A Lady in Love (22 page)

"Thank you, Mr. Atwood. Aren't you supposed to be in Scotland?"

The man's prominent Adam's apple rose and fell in his skinny neck as he gulped. He cast a glance over his shoulder, as though expecting to see pursuers. “Yes, yes, I am."

"Harmonia's been quite worried about you. You do remember Harmonia? Your affianced wife?"

"Yes, of course, I do. How is she?” He seemed to realize his curiosity was not as lover-like as it should be. “I've been thinking of her rather a lot just lately. I wonder if you would mind giving her this?"

Sarah took a grubby paper from his hand. It looked as if it had been much handled."What is in this letter, Mr. Atwood?''

"Uh, it's ... that is ...” Fixing him with a steady eye, Sarah repeated her question. Harlow Atwood crumpled. “It's an apology."

"For not having written?"

"For marrying someone else."

"What?” His muttered words were so low, Sarah could not be certain of their sense.

Mr. Atwood shushed her, patting the air with his hands. “I've snuck out,” he said. “If Lucy finds I've gone, especially to come here, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Why should she find out?"

"You don't know Lucy. This is the first place she'll look. She's always been jealous of Harmonia, seeing as Lucy's so much older. Er ... Harmonia's not here, I take it?"

"No, but she'll be back in less than two hours."

"Oh, good. I needn't see her, then. You give her that letter, Miss East. It will explain it all."

"It cannot explain away her humiliation and pain, sir,” she said, flicking it indignantly onto a table. Sarah's face was red for her friend's sake. It burned all the more brightly because she suddenly understood what Miss Canfield's position would have been if Lord Reyne had left her for another.

"Well,” Mr. Atwood said, after a long pause. “I'd better be going along. Lucy, you know."

"I insist that you stay to see Harmonia.” Sarah advanced on him. “To leave now would be an act of cowardice."

The gangling fellow raised his shoulders in a continental shrug. “You don't know Lucy."

"I have no wish to know a woman who would steal another's affianced husband. Didn't you tell her about Harmonia?"

Still backing up, headed by a poltroon's sure instinct for the front door, Mr. Atwood said, “I made every effort, but she never seemed to want to listen. I had no choice but to marry her. Miss East, once that incident in her room came out. She promised me she'd not tell a soul, but the next thing I knew, I was standing up in the kirk ... er ... church. You'll tell Harmonia that, won't you?"

"I think you've behaved abominably, Mr. Atwood. If Harmonia's brothers were here, they'd take a horsewhip to you!” Feeling a strange breeze, Sarah looked around to find that she stood in the street. Glancing up at the windows that reflected the street lamp, she realized, after a moment's alarm, that they were still unobserved, save by a distant figure striding towards them at the end of the street. “You are not a gentleman, sir. I'm happy Harmonia isn't at home to learn of your perfidy."

Mr. Atwood also seemed to discover that his escape path lay open. “I'm sorry you feel that way. Miss East. I know Lucy would have liked to meet you. Good-bye.” Off he darted on his long legs, only to collide with the sole other person in the street.

"Aha!” said a familiar voice as strong hands caught hold of Mr. Atwood by the slack of his coat.

"I say, Reyne, old man, let me go! There's a good fellow.” Mr. Atwood pleaded, twisting and turning in the peer's grasp.

Sarah was dumbstruck. She felt she'd not only forgotten how to speak but that even the ability for conscious thought had departed. Lord Reyne seemed so much bigger than usual, like an avenging spirit, that she wanted to fall at his feet, but she could not move.

"I suppose you were just arriving?” Alaric demanded. “All the more shameful if you are going. Miss East, have you no moral sense whatever? Receiving gentlemen in the middle of the night and in your nightclothes!"

"He ... he isn't in my nightclothes. ...” she said in a tiny, ridiculous voice.

Alaric only turned on her a look of scorn before giving his attention once more to the interloper between his hands. “Be gone, sir, before I call the servants to thrash you. No, by God, who needs them?” Loosening his shoulders in the tight black coat, he hurled Mr. Atwood away as lightly as if he was an old, dried-out branch.

