The rush of traffic had died down outside. Not many were on the street at this hour, especially since the members of the ton would be in line at the Ardleigh estate or at the opera or the theater. Most of the shops on her street closed early. After lighting her oil lamp, Sara stood from her desk, listening to the eerie quiet. Chills ran down her spine at the thought of how alone she was at that moment. No one would hear her scream; no one would be there to help, if needed. Perhaps Philip was right, and she should return to the boardinghouse for safety reasons. Cradling her head in her hands, she thought about the futility of such a move. It would be impossible to earn the money she needed if she were forced to leave the shop at sundown.
Allowing herself a few minutes to daydream, she thought about her friend’s ball, and wondered what it would have felt like to stroll into the ballroom on the arm of the Duke of Brentwood. He was by far the most handsome nobleman she had ever seen. Without really thinking, she reached up to touch her cheek where he had caressed her. Would he be that gentle if he made love to her? She envisioned Philip smiling at her with his fine-looking mouth, no coldness in his gaze, maybe his hand at her waist, caressing her.
Then Miranda Montrose popped into her mind, causing a shudder to course through her. Oh, the tongue-lashing she’d give Sara if she ever saw her out in public with the duke.
Unfortunately, it was only a dream.
***
Philip held out his hand to Emma as she stepped from the carriage.
“Are you ready, pretty one, for your first ball?”
“Oh, Philip, I am so excited! How many people do you think will be here? I hope my gown is appropriate. I do love this gown Lady Downey fitted to me. I’ve never seen another like it. Did you pay her something special? I am sure no one else will have a gown like this. She is a very special lady, don’t you agree?”
Mary St. James, who stood on Philip’s other side, peeked around her son to glare at her daughter. “For heaven’s sake, Emma. Cease your prattling and do remember your brother’s title, please. I know you are nervous, but if you continue babbling to your brother, he will escort you home in a hurry.”
“It’s all right, Mother. Emma is fine. I am sure she will calm down once we’re inside.” Philip leaned over and gave his sister a peck on her cheek. “You are truly beautiful, Emma. You’ll be the loveliest lady at the ball.”
Philip had chastised his brothers for not attending with them, but now was glad they’d begged off. They would have teased Emma too much. She didn’t need that on the night of her first ball.
Emma blushed and gazed up at him with a sweet smile. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Remember you are to be with me or your brother at all times tonight,” the duchess warned. “You will not go off by yourself for any reason. Is that clear, Emma?”
“Yes, Mother. I will behave. You have reminded me several times now.” Emma’s eyes rolled up to look at the sky as she sighed.
“Mother is right this time, Emma,” Philip admonished. “You are too young to go off by yourself. There are likely to be many young men searching for innocent females. Of course, with me by your side, they will stay away.” Noticing the frustration on Emma’s face, he couldn’t help but smile. She might think her mother and brother were spoiling her fun, but this night would be memorable for her.
He wondered how long he would have to stay. He’d quickly tired of attending balls after the divorce became public knowledge—aggressive mothers had taken to shoving their awkward young daughters in his face. The fact that he had, indeed, obtained a divorce had caused a bit of a stir, but it meant he was once again marriageable material in the minds of his peers. Then there was Miranda. She had sent several notes to his house, hoping to reconcile. He had only responded to one. “It is over” was all he had written. Apparently, she still did not believe him.
His best strategy was to stick by his sister’s side all night. His mother had made it clear she intended to guard Emma closely, and Miranda wouldn’t dare cross her. The duchess wielded a colossal amount of power with the ton.
The butler announced them as they entered the foyer and made their way down the steps.
Philip strode directly to their hosts, Ardleigh and his wife. “Lady Ardleigh, you are a vision of loveliness tonight,” he said as he took her gloved hand.
“Why, thank you, Your Grace,” Phoebe said with a curtsy.
Philip noticed most eyes in the ballroom had turned to them, so he introduced his sister. “May I present my sister, Lady Emma, and my mother, Mary, the Dowager Duchess of Brentwood.”
