by Liana Lefey
“But you don’t want a gentleman, not really,” murmured Montgomery, his breath stirring the hair at her temple.
The desire she’d been so carefully keeping at bay broke loose to flood her with disturbing sensation.
“And you should be very interested in whether or not your future husband cares for you,” he continued, nuzzling her neck. “I think you are—only you’re too stubborn to admit it to yourself.”
She turned away, but the action only served to expose more of her neck to his predations. There in the darkness, his warm lips gently caressed her flesh. Her whole body screamed at her to meet them and kiss away the terrible ache. Instead she shut her eyes tight, resisting the urge, while at the same time prolonging the pleasure of his touch.
When she at last opened them, her gaze fell by chance on Fairford’s box. Fairford was watching the scene below, looking bored. Miss Bidewell, however, was not. The girl’s eyes were focused directly on her.
Sabrina elbowed Montgomery firmly in the ribs. “Stop that at once!” she commanded softly, squirming away.
He chuckled, a low, intimate sound meant only for her ears. The deep rumble melted into her bones. “I don’t like the idea of you visiting any garden but mine, Sabrina. It puts me in a most disagreeable mood.”
She froze, pleasure sweeping through her at his confession. She’d known he was jealous, but this was the first time he’d said so openly. The atmosphere suddenly felt charged, as before a lightning strike. On one level, such possessiveness was frightening. On another, it was completely exhilarating.
Reason quickly took over, cooling her excitement. What did it matter? She could not seriously consider him.
In direct opposition to all of her instincts, she deliberately stiffened and pulled away. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to be in a disagreeable mood for a very long time, my lord.”
“Don’t make me raise the stakes,” growled Montgomery, running a hand down her thigh. “I already told you, I won’t give up.” He gripped the material of her skirt, dragging the heavy velvet upward.
She grabbed his hand and tried to force it back down, but he was too strong. Slowly, he exposed her stockinged ankles, then her calves, and then her knees. Her nails dug into the back of his hand, but still he soldiered on.
“If you try to get up, I promise you that you’ll leave half your clothes behind,” he chuckled wickedly, caressing her now naked thigh.
She gasped as he grazed the moist, heated flesh at their juncture. Moaning softly as he parted her delicate folds, she closed her eyes, shutting out the world. Tingles radiated from the point where his hand made delicious contact with her body.
“You were made for me, Sabrina.”
Just as she drew near the breaking point, Montgomery withdrew, tugging her skirt back down.
Dazed, she turned to see his laughing, dark eyes. Emotions rioted in an aftershock of longing and disappointment—and rage.
He bent until they were nearly nose to nose. “If you are to visit any garden, Sabrina, let it be mine. I assure you the blooms are never so sweet anywhere else.”
His lips swept down in a light wisp of a kiss that, for all its brevity, managed to fuel the fire in her loins to a roaring conflagration. It was all she could do not to follow him when he suddenly rose and excused himself.
Her mother came through just as he pushed aside the drape. “Henry, where are you going?”
“Just visiting the gentlemen’s lounge for a pipe. I’ll be back soon.”
Sabrina was left with no choice but to fume in stony silence. Refusing to look at her mother for fear she would be unable to contain her ire at having been deliberately left alone with that man, she took up her opera glasses and pretended to focus on the scene below.
Her gaze soon strayed across the theater. With a start, she realized she was again being watched—only this time, it wasn’t by Miss Bidewell.
Fairford was staring right at her. Horror flooded through her as the corners of his mouth slowly curled and he cocked his head in acknowledgment. His expression made it plain that, despite the dim lighting, he knew or at least guessed at what had transpired.
Her gut twisted. What must he think of her? Raising her glasses again, she observed him carefully, looking for any sign of disapproval. But his smile only widened, further confusing her. Perhaps he hadn’t seen?
Her mother cleared her throat, making her jump. Sabrina kept her eyes on the stage for the remainder of the evening, ignoring Montgomery when he returned—and ignoring Fairford as well.
He hadn’t seen anything. Surely he hadn’t. And if he had, then apparently her behavior had not displeased him. Quite the contrary, if his smile was any indication.
That thought disturbed her more than a little. She’d heard of men who enjoyed sharing their women. He hadn’t struck her as the sort, but then again…
No. She had to assume that he had simply not seen anything. Therefore, she must continue with her plan. He’d professed a love of winning. Therefore, she must continue to present a challenge. But how?
Montgomery was too dangerous to use as a foil to draw him out. The risk of becoming the victim of her own trap was too great. No. She had to find someone else. With him sitting beside her, however, it was impossible for her to think of any candidates for the job.
His clean scent assaulted her with every breath. Soap. Leather. Boot polish. Him.
Strategizing would have to wait until her mind—and body—settled down. It was with immense relief that she at last applauded the singers.
As they waited for their carriage, she spotted a familiar shock of ginger hair amid the crowd and smiled to herself. At Chadwick’s side was a lovely, sweet-faced young lady who looked positively aglow with adoration.
By chance, he happened to glance up at that same moment.
