Mary avoided his eyes and pulled her hand free, walking over to the bellpull to ring for tea.
“I’ve already ordered it,” Sabrina told her as she took a seat opposite Mary, her violet eyes questioning as she stared at her.
They remained silent while the tea service was set up by a footman, and then as Mary busied herself thankfully with the teacups, the colonel said in a stern voice, “You should be turned over someone’s knee and soundly spanked, Lady Sabrina.”
Mary muttered beneath her breath as she spilled the tea, concentrating on it rather than look up at Sabrina, whom she knew would be glaring angrily at Colonel Fletcher.
“And you think you are man enough to do that, Colonel?” Sabrina demanded contemptuously.
“I’m man enough, but not the right man to do it,” he answered back obliquely, smiling unpityingly at the thought.
“The day some man tries will be his last day on earth.” Sabrina smiled unpleasantly, her eyes telling the colonel that she wished he would be the one to try.
Colonel Fletcher shook his head. “You have ruled this roost far too long, Lady Sabrina. It is time a man stepped in and took the lot of you under his guidance.”
“And who would you suggest? The marquis? I’m sure he would appreciate that, since he has hardly played the father figure before.” Sabrina sat down, accepting her tea and sipping it nonchalantly. “Let me see,” she continued ruminatively, “he saw his son and heir for the first time a little over a week ago. And when did he last see us? Ten years ago? Yes, he is definitely the hand to guide us. All he cares about is money to fill his pockets. You think you have a chance to court my sister Mary? Oh, yes, I know you have probably made advances to her, and assuming they are honorable, do you really imagine you’ve enough money to buy her?”
Colonel Fletcher winced at the remark.
“Yes, you may well flinch. But that is the distasteful state of affairs we exist in. We, my sister and I, are commodities to the marquis. Since having set eyes on us he regards us in the light of assets. He will find the richest husbands for us, and I don’t really think that your officer’s pay will qualify you, Colonel.”
“So young to be so bitter. If I did not know more about you than most, then I would not understand, nor be able to feel pity for you.”
“I don’t want your pity,” Sabrina replied, her voice trembling. “I don’t need it. We don’t need you. Why don’t you leave us alone?”
“Rina,” Mary cautioned anxiously.
“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for him? You can’t have. We don’t need him, Mary. He’ll try to take you away.”
“You can’t live in this fairyland of yours any longer, Lady Sabrina. Don’t you realize how lucky you are that it is me you have to deal with? Don’t try so hard to hate me. Trust me. I can help you, all of you,” he tried to placate her.
Sabrina wanted to believe him, but all the years of mistrust and the memory of him at Culloden came flooding back to her, clouding her thoughts. And yet, maybe it was time to trust someone, maybe him. Sabrina stood up and taking a tentative step toward him she was about to speak, when the door was opened and Sims announced Lord Malton and Lord Newley.
They hurried in, expressions of excitement on their faces as they greeted Sabrina and Mary, hardly noticing the colonel.
“My dear, dear Lady Sabrina,” Lord Malton beamed coyly, “you never let on, we had no idea that you and the duke, why, it is remarkable, and, my dear, you have taken us all by surprise, yes indeed. I am agog at the news, even Newley here is struck dumb. Never been so dazzled,” Lord Malton babbled.
Sabrina felt the blood draining from her face as she exchanged looks with a stunned-looking Mary. Colonel Fletcher found his voice first, impatience in it at the ill-timed interruption.
“May I inquire as to what you are referring, Malton?”
Lord Malton chuckled. “The announcement of the upcoming marriage of Lady Sabrina Verrick, daughter of the Marquis of Wrainton, and the Duke of Camareigh, Lucien Dominick. The sly devil never said a word about it. In fact, I assumed he was to marry Lady Blanche Delande, but—” He cut himself off in mid-sentence looking apologetically at Sabrina. “I beg your pardon, Lady Sabrina. No sense in talking about past loves, eh? Very strange though, you must admit, the way she just disappeared. No one has seen her since and some even say she eloped with a penniless soldier,” Lord Malton confided in a theatrical whisper.
