Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires (21 page)

“I didn't realize.”

With a nod of understanding, Lady Duncaster leaned back against her seat. “George and I were very fortunate to marry for love, Lady Sarah. If there's any possibility that you might do the same, I strongly urge you to do what you can in order to make it happen.” She laughed, not with humor but with sadness. “It's very odd, knowing George is no longer with me—­that I'll never hear his voice again or find him striding through a door in search of me—­and that I've somehow managed to go on without him. There's an emptiness within me. No, that's not the right word . . . hollowness is better suited when it comes to describing the peculiar vacancy that's taken up residency in my heart and soul. It helps to fill the house with ­people.”

“You were fortunate,” Sarah said, her eyes watering at the pain Lady Duncaster had been forced to endure by losing her husband. “Most ­people of our set marry for convenience and then go on to live separate lives. A love match is rare.”

“And yet it does look as though you have the chance to make one.” A pleasant smile stretched its way across Lady Duncaster's face. “That makes you lucky as well, even if you choose to turn your back on it, though I daresay doing so would be incredibly foolish.”

“I suppose it would be,” Sarah agreed for the sole purpose of making the conversation easier. She didn't want to talk about Lord Spencer or the potential for falling in love with him anymore. Her heart ached at the very thought of it, of how impossible it would be for her to even consider marrying him without him discovering that she wasn't the innocent young lady he thought her to be. He'd resent her, and living with that for the rest of her life would be so much harder than sharing a future with somebody else.

 

Chapter 11

T
he following day, after luncheon, the guests congregated on the lawn, where the egg and spoon race was scheduled to start the game day. Taking her position next to Alice and Juliet, who'd been looking forward to that afternoon's events with great enthusiasm, Sarah held her spoon steady, balancing the egg that lay on top of it, as she waited for the sound of a whistle to announce the start of the race, which consisted of eight competitors, including Lady Fiona.

The instant the whistle sounded, Sarah leapt into a run. The egg wobbled precariously as she moved into the lead, but once she'd gained the advantage, she found a steady pace that kept the egg stable. Now all she had to do was reach the chair that had been placed at the end of the track, circumvent it and return to her starting position. The task was easily accomplished, to the great disappointment of her sisters, who soon decided that the apple bobbing contest was far more to their liking.

“You weren't exaggerating about your egg and spoon racing skills,” Chloe said as she approached Sarah with Lord Spencer at her side.

“I rather pity the other contestants,” Lord Spencer said with a hint of amusement. “They didn't stand a chance.”

Sarah smiled at both of them. She felt exultant, not only because of the win but also because she'd clearly impressed Lord Spencer, the way he'd impressed her with skipping stones. It felt wonderful, considering that carrying an egg a hundred feet could hardly be compared to playing Beethoven's
Für Elise
with flawless accuracy. Her talent was quirky at best, yet it was clear to her that Spencer approved, which in turn made her insides melt. “Perhaps I should join my sisters in bobbing apples. I'm terrible at that, since I can't seem to help myself from breathing through my nose, which in turn makes me cough and sputter.”

“In that case, I'd advise against it,” Mr. Denison said as he sidled up to Sarah. He greeted Chloe with an elegant bow. Raising his chin, he acknowledged Lord Spencer with a polite nod.

“You don't care for games, Mr. Denison?” Lord Spencer inquired.

“Not when they result in foolish and unladylike behavior,” Mr. Denison said.

Lord Spencer's brow furrowed. “Are you saying that Lady Sarah would be foolish and unladylike if she were to participate in the apple bobbing contest?”

Sarah cringed. She did not want him to intervene on her behalf lest it result in Mr. Denison saying something untoward, which Sarah considered a real possibility. Mr. Denison had not been pleased to discover that Lord Spencer's ride with Victoria and Diana had failed to cement a deeper acquaintance. He had in fact complained about it incessantly the previous day, going so far as to blame Sarah for Lord Spencer's lack of interest in his daughters.

Chloe chuckled. “Honestly, Spencer, must you be so serious? Mr. Denison is only trying to protect Lady Sarah's reputation.”

“Precisely,” Mr. Denison said. He caught Sarah's eye and smirked. “After all, a lady is nothing without her reputation. Is she, my lady?”

If a fiery pit of eternal suffering had opened up in the ground at that moment, Sarah would happily have jumped straight into it. That Mr. Denison would deal such a blow to her in front of Chloe and Lord Spencer was beyond the pale.

Struggling to maintain her composure, she said, “How right you are, Mr. Denison. I only thought my sisters might appreciate the opportunity to get back at me for beating them so thoroughly at the egg and spoon race, but I see now that it would be most unwise.”

