“Who the devil do you think you are? You have no right to interfere in my life.”
“I have every right,” Lucien contradicted coolly, his grip tightening in anger. “I think you owe me a few explanations, Sabrina.”
“I owe you nothing. What can you do? You certainly can’t reveal the truth about me. It would be far too embarrassing for you as well. Besides, I am no longer playing the highwayman. That should satisfy you,” she told him.
“I will not be satisfied until I know everything about you, Sabrina,” he retorted. “You are an enigma, and a challenge I cannot resist. When I think of the wild chase you’ve led me on, damned if you aren’t the most exasperating female,” he swore beneath his breath.
“No one asked you to follow. No one asked you to interfere, and it is obvious that we only anger one another, so I would appreciate it, no, I demand that you do not concern yourself with my affairs,” Sabrina told him.
Lucien’s jaw hardened and he cursed her beneath his breath before pulling her against him roughly. “I swore I’d find you and make you pay for playing me the fool, and by God I shall. Regardless of whether you’re the daughter of a marquis or a footman, you’ll pay, Sabrina,” he promised before his mouth found hers and he began to kiss the angry defiance from her as his lips moved hungrily against hers. Sabrina struggled against him, unwilling to have her lips betray her true feelings for this arrogant Duke, but he would not be denied and kept kissing her until her lips began to soften beneath his.
“Sabrina!” a voice called from the path.
Lucien raised his head reluctantly, listening as he heard the voice call out again. Sabrina was breathing heavily as she struggled from Lucien’s arms, managing to free herself except for her wrist, which Lucien wrapped his fingers around.
The marquis found them standing side by side as he marched forward angrily, not recognizing the duke at first. “Where the devil have you been, Sabrina? Sir, I demand that—” the marquis began curtly, only to stop as he recognized the man standing beside Sabrina. “Why, your grace, is anything amiss?” He looked sharply at Sabrina’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and then nervously at the duke. “If you’ll excuse us, your grace, I would like my daughter to meet a few people. This is her first introduction to society and as she is new, she isn’t aware that it is bad for her reputation to walk alone in the gardens with a gentleman. Sabrina,” he said in a tight voice, taking her arm in a firm grip as he eased her away from the duke. “We’ll see you later, perhaps, your grace?”
“My apologies for detaining your daughter,” Lucien replied casually, before walking away.
“What the devil do you think you were up to?” the marquis accused Sabrina, turning on her as soon as the duke was out of sight. “He’ll ruin your reputation, and then we can’t get anyone to wed you.”
“I had little choice in the matter,” Sabrina answered shortly, her nerves still taut from her meeting with Lucien. “I can hardly snub a duke, can I?”
The marquis sighed irritably. “No, but it won’t do you any good, my girl, to be setting your sights on him, for he is practically wed. He and his fiancée are set to be married next week,” the marquis informed her, not seeing the anguish that entered her eyes at his news. “A pity, for he’s damned rich.”
The rest of the evening seemed to pass in a haze of unfamiliar voices and faces. Every time Sabrina glanced up she was aware of the duke’s presence; he was always there staring with sherry-colored eyes, a cynical twist to his lips as he watched the marquis maneuvering his daughters into the upper circle of eligible bachelors, especially that of the Duke of Granston.
Sabrina was pale and wan-looking when the marquis finally decided to end the evening, his unconcealed smile of triumph at the success of the evening sickening her. Sabrina glanced uncomfortably at the contessa, whose complacent smile and knowing eyes that studied her every move seemed to hint at a shared secret. But what could she have possibly found out, Sabrina wondered. She twisted her fingers together nervously, feeling as though a rope were tightening around her neck. Sabrina glanced at the silent Mary, who had a hand pressed to her temple. She would have to find out what Mary was feeling—if she sensed anything.
But Sabrina didn’t have to ask Mary, for she sought Sabrina out later that night as they undressed for bed, her gray eyes worried as she confronted Sabrina.
