Sally MacKenzie Bundle (159 page)

“Lady Gladys, it’s quite clear that I am not suited for the position of duchess.”

“Why not? You’re young and female, aren’t you? James, do you think Sarah is unsuited to be your duchess?”

“Not at all, Aunt.”

Sarah risked a glance at James. His lips turned up into what she could only describe as a smirk.

“I can’t say that I’ve thoroughly investigated all of her credentials of course, but I believe she will suit very well indeed.”

“I thought you
had
investigated all her credentials, James,” Lady Amanda said. “That’s why we’re in this situation.”

Sarah watched James’s smile vanish and his ears turn red.

“Perhaps we should change the subject,” he said. “Lizzie, how go the preparations for London?”

Lizzie’s mouth was hanging open so wide that her chin just about touched the table. “Did you say you were going to
marry
Sarah, James?”

“I guess we forgot to mention that, didn’t we? Nothing has been decided conclusively, but Sarah has agreed to consider my suit.”

Lizzie’s eyes grew huge. Sarah could tell she was full of questions—the first one, Sarah supposed, was where she and James had met. They had better come up with a plausible story if they didn’t want the true tale known.

“We met when I was in America,” James was saying.

Sarah turned to look at him. She was very much afraid that she was goggle-eyed. She bit her tongue before she could ask him when he had been in her country. He must have been there once; his family would certainly know if he had not.

“I thought our love was hopeless with an ocean separating us, so I said nothing. I couldn’t even bring myself to mention it to Robbie.”

Sarah restrained herself from kicking him under the table. He should consider a career writing novels if he could sell that story to anyone. Lizzie looked doubtful; Robbie rolled his eyes.

“Well, James,” Lizzie said, “if you’re going to marry Sarah, you should give some thought to her clothes. She needs a whole new wardrobe—she doesn’t even have a nightdress!”

Sarah knew she would blush if she looked at James, so she studied her plate instead. “Really, your grace, my clothes—or lack of them—is not your concern.”

“I’m certainly concerned with your
lack
of clothes, sweetheart. But if you deny me the pleasure of clothing you, certainly you will agree that it
is
Robbie’s responsibility as head of your family. We’ll just have the bills sent to him, right, Robbie?”

“Yes, of course. Be happy to stand the nonsense.”

Sarah looked at Robbie. “I can’t impose on you.”

“Of course you can. I’m head of your family now, ain’t I?”

“But it’s such a waste of money.”

“It is nothing of the sort.” Lady Gladys leaned toward her. “You deserve some fun, Sarah. From what you told me, David was quite remiss in your upbringing. It is just like him to get lost in his causes and never pay attention to the needs of the people around him. And it is certainly Robbie’s responsibility to fund a Season for you. His estate can bear the expense, isn’t that right, Robbie?”

“Said I’d pay the bills. Not to worry, cousin.”

“That’s settled then.” Lady Gladys smiled and sat back. “We’ll have Mrs. Croft up tomorrow. She can make a few necessities now, and we’ll get the rest in London.”

“There’s still one other issue, Gladys,” Lady Amanda said. “Sarah doesn’t dance. She’ll have to learn all the steps before we go to town.”

“Very true. Well then, I suggest you gentlemen dispense with your port this evening and join us in the music room immediately. The sooner we get started, the better. We want Sarah to be ready for Almack’s.”

“What is Almack’s?” Sarah asked as she left the room on James’s arm.

“What is Almack’s?” Lizzie stopped so suddenly, Sarah almost ran into her. “Almack’s is…” The younger girl was clearly speechless at Sarah’s ignorance.

Robbie, Lizzie’s escort, laughed. “Almack’s is the center of the universe for the
ton’s
marriage-minded mamas and their daughters, Sarah. Every Wednesday night during the Season, the girls who can get their hot little hands on a voucher hunt for husbands among the eligible males of the
ton
. To the rest of us mortals, it’s a stuffy, boring club.”

“It sounds dreadful.”

“It
is
dreadful.”

“No, truly, Sarah,” Lizzie said. “Almack’s is wonderful.”

“You have never been there,” Robbie said. “Once you’ve eaten the stale cakes, drunk the tasteless punch, and endured the insipid conversation, you’ll think differently.”

Lizzie frowned up at Robbie. “No, I’m sure you must be wrong.”

