Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires (27 page)

“If you'll forgive us, my lord,” Lady Andover said, “there's a pressing family matter that I must discuss with Lady Sarah in private.”

“Of course,” Lord Spencer clipped. He met Sarah's eyes and bowed stiffly. “It was a pleasure.”

Swallowing her heartache, she watched him walk away before following her stepmother through one of the doors leading out into a long hallway. “What is it, Mama?” she asked as they approached one of the salons.

A smile touched Lady Andover's lips. “You'll see soon enough.”

There was something about her stepmother's tone that Sarah didn't like, and when the door to the salon was opened and Sarah was ushered inside, she quickly saw that she'd been right to feel wary.

“What is going on?” Sarah asked upon finding both her father and Mr. Denison present.

Lady Andover closed the door behind her.

“It seems Lord Spencer is proving to be something of a problem,” Lord Andover said. “And you don't seem capable of diminishing his interest, as I'd initially hoped.”

“I've scarcely had any time to do so since you informed me of his intentions,” Sarah complained.

“But there is one solution that ought to discourage him,” Lord Andover said.

“And what is that?” Sarah asked numbly.

“We shall merely have to hasten things along a bit,” Lady Andover remarked.

“Your courtship with Mr. Denison is hereby over. He will make you an offer within the next few minutes which you will not refuse, upon which your engagement to Mr. Denison will be publically announced.”

All warmth left Sarah's body in that instant. It was of course what she had known would eventually happen, but now that it was becoming a reality, she felt as if she was being carted off to the sacrificial pyre. “What if I do refuse?” she found herself saying, astonished by how level her voice sounded.

“Refuse?” Lady Andover screeched. “Are you mad? You cannot refuse!”

Expanding on this, Lord Andover said, “Without an income or a husband to support you, you would soon become destitute.”

“Not if I were to marry Lord Spencer,” Sarah insisted.

“You can't,” Mr. Denison said.

“He's right,” Lord Andover agreed. “Consider Lord Spencer's wrath when he discovers that the woman he married isn't a virgin! There's no telling what he might do or how it might affect your sisters.”

It was the same argument as always, but it was a compelling one. “Very well then,” Sarah said, stiffening her spine with resolve. “Let's get on with it.”

“We'll give you a bit of privacy,” Lord Andover said, crossing to his wife, who was already exiting the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar for the sake of propriety.

“I must say I'm rather pleased with this outcome,” Mr. Denison said as soon as they were alone, approaching Sarah like a weasel seeking out its prey. He stopped before her, so close that Sarah could smell his breath—­an unpleasant scent that reminded her of sour milk. Her stomach roiled. It didn't help that Mr. Denison brushed his fingers against her cheek and cupped her chin. “Will you marry me, Lady Sarah?”

“Perhaps if you ask me properly, I might consider giving you the answer you want.”

He laughed mockingly. “For a woman in your position, I hardly think you've any right to make demands.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “But maybe all you need is a bit of incentive.”

Flinching, Sarah jerked away, but he anticipated her movement and was swiftly upon her, grabbing her by the arms and holding her in place as he bowed his head toward her.

“Stop right there, sir!”

Mr. Denison froze, his mouth twisting into an ugly grimace as he turned his head toward Lord Spencer, who stood in the doorway with Sarah's parents behind him. “This doesn't concern you, my lord,” Mr. Denison sneered.

Raw fury burned in Lord Spencer's eyes. “I disagree,” he said, his voice cold and frighteningly calm.

Being as close as she was to Mr. Denison, Sarah didn't miss the first traces of doubt as they spread their way across his face.

“You are intruding upon my proposal, Lord Spencer. Please leave this instant.”

Ignoring him completely, Lord Spencer looked at Sarah. “Is this what you want?”

“I . . .” She couldn't lie to him. “No,” she confessed.

“It doesn't matter what she wants,” Mr. Denison said. “This is a business arrangement between myself and Lord Andover. You have no right to question it.”

Lord Spencer turned to Lord Andover. “Why would you do this to your daughter? Don't you see what this man is like? He won't treat her well, and she will suffer for it.”

“In other words, her marriage would not be so different from most others,” Lady Andover said.