Sabrina nodded her approval, and his lips parted in a familiar grin. Gladness filled her heart. Good for him! Quickly, she turned away lest his companion notice her and become upset.
And there was Montgomery, staring at her with a most knowing expression.
Her gaze dropped before he could read her thoughts in that uncanny manner of his. How she wished he would just go away. Her conscience pricked her sharply for the dishonest thought. The truth of the matter was that she wished he would snatch her up in his arms.
All the way home, the memory of his touch haunted her, and with it, a craving for more. Her mother nattered on endlessly about trivial things until she thought she would go mad. And he, he responded just as easily as if he hadn’t had his hand on, on her—where it didn’t belong, less than an hour before.
It was unjust in the extreme that he should even be able to speak coherently, while she herself was a bundle of raw nerves. She excused herself the moment they arrived, claiming exhaustion.
Montgomery caught her as she passed. “Pleasant dreams, Pest.”
She shot him a murderous glare. He knew bloody well he’d condemned her to a night of torment. Again, she wanted to strangle him with her bare hands. If she could only manage to do so without touching him.
HENRY DRUMMED HIS fingertips on the desk, agitated.
“You’re certain it was him?”
“Yes, my lord,” answered the man. “I was assigned to watch Childers’s residence. He visits her almost daily, straight there and back—or so we thought. I suppose someone didn’t do their job properly this time, because the curtains weren’t drawn when his carriage left, and I could see the vehicle was empty. So I went back and hid ’round the carriage house where I could see everything. Half an hour after his own carriage had left, I watched Fairford get into another unmarked carriage. I followed it to Boucher’s and saw him get out and go in. He was wearing a mask, but it was him. He had the same pale-blond hair.”
Hell. A wave of acute distaste washed over Henry. He looked at Percy and marked that he seemed to find the news just as disturbing.
Had it been an ordinary brothel, he would not be so alarmed, but the nature of th
e services provided at Madam Boucher’s were legendary. That particular establishment catered to the worst sort of debauchers, and the things that happened behind those doors defied all morality, not to mention several laws.
“Do you want me to keep watching him, my lord?”
“Yes,” Henry answered. “I want to know how often he frequents that establishment. And if anything else turns up, you are to let me know immediately.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You may go now,” said Percy, opening the door.
“If Fairford has been keeping an unmarked carriage at Mrs. Childers’s so that he can send his own back empty and then later depart in the other one, that means he knows he’s being watched,” Henry said softly after the door closed.
“Not necessarily,” said Percy. He went to the tray and took up a decanter of brandy, poured two large glasses, and brought one to him. “It may just be that he doesn’t wish all of London to know the details of his personal affairs. After all, it is Boucher’s. I wonder if it is as bad as they say.”
“It is far worse, I can assure you. Have you never been there?”
“What sort of man do you think I am?” asked Percy with a snort of disgust. “I may be jaded, old friend, but I’m not one of that sort. But you sound as though you’ve experienced the place firsthand.” He sat down and lifted an expectant brow.
“Yes. I’ve been there. Once. I was invited along once by one of my fellows at university.” Being young and randy, he’d accepted on a lark, thinking it a grand adventure. But what he saw and heard there had sickened him. In the end, he’d paid the poor girl selected for him without utilizing her services and had never returned. In fact, the experience had put him off brothels entirely.
“You look as if you need another drink,” said Percy, topping off his glass for him.
“Thanks,” he answered, downing the liquor.
Boucher’s was the most infamous whorehouse in all of London. For a price, the proprietress offered her clientele a variety of forbidden perversions—and the security of complete confidentiality. Anyone wishing to enter the premises had to be an established client or personally escorted by one, and patrons often wore masks to protect their identity.
It was a miracle Fairford had been caught.
“What is the plan now?” asked Percy. “Nothing of your French intrigue seems to have turned up—I don’t suppose the king will care that the man is frequenting a whorehouse?”
Henry coughed and cleared his throat. “For the time being, we wait for more information—and make certain he doesn’t make any progress with Sabrina. Now that we know where he’s been spending his time, it is vital that his suit fails.”
“My, my, how the delinquent have reformed,” teased his friend. “What is it about this woman that has you suddenly donning a halo and wings?”
“I told you, I wish to protect her. Her mother and mine were close friends, and I’ve known her since she was a child.”
“Is that your only justification?” asked Percy with a piercing gaze. “She certainly isn’t a child now. Surely she can—”
“It’s all the justification I need,” Henry cut in, fixing him with a hard stare. “She has no father to look out for her, and Fairford has recently informed me of his intent to court her. I cannot in good conscience allow her to marry him if he frequents that place.”
A shrug lifted his friend’s shoulders. “Very well, if you say so. I take it this means the rumors of your pursuit of her are greatly exaggerated?”
“She continues to hold a grudge against me for my having courted her sister Eugenia, who was in love with someone else at the time. I was perceived as an enemy to her sibling’s happiness,” Henry told him, hoping to close the subject. “She hated me so much that she once put a live serpent in my pocket.”
Percy’s brows rose in surprise, and he burst into laughter. “I like her! Tell me more about this virago.”
