No Decent Gentleman (11 page)

"Come in, Courtney," she called.

The door opened slowly. Surprising her, Winston ran into her bedchamber, his tail wagging back and forth like a conductor's baton.

"How did you—" Sabrina glanced toward the doorway, where the marquess stood. A smile lit his expression.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I was hoping to catch you in a state of undress," he said wickedly. "I see I've arrived too late."

"I must protest your presence," Sabrina said, feeling the heated blush rising upon her cheeks. Without bothering to brush her hair, Sabrina crossed the chamber to the door and stepped into the corridor. As they started down the corridor, she said, "Our agreement does not give you the liberty to—"

Sabrina stopped talking and rounded on him when she felt his fingers on her back. "What are you doing?" she cried.

"You missed a button," Adam told her, his expression of innocence not fooling her for a moment.

"No decent gentleman would touch a woman without her permission," Sabrina said. "Kindly refrain from doing so."

"Surely you haven't mistaken me for a decent gentleman," Adam countered, reaching out to capture a wisp of her wanton red hair and secure it behind her ear. "Besides, there's no harm in an engaged couple's touching each other."

Sabrina quickly stepped back a pace, making him smile. Not only was the marquess no decent gentleman, she decided, he seemed to revel in defying the conventions of proper behavior.

"You assume too much," Sabrina warned, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. "I'm positive that London is filled with potential husbands, most of whom are decent gentlemen."

"Decency can be excruciatingly boring," Adam replied, giving her a wicked grin.

"I'll be the judge of that," Sabrina announced, and continued walking down the corridor to the stairway.

"I love it when you blush, Princess," Adam said in a husky voice, walking beside her. "The rosy color accentuates your green eyes."

"Don't say things like that," Sabrina said, and flicked a sidelong glance at him.

"Why?"

"You make me feel uncomfortable."

Sabrina heard him chuckle but refused to look at him again. She knew that would only encourage his bad behavior.

"A beast," Sabrina heard Aunt Tess cry when Winston bounded into the drawing room ahead of them. She and Adam walked into the room just in time to stop Winston before he reached the platter of cucumber sandwiches and lemon cookies.

"Sit, Winston," Adam ordered. Hearing the voice of authority, the dog halted instantly and sat down beside the platter of food.

"Good boy," Adam praised the dog, patting his head.

"That's a dog?" Belladonna drawled.

"He looks more like a pony," Aunt Tess said.

"That is pure Irish wolfhound," Uncle Charles told them. "I do believe he's almost as big as Tiny, Prince Adolphus's dog at Eton."

"Winston, is it?" Courtney asked. "Don't you think a ribbon would make him look prettier?"

Sabrina glanced at Adam and sent him an I-told-you-so look.

"No ribbons," he said.

"Oh, my Lord, look at that disgusting drool," Belladonna said.

Two rivers of saliva hung from the corners of Winston's muzzle as he stared at the tempting platter.

Sabrina took a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe the drool and then gave him a cucumber sandwich. Winston swallowed it without chewing.

"A growing pup has a healthy appetite," Adam said with a smile. Then he ordered, "Winston, lie down." The dog lay on the rug and rested his head on top of his forelegs.

"Where did you get him?" Uncle Charles asked.

"The Countess of Abingdon possesses a big heart, and apparently wishes to adopt any stray that crosses her path," Adam replied.

"There are worse things in life," Sabrina said. Sitting on the edge of the couch, she leaned close to the dog and patted his head. "Winston is such a pretty boy."

The dog lifted his head and offered her his paw.

"Boys are handsome, not pretty," Adam corrected her.

"A courier arrived from London," Uncle Charles said.

That got Sabrina's attention. "And?"

"Prince Adolphus received permission from Prinny—"

"The Prince Regent?" Courtney exclaimed.

Uncle Charles smiled and nodded. He looked at Adam, saying, "Prinny will give you receivership of the Savage assets."

"For a price, of course."

Uncle Charles shrugged. "You know that Prinny has holes in his pockets."

"I don't understand," Sabrina said, looking from the duke to the marquess.

"For a fee, the Prince Regent will give me the authority to oversee your assets until a final determination is made about your father's death," Adam explained.

