by Darcy Burke
“Not at all. I am just returning from the mews after riding in the park. I saw your husband there, in fact.”
Sabrina did not react to him seeing Aldington. “May we go inside for a few minutes?”
“My apologies. I should have invited you straightaway.” He indicated for her to precede him to the door where the butler admitted them inside.
Lord Lucien’s house was much smaller and less opulently decorated than his brother’s or father’s. Which wasn’t to say it was spartan. The entry hall was compact, but the white marble floor gleamed, and a painting of a cloudy sky graced the wall.
“It’s an odd painting for an entry hall, I’ll grant you,” he said. “It reminds me of the sky in Portugal. I would lie on my back and stare up at the clouds, wondering where they’d been and where they were going. Sometimes, I fancied reaching up and catching a ride.”
She turned her head from the painting to see him smiling. “How do you possess so much charm compared to the other males in your family?”
Lines creased across his forehead as his smile dissipated, and a slight grimace pulled at his mouth instead. “Shall we adjourn to the library?”
He led her from the entry past the stairs and into the room at the back of the ground floor. It was a library but also a parlor with a comfortable seating area. Her gaze fell on a large desk in the corner, which was stacked with papers, and she realized it was also his study. It seemed Lord Lucien was an economical man, at least when it came to space.
“Can I offer you refreshment?” He stood in the center of the room, perhaps waiting for her to choose a place to sit.
“No, thank you.” Her bravado faltered for a moment. It was one thing to boldly face her husband and another to approach her brother-in-law, whom she didn’t know all that well. Then again, did she really know her husband well either? Perhaps not, but her frustration with him and their marriage provided an excellent fuel for her audacity. “I came to, ah, ask for your assistance. I understand you do that. Provide assistance, I mean.”
One of his dark brows ticked up. “I see. Tell me how I can help.”
Sabrina moved to a chair and perched on the edge of the peacock blue cushion. Lord Lucien set his hat and gloves upon the desk and took another chair nearby.
Gathering her courage, she laid out precisely what she required. “I am in need of a new wardrobe, and I should like to receive invitations to the best events the Season has to offer. You may wonder why I’m coming to you for this, and the truth is that I don’t know where else to go. I can’t ask my mother. She thinks my wardrobe is fine, and she’ll only tell me that as the Countess of Aldington, I already have everything I need and shouldn’t desire anything more.”
“How unhelpful,” he murmured. “I am sorry about that. Are there no other women with whom you may confer?”
Sabrina shook her head, feeling the old, familiar heat in her cheeks. Anxiety floated up her throat, and she struggled to swallow.
“I know just the person who can help you,” he said warmly. “Mrs. Renshaw is one of the patronesses at the Phoenix Club. She has excellent taste and is well-versed in the latest fashions. I’m not entirely sure how to help you garner the ‘best’ invitations, but I do have an idea that will vault you to the inner circle of London gossip and intrigue.”
That sounded troublesome. Sabrina didn’t care for gossip or intrigue. “Oh dear, do I want that?”
“Yes, because it will prompt people to invite you to everything.” He grinned and leaned back in his chair.
“Well, then I suppose I must. What is your idea?”
“I’m going to present your name to the membership committee of the Phoenix Club.”
She leaned forward and forgot she was already quite close to the edge of the seat. Gripping the arm of the chair, she resettled herself more firmly on the cushion. “Is Aldington a member?” She didn’t think he was, but she was hardly informed as to her husband’s activities.
“He is not.”
“Then how could I be a member?”
“Membership has nothing to do with a husband—or wife. We have several members whose spouses have not been invited and will likely never be.”
“Aldington would hate that,” she said softly, thinking it was the most wonderful idea she’d ever heard. She met Lord Lucien’s dark—and suddenly curious—gaze. “What a lovely offer, thank you.”
He rubbed his hand against his jaw a moment, studying her. “I don’t wish to intrude, but if you’re comfortable sharing, I wonder what is prompting this?”
