Lucien smiled. “I can try.”
Sabrina’s eyes widened in momentary fear at the implied threat in his words. “It won’t be easy,” she warned him.
“I never imagined marriage to you would be easy, Sabrina. I could have told you that the first time I saw you swaggering my way.”
“You should have taken heed of your warning, Lucien, for you’ve taken on more then you bargained for.”
“Quite, but then I’ve always enjoyed a good fight, Sabrina,” Lucien answered smoothly, “which reminds me, we’ve an invitation to Berkeley Square. My grandmother wishes to meet my blushing bride, so we’ll be leaving for London in the morning. Maybe it’s just as well we’re to be amongst people, or I might be tempted to teach you a few lessons.”
A few days later in London, Sabrina met Lucien’s grandmother, the dowager duchess. Sabrina dressed for the occasion with special care, wearing a midnight-blue sacque gown, the pleats in back flowing free and disguising her thickening waistline. It was embroidered across the bodice in gold, with three lacy white flounces below the tight sleeves that matched her petticoat. Wrapped in a matching blue velvet cloak, as the days were cooler now that autumn had arrived, Sabrina sat nervously in the salon waiting for the majordomo to announce them, glancing curiously at Lucien’s unconcerned figure every so often, intrigued by the slight smile on his lips as he played with a deck of cards.
“I hardly think you’ve time for that,” Sabrina commented as she watched him shuffle expertly.
Lucien looked up in boredom. “You think not?”
Twenty minutes later they still remained in the salon. Lucien glanced up in amusement as Sabrina sighed in annoyance. “You will become used to Grandmère’s little games, Sabrina. You must learn patience.”
Sabrina glowered at him. “You obviously take after her.”
Lucien laughed. “Actually, I was just thinking how alike the two of you are. I think this shall be a very interesting meeting.”
He was wrong, Sabrina thought later as she sat facing the dowager duchess. She was not the ogre she’d imagined, whose jeweled hands had held the reins on Lucien for so long, and who was still hesitant to release him.
“So, you are the new duchess of Camareigh? You seem a bit small to hold such a powerful and esteemed position, child,” the dowager duchess commented.
“Have you not learned, your grace, that size is not indicative of strength?” Sabrina returned boldly, her violet eyes challenging the faded sherry eyes so like Lucien’s.
The dowager duchess sat silently for a moment, then chuckled in satisfaction. “Indeed, child, and it would seem you make up for your lack of size with spirit.”
She looked at the smiling Lucien archly. “How did you catch her, my boy? For unless my eyes are failing me, she’s been looking daggers at you since you came in here.”
“You left me little choice in the matter, Grandmère, so as I was short of time, I saw to it that her reputation was ruined, and no one but me to wed her,” he explained audaciously, while Sabrina seethed inwardly at his mocking face.
“I do not know whether to believe you or not, but knowing your reputation I would not doubt it. However, it bodes ill for any future heirs if you are hardly on speaking terms.”
“Oh, I do not think you need fear that, Grandmère, for we have not always been at each other’s throats,” he reassured her as Sabrina blushed scarlet and shot a murderous look at Lucien’s cool profile.
The dowager duchess. looked between the two in amazement, her eyes glowing with pleasure. “I knew I could place my faith in you, Lucien. You may be obstinate, but you’ve never let me down.” She gazed at Sabrina’s set features with pleasure. “You will give us an heir, and so soon? I feared of dying before I saw Camareigh’s future secured. How I’ve longed to be the dowager duchess once again.”
“I could always have a daughter,” Sabrina replied firmly.
Lucien laughed at his grandmother’s surprised expression. “And she most probably shall. Never have I met such an obstinate chit as Sabrina.”
“I can see you shall have your hands full managing your duchess, Lucien, for once she has defied you and gotten away with it, you will never have complete control of her again—unless she wishes it, of course,” the dowager duchess advised with a glint in her eye.
“Defy me?” Lucien asked incredulously, giving Sabrina a sardonic glance. “She wouldn’t think of doing such a thing, would you, Sabrina, my love?”
