one of his lordship’s best moves. “In fact, I wish you will go away.”
“What?” he exclaimed in mock dismay. “Would you have me leave a maiden who is clearly in distress and in need of rescuing?”
“I am in need of nothing of the sort.”
“That’s what I love about you, Sally. You are so self reliant.” He advanced on her, and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. He bent his knees so that his eyes were on a level with hers. “But you needn’t be,” his voice caressed. “I’d be more than happy to take care of you.”
Sally’s eyes blazed at his familiarity and his infuriating inability to notice her lack of interest in him. “You mean you would be happy to take care of my fortune. And I have not given you leave to use my first name, Mr. Atherly,” she reminded him coldly.
An injured look came into Simon’s lovely blue eyes. “But Sally, we have been on a first name basis since we were children. It’s far too late for me to change that habit now.” He met her scorching glare for a full moment and then relented. Dropping his hands, he turned and threw himself onto the chair lately vacated by Sally, and appeared to lounge at his ease.
“So tell me how you come to be here, all alone and unprotected, at such an ungodly hour of the morning.” He steepled his fingers, placing the tips under his chin, crossed his ankles, and regarded her as if fascinated.
“If you must know, Beau strained a tendon or something last night on the way home from visiting with Patience. Miles was to walk him back to the Manor and send Tom in the gig to pick me up. I very much am afraid that Beau must have been more badly hurt than I thought, because they did not come for me. I am sure that someone will be by directly to collect me, though, so there is no need for any rescuing, and you can go about your business, sir.”
“For my part,” Simon ignored her last suggestion, “I left the Cartherson’s rout party early and went over to Giles’s for a few hands of piquet. The only person I went to the rout most especially to dance with was not there, you see.” He turned a soulful blue gaze upon Sally.
“More likely, you left when you realized that the Cartherson’s did not put out card tables,” Sally replied cynically.
A wicked smile lit Simon’s blue eyes. “How well you know me, Sally. You could always see through me, even when we were children. Why won’t you smile on my suit, m’dear?” He surveyed her closely, from her shining red-gold curls, her enchanting face, down to the pale blue evening frock she wore over a slim but shapely figure. He rose to his feet, and crossed the short distance between them quickly. He put a hand under her chin, tipping her face up so their eyes met. Her eyes sparkled angrily and she tried unavailingly to turn her face away.
“Pretty Sally, always so cold and aloof!” He dropped his hand and smiled. “And such a temper. But fate has favored me, and I shall be your knight errant.”
He turned and presented an arm to her, and Sally could smell the faint aroma of brandy on his breath. She was not alarmed, but Simon Atherly was unpredictable when he had been drinking.
“I think not, sir.’ Sally informed him. “Tom will be here with the gig at any moment.”
“I would be honored if you would allow me to take you home, Sally,” Simon bowed gracefully and held out one hand, stepping in her direction. “I’m in my carriage, so you needn’t fear the elements.”
The snow seemed like the least of her problems, Sally thought to herself, as she noted the implacable look in Simon’s blue eyes.
“Tom will be here directly, Mr. Atherly. If you will excuse me, I think I will just ask Barrow to bring me some coffee while I wait.” She moved towards the door, but Simon stepped adroitly between her and the exit.
“You’re out of luck there, Sally. Barrow is obliging me by loading some brandy into my carriage. We have a little arrangement, but I know you won’t betray me.” He gave her a conspiratorial smile, and leaned forward to take her hand and place it on his arm.
Sally considered her situation. Something must be seriously amiss for her family not to have come looking for her. Her options seemed to include further waiting while she sent a groom with a message to Denham Park, or allowing Simon to drive her home. Not really liking either option very well, Sally shrugged.
“Very well. I thank you, Mr. Atherly. I would appreciate it if you would convey me home.”
“There’s a smart girl,’ he intoned smugly. “Barrow should be done loading my brandy by now.” He picked up his great coat and flung it negligently over his shoulders. Holding out her cloak to her, he enquired, “En avant?”
