by Kruger, Mary
“She is with the duke, in his study,” Gwendolyn said. “I expect she will be back quite soon.”
“I hope so, ma’am.”
“Do you?” Gwendolyn studied him. “Your interest in her is rather sudden, is it not?”
“One must keep in style.” He smiled as he indicated the others in the room. “And it seems that my sister and my cousin are both in style.”
“And engaged.”
He nodded, as if she’d scored a point. “Is she happy about it?”
“Oliver is a duke.”
“So he is. What if she chooses not to marry him, though?”
“Why, as to that, Reginald, I shall see she is cared for. You raise a good point.” She looked thoughtful. “Yes. I hadn’t thought of that, but I believe I shall provide her with a dowry.”
“Bainbridge will hardly require it, ma’am.”
“No, perhaps not, but she should have an income of her own. I am getting old, Reginald. I would be failing in my duty to her if I did not provide for her before I go.”
“Auntie Gwen, you mustn’t talk like that!” Fanny exclaimed.
“Don’t be a goose, Fanny, I speak only the truth. And perhaps I should see to my will,” she said,
“Aunt Gwendolyn, I fully expect you’ll outlive us all,” Reginald said, after one shocked moment. It was one thing guessing that she might leave her money elsewhere; it was another to have it confirmed. “I believe I will speak to my sister. If you will excuse me?”
“Of course. And don’t despair, Reginald. There’s always tomorrow.”
He smiled and turned, and no one could guess from his face what was in his heart. Let the old bitch change her will. It didn’t matter. Somehow, that money would be his.
In his study, Oliver sat behind his desk. Sabrina, after taking one quick look at his face, stood before him in her accustomed position on the carpet. She didn’t think he knew anything of her activities of yesterday, since he didn’t seem angry enough, but the copied document, which she still had in her possession, weighed heavily on her mind.
Oliver looked up at her. “So?” he said, after a few moments.
“So?” she echoed. “What have I done now?”
“What was going on in my drawing room just now?”
The tight muscles in Sabrina’s shoulders relaxed just a bit. “Oh, a flirtation or two, quite possibly a seduction—”
“Sabrina!”
“They are my friends, sir.”
“Your friends! Your friends write poems about you? About your eyebrows?”
She giggled. “Wasn’t that ridiculous? But better that than my nose.”
“I don’t care—what? Your nose?”
“He assures me that his next effort will be an ode to my nose.” Her eyes sparkled, inviting him to share in her amusement at such absurdity, and finally his face relaxed.
“My house isn’t my own anymore,” he said plaintively. “Whenever I come in there are all these young men hanging about. You have quite cut up my peace, Sabrina.”
“I am sorry, sir. Shall I send them away?”
He looked at her for a moment. “No, of course not,” he said in more normal tones. “I suppose you deserve your court.”
“I suppose I do,” she said, striking a pose. “I am a hit.”
He grinned. “So you are. Just don’t let it go to your head.”
She sank down into one of the comfortable armchairs that faced his desk, one leg tucked under her. “It won’t last, sir. Most of them are just following the fashion. For some reason I am all the rage. I can’t imagine why.” He looked at her sharply. “I’m not what any of them are expected to marry—an American, and penniless, to boot.”
“You are a Carrick. Any man should be proud to have you.”
“But I am already engaged, sir.”
“So you are,” he said, lightly. “Well? Why do you stay here, Sabrina? Your court is waiting.”
“That will never do,” she said in the same light tones. “You will excuse me, sir.”
“Of course. Oh, and Sabrina.” She turned from the door. “Next time wear your hair differently,” he said, because she persisted, in spite of his scolding, to wear it down.
“I’ve set a style, you know, Oliver.”
“I did not give you permission to use my name.”
“Yesterday in the park I saw a girl with her hair down. Georgina Moulton, you know, the Earl of Stanton’s daughter? It didn’t look half so good on her,” she added.
“That doesn’t signify. You will obey me, girl.” For answer, she stuck out her tongue just as she scampered through the door, and, still grinning, he got up to go after her.
