Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires (18 page)

She halted her progress. “Whyever not?”

“For someone who hasn't even seen my work, you seem surprisingly confident that anyone else would have an interest in, or even appreciate, the models for what they are.”

“You doubt yourself,” she told him matter-­of-­factly. Before he could respond, she said, “I think it's natural for any artist to fear censorship.”

“I'm not an artist, and I don't fear censorship,” he protested. “When I complete my model of Thorncliff, I'll have ten in total. Of course I've considered the possibility of an exhibition, but I doubt anything will ever come of it. My models are a hobby, Lady Sarah, hardly worthy of anyone else's perusal.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And you say you don't fear censorship.” He did not look amused. “I think an exhibition of your models would be a grand way to introduce the public to the incredible architecture of English castles.”

“Why are you so insistent on this?” he asked testily.

“Because I believe in you and the ability you have to do something more with your ‘hobby' than you think possible,” she told him hotly.

He stared at her, then shook his head. “You are being absurdly stubborn right now.”

“I'm trying to be supportive.”

“I appreciate that, Lady Sarah, truly I do, but until you've actually seen one of my models, you really have no idea if I'm deserving of your support or not.”

She decided not to argue even though she was certain his models couldn't be anything short of brilliant—­not if his drawings were any reflection of his skill.

As he guided her forward, they approached the house and, to Sarah's surprise, almost collided with a young lady who was hastily rounding a corner just as they were stepping up onto the terrace. Sarah recognized her immediately as Mary Bourneville, a young lady of roughly her own age, whom she'd met during her first Season and with whom she'd felt the possibility of a strong friendship—­a friendship she'd stopped pursuing after the Gillsborough house party.

“Forgive me,” Lady Mary gasped, a startled expression crossing her face. “I was just returning from an early morning walk—­the weather's so lovely this time of day.”

“Indeed it is,” Lord Spencer said.

Lady Mary smiled brightly. “Well, if you'll please excuse me, I must return upstairs to see to my aunt.” And then, before Sarah could manage a word of greeting or ask Lady Mary if she'd like to join her for breakfast, Lady Mary hurried inside, leaving Sarah alone with Lord Spencer once more.

They stood for a moment in silence until Lord Spencer finally said, “I'm beginning to suspect that Thorncliff Manor might be overrun by adventurous females.”

Sarah gave him a sidelong look. “She was only going for a walk, my lord. There's hardly much adventure in that.”

Shaking his head, Lord Spencer began guiding her toward the door. “I agree,” he said, “but if that is all that young lady was doing, I'll eat my hat.”

A
fter breakfast, Sarah joined Mr. Denison on the terrace for a game of checkers. Thankfully he refrained from making any more lewd remarks and treated her just as politely as he did everyone else.

Her thoughts throughout it all, however, remained on Lord Spencer. Their outing had been a marvelous success even though she'd failed to be as open with him as he'd been with her. Thankfully he'd refrained from pressuring her, veering away from the topic entirely by inquiring about her favorite color, flower and food while comparing her choices to his own. She'd learned that he wasn't fond of strawberries, which had surprised her. Everybody loved strawberries, though apparently not Lord Spencer.

Stop thinking about him, Sarah. He's not for you.

“Diana and Victoria were thrilled with the ride they took with Lord Spencer the other day,” Mr. Denison said as he moved one of his pieces forward, capturing one of Sarah's.

“I'm glad to hear it,” Sarah said. If that were true, there wouldn't be a painful knot in her stomach. Selecting a piece, she moved it toward the king's row, capturing three of Mr. Denison's pieces along the way.

“You're very good at this,” he said.

Sarah didn't think she was particularly skilled at the game, but she thanked him politely for the compliment. “Lord Spencer has also offered to put in a good word on behalf of your daughters with some of the other gentlemen here, so hopefully an offer will be forthcoming for at least one of them before you depart.”

“You've spoken to him again, I take it?” Disapproval was very apparent in his tone.

“It's been difficult not to, considering the task you've given me.”

Mr. Denison captured more of her pieces. “As long as you keep your encounters brief, I see no issue with it—­especially not if you are working in Diana's and Victoria's best interests.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Annoyed by Mr. Denison's high-­handedness, Sarah was pleased to capture his remaining pieces with her king.

He pushed the game aside and leaned toward her, his elbows resting on the table. “Let's not forget that I arranged for him to take them riding. Not you.”

