Sweet Temptation

by Leigh Greenwood

  “How … When …?” she began, desperately looking about for some support. But there was no one else in the carriage; she was alone with her husband.

  “I carried you,” he said, but there was a different quality in his voice now, one that lessened her fear.

  “I fainted?”

  “Quite completely.”

  “You must have been embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was almost funny. For a moment I thought the priest was going to follow your example, but the fuss kicked up by that schoolmistress quite restored him. How did you manage to live under her control for eleven years without wanting to murder her?”

  “She’s really quite kind,” Sara said, conveniently forgetting the many times she had quaked in fear or quivered with rage after one of Miss Adelaide’s rebukes.

  “I’m glad she wasn’t head at my school. By the way, do you really intend to introduce that spindly female into my father’s household? I should have thought you’d need stilts to talk with her.” Sara managed a weak smile.

  “Betty is the only friend I have. I won’t feel quite so alone with her around.” Gavin’s feelings softened even more. “Besides, I don’t know anything about being a countess, or any other kind of great lady, and if I asked you all the things I wanted to know, you would soon be out of patience with me.”

  Gavin was surprised to find himself smiling. “There will be lots of people to help you. My mother is too ill, but there’s the housekeeper, her nurse, or Olivia Tate. She’s mother’s companion. She’s a terrible busybody. She’ll give you her opinion whether you want it or not.”

  “But I do,” Sara insisted quite genuinely. “I know I should make the most awful mistakes by myself. I intend to study quite hard to see that I don’t embarrass you, or the Earl, or the Countess,” she added. “You’ve all been so kind to me.”

  Gavin wondered how grateful she would be if anyone had ever been truly kind to her, and he felt another pang of guilt.

  “You won’t have to worry about anything for a while. We won’t go about much or hold entertainments while my mother is so ill. We always go to Scotland for the summer, but until then you will meet a very restricted circle.” He smiled without warning. “You are not required to accompany me when I go out, and at times you are actually forbidden to do so. You will have more than enough time to become acquainted with the ways of fashionable London.”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard with you to help me,” she said more comfortably, having at last become almost at ease with Gavin. Maybe she had mistaken the look in his eyes in the church. He was certainly charming now.

  But some of the warmth went out of Gavin’s eyes at Sara’s last words. “I doubt I will be home much,” he said rather stiffly. “I have rooms on Jermyn Street. My father and I are unable to live under the same roof.”

  “How terrible for you,” answered Sara, utterly at a loss to understand this latest disclosure. “My father and I were the very best of friends. I miss him quite dreadfully sometimes.” She paused a moment then added, “Am I not to live with you?”

  “That would not be advisable.”

  “Why not?” she asked, and Gavin cursed her inquisitiveness.

  “Because the rooms are not set up to accommodate a female,” he said, driven against the ropes.

  “Couldn’t you take new rooms or even hire a house?”

  “That wouldn’t make any sense, would it, not with Parkhaven House having fifty rooms and enough servants to handle a dozen new brides.”

  “But won’t it cause talk if we live under separate roofs?”

  She may have been closed up in a school half her life, Gavin thought, but she knows how to get to the center of an issue.

  “I will only stay away when my father and I are on the worst of terms.”

  Sara attempted to digest this. It seemed a reasonable solution, particularly since the Countess’s illness must be a great strain on both men’s tempers, but she was still certain that something was not right.

  “Do you still go to Scotland for Christmas?” she asked, changing to a less dangerous topic of conversation. “I’ve never forgotten my trips to Estameer.” The rest of the ride was beguiled with small talk of visits Gavin barely remembered, and they arrived at Parkhaven House with Sara feeling much more relaxed with her new husband, and Gavin feeling less determined to ignore her existence.

  The interview with the Countess nearly reduced Sara to tears; it was obvious, even to her inexperienced eyes, that the kind-hearted woman had only a short time to live. She required the support of both Rose and Olivia to sit up, but her indomitable spirit could not be contained.

  “Come here child and give me a kiss,” Georgiana said, beckoning Sara to her bedside. The frail hand grasped Sara’s, and she could sense the weakness of the body. The Countess’s sunken cheeks were incredibly soft, and she smelled faintly of jasmine.

  “It’s been such a long time,” Georgiana said, letting her hand drop. “Stand back and let me look at you. Hold the light where I can see her, Rose.” The old nurse held the lamp next to Sara’s face, and Sara read the truth in the eyes around her. Only Gavin seemed unaware of the severity of his mother’s condition.

  “You look so much like Meribel, but you’ve got your father’s smile. He was always such a cheerful man, even after your mother’s death.”

  “It won’t hurt my feelings if you say I can’t hold a candle to Mama,” Sara said. “I have all of Papa’s likenesses of her, and I know I’m not nearly as pretty as she was.”

  “Maybe not in the classical sense, but you’ve got a smile that will mean more to you than the most perfect features. Remember that whenever things are going badly, and you’ll be surprised what a difference it will make.” The Countess beckoned Sara to come closer and lean her ear next to the invalid’s mouth. “Especially with the men,” she added with a faint smile. “Always smile at the men, and you’ll get your way in just about everything.”