Robbie rolled his eyes. “Ah, youth.”

“You’re not exactly a graybeard.”

“I don’t think I want to go to Almack’s,” Sarah said quietly to James as Robbie and Lizzie moved ahead.

“No, but we’ll have to make an appearance for Lizzie’s sake.”

Sarah frowned. “Perhaps I won’t be able to get these vouchers Robbie says are needed.”

“No danger of that with Aunt Gladys as your sponsor. The patronesses would not dare snub the sister and aunt of the Duke of Alvord.”

“I’m sure they will snub a penniless American upstart.”

“No, they won’t. Trust me, sweetheart. I’m an expert in the ways of the
ton.”

“So you think they will accept me?”

James grimaced. “Like they accept everyone—with false smiles and backbiting and the hope that you’ll do something really dreadful so they can talk about you until the next scandal presents itself.”

Sarah felt the color drain from her face. “That sounds horrible!”

“It
is
horrible. It’s why I avoid
ton
parties like the French artillery.” James grinned and ran his finger down Sarah’s nose. She swatted his hand away. “But now, with you at my side, I find I can bear the agony.”

“You
can bear it! All those awful people will be staring at
me,
the bold American who presumes to insinuate herself into the Duke of Alvord’s family.”

They entered the music room. It had pale green walls, a beautiful piano—and a very large painting of three buxom women dancing in a meadow. Except for a few wisps of fabric, the women were nude. A muscular man, with a lyre and considerably more clothing, watched the cavorting trio from the shade of a tree.

“Apollo and the Three Graces,”
James said. “My father’s acquisition. I never knew the painter’s name, but then, I doubt my father purchased it for its artistic merit.”

“James, stop admiring the artwork and help Robbie and Charles roll back the rug.” Lady Gladys stood by the piano, directing the men’s efforts. “And Sarah, come here. Lizzie will show you a few steps. We’ll start with a country dance. Will you play for us, Amanda?”

“Well, I certainly am not going to dance. If you plan to attempt the quadrille, Gladys, you will have to take a place and you will still be one couple short.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage.”

Lizzie walked through the steps as the men pushed the carpet aside. Sarah watched Lizzie’s feet intently, trying to memorize the patterns. Finally, she shook her head.

“I’m afraid this is hopeless, Lizzie. I’ll never remember it all.”

“Of course you will!” Lizzie smiled encouragingly. “It will be easier with music and a partner.”

“And I suppose I should be that partner,” Robbie said, bowing. “If any blood is shed, at least it will be Hamilton blood.”

“Not exactly a vote of confidence, Robbie.” Major Draysmith bowed to Lizzie, and then looked over at James. “Did you want to join the set?”

“I believe I’ll sit this one out,” James said, lounging against the piano, “unless you’d like to dance, Aunt?”

“Not likely. You can help me supervise.”

“Splendid. I am excellent at supervising.”

“I don’t doubt—just remember that there are
four
dancers on the floor, James.”

“Of course.”

Sarah glanced over and saw James wink at her. Then she turned her attention to her feet. She made it through the first pattern without injuring anyone. She smiled, relaxing, and glanced at James again.

“Yipes!” Robbie jumped back, pulling his foot out from under Sarah’s. “No, Sarah, step to your
other
left.”

Sarah flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t do any damage, did I?”

“Nothing permanent. However, I think I’ve done my duty. ‘Discretion is the better part of valor,’ as the Bard says. I shall pass you off to the gallant Major Draysmith. He was in the Light Dragoons—he’s good at getting out of tight places.”

Charles took Sarah’s hand. “I really don’t equate dancing with you to a battle skirmish, Miss Hamilton.”

“Perhaps you should,” Robbie said as the music started again. “You may sustain more wounds tonight than you did in all your years on the Peninsula.”

“Robbie!” Charles turned his head to frown at his friend. “Oww!”

“Oh, I am sorry.” Sarah tried to change directions before she put all her weight on Charles’s foot, but lost her balance and hopped onto his toe instead. He smiled bravely while he helped her steady herself.

“That will teach you to let your guard down, Charles.” Robbie laughed. “Anything broken?”

“Of course not.”

“Perhaps we should try the waltz,” Lady Gladys suggested.