Sarah had meant to ask Spencer about that, but she hadn't wished to ruin their time together with talk of Mr. Denison and his daughters. “Of course,” she said, bowing her head in order to avoid an argument.

But as the day wore on and she was denied the chance to keep anyone else's company, Sarah couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to push Mr. Denison into the lake. Fantastic, she decided, if only she had the courage.

 

Chapter 10

“W
ill you be joining us for the picnic today?” Juliet asked Sarah the following morning. “The weather is marvelous, and we would so love having you along.”

“As would I,” a male voice spoke at Sarah's right shoulder. Turning, Sarah faced Mr. Denison, attempting desperately to feel something for him besides distaste. When he held up a bouquet of lovely roses, she managed a smile and thanked him with grace. He offered her his arm, which she dutifully accepted.

“A picnic sounds lovely,” she said as they walked out into the entrance hall, where servants stood ready with bonnets and gloves. Locating hers, Sarah handed her roses to a maid and set her bonnet on her head. She prepared to tie the ribbon when Mr. Denison said, “Allow me.”

What could she do? Publically protest? Doing so would humiliate him, so she allowed the intimacy, her feet firmly rooted to the ground while his fingers grazed her chin in a manner that showed deliberation. “I cannot seem to resist you,” he whispered.

Clamminess overcame her entire body.

“Ah! Mr. Denison and the lovely Lady Sarah!”

Sarah's heart quickened—­an automatic response, it would seem, whenever Lord Spencer arrived. Pulling on his gloves, he looked at each of them in turn. “I take it you're going on the picnic?”

“Indeed we are,” Mr. Denison said, straightening himself in a manner that drew attention to his portly belly. “In case you were wondering, my daughters have decided to remain here and have a go at the maze. Perhaps you'd care to join them?”

“I believe they will be enjoying Mr. Everett's and Mr. Donahue's company today, so I'm for the picnic. Fine weather for it,” Lord Spencer noted. Gesturing toward the door, he allowed Sarah and Mr. Denison to lead the way. But as they stepped out onto the front step, where the sun spilled over them, he continued past Sarah, his hand unmistakably brushing her elbow, where his fingers seemed to rest for the briefest of seconds. Sarah gasped, completely disarmed by the unexpected gesture.

“What is it?” Mr. Denison inquired as he guided her toward an awaiting carriage.

“Nothing,” she murmured, the heat from Lord Spencer's hand still present upon her skin. “It's merely hotter today than I expected.”

“I'll meet you there,” Lord Spencer called as he swung himself up into the saddle of a fine-­looking horse. The statement was general, yet Sarah sensed that it was directed specifically at her, more so when the rogue looked straight at her and winked. A flutter erupted in the pit of her belly, to which Sarah muttered an oath. Why couldn't Mr. Denison affect her so? Looking to her supposed beau, she scrunched her nose. There were just about a million answers to that question. None of which would make the slightest difference in the end.

“L
et's play a game,” Lady Fiona suggested when everyone had finished their lunch and the footmen had packed away the food. Sitting on a large blanket next to her sister Alice, Sarah stared out over the countryside, enjoying the view from the hilltop.

“What sort of game?” Juliet asked, curious.

“How about cross questions and crooked answers?” Lady Fiona said, her eyes gleaming.

“Oh yes,” Alice said, “I love that game!”

“Who will participate?” Sarah asked.

“You may count me out,” Lady Andover said, to nobody's surprise.

“I don't enjoy games,” Mr. Denison said. Yawning, he swatted away a fly.

“Neither do I,” said Lord Andover.

Lady Duncaster looked as though she was tempted to roll her eyes, but she refrained, while the Oaklands informed everyone that they would go for a stroll instead.

In the end, the players included Alice, Juliet, Lady Fiona, Lady Laura, Lord Spencer, Lady Emily and Sarah. Deciding the youngest player should start, they all listened with interest as Alice turned to Juliet and asked, “What is the use of a pig?”

Smiling, Juliet declared, “To be carved and eaten for supper!”

Turning toward Lady Emily, Juliet then asked, “What is the use of a husband?”

“To supply security for the woman he marries,” Lady Emily replied.

The game continued until Lord Spencer asked Sarah, “What is the use of a hot air balloon?”

