The Kent Heiress

by Roberta Gellis

  While she was still half-blind, she heard her husband utter a soft exclamation. He extricated his arm skillfully from her hand, which had been resting on it, and plunged into the crowd. Before he was completely swallowed up, Sabrina’s vision had cleared enough to catch sight of him making his way toward a short, dark-skinned man with small, bright eyes and a very high, aquiline nose. She could hear music coming from the ballroom beyond, but William was obviously not going directly there. Her first feeling was one of relief. At least her husband was not obviously pursuing the inamorata of the moment. Her next sensation was one of intense surprise. What was Prince General Bagration doing here?

  His presence was quite startling. He was a firm believer in and supporter of Prince Marshal Kutuzov, whose plans had been ignored and superseded by the tsar, causing the defeat at Austerlitz. Furthermore, Prince Bagration was of volatile disposition, like many Georgians, and had been heard—or so rumor had hissed in Sabrina’s ear—to have said certain things about the tsar’s advisors that implied he would not, to say the least, court their company. In fact, Sabrina noticed, Prince Bagration did not look happy. Her eyes swept beyond him for a glimpse at the rest of the group, hoping to find an explanation of his presence in his companions. Instead, a most unladylike screech of joy and amazement was forced out of her.

  “Perce!”

  Sabrina surged forward, elbowing people out of the way quite rudely. For a split second after she had shouted Philip’s friend’s name, she thought she might have been mistaken. What in the world would Percivale Moreton be doing standing attentively at General Bagration’s elbow? But Perce’s head had turned instantly at her call, and although he had missed seeing her in the crowd, she was certain it was he. She knew Perce almost as well as she knew her foster brother, Philip. Perce and Philip were inseparable childhood friends, and since Perce’s family lived in Cornwall, he had spent most of his short school holidays with Roger and Leonie at Stour Castle or Dymchurch House.

  As soon as Sabrina began to move, Perce saw her. Pausing only to excuse himself to his companions, he worked his way toward her with as much determination as she was showing and hugged her as enthusiastically. Then he pushed her back a little to look at her.

  “Brina, you’re breathtaking. How the devil did you work up that hard glitter?”

  “It suited the weather,” she said.

  She was smiling, but there must have been something in her voice that betrayed her. Perce knew her as well as she knew him, after all. She had been the “pesty little sister”, trailing along behind him and Philip, begging to be included in their games and excursions. Considering that she was seven years younger—and a girl—they had been generous. They had yielded to her entreaties often, too often for the safety of her clothing, the cleanliness of her person, or the proper development of the delicate sensibility expected of a young female of high breeding.

  The smile died out of Perce’s eyes. As it did, Sabrina suddenly realized that he did not look quite right, either. There were dark shadows under his eyes, hollows in his cheeks, and lines around his mouth that she did not remember.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The anxious question came from both simultaneously, so that each had to laugh. Sabrina sighed and shrugged.

  “A long story,” she said. “And you?”

  Perce shrugged also. “Austerlitz,” he replied even more succinctly.

  “Austerlitz?” Sabrina echoed “What were you doing there, in God’s name? What are you doing in Russia in the first place?”

  “A long story,” Perce said, and they both laughed again. Sabrina looked around and saw Countess Latuski bearing down on her. Either the woman had no idea Sabrina had seen her with William or she was eager to force a confrontation. Sabrina took a firm grip on Perce’s hand. “Can you get away for a little while?”

  He glanced quickly at Prince Bagration and saw him listening to William, who was talking eagerly. “Yes, but I can’t leave and I have to be where I can see when the prince moves.”

  “We can go over to the window.” Sabrina nodded toward one of the huge double windows that formed six embrasures down the length of the room. Although they were partially covered by heavy, swagged draperies, they leaked frigid air and people generally avoided the area.

  “You’ll freeze,” Perce protested.

