Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires (26 page)

“Surely we're not discussing Lady Sarah?” Lord Oakland said, his voice both grave and pensive.

“We are indeed,” Christopher confessed.

Lord Oakland frowned. “I see.” His frown deepened. “Treason is a very serious offense, Spencer.”

“I am aware of that,” Christopher said. “But is it fair that she should suffer just because she allowed the attentions of a man she did not truly know? Is her situation really so much different from my own?”

“I gather she was not aware of her beau's transgressions?”

“Of course not! How can you even suppose such a thing?”

“Calm yourself. I'm only trying to get all the facts.” Lord Oakland studied his son. “You're certain of her innocence though? That she did not collaborate with this man?”

“It was Harlowe, Papa,” Christopher said as he leaned back against a plump cushion.

“I suspected it might have been.” There was a moment's silence before Lord Oakland said, “Have you confronted her with your knowledge about this past connection of hers?”

“No.”

“You should, because I'll tell you this much, Spencer; I find it highly unlikely that Lord and Lady Andover would insist on marrying their eldest daughter to a man like Mr. Denison if her only fault was that she'd once encouraged the attentions of Harlowe.”

“There's also the matter of Lord Andover's interest in Mr. Denison's horses. I believe this to be the real incentive for the match.”

“However keen Lord Andover may be on horses, I very much doubt Mr. Denison's are enough to prompt the earl to offer up his eldest daughter. If you ask me, there's something more to it. And don't forget that while you were absent from England at the time, your mother and I were not. Harlowe was a marquess and considered most eligible, so we would have known if he and Lady Sarah had formed an attachment, since we were hoping to pair either Laura or Emily with him.”

“Thank God you didn't.”

“For which we may have Lady Sarah to thank. But since nobody else knew what Harlowe had done at the time, I don't think anyone would fault Lady Sarah even if she
had
become affianced with him, which again suggests that her connection to Harlowe cannot be all there is to it, unless of course she was aware of his transgressions and chose to turn a blind eye because of some misplaced sense of duty.”

“I don't believe she would have done that.”

“Which takes us straight back to the question of what might have led to her parents' disinterests in arranging a more favorable match for her.”

Christopher sighed. “I cannot imagine.”

Lord Oakland raised an eyebrow. “Well, forgive me for saying this, Spencer, but you certainly know how to pick them, don't you?”

Christopher stiffened in response to the reference to Miss Hepplestone. “Lady Sarah is different,” he said. “She's not a charlatan.”

“That may be true,” Lord Oakland muttered, “but from what I've seen of her, she seems quite prepared to marry Mr. Denison. It makes no sense unless there's something else we do not know about. My advice to you would be to find out what that something might be and how great a threat it may pose to this family.”

It wasn't what Christopher wanted to hear, but he knew his father was right. “I'll do what I can, Papa. I assure you.”

 

Chapter 13

T
hat evening, Lady Sarah couldn't help but feel as though she was out of place amidst the opulence of the Thorncliff ballroom. She was standing in a small group consisting of Chloe, Lady Ravensby, the daughter of the Duke of Hefton, and Lady Forthright, the daughter of the Earl of Rentonbury. Only twice before had she entered a crowded ballroom dressed in her evening finery, but that was so long ago now and overshadowed by such heartache that she would rather forget all about it. Yet here she was, dressed in a silk ice-­blue gown, her necklace and earrings set with diamonds and her hair arranged elegantly at the back of her head, twined with silver ribbons. Hester really had outdone herself, and as a result, Sarah had danced four sets already. Only two more remained, the last one being the waltz.

Her stomach clenched at the thought of being held in Lord Spencer's arms. When Mr. Denison had asked to partner with her for the waltz and she'd had to mention Lord Spencer, Mr. Denison had gone into a quiet rage, which Sarah had found incredibly distressing. And then of course there was her father! Lord, she'd never been so angry with another person in all her life. Apparently, he'd had a very cozy conversation with Lord Spencer the day before, yet her father had failed to mention it to her until that very evening as they'd descended the stairs to the ballroom. That he would allow Lord Spencer to court her if
she
agreed, forcing
her
to deal with the increasingly persistent viscount, was not fair. “You could have made up a story to dissuade him,” Sarah had said.

“You're probably right,” Lord Andover had said, “but he put me on the spot, and I could think of nothing plausible after he offered to buy five horses of my choosing. At least this way I've bought you some time to consider a good excuse.”

Unfortunately, Sarah had failed to think of anything that would dissuade a man like Lord Spencer, other than the absolute truth.

“Are you enjoying your visit here at Thorncliff, Lady Sarah?” Lady Forthright asked. A close friend of Chloe's, she'd married quite young. Although she wasn't a beauty by any means, her eyes were unusually sharp and assessing—­the sort that added character.