“A splendid idea.” James grinned, stepping away from his post by the piano. “I will partner Sarah this time.”

“Think if you keep your hands on her, you’ll be able to prevent her from mayhem?” Robbie asked.

Sarah flushed slightly. The idea of waltzing with James was distinctly unsettling.

“I hope you don’t expect
me
to play that scandalous music.” Lady Amanda got up from the piano.

“I thought your generation wasn’t mealymouthed, Lady Amanda,” James said.

“We’re not, but neither do we engage in lewd, public behavior.”

“I don’t know about that.” Robbie grinned. “Seems to me I’ve seen Oliver Featherstone waltzing.”

“That dirty dish!” Lady Amanda sniffed. “He once rode bare-arsed down Bond Street on a bet.”

Robbie shuddered. “Now
that’s
a sight I’m thankful I missed. How about you, Lady Gladys? Will you play for us?”

“I don’t think so. I was the bane of every music teacher my father hired.”

“I believe I can manage to plunk out a respectable waltz.” Major Draysmith moved to sit at the piano. Sarah was relieved to see that he wasn’t limping. Lady Amanda helped him sort through the music.

“Would you care to waltz then, Lady Gladys?” Robbie asked.

“I
said
I was supervising.”

“True.” Robbie turned and grinned at Lady Amanda. “How about you, Lady Amanda? Care to try the wicked waltz?”

“I certainly do not! You will have to dance with Lizzie, sir.”

“Little Lizzie?” Robbie laughed. “Well, come on then, brat; we shall have to struggle through. Are my toes safe? Have you ever waltzed before?”

“Only with my dancing master.”

Sarah watched Lizzie step close to Robbie. There was an expectant, dreamy expression on her face, quite at odds with Robbie’s laughing attitude. It was clear Robbie looked on Lizzie as a younger sister; Sarah doubted that Lizzie had sisterly feelings for Robbie.

“Have you really never been to a ball?” James asked as they waited for Charles to straighten his music.

“Well, I did go to a Christmas dance once at the school where I taught, but I didn’t dance.”

Sarah remembered it clearly. The Abingtons had bowed to pressure from one of their few wealthy families and had consented to hold the event, much against their better judgment. The sisters would squeeze a penny until it cried, so they were not about to hire extra staff. Sarah had done all the work, cleaning and cooking and listening to the sisters complain about the cost of such a frivolous undertaking. There’d been neither time to sew a ball gown nor any money for fabric, so she’d just worn her best dress, the one she’d worn to every commencement, formal school assembly, and Sunday service since she’d turned sixteen.

“No one asked you to dance?” James sounded shocked. “The men in Philadelphia must all be blind.”

Sarah smiled slightly and shook her head. One brave fellow had asked, but surprise had kept her silent too long. Miss Clarissa Abington had sent the young man off with a flea in his ear for his boldness.

“Well, I am not blind,” James whispered as Charles played the opening chords of the waltz. “And I very much want to waltz with you, Miss Hamilton.”

“Oh,” Sarah breathed as James’s hand touched her waist. She placed her hand carefully on his shoulder and smiled hesitantly up at him. She saw the faint golden stubble on the strong curve of his jaw; the slight cleft in his chin; and the firm line of his lips, lips that had felt so inviting on hers.

She had been this close to him in that bed at the Green Man. Closer even.

She dropped her eyes and stared at his shoulder.

“No, sweetheart, don’t stiffen up.” James spoke softly so that only she could hear as he started them moving around the room. “Think of my poor toes!”

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up in her chest. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can. Just relax. Close your eyes and feel the music.”

Sarah obediently closed her eyes, but it wasn’t the music she was feeling: it was the warmth of his body only inches from hers and the strength of his shoulder under her hand. She was surrounded by him, by his heat and his spicy, male scent, a mix of soap and wine and leather. When she wavered, he pulled her closer and she felt the momentary brush of his leg against her skirts, his chest against her breasts.

His broad, muscled chest with its golden hair, trailing in a thin line down to his navel.

Sarah gasped and opened her eyes. Such wanton thoughts!

James bent his head, his hands urging her even closer to his firm body. His lips were on level with her eyes. If she turned her head, if she leaned ever so slightly toward him, she would feel them on her temple.

She felt his breath against her cheek as he counted.

“One, two, three. One, two, three.”