No Decent Gentleman (15 page)

"You're not wearing black," Edgar said, his hazel gaze returning to hers.

His remark surprised her. "What excellent eyesight you have," she teased him.

"But you are in mourning," he reminded her.

Sabrina shrugged. "The marquess has forbidden Courtney and me to wear black during the season."

"By what right does he—?"

"The marquess holds the receivership rights to the Savage assets," she interrupted. "Please, sit down and enjoy a pleasant visit with me."

Sabrina sat down on the couch again. Instead of sitting in the adjacent chair as propriety demanded, Edgar sat beside her, which earned him a warning growl from Winston.

"That dog is a menace," Edgar said.

"Winston is only being protective of me," Sabrina replied. "Why, he's as gentle as a lamb. A growling dog never bites, you know."

"No, sweetheart, a barking dog never bites," Edgar corrected her. He glanced around the drawing room at the richly appointed chamber and then asked, "Where is everyone?"

"Uncle Charles moved in with Adam for propriety's sake," Sabrina told him. "Lady Belladonna has taken Aunt Tess and Courtney to visit friends."

"I see," he said. "What kept you at home today?"

Sabrina felt reluctant to tell him that Adam and his friends were planning to visit. Instead, she pointed to the table and said, "I was trying my hand at needlework and writing."

"Writing?" Edgar echoed, a surprised smile appearing on his face. "What are you writing?"

"Adam—I mean, the marquess—has promised to help me clear my father's reputation," Sabrina answered. "He suggested that I write down everything I can remember about the day my father died and leave no detail out."

Edgar lost his smile. "Am I mentioned in your writing?"

Sabrina shook her head. "I haven't reached that part yet."

"Sweetheart, your father committed suicide," Edgar said in a gentle voice, taking her hand in his. "No amount of writing will change that fact."

"My father did
not
commit suicide." Sabrina yanked her hand out of his and rose from the couch. She stood in front of the hearth and stared for several long moments at the hypnotic flames.

"I am sorry for upsetting you," Edgar said. "That was never my intention."

Sabrina turned around and looked at him. Suddenly, Edgar Briggs didn't seem so attractive anymore. No longer was he the older boy whom she had idolized as a child. He had become ... She didn't know what he had become. She only knew that, when compared with the marquess, Edgar lacked some indefinable quality.

"Sabrina?"

"I accept your apology," she answered, managing a smile for him.

Edgar stood then and lifted her hand to his lips, saying, "Thank you, sweetheart."

His lips on her hand irritated her. The moment for a gallant gesture had occurred the night of her father's funeral.

"I forgive you your unfounded belief," Sabrina said, disengaging her hand from his grasp. "I shan't forget it, though."

"Please, let me try to make it up to you," Edgar said, his smile ingratiating.

Sabrina arched a copper brow at him. "How?"

"I want to take you to Hyde Park where all of the Quality rides," Edgar told her. "Then we'll attend the opera, the ballet, and—"

"That isn't possible," Sabrina said, once again wishing that she'd refused his offer of marriage instead of relying on her father. If she had, she wouldn't be in such an uncomfortable position now.

A confused expression appeared on his face. "But why?" he asked.

"The reason Courtney and I are making our coming-outs is to meet suitable matrimonial prospects," Sabrina told him.

"I love you, Sabrina," Edgar said passionately, reaching for her hand again. "I have always loved you. Say that you'll marry me."

"I cannot marry you," Sabrina said, disengaging her hand again. "Before his death, my father refused your suit. Since then, I have learned his reason; I am already betrothed to the marquess."

"What?" Edgar exclaimed, clutching her forearm.

Winston's growling drew their attention. The wolfhound was on his feet, his fangs bared and his hackles raised in preparation to attack.

"Winston, sit," Sabrina ordered.

The wolfhound remained statue-still and continued growling.

"Slowly release my arm and step back a couple of paces," Sabrina ordered Edgar. When he'd done so, she commanded, "Winston, sit."

This time the wolfhound obeyed, but he remained at alert attention, his dark gaze fixed on the baron.

A feeling of guilt swept through Sabrina. She'd never harbored a grudge against anyone in her life, and keeping one against her oldest friend was a terrible thing. She supposed that his believing her father had committed suicide was logical, but his lack of faith in her father disappointed her.

