“Why don’t you marry Sarah?”
And with a single name, Colin found himself diverted. He studied the table, idly tracing his finger along the gouges and carvings that marred the surface. “We wouldn’t suit.”
Etiénne shrugged. “She seems very taken with you.”
Yes, he had deceived her, hadn’t he? “She doesn’t know me.”
Etiénne chuckled. “You could marry her before she learns how difficult you can be.”
“Go find a woman of your own. Shouldn’t be difficult for you. The ladies come in droves when you spout that French nonsense.” Colin grimaced. He would never have such polish or finesse.
“Why do you have to marry now? Would it not be wise to wait until the war is done?”
Colin looked up. “It’s time.” He had a responsibility to the children of St. George. He might have failed the old earl, but he would not fail them.
Etiénne lifted his tankard in a mock salute.“À votre santé,” he toasted with a laugh. After taking a deep swallow, he eyed the serving girl once more. “Better you than me.”
Two days later, Colin arrived at Sarah’s stoop, cursing himself for being a miserable fraud and a coward as well. Giles had handed him a silk shawl earlier that morning, a grim look on his face.
“It belongs to Miss Banks. She asks that you return it.” The butler left before Colin could argue. Of course, he wasn’t certain he wanted to argue.You could see her again, touch her once more, the sly voice purred his head. He should see if she were all right, see that she had suffered no further harm.
And so, when the maid opened the door, and looked at him with sharp suspicion, his immediate thoughts were that the maid understood his immoral aspirations and did not approve. He glowered at her with all the arrogance he had learned from the old earl and simply said, “Haverwood,” as if the one word could make up for all the lurid fantasies that racked his brain.
Suddenly, it was as if spring had come early. Her face transformed with delight and Colin exhaled with heartfelt relief. “Come inside. No, wait. I must see ye for meself.”
She stared at his face for a damned eternity, her cap dropping low over her eyes, all the while Colin shifted uncomfortably. She tilted her head and chewed on her finger, and the warm afternoon sun beat down on his back. “Can you stay here for just a wee bit longer? The light’s much better outside.”
He could take no more. “Perhaps this is an inconvenient time. I’ll return tomorrow.” He turned to go.
“No, no. I’ll be back in a pig’s whisker, I will.”
She was quite possibly the oddest maid he’d ever seen, and his own household was a far cry from normal. She returned momentarily with a glass of wine and instead of offering it to him, she held it up to his face.
The maid frowned, closing one eye in an appraising manner, and then, with a satisfied exclamation, burst into a grin. “Perfect!”
Before he could question her strange ritual, her face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry, my lord, but the mistress is out. Perhaps you could wait?”
He had whistled all morning, eager to see Sarah once more, and now the disappointment was almost a tangible thing. As if God had known what was in his head. “Do you expect her back soon?”
“I don’t rightly know, sir. But I do know you should stay here. I think Miss Sarah would be right put out if I were to let you leave. Perhaps you’d care for a cup of tea or a glass of sherry?” She grinned and tugged at her cap.
Ignoring his own warnings, he asked for a cup of tea and smiled politely, following when she led him into a parlor. She swept to the floor in an extravagant show of servitude, skirts billowing beneath her, and he felt like a medieval lord greeting his vassals. When she departed, he was quite relieved.
He looked about the room, noting the fine quality of materials that made up the furnishings. There was no indication that Sarah Banks lacked for funds, no indication at all. Yet, Colin thought with not a small amount of humor, that considering the exaggerations that had plagued the newspapers recently, perhaps Sarah’s financial ruin was an exaggeration as well.
He certainly hoped so, although a small part of him wanted to help her, wanted to earn that starry-eyed look that made him feel as if he were the DragonSlayer.
The maid returned with a silver tray loaded with a teapot and cups, bobbing only slightly this time, too encumbered with her load to prostrate herself once again. She settled the tray on the small table in front of him—“Tea?”—and then held up the steaming pot.