  “I have my shawl,” Sabrina assured him, drawing it partially up over her shoulders as she spoke, but her eyes flashed toward the woman plainly trying to approach them. It was clear that Sabrina hoped to discourage her by moving away obviously.

  Perce nodded and turned—but they had not been quick enough. The woman Sabrina was trying to avoid reached them and began to gush, delivering en route several invitations. “You are in beauty tonight, great beauty,” Countess Latuski twittered, “and I see you have already captured one of our special guests. You must grace my little breakfast, and the ball, and bring—” She stopped suggestively, not having had Perce presented to her.

  “You over estimate my allure,” Sabrina said flatly. She still had no idea whether the countess was ignorant or was pushing for Sabrina’s tacit concurrence in her relationship with William. “This is Percivale George Evelyn Moreton, my brother Philip’s closest friend. Countess Maria Fedorovna Latuski, may I present to you, Lord Kevern.”

  Of course, Philip was not Sabrina’s brother. He was not related to her in any way, but it was too difficult to explain each time that Leonie was her cousin, not her mother, and that Philip was her cousin’s husband’s son. Sabrina noticed that sometimes when she had explained the relationship and then had occasion to mention some of the innocent things she and Philip had done together, she received suggestive leers. That was sickening! In her heart Philip was her brother, and she knew the feeling to be mutual It was easier to call him brother and be done with it.

  Perce bowed to their unwelcome companion with great grace, but his face had all the animation of a dead fish. “Honored, I’m sure,” he said in English.

  The countess looked at him in surprise.

  “He said he was honored, he was sure,” Sabrina translated literally, knowing that the meaningless English idiom came out as a cynical, veiled insult in French.

  Perce continued to look utterly blank, as if his French were not good enough to make him aware of just what Sabrina had said. The countess’s interest in him diminished visibly. She had obviously been about to invite him more specifically than her unfinished “bring—” but was now reconsidering.

  “Owing to the presence of Lord Kevern in St. Petersburg, I am afraid I don’t know how much time I will have free over the next few weeks,” Sabrina said.

  No quiver of voice or expression betrayed that she knew Perce's French was as fluent as her own, although he spoke it with an abominable English accent. In fact, Perce learned languages more quickly than anyone Sabrina knew, and spoke each with the same strong accent. He claimed, and she believed him, that he was only marginally aware of the difference in his speech and that of others. It was interesting to Sabrina that he was also tone deaf, or nearly so. He could recognize the rhythm of music well enough to dance, but he admitted that the tunes all sounded pretty much alike to him.

  She turned to him and asked in English, “Will you be free to visit us for the next week or so?’

  “I think so, but don’t count on it. I don’t know how long were supposed to stay in St. Petersburg—and if someone steps on Prince Bagration’s toes…”

  All the while he spoke, Perce looked about as intelligent as a village idiot, his face empty, his eyes blank and glazed. Sabrina smiled with spurious regret at Countess Latuski.

  “I will be much occupied showing Lord Kevern the city,” she said. “I fear this may cut into my engagements. Perhaps if he finds other amusements… I will write and let you know.”

  The countess now had the option of clearly asking Sabrina to bring Perce to the functions to which she had invited her or of leaving them rapidly. Apparently s
he decided the latter was the better of the two options. Again Sabrina was not sure whether this decision was a retreat in fear of a more open rebuff or whether Perce’s seeming dullness and bad French had put her off. Maria Fedorovna made some quick excuse about seeing someone waving to her and left them. Sabrina and Perce exchanged a single glance of understanding and continued their interrupted attempt to find a modicum of privacy.

  As they reached the window and took refuge partly behind and partly alongside the heavy swag of drapery, Sabrina chuckled. “I love it when you go blank like that, Perce,” she confessed. “You look like a cross between a dead fish and the village idiot. It’s enough to discourage the most violent lord-sucker and toady alive.”

  “Was that what she was?” Perce asked doubtfully.