“Do you see how fortunate I am?” Mr. Denison said, addressing Chloe and Lord Spencer. “To marry a lady who's sensible enough to defer to her husband's better judgment is indeed a blessing.”

At this, Chloe opened her mouth, closing it again when Sarah met her gaze and shook her head. The last thing Sarah needed was for Mr. Denison to disapprove of her friends and insist she stay away from them.

Lord Spencer, on the other hand, quickly remarked, “While I see your point, I do think I would like to encourage independent thought in the lady I marry.”

Mr. Denison didn't even try to hide the look of amusement that settled upon his face. “You say so now because you're still a bachelor, Lord Spencer, but I can tell you from experience that there is nothing more trying than an opinionated wife.”

“An interesting perspective,” Lord Spencer murmured, “though I would imagine that her opinion of you would be of some relevance.”

“Which is why I have every intention of assuring her affection by seeing to her every need,” Mr. Denison said.

The double entendre wasn't lost on Sarah. She feared it might not be lost on Lord Spencer either, for his eyes narrowed into two fine slits as he stared back at Mr. Denison.

Worried one of the men might say something regrettable, Sarah said, “I still think the apple bobbing might be fun to watch.”

“Wouldn't you prefer to see the archery contest?” Mr. Denison asked. “Word has it Lady Duncaster plans on competing, which is certainly something I'd like to witness.”

“A splendid idea,” Lord Spencer said.

Sarah nodded her head in agreement.

“As much as I would like to join you, I think I'd prefer a seat in the shade along with a cool glass of lemonade,” Chloe said. “Congratulations once again on your win,” she told Sarah before biding Mr. Denison a pleasant afternoon and turning toward the refreshment tent.

“Well then,” Lord Spencer said, swatting away a bothersome fly. “I do believe we ought to make our way over to the large lawn if we're to watch the archery contest.”

“I'll bet you ten pounds Lady Duncaster wins,” Mr. Denison said.

Lord Spencer slanted a look in his direction. “I'd be a fool to accept such a wager, since I have every confidence in the lady.”

Mr. Denison snorted. “She's quite peculiar, but I daresay it's impossible not to like her.”

“I'm surprised you think so,” Lord Spencer muttered. “After all, she does belong to the more opinionated variety of women.”

Sarah groaned. If only Lord Spencer would stop provoking Mr. Denison. She had no doubt that he was doing it deliberately. And of course Mr. Denison responded to each of Lord Spencer's thinly veiled criticisms with rejoinders that, however polite they sounded, soon conveyed Mr. Denison's growing dislike for Lord Spencer.

“Shall we compete against each other on the balancing beam?” Lord Spencer asked once the archery tournament had been completed with Lady Duncaster as the winner. For some reason he'd accepted Mr. Denison's wager and now appeared eager to even the score. “All you have to do is knock me into the water, unless of course I knock you down first.”

“Sounds like a fine bit of sportsmanship, my lord. I do believe I'd enjoy the chance to prove my stamina.” Taking Sarah's arm, Mr. Denison started toward the lake with a loud chuckle.

“I admire your confidence,” Lord Spencer said dryly as he followed behind them.

So did Sarah. Surely Mr. Denison did not imagine himself capable of beating Lord Spencer? It was certainly possible for a man to be physically fit at the age of five and forty, but one need only take one glance at Mr. Denison to realize he was anything but. His large stomach proved it.

Arriving at the lakeside, they joined the group of spectators, many of whom were busily placing bets on the two gentlemen who were currently competing. Sarah recognized one of them as the Earl of Montsmouth, because she'd danced with him once, a long time ago.

Standing on the balance beam that had been linked between two rafts so it could stay afloat out on the lake, Montsmouth held the baton with which he was supposed to topple his opponent into the water.

“Please put me down for five pounds on the Earl of Chadwick,” Lord Spencer said to the Duke of Pinehurst, who'd taken charge of the betting book. Mr. Denison, of course, immediately made a counter bet of seven pounds on the Earl of Montsmouth.

Sarah tried hard not to roll her eyes, a chore that was proving increasingly difficult. “Is Lord Chadwick a friend of yours?” she asked Lord Spencer.

“We studied at Eton together and later at Cambridge, so I've known him for many years and consider him the very best of friends. He's quite fun and much more charming than I. The ladies simply adore him.” Lowering his head, he whispered close to her ear, “Which is why I haven't introduced you to him yet.”

“What was that?” Mr. Denison asked while a wave of heat engulfed Sarah's entire body.

Leaning forward so he could meet Mr. Denison's eye, Lord Spencer said, “I was just saying that it will be entertaining to see which one of them gets wet.”

Mr. Denison grunted. “Chadwick will,” he said.