His smile faded when he reached the doorway. Near the front door Sabrina stood speaking to Reginald Hailey, just leaving. Oliver’s hands clenched into fists. Damn it, what was he doing here?
Sabrina, unaware of Oliver’s gaze, and a little piqued by the orders he persisted in giving, graciously accepted Reginald’s invitation to drive in the park that afternoon and then climbed the stairs to the drawing room. Gwendolyn gestured her over as she came back in. “Yes, Grandmama?” Sabrina said, sitting beside her.
“Did he beat you, Sabrina?” she asked, bluntly.
“Who, Bainbridge? Goodness, no. He tells me I cut up his peace.”
“It’s about time someone did.”
Sabrina smiled. “I agree. If you will excuse me, ma’am, I must return to my guests.”
“Of course.” Gwendolyn watched her go, smiling. At last Oliver was coming to his senses. With luck, she and Reginald would turn the trick.
That afternoon Oliver watched out the window as Sabrina climbed into a stylish phaeton, assisted by Reginald, and his hands clenched into fists. It was too late now for him to do anything, but he was not going to let this state of affairs continue. Frowning, he ran up the stairs to Gwendolyn’s apartments. She was reclining on the chaise longue in her sitting room, looking tired. “Well, Oliver,” she said. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“Sabrina has gone for a drive with Reginald.”
“Yes, I know.” She smiled, and Oliver stared at her.
“And you are not at all concerned?”
“She is chaperoned, is she not?”
“No, she is not. She is in his phaeton. Which I consider, by the way, to be too unsafe a vehicle for her.”
Gwendolyn’s eyes twinkled. Obviously he cared more than he would admit. “I see. However, Sabrina is a sensible girl, Oliver, and they will be in public. She told me he intends to drive through the park. I do not think you need to worry.”
“Worry! Do you think I am worried about her?”
“Yes, Oliver, I do.”
“Oh, very well. She is very young, Grandmama. Too young to handle him.”
“She is a sensible girl. She won’t be taken in by him.”
“I hope not. I would not wish to see any young woman with Reginald, and I did not like seeing him in my house.”
“What could I do, Oliver, turn him away? He has entree everywhere.”
“I still don’t trust him, ma’am. I know him too well. Remember, I grew up with him.” He thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat and stared gloomily out the window. “Watched his mischief enough times.”
“A normal boy’s tricks, Oliver.”
“Oh? What of the time he broke into a tenant’s cottage and threw things about? No reason, he said, he just wanted to do it. And the time he took out Father’s prize hunter, and lamed him, so that he had to be shot? Just a normal boy’s tricks, Grandmama?”
“Well, no,” she admitted.
“He always worked it so that I’d get blamed. I couldn’t sit down for a week after the thrashing Father gave me. Not Reginald, though. Cousin Fanny’s precious son could never do anything wrong,” he said, bitterly.
“I sometimes wonder, if he’d had stricter guidance—but that’s beside the point. You think he is up to something?”
“I believe that he is not above
using Sabrina to get to you.”
“Perhaps,” Gwendolyn said, “but I can handle him.”
“Can you? If he hurts her?”
“He won’t.”
Oliver frowned. Grandmama was sharp, but everyone had a blind spot. If she didn’t see what Reginald was like, he could. “What did he want here today?”
“Why, merely to visit. Sabrina is quite attractive, you will agree. ‘Tis no wonder she is so popular.”
“Yes,” he said, gloomily. “But, I warn you, ma’am. I will not tolerate Reginald hanging about her.”
“Oh, pooh!” She settled herself more comfortably on the chaise longue. “You refine too much upon it, Oliver. Now, go do whatever work it is you have to do. I would rest for a while.”
“Certainly.” He looked at her closely. “Are you feeling quite the thing, ma’am?”
“Just a trifle tired. You needn’t fear I will wear myself out chaperoning Sabrina. I leave that responsibility to you.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, and his voice was grim. “That I will do.”
