Forever After (The Forever Series #3)

by Cheryl Holt

  Sarah hemmed and hawed, then finally admitted, “My cousin is here.”

  “Your cousin? Who is he?”

  “It’s a she: Lady Middlebury? Desdemona Henley?”

  Mildred scowled. “I met her, and I don’t like her.”

  Sarah chuckled miserably. “She’s not very likeable.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “It wasn’t any comment in particular. There’s just bad blood between us, and she’s amused by my having to work for a living. She finds it hilarious.”

  “That’s cruel of her.”

  “Yes, she can be very cruel.”

  Mildred stared at Sarah, letting the silence play out. Typically, the other person in a conversation couldn’t bear a quiet pause and would chatter like a magpie. Not Sarah though. She merely studied her brandy, her brow creased with concern.

  “Mrs. Ford told me several details about you,” Mildred said.

  “I suppose she would have.”

  “She hinted that you had been raised in the highest levels of society and that you’d received a stellar upbringing and education.”

  “She’s correct.”

  “She recommended you above every other girl at her company.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Apparently, your family had suffered a calamity, and it wrecked everything for you.”

  “Yes.”

  Mildred waited and waited, but Sarah could have been a deaf mute. She was that reticent about sharing any information.

  “Where are your parents?”

  “They died in an accident. At sea. Their ship sank.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen, turning fifteen.”

  “Who was your father?”

  The interval stretched on forever, and Mildred could practically see the wheels spinning in Sarah’s mind as she struggled to devise a response. Why wouldn’t she simply state his name? Was he infamous?

  “Was he a criminal?” Mildred inquired.

  “No!”

  “Was he a notorious character? Was he involved in a scandal?”

  “He was…no one of any account.”

  “No one?” Mildred snorted. “You’re so remarkable. Are you claiming a man of no account sired you? Don’t denigrate his memory. I refuse to allow it.”

  “His identity doesn’t matter.”

  “You little liar. Confess your secrets this instant.”

  “Mrs. Ford wouldn’t like it.”

  “The old cow will never know. Who would tell her? You? Me?” Another lengthy silence tormented them, and Mildred asked, “Do you trust me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then trust me with your secret.” But Sarah didn’t speak up, and Mildred said, “Now that you mention you’re related to the Henley family, I remember being acquainted with a Henley back when I was in school. I’m certain her maiden name was Barrington. Margaret Barrington.”

  “Oh.”

  “She was wed to Lord Middlebury.”

  “Yes.”

  “You look just like her.”

  “I’ve heard that.”

  “She and her husband died in an accident. At sea—while sailing from Rome. Their son, Hayden, perished too.” Still, Sarah was aggravatingly mum. “Will you deny them, Sarah? Will you disavow them to me? To what end?”

  “Lord and Lady Middlebury were my parents. Hayden was my brother.”

  “You use Barrington…why? The Henley name is renowned around the kingdom. You should shout it to the world.”

  “Mrs. Ford thought it best. She was afraid if a potential employer learned who I was, it would skew the lines of authority.”

  “I imagine that would be true—if you’d been hired by an idiot.”

  “And who would want to declare a connection to Jasper and Desdemona?”

  “Who indeed?” Mildred scoffed with derision. “You’re an earl’s daughter.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your cousin, Jasper, inherited.”

  “Yes.”

  “He set you adrift? He didn’t offer you support?”

  “No. He insisted my father was a spendthrift, and the property was bankrupt. He said our dowries were gone, and there wasn’t a penny in the estate coffers.”

  Mildred huffed with indignation. “Why, I won’t listen to such folderol! I didn’t know your father, but I knew your mother. She wouldn’t have wed him unless he was a fine man.”

  “He was a very fine man, and I never believed Jasper, but I didn’t have the money or power to fight him.”

  “Of course you didn’t, and you were a child besides.”

  “Yes, and anyway it was mostly Desdemona’s doing. She wouldn’t let Jasper assist us.”