  The brief haunted expression of indecision and dislike that he had seen when Sabrina noticed Countess Latuski coming toward them had given him the impression that she was more than just a social nuisance. He had put his back to the window so that Sabrina was sheltered from the worst of the draft. He did it out of habit, quite unaware of the protective gesture born of years of blocking drafts from his much-loved mother and sisters, who to his mind, were most inadequately clad in their thin muslins or silks.

  The shock of seeing so dearly familiar a person had brought back to Sabrina all the happiness of the years when Perce was another “brother”. Then the countess’s intrusion into those memories had brought into horrible clarity the ugly happening of that day and the equally ugly choice she was now to make, with the knowledge that whichever path she chose would lead inevitably to unhappiness. Now the little act of consideration, Perce’s obvious desire to spare her any discomfort, even the small one of being chilly, demolished any barrier of pride Sabrina might have erected around her misery.

  “No,” she said, “that isn’t all she is. She’s the woman to whom William was making love in my drawing room this morning. The trouble is, I don’t know whether she is unaware that I saw them or whether her sudden passion for me is to force my tacit acceptance of the affair—and I’m not sure I care. Then there’s this other stupid tie-in with the tsar’s mistress, Maria Naryshkin—they’re friends—so that I don’t dare openly spit in her face. On top of that, I’ve just discovered that I—I don’t care with whom William goes to bed, so long as it isn’t me! I don’t love him anymore, Perce I don’t want to be his wife. I don’t want to bear his children.”

  Perce had opened his mouth in shock at Sabrina’s first disclosure, but hadn’t interrupted her. “My God, how long has this been going on?” he asked in an odd voice.

  Sabrina looked up at him, but his face had gone blank again. Even she could not read anything that fishlike stare. She shuddered. “For two years. I can stop him. I have in the past. But—but it isn’t worth it to me. Oh, Perce, I made a dreadful mistake. I’m not jealous—really I’m not. It’s—this is what’s so awful—that William isn’t worth the effort to keep him.”

  Perce’s lips moved, but he didn’t seem to be able to find his voice or the words he wanted to say. Tears sprang into Sabrina’s eyes. If Perce reacted this way merely to the confession that she didn’t love her husband or want to keep him, how would the rest of the world react to an annulment or divorce? Resentment followed despair.

  “You haven’t heard the worst yet,” she snapped. “I’m considering an annulment or divorce. Do you think that’s a good idea?

  “Don’t!” Perce sounded as if someone had him by the throat. “Don’t ask me! I’m the last… For God’s sake, Brina, I’m in love with you! You can’t talk to me about this!”

  Sabrina recoiled as if she had been struck in the face. It was almost as bad as if Philip had made sexual advances to her when she had brought him a broken toy to fix. She had expected sympathy, concern, grave counsel. What she really hoped for, of course, was a big brother to dry her tears and pat her back and show her her doll all mended. That her adult mind knew quite well broken marriages could not be mended like broken toys was irrelevant. Her heart had a childlike corner that had infinite faith in her big brothers’ abilities to mend anything.

  “I’m sorry—” Perce began, but Sabrina had already turned and fled.

  He stood watching her disappear into the crowd, calling himself ten times a fool. He hadn’t meant to say it. He knew Sabrina had classed him with Philip. He was neuter gender to her, a safe friend. Now, he had destroyed that, destroyed her faith in him, and probably blackened himself with William’s soot. She would think of him as just another predatory male eager to prey on any attractive, unhappy wife.

  But he hadn’t known! His confession of love had been a result of shock, of a sudden brief vision of heaven within his grasp. He had never guessed there was any trouble between Sabrina and her husband. Philip hadn’t said a word. Well, why should be? And it was possible Philip didn’t know, either. Sabrina might have been afraid to say anything to Philip, who was rather prone to impetuous behavior. She could have feared that Philip would try to mend Elvan’s ways with a horsewhip or a pistol.