Phoebe took Emma’s hands in hers. “Lady Emma, you are breathtaking tonight. Pink is a lovely color on you. Your gown is divine. As is yours, Your Grace.” Phoebe turned to the duchess.
Emma curtsied as she blushed. “Thank you, Lady Ardleigh. Lady Downey designed my new gown. I hoped it would be appropriate for my first ball.”
Phoebe’s eyes lit up. “It is more than appropriate. You will steal many hearts tonight, I am afraid. All eyes will be on you.”
Emma’s face beamed as she turned to her brother. “Thank you, Your Grace, for allowing me to come with you.”
“Come, Emma, I will find you some lemonade, and we will allow Lady Ardleigh to greet her other guests.” Philip bowed briefly, holding his elbow up to his sister, and led his family into the crowd, peering into many sets of male eyes as he passed to make sure they understood his sister was off limits.
***
Sara jumped at the distant yowl of a cat down the street. Her nerves had been on edge ever since dusk had settled on the city a couple of hours ago. She brushed a fallen hair out of her eyes as she worked, thinking how much she wished she could afford to return to the boardinghouse. At the time, she’d been happy to leave, but her circumstances had changed. If only she could spare the money.
She paced in her showroom, ears attuned to the sounds outside. Although it wasn’t close to the end of the two-week period, something told her she was in imminent danger. But what could she do? She certainly couldn’t visit the duchess; she would be at the Ardleigh ball tonight. The duke had said she could get in touch with him, but where would he be tonight? Perhaps she could attend the ball—Phoebe would be delighted—however, she no longer owned appropriate attire. She had some nice gowns, but none were truly lavish. Her husband had always encouraged her to be more understated.
Her gaze shot to the readymade gowns, some decorating a chaise, some on her father’s T-bars bracketed to the walls. Two of them, she knew, fit her. One gown was soft lavender with dark purple ribbons. Lavender was a little light for her since she was apparently a widow, but the dark ribbons were beautiful. The other choice was yellow, which would be totally inappropriate for Phoebe’s ball. She did not wish to stand out, especially not for ignoring the conventions of widowhood.
Foolish girl! Why would you think about attending a ball? You are no longer part of the ton. She paced again. A handsome duke popped into her mind. She had flushed to her roots when she’d caught him staring at her at Phoebe’s estate the other day. He was so gorgeous, so unexpectedly kind, that her heart melted a bit more each time she saw him. But he also tied her tongue into knots, and she’d struggled for words. They’d stayed like that, her cradling the baby, him watching her, for a long moment before Phoebe returned.
Strange noises brought her abruptly back to reality. Freezing in her path, she listened to voices outside the shop.
“What do you think you are doing, man? Can’t you see that her shop is closed?”
Her shop? She rushed to her window and peered through the curtain. Two men argued a few feet from her door. One man she had never seen before, but the other looked familiar.
Was that Stinky? She watched as the stranger threw a fist at him. The punch landed square in Stinky’s gut. He yelled and swung back but missed his target.
“Get the hell out of here, you dirty scum!” the stranger yelled at Stinky. A few more punches were thrown before Stinky finally esca
ped down the street.
Sara raced to her door to thank the other man, but he disappeared.
Where had he gone?
She opened her door and shouted down the street. “Come back! Don’t leave me here alone. Please, come back!”
Sara searched the street for her savior before slamming the door closed and locking it.
He would probably come back for her. She had to get out, but where could she go? Her only choice was to attend Ardleigh’s ball. Maybe Philip was there, someone who wouldn’t abandon her if she feared for her life.
She ran to the middle room and pulled out the lavender gown. Removing her clothes, she threw them in the back room and tugged the gown on over her corset. Her trembling fingers had a hard time with the buttons, but she finally did them up. How could she get to Ardleigh’s? Phoebe’s house was closer than the duke’s, but it was still quite a distance. And what if Stinky was watching the shop? Maybe he was out there right now waiting for her to make a move.