“And considering she's not much better than a whore, I—­”

Mr. Denison did not finish that sentence before Lord Spencer had taken two long strides toward him and grabbed him by the throat, pulling him away from Sarah and forcing him up against a wall. “Apologize,” he growled.

“Why should I,” Mr. Denison gasped. “It's the truth!”

Sarah stood completely immobile, her heart beating loudly in her ears while everything slowed to a near halt. This couldn't be happening, and yet it was.

“Hold your tongue, Denison,” Lord Andover barked, “or so help me God I shall have no choice but to call you out for your insolence.”

“You needn't trouble yourself on that score, my lord,” Lord Spencer said while Mr. Denison clutched at Lord Spencer's hands, frantically trying to dislodge them. “I am calling him out myself for the damage he has done to Lady Sarah's honor. We shall duel with swords at dawn.”

“No,” Sarah said, her whispered word unheard by those around her. She watched, horrified, as Lord Spencer released Mr. Denison and stepped back.

Mr. Denison gasped. Sarah's parents said nothing, no doubt equally disturbed by this turn of events. Lord Spencer turned toward Sarah. “I hope you will forgive me, but I could not allow him to speak of you like that without seeking vengeance on your behalf.” She shook her head, unable to utter a single word. “When this is over, I will make an offer for your hand—­one that I hope you will accept.”

She stepped back, distraught by what had just transpired. She'd lost her chance to tell Lord Spencer the truth before things had gotten out of hand. Now he would be risking his life for a woman who didn't even deserve his friendship. She'd unintentionally deceived him, believing at first that they would never be more than acquaintances. After all, her path had been determined, and he had been so set against marriage. It had been clear, so she'd delayed her confession in the hope that he would never have to know. Now it was too late.

Shifting her gaze, she looked to her parents for guidance, but she received no help from their defeated expressions. “I can't,” she told Lord Spencer, watching as incomprehension stole into his eyes. “Forgive me, but I cannot marry you, my lord. I . . . I simply cannot.”

His jaw tightened. “Leave us,” he said, his eyes not leaving Sarah's.

“My lord,” Lady Andover said, “I do not think that it would be wise to—­”

Lord Spencer jerked his head in Lady Andover's direction. “Considering what I've just witnessed—­your lack of concern for your daughter's well-­being—­I would caution you against questioning me right now.”

After a moment, there came the muffled sound of everyone exiting the room, leaving Sarah uncomfortably alone with Lord Spencer.

 

Chapter 14

H
eart pounding in her chest, Sarah struggled for courage, knowing that she was about to lose Lord Spencer forever. It wasn't easy, and for that reason, she hesitated as she drank him in, determined to savor this final moment of joy that came from his closeness . . . before she distanced herself from him forever. But when she finally parted her lips, determined to do what she must, he took her completely by surprise and lowered his mouth over hers.

No
.

She must not allow him to do this. Oh God, why would he kiss her now, when she'd been so close to telling him everything?

His hands slid down the curve of her back, and he stepped closer until their bodies were flush against each other, his lips carefully touching hers—­warm, soft, tempting. She gasped in response and his tongue took advantage, stroking her deeply in an intimate demand for interaction. Her hands rose between them, flattening against his chest. It took every ounce of her willpower to deny herself the pleasure he offered and push him away. It had to be done though. Her feelings for him would not allow her to deceive him a moment longer. He had to know the truth, even as his eyes took on a look of bewilderment.

“You respond so well to my advances, Sarah, and yet you continue to push me away,” he said, his forehead coming to rest against hers. “Why?”

Her breath shook as she inhaled. “My lord . . . I . . . we cannot continue down this path until you know everything there is to know about me.”

Drawing back a little, he stared at her. “Then tell me and let's be done with this madness. Christ, Sarah . . . if you only knew how much you affect me. I did not come here looking for an attachment. Indeed, I was determined to resist my parents' attempts to find me a match because I didn't think I was ready. But then I met you, and it was like a breath of fresh air blew into my life. You've changed me with your sweetness, your generosity and your determination to be positive even though your future looked so bleak. But I can offer you a better future, so why do you continue to resist me? I've already told you that your affiliation with Harlowe is of no consequence to me. And once you marry me, you'll be a viscountess, Sarah. As my wife, nobody would dare call your character into question.”