Sabrina clenched her hands beneath the folds of her gown. “Think of defying you, Lucien,” she said with a sweet smile. “Why, I’ve never given it a thought—I just do it.”
Lucien held up his hands in surrender. “You see, Grandmère, I haven’t a chance.”
The dowager duchess nodded her head wisely. “You may not believe it now, for obviously the angers are still burning hotly, but some day this will be a good marriage. You take my word for it. You both have spirit and passionate natures, but my only worry is that you will kill each other off first. Please don’t, at least not until after the birth of my great-grandson.”
“Never fear, Grandmère, Sabrina is a survivor. She may look delicate and demure, but don’t let her refined demeanor fool you, she’s as tough as leather beneath her velvet and lace.”
The dowager duchess. smiled, thoroughly enjoying herself. “So, you will stay to tea, and then you may leave,” she ordered as she rang for the majordomo.
Lucien leaned close to Sabrina. “You have been approved of and should feel complimented. Grandmère seldom if ever invites someone to stay for tea. Even I have been seldom honored with the privilege,” Lucien murmured.
“That is because you have seldom pleased me,” the dowager duchess retorted, catching his words, “but you have now, by making this little one your wife and making me a great-grandmother.”
“It was my pleasure, Grandmère,” Lucien said softly, his eyes lingering on Sabrina’s parted mouth.
“’Tis strange, isn’t it,” the dowager duchess said, suddenly remembering the letter she had received yesterday, “about Percy and his family—and Kate—leaving London in the middle of the night like thieves and disappearing somewhere on the Continent? It’s quite extraordinary.” She looked to Lucien questioningly. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it?”
Lucien rubbed his scar absently as he sought an answer. “No, Percy and I were never too close, Grandmère, so I really know nothing of his affairs, except that he has sold all of his holdings, including their London house. It would seem as though they intended a prolonged stay on the Continent.”
“Most strange, indeed. However, I imagine when you inherited Camareigh and Percy and Kate knew there was no longer any hope of inheriting, they decided a change of scene would be best. I know they would find your good fortune hard to bear.”
“I suppose you are right, Grandmère,” Lucien replied.
The dowager duchess tapped her cane thoughtfully. “What really has me puzzled, however, is this letter that I received. It is from Percy’s wife, Lady Anne, and it would seem as though she has taken command of the whole family. The little mouse has at last found her voice. She says that Kate is quite ill, and never leaves her room, and that Percy drinks himself to sleep each night. I am completely baffled by the whole situation,” the dowager duchess confessed with a frown.
Lucien remained silent, sipping his tea and giving a prolonged study to the plate of cakes before selecting one. Sabrina saw the twitch of his scar and knew from past experience that he was disturbed by something, but he obviously preferred to keep it to himself, for when he glanced up his face was free of expression.
Other memories came flooding back to Sabrina as she thought of the time Lucien had entered her bedchamber while she was dressing, only to find it crowded with people. Chairs and tables had been crowded with bolts of colorful silks and velvets, partially unwound fo
r her inspection by eager dressmakers, while her hairdresser combed her hair into curls, and musicians strummed a melancholy tune in the corner. Her dancing master was impatiently waiting his turn for her undivided attention. Several of her admirers had breakfasted with her and were now volunteering suggestions as to which gown would be most becoming to her dark coloring.
Sabrina had watched as Lucien had retreated from the noisy group, feeling somehow at a loss when his broad shoulders had disappeared through the door, leaving her surrounded by the gossiping ladies and beaux who had become her retinue. She didn’t really like any of them. In fact, she rather despised the lot of them, and had only associated with their wild set to annoy Lucien. But he never seemed to become perturbed at anything she did. She sometimes thought that he mustn’t care, and then she would catch a glint in the sherry eyes as he watched her at some antic, and would sense that he was keeping himself under control with an effort. Sometimes she almost wished that he would lose his temper. She wanted some reaction from him, and that was why she had been driven into acting the way she had and had received the reaction from Lucien she had sought—only she had not counted on it being quite so violent.