He nodded, and after pouring his cup, she folded her arms across her chest and eyed him warily. “I hope you’re not going to make trouble for Miss Sarah.”
He merely stared at her in response, certainly not gauche enough to discuss his fears with a servant.
She sighed heavily, her plump bosom heaving. “Miss Sarah has been hurt enough in her time, she has. I’m just doing me duty, that’s all.”
“I have no intention of hurting Miss Banks. Ever.” He prayed to God that was a promise he could keep.
“She’s had her share of men sniffing round. Fortune hunters, the lot of them. Some of them much, much worse.” She shook her head as she poured herself a cup of tea and then glared down at him over the rim. “If I thought you ran with that pack of wolves, you never would’ve seen the inside of this house.”
Miss Banks clearly inspired great loyalty in her servants and he was touched by the maid’s protectiveness. “I assure you, I’m not after her fortune, or anything else,” he added hastily, lying to himself as well as her maid. He put his cup on the table and leaned forward. “You said Miss Banks had been hurt. What happened?”
Iris settled herself in a chair across from him and balanced her saucer on her knee. “Oh, she’s doing fine, she is.” She blew on the hot liquid. “Done right well for herself since her father died. People are still talking about the scandal, but she seems to have weathered the worst of it. On most days, she keeps her head low and away from trouble, but Miss Sarah can be a real scamp when she—”
“Scandal?” He interrupted her rambling. “That was so long ago, wasn’t it? I can’t even seem to recall . . .”
“Her father. Gambling, you know. I hired on after he died, but there were rumors that he didn’t always play square. Not that I believed a word of it. Miss Sarah is one of the most honorable ladies I know. Although I know better than to play a hand of cards with her.” She leaned in and whispered low. “She never loses.”
“She has no one to take care of her?”
“No one. The comte watches over her when she lets him, but Miss Sarah, she doesn’t take kindly to someone giving her orders.”
A door slammed, and she jumped to her feet. “That’ll be Miss Sarah. You wait. I’ll go and fetch her.”
Colin stood up and pulled at his cravat, standing straight and tall, her shawl clutched tightly in his fingers. He was the DragonSlayer. Of course he would never hurt Sarah, of course his intentions were honorable.
His body hardened in response.
Goddamn.
Chapter Nine
Sarah smoothed her skirts and pinched her cheeks and lifted her hand to the morning room door.
He was here.
Society was wrong. Juliette was wrong. She nearly laughed with the joy of it.
Slowly she opened the door, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way her heart pounded. Surely the entire city could hear the telltale thumping?
He stood quickly, handsome as always, bowing politely. She curtsied, low and graceful. Iris would be quite proud of her. “My lord.” The pitch in her voice was perfect, soothing and melodious, her best effort.
“Miss Banks.” When she rose, he thrust a silken scrap in her hand. “Your shawl.”
She stared at the mysterious object, confused. “’Tis not mine.”
“But your note—”
Suspicion reared its ugly head, chomping its teeth, turning her bright moment of smug infallibility just a shade darker. “What note?”
“Th
e one I received this morning.”
She handed him back the shawl, her smug infallibility now completely destroyed. “I didn’t send you a note.”
His fingers smoothed the thin material. “I see.”
When she spoke, her voice quivered, not quite so soothing and melodious anymore. “I believe Mr. Giles is making mischief again.”
“I should go.” He turned on his heel.
Without thinking, her fingers reached out, clutched his arm. “Please stay.”
He stared at her hand in silence. His entire bearing so still and rigid that she feared she had offended him. At long last, he raised his head, met her eyes, and nodded.
The moment passed and with some remorse, she removed her hand.
“You’re feeling recovered?” he asked, as if he were concerned.
“Oh, yes. Right as a line, fit as a fiddle.” A nervous smile was the best she could manage. “Your yard is particularly foul smelling.”
“The gardener is trying out a new type of night soil. Rotten luck that the driver ran aground on the same day.”