  “Who is us?”

  “I have two sisters, Abigail and Catherine.”

  “I’m sure they’re as lovely and competent as you are so Desdemona couldn’t have you stay on. She’d have continually been compared to the three of you, and she’d have been recognized for the fool she is.”

  Sarah grinned wickedly. “That’s always been our opinion.”

  “Where are your sisters?”

  “We all work through Mrs. Ford. Abigail is a governess, and Catherine is a lady’s companion like me.”

  “There was no one to help you? No one to step in and furnish any aid?”

  “No. There was no one.”

  Then and there, Mildred decided she’d plot and finagle so Sarah wound up wed to a suitable gentleman. Mildred would see to it.

  “Could we…ah…head to Bath sooner than we planned?” Sarah inquired.

  “Why? So you can avoid your cousin?”

  “Well…yes. I hate to ask, but she and I are like oil and water, and our animosity will cause trouble. I’d be so embarrassed if we had a quarrel.”

  “Was she horrid to you when you were out on the verandah?”

  “Very horrid.”

  “She seems incredibly proud to me.”

  “Yes, she’s proud, and she likes to rub it in that she’s living the life that should have been mine.”

  “Vain witch,” Mildred muttered.

  She’d only spoken to Lady Middlebury for a few seconds. She’d been playing cards, and Clayton had escorted the woman into the room and introduced her to everyone. She’d nodded and condescended as if she was a queen dispensing favors to her lowly subjects. But she was homely and fat, and apparently she hadn’t noticed her increasing girth because her clothes barely fit. She was pushing forty, but trying to dress as if she was twenty. Mildred had despised her on the spot.

  “I don’t wish to leave for Bath just yet,” she said.

  Sarah’s shoulders slumped, but she quickly regrouped. “That’s fine. It was brash of me to ask if we could depart. I shouldn’t have bothered you about it.”

  “I don’t consider your request to be brash. It was a fair suggestion, and I’m glad you felt free to raise it. I can’t abide trembling ninnies so you should always be candid.”

  “I will be.”

  “We won’t flee early,” Mildred firmly stated, “merely because I refuse to let your cousin chase you away. I won’t give her the satisfaction.”

  “It irks me to give her any satisfaction too.”

  “Are we agreed? We’ll remain for the whole week, and you will constantly irritate her with your sunny, pretty presence. You will smile and dance and socialize. It will drive her mad with rage.”

  “You know her well.”

  “We’ll force her to stew in her own juice.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  Mildred gulped her drink, then stood. “I’m going downstairs. I won five pounds from Lord Pendergast, and I intend to win five more. Will you join me?”

  “I need to think about it.”

  “Don’t be daft, and that wasn’t really a question. It was an order. You will not cower up here like a frightened ninny.”

&nbs
p; “I’m not frightened or cowering.” Sarah’s eyes flashed with fury. “I’m so angry I’d like to claw the smug expression off her face.”

  “I’m delighted to hear it. Put your clothes on—in fact pick out your most fetching gown—and I’ll expect you in thirty minutes. If you don’t show up, I’ll have to come and drag you down, and I’m certain that rogue, Michael Fenwick, cheats. He’ll steal all my pennies while I’m away from the table.”

  “I’ll be down shortly. I promise.”

  Mildred marched to the door and yanked it open. “Thirty minutes, Sarah.”

  “I won’t keep you waiting.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, that dashing Mr. Swift will be watching for you. I predict he’s smitten already.”

  “He’s the man who was out at the lake, the one I thought was your nephew.”

  “Was he?” Mildred’s brows rose. “My, my, I can picture how he’d look without his shirt. I hope he removes it again while I’m in residence. If you stumble on him in the future when he’s unclad, you must locate me immediately so I can see him too.”

  Sarah laughed. “I will, and yes, he looked quite grand without his shirt.”

  “I’m positive he would.”