They had been invited to a masquerade ball and Sabrina had excitedly planned her costume as a Greek goddess, the draped material of her dress barely covering her, leaving her arms bare and clinging to her body with every movement. She had smiled with satisfaction when she had seen Lucien’s expression as she had entered the salon, his eyes narrowing with anger as she stood boldly before him, her bare toes in their gold sandals peeking out at him.
“You might as well return to your room, madam, for you are not leaving this house dressed in that manner,” he ordered her coldly.
“You think not?” Sabrina defied him, her violet eyes glowing.
“Yes, Sabrina, I do,” Lucien answered softly, looking austere in his black velvet suit, preferring to wear only a domino as a disguise for the masquerade.
“You have never objected before, why now?” Sabrina demanded.
“Because you are my wife, the Duchess of Camareigh, and I will not have you disgrace your position,” he answered haughtily.
Sabrina’s cheeks flushed with anger. “Oh, yes, I must never forget the high position in society that I occupy, nor disgrace the Dominick name,” she responded.
Lucien remained silent for an endless moment, seeming more ducal than ever before. “I will give you ten minutes to change into something else, Sabrina,” he warned, and with that ultimatum turned his back on her.
Sabrina ran from the room tearfully and hurried up the grand staircase, slamming the door of her room behind her. She stood indecisively as she tried to calm down. Lucien would not ruin her evening, she decided with a devilish glint in her eye as a sudden thought struck her, and she searched through her drawers until she found what she was looking for.
Fifteen minutes later Sabrina raced into the salon afraid that Lucien would have left. He was gazing into the fire when she entered. “Shall we go?” she asked breathlessly.
Lucien looked up at the sound of her voice, catching his breath as he stared at Sabrina’s masked face. “So, Bonnie Charlie has decided on one last appearance?” he commented smoothly, a gleam of reluctant appreciation in his eyes as he took in her breeches and boots and the sword hanging from her waist. “Very well, Sabrina, you will go to the masquerade in breeches. You will, no doubt, be the darling of the evening. I just hope none of your victims happen to be in attendance as well.”
He had been right, of course, for she had caused a sensation that evening when it had been revealed that the small gentleman in velvet breeches was the Duchess of Camareigh.
Soon, however, the partying and excitement of London began to bore her, and as she advanced in her pregnancy, her social activities were brought to a close. Sabrina left London without regret to return to the tranquility of Camareigh to await the birth of her child. She had been surprised and hurt, although she did not show it, when Lucien allowed her to return to the country alone.
“I’m certain, as my presence seems to annoy and distress you, that you will be relieved to learn that I will not be accompanying you to Camareigh,” Lucien had told her, his sherry eyes narrowed as he watched her reaction to his sudden decision.
But Sabrina was well used to hiding her true feelings and managed a nonchalant shrug. “As you wish, and I appreciate your consideration. For once you seem to be aware of my feelings,” she had responded, appearing to be relieved.
She had tried to assure herself that she truly was glad that Lucien would not be at Camareigh, but on the long coach ride she couldn’t stop wondering what he was doing in London. She sighed in self-disgust, not knowing what she wanted. Her pride and anger still blocked her desires, for each time she looked at Lucien she felt her pulse quicken and had to admit that he still attracted her.
En route to Camareigh she had stopped at Verrick House to pick up the anxiously waiting Richard, whose new home would be with Sabrina, and also to attend Mary’s wedding. Sabrina had felt a stab of envy as she had watched Mary, looking exquisitely lovely in a gown of silver tissue with a train six yards long that Sabrina had had created especially for her in London, walk down the aisle with orange blossoms in her red hair, her gray eyes glowing mistily with love as she stared up at Terence Fletcher. Lucien had appeared suddenly the morning of the wedding saying he had stopped only to wish them well, and left just as abruptly following the ceremony without explanation or farewell.