"My father and the duke had been friends since their days at Eton," Sabrina explained, deciding that her oldest friend deserved to know the truth. "When I was an infant, my father betrothed me to the marquess. To his credit, Adam has offered me a way out of the marriage."

"What is that?" Edgar asked coldly.

"If I meet a suitable gentleman during the season, I will be free to marry him," Sabrina said.

Edgar brightened visibly.

"However, Adam does not consider you a suitable prospect," Sabrina added, effectively wiping the smile off his face. "I'm sorry, but I agree with him on that point."

"I see that a countess is too good for a mere baron," Edgar said curtly, his face mottling with anger.

"Your thinking is wrong," Sabrina replied, his insinuation angering her as well. "I could never marry a man who made the rounds of London and spread the word that Courtney and I are adopted bastards."

"I never did such a thing," Edgar insisted. "Who told you that lie, the marquess?"

Sabrina refused to reply.

"Did you know that your precious marquess is practically wed to another woman?" Edgar continued. "Alexis Carstairs, the Countess of Rothbury, has been his mistress for more than a year. Even as we speak, wagers are being made in White's Betting Book as to when they'll announce their wedding plans."

Sabrina felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. She paled, his hurtful words and the virulence of his dislike for the marquess making her weak. One of her hands flew to her chest as if to protect herself. She stepped back several paces and then turned to sit on the couch.

"How dare you turn away from me," Edgar said, his voice raised. He reached out to seize her wrist, but the wolfhound leaped to her defense.

Snarling, Winston lunged at the baron. He caught one of his trouser legs and pulled.

When the baron raised his fist to strike the dog, Sabrina sprang into action. She deflected the blow with her arm and tried to leap between them.

"Winston, sit," the marquess ordered from the doorway.

Releasing the baron's trousers from his powerful grip, the wolfhound sat but continued growling low in his throat. Dropping to her knees, Sabrina wrapped her arms around the dog's neck as much to protect him as to hold him back.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Edgar apologized, but refrained from helping her off the carpet. "I didn't mean to strike you, only to protect myself."

Sabrina nodded in understanding but remained silent. She didn't trust herself to speak lest she tell her oldest friend in no uncertain terms what she thought of him at that moment.

"What is going on here?" Adam demanded, marching across the drawing room toward them.

"That dog attacked me and should be put down," Edgar said.

"Put down for protecting me?" Sabrina cried. "I think not"

"Winston was protecting you?" Adam echoed. He turned a deadly gaze on the baron and stepped closer, asking, "What were you doing to her?"

"Sabrina and I were arguing when she paled as if faint," Edgar explained. "When I reached out to help her, this monster attacked me."

Sabrina snapped her gaze to the baron. He was lying, albeit to protect himself from the marquess's wrath, but that lie had slipped from his lips as if they'd been greased.

A man who lies once will lie many times
, Sabrina thought. How many of his past lies had she believed without question? How could she trust a friend who lied with such ease?

Adam looked from the baron to Sabrina. Unwilling to cause anymore trouble, she dropped her gaze to the dog.

"Well, Lord Briggs, I'm certain Sabrina appreciates an old friend stopping by for a visit," Adam said in a not so subtle hint for the man to leave. "Will we be seeing you on Saturday?"

Instead of replying, Edgar turned to Sabrina and said, "I apologize for the misunderstanding and will, of course, be attending your coming-out. If you need me, I am staying at my sister's in Bedford Square." At that, he walked across the drawing room and disappeared out the door.

"Shame on you," Adam scolded the dog, reaching out to pat his head. "What kind of hound mistakes a weasel for a wolf?"

Winston whined as if he understood.

Sabrina felt confused. She could have sworn that the marquess disliked Edgar.

"Why did you invite him to my coming-out?" she asked.

"I thought you and Courtney would be glad that an old friend from Abingdon was there," Adam told her. He glanced toward the empty doorway and added, "I like Edgar Briggs as much as I trust him, which is not at all."

"Edgar has been behaving badly since the day of my father's death," Sabrina said. "Your appearance in Abingdon only made matters worse. I don't much like him anymore either."