“Yes, if he’d just waited one more day to drive so precariously, perhaps I wouldn’t have had to scrub and soak quite so much.”
The earl pulled at his cravat and laughed awkwardly. “Yes. Well. I’m glad to see you’re in higher spirits. I’m sorry about what happened.”
He did look truly sorry, and Sarah suspected he was referring to much more than her fall. Yet Sarah did not fancy lingering over his regrets. Instead, she was eager to discuss his other noble deed. “Did you go to see Mrs. Stoutland? Was that the truth?”
“Yes.”
The look in his eyes warmed her. “Why?”
“What she did was wrong.” He spoke like a schoolboy reciting a favored adage.
“You’ll make many enemies in this city with that sort of conduct. Do you go about threatening everyone that is rude?”Or is it just for me?
“No,” he answered, but his eyes gave nothing away.
“I see,” she answered, not seeing at all.
“I should go.”
“I understand you’re to be married. Congratulations.” She blurted out the words, wishing she could take them back immediately.
“Your good wishes are premature.”
She began to pray. “So once again, the gossips have cried wolf?” she asked carefully.
The earl looked at the wall. “I’m sorry.”
“I see.” She collapsed into the welcoming arms of a chair, completely unladylike, completely uncaring. Once again she had set herself up for her own defeat. “I’m making a fool out of myself, aren’t I? Juliette told me I was, and it seems she was right. I’ve abandoned my pride, my good sense, and my dignity for no cause at all, except perhaps my own stubborn nature. You’ve never encouraged me, never favored me in public, except for the one dance.” The sympathetic look in his eyes gave him away. “You never called here before today, did you? The flowers. That was a lie, wasn’t it?”
Slowly, he nodded, and she bit her lip. The sunlight dimmed, blurred by her tears.
“You should go.” Her voice wobbled precariously.
“I won’t leave you like this.”
“I won’t have your pity.” There, she sounded stronger now.
“Sarah, you don’t know what I am.”
Her laugh was an ugly thing, bitter and raw. “You mean to say that you have a flaw? More than one, my lord? Do you smoke in front of the ladies? Or do you go about introducing yourself to strange women? Or, dear heavens, perhaps you are already married? Have you a mad wife hidden away upstairs?”
He shook his head, staring at her from such a long way away. “I’m sorry.”
She dug her fingers into her skirts, feeling such pain, watching her fragile world break apart. “Why are you doing this? Is it really true? Am I unworthy? Perhaps I should apply to work in your kitchen. Is that where I belong? Scrubbing floors? I’m sure I’d be quite competent.”
“You deserve a better man than me.”
Fury rose inside her, white-hot and seething. “Trite words, my lord, and completely beneath you. Do not deign to tell me what I deserve. Because of you, I let myself twist in the wind, ignoring all aspects of sensibility. I was sure you felt something for me. Some spark, some piece of affection, some bit of tenderness.” She rose from her chair, and her gaze raked over him contemptuously. “Something other than your lust.”
He took a step back, as if she had slapped him. His face paled. “I wish I could be what you wanted.”
She saw panic in his eyes, and something else. Something soft and gentle. She pinched herself, looking carefully at him again. There were no stars in her eyes now to cloud her thinking; this was no dream. He was real. Very softly, she whispered, “Silly man, you already are.”
His eyes turned careful, wary. “No, you’re mistaken.”
For Sarah, his caution was far too late. He had already shown her his cards, and she pressed her advantage. “Then let us determine the extent of my errant judgment. You must prove it to me.”
He took another step back. “What?”
“A wager. Cards.”
“Cards?” His gaze sharpened. “What would we play for?”
She thought quickly, running sums in her head. “I own three quarters of Alcyone’s. It’s yours if I lose.”
“Alcyone’s? The club?”
“Yes.”
The earl grinned and began to laugh. “You’re not destitute at all, are you?”
“Did you think I was after your fortune?”