“To allow us the pleasure of flying with friends,” she said, her cheeks heating in response to his unexpected reference.

“Shall we see what we've come up with?” Lady Fiona asked after everyone had had a go. “Lady Alice, why don't you give us your question and your answer. And don't forget that if you cannot remember what they are, you must forfeit the game.”

“That won't be a problem for me,” Alice said. “The question asked of me was, what is the use of a velocipede, to which the answer is, of course, to be carved and eaten for supper!”

Everyone laughed at the silliness of that.

“I rather like mine,” Juliet said when they'd gathered their wits. “The question asked of me was, what is the use of a pig, to which the answer is, of course, to provide for the woman he marries.”

More laughter erupted, barely ceasing at all as the rest of the questions and answers were mentioned. “Tell us yours, Lady Sarah,” Lady Fiona urged her when everyone else had had their turn.

Not daring to glance in Lord Spencer's direction, Sarah raised her chin and said, “Very well, the question asked of me was, what is the use of a hot air balloon, and the answer is, of course, to risk life and limb in the stupidest way.”

“Of all the ones we've had, that's the only one that makes any sense,” Lady Laura said, while everyone else agreed. Beside her, Sarah could sense Lord Spencer's presence like a giant wall of discontent. “It appears as though our game has had a sleep-­inducing effect on some of our companions,” Lady Fiona said with a nod toward the Andovers, Lady Duncaster and Mr. Denison. Facing Sarah, she said, “Will you join me for a walk, Lady Sarah?”

“I'd be delighted to,” Sarah replied, grateful for the chance to remove herself from the powerful awareness of Lord Spencer.

But as she rose and went to where Lady Fiona was waiting for her, Lady Fiona said, “You should come as well, Spencer. I haven't seen nearly enough of you lately, and I find that I miss your company.”

“Might I come along too?” Alice asked.

Relieved by her sister's proposition, Sarah was about to say it was a wonderful idea when Lady Laura said, “I was thinking you and I would make daisy chains together with Juliet. We can go on another walk later.”

Deciding she would much rather make daisy chains with Lady Laura, Alice settled back onto the blanket and began picking the flowers closest at hand.

“May I offer you my arm?” Lord Spencer asked as he came up beside Sarah.

She was half tempted to refuse, fearing the feel of his arm beneath her hand would be too overwhelming a sensation in spite of the fabric lying between them. Knowing how impolite it would be of her to do so, however, she swallowed and accepted his offer while trying desperately to ignore the tight knot forming in her belly. Somehow, without being able to explain how it had happened, he'd become increasingly important to her.

“Lady Duncaster told me earlier that there's a path beyond the trees over there that slants down the opposite side of the hill toward the remnants of an old church,” Lady Fiona said, leading the way.

“Sounds intriguing,” Sarah said, her curiosity piqued.

“Did I mention that Lady Sarah has an adventurous streak not entirely dissimilar to your own?” Lord Spencer asked his sister.

Looking over her shoulder briefly, Lady Fiona said, “I wonder if it's ever landed you in as much trouble as it has me.”

“I've had my fair share of misfortunes as a result,” Sarah said, unwilling to be dishonest even if her response did invite more questions.

“Now
I'm
intrigued,” Lord Spencer said. “Care to elaborate?”

“I caught a terrible cold one year after I insisted on going for an afternoon walk when the weather promised rain. I should have stayed home, truth is.”

“I fell from a rafter in the barn a few years back because I thought myself capable of crossing it without losing my balance,” Lady Fiona said. “I was terribly lucky that fresh hay had been brought in that morning and lay in a huge soft heap beneath me.”

“Good heavens,” Sarah exclaimed, struck by how tragic Lady Fiona's daring exploit could have proven otherwise.

“She was thoroughly scolded, as I recall,” Lord Spencer said, “and rightly so. Mama and Papa got a terrible shock, but thankfully you only hurt your wrist a little.”

“I was confined to my room for an entire week,” Lady Fiona said, “and not allowed any dessert.”

“But I took pity on you after a ­couple of days and snuck a few cakes up to you,” Lord Spencer said. He slanted a look in Sarah's direction. “How about you? Were you ever punished for your hoydenish ways?”

Yes!