Another thought struck her. Had the fight been a ruse? Perhaps he’d set the whole thing up to get her to walk outside? Maybe he couldn’t get through her new locks. In that case, he would have to get her to leave her shop to get the money.
Perhaps she should stay. Was it safer here? Or would it be safer at Ardleigh’s? Sara cradled her hands in her face, wracked by uncertainty and desperation.
Papa, what should I do?
She made the bold decision to leave, even though she would have to go alone, something that just wasn’t done. She didn’t have a companion to travel to the Ardleigh’s with her, but once inside, she could remain near Phoebe, an acceptable arrangement. Staying in one place was impossible now that she had seen Stinky again. If he followed her and tried to kill her, then she would fight. If she lost, so be it. At least the torture would finally be over.
Sara fixed her hair, found her reticule and bonnet, donned her cape, and locked her shop. Glancing over her shoulder when the cold air hit her face, she was thankful there wasn’t a soul in sight. She hurried into the night, aiming blindly toward the Ardleigh estate.
Chapter Fifteen
Philip wandered aimlessly around the edge of the ballroom. Not really understanding why, he continued as if he had a destination. He had left Emma with his mother by the punchbowl. A couple of young bucks had tried to talk to her, but he knew his mother would have her in hand. He smiled when he thought of Emma’s excitement. There was something so innocent about her joy.
Of course, Caroline had loved balls too, but she’d savored them for the attention. With her stunning looks and her body, Caroline had always drawn plenty of interest from the men and jealousy and admiration from the ladies. He hadn’t realized it until they had been married for a while, but life was always about Caroline, no one else. He had certainly never seen his ex-wife stare at a baby the way Sara had gazed longingly at the Ardleigh baby yesterday. But then, Lady Downey wasn’t self-centered like Caroline.
He stopped for a moment as he caught quick movement across the ballroom. Was that Sara? His gaze followed her around the edge of the room. He couldn’t tell where she was headed, but she was clearly in a hurry. Although she looked as beautiful as he’d ever seen her in a lovely purple gown, she seemed panic-stricken. In fact, she stumbled as if she was on the verge of fainting. He charged across the ballroom, trying not to draw attention to himself. Edging through the crowd, he finally stepped in front of her.
“Sara?”
Sara dodged him, startled. “Oh, Your Grace. Pardon me. I didn’t…” Her eyes darted at the people around them. She appeared to be looking for someone—or perhaps running from someone.
Acting on impulse, Philip quickly grasped her hand and escorted her toward the dance floor as the band started the next piece.
“Waltz with me, Lady Downey?”
She searched his gaze for a moment, long enough for him to count the golden flecks in her eyes, then hastened onto the dance floor with him. He drew her in closer, savoring the feel of her in his arms.
“Sara, look at me,” he whispered. “I have you now. You are safe. What’s wrong? Remember, whatever it is, I will protect you.”
Her eyes searched his then dropped again. She looked lost and frightened, and he’d never wanted anything more than to bolster her. Protect her. She leaned in closer, and he whispered in her ear, “Sara, relax. I will not let him hurt you. You’ll stay with me tonight. He’ll not frighten you again.” Her body relaxed slightly in his arms, and that small sign of trust moved him more than he could say.
“He came for me again,” she whispered.
“What happened?” He forced a smile for the crowd as they continued to dance.
“Nothing. He was at my door, and someone scared him away. But I couldn’t stay. What if he returned? What if he came back for me?” She closed her eyes and leaned in closer, her hand stroking the fabric of his dark coat in a way that summoned images from his dreams. They stayed like that for a moment, swaying, but then she smiled and raised her head. That smile was so radiant and glorious, he struggled not to kiss her then and there, in front of everyone. Then the smile wavered.
“Your Grace, help me. What do I do?”
“You needn’t worry any longer, Sara. I will take care of everything.”
***
Emma tugged on her mother’s arm.