Colonel Fletcher stared at Sabrina’s pale face, her look of despair confirming the news. “It would seem that you were right about the marquis,” he said grimly. “I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting him; however, I intend to make his acquaintance.”
“Glad you’re here, Fletcher. Been wanting to ask you what you intend doing about that rogue, Bonnie Charlie. Thought you’d have caught the blackguard by now. We won’t stand for much more of this harassment by that Scots cur,” Malton threatened, his good humor forgotten for the moment. “Right, Newley?”
But Lord Newley wasn’t listening, he was staring morosely at Sabrina’s heart-shaped face, his eyes watching every expression that crossed her lovely features.
“Guess Newley’s got other things on his mind,” Lord Malton commented snidely, winking broadly at Colonel Fletcher. “He won’t be the only one sorry to have the Lady Sabrina wed. Hear she made a big sensation in London.”
“I think you need not concern yourselves over the problem of Bonnie Charlie much longer,” Colonel Fletcher said, changing the subject, “for I feel it will resolve itself very shortly.”
Lord Malton puffed out his cheeks and stamped his cane on the floor. “You know something, eh? Good. About time we ridded ourselves of this wretched fellow. Expect to be informed of your movements, Fletcher. Want to be in on the kill, damned if I don’t.”
Colonel Fletcher barely concealed his expression of distaste. How easily the civilian talked of killing. He wondered how eager he would be if he saw over a thousand mangled and dead bodies in one afternoon’s fighting.
“The ladies were just telling me how fatigued they were from the fair, and about an unfortunate scuffle that ensued on the grounds, so I think I’ll bid them adieu,” he suggested, glancing at the two lords expectantly, leaving them little choice but to follow suit.
“I had hoped to learn more about your engagement, Lady Sabrina,” said Lord Malton. “When the wedding will occur, and if you’ll be married in London? So much to tell, what with everyone so interested. I do know that the duke had only until this week to wed or he’d lose Camareigh. Wonder if that still applies.” He looked to Sabrina for enlightenment, but on receiving no encouragement on her ashen features, shrugged good-naturedly. “Well, must be off then.”
“If you’d be interested in learning about my plans for Bonnie Charlie, I suggest we make haste, I’ve an inspection to see to, gentlemen,” Colonel Fletcher spoke authoritatively, hurrying them on their way. Before leaving the room behind them he added, “I will be back to continue our discussion, ladies.”
Sabrina sat as though turned to stone, the only sound the monotonous ticking of the clock. She bent her head, hiding her face from view, her shoulders slumped in defeat. A muffled sob escaped from her and she slumped farther into herself as she huddled in the chair.
Mary quickly rushed over and knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around Sabrina’s shaking shoulders. She let her cry, her sobs racking her slim body as she drained herself of pent-up emotion.
“What am I going to do? I thought I would have more time, and I never imagined that they would go ahead and announce it without my presence. Once again I’ve underestimated Lucien. I had forgotten how cunning he can be.” Sabrina looked up tearfully. “Well, I will not do it. I will not be forced into marriage with him. I couldn’t bear it, not after the humiliation he put me through. I must do something. He’ll pay for this. He deserves to lose his estates and become the laughingstock when I
leave him at the altar as his previous fiancée did,” Sabrina threatened, her violet eyes glowing with anticipation of revenge.
Mary shook her head helplessly. “I don’t think you can prevent him. How can you stop the marriage now that everyone knows about it? Why not go ahead and marry him, Rina? It would settle everything, especially now that Colonel Fletcher knows about us. How can you continue to get money with him watching everything we are doing? I can’t see any way out of this.”
“I will not accept it,” Sabrina said stubbornly, her voice beginning to grow strong and hardening with resolution. “Mary, we have so much money already. If I can just get a little bit more, then I will personally take it to the marquis and he will leave us alone. Besides, if the duke cannot find me, then he has no bride to wed.”
Mary sat back on her heels, staring at Sabrina’s determined face. “I think Colonel Fletcher was right, we’ve been living in a make-believe world.”