Landing with his arms and legs curled up, like a spider cut loose from a web, Mr. Atwood scrambled to his feet. “Remember to give it to Harmonia!” he said as he turned to run away. He tripped over a loose cobble and sprawled like a beached starfish for a moment before finding his footing again. A brief whizzing noise and the street was empty save for Sarah and a furious Alaric.

"That was Mr. Atwood,” Sarah said, still softly.

"So, not content with carrying on illicitly with a man, you betray your dearest friend? Did that add more spice to the proceedings?''

It was absurd to think, at this moment, of his arms about her, foolish to wish that he might embrace her again, only this time without pausing to remember all the reasons he should not. But when Alaric did nothing beyond glaring at her from across the street, a new sensation began to bubble up inside her. It burgeoned and grew: a mood very different from what she was accustomed to feeling in his presence.

"I think ... I think I ought to be insulted. What are you doing here. Lord Reyne, anyway?"

His angry color had ebbed, only to be replaced by a sudden flood of abashed red."I happened to be passing by, that's all."

"Passing by? But Miss Canfield said you lived at the other end of town. Besides, I thought you'd still be at the Canfields', making arrangements for your wedding."

"And so I should be, if I had any sense. Miss East, go into the house before you catch your death."

"I will!” In slippered feet, Sarah trotted up the steps, preparing to slam her way into the house and never give Lord Reyne a backward glance. But, putting her hand to the brass knob in the center of the door, she found it would not turn! She tried it again, a frustrated moan escaping her lips.

"Go on,” Alaric said from the street.

"Don't you think I want to?” she asked, glaring at him with hot eyes. “It's locked. Someone locked it."

He stepped up to stand beside her, and Sarah pulled her dressing gown more tightly around her. Impatiently, Alaric raised his fist to knock on the door. Sarah put her hand on his arm. “Don't. If the butler tells my aunt about this, she'll think I've lost my mind."

"So, you're not entirely dead to propriety."

"I don't know what you mean. Mr. Atwood simply stopped in to give me a letter for Harmonia."

"Where is it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"If you expect me to believe that highly unlikely story, I want to see this so-called letter."

Sarah plunged her hand into the patch pocket of her robe. “Here it is and ... oh. I left it in the house."

"As I thought."

"Besides, it's Harmonia's. You couldn't read it, even if I had it with me. That wouldn't be right."

"Kindly keep off irrelevant side issues, if you can."

"It's not I who can't keep my mind on the business at hand. However am I to get in again?” She looked at the shiny white door with anger sparking in her grey eyes. As if she'd not taken about all the abuse she could for one night!

He searched the front of the house. “Could there be an open window somewhere?"

"There shouldn't be. My aunt is severe on the idea of burglary. All the servants have been warned."

"What about that one?” He pointed to the tiny opening at the base of one of the morning room windows. The marble still was perhaps eight or nine feet above the street, set in the brick wall. Though the closest window to the door, it was too far away to be reached even from the top step.

Taking Sarah roughly by the arm, he led her to stand beneath it. “If I lift you up, can you open that window and climb in?''

"Of course I could. But there's another ..."

"Be quiet. Miss East. I'll do you this favor, but then our association is at an end. I have been grossly deceived in your nature and have no wish to continue our acquaintance."

Wishing she could kick him in revenge for his odious tone of superiority, Sarah stamped her foot, a mistake as her slippers were thin. Through a sudden tide of tears, which she put down to the pain in her foot, Sarah glowered at him and replied, “That pleases me above all things, my lord."

Meeting her gaze, Alaric regretted the strange impulse that had sent him walking home from the Canfields’ soiree. He seriously resented Mr. Canfield's presumption in announcing an undiscussed wedding date, and had hardly stayed long enough to hear the first congratulations. His thoughts dwelling on the unpleasant situation Mr. Canfield had forced upon Lillian and himself, Alaric did not think of the path his feet were taking until he looked up and saw Sarah East letting a strange man out of her great-aunt's house.

"What does this supposed letter say? Did he tell you that?"

"It explains why he cannot marry Harmonia. Are you going to lift me up, or are we to stand here until the watch comes round?"

In answer, he turned her so her back was to him. His hands squeezed against the quilting over her rib cage, but it was not this pressure that made her breath come short. Sternly, Sarah took herself to task for responding even inwardly to his touch. He'd made his attitude toward her absolutely clear. She was, in his eyes, low and contemptible.

"Go on,” she said, bracing her hands on his.

He lifted her as though she were of no weight, without jerks or panting effort. Sarah reached out. Though she struggled, she could not quite manage to lift the window. It slid upwards a scant inch and stuck. Sarah gritted her teeth and tried again, to no avail. She'd slid down between his hands and his strength began to hurt her. “Put me down,” she gasped.

Standing, she bent this way and that to try and ease her sides, which felt as if they'd collapsed. “You didn't have to hold me so hard."

His face was heated from his exertions. “You would have rather I dropped you? Move aside; I'll do it.” He put her out of the way with one hand.

Sarah watched as he stretched upwards to attempt to reach the window. Even in her exasperation, she could not but recall the glimpses she'd had of his person under other circumstances. She could imagine the flexing of his muscles and the rippling play of his skin as he reached up. Though the lateness of the hour had brought a chill with it, Sarah felt too warm.

With the intention of irritating him, she said, “Shall I fetch you a footstool from across the street? That window's a good two feet higher than you can reach. Do you want to pick me up again?'’ She hoped he'd refuse, yet her heart sank when he did.

"No, that's worse than useless. I'm afraid you'll just have to face your butler."

"Are you willing to listen to my alternative? After all, it won't look very good for you either, me in my nightclothes, as you pointed out."

"Very well. What brilliant scheme have you?"

Sarah explained.

"That's won't work. He's bound to suspect something. People don't call at half-past eleven."

"Yes, but a mere butler isn't very likely to question the Earl of Reyne, is he? Just be haughty and look down your nose. That's right, like that."

His scowl darkened. “Why can't Atwood marry Harmonia?"

"What? Oh, are you still harping on that! He can't marry her because he married a woman named Lucy while in Scotland! I don't think he wanted to. It sounded as if her father made him do it."

"That's preposterous. What any woman could find attractive about Atwood is beyond me. Yet you seem to expect me to believe that armies of girls are hurling themselves at him every minute of the day and night."

"I expect you to believe nothing but the truth!"

"Keep your voice down. Miss East, or not all your subterfuge will serve you. Hide in the shadows by the steps, and I thank God this is the last scrape I ever need rescue you from.” With that, he stomped up the steps, his broad shoulders squared.

His knock at the locked door sounded like the hooves of the Four Horsemen. When the portal did not instantly open, he thundered at it again. At last, Mrs. Whitsun's butler appeared. “My lord Reyne? What is it?” he inquired tremulously. “Has there been an accident?"

"Not yet,” Alaric replied grimly. “I'll wait for your mistress in here.” He pushed by the elderly servant with more discourtesy than Sarah had ever seen him use. The butler looked heavenward as though asking for help to deal with the humors of hasty young bucks and slowly closed the door. Sarah listened anxiously, but did not hear the snap of bolts being thrown. From the morning room, she heard Alaric say, “Come in here and light more candles. It's dark as a funeral."

"Very good, my lord."

Sarah pushed open the door. She took the stairs two at a time and in a moment was safely on the landing. After kicking off her slippers, she tore her robe half-off. Then, she had a ghastly thought.

Without pausing to reclaim her footwear, Sarah dashed down the stairs and burst into the morning room in the nick of time! Alaric had already Mr. Atwood's letter in his hand, peering at the red blob of wax with which it was sealed.

"Give me that!” Sarah demanded, approaching with her hand held out. When he hesitated, she snatched it from him and jammed it into the bodice of her robe. Defiantly, she crossed her arms.

"Sarah,” he said, a frown drawing his brows down over his eyes. He dared not look down, for the sight of her bare pink toes caused a strange constriction in his heart.

"You should not call me that, not if you think what you have been thinking about me."

"Let me see that letter."

"No. It should be seen by Harmonia before anyone else. It ... it's going to break her heart, and it's not fair that anyone else should see it first."

"I demand to see it!"

"Sssh!” Sarah waved her hand at him for silence and turned her head to listen. If the butler heard that shout ... A quick flick against her breastbone and the letter was once more in Alaric's hand. She jumped for it, but he held it over his head. “Return that at once!"