There was no reason to say anything other than the truth. “I wish to be more like a countess.” It was her hope that Aldington would be more inclined to give her the attention she required if she better fulfilled her role. She lifted her chin and stiffened her spine. “I’m weary of being overlooked and ignored, of being shy and afraid.”
Lord Lucien blinked, a look of admiration flickering in his gaze, his head cocking to the side, as if he were regarding her in a new light. “I am delighted—no thrilled—to help. I can only imagine what Con thinks of this.”
“He doesn’t exactly know. I didn’t expect he could help me with any of this.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” Lord Lucien winced, as if he’d stepped in a thorny shrub. “I take it the state of your marriage is as sad as it looks.”
Sabrina was mildly surprised by his bluntness but didn’t find it unwelcome. “I don’t know how it ‘looks,’ but since we spend most of our time apart and I couldn’t tell you what he likes for breakfast or whether he is a member of the Phoenix Club, I would say sad is an accurate description.”
Now, he shocked her by swearing under his breath. “My apologies, Lady Aldington, but my brother is a colossal ass.”
“I won’t disagree with that assessment. However, in his defense, I have been less than amenable. I have been shy and…afraid.”
His eyes took on a dark intensity. “Not of him, I hope.”
“Not like that. He’s…intimidating. Or he was before I decided I wasn’t going to perceive him that way anymore. Honestly, you’re intimidating.”
“Am I?”
“I suspect it’s the Westbrook way.” Or the fact that nearly everyone intimidated her. Used to intimidate her.
“That sounds like some sort of rule that my father and brother would like. Hence, I hate it.” His tone was breezy and charming, and in that moment, Sabrina decided not to be intimidated by Lord Lucien either. Their father, however, was another matter. Hopefully she’d only have to suffer his company once or twice before she was able to return to Hampton Lodge where she would delightedly await the arrival of her child.
But first she had to entice her husband to create that child.
Would this transformation snare his attention? Joining the Phoenix Club would. It could also make him very angry. She’d seen a glimpse of his temper and wasn’t sure how far he could be pushed.
“I’m not going to be intimidated by you either, Lord Lucien,” Sabrina said, circling back to where they’d left off before thoughts of a murky but hopeful future had distracted her.
“Please call me Lucien. We are brother and sister, even if only by marriage.”
“Then you must call me Sabrina. I admit I find it odd that you and Lady Cassandra refer to Aldington by his Christian name.”
“How do you refer to him?”
“I don’t, really.”
“Of course you don’t,” Lucien muttered, wiping a hand over his forehead. “What is your end goal here, Sabrina? Are you trying to make this marriage into something more than it is?”
“Since it is currently next to nothing, yes. I’m not ready to ignore it. Certainly not until after I have a child.” Once she was no longer alone, she didn’t particularly care what happened.
His dark brows shot up. “That is your goal then—a child?”
“Yes.”
He massaged his temple. “You aren’t asking for help with that, are you?”
“No
.” She would not rule it out, however. Perhaps Mrs. Renshaw could be of assistance. She was a widow, after all.
Lucien sat forward in the chair, his hands braced on his knees. “I am going to pledge my assistance—and that of Evie, Mrs. Renshaw, I mean—to you. My brother might be the most uptight, remote jackass in England, next to our father of course, but I love him and want to see him happy, even if he doesn’t know what that means.”
“Do you think that’s true?” Sabrina didn’t know or understand her husband at all.
“Sometimes, yes. It’s been ages since I can recall a time when he seemed genuinely joyful, and I’m sorry to say it wasn’t when he married you.” His brow furrowed, and he looked past her. “I think it was before our mother died.”
“I’ve often wondered about that. He’s never spoken of her.”
Lucien’s gaze snapped to hers. “Never?”
She shook her head, and he sat back, extending his legs out while he adopted a pensive expression, his cheeks elongating as he tightened his jaw.
“Perhaps jealousy would unseat the giant stick up Con’s ass,” Lucien mused.
“I beg your pardon?”