“I wish it were that simple.” Stepping past him, she removed herself from his reach before turning toward him again, needing to put some distance between them if she was to complete her task. “Unfortunately, I can never be the sort of woman you require in a bride. I'm not pure, my lord. Do you understand?”

Silence stretched between them as they stood there, staring back at each other across the distance. The corner of his mouth twitched. “You're not pure,” he said, as if he needed to repeat the statement in order for it to sink in. When he spoke again, his voice was strained as he said, “I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

Swallowing against the knot that had formed in her throat, she looked away from him. “It happened two years ago, during my first . . . and only . . . Season. My parents paraded me around London, introducing me to everyone who mattered. I attended the necessary balls, and I met Harlowe, over whom I lost both my head and my heart.” Lord Spencer muttered something incoherent in response to that, and she paused, aware that her hands were trembling. Balling them into fists, she persevered, adding, “He began sending secret love notes to me, and whenever I would come across him, he would always whisper words of endearment in my ear. Truth be told, he was both charming and attentive. He showed great interest whenever I would speak to him, and his compliments were always plentiful. In hindsight, I realize I should have been more cautious, but he made so many promises to me and—­”

“Did he mention these promises to your parents?” Lord Spencer asked in a harsh manner that made her flinch.

“No. When I suggested he do so, he said that what we had should be savored, that once we made our tendre for each other public, we'd lose the privacy that made our relationship so romantic. He said he didn't want to lose that fairy-­tale magic until it was absolutely necessary, and given my inexperience, I did not disagree.

“When the Season came to an end, my family and I were invited to attend a house party at which he was also present. We continued our flirtation with discretion, but then one evening, when the rest of the guests were enjoying a musicale, he asked me to excuse myself under the pretext of having acquired a headache and being in need of some rest. In my eagerness to encourage his favor, I did as he requested and returned to my bedchamber. I waited there for about ten minutes before he arrived, professing his undying love for me and assuring me that he would speak to my father the following day and ask for my hand in marriage. He kissed me then, and before I understood what was happening, he was telling me how lovely I was, that he'd never met a woman more beautiful and that he could not help himself from doing what he then proceeded to do. I said nothing to stop him, for he had promised me the world, and in my naiveté, I believed him.”

“Bloody bastard!”

Sarah winced. “The following morning I awoke to a great disturbance in the house. The magistrate had arrived, along with the local constable and two tough-­looking men whom I suppose they must have hired to restrain Harlowe if necessary. There was a lot of yelling, mostly by Harlowe, who professed his innocence. The magistrate said that that was for the court to decide, upon which Harlowe was practically dragged from the Gillsborough home.”

“And your popularity plummeted, I suppose?”

­“People had seen us together on numerous occasions. When it eventually became known that Harlowe was guilty of treason, I became a pariah. And then of course there was the issue regarding my innocence—­or lack thereof. Even if a gentleman would have asked for my hand, I would not have been able to accept.”

“So your parents found Mr. Denison for you—­a man who wouldn't care about any of it.” There was no mistaking the anger that marked Lord Spencer's features. No. It wasn't anger, it was rage.

How on earth was she to manage telling him the rest? A cold dread descended upon her at the thought of it, and she closed her eyes, knowing she would never succeed as long as he was dwarfing her with his presence. “There's more,” she whispered, aiming for complete disclosure. Whatever happened between them from this moment onward, it would be with the knowledge that he was aware of just how ruined she was.

“You cannot be serious,” he said, taking a step back and increasing the distance between them.

Piece by piece, her heart was breaking. Just moments ago, he'd captured her lips in what would have been a passionate kiss had she not dissuaded him. Now he wanted nothing to do with her. Oh, how swiftly words could alter one's perception. “I conceived,” she told him quickly, eager now to be done with this awful ordeal. “I had no choice but to confess everything to Mama, and although she was furious with me, she agreed to help me for the sake of my sisters. I traveled to Scotland with the intention of remaining there until after the child was born so it could be given away to a caring family, but then I miscarried and . . . well, when I returned home, everything was different. My parents hated me, particularly since my wrongdoing prevented me from accepting an offer of marriage from an eligible gentleman, and because of the potential damage I'd done to my sisters' prospects.”