“Mary,” Sabrina pleaded, her eyes mirroring hurt, “you can’t desert me now. I thought we were a family?” She bit her lip nervously. She just couldn’t lose Mary. “You aren’t turning against me, are you?”
“Of course not, Rina, how could you think such a thing,” Mary reassured her, worried by the almost feverish look in Sabrina’s eyes.
“Good.” Sabrina smiled, giving her a hug before rising to her feet. “We’ve got to make plans, Mary. Unless I am sorely deceived I would imagine we are in for a visit from either the marquis or Lucien, and I have no intention of being present when they do show up.”
Mary laughed shakily. “So I am to be the welcoming committee? I do not look forward to it. The Duke has struck me as being a very forceful man, and we both know only too well how he exacts punishment against those who cross him. He will be outraged if you make him the laughingstock of London as you have predicted, and then cause him to lose his estate.” Mary shuddered at the thought, touching her own soft cheek as she remembered his. “That scar makes him seem almost diabolical, it is quite dreadful.”
Sabrina turned on her indignantly. “There is nothing wrong with his scar. How dare you imply that it is ugly, or loathsome?” Sabrina said sharply, surprising herself by her sudden, passionate defense of him.
Mary’s gray eyes widened in surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it was repulsive at all. It just makes him look dangerous. That is all, Rina,” Mary explained gently.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve been such a trial to you, I know, but everything is on the edge of collapse, and I’m at my wits’ end. I’m meeting Will and John this evening, and I will figure out a plan. I won’t be able to stay here and still get out as Bonnie Charlie. They mustn’t be able to stop me.” She left the room, her stride purposeful and firm.
“‘O tiger’s heart wrapp’d in a woman’s hide!’” a voice said softly.
Mary spun around at the sound. “Aunt Margaret! Have you been here all of the time?”
Aunt Margaret left her seat in the bow window where she’d sat unobserved behind the folds of a velvet hanging. She tiptoed into the room, glancing about for anyone lurking nearby.
“I do so hate crowds of people, don’t you? Odd,” she said, “Malty hasn’t changed any since he was just a little boy, although he was always plump and always telling tales, too.”
Mary smiled at Aunt Margaret’s description of Lord Malton, then tried to explain to her the importance of not talking about the conversation she’d overheard.
“But, my dear, I keep the most divine secrets, really I do, besides, that is no secret,” she scoffed at Mary’s surprised face. She hugged her tapestry to her as she rocked to and fro, a complacent smile on her lips. “Now I know a real secret, but I mustn’t tell you, dear, at least not yet.”
Mary walked over to her and taking her by the shoulders held her wandering attention. “Now, Aunt Margaret, you will forget all that you heard between Sabrina and me, and you promise you won’t repeat it?”
Aunt Margaret shook her head conspiratorially, a sly look entering her blue eyes as she whispered, “My lips are sealed, m’dear.” She slipped from the room quietly, the spaniels a step behind and just as quiet. Mary closed her eyes. What more could happen?
She suddenly heard the sound of horse’s hooves and wondered who was calling so late in the afternoon. Surely Lord Malton would not have returned to quench his thirst for gossip? She walked over to the window and glanced out to see a solitary rider approaching the house at a deliberate gait, the big red horse kicking up dust as he made his way up the drive. The rider became visible as he passed by the window, and Mary drew back in panic as she recognized that arrogant face marred by the scar.
Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy,
And moonstruck madness.
—John Milton
Chapter 11
“Sabrina!” Mary called out as she hurried into Sabrina’s room. “He’s here.”
Sabrina glanced around curiously. “Who is here?” she asked, hiding a yawn behind her hand. She’d removed her gown and was lying in her petticoat and corset on the bed. She wriggled her stockinged feet lazily and stared at Mary’s flushed face.
“The Duke, Rina,” she told her clearly.
The drowsiness left Sabrina’s eyes abruptly, alarm spreading across her features. “Here?” she demanded.
“Yes. I just saw him ride up the drive. He is probably in the house this very instant demanding to see you.”