Lucien sat straight and waved his hand. “We need to provoke a reaction from your husband, and your transformation will do just that. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you’re admitted to the Phoenix Club with due haste. That way you can attend the assembly next Friday. That will drive him mad, I’m sure. Especially when you are the toast of the ball.” His mouth spread into a wide, cat-like grin. “Come, let us go see Mrs. Renshaw.” He jumped to his feet and offered her his hand.
Sabrina took it, rising slowly to her feet as a mixture of excitement and trepidation washed over her. “Now?”
“There is no time to lose. The new enigmatic and devastatingly charming Lady Aldington awaits.” He waggled his brows at her, and Sabrina’s insides turned over. She hadn’t imagined such enthusiastic support.
Gratitude, along with a myriad of other emotions, welled within her. “Thank you.” She only hoped she could become the things he said. She’d give anything to be that woman.
Chapter 4
As Sabrina and Lucien stepped outside, she looked askance at him. “My maid is in the coach. I should bring her to Mrs. Renshaw’s.” He’d already explained that Mrs. Renshaw lived just a short walk away on the other side of St. James Square.
Lucien inclined his head. “I’ll direct the coach to meet you there.”
While he went to converse with the driver, Sabrina reached for the door to the coach, but the groom beat her to it. Smiling, she thanked him, then explained to Charity that they would be walking to their next destination.
“We’re just going to the other side of the square,” Sabrina explained as Charity joined her on the pavement. As Charity glanced toward where Lucien was speaking with the driver, Sabrina added, “That is his lordship’s brother, Lord Lucien. He’s helping me with, er, a surprise.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. “Remember, Charity, no gossip.”
“Not a word, my lady.” The maid shook her head solemnly even as her tawny eyes glimmered with excitement, as if she were thrilled to be included in something.
Lucien joined them and offered his arm to Sabrina who introduced him to Charity.
“My sister works in a house on Charles Street,” she said.
He glanced toward Charity. “That is where we are going, actually.”
Sabrina suddenly recalled that Charity had said her sister worked for Mrs. Renshaw. “My goodness, Charity, we are going to your sister’s employer’s house.” She glanced toward Lucien. “I’d forgotten that. Her sister is Mrs. Renshaw’s lady’s maid.”
Lucien’s brows climbed as he looked to Charity. “You must be the other Miss Taylor. I arranged for your position in my brother’s home. He was in need of an upstairs maid, and you were in need of employment—and now look at you, promoted to lady’s maid.” He winked at her, and Charity’s round cheeks turned bright pink.
“I can’t thank you enough, my lord.” She dipped a curtsey, her bonneted head bobbing as she looked toward the ground.
“It is my pleasure to help whomever I can,” Lucien said smoothly. “Now, let us be on our way.” He led Sabrina toward the square, and Charity followed behind them.
“Does Aldington know you did that?” Sabrina asked. “I can’t imagine he has anything to do with the hiring of servants or that he’s even aware when his household needs a new upstairs maid.”
“He does not. As with most men of his station, he leaves that sort of thing to their butlers. I have a network of people who contribute to my cause.”
“Haddock is part of that network?” she asked in surprise.
Lucien winked at her. “Don’t tell anyone.”
She tipped her head to the side and peered up at him. “What is your cause?”
“Helping people with whatever they require. Everyone deserves to have comfort and security and even to have their dreams come true.”
“Is that what you do?” Sabrina found herself smiling. She couldn’t imagine two brothers who were more different. “Fulfill people’s dreams?”
“I don’t know that I achieve that, but I do help where I can. Just as I’m going to help you.” They reached the other side of the square and started along Charles Street. At the second house, he stopped and pivoted. “Here we are.”
They continued up to the door where a rather young, and frankly attractive, man opened the door. Was he the butler?
“Good morning, Foster,” Lucien said cheerily. “We’re here to speak with Mrs. Renshaw.”
Foster opened the door wide. “Come in, my lord. I’ll take you up to the drawing room and fetch Mrs. Renshaw.”