  The Countess paused for a moment, seeming to wait for her strength to return. Rose hovered anxiously at her side, but the Countess motioned for her to step back. “I want to talk with my daughter-in-law in private.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you married to Gavin,” she continued after a moment. “I knew from that first day, when all you could see was a brave young man instead of a foolish little boy, that you would make him a perfect wife. Men don’t like to be criticized, no matter how imprudently they behave, and Gavin’s no different from other men in that respect. Love him, and try not to let the hurtful things that will happen destroy your contentment. You’ll be much happier for it in the end.” Sara hardly knew how to respond to the Countess’s advice. She didn’t have any idea what it was she was supposed to ignore, but the Countess saved her the trouble of making a reply.

  “Now let me speak to my son,” she said.

  “If you don’t talk secrets with me, I’m going to be jealous,” Gavin said, as he took his mother’s hand and knelt at her side. It was easy to see how deeply he loved his mother, and that caused Sara to love him all the more.

  “Don’t be absurd. I may love your bride, but you’ll always have first place in my heart. However, a beautiful little grandchild might be a threat to your position.” The Countess’s eyes were too tired to see Gavin’s eyes grow cold, but Sara did, and it frightened her a little.

  “Then I’m safe for a while at least.”

  “You always will be,” his mother smiled fondly, “but now you’ve got someone else to care for, and it’s time you changed your ways. I don’t mean for you to give up all your pleasures, but from now on you’ll have to be thinking of two people instead of one.” Georgiana lay back, breathing with difficulty. Rose glanced significantly at the Earl and he nodded.

  “Maybe you will allow me to offer them the good advice they are bound to ignore,” the Earl said to his wife. “Now I’m going to take them away so you can get some rest and Sara can get unpacked.”

  “Come
again after dinner,” said Georgiana without raising her head. “There’s so much I want to talk to you about.”

  “Only if ye have a good nap,” said Rose. “We all know ye get overtired when ye talk too much.”

  Georgiana nodded her head slightly and closed her eyes. “It seems all I ever do is rest, and still I’m so tired.”

  Rose jerked her head imperatively toward the door and the young people left the room.

  “He’ll be all right now,” Georgiana said, addressing her husband without opening her eyes. “She’ll see that he comes to no harm.”

  “Of course he’ll be all right,” her husband agreed reassuringly, but he remembered the anger in Gavin’s eyes and wondered.

  Sara sat before her mirror while Betty combed her hair. She could hardly believe this huge room was hers alone. She had spent years in a tiny cubicle that wasn’t as large as the dressing room of this enormous apartment. The bed was even long enough for Betty. All of Sara’s new clothes had virtually disappeared among the endless shelves of the vast closet. She could not imagine having enough clothes to occupy all the storage space, and if she had, she didn’t know how she would possibly find time to wear them.

  She had walked about in a daze, peering into corners and trying out chairs; while Betty had unpacked and put away her clothes. “It must be wonderful to be a countess, if you can have a room like this,” she said to Betty, as she sank onto the bed, luxuriating in the deep, soft mattresses.

  “It depends upon your lord,” Betty pointed out. “It won’t do you a particle bit of good to have a string of titles, if you don’t have money and connections.” Sara sat up with a puzzled frown.

  “Do you mean if I had been poor, nobody would have wanted to marry me?”

  “Not with you as near to an orphan as makes no difference. What would they get by it?”

  “But my husband would love me?”

  “The upper class doesn’t look for love where they marry.”

  “But I love Gavin.”

  “You’re lucky. Most people marry where it will do them the most good, and look for love later.”

  “Is that why the girls at school never bothered with me?”

  “That, and because your father made his money in trade.”

  “But Gavin married me, and he’s important.”

  “His father and yours were in business together. You might say you’re both tarred with the same brush.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Miss Rachel told me. She said someone ought to know.”

  Sara chewed on her finger for a while, deep in thought. “Then people won’t accept me.”

  “I don’t know. I suppose if your husband is accepted, you will be, too. But you can never tell about women. Just imagine those snobbish young misses at Miss Rachel’s all grown up, and you can see what you’ll be up against.”

  Sara was thoughtful. “Then, if I do something they don’t like, they might never accept me.”

  “Probably,” said Betty noncommittally.

  Sara did not mention the subject again, but it never left her mind during the rest of the afternoon.

  Dinner was a strain. The Earl seemed to feel it was his responsibility to carry the weight of the conversation, but his cold, formal style of speaking inhibited Sara, and she barely said a word the whole time. Gavin’s foul mood made the tension even worse. Being in his father’s company had revived all the anger and rigidity in his temper, and by the time they rose from the table, Sara was almost afraid to address any remark to him.

  She was relieved when she was allowed to remove to the drawing room. She noticed the harpsichord immediately, but as she expected the men to join her shortly, she busied herself with some needlework. After half an hour, boredom caused her to throw it aside and approach the harpsichord. It was a magnificent instrument, much more beautiful than the harpsichord at Miss Rachel’s Seminary. Lovingly she stroked the polished wood, before gingerly lifting the cover to the keyboard. The gleaming ebony and ivory keys drew her fingers irresistibly, and she strummed a chord.