Sabrina swung her feet to the edge of the big bed and hopped down. “Well, he will not find me here.”
“Oh, but he already has,” a cool voice spoke from the door.
Mary gave a startled squeal and spun around like a hare caught in a trap. Sabrina turned slowly at the familiar voice. She was breathing rapidly, her breasts rising and falling beneath their thin covering of lace as she faced Lucien. She stiffened her back and, squaring her shoulders, said dismissively, “I think you mistake the room you are in, your grace. As you can see, I am dressing.”
Mary became aware of Sabrina’s dishabille and hurriedly fetched her a dressing gown, which Sabrina gratefully accepted and quickly slipped on. The dark purple velvet sleeves covered her bare arms while the fitted waist partially covered her lacey bodice. She’d released her hair from its knot and it now hung down her back and over her shoulder in a smooth dark cloud.
“No, I’ve made no mistake, Sabrina. Women often invite men into their bedchambers as they dress, and, after all, we are betrothed, aren’t we?” he asked softly as he left the doorway and intruded farther into the room. He wore buckskin breeches molded to his muscular thighs and a double-breasted frock coat. High jackboots reached his knees and were covered in a light coating of fine dust.
“I do not think the circumstances apply here,” Sabrina contradicted him, “and I have not invited you in, either.”
Mary glanced between them, afraid to move or make a sound. Lucien tossed his cocked hat and gloves onto a chair and turned his attention to the two women standing uncertainly before him.
“I can plainly see by the fear in your eyes, Lady Mary, that you have been given the worst details concerning me and you are concerned about having such an ogre for a brother-in-law. Of course, considering the company your sister keeps, you might have done far worse, say with a highwayman or pickpocket?”
Mary licked her dry lips, but before she could find a suitable reply, Sabrina answered abruptly.
“You may taunt me, Lucien, but not Mary. She is not up to your subtle sarcasms or cruel witticisms, nor does she deserve them.”
Lucien inclined his head slightly. “I bow to your greater knowledge of the lady, but as she is a relation of yours, as is the marquis, I doubt your wisdom to judge them. It would seem there are certain character traits that are unmistakable in this family.”
“How dare you come into my home and insult us, and how dare you make that ridiculous announcem
ent when you know that I will not marry you?”
Lucien’s mouth tightened ominously and his eyes narrowed as he held up his hand for silence. “I do not think we need an audience to play to.” He turned to Mary and indicated the door. “If you will be so kind, your sister and I have a few matters to discuss in private.”
Sabrina’s nostrils flared in anger. “You go too far, Lucien. How dare you—”
“I’ll dare anything, and unless you want to further embarrass and distress your sister by what I shall say, then I suggest you agree to our privacy.”
Sabrina glanced at Mary indecisively, unsure of what to do.
“I shall get Sims and the footmen, and have him thrown out!” Mary declared bravely.
Lucien laughed unpleasantly. “I doubt they would enjoy throwing a duke out of the door on his tail, assuming they could, of course. And also, as I have a letter of introduction from the marquis giving me complete authority over this household in his absence, I imagine they would think twice before executing such a plan.”
“You’ve complete authority,” Sabrina fumed. “You can take your authority to blazes for all the notice I’ll take of it.”
“Lady Mary,” Lucien said softly, placing a gentle, yet firm hand on her arm as he guided her to the door.
“Rina,” she began, looking over her shoulder in consternation.
“It’s all right, Mary, I’ll handle his grace. But don’t have a guest room prepared, for he shall not be staying.”
Lucien closed the door behind Mary and turned back to Sabrina, a glint in his sherry-colored eyes. “So, I will not be staying?”
“No, you will not,” Sabrina replied firmly, despite his approaching figure and menacing expression.
He came to a halt less than a foot before her and stared down into her violet eyes. “I do not enjoy being made the fool, which you seem fond of doing, nor do I like having my plans changed. I do not like having to chase across the countryside like some besotted fool in pursuit of his ladylove. You have caused me a great deal of inconvenience, Sabrina.”
Moonstruck Madness Page 25