“Mother, look! Over there, see who Philip is dancing with? Isn’t that Lady Downey?”
“Oh my word, I think you’re right, Emma, but when did she get here? I didn’t even see her arrive. I must say she appears to be upset. What do you think, my dear?”
“Oh, I think they make a beautiful couple, Mother. Look at Lady Downey’s gown. Is it not gorgeous?”
The duchess’s eyes narrowed as a small smile crept across her face. “Why, they really do make a perfect couple. Now, how long do you think it will take before your brother realizes it?”
***
Philip hastened Sara out through the side terrace doors, then called for his carriage. Keeping a tight hold on her, he called out to Ardleigh on the front steps.
Ardleigh strode over to them, his eyes widening when he caught sight of Sara—and the location of Philip’s arm, which cradled her lower back.
“Good evening, Lady Downey. Everything all right, Brentwood?”
“No, everything is not all right, but I’ll handle it. Would you please tell my mother that I’ll be unable to escort her home? Tell her not to wait up for me. I will explain in the morning.”
“Of course,” Ardleigh said, his brow furrowed. “Do let me know what’s happening when you have the chance. I’m certain Phoebe will be concerned.”
He bowed to them and took his leave, and Philip tightened his arm around Sara. He didn’t want her to get a chill while they waited.
Their carriage arrived, and the duke helped Sara inside. Before following her in, he noticed Miranda Montrose traipsing around the side of the house with a murderous look on her face. Apparently, she wasn’t pleased to see he’d formed a friendship with Sara. Perhaps it would encourage her to finally find a different paramour.
He climbed in and sat across from Sara, gazing into her emerald eyes. He realized how happy he was to be looking at Sara instead of Miranda.
“You’re ravishing tonight, Sara, and please do not argue with me. You were the most beautiful woman in the ballroom.”
Sara blushed and averted her eyes, although he didn’t miss the glimmer of pleasure in her gaze.
Philip reached over and tugged her onto his lap. She came to him willingly, and when he traced his thumb across her lower lip she released a lusty sigh that had him hard in an instant.
“Your husband was totally wrong about you and I suspect a little mad,” he said in her ear. “Have I told you that you have the most kissable lips I have ever seen?”
He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Thoughts of chestnut locks falling over her breasts ran through his mind. How would she feel in his arms? He was surprised
by how much he wanted her. His lips descended on hers again and he deepened the kiss, satisfying a hunger inside him that he hadn’t even identified until now. Sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, he changed the angle of the kiss, giving him better access. Her arms wrapped around his neck, a small moan erupting from the back of her throat.
His thumb brushed her ankle, caressing her soft skin, and he ran a line of kisses down her jaw, across the pulse in her neck. His tongue found its way down her collarbone. Her fingers tightened their grip on his shoulders with every caress.
He broke away and held her in his arms, his fingers stroked her hair, pulling the pins out. What was this woman doing to him? He’d never wanted any woman the way he wanted her.
Already, he knew she would be a passionate lover. He was never wrong about such things. Loud moans of ecstasy tore through his mind as he thought about bringing her to climax.
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of his townhouse.
***
The door opened and they stepped inside. Sara was a nervous wreck. Her fingers trembled in the duke’s hand.
“Alfred, this is Lady Sara,” Philip said to the man who’d opened the door. A matronly woman stood beside him. “We shall remain here tonight. Please ready the bath.”
Philip’s butler nodded. “Of course, Your Grace.” Alfred motioned to the housekeeper and sent her on her way.
Sara had thought Philip would bring her back to Hearthstone Manor, but instead they’d come here. What did it mean? Would they have a chance to be alone together? Still holding her hand, he led her into a large bedroom and helped her with her cape.
“Where are we, Your Grace? Where have you brought me?” Her eyes roamed the beautifully outfitted room, lingering on the bed, the largest she had ever seen, which bore a navy blue coverlet and numerous pillows in different shades of blue. There was also a hearth, a couple of luxuriant rugs, and a table and chairs.
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