“I cannot pretend I do not understand their reasoning,” Lord Spencer said, his voice sounding awfully distant and hollow. “As for me, it appears I have an uncanny ability to fall for women who aren't what they appear to be.”

“I never said I was anything else,” she told him, annoyed by the derision he was displaying. “On the contrary, I tried to dissuade you from seeking my company.”

“By striking up a friendship with me and then proceeding to avoid me? If anything, that only sparked my curiosity.”

“Then what, pray tell, should I have done, my lord? Risk my entire family's reputation by telling a virtual stranger that I am a light skirt?” He said nothing in return, which only made her feel worse, if such a thing were possible. Her chest ached and her throat had grown tight. “Forgive me, but as much as you despise me right now, I hope you will appreciate my reason for not sharing this information with you sooner. I did everything wrong, and I can assure you that I am paying the price daily—­more so now that I've met you—­but I will
not
allow my sisters to suffer because of my poor judgment. Please promise me that you will keep my confidence, I beg you, and in return I will leave your family alone.”

His censorious gaze remained heavy upon her, like a monolith threatening to squash her. It was the first time she'd shared the events that had led to her ruin in such detail, and she hated the way her voice had quivered as she'd spoken.

“It will be difficult to explain to my sisters your sudden reluctance to share their company,” he muttered.

Sarah choked back a sob, valiantly steadying her tone before saying, “I'm sure you'll find a way, now that you know how necessary it is to do so.”

He sighed as he passed a hand over his jaw. A curse followed, and then, “I cannot deny my anger right now, for I feel it in every pore of my body, but I will say this—­I admire your strength and your courage. If your regard for me is even half of what mine was for you before you made me privy to this . . . this catastrophe, then I cannot fail to recognize how difficult it must have been for you to be so brutally honest with me. I thank you for that, even though I wish you would have confided in me sooner. But, I understand your reasoning well enough and will do what I can to keep it a secret. You have my word on that, as a gentleman.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice sounding pitifully weak.

“However, I will ask a favor of you in return,” he said as he stood there studying her with eyes of flint. “Especially since it appears that I am to fight a duel tomorrow on your behalf.”

“Surely you can renege.”

His jaw tightened, and she imagined he must be grinding his teeth. “A gentleman does not renege after issuing a challenge. It is a matter of honor, Lady Sarah.”

She nodded bleakly, knowing that he was absolutely correct. “I'm sorry.”

“As pointless as your apology is, I thank you for it.” He paused for a moment before saying, “Now, will you grant me a favor in return for keeping your secret?”

Every word he spoke was like a punch to her stomach. “Of course,” she said, her head still held high by some unknown force.

“In that case, I wish for you to tell me the absolute truth about your feelings for me.”

He couldn't be serious. And yet there was no denying that he was—­frighteningly so. Sarah shifted her gaze to the door, momentarily caught between choosing the cowardly path to flee, and doing what he asked of her. The absolute truth, he'd said. She closed her eyes and focused on trying to control her breathing. Each nerve felt raw, and yet he demanded more. Very well then, she would lay her heart completely bare so that he might crush it at his will. “I have never regretted the choice I made to offer another man my innocence as much as I've done this past week, for I will now live out the rest of my life alone, longing for that which could have been mine had I not tossed my future aside in a moment of folly.”

“You were young and impressionable though.” There was a question there, as if he was wondering how she'd respond to such a statement.

“That is no excuse.”

He nodded, dashing whatever might have remained of her dreams.

“No, it isn't. You should have known better,” he told her gruffly. “But Harlowe was a cad and . . . I swear . . .” A strangled sound escaped him as he paced back and forth before turning on her abruptly. “How could you do this?”

“I thought myself in love,” she said calmly, though her insides were in a tumultuous uproar.

“Love,” he said at length, his posture rigid as he stared her down. A soft pitter patter of raindrops fell against the window, and Lord Spencer straightened himself, saying curtly, “I suppose that explains everything. If you'll excuse me.” And then he turned and walked away, while Sarah stared after him in desperation.

Oh God, what have I done?