“No.” His eyes held hers. “And if I lose?”
She tilted her chin, her words quiet, shoring up her pride. “You’ll be my escort this evening.”
There was hesitation in his gaze, but he was coming about. She could see it. “It seems the stakes are somewhat slanted in my favor.”
“Then it should be easier for you to agree.”
He locked his hands behind his back. “Where would we go?”
“I don’t know. I really hadn’t planned this. Wherewould we go?”
He thought for a moment. “Astley’s.”
“Astley’s?” She looked at him in surprise.
“The riding emporium.”
Perhaps the day was a little brighter. Perhaps some bit of hope remained. “Then to Astley’s.” She picked up her deck of cards and began to shuffle. “One hand.”
“How can you have such faith in me?”
She rocked back on her heels, astounded by his question. At first she thought he was mocking her, but when she looked at him, his eyes were wide with disbelief. She picked her words carefully, needing for him to understand. “Lord Haverwood, faith, by its very existence, is not to be supported, or based on factual information. When we believe, we believe in whatshouldn’t be. If we believed in whatshould be, that would not be faith, but common sense. Do you see the difference? What a person believes in, whether it be God, or cards, or even another, cannot be proven or disproven. It just is.”
He looked at her curiously. “You’ve given this great thought.”
She shuffled the cards absently and smiled at him. “My faith, my dreams, have kept me from being alone and being sad. Some think that what I believed in was silly, but silly or not, I won’t let anyone take it away from me.” She held out her hand. “Here.”
Silently he took the pack from her and dealt their cards. Her thumb slid over the bent edge, the feel of it familiar and comforting. She had been raised on this, the clinking chips and shuffling cards. If she closed her eyes, she could see her father sharing the baize with his cronies, securing her future with each bet he won. And her father always won.
The earl looked at his hand, and then gazed at her. His expression was somber, but his eyes were alive, burning her nerves to acrid cinder. Everyday functions—breathing, speaking—became difficult.
The honorable and respectable earl of Haverwood was about to be rooked by the notorious Sarah Banks.
Nervously, she swallow
ed. Had all her words been lies? With the cards sliding between her fingers, she had thought it would be easy. Manipulating fate once more.
Ah, but this was her chance. One evening, one short night to appear on his arm, laughing, showing the world that even the honorable earl of Haverwood considered her acceptable. That the two of them together, a couple, was not so far-fetched, or so ludicrous. She could hear her father, spurring her on. Oliver Banks would have gulled the earl and thought nothing of it.
But for Sarah, a single victory was not enough. Now, greedy girl that she was, she wanted more. And silly as it seemed, she really did believe.
Damn him. She wanted so badly to have just one night, and with a mere turn of the card it was in her grasp. Didn’t she deserve it?
Damn them all, every last one that had ever stared down their aristocratic noses at her.
Looking down at the meager three clearly visible on the card she clutched tightly within her fingers, she sighed. For a moment she fingered the lace at her wrist, temptation warring with conscience. But in the end she laid down the cursed card, covering it with one hand. She could not cheat him, and so she let her other card—the king she had tucked into her sleeve—fall to the floor.
Chapter Ten
Colin watched the card fall and marveled at her courage. To set him up, to bait him so cleverly, and then to let it slip through her fingers. He didn’t understand how others could be taken in, when her face so clearly gave her away. Winning was in her blood, and yet when she looked into the eyes of the dragon, she was able to walk away. The way she stared at him now, as if he were something to be treasured, stirred things within him far more dangerous than admiration.
“Sarah?”
“Yes?” The sadness in her eyes broke his heart, and he made up his mind.
“You dropped your card.”
She opened her mouth, and then closed it quickly. He saw the questions in her eyes, the worry that darkened them to the color of smoke.
He leaned down and picked it up, smiling gently at her. “Yes, there you have it. A king.” He laid it on the green face of the table and turned his own card over.
Touched by Fire Page 12