“I don’t like this situation at all,” she began as she threaded her hair into a thick braid over her shoulder. “I feel something is about to happen, Rina, and I don’t know if we can stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“It’s a who,” she corrected Sabrina. “It’s the duke. I saw him tonight. Before it has only been in dreams, but tonight I actually saw him in the flesh, and, Sabrina, he frightens me. He is such a cruel-looking man,” she said shuddering, “and he had eyes only for you, Rina. He recognized you, didn’t he?”
Sabrina nodded. “Yes, and now he knows who I am, but I don’t know what he can do. I really don’t think anyone would believe his story; besides, it would only cause a scandal, and I know he would not desire that.” Her violet eyes were clouded as she looked to Mary for answers. “But I don’t trust him, Mary. He wants revenge against something he believes I did to him, and I don’t think he’ll rest until he has it—and that means ruining me in some way. I don’t know what to do,” Sabrina whispered shakily.
“I want to go back to Verrick House, Rina,” Mary told her suddenly, a new firmness in her voice. “I feel it’s dangerous for us to be here in London.”
Sabrina raised her face from her hands. “Dangerous?” Sabrina asked incredulously. “Surely you don’t think Lucien would try to harm me that way?”
“No, I don’t feel physical danger from him, although I know he means to cause trouble, Rina,” Mary explained. “But I am disturbed by something, some feeling of evil I felt this evening. I felt so chilled, so deathly still, that I know someone has died, Rina, and in some way we are involved.” Mary grasped Sabrina’s hands, her hands so cold that Sabrina shivered as she touched her.
“We’ve got to leave here, Rina, and soon,” Mary pleaded with her.
Sabrina bit her lip until it hurt. “How can we? You know what the marquis threatened about Richard and Aunt Margaret. He’ll do it, too, unless we give in to him.” Sabrina sniffed, her eyes filling with tears she tried to hold in check. “I don’t know what we can do. I’ll have to think of something to spoil the marquis’ plans, and soon. At least there is nothing the duke can do. Besides,” Sabrina added huskily, “we needn’t worry about him much longer for he is to be married next week, and I doubt whether he will be giving a thought to me. He’ll have other things to occupy his mind. I’m not going to worry about him, for I must devote all my energies to the marquis.”
Mary nodded absently and crawled into bed still feeling chilled. She tried to sleep, but in the back of her mind she could still see the image of a coach on a lonely road, hear a scream of terror and then the silence that came from a grave. How this could possibly have anything to do with them still perplexed her as she dropped off into a restless sleep.
***
Percy Rathbourne stared down at the crumpled form of Lady Blanche Delande. He rubbed his bloodied hands distastefully on his breeches, mindless of the stain, just anxious to remove the stickiness from his hands. He continued to stare in fascination at Blanche’s body. She was dead. He had stabbed her through the heart. He was surprised how easy it had been, but then she had been so trusting until she had seen the gleaming blade and felt its coldness against her skin. Then she had given that horrible scream. Percy shook his head. He could still hear it ringing in his ears.
He continued unconsciously to rub his hands against his thighs as he pondered what to do next. He had led Blanche some distance from the road into the woods, despite her reluctance to enter them in the dark. If he just left her here and quietly walked back to the coach wher
e only his coachman awaited, then how would the man know that she wasn’t already in the coach? Then he would have him stop at some corner in town and pretend the lady had gotten out. He would never realize she had never gotten back in the coach.
Percy smiled in satisfaction, looking down at Blanche’s body dispassionately. “You didn’t really imagine that I would allow you to cheat Kate and me out of our inheritance, did you, Blanche?” he asked softly. “You were such a silly little fool to imagine that you would become mistress of Camareigh. Poor, foolish little Blanche,” he mocked, his hands still rubbing against his thighs as he tried to wipe them clean of her blood. “Lucien is finished. By the time he discovers you are gone, it will be too late for him to find another bride that the duchess will approve of, and Camareigh will be mine.”
He turned and without a backward glance at her body left the small clearing where he had murdered Blanche Delande. He made his way back to his coach waiting on the deserted road, a smile of anticipation on his face. Kate would be so proud of him. They had actually won against Lucien. He could hardly wait to see Lucien’s face when he found his fiancée and fortune had escaped his grasp. Poor Lucien, he chuckled, as he settled back against the cushions of the seat for the long ride back to London.
