The Offer (27 page)

“Let us talk of something other than money, Phillip.”

“Yes, I suppose so. It's depressing, talking about money, that is.”

She rose. “Will you be dining here tonight?”

She looked lovely and scared and defensive. He rose slowly to face her. He lightly touched his fingertips to her jaw. Freedom, he thought. He couldn't forget his freedom. Nor could he ever afford to let her forget it. He wanted to take her right this instant, on the beautiful Aubusson at their feet.

No, he wouldn't ever allow himself to be a pet dog at her feet. “Yes, I'll certainly dine here, but then I'm off. I have an engagement this evening and won't be home until very late. Then if you like, I'll come to you, Sabrina, or if you please, you can come to me, and we can try again to make you scream with pleasure.”

She pulled her arm back, but he caught her fist at least six inches from his jaw. “I thought you loved me,” he said.

She stared into his hazel eyes. “Yes, but I still want to kill you.”

He laughed, released her, and stepped back. At least his wife was no longer a virgin. She still wasn't a satisfied woman, but he had time. They had the rest
of their lives. He didn't like the sound of that in his mind, but somehow he liked the feel of it in his gut.

Freedom, it was all a matter of freedom. He took another step away from her, then said, “What gown do you intend to wear?”

What was in his mind? “Rose satin,” she said. “It hasn't yet arrived from the dressmaker.”

“It should go well with your hair.”

“I hope so. Charlie thought that it would.”

“I don't give a good damn about Charles's opinion about anything regarding my wife.”

That made her smile, and he saw it. “I'm not jealous of that blockhead, Sabrina.”

“Certainly not, my lord. That would be a very petty thing and if there's anything at all I understand about you, it's that you're never petty.”

She didn't know exactly what he was, but she imagined, being a wife for life, that she would discover everything about him in the years to come. Years during which he would have mistresses. And spend time with them. She supposed, fool that she was, that she'd really expected him to stay with her after last night. She'd given him everything she had.

It still wasn't enough. She met with Mrs. Hawley and discussed new sheets.

The arrival of her rose satin gown the next day from the dressmaker's didn't make her smile.

Sabrina stared at herself in the mirror. The rose satin gown with its layers of Valenciennes lace edging the bodice and sleeves made her look more like a medieval lady than a modern one. But it was unusual and lovely. She didn't look too bad either, praise be to God.

He hadn't come to her. She'd wanted to go to him, but she hadn't. She was afraid she'd smell his mistress's perfume on him again.

He could have at least come to her once, just once, but he hadn't.

She was reaching for a single strand of pearls when there was a knock on the door. She was in one of the smaller bedchambers. She assumed he was back in his own.

“Come,” she called out. She nodded absently to Doris and began to finger the clasp on the necklace.

“Oh, it's you, my lord. Do come in. Her ladyship is lovely, isn't she? I was worried about the shade of the gown, you know, but it's very elegant.”

Sabrina was grinning at her maid's enthusiasm when she turned around and nearly froze her tongue in her mouth. Phillip stood in the doorway, dressed in severe black, his cravat and shirt as white as new snow. It would be cold to the touch, surely. She'd never seen a more beautiful man in all her life, not that her life
was all that long, but still, there could be no man on the earth to compare to him. Well, at least in London. She wanted to just spit it out and kiss him and run her hands over him, but she stood still, waiting.

He was just standing there, after he'd dismissed Doris, studying her, like a man deciding whether or not he'd buy a hunter.

Then he smiled and stepped to her. “Just one more small item, Sabrina, and all the gentlemen will fall inert at your feet.”

He was the only man she wanted inert at her feet and she didn't want him inert at all. “Good evening, Phillip. What are you talking about? What item?”

Phillip opened a narrow jewelry box. Nestled on a bed of black velvet was a delicate diamond necklace.

It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She just stared at it.

“I saw your gown earlier. I think the diamonds will be more striking than the pearls. What do you think?”

She picked up the necklace, watching the diamonds spill over her palm. “It's incredible. Oh, Phillip, thank you.” She threw her arms around his neck.

He didn't move, his arms remaining at his sides. But he did kiss her temple. “Let me fasten the necklace.”