Relieved to be back on safer ground, Henry gladly obliged. God knew he had enough Sabrina stories to keep his friend laughing for at least a solid hour. Hopefully, Percy would forget his astute suspicions and let the matter of his motivations for seeking to discredit Fairford lie unexplored.
It was purely out of desperation that Sabrina finally decided to confront Montgomery. If Fairford was ignoring her in favor of Miss Bidewell, it could only be due to his interference. At the Wilbourne picnic, she worked up her courage and asked Montgomery to escort her to the pond to see the swans.
“I’ve asked you repeatedly to leave me alone,” she said once they were out of earshot. “I’m asking you one final time to stop harassing me.”
His lips twisted. “You’d do well to rethink your decision to bag Fairford. Whatever his interest in you, I can guarantee it isn’t to your good.”
“And yours is? You’ve all but driven me to Bedlam!”
“Such was not my inten—”
She rounded on him. “Your intentions seem to be misplaced frequently. Why are you doing this to me?” she asked. “Why can you not simply leave me in peace?”
“Because I have no peace without you.”
The softly spoken words stopped her in her tracks. A surge of desire rocketed through her.
No. To give in would be to lose herself.
“You have deluded yourself into believing you love me,” she said at last. “But the truth, if you will only admit it, is that you are”—she took a deep breath and admitted it—“we are attracted to one another. That is all. And attraction is the last thing one should base a marriage upon.”
“You are indeed lovely,” he agreed, the corner of his mouth lifting a little. “But that isn’t what draws me to you. It’s what’s inside you. I know the real Sabrina you try so hard to hide. You’ve shown her to me, whether or not such was your intent.”
“When?” she squeaked.
“Your dealings with Chadwick have been most telling. I know you never intended to hurt him. I know you feel terrible for having done so. I could see it in your face that night at my sister’s party.”
“You are correct in that I regret my part in his pain,” she replied. “But none of that would have happened had you done as I have repeatedly asked.”
“You blame me for his heartbreak? I was not the one who used him as a convenient means of escape. I was not the one who encouraged him to think he had a real chance with you. And I certainly was not the one kissing him in the garden that morning.”
“You know why I—” Horrified, she clamped her mouth shut.
He took a step closer. “Yes, Sabrina. I know exactly why you did it. And I know why you run from me at every turn.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “But I am not like him.”
What she saw in his eyes made her quake inside and out. She backed away. “I said far too much that night. I made the mistake of being honest with you, of hoping that you would have the decency to—”
“Hallo! I say, Lady Sabrina!”
The jovial greeting startled her, and she turned to see Lord Fairford striding toward them across the lawn.
Montgomery frowned as he drew near. “What are you doing here?”
Ignoring his rudeness, Fairford smiled. “Like you, I received an invitation to the event. I would have arrived sooner, but I was detained by a business matter.”
Again, Sabrina noted that his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is Miss Bidewell not with you today?” she inquired politely.
“I’m afraid I’ve had to come on my own, as she is indisposed. A shame, really. Such a perfect day for a picnic. Couldn’t ask for better. But I’m glad to see you out and about.” His smile changed to a look of reproach. “I cannot tell you how disappointed I’ve been over the fact that you’ve yet to visit Wollaton Park, my lady. I do recall inviting you.”
Such was the awkwardness of the moment with the two men facing each other that she was at a loss for words. Her heart sank right down to the toes of her silk slippers. Montgomery would surely make some insinuating remar
k.
But he only stared at her inscrutably for a long moment before bowing. “If you will excuse me, I must find Sheffield. I promised him a game of bowls.”
She didn’t bother to disguise her shock as he turned and walked away, his step as jaunty as if he hadn’t a care in the world, as if he hadn’t just been rebuffed. The breeze carried back the fading strains of a cheerful melody—he was whistling!
Bewildered, she turned to her new companion.
“Shall we rejoin the festivities?” offered Fairford, holding out his arm.
MONTGOMERY DID NOT call the following day.
Nor the day after that.
For an entire week, there was nothing. No notes, no messages, no surprise visits.
Nothing.
Sabrina’s eyes sought him everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. Finally, she humbled herself enough to inquire of her mother.
“He’s gone to his estate to take care of some important business.”
“He has left London?”
Her mother smiled archly. “Interesting that you should ask after his whereabouts.”
“I merely wondered at his sudden absence. After all, he’s practically spent his every waking moment here until only recently. I’m surprised he didn’t start receiving his daily post at our address,” she said with all the sarcasm she could muster.
Fairford must have gotten wind of his rival’s seeming abdication as well, for she soon began receiving invitations to social gatherings from him.
And on the third day, gifts began arriving. The first was a book of French poetry, the second a quarter-scale, hand-carved, ivory-and-onyx chess set. Nestled in a carved mahogany case inlaid with pearl and precious stones, it was a present worthy of royalty. For traveling, the accompanying note said.
At her mother’s insistence, the gifts, along with polite regrets, were returned. An invitation to a garden party to be held in three days’ time at Wollaton Park, however, was deemed acceptable.