“Very much so,” Sarah replied. She had met Lady Forthright during her first and only Season and had liked her a great deal, had even imagined the two of them might be friends, but Sarah had chosen not to pursue any new friendships after disaster had struck. Instead, she'd secluded herself at Andover Park. “It's such a magnificent home, don't you think? We're all very fortunate that Lady Duncaster chose to open her doors to us.”

“We certainly are,” Lady Ravensby agreed. She was another friend of Chloe's and very much in love with her husband if the playful smiles she kept sending across the room to him were any indication. “Why, just look at all the decorations up there beneath the ceiling and the chandeliers shimmering with . . . oh, there must be at least a thousand candles, don't you think?”

Sarah had to agree as she stood there looking up at the light dancing off countless pieces of crystal.

“I hope I'm not interrupting,” a familiar voice inquired.

Lowering her gaze, Sarah found that Lord Spencer had joined them.

“We were just admiring the magnificence of the Thorncliff ballroom,” Lady Ravensby said as she smiled prettily in his direction. “Wouldn't you agree that it is the loveliest you have ever seen?”

“I certainly would,” he replied, his gaze resting steadily on Sarah. Her skin grew warm, her stomach collapsing in on itself until she grew restless. Bowing toward her, he said, “It's almost time for our dance, Lady Sarah.”

“Indeed it is,” Mr. Denison said crisply as he materialized before them, banishing the nervous excitement Lord Spencer had stirred and replacing it with angst. “But before she does, it is my turn to partner with her for a cotillion.” Holding out his hand, he waited with a grim expression for her to accept, which she did with great reluctance, allowing him to lead her away from the one man who'd managed to achieve what she would have thought impossible before coming to Thorncliff—­he'd made her open her heart again. She trusted Lord Spencer not to hurt her, which only made her hate herself so much more for the pain she would surely cause him in return.

“I thought I told you not to keep his company anymore,” Mr. Denison hissed as they broke away from the other dancers to turn about as a pair. “Yet you persist in your folly.”

They danced back, linking hands with others and moving in a circle before breaking off again. “I could hardly deny him the dance when he asked me in front of his family. It would have been unforgivably rude.”

“You could have told him you'd already given it to me,” he snapped.

Sarah knew he was right, but she hadn't wanted to do that. In fact, just the thought of Mr. Denison holding any part of her other than her hand made her skin crawl.

They proceeded to dance a series of elaborate steps consisting mostly of tiny skips, preventing Mr. Denison from commenting further, but as soon as he had the opportunity a ­couple of minutes later, he said, “The way he looks at you is most disagreeable. In fact, it forces me to wonder if you might have allowed him the sort of liberties that you have been denying me.”

Appalled indignation rippled through her, tightening her muscles until she grew completely rigid. “How dare you?” she asked once the dance had ended and he was leading her over to where Lord Spencer waited.

“A man can dare a great deal when the lady has no choice but to submit to his demands.” Placing one hand against her back as he pushed her forward, he slowly stroked her spine. “Don't worry,” he whispered, “I'll drive all thought of the viscount from your mind soon enough.”

They arrived before Lord Spencer, whose eyes were like a pair of dark thunderclouds. “I trust you enjoyed yourselves,” he said more politely than Sarah would have expected.

“Oh yes,” Mr. Denison said happily, without the slightest hint of his dislikeable character. “Lady Sarah is such an exquisite dancer.”

“Then I am even more pleased to have the honor of dancing the waltz with her,” Lord Spencer said, offering her his arm. “Shall we?”

Grateful for the opportunity to remove herself from Mr. Denison's presence, Sarah nodded as she accepted Lord Spencer's offer. She was acutely aware of the anger that simmered beneath Mr. Denison's smile, hating how uncomfortable it made her feel and dreading what it might lead to.

“Is everything all right?” Lord Spencer asked as he led Sarah toward the dance floor. “You seemed a little put out just now.”

“It was nothing,” she said, unwilling to discuss Mr. Denison's vile comments. Knowing Lord Spencer, he'd probably do something heroic, like challenge the man to a duel. As tempting as that idea might be, she could not allow it.

“I only want what's best for you, Sarah.” The lack of the honorific felt most endearing. “And I hope that you feel comfortable enough to confide in me whatever troubles you might have so that I may help you overcome them.”

They took up their positions for the waltz, his hand coming to rest against her lower back. Heat entered her body at the point of contact, coursing through her in little skips and jumps that left her giddy. “Thank you, my lord.” If only she didn't sound so breathless. “Perhaps I will take you up on that offer once the dance is over.” She owed him the truth, no matter how much it pained her.

The music started and he took a step backward, pulling her with him until they were spinning around the dance floor. “You've no idea how happy that makes me.” A warm glow emanated from his eyes. “I've spoken to your father, you see, and he has given me permission to court you. You needn't concern yourself about Mr. Denison anymore.”

“You are exceedingly kind, my lord, to even consider me after our brief acquaintance, but there is something about me that you do not know—­something that will change everything between us and make you regret ever suggesting such an attachment.”