"Shall I univite him?" Adam interrupted.

Sabrina shook her head.

"You make a fetching picture in your new gown," Adam said, reaching out to help her off the floor. "Isn't this better than draping yourself in dreary black?"

Baxter walked into the drawing room before she could reply. Keeping a wary gaze fixed on the wolfhound, the majordomo announced, "The Duke and Duchess of Kinross have arrived."

"Show them, in," Adam said.

When the majordomo left, Sabrina took a moment to smooth her gown. She peeked at the marquess, who was watching her.

"Don't trouble yourself about your appearance," Adam said. "Improving upon perfection is an impossible task."

Sabrina blushed at his outrageous compliment. She dropped her gaze to Winston and asked, "Are they afraid of dogs?"

"We love dogs and various other creatures," a man's voice said, drawing her attention.

James Armstrong, the Duke of Kinross, appeared as tall and well built as the marquess. His dark hair matched Adam's, but his eyes were blacker than a moonless midnight.

The Duchess of Kinross was petite and sported thick ebony hair, but her blue eyes rivaled the marquess's for brilliance. Exquisitely lovely, she'd been blessed with a warm, infectious smile.

"James and Lily, may I present Sabrina Savage, the Countess of Abingdon," Adam made the introductions. "Sabrina, these are my friends the Duke and Duchess of Kinross."

"Your Graces, I am honored to make your acquaintance," Sabrina said, and then curtsied.

"Call me Lily," the duchess said. "I only married the title."

"Call me Jamie," the duke said. "Please, no curtseying to me. It makes me feel older than my twenty-five years. Besides"—he glanced at his wife and winked—"I didn't earn the title, merely inherited it."

"I wouldn't wish to make you feel old," Sabrina said with a smile, and relaxed.

"Is this the wolfhound you found in Oxford?" Lily asked, her gaze on the dog.

"Yes, this is Winston." Sabrina blushed to realize the marquess had spoken of her to his friends.

Lily promptly removed her gloves and offered the wolfhound her hand. Winston sniffed her palm and then licked it.

"You adorable puppy," Lily said, patting him.

"My wife loves all sorts of creatures," Jamie told Sabrina.

Lily smiled at her husband as if his remark held a secret meaning for her. "A ribbon would dress Winston up prettily, don't you think?" she asked.

Sabrina rounded on Adam and gave him a look that said
I told you so
.

"Let's sit down in front of the hearth," Adam suggested.

Sabrina and Lily sat on the couch. Adam and James occupied the chairs opposite them. Sabrina had the sudden feeling that the duke and duchess knew the secret of her betrothal. Or perhaps sitting there together made her feel that Adam and she were the two halves of one couple.

"When we left the house, Sarah was playing with the doll you gave her," Lily said to Adam. "Chewing on it, as I recall."

"Sabrina deserves the credit for choosing the cloth doll," Adam replied.

"On behalf of my daughter, I thank you," Lily said, turning to her.

"How old is she?" Sabrina asked.

The topic of her daughter brought a smile to the duchess's lips. "Sarah is just a year old."

"Walk with me to the study," Adam said to Jamie. "I promised to retrieve some papers for my uncle."

Jamie immediately rose from his chair, saying, "If you ladies will excuse us, we'll return shortly."

Without another word, the two friends left them alone in the drawing room. Sabrina and Lily looked at each other uncomfortably before their gazes skittered away.

Sabrina worried about what topic would be appropriate to discuss with the beautiful American duchess. And then it struck her. The weather was always suitable. No danger there.

"We've been enjoying good weather, don't you think?" Sabrina said stiffly.

"Yes, the weather has held marvelously well," Lily replied, glancing sidelong at her. Then she drawled, "If a person likes yellow fog, that is."

Sabrina smiled. "Actually, I prefer the country to city life."

"No fog?"

"None whatsoever."

The two women smiled at each other.

"You do realize the gentlemen left us alone on purpose," Lily said. "My husband wants us to become friends."

"We needn't be friends if you'd rather not," Sabrina said.

"London society hasn't exactly welcomed me with open arms," Lily admitted. "Although no one has dared to be rude, I'm certain they consider me an American upstart. I thought you might disapprove of me too."