Reginald’s high-perch phaeton turned into the park and took its place in the slow-moving cavalcade of vehicles already there, promenading at this most fashionable hour. Though she had been in society for a brief time, Sabrina already knew many people, and she was kept occupied waving and smiling at various acquaintances. Quite different from her drive here with Oliver little over a week ago, she thought, and repressed a sigh. Mr. Hailey was quite charming, but he was not Oliver.
“You are quite popular, I see, Cousin,” Reginald said, when no less a personage than Beau Brummel, had hailed her. “I may call you ‘Cousin,’ may I not?”
Sabrina turned to him. “Why, of course, since that is what we are.”
“And perhaps we could be more one day.”
She had turned away, but this brought her head back, to stare at him in surprise. “But I am already engaged, sir.”
“I beg your pardon, Cousin, I did not mean to distress you,” he said smoothly, competently controlling his team of grays, who had started at some imagined fright. Sabrina had the irrelevant thought that, while Reginald might drive to a inch, Oliver would never have let his team become upset in the first place. “I merely meant that I hoped we could be friends.” He was smiling at her, his head tilted a bit to the side, and the slight crookedness of his smile only added to its charm. Sabrina could feel her surprise melting.
“Why, of course, sir, I would like that. I really have so few friends here, you see.” She waved her hand vaguely toward the throng of people.
“Fustian, Sabrina. As I said, you are quite popular.”
“Only because I’ve been taken up by Bainbridge. And now by you.” Reginald didn’t answer. He had noticed, if she had not, that few people had acknowledged them on his behalf instead of hers, and that rankled. His hands tightened on the ribbons, and the grays shied again. That would change, he promised himself. One way or another, it would change, and the means of making things better for him sat beside him now.
“If I’d come here by myself, as myself,” Sabrina was saying, plain Miss V—Carrick, no one would have looked at me twice. Including you.” The eyes she turned on him twinkled. “I fear I would not have been fashionable enough for you, sir.”
That crooked smile curved his lips again. “Ah, but I am persuaded I would have seen in you a diamond of the first water.”
“A diamond in the rough, you mean.”
“Come, Sabrina, this will not do,” he said, briskly. “You are the reigning toast, and that can only redound to my credit.”
“Your credit!”
“I have you up beside me, have I not?”
Sabrina smiled, totally succumbing to the charm of his smile and the twinkle in his own eyes. “Yes, we make a vastly elegant pair, do we not?”
“Quite. Almost as if we were made for each other.” Sabrina’s eyes were startled, and his voice lost its bantering note. “Seriously, Sabrina, I would be more than happy to stand your friend.”
Absurd tears prickled at the back of Sabrina’s eyes. She had had many things given to her since coming to England, but rarely had anyone offered her such a gift, simple, uncomplicated friendship. Certainly, that wasn’t what she had with Oliver. “I would like that, sir. I suspect I could use a friend in this world.”
“Then friends we shall be,” he said, and if Sabrina had been looking at him she would have seen his smile change briefly to a self-satisfied smirk.
“Miss Carrick,” someone said, and Reginald glanced up to see a man approaching them on horseback. With the eyes of a true dandy, Reginald studied him, noticing the sandy hair, brushed straight back, the features, nondescript except for the startlingly pale eyes, and his coat, which certainly had not come from the hands of an English tailor. There was nothing at all interesting about this man, except for one thing. His appearance had made Sabrina go stiff as a board.
“Mr. Tenbroeck,” Sabrina said as the man approached, and the coolness in her voice quickened Reginald’s interest. “I was not aware that you rode in the park at this time.”
“I find I like the exercise,” Tenbroeck said, doffing his hat.
“What, didn’t you have enough the other day? Mr. Tenbroeck likes to run,” she said to Reginald, who did not at all understand that statement but was vastly intrigued by the fury he saw flit across the other man’s face. “I am sorry, have you met?”
“I haven’t had that pleasure, Cousin,” he said.
“Mr. Tenbroeck, my I present my cousin, Mr. Hailey. Mr. Tenbroeck is with the American legation, Cousin.”