While at Verrick House Sabrina had paid a visit to Mrs. Taylor, leaving her a basket of oranges and lemons from the orangery at Camareigh. It saddened her to sit in the little cottage and remember all of the other times she’d talked and laughed with Mrs. Taylor—only now it was different. She could feel Mrs. Taylor’s nervousness as she tried to entertain her, but conscious of Sabrina’s title she could not relax. John and Will hadn’t changed though, they were still the same joking friends as always, eager to see her and hear her news of London.
When she and Richard rode away from Verrick House she swallowed painfully, holding back the tears as her memories came flooding back to her.
The next months were spent quietly at Camareigh. The winter was cold and her figure that became rounder and heavier as the child grew within her kept them confined to the house. Lucien seldom visited, and when he did he seemed to Sabrina to spend all of his time with Richard hardly ever sparing a glance for her, and she supposed he must be repulsed by her misshapen form.
When Christmas arrived Mary and Terence did too, bringing Aunt Margaret, Hobbs, and the spaniels with them. Sabrina was amazed as she watched Lucien play the genial host, turning on the famous Dominick charm as he made their guests feel completely at home.
Sabrina caught herself thinking sometimes how their lives might have been had not all of the misunderstandings stood in the way. To have Lucien truly love her and care for her as he had when she had lost her memory. Only then it had just been a game with him, and now that he had what he wanted, both estate and heir, he was no longer interested in her.
Finally, as the long winter came to an end and the skies began to clear and show patches of blue, Sabrina knew that her time was near. She had felt for some time the amazing movements of the baby. She had given a startled gasp of surprise the first time it had happened, and placing a tender hand on her abdomen she had experienced it again. She had looked up, her eyes glowing, only to surprise a look of longing on Lucien’s face as he’d watched her. It had been quickly masked as he looked at her inquiringly.
Rhea Claire Dominick was born early in the morning, her lusty cry of surprise as she entered the world bringing a grateful smile of relief to Mary as she placed the child in Sabrina’s arms.
“So,” Lucien had said softly as he’d stared down at his wife and daughter, “you are defiant as ever, Sabrina.”
Sabrina looked up with exhausted eyes, the glow in his
giving her strength to reply. “I always shall be.”
By May Sabrina was back to her normal activities, but she had no desire to return to London and the life she had been leading before the birth of Rhea.
The dowager duchess had made a rare visit to Camareigh to see her great-granddaughter despite her attitude of disappointment that it had not been a boy. She had showered gifts on the child and even held the tiny infant in her arms, her disapproving frown fading as Rhea chuckled up at her with her violet eyes. The dowager duchess had left, but with the admonition, “Next time I shall expect a boy.”
Sabrina had smiled slightly, avoiding Lucien’s eyes, unwilling to tell her that there would not be a next time.
It had not been of her own doing that the final break between them occurred. In honor of his daughter’s birth Lucien decided to have a ball, the first at Camareigh in many years. Guests arrived throughout the day and crowded into the salons and gardens under the warm sunshine. Many were her friends from London, but most were Lucien’s. Sabrina found she liked Sir Jeremy Winters and his wife, and a few others, but the majority were of a rakish set and she resented their presence at Camareigh. She wanted to spend her time with Rhea and with Lucien, who since Rhea’s birth had spent a great deal of time at Camareigh.
Sabrina had been surprised to see the Duke of Granston amongst the guests, but she supposed it would’ve been an insult to him not to have invited him. She was thankful now that Lucien had ruined her chances of marriage to him. He was quite as repulsive as ever, and surprised her by lingering at her side throughout the evening. Every so often she caught his pale eyes following her and shivered at the lecherous expression in them that he did not bother to conceal. The Duke of Granston had drunk too much as usual, becoming unruly shortly after two, and had to be led away by two sturdy footmen, so Sabrina had been surprised the following morning to find him beside her as she entered a belt of woodland on the estate. She slowed her horse as he crowded close, cutting across her path, his horse barring the way.
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