There is no love lost, sir.
—Miguel de Cervantes
Chapter 9
Sabrina was fastening a pearl earring into the lobe of her ear when Mary entered her room, her dress rustling as she moved forward.
“Mary,” Sabrina spoke to her reflection in the mirror. “Maybe the solution to our problem lies right here under this roof.”
“What do you mean, Rina?” Mary demanded nervously as she came up behind Sabrina. At the Duke of Granston’s invitation they were spending the weekend at his estate outside of London.
Sabrina turned around and stared up at Mary hopefully. “Why shouldn’t I marry the duke? It would solve all of our problems. We would be free from debt and worries. The marquis could be paid off. It is obvious that the duke is interested in us. You’ve seen the way he leers.”
“You can’t, Rina,” Mary answered. “Why, he’s horrid. He’s a drunken slob. Oh, Rina, please, don’t even consider it,” she begged.
Sabrina’s mouth tightened. “I really don’t think we’ve any other choice. I’ve tried to think of some way of getting enough money to satisfy the marquis, but it’s hopeless. I could begin robbing again, but it’s far too risky to do it at the rate I’d have to if I intended to get enough for the marquis. Besides, Will and John are out of it now, and I won’t get them involved in a personal problem. No, this is our easiest solution. How could I be so selfish to put my personal distastes over the needs of my family? If it means sacrificing myself to the Duke of Granston, then I will.”
Mary knew better than to argue when Sabrina had set her chin at that angle, so, shrugging, she told Sabrina the news she had heard.
“The Duke of Camareigh arrived a short while ago, Rina.”
“Here?” Sabrina demanded, shaken.
Mary nodded her head. “I’m afraid so.”
Sabrina felt her face grow flushed. Damn Lucien, she should have guessed that he would not leave her alone. What was he up to? He was here to cause trouble. When Mary had first said he was here her heart had leapt with anticipation at seeing him, yet she knew instinctively that he would try to destroy her. He was here to taunt her, to embarrass her, to be a constant reminder of their secret. He wanted revenge for having been duped by her. His pride was wounded, and that he could not forgive.
“I wonder what he’ll do.” Sabrina worried aloud.
“I don’t like him,” Mary said unhappily.
Like him? No, Sabrina thought, he wasn’t an especially likeable person, but she couldn’t seem to resist the attraction she felt for him, nor could she forget him. She despised herself for feeling such a weakness, but she just couldn’t help herself. But she would be careful and not let Lucien know that he had the power to disturb her. She would show him that he meant little or nothing to her. She would have Granston eating out of the palm of her hand before this weekend was over. She didn’t care if Lucien was getting married in a week. It was no concern of hers. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, what kind of woman Lucien would pick to marry. He must love her if he was marrying her. Maybe she would be with him now? Sabrina squashed the sudden pang of jealousy she felt for this unknown woman who had Lucien’s love, and jerked a satiny curl over her shoulder painfully. She didn’t like Lucien, nor did he like her. He was merely a girl’s first love and she would get over him soon enough.
Sabrina put her plans into action that evening as she sat next to the duke at the head of the table. She avoided Lucien’s grim face across the table from her as she played the coquette for a responsive Duke of Granston.
“You are so clever, your grace,” Sabrina flattered him, “do tell me that story again.” She leaned forward eagerly, the low, wide bodice of her rose-colored gown revealing to his eyes the alluring roundness of her breasts, barely covered by the delicate wisp of lace tucked into the deep vee between them. She smiled up at Granston, her dimple attracting his bloodshot eyes to her soft mouth.
He reached out and caught her small hand in his fleshy one, his thumb tracing a pattern around her wrist. “How dare Wrainton keep you hidden in the country all of these years,” he whispered hoarsely into her small pink ear, managing to touch his lips to a soft curl.
Sabrina pulled back, masking her repulsion at the touch of his lips with a pouting smile as she flirted with him. “Papa always said that the fruit was sweeter that had been left to ripen under the caress of the summer sun.”