  Mildred walked out, thinking Clayton’s party had gotten a lot more interesting. She was eager to discover how it would all unfold, and no matter what she wouldn’t permit that shrew, Desdemona Henley, to hurt Sarah. Mildred would protect her as if she were her own daughter. It would be no problem at all.

  Oh, how she loved flirtation and romance! All of it had passed her by, and she wished she was still twenty and could have an amour of her own. Well, she’d like to be twenty, but to be as rich and wise as she currently was.

  Now wouldn’t that be a priceless combination?

  * * * *

  Nicholas was at the buffet table when Miss Barrington strolled in.

  After her tiff with Lady Middlebury, she’d stomped off to her room, and he hadn’t imagined she’d reappear. He was thrilled by her arrival. In his view, she was the only intriguing female at the gathering—except for Mildred Farnsworth. But Mildred was older and wealthy so she intrigued him for other reasons.

  The first set was finished, and he’d partnered with the strumpet Lord Pendergast had brought from London. He’d cleverly avoided having to dance with Lady Middlebury. He liked to befriend affluent, stupid women. They were so easy to seduce and to manipulate, but she was annoying him with her demanding nature.

  She was seeking adventure and excitement outside her marriage to doltish Jasper, and she was feeling her age and yearning to be a decade younger. Her adulterous sights were locked on Nicholas, and eventually she’d end up giving him all sorts of things she shouldn’t.

  He was tantalized to learn Miss Barrington was a Henley cousin. Before Jasper had inherited his title, the Henley family had been exalted and esteemed. Jasper had run the estate and the earldom into the ground, but Nicholas declined to believe that all the assets were squandered. He wondered if there was any money trailing in Sarah’s wake, and if there was he ought to find out how much it might be.

  She was wearing a new dress, having donned one that was a pretty pink color. It highlighted the blond of her hair and the sapphire of her eyes so they seemed more purple than blue.

  The sleeves were short and the neckline scooped lower than on her prior gown so she was displaying much more bosom than a companion would normally dare to reveal. There was a distinct gleam about her too, as if circumstances had altered when she’d been upstairs. She was gorgeous and happy and determined in a fashion she hadn’t previously been.

  She noticed him staring, and she sauntered over. She didn’t stop until she was close enough that her skirt swirled around his leg.

  When they’d chatted on the verandah, she’d been snooty and rude, having been incensed by his behavior out at the lake. He couldn’t figure out why he’d taunted her there. He’d assumed she was her sister, Catherine, but that was no excuse. The more likely answer was that he simply spent all his time with trollops, and he’d forgotten how to treat a lady.

  “Hello, Mr. Swift.” She astonished him by grabbing his glass of punch and downing the contents. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Yes, fancy that. I thought you’d abandoned us for the evening.”

  “I changed my mind. Actually, Mildred ordered me to return. I work for her so I could hardly refuse.”

  His naughty gaze travelled down her torso in an inappropriate way. “Your brief respite did you a world of good. All of a sudden, you’re quite stunning.”

  “All of a sudden?” She smirked. “I’m sure that’s not what you meant. I’m sure you mean I’ve always been stunning.”

  He grinned. “I stand corrected. I take it you’ve decided you don’t loathe me.”

  “No, I don’t loathe you.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Mildred saw us talking, and she declares you to be smitten. She insists I allow you to charm me.”

  “If that’s the case, then I have to admit she’s brilliant.”

  “She is.” Sarah leaned even nearer so her leg was touching his. “How are you acquainted with Desdemona?”

  “Just socially. I’ve known her for several months.”

  “In London?”

  “Yes, but I’ve attended parties at Middlebury too.”

  “Are you having an affair with her?”

  “Gad, no.” He gave a mock shudder. “I have a few standards.”

  “She’s awfully possessive of you.”

  “She thinks she’s exceptional so she presumes everyone else thinks so too.”