She felt the coldness of the diamonds flat against her throat, then the warmth of his fingers touching the back of her neck. He said, “I wanted something new for you. All the other Mercerault pieces are heavy and old, too big for you. There, do you like it?”

But she didn't look at the necklace first. She looked in the mirror at him, standing behind her. “Beautiful,” she said. “Simply beautiful.”

He looked suddenly embarrassed.

“The necklace, Sabrina.”

“I don't look like myself. It glitters so much it will blind our guests.”

“Good. That will keep all the men from staring at you.”

Staring at her? Now that was a jest that didn't deserve to be repeated.

He was looking about her bedchamber. “Mrs. Hawley told me you moved in here yesterday. Will it be all right until we can have the viscountess's bedchamber redone for you?”

“It's fine.”

Phillip ran his hand over the top of a French chair covered in a pale blue velvet that she'd found in another room and moved in here. It was a lovely chair, one that surely wouldn't hold his weight.

“I didn't buy that chair.”

“No, I know that you didn't.”

“But if I had bought the chair, then I would have paid for it myself.”

“That's kind of you. Now, shall we go downstairs?”

As they walked down the wide staircase, she remembered the gown and gulped. “I must tell you the truth, Phillip. The gown was very expensive. I forgot about it, really. Would you like me to pay for it?”

“No. Consider the necklace and the gown wedding presents from your doting husband.”

He gazed thoughtfully at her a moment. “There's one guest you're not expecting. I hope you'll enjoy seeing him.”

She had no idea what man he could possible have invited for her. And he wouldn't even give her a hint.

The twenty guests who sat down at the long dining table amid laughter and rustling gowns included not one unknown face. She looked down at the head of the table when there was a shout of laughter. Everyone around Phillip was laughing at something he'd said. She gave over her attention to the Countess of
March, a beautiful young lady who was ready to amuse and be amused.

As the meal progressed to the baked pheasant, Sabrina glanced down to where her aunt Barresford was seated and was relieved to see a smile on her relative's face. No one had refused her invitation, and Sabrina wondered with some cynicism if the guests had come merely to see if she would embarrass herself.

She was forced to marvel at her husband's adept handling of their guests. Both gentlemen and ladies alike appeared to bask in his attention, tossed with cavalier charm first to one, then to another. To her prejudiced eye, there was but one other gentleman to rival him. The Earl of March, seated near the middle of the long table, next to Aunt Barresford, appeared to be in his element, just as was the viscount. As for the Countess of March, that young lady had been very kind to her. “My dear,” she whispered low just as they were leaving the dining room, “we must discuss how best to strip this masculine stronghold of its bachelor trappings. At last Phillip has seen the light. It's a good thing. I've always liked him, but now that he has you, I daresay he'll improve nearly to the sainthood of my husband. Yes, you must visit me in Grosvenor Square and we will settle upon a strategy.”

By ten o'clock the ballroom was filled with more guests than had their wedding reception just a week ago, Sabrina thought. Only a week.

“Your husband has done quite well by you, Sabrina,” her aunt Barresford remarked, surveying the beautifully dressed men and women. “I imagine that Teresa Elliott must be having a fit not to have been invited, not that she should have expected to be, given what she did to you.”

Aunt Barresford appeared to have changed her stripes. Sabrina just smiled. “Phillip said if he ever
saw her again he would wring her neck, but I told him that if we didn't invite her, I would have just one more enemy to deal with. He agreed, but he didn't want to. I'm sorry she's evidently decided not to come.”

A half hour later Teresa Elliott arrived on the arm of her brother, Wilfred. He didn't look at all happy. Resigned, yes, that was how poor Wilfred looked. As for Teresa, she looked beautiful, but there was a dangerous glitter in her eyes. Sabrina prayed she'd keep a hold on herself.

Wilfred was saying to his sister, his voice low and controlled, “You've ranted and acted like a fishwife for the entire past week. If you have a brain in your head, if you have an ounce of sense, you'll make a push to be pleasant.”

“Just look at her, Wilfred, lording it all over everybody, just like she belonged.”

“She does belong. If you value your social position, you'd best wipe that nasty look off your face. You don't want everyone to know you've had a telling blow, do you?”

Teresa was forced to hold her peace as she and Wilfred came to the viscount and viscountess in the receiving line.