Sally allowed him to place her cloak around her shoulders, and, retrieving her gloves from a table, she preceded him from the room and down the hallway to the front door. Simon pushed the door open, and Sally stepped out into the cold air. Her breath immediately formed little puffs around her mouth, and the chill seeped through her cloak.
She was grateful to see Simon’s well-sprung carriage waiting, the last of several small barrels being tied onto the back. Two handsome chestnut horses stamped their feet, clouds of mist around their aristocratic noses. In her hurry to get out of the cold, Sally did not see a patch of ice in her path, and as she stepped forward, her foot went out from under her, and she waved her arms trying to catch her balance.
She would have fallen had Simon not stepped nimbly forward and scooped her up into his arms.
“There,” he said triumphantly, cradling her easily in his arms. “Is that not much better?”
“For heaven’s sake, Mr. Atherly, put me down,” Sally fumed, struggling against his tight grasp.
“No, I don’t think I will,” Simon teased. “I quite like this situation. Besides, it is in keeping with my role as rescuer to carry you to the carriage.”
“Put me down at once,” Sally said between clenched teeth, her temper rising. “Or you will regret it.”
“Very well, but only if you call me by my first name,” he bargained.
Sally met his eyes, and was not in the slightest bit swayed by his handsome face and mischievous blue eyes. The smell of brandy was more apparent this close to him, and Simon had a stubborn look in his eyes that did not bode well.
“Simon,” she uttered coldly.
“There,” he laughed gently, his breath tickling her ear. “Was that so hard?”
Sally heard the sounds of a vehicle coming down the lane to the posting yard, and some of the tension left her body.
“Do you hear that?” she exclaimed, her eyes shooting shining in triumph. “That will be Tom in the gig. So you can just set me down, Mr. Atherly. Tom, as you might remember, is an extremely large and very loyal servant.”
“Then I’d better take advantage of my time while I have it. I have been wanting to do this for a very long time now.” Simon’s voice deepened and he lowered his head and captured Sally’s lips with his own.
Sally clenched her lips together against his probing tongue and tried unavailingly to turn her head. Her eyes narrowed and her hand formed into a small but serviceable fist. Not for nothing was Sally the possessor of two older brothers. With her thumb on the outside of her fist, as Harry had taught her, she pulled back her arm, and swung, connecting sharply with Simon’s shapely chin.
“Ow!” the surprised lord said, pulling his head away from Sally’s abruptly, eyeing her with much less favor. “Dammit, Sally, why did you do that? You made me bite my tongue.”
“Why do you think?” she asked, her fist still poised. “Now set me down before I do it again.”
“Gladly, miss,” Simon sulked.
Sally shook her head in disbelief at his conceit. He actually seemed surprised that she had hit him. She let her fist fall, but before he could set her feet on the ground a voice intruded.
“Sarah Denham!” A stout matron stood stock still in front of her carriage, impeding the egress of her equally stout spouse, whose head bobbed about behind her trying to get
a better view. Lady Greenly’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and her many chins wobbled in shocked amazement. She had been vociferously annoyed with her spouse who had insisted on conveying her to the Saracen’s Head to meet up with an old friend traveling through the county, but at this moment she was calling blessings down upon his head.
Lady Greenly instantly committed to memory the image of Sally Denham suspended in Simon Atherly’s manly arms. It was obvious that they were emerging from the Inn and heading for his carriage, and at a very early morning hour. Had they been there overnight? This was a more delicious scenario than Lady Greenly had ever hoped to see in her wildest dreams. She was already rehearsing the phrases she would use when she relayed this image to every one of her acquaintance. She would be shocked, and appalled, but not necessarily surprised that Miss Denham would behave so irresponsibly. The girl had such a temper, so impatient of rules, and had always been very forward.