“Ah, I see. Then your coat is American made.”
For the first time, Tenbroeck transferred his attention away from Sabrina. “Yes, what of it?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” Reginald said, airily.
“We must be moving, sir,” Sabrina said. “I am certain Mr. Hailey does not wish to keep his horses standing.”
“One moment, Miss—Carrick,” Tenbroeck said, and Sabrina’s hand knotted in her skirt. “Will you be attending Lady Holton’s rout tomorrow evening?”
“Yes, sir, as it happens, I am.”
“Then we shall see each other there.”
Alarm flashed in Sabrina’s eyes, and her hand clutched her skirt more tightly. “Certainly, sir,” she said, her voice cool. “But for now, we really must be going.”
“Of course.” Tenbroeck’s horse moved away, and he inclined his head. “Miss Carrick, Mr. Hailey.”
Reginald nodded, and, giving his horses the office to start, drove away. Beside him, Sabrina sat, still and stiff, making his mind seethe with conjecture. “Is he giving you trouble, Sabrina?” he asked.
Sabrina started, and then slowly forced herself to relax. She must give no indication of how that man affected her. “Why, no, of course not, sir,” she said, her voice light. “But I do find him most disagreeable. I fear that because we are both Americans he thinks we have more in common than we do.”
“Ah, I see. And you are both Dutch, I gather. You aren’t, by chance, related?”
“Why, no.” Her hand was clutching her skirt again. “There are many Dutch in my country, you know.”
“Of course.” He drove for a few moments in silence, his mind working furiously. “But if he bothers you, you must come to me.”
Sabrina turned to him. “Thank you, sir,” she said, gratefully. “I think he will not bother me overmuch, but I do appreciate the thought.”
“We are friends, are we not?” he said, and she smiled.
“Yes. We are friends.”
They had reached a gate and, rather than turning for another circuit of the park, Reginald drove out again. It was going to be ridiculously easy, he thought. Sabrina had accepted his offer of friendship at face value, the fool. And she was quite pretty. Perhaps he really would deepen the friendship into something more.
“Will you be at Lady Holton’s tomorrow, sir?” she asked, as he handed her down from the phaeton in Mount St
reet
Reginald shook his head. “Dashed dull affairs, ton parties. I sent my regrets long ago. But if I’d known you were going to be attending, Cousin—”
“Gammon!” Sabrina laughed. “But I appreciate the compliment.”
“I see I cannot fool you, Sabrina,” he said, escorting her to the door, and bowing over her hand. “Until another day, then.”
“Yes.” Sabrina retrieved her hand and turned, as Hastings opened the door. It was very strange. Her cousin was indeed very handsome, and yet the touch of his lips on her hand meant nothing. Certainly, it could not compare with Oliver’s. “Another day.” Smiling at him, she went inside.
“Sabrina.” Oliver stepped out from his study, his face set in stern lines, and she looked up, surprised. “I would like a word with you.”
Sabrina’s heart jumped in her chest. He was in his study, where he kept his documents, and he was angry. That could only mean one thing. She had been discovered.
Chapter 18
“Certainly, sir.” A strange calm descended over Sabrina as she followed Oliver to his study. She almost felt relieved that it was over. She would be disowned, disgraced, but, just now, that seemed preferable to living with Tenbroeck’s threats hanging over her head.
“Sit down,” Oliver said curtly, closing the door behind them, and she perched on the edge of a chair. He leaned against the desk facing her, and his eyes were cold. “Where have you been?”
Sabrina looked up, surprised. “Why, out driving with Mr. Hailey, sir.”
“Unchaperoned?”
“We were in the park! You did not object when I went there the other day with Danbury. Besides, there was hardly room for a third person in Mr. Hailey’s phaeton.”
Oliver’s eyes darkened still more, to the color of slate. “I will not have you riding in that ridiculous contraption again. It is unsafe.”
“But he is a perfectly good driver,” she protested. “I was safe enough.”
“Nevertheless, you will not go driving with him again. Is that clear?”