  I never know anything at the right time, Perce thought bitterly. He hadn’t realized that he loved Sabrina until she was lost to him, already completely devoted to Elvan. It was his sudden dislike for Elvan—a man he had always found pleasant enough until Sabrina began to love him—that had revealed Perce’s true feelings to himself. It was too late then. Sabrina was already waging a determined war to be permitted to marry the man she had chosen. To present himself as a suitor at that point, a suitor her family would have favored strongly and would have pushed at her every way they could, would have earned Perce only her hatred. Quite aside from the fact that she had never thought of him as other than a brother, it would have seemed to her a deliberate betrayal, a cheap device to distract her from a man her guardians felt was too unsettled for her.

  Like Leonie and Roger it had not occurred to Perce that Elvan would not be a faithful husband, or rather, that he would be so indiscreet Sabrina would discover his lapses. That Elvan was known to have had many affairs was irrelevant. He had never before pursed an unmarried girl. He had given every evidence of being completely smitten. Men in their thirties frequently tired of ephemeral affairs and wished to settle down and start a nursery. What was more, it was inconceivable to Perce that any man who had won Sabrina, a woman as intelligent and high-spirited as she was beautiful, would ever want to look elsewhere.

  While Roger and Leonie delayed, hoping Sabrina’s infatuation would fade, Perce had continued a frequent visitor to the family. Had he seen the faintest sign that either Lord Elvan or Sabrina was losing interest, he would have leapt into the breach to widen it and win the prize for himself. Unfortunately, no uncertainty on either side ever showed. All Perce had accomplished was to fall more and more deeply in love himself. Thus, when Roger and Leonie had finally given permission for the marriage, Perce had found the situation too painful. In general, after that, Perce had avoided Sabrina and her husband. There had been nothing obvious, of course and Elvan’s employment in the diplomatic service had soon removed them from England altogether.

  Perce winced, thinking what a shock his announcement must have been to Sabrina. Ugly, disgusting, to profess love to woman who was already hurt by her husband’s betrayal—as if the confession of her injury had somehow cheapened her, had incited him to instant lust. It must seem like that, he thought sickly. What else could she believe, when she must have been even more unaware of his past desire for her than he was of her dissatisfaction with her husband?

  Chapter Three

  The next morning Sabrina opened her eyes and looked at her bed-curtains with faint puzzlement. She felt light and happy and could not imagine why. Then she realized. She had had a very pleasant dream. The actual events were vague, but an overall feeling of joyous pleasure remained. She smiled and sat up, hearing the ring of the curtains rattling on the rods as Katy pushed them away from the windows. In a moment Katy would draw the bed-curtains and bring her hot chocolate.r />
  The curtains were drawn, but Katy held no tray and she jumped a little as if surprised to see Sabrina sitting up. “Are ye alright, then, luv?” she asked.

  “Of course I’m all right,” Sabrina replied in surprise. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Whatever do I mean?” ‘Katy echoed. “Ye came home last, night like a walkin’ corpse. I was all ready to call a physician to ye—only I didna know who, and ye didna have a fever… What happened at the ball?”

  “The ball?” Sabrina was the echoer that time.

  What happened at the ball? Sabrina did not really remember anything clearly except Perce’s voice when he said, “I’m in love with you.” The words caught her mind again, but she pushed them away. She had been so surprised, so shocked. Had she done or said anything really stupid? Had anyone noticed she was not herself? She tried to recall startled expressions or remarks, but she could hardly remember talking to anyone. Then she gave a small sigh of relief. William had commented on the way home that she had disappeared into the ballroom and had danced every single dance. He had thought it a clever device to avoid talk that, at this uncertain moment, might be dangerous. Nothing else came back to her. She hoped, then, she had not misbehaved in any obvious way.

  “Brina!” Katy’s voice was anxious, again.

  “Perce was there,” Sabrina said.

  That wasn’t what she had intended to say. She didn’t want to talk about Perce, not even to Katy—especially not to Katy, who had always been fond of him.

  “Lord Kevern? What’s he doin’ in Russia?”