Simon Atherly gaped at the matron, while Sally hissed at him to set her down. When he finally did so, Sally quickly straightening her gown, and pulled her cloak firmly about herself. She was unaware that her red-gold curls were tousled messily from sleeping in the chair, one tendril falling down across her shoulder, and that her blaze of anger had left a lovely flush on her cheeks that was open to misinterpretation.
“Lady Greenly,” she blurted in consternation, very aware that it behooved her to tread warily. To be found in such a compromising situation and by the biggest gossip in the entire village was the sheerest misfortune imaginable.
“I am shocked, Miss Denham,” the matron informed her in gleefully outraged tones. She could barely keep the grin from her face. “What would your Papa say to see you here in such a way. And Simon Atherly. For shame!”
Simon, a travesty of his urbane smile on his face, opened his mouth to speak, but no words emerged.
A positive giggle escaped Lady Greenly. Sally’s temper finally came to her rescue. “There is nothing untoward going on, Lady Greenly,” she assured the happy matron in quelling tones. “My horse was lamed, and I stopped here to wait for my servant to come in the gig. Something must have happened to delay them, and I passed the night here. Alone. Mr. Atherly arrived but a few minutes before you and offered to convey me home. It’s really very simple.”
Lady Greenly nodded with false sympathy. “Just as you say, my dear,” she tittered. She exchanged a glance with her husband, who had finally extricated himself from the carriage. A look that plainly showed her disbelief and glee.
For the third time that morning Sally heard a conveyance pull into the posting house yard. If it was not Tom this time, Sally was determined to walk the whole way back to the Manor.
She pulled her cloak more closely about herself, putting up one hand to brush her disheveled curls back. The very tardy Tom pulled the gig into place behind the Greenly’s carriage, and jumped down.
“Miss Sarah, I am ever so glad to see you,” he exclaimed. “There was ever so much trouble up at the manor.”
“That’s fine, Tom,” Sally said, with a quelling look. “We’ll discuss it at home.” Her forced smile softened the words, and Tom let down the step to hand her up into the gig.
Sally turned with one foot on the step, casting an appealing glance at Lady Greenly.
“I am sure I can count on your discretion in this matter, Lady Greenly,” she said hopefully. “My presence here last evening was the result of an accident to my carriage, as you can see by my groom’s presence. Mr. Atherly arrived just before you yourself, and offered to escort me home.”
Lady Greenly’s face assumed a look of false understanding, and she clucked her tongue sympathetically. “I understand completely, Miss Denham,” she assured Sally in saccharine tones. “I wouldn’t betray your confidence for the world. You can rely upon my discretion!”
But Lady Greenly had not kept her word. Whisperings began immediately, and then louder rumors. Sally, who had been the most sought-after partner in the neighborhood, was left without a single partner at the next ball she attended. Her mother, who had great hopes for finding a brilliant match for her daughter, started to realize that her daughter would be lucky with any match at all. She banished her daughter to the schoolroom at Denham Park, and it was there she came to find her on the day that Sally made her fateful decision.
Lady Denham was still a very handsome woman at fifty years of age. Of her three children, she was most proud of Harry, her oldest son, and smiled upon his wildness. Harry had made his debut several years earlier, and figured as a handsome and very wild young man about town. He rarely came into the country, except to hunt, or attend a prize-fight. But high spirits were tolerated in good-looking and wealthy young men who moved in the highest circles.
Her second son, Rupert, was equally handsome, but had a quieter nature and a preference for country life. He had no love for society parties, and would much rather spend his time hunting, fishing and riding on the estate, a tendency that his mother could not understand and did not like. He, too, had been presented, but now spent all but the high season at Denham Park. Lady Denham did not have a close relationship with her daughter, but she was pleased that she was a pretty girl, and had been looking forward to achieving a brilliant match for her. The knowledge that her daughter had been found by Lady Greenly, of all people, in a situation that looked for all the world as if she had spent a clandestine night at an inn in the company of a man, had been enough to wipe out the last vestiges of her regard for her daughter. The fact that she believed in Sally’s innocent explanation changed nothing. As she looked upon her daughter now, Lady Denham felt nothing but disgust.
Hiding these emotions, as she hid all her emotions, Lady Denham spoke. “Your father wishes to see you immediately, Sarah.”
“Yes, Mama. What does Papa want to say to me?” Sally asked, gripping her hands together.
“I imagine he will tell you that himself.” Her tone was cold and Lady Denham had already turned to the door. She left the room without further conversation, and Sally ran lightly down the stairs to her father’s library.
“You wanted to speak with me, Papa?” she asked. Viscount Denham sat in his habitual place, in the imposing brown leather chair that reposed behind the handsome oak desk that was piled high with all his favorite tomes. He was fifteen years older than his wife, but was still vigorous, and an intrepid rider. Denham was a peer with the attribute of wealth, which had attracted to him a wife with impressive social aspirations. Where her mother preferred her handsome sons, Sally’s father had always been the parent who gave attention to the couple’s only daughter. He had been the one who encouraged her brothers to let her join their games, and had been her advocate and supporter. He had always been strict, but fair, and even in this extreme scrape, Sally was confidant that her stern Papa would stand beside her and weather the storm with her.
He was smiling at her now, and while there was sadness in his smile, there was also a great deal of love. He seemed to have aged drastically in the last few weeks.
“Oh Papa,” Sally began contritely. “I do apologize for putting you in this horrid situation.” But the words died on her lips as she recognized the other occupant of the room.
Simon Atherly, gorgeously attired in a well-cut riding jacket, tight-fitting buckskins and shining riding boots, his blond hair in careful seeming disarray, stood silhouetted against the French doors. He looked very handsome, entirely at his ease, and he flashed a practiced smile.
“Hallo, Sally.”
Unable to think of anything to say that could be uttered in front of her father, Sally regarded him coldly and said nothing.
Lord Denham cleared his throat. “Ahem. Sally, Mr. Atherly has come here today to ask you a very important question.”
An inkling of the truth dawned in Sally’s astonished mind. Surely her father did not think that she would accept an offer of marriage from Simon Atherly of all people?
Her father stood up and came around the side of the desk taking both of his daughte
r’s hands in his own. “He has asked my permission to pay his addresses to you, and I have given my consent.”
“But, Papa!” Sally exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief. She got no further as her father placed a finger on her lips.
“No, you must listen to me, child. I know I can speak plainly in front of Simon. He and I have had a very frank conversation about the situation in which we find ourselves, and he agrees with me that this is the only honorable course of action.”
Sally spun around and glared at Lord Atherly. “What have you to say about honorable actions, Mr. Atherly.”
Simon straightened his shoulders and regarded her with a smirk. “Why, that we will suit very well, Sally,” he responded calmly. “Lord Denham, will you allow me a few moments alone with my affianced wife?”
Sally choked at the appellation, but the Viscount nodded. “I see no harm in that.”
Under normal circumstances Sally would have caviled, but she had a few choice words for Simon Atherly that would be best spoken without a witness, so she stood without comment as her father left the room. Once the door was firmly closed behind him, she turned and faced Simon.
“Now Sally,” Simon began. “We really have no choice, either of us. I didn’t expect to get leg-shackled at the age of twenty-four, and certainly not to a nineteen year old chit who has not even had her first season. But we were fairly caught, you know.”
“I would rather die an old maid,” Sally informed him baldly. “I do not accept your obliging offer, Mr. Atherly.”
“May as well call me Simon now,” he uttered sardonically. “I won’t say I didn’t have the exact same reaction when your father and mine informed me that I could consider myself betrothed to you. Not that you’re not a prime piece, but I had no notion of becoming a tenant for life this young. I wanted to play the field a bit before settling down, but you know that I’ve always had my eye on you. I’ve reconciled myself, and you had better do the same.”
