But she hadn’t heeded that lesson, had she? When Brinsley came along, he’d seemed so open and easy and carefree, she’d been deceived into thinking she saw the whole man. She’d been flattered at the attention he paid her. Angry with her mother over her own imperfect character, she’d dismissed the countess’s warnings.
But Vane had raised an interesting question. Why hadn’t Papa put a stop to it? He could have, quite easily. He’d always been a hero to her. Oh, perhaps she might have tried to twist him around her finger and there might have been tears and recriminations when he refused, but she would have bowed to his judgment in the end. And been spared an enormous amount of heartache.
Heartache.
Yes.
She’d been deceived in Brinsley’s true character, but that man, the one she thought she’d married, was a man she’d been in love with. And even though he’d shown his true colors very soon after the ring was on her finger, she had not been able to stop.
Such a pity that the love hadn’t vanished with the illusion of the man.
She’d told herself it was infatuation, hadn’t she? The idle dreaming of a silly girl who had not yet been about much in the world. But she had never been a silly girl, not really. A little naïve, perhaps, but not silly.
She remembered Vane’s furious words when he’d confronted her in Peter Cole’s book room. How could she have allowed Brinsley to treat her so badly? And here, she supposed, was her answer.
She’d loved him. Not the sly, manipulative charmer he’d become in later years, but the young man who had walked with her through fields of spring flowers at Straghan, made her daisy chains, and told her his hopes and dreams. The young man who had gazed at her with worship in his eyes, or confessed a piece of mischief with a rueful grin. They had made each other laugh in those early days. Looking back with a less jaundiced eye, she saw that not all of his courtship had been false.
He had watched her with Vane outside the coffeehouse that fateful afternoon. Had she betrayed the strength of her feelings for anyone to see? Brinsley had cut at her viciously that night as he’d sent her to Vane. He’d accused her of being hard and unforgiving, of driving him to worse behavior after he’d made that first so-called mistake.
He was a hypocrite to have objected to any partiality she might have for another man, particularly one she’d never acted upon. But it didn’t mean he’d been happy to see her go. It didn’t mean he hadn’t, in his own twisted way, been jealous, furious at her for taking his bait. She could see, looking back, that perhaps that challenge had been a test. One she’d failed.
Her heart gave an agonizing twist. Yes, she’d loved Brinsley. Vane was right.
Painful sobs rose and gathered in her throat, choking her, making her mouth ugly and her nose stream and her eyes blur and smart. She tried to be strong, to hold it in. Why couldn’t this have come upon her in the night when she was private?
But there was no one but the blue sky and the birds in the hedgerows to see her now. And as the dappled light from the trees above raced over her upturned face, she let the agony and the sorrow flow out of her. She hugged herself and rocked with the coach and her grief, and mourned the girl she’d been, the man Brinsley had never become.
Twenty
SARAH put her elbows on the dressing table and rubbed her temples. She dug her fingertips into her scalp and massaged her aching head.
She’d done a lot of thinking in the past twenty-four hours. More than was good for her pride or her peace of mind.
Try as she might, she couldn’t easily recall how and when she’d fallen deeply in love with the youthful Brinsley. She accepted now that she had. Vane’s logic made inescapable, brutal sense. Like Vane’s own mother, she’d had the infernal bad judgment to fall in love with an absolute rotter of a man.
But she’d retold the sordid tale of her downfall to herself so many times, she’d lost all sense of perspective on the events surrounding their courtship. Vane had a more clear-sighted view, but he wasn’t there when it all began. She needed to discover the truth of that halcyon period before her marriage. She would have to swallow her tattered, battered pride and ask her mother how it all came about.
She wasn’t looking for anyone to blame. She’d always taken responsibility for her folly, though perhaps if she were a better person she wouldn’t have resented her mother so much for being right. A better person, she realized now, would have apologized to her mother for the accusations she’d flung in her face, asked for her help when life became too difficult to bear.
Well, it was too late to ask for help, but it wasn’t too late to apologize.
When Sarah arrived at her parents’ house, they were, unusually, both at home. She handed her bonnet to the butler and followