Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires (16 page)

 

Chapter 8

“I
sn't it exciting?” Lady Andover asked the following day in reference to the upcoming ball, which had been announced that day at luncheon. She was having tea with her daughters in a shaded corner of the terrace, while her husband had gone for a ride with Mr. Denison. “And to think that Lady Duncaster has been considerate enough toward the children to arrange a separate room in which they may dance with their governesses and maids in attendance is quite remarkable. It will give the two of you a wonderful opportunity to practice the steps your instructor has taught you,” she said, addressing Alice and Juliet.

“Just as long as I won't be paired off with an eight-­year-­old,” Alice said, looking not the least bit thrilled with the prospect.

“Nonsense, my dear,” Lady Andover said, waving her hand dismissively. “You will dance with your sister.”

Alice and Juliet exchanged a glance and groaned. Sarah didn't blame them. They'd been dancing with each other for over a year now and were surely eager to partner with boys their own age. Not much chance of that happening anymore. Sarah had wrecked such an opportunity for them, though she herself was of the opinion that a girl in search of ruination would not be deterred by an overbearing parent. “It is certainly an evening for us all to look forward to,” Sarah said, even though she did not enjoy the prospect of dancing with Mr. Denison.

Later, when her sisters decided to join a game of croquet being played on the lawn, Sarah's stepmother leaned forward in her seat. “How are things progressing between you and Mr. Denison?” she asked.

Reaching for her teacup, Sarah raised it to her lips and took a sip. If only it were filled with stronger stuff. Like brandy. “Fine,” she managed.

“Really? You don't sound convincing, Sarah.”

Setting down her cup, Sarah forced herself to look Lady Andover in the eye. “What do you expect? He's old enough to be my father.”

“And you were hoping for a young and handsome gentleman, I suppose?”

“I was hoping I'd have a choice.”

“Well, you don't. It was difficult enough for your father to find one man willing to marry you, never mind two. And don't be discouraged by his age, Sarah. There are benefits to having a more mature husband.”

Whatever those benefits might be, they eluded Sarah.

“It's just . . .” Sarah hesitated, suddenly overcome by emotion now that she was faced with the chance to confide everything she'd learned about Mr. Denison's character. She drew a shaky breath. “He's said some very troubling things to me.”

Lady Andover frowned. “Such as?”

Encouraged, Sarah lowered her voice to a whisper. “He clearly has certain . . . expectations.” Closing her eyes briefly, she struggled to go on. “Expectations of a physical nature, Mama.”

“Well of course he does,” Lady Andover said. “He's a man, and you're to be his wife.”

“But the things he has said to me . . . the implications . . .”

“You're practically an innocent, Sarah. I'm sure you're making more of this than necessary, and considering what a nice man Mr. Denison is, you're doing him a great disser­vice by implying that he's done something wrong.”

“He threatened to strike me if I give him trouble!”

“You must have shown him your willful side, then. I have warned you about that. Repeatedly.” She sipped her tea while Sarah stared at her. “Just be a good wife, and I'm sure he'll treat you well. He's told me he cannot wait to show you your new home.”

Any hope Sarah had of avoiding the future her parents had prepared for her shattered. “You don't care about me at all, do you?”

Lady Andover straightened herself. “I've loved you as best I could, considering you were not my own flesh and blood. You were very difficult as a child, always scampering about and doing things a little girl oughtn't do, like climbing trees and getting your gowns muddy. Frankly, I wasn't surprised to learn that you'd lost your innocence.”

“Mr. Harlowe assured me that he would marry me,” Sarah said in a voice so small it was barely audible.

Lady Andover shook her head. “Considering your very own mother abandoned you, I find that extraordinarily naïve.”

Sarah winced, pained by the hateful comment. Anger was swift to follow. Stiffening her spine, she raised her chin a notch and said, “Perhaps if you had done your duty and shown an interest in me, advised me and warned me that men will say whatever they must to get what they want, then maybe things would have been different.”

A deprecating smirk curled Lady Andover's lips. “You're a grown woman, Sarah. It's time you took responsibility for your own actions.”

“And so I shall,” Sarah said, her chest tightening as she rose to her feet and stared down at her stepmother. “But it still won't absolve you of your careless disregard toward me.”

“Sarah,” Lady Andover hissed, “you—­”

“I can only hope that Alice and Juliet will be better served by you than I have been,” Sarah added, and then, without waiting for a reply, she walked away, glad to have finally vented some of the things that had been on her mind for years.

“H
ave you seen Lady Sarah today?” Laura asked as she cast her fishing line into the lake. Her face was shaded from the hot sun by the wide brim of her straw bonnet.

Christopher shook his head. He'd waited for her that morning, hoping she would join him for another sunrise, but she had not appeared, and eventually he'd returned to the house, where he'd breakfasted with the Earl of Woodford—­a quietly reserved gentleman who'd arrived at Thorncliff a few days earlier. Christopher hadn't lingered in the dining room, thinking he might run into Lady Sarah in the garden a little later instead, but she had remained absent, while his mind had remained full. Of her.

He would probably have seen her at luncheon, now that he thought about it, but he'd missed that meal, since, upon returning to his room with the intention of taking a short rest after his obligatory ride with Miss Diana and Miss Victoria, he'd actually fallen asleep for two full hours. What irked him the most was that she was probably spending time with Mr. Denison instead, for Christopher had not seen him either.

“Not yet,” he told his sister now. Once he'd made the decision not to sit around waiting for Lady Sarah to make an appearance, he'd eagerly agreed to take Laura out in a boat so she could make a go at fishing, which was apparently something she'd wished to try for a long time. Besides, he liked to row. It soothed him, and soothing was something he definitely required, considering how agitated all thought of Lady Sarah made him these days. Had she even liked the gift he'd sent to her room for her to discover? “I quite like her, in case you're wondering,” Laura said.

Christopher eyed her carefully. Yesterday it had been Fiona, and now it was Laura. He sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage any of his female relations to start making wedding preparations. That would certainly be putting the cart before the horse. “I didn't realize you'd spent enough time in her company to form an opinion,” he said, watching with interest as one mayfly chased another across the water, rippling the surface.

Laura didn't respond immediately, her attention seemingly fixed upon the point at which her fishing line pierced the water, but then she turned her head toward him, squinting a little against the sun as she said, “It's true that I haven't had the opportunity to speak with her much, but I have seen her in your company. She pleases you, Kip—­I know this because your expression has eased a little since making her acquaintance. On one occasion I even saw you smile.”

“She's quite outspoken,” he said. “I like that.”

“Hmm . . .” Laura smiled. “I think she likes you too. You're not the only one who appears more animated than usual when you are together.”

“But Mr. Denison—­”

“Doesn't stand a chance compared with you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Laura grinned. “Oh, you know me, Kip. I'm a veritable romantic, so there's always the chance that I'm reading too much into it, though I will say this: Lady Sarah initially struck me as a somber sort, but when she's with you, her face brightens with a radiance that threatens to outdo the sun. Mr. Denison does not have that effect on her.”

“I can tell you're a writer, Laura. Your words are most poetic.”
And uplifting
. Picking up the oars, Christopher started rowing them back toward the lakeside.

“Is that the end of our expedition, then?” Laura asked.

“Yes. Sorry about that,” he said.

“But I haven't managed to catch any fish yet.”

“Perhaps you can make another attempt from land. At any rate, I find there is a lady with whom I need to speak.”

“Does she by any chance have white-­blonde hair and light blue eyes?” Laura's voice was practically ringing with laughter as she spoke.

“She might,” Christopher acquiesced.

“Then by all means, don't let me stop you. Row as fast as you can!”

Putting all the strength of his arm muscles into the effort, Christopher proceeded to do precisely that, reaching the shore much faster than he'd anticipated, which resulted in a jolt that almost threw his sister overboard. “Forgive me,” he said, offering her his hand in order to help her disembark.

“I can manage from here,” she said as soon as they were safely back on steady ground. “In fact, I see a lovely spot over there below that weeping willow. I shall fish from there.” And then she strode off with a brisk pace that brooked no argument.

Turning toward the house, Christopher scanned the garden as he crossed the lawn until he spotted Lady Sarah's sisters keeping company with their maid. He hurried toward them, tipping his hat in salute as he approached the two young ladies. “Good afternoon,” he said.

“Good afternoon, Lord Spencer,” they both replied, beaming with beatific smiles, while the maid acknowledged him with a simple, “my lord.”

“I was hoping to have a word with Lady Sarah. Do any of you know where I might find her?” he asked.

“We left her with Mama on the terrace almost an hour ago so we could join in a game of croquet,” Lady Juliet said. “She might still be there.”

“But if she isn't, I know she was planning to visit the orchard this afternoon, so you might want to look for her there,” Lady Alice supplied.

“Thank you, ladies,” Christopher said, “your help is much appreciated.”

But when he arrived at the orchard after a pointless trip to the terrace, he found the place empty. Not even a lonely gardener could be seen. For the first time since his arrival at Thorncliff, Christopher wished the estate was not so large and that it would be both quicker and easier to locate ­people. Sighing with disappointment, he crossed toward a cherry tree and reached up, plucking an almost ripe cherry from one of the branches. He popped it in his mouth, flinching a little in response to the tart flavor. As much as he loved the fruit, he had to admit that they weren't quite ready for picking. Well, he might as well go back to the house, he supposed. In all likelihood, Lady Sarah would be there relaxing in one of the salons while he wore the grass thin looking for her outside.

He'd just started back toward the entrance of the orchard, when a loud “I've got it!” reached his ears.

Christopher froze. He knew that voice and the lady it belonged to. Lady Sarah was indeed somewhere close by, though he failed to see her even when he crouched lower so as to look below the branches of the many trees. Moving in the direction from which her voice had come, he passed between neat rows of apple trees and pear trees until he reached the far end of the orchard where a low stone wall separated it from the meadow beyond. And there, sitting amidst a field of clover, was Lady Sarah, with a great big grin on her lovely face. Christopher almost forgot to breathe, so taken was he by her natural beauty, but just as he was about to make his presence known to her, she turned her head until her eyes met his, and her smile immediately broadened, if such a thing were possible. Laura was right, Christopher realized. Lady Sarah did indeed welcome his company.

“Lord Spencer,” she said, moving to rise. “You've certainly found me in quite a state.”

“Please don't get up on my account,” he said. “You look so lovely there—­like a fairy queen from a magical tale. Allow me to join you instead.”

“Your compliment is welcome, my lord, but are you sure? I wouldn't want you to ruin your clothes on my account.”

“Are your clothes ruined?” he asked as he climbed over the wall and went toward her.

Her expression was a little sheepish when she replied, “I've acquired a few grass stains that won't be gotten rid of too easily.”

“May I see?”

“Certainly not,” she laughed as he plopped down beside her, “they're on my bottom.”

He tried to school his features even though he couldn't help but say, “It wouldn't be the first time I've had the pleasure of viewing you from that particular angle.”

She looked momentarily taken aback, and for a second he regretted his attempt at lighthearted humor. Perhaps he'd gone too far? But then the most extraordinary thing happened. Her laughter deepened until her eyes began to water, and he suddenly realized that he was laughing as well.

“Lord Spencer,” she said as soon as she'd gotten herself under control once more, “I don't mean to shock you, but it does look as though you're enjoying yourself.” Before he could respond, she added, “I'm sorry for not thanking you sooner for that wonderful gift you sent up to my room yesterday. Snowball is extremely pleased with it, as am I, but you see, I have been delaying our meeting again until I'd found something with which to repay you.”