The house was similar to Lucien’s in that it was a small terrace, but it had a distinctly feminine air with the paintings of flowers adorning the walls. They followed the butler into the stair hall and up to the first floor. Situated at the front of the house, the drawing room was most definitely decorated by a woman, with peach and ivory floral wallpaper and an array of furnishings in those colors in addition to russet and a pretty blue that was just a shade darker than Wedgwood. Sabrina had never been in a more stunningly appointed drawing room, and she knew immediately that she would wear whatever Mrs. Renshaw recommended.
A few moments later, their hostess swept into the drawing room. “What a lovely surprise!” Her gaze immediately landed on Charity, who smiled broadly at Mrs. Renshaw’s warm welcome. “Charity, your sister would love to see you. If you go back downstairs, Foster will direct you to the kitchen. That is where you’ll find Delilah presently.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Charity curtsied, then looked to Sabrina who nodded.
She’d no sooner left the room than Mrs. Renshaw approached Sabrina. “You must be Lady Aldington.”
Sabrina clasped her hands, nervous as usual when meeting someone. “I am.”
Lucien stepped closer as if he sensed her discomfort. “She’s here to make your acquaintance and obtain some assistance that you are perfectly suited to provide.” He gave Sabrina an encouraging smile which helped ease her trepidation.
Mrs. Renshaw possessed the most intriguing eyes Sabrina had ever seen. The color of lapis lazuli, they were rounded but turned up on the outside corner, almost like a cat. With her sculpted cheekbones and plump lips, she was a model of beauty Sabrina could never achieve with her too-pale skin and too-sharp chin. Her mother had always said her coppery blonde hair was her best feature, but Sabrina found herself envying the rich russet hues of Mrs. Renshaw’s. Perhaps because there seemed to be some gold and red intertwined with the dark locks, as if she’d been kissed by the sun—which carried over to her skin, for it held far more color and vibrancy than Sabrina’s.
One of Mrs. Renshaw’s dark brows arched as she glanced toward Lucien, making her eyes look even more captivating. “Indeed? I am eager to help however I may. Shall we sit?” She flashed a smile at Sabrina as she indicated a seating area with a settee
and two chairs near the windows that overlooked Charles Street below.
Sabrina had to blink and stop focusing on Mrs. Renshaw’s attractiveness. Comparing herself to other women was a bad habit she would blame on her mother, for she had constantly done that during Sabrina’s one and only Season two years ago.
“I’m not going to stay. You don’t need my intrusion,” Lucien said with a smile. He directed his dark gaze at Sabrina. “Tell her exactly what you require and don’t withhold a thing. Evie will know exactly what to do.” He winked toward Mrs. Renshaw.
Mrs. Renshaw’s lips curved up. “I can already tell this is going to be a delightful association.”
After bowing to them, Lucien took his leave. Sabrina went to the settee and managed to sit despite the anxiety teeming through her. It had been difficult enough to find the courage to seek out her brother-in-law, and now she had to do it all over again with a complete stranger. A beautiful stranger, who was gazing at her with kindness and compassion.
Suddenly it was all too much.
Sabrina’s throat constricted and tears welled.
Mrs. Renshaw had sat in a chair opposite Sabrina, but now she leapt up and joined Sabrina on the settee. Putting her arm around Sabrina’s shoulders, she gave her a squeeze. “Cry, scream, rail, do whatever you must,” she said softly but with an edge of steely determination that was perhaps more soothing than anything else she was doing.
“I don’t really want to do any of those things,” Sabrina managed as she wiped at her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Horror rose in her chest. How had she exposed herself so easily—and readily—to a complete stranger?
Mrs. Renshaw patted her back. “There’s no shame, and whatever you say or do here will be kept completely confidential. How can I help?”
A comfort Sabrina rarely experienced settled over her. Mrs. Renshaw had put her immediately at ease with her kindness and authenticity. She had to be the first person Sabrina had met who’d done so. Taking a breath to quell her remaining nerves, she repeated what she’d told Lucien about needing a wardrobe and invitations.