"I will reimburse you when this matter is settled," Sabrina promised.

"Don't bother yourself about the money," Adam told her. "It's all in the family."

"We are not family yet," she reminded him.

"Sabrina!" a voice called from the doorway before the marquess could reply.

Everyone turned to see Lord Briggs crossing the drawing room toward them. Winston lifted his head, sat up, and growled at the baron. Edgar stopped short and stared in surprise at the dog.

"What is that?" Edgar asked.

"My dog," Sabrina answered.

"Winston, lie down," Adam ordered.

Instantly, the dog lay down again and rested his head on his forelegs. However, his small ears remained pricked as if alert to a dangerous presence in the chamber.

"A lady requires a lapdog, not a monster," Edgar said to Adam.

Adam raised his dark brows at the baron. "I didn't give her the dog."

"We found him in Oxford today," Sabrina said.

"Will you never learn?" Edgar said in a stern voice, shaking his head.

Winston growled but remained where he lay.

"I don't think Winston likes your tone," Adam said with a smile lurking in his voice.

Lord Briggs ignored the marquess. "Sabrina, I must speak privately with you."

"That can wait until tomorrow," Sabrina said, refusing to listen to another of his lectures. "Why don't you join us for tea?"

"I am leaving for my sister's in the morning," Edgar said. "I told you I was spending the holiday with her this year."

Sabrina felt unaccountably relieved that he'd be going away. Then, guilt for feeling that way replaced the relief.

"Oh, I'd forgotten." Sabrina rose from her perch on the couch, saying, "Let's walk downstairs."

Sabrina crossed the chamber, but before leaving, glanced over her shoulder and told the others, "I'll return shortly."

Sabrina and Edgar walked in silence down the corridor to the main staircase. Descending the stairs, Sabrina nearly burst out laughing when she spied Forbes reaching for the baron's cloak in preparation for his departure.

Poor Edgar
, she thought. Apparently, no one at Abingdon Manor wanted him there.

When the majordomo handed him the cloak, Edgar looked pointedly at the man until he left the foyer. Then he turned to stare unhappily at her.

"I feel like an unwanted outsider," Edgar said.

"Forgive me," Sabrina apologized, reaching out to touch his arm. "I never intended to make you feel that way. My father's sudden death has sent my world spinning out of control, and I'm still trying to find my balance."

His expression softened. He reached into his pocket and produced a small box. "I have a gift for you."

"You shouldn't have bought me a present," Sabrina said, shaking her head. How could she accept a gift from a man when she was betrothed to another?

Edgar opened the box. Lying on a bed of black velvet was a diamond heart-shaped pendant attached to a gold chain. "This necklace belonged to my mother," he told her.

"I cannot accept such an expensive gift, especially one with sentimental value," Sabrina said.

"Please, Sabrina."

She shook her head. "That necklace is for your future wife, whoever that may be."

"I was hoping that would be you," Edgar said, his love for her apparent in his gaze. "Besides, the necklace is for whomever I wish to wear it." He placed the box in her hand, adding, "Keep it as a token of our long friendship."

Sabrina felt like the lowest creature on earth. "I'll keep it safe for your future betrothed," she agreed reluctantly. "Whenever you want it back, I will be happy to return it to you."

Edgar smiled. "Thank you."

"I have nothing for you," she said.

"I've always longed to kiss you," Edgar said, slowly inching his face toward hers.

Just as their lips would have met, Sabrina heard a low, menacing growl. She leaped back a pace and turned to see Adam and Winston standing at the base of the staircase. Anger swelled within her like a sudden gust of wind. How could he have intruded on such a private moment? Where did he get the gall?

"That dog is dangerous and should be destroyed," Edgar said in an annoyed tone of voice. "If I ever come across him alone, I'll do just that."

Sabrina didn't know whom she wished to throttle first. Adam should never have intruded on this moment, but Edgar shouldn't have threatened the life of her dog.

"If you do that, I'll never speak to you again," Sabrina returned his threat, rounding on him. "Get off my property." She showed him her back and took one step away.

"You were sweet and biddable until
he
arrived," Edgar said, his voice filled with bitterness.