“How delightful that you could come,” Sabrina said, nodding pleasantly to both Miss Elliott and her brother.

Teresa inclined her head, her eyes on the viscount's profile.

“Phillip,” Sabrina said, tugging slightly on his sleeve. “Miss Elliott and her brother, Wilfred.”

Phillip turned from a brief conversation with Lord William Ramsey. His hazel eyes instantly lost their compelling warmth.

“I was just telling Wilfred, my lord, that you were
so naughty to wed Miss Eversleigh so very quickly. None of us scarce had time to get to know her.”

Phillip gave Sabrina a lazy smile, then said easily, “I would rather say, Teresa, that if I hadn't finally managed to convince her to wed me so quickly, I might have lost the most beautiful lady in London to another gentleman. We Merceraults have always been noted for our brains, you know. Wilfred, I trust your studies are continuing?”

“Oh yes, my lord.”

Phillip watched the brother and sister go into the ballroom. “This could afford me some amusement. If she tries anything unpleasant with you, Sabrina, you have my permission to hurl a plate or a glass at her. Then, if she doesn't subside, you can kick her.”

“Thank you. Perhaps I'll even stick close to her in hopes that she will insult me. May I really kick her?”

“Yes, but try not to let too many of our guests see you.”

Another couple claimed her attention and it was some ten more minutes before Phillip turned again to Sabrina. “Waltz with me, Sabrina. I think we have finally greeted every guest.”

“And not one of them your ‘surprise,' Phillip.”

“I assume that he decided he didn't wish to come,” he said as he took her arm.

Within minutes, Sabrina was laughing, her eyes alight with pleasure. “You see, Phillip, not everyone is unkind in London.”

“You're jesting with me. Even you can't be that thick.”

“Very well, but I can so easily forget when we're waltzing. Oh, I very much like the Earl and Countess of March. They're charming.”

Phillip remembered the earl's words to him several days before at Gentleman Jackson's. He said more to
himself than to her, “Julien certainly follows his own advice. Never have I seen a young lady less broken to bridle.”

“Breaking to bridle? What's this about?”

A space cleared on the dance floor and Phillip suddenly whirled her around in smooth, wide circles. When he drew her back into a more sedate pace, she was panting and laughing at the same time. “Oh, that was wonderful.”

He dropped a kiss on the fat braid on top of her head. A rose ribbon was threaded through the braids. It was an excellent style on her. She moved closer to him. He frowned. He hadn't meant to do that, he hadn't.

“I believe,” he said as the music came to an end, “that our surprise guest has arrived. If I'm not mistaken, he wishes to dance with you.”

Sabrina turned to face Richard Clarendon. She cocked her head to one side. There'd been just a hint of chill in Phillip's voice. How odd.

“Richard,” she said, and swept him a curtsy.

Richard Clarendon gazed down at the slender, vibrant girl before him and for a moment forgot all his gallant banter, compliments so much a part of him that he could speak them while continuing his own thoughts. “You're well, Sabrina?”

“Yes, Richard, I'm very well.”

“I'm delighted you could come, Richard,” Phillip said. “My wife dearly loves to waltz. Perhaps you would like to indulge her?”

She forgot their last meeting at Moreland when she'd been flat on her back, sicker than she'd care to admit, and he'd tried to bend her to his will. She looked up at him, seeing an extraordinarily handsome man who looked altogether dark and dangerous. “Perhaps Richard doesn't want to dance, Phillip.”

Richard Clarendon merely nodded to Phillip and took Sabrina's arm. She smiled up at him, craning her neck, for he was some inches taller even than Phillip. He whirled her away into the throng.

“Good God, Phillip, what the devil are you doing? Have you lost your good sense?”

Phillip turned to see Charles Askbridge standing at his elbow.

Phillip looked down a moment at his well-manicured fingernails. He said mildly, “Clarendon just arrived in town. He's a friend, Charles. Would you that I barred him from my home?”

“He still wants her. Just look at the way he's staring at her. You're placing Sabrina in a rather awkward position. I wouldn't do it.”

Phillip just shrugged. “Excuse me, Charles, I believe I'll dance with Teresa. I can't wait to see what she has to say. I'll either start laughing at the absurdity of it all or strangle her on the dance floor. Which do you think is preferable?”