Filled with discomfort, Sarah nodded her head. The Heartlys were such good ­people, while she was not. She did not deserve their kindness or Lord Spencer's attentions. She deserved Mr. Denison. “I received similar treatment to Lady Fiona in return for my disobedience,” she said. “Unlike her, however, I did not have an older brother who was willing to bring me cake.”

Lord Spencer laughed, and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully they could move on to more lighthearted topics now. She decided to make the attempt. “Lord Spencer tells me he enjoys making replica models of castles, Lady Fiona, but since I cannot rely on his opinion, as subjective as it is, I was hoping you might offer yours.”

“Are you seriously asking my sister to tell you whether or not my work is acceptable?” he asked with mock indignity.

“I am,” Sarah said primly.

“While I'm present?”

“Would you rather we gossip about you behind your back?”

“I'd rather you not gossip at all,” he said, frowning down at her. But his eyes sparkled. “My greatest concern is for Lady Fiona's appreciation of the arts.” Lowering his voice to a loud whisper, he said, “She hasn't much taste as far as that is concerned.”

“I heard that,” Lady Fiona said, coming to a halt at the edge of the hill where the path led down between rows of hedges toward a ruin, just as she'd described. Tilting her head, she looked at Sarah with very serious eyes. “Shall I tell you the truth about my brother's little diversion?”

“Little diversion?” Lord Spencer muttered. “Kill me now, why don't you?”

Sarah tried to contain her laughter, but it was to no avail. Lord Spencer's horrified expression forced the mirth out of her until she overflowed with it. Unfazed, Lady Fiona said quite simply, “His models are splendid, Lady Sarah, with the very finest of details. In truth, he is extraordinarily talented.”

A moment of heavy silence followed. Clearly, Lord Spencer was dumbfounded by his sister's proclamation. Sarah, on the other hand, realized she wasn't surprised at all. There was something determined about Lord Spencer that suggested he was the sort of man who would complete to perfection any task he set for himself.

“I can see I've left you speechless,” Lady Fiona said. Tugging on the bow of her bonnet, she unfastened the silky ribbon and plucked it from her head to reveal her dark brown curls. A moment later the bonnet went sailing through the air until, somewhere further down the hillside, it struck the ground and tumbled into some bushes. “Oh dear.”

“What on earth did you do that for?” Lord Spencer asked with clear exasperation.

“I didn't do anything,” Lady Fiona said. “The wind snatched it right out of my hand!”

“The wind?” Lord Spencer regarded Lady Fiona as if she'd just arrived from another planet. Shaking his head, he released Sarah's arm and started in the direction the bonnet had traveled.

“Don't trouble yourself, Spencer,” Lady Fiona said, rushing ahead of him with such haste that the two almost collided. “I can easily fetch it myself. It won't take long, and when I return, we can go and explore the ruin.” She was off in a flash before anyone could offer a protest.

“It's not the least bit windy, is it?” Sarah asked as she and Lord Spencer watched Lady Fiona descend the hillside toward the bushes below.

He shook his head. “I daresay she threw it very deliberately.”

“Ah.” There was little point in asking why his sister would do such a thing. Especially since it would only lead to more uncomfortable conversation. “Does she know that you have no intention of marrying at present?”

He was silent a moment. “I believe she's hoping to change my mind.”

Sarah dared not ask if Lady Fiona was proving successful in that endeavor. She was afraid that nothing, not even
she,
would sway Lord Spencer's resolve to maintain his bachelorhood. If that was the case, she preferred that he say nothing at all. In the greater scheme of things, it made no difference whether or not he would actually consider a future with her, but to her, it mattered a great deal. Somewhere, deep inside, a fondness for him had begun to bloom, and she did not think she could bear the idea of not affecting him equally. “She does have some firm ideas,” Sarah said, opting for a noncommittal response.

“I ought to set my mind to finding her a husband,” Lord Spencer said, surprising Sarah. “Her sisters are older and ought to marry before her, I suppose, but her boldness concerns me. Another year or two and I fear she'll ruin herself in some mad romantic endeavor.”

“I thought Lady Laura was the romantic one.”

“She writes about romance, Lady Sarah, but she has a sensible head on her shoulders and has never veered from propriety. Fiona, on the other hand . . . she's too spontaneous.”

Sarah hesitated a moment before asking her next question, her fingers curling into tight fists as she did so. “And if Lady Fiona were to risk her reputation for the sake of love? Would you not do everything in your power to help her overcome whatever scandal she might invite?”