"Sweet and biddable?" Sabrina echoed, turning around slowly. "Keep your damned necklace." At that, she tossed the box at him.

Briggs caught the box before it hit him. Giving her an angry look, he stalked out the door.

"You, my lord, are an aristocratic arse," Sabrina announced, rounding on Adam. "Stay out of my private affairs... . Come, Winston." With the dog in tow, she brushed past him and started up the stairs.

"I can't," Adam said in a quiet voice.

Sabrina stopped and turned around, asking, "What did you say?"

"As your betrothed, your private affairs are my business," Adam told her.

"My private affairs are
my
business," Sabrina insisted. "Your constant intrusion into my life is annoying me. I certainly will never marry a man who is so ... so ...
intrusive
."

Adam smiled unrepentently. "All men are instrusive when the matter at hand concerns their women."

"I am not your woman," she snapped.

"You will be if I choose to spread the word of our betrothal in London," he countered.

"Keep out of my way," Sabrina threatened, "or you'll be sorry."

"What will you do?" Adam asked, wearing an infuriating smile. "Challenge me to a duel?"

"Nothing so obvious as that," Sabrina replied, gazing down at him like a haughty young queen. "I'll spike your clotted cream."

His smile grew into a grin. "With hemlock or henbane?"

She cocked a brow at him. "That death would be much too quick. Not enough suffering, you know. A purgative, perhaps."

Sabrina started up the stairs again. She refused to spare him a glance when she heard his shout of laughter.

Gaining her chamber, Sabrina sat in the chair in front of the hearth to pat the dog and fume. Why couldn't Edgar accept the fact that they would never marry? Her father had refused his offer of marriage. Why would he believe she'd accept him now? And that meddling marquess! Adam St. Aubyn had better keep his distance from her and cease intruding on her private business. A fifteen-year-old betrothal contract did not give him exclusive ownership of her.

Soon the movement of her hands on the dog soothed her as much as the animal himself, and she felt able to get some sleep. With Winston curled into a gigantic ball on her bed, Sabrina slept more peacefully than she had since her father's death. The sound of the door opening awakened her early the next morning. Sabrina opened her eyes to see Winston lifting his head, and then she heard a low whistling. The dog bounded off the bed, and a moment later the door clicked shut again.

Was the marquess now invading her bedchamber? Sabrina wondered drowsily. His behavior was entirely too familiar and totally inappropriate, even for a fiance. She would give him the lecture of his life when she went down to breakfast.

Two hours later, Sabrina stood outside the dining room. She squared her shoulders, preparing to do battle with the marquess, and marched into the room. Uncle Charles, sitting alone at the head of the long table, was just passing Winston a piece of Oxford sausage.

"Good morning," Sabrina called, relieved that she need not confront the marquess just yet.

"A good morning to you, child," the duke greeted her.

"I see that you've made a new friend," she said, taking the seat on his right side.

Uncle Charles chuckled. He lifted another piece of sausage off his plate and passed it to Winston. "Adam is waiting to speak privately with you in the study."

Sabrina gave him the sweetest smile she could muster and said, "Let him wait."

"He'll be leaving shortly and did wish to—"

"You're leaving?" Sabrina interrupted in surprise. "I thought you were staying through the holiday."

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured her, reaching out to pat her hand, "but business demands that my nephew return to London. By the way, I'm glad you're sorry to see him go."

"I never said that."

"You didn't need to." The duke winked at her and said, "I can see the regret in your pretty green eyes."

"What you see is the gleam of anger, not the glistening tears of regret," Sabrina corrected him, rising from her chair. At that, she marched the length of the dining table to the door, but paused when the duke called to her.

"Child, I do believe Winston cares more for you than sausage," he said.

Sabrina shifted her gaze from the duke to the dog, who stood right behind her. "How comforting to be held in such high esteem," she replied. "Come, Winston."

Followed by her dog, Sabrina walked the length of the long corridor to her father's study. The door was closed, just as it had been on that tragic day. She reached out to knock but then thought better of it; Abingdon Manor was her home, not his. Instead of knocking, Sabrina turned the knob and walked inside.