  In the other room, the orchestra struck up the chords to announce the next set, although orchestra was a misnomer. It consisted of a violin, harpsichord, and flute.

  She raised a brow. “You asked me to dance, Mr. Swift. Is your invitation still valid? Don’t tell me some other girl has already claimed you.”

  “Even if she had, I’d break her heart and step out with you instead.”

  “That’s precisely what I hoped to hear, and you must flirt like mad. It’s Mildred’s command that you be brazen and doting and overly solicitous.”

  “I’m delighted to oblige you, but when we last spoke you chastened me for being an irredeemable cad. What rendered such a radical modification?”

  “I plan to goad Desdemona into a jealous frenzy.”

  He chuckled. “You brashly confess it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I like your style, Miss Barrington. She deserves to be brought down a peg or two.”

  “My feeling exactly.” She scowled and inquired, “You can dance, can’t you?”

  “I’m nimble as an acrobat,” he bragged.

  “Perfect. We should be so compatible out on the floor that Desdemona will worry about how often we’ve been together in the past.”

  “We’ll have her fuming in no time at all.”

  “Don’t disappoint me, Mr. Swift.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Barrington.”

  “You must call me Sarah.”

  “I definitely will.”

  “Especially if Desdemona is eavesdropping.”

  He laughed. “You have a wicked streak a mile long, Sarah. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  “You might be surprised by what I’m inclined to do.”

  “I’m a man who likes surprises.”

  She whipped away and started off. He followed her, studying how her bottom brushed the fabric of her skirt. She was thin but shapely, curved in all the right spots. And of course, she was so incredibly pretty. With all that blond hair and those blue eyes! Well!

  Did she understand the dangers she faced with her mischief? Her cousin, Lady Middlebury, was envious and resentful. She’d been dangling a liaison with Nicholas, and Nicholas had kept her at bay with hints of feigned interest.

  He would only proceed to a dalliance if he could glean a way to
make some money off it. There had to be a benefit for him. Otherwise, why bother? He was an orphan with no family and no prospects, and he earned his income by gambling and other devious means.

  Lady Middlebury and her husband were always scrounging for farthings. They both wagered more than they could afford to lose, and she had developed a problem with the opium pipe. So far, he hadn’t deduced what she could possibly furnish that he would like or need to have.

  Should he let Sarah insert herself into the dreary scenario? Probably not, but he wasn’t about to dissuade her.

  They arrived in the dancing room, and they took their places in the line. The next half hour passed quickly as they marched through the steps with the other participants. They had little opportunity to chat. Mostly, they’d twirl in circles or hold hands as they promenaded down the center.

  Occasionally, Desdemona watched them from the corner. She’d leave for a bit, then slither back, trying to be inconspicuous about her elevated attention.

  If Sarah noticed her, she provided no indication.

  When the music ended, he had no idea what Sarah expected to happen, but he wasn’t about to loiter at the buffet table and sip punch. As if they were adolescent sweethearts, he linked their fingers and led her out onto the verandah and down into the garden.

  There were lamps lit on the paths, and they guided him to where he yearned to be. He didn’t slow until they’d located a spot that was dark and quiet, and they were very much alone.

  It was a balmy summer night, the perfect weather for a house party. The moon was up, clouds drifting by. He pulled her into his arms, being delighted when she snuggled herself to his chest.

  “Have I survived my first test?” he asked her. “May I be declared a competent dancer?”

  “Oh, yes, you’re an excellent dancer.”

  They could have engaged in further banter, but he wasn’t about to waste his chance. He dipped in and kissed her, and she didn’t raise a whimper of protest.

  There was no awkwardness about it. He sampled her lovely mouth, thrilled by how their bodies fit together. He was riveted by the shape of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach, her rounded thighs tangled with his own.

  He’d intended a swift embrace, but rapidly he was in over his head. Usually, he wasn’t much of a one for kissing. He dabbled with trollops so kissing simply delivered them to the next level where he was always determined to be.