To her surprise, he didn't look the least bit alarmed. In fact, his smile broadened, and he pulled her closer, allowing her to revel in his musky scent and the strength flowing through him. He was in his prime—­a fine specimen of male perfection.

“If it's Harlowe you're concerned about . . .” She tripped in response to that awful name, her heart knocking against her chest, while the palms of her hands grew clammy. “You needn't worry, unless of course you knew of his crimes and—­”

“I did not,” she managed, still trying to recover her scattered nerves.

“I didn't doubt it for a second, but all things considered, I had to ask.” He spun her toward the center of the floor. “You should know that it doesn't matter to me that you might have been interested in him. After all, he would no doubt have made a fine husband if he'd been more honorable.”

“But he wasn't,” she said. On the one hand, she had no wish to crush Lord Spencer's fine impression of her, but on the other, she wanted it all to be out in the open so she could return to reality—­a place where only men like Mr. Denison would want her and where she had no means by which to escape him.

“No. But he is the reason why you were planning to throw your life away on Mr. Denison, isn't he? Because you and your parents didn't think anyone would want to associate with a woman who'd shown an interest in a traitor. You might have been right. But I've gotten to know you, and I've realized that if anyone in this world deserves to be happy, it is you.”

Sarah shook her head. “My lord, I—­”

“You have many commendable qualities, Sarah. Your incredible kindness and consideration toward others—­your selflessness—­are much to be admired. And there has always been an easy repartee between us, even in the beginning, when you were quite determined to vex me.”

“I vex you? My lord, I do believe it was the other way around.”

He chuckled, a rare sound that she wished she could hear more often. “You continue to prove that you are delightful to be around, and I for one can think of no better lifetime companion.”

Heart fluttering in her chest while heat nipped at her skin, Sarah focused her attention on the dance. Somehow she had to finish it without succumbing to panic. She inhaled deeply to calm her nerves before saying, “I thank you, my lord, but I fear you might think too highly of me.”

“Impossible.” His voice was controlled, as though he held a tight rein on his emotions. “This past week has been the best in recent memory, and all because of you. I don't think I need to tell you how much I enjoy your company, for I daresay you feel the same about me.” She jerked her head toward him, unbalanced by his candor. He smiled warmly in return, and she realized immediately that she'd shown him her hand. There would be no point in denying his observation other than to prove herself a liar. He squeezed her hand gently with his own, then added, “I'm not generally demanding, Lady Sarah, but when it comes to you, I
will
do whatever I have to in order to win you.”

They passed a blur of onlookers, and Sarah glimpsed the terrace doors—­large and inviting. Fleetingly, she was struck by the mad idea of making a dash for them.
Freedom
. Would such a thing ever be hers? Or would she always be bound by duty? Once upon a time, it had been to marry well. Now it was to avoid doing so. If only for once in her life she could make a choice that wouldn't spell disaster—­one that would grant her a chance at the happily ever after she'd longed for since she was a little girl.

The dance came to a close without her knowing how it had happened. She'd been in a daze, only now aware that Lord Spencer was guiding her toward the refreshment table. “What the . . .” Coming to a standstill, Lord Spencer gazed down at the treats laid out on silver platters. “Those look like
choux à la crème,
but they cannot possibly be. That is, I cannot possibly believe Lady Duncaster's cook would just happen to have made these.” Amazement filled his eyes as he looked at Sarah. “It's too great a coincidence.”

“I'm sure you're not the only person in England who enjoys them, and Lady Duncaster does have a fondness for cake.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did you say something to her?”

Sarah shrugged. She hadn't done it because she sought his favor but because she wanted him to be able to enjoy his favorite treat once more. “I may have mentioned your partiality in passing.”

“You amaze me,” he said with wonder.

“Why don't you try one?”

Slowly, he broke eye contact with her and picked up one of the pastries. Studying it briefly, he took a bite, his expression turning to one of pure pleasure. “It's perfect,” he said before taking another bite, “absolutely perfect.”

“I'm glad you think so,” she said, unable to stop herself from grinning in response to his undeniable state of euphoria.

“Keep this up and you'll have me wound around your finger for the duration of our marriage.”

His words were like a bucket of ice water, reminding her of their previous conversation, except he'd gone from talking about courting her to referencing an inevitable future with her as his wife. It had to stop. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, knowing he wouldn't understand, “but I cannot marry you. I—­”

“Lord Spencer,” Lady Andover said, cutting Sarah off as she came to stand beside her. “I must say you dance splendidly.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Lord Spencer said, his expression set in firm lines.

Pain filled Sarah's chest as she looked up at him. It was as if a chasm had opened between them, and she suddenly felt more alone than ever before. In that moment, she desperately wished things could have been different between them, and she bitterly resented how silly she'd been to squander her future on a man who'd cared nothing for her.