Concentrating on the competition, Lord Spencer didn't respond. For which Sarah was grateful. She wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to stand the competitive remarks between the two of them. Thankfully both would soon be out on the lake and she would be offered a short reprieve.

She watched as Montsmouth pressed Chadwick backward, convinced that Chadwick would lose his footing and stumble. He didn't. It was as if the soles of his boots were glued to the beam of wood beneath him. He crouched low and flung his baton sideways, hitting Montsmouth just below the knees and knocking him off balance. A loud splash followed and then an eruption of voices as the crowd cheered the victor.

“I suppose we're even now,” Mr. Denison said gruffly. “I won the bet with Lady Duncaster, and you've won the one with Lord Chadwick. Shall we see which one of us wins against the other?”

Sarah considered saying that Lord Spencer hadn't had much of a choice in the archery contest, but she thought better of it. It would serve no purpose other than to make it look as if she was supporting Lord Spencer, when her loyalty ought to lie with the man she was going to marry. Even if she could barely stand him.

Lord Spencer and Mr. Denison waited until Chadwick and Montsmouth had been rowed ashore. Congratulating Chadwick on his win, Lord Spencer and Mr. Denison then climbed into the boat and were quickly taken out to the two rafts, where footmen handed them each a baton.

Sarah could hardly stand to watch. Worst of all, she wanted Lord Spencer to win. “Would you care to place a bet, my lady?” Pinehurst asked.

“One pound on Mr. Denison,” she told him dutifully. Her parents hadn't given her the usual allowance before coming to Thorncliff, which, Sarah suspected, was meant to encourage her to find Mr. Denison all the more appealing. She could scarcely afford the one pound, never mind the prospect of losing it, which of course would be inevitable.

“He does look a bit top-­heavy, don't you think?”

Stifling a grin, Sarah turned her head to find that Lady Fiona had joined her. “I can't believe you would say such a thing about your own brother.”

Lady Fiona's lips twitched. “Don't be daft. You know perfectly well who I'm talking about.” They watched as the two men stepped out onto the balance beam from either end, moving toward each other with careful steps. “There's bound to be a very big splash when Mr. Denison falls in and—­”

The splash came sooner than expected.

“Oh dear,” Sarah muttered. Dead silence followed a number of gasps, and then, an explosion of uproarious laughter.

“Oh,” Lady Fiona said, clutching her stomach. She could not control her mirth. Or perhaps she simply didn't bother trying. “Poor Spencer! To lose an opponent so quickly can't be very rewarding.”

Still standing on the balance beam, Lord Spencer bowed to the crowd onshore while Mr. Denison splashed around in the water. Sarah squinted. “Good Lord,” she murmured. “I don't believe he knows how to swim.”

Lady Fiona instantly stopped laughing, as did everyone else. Concerned comments wove their way through the crowd. Somebody called for help. Another splash sounded, and Sarah saw that Lord Spencer had dived into the lake and was swimming toward Mr. Denison, who was now spending more and more time below the surface than above it. Reaching him, Lord Spencer grabbed onto Mr. Denison, hauling him upward, but it was clear from Mr. Denison's frantic movements that he was in a state of panic. Worse than that, it looked as though he was trying to climb onto Lord Spencer, thus pushing Lord Spencer down.

“Dear Lord, they're both going to drown at this rate,” someone muttered.

Sarah's heart stilled. She could not breathe. If anything happened to Lord Spencer . . .
Please, God, let him be all right
. The footman with the boat started rowing toward them as Mr. Denison cried for help, splashing frantically while pushing Lord Spencer under. When the footman eventually reached the pair, Lord Spencer was holding the limp body of Mr. Denison in an armlock while treading water.

“Is he dead?” Fiona asked in a low whisper.

“I don't know,” Sarah said. She watched silently as the footman hauled Mr. Denison into the boat, then helped Lord Spencer up into it as well. As soon as he was safely inside, she released a deep, shuddering breath.

“What happened?” Lady Duncaster asked, arriving at the scene just as the rowboat hit the embankment and men stepped forward to help Lord Spencer and Mr. Denison back onto dry land, laying the latter flat on the ground. Lady Fiona immediately ran forward to fling her arms around her brother, just as Sarah longed to do. She'd never been so relieved before in her life.

“Apparently he couldn't swim,” Lord Spencer said, accepting a towel from a nearby footman.

“Of all the foolish things,” Lady Duncaster said. She leaned over Mr. Denison and peered down at him. “Looks like he's still breathing.”

“He ought to be fine once he comes to,” Lord Spencer said.

“I take it you knocked him unconscious?” Lady Duncaster asked.

“I had no choice.”

“Well, I daresay nobody will blame you, given the circumstances,” Lady Duncaster said. Sarah disagreed. She was quite certain Mr. Denison would blame Lord Spencer a great deal.