The Duke gave a roar of laughter and Sabrina glanced up and into the glinting eyes of Lucien, glaring at her across the table. As he continued to stare at her his mouth gradually curved into a smile that caused a shudder of apprehension to flicker along Sabrina’s spine.
“Of course, one shouldn’t allow the fruit to stay on the tree too long,” Lucien commented, “or someone might be tempted to steal a piece and take a bite out of it.”
The Duke of Granston laughed appreciatively. “Never at a loss for words, eh, Lucien? Wish you’d be my guest more often.”
Sabrina looked down at her plate, the only one who realized the threat behind his casual words. She looked over at the marquis and contessa who were exchanging contented glances as they watched Sabrina charm their host. They were already counting their money, she thought in disgust. Sabrina tried to catch Mary’s eye, but she was staring in fascination at Lucien, a small pulse beating visibly in her temple.
Following custom the women left the men to their port and smoking, while they retreated to the salon for gossip.
“I am glad to see you are the sensible one, Sabrina,” the contessa remarked. “The Duke is enamored of you, it is plain to see,” she paused, “however, it is this other one, the scarred one, who has me intrigued.. He has some interest in you, of course, he is attracted to you; but he seems to be angry, and there is hate in his eyes as he stares at you, little one. Why should this be?”
Sabrina’s face whitened. “I hardly know the gentleman. Why he should dislike me I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Ah, I did not say dislike. I said hate, which is far stronger, and involves the heart. It is said that you must hate a little in order to feel the strongest emotion of love.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sabrina denied faintly. “Besides, he is to wed next week. Surely he is in love with this woman?”
The contessa smiled cynically. “I doubt it. You see he must marry the woman his nonna, the duchess, has chosen if he is to inherit his estate. They have had the argument about this for many years, it is said, so he finally gives in.”
Sabrina stared in amazement at the contessa. “So, he doesn’t love this woman. He’s being forced into marriage against his will.” Sabrina couldn’t
resist a smile of satisfaction at Lucien’s predicament. In her misery she welcomed company, glad that she was not the only one being forced against her wishes to do something.
Mary came into Sabrina’s bedchamber as she was preparing for bed later that evening, her face mirroring her doubts. She took the brush from Sabrina’s slim hand and began to brush the long black hair in even strokes down her back.
“I think you are asking for trouble, Rina,” Mary said after a moment’s silence. She saw Sabrina’s shoulders stiffen, but continued to brush the fine hair. “I won’t harangue you, Rina, because I know that you’ve all of our interests at heart, but I don’t think it will work out. I don’t want to see you disappointed, or,” she hesitated, her voice breaking as she continued slowly, “involve yourself with someone that you despise. I know you can’t bear to have the duke touch you. He may be our host, but I think he’s despicable.”
Sabrina stood up, looking touchingly young in her long white nightgown with her dark hair hanging loose to her hips.
“I saw you looking strangely at Lucien this evening, and I wondered if you’d seen something, Mary. Please tell me,” Sabrina pleaded almost desperately. “I need so much help in what I’m doing. I have to know if he is going to interfere.”
“Do you know what I saw? I saw you and Lucien together, laughing and,” Mary gave a self-conscious laugh, “kissing under a big tree. How can that be, Rina?”
“It can’t be,” Sabrina answered angrily, her cheeks flushed. “You are completely wrong this time, Mary,” she said scornfully. “I think your gift must have left you and you are merely dreaming now.”
Mary bent her head, hurt by Sabrina’s harsh words. Sabrina ran across to her, regretting her outburst, and put her arms around her. “I’m sorry, Mary, forgive me? I always speak before I think, and you know I wouldn’t hurt you for anything. Please, forgive?”
Mary smiled half-heartedly. “I forgive you, but I want to go home, Rina. I don’t want to be paraded around anymore. I long so much for the quiet of Verrick House and Aunt Margaret’s vague comments, and I’m worrying about Richard, there by himself and feeling bold with his new glasses.”
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