  “Would ye like me tae open the instrument for ye?” Sara had not heard the footman enter, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Yes, if you would, please. Does anyone play it?” she asked.

  “Nay, excepting Miss Tate once in a great while. No one regular since the mistress has taken tae her bed.” The man raised the top, and brought an embroidery-covered seat from where it stood against the wall. The inside of the top was most wondrously painted with a delightful hunting scene, at total variance with the heavy formality of the room.

  “I dinna think there be any music for it,” he said.

  “I don’t need any,” Sara replied. She sat down at the instrument almost reverently, and then she began to play, slowly at first, and then with increasing confidence and speed, until her fingers were racing over the glossy keys in a blur. The majestic tones filled the huge salon, rushing to the far end of the room and back again. Sara had never played such a magnificent instrument, and she soon became lost in the glorious power of its two keyboards.

  This was a world where she was in control, where she knew what would happen next. Gradually she forgot the terrors of the day and gave herself up to her music. For the moment at least, it was all that mattered.

  Sara didn’t know how long she had been playing when, during a pause, a voice from somewhere behind her drew her roughly out of her abstraction.

  “I see you have been well instructed. If you perform as well in other endeavors, Gavin will indeed be a lucky man.” Sara smiled nervously at the Earl.

  “I couldn’t resist,” she explained, rising from the harpsichord. “It is such a lovely instrument.”

  “Play it as often as you like.”

  “But it belongs to the Countess.”

  “She is no longer able to use it herself. It might as well be yours.”

  “I could never accept anything so grand.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t offer it to you,” observed the Earl dryly. He moved toward a chair, and waited until Sara had taken her seat before he took his.

  “Will Gavin join us?” she asked nervously. The Earl’s expression did not change, but Sara would have been ready to swear he flinched.

  “Gavin has departed for what I fear can best be described as bachelor revels. It is a barbarous custom, but one which has lasted from my day.”

  “He will return?” She was barely able to form the words.

  “Yes, no doubt in considerably worse condition than when he left, but strive to accustom yourself to it. He will regularly come to your bed the worse for drink.” Sara struggled to keep her countenance. She had not had the courage, even in her own mind, to face the fact that this was her wedding night. The Earl rose.

  “I regret that it is not possible for you to visit the Countess again this evening. She finds these interviews extremely fatiguing. I suggest you return to your chamber and prepare yourself to receive your husband.”

  Sara looked stricken.

  “I shall have a footman escort you.” Sara mumbled her thanks and sat numbed, like a lamb being led to the slaughter, until the servant came to take her to her room.

  Chapter 7

  Betty made Sara ready for bed, but the relaxed feeling that had always existed between them was absent tonight. This was an experience they could not share, and for the moment it stood between them like a high, stone wall. Sara felt tongue-tied, and she allowed Betty to undress her and brush out her hair in silence. Only when Betty had turned back the bed and was passing the warming pan between the sheets did Sara break the silence.

  “Have you ever been with a man?” she asked, turning abruptly to Betty.

  “Merciful heavens, Miss, I mean your ladyship,” Betty corrected herself, “how can you ask a respectable girl a thing like that?” She was so startled by the question, she nearly turned the coals in the warming pan out onto the bed. “I’m a decent girl and always have been.”

>   “That’s what everybody says,” muttered Sara. “The way the girls at Miss Adelaide’s talked, you’d think being with a man was the most awful thing that could happen to a female. If it’s so terrible before you’re married, why is it all right afterwards?”

  “It’s all right as long as he’s your husband.”

  “But suppose you married him later?”

  “Didn’t Miss Rachel tell you anything?” inquired Betty.

  “Nobody did.”

  “I don’t guess she knows,” said Betty half to herself, “and you can bet those flighty young things don’t know any more than fairy tales either. It’s because of having babies.”

  “Having babies?” repeated Sara, completely lost.

  “Being with a man causes you to have babies, and of course, that’s a thing you wouldn’t want to have happen without you were married.”

  “No,” agreed Sara, struck. “But how does it happen?”

  “I don’t know,” Betty said rather severely. “And don’t you even think of asking the Countess such a question. It’s not a fit thing for a lady to be talking about.”

  “But if it has to happen for me to have a baby …”

  “I told you, it’s not a fit thing for a lady to know, much less sit around discussing, like it was a new way to make preserves or pickle a ham. Men always know what to do, so you just leave it to his lordship,” said the city-bred maid who was just as ignorant as her city-bred mistress.

  “But will it hurt?” asked Sara, growing more fearful all the time.

  “I can’t rightly say, but nobody seems to like it much. Some scream and wail, and others lament over it for days afterwards. Most women just close their eyes and lie rigid until it’s done. My old mistress used to say it was a trial all women had to endure, because somebody had to have the babies, and Cod, being a man himself, wouldn’t think of putting it off on the husbands.”

  “If it’s so terrible, why do men like it? The girls at Miss Adelaide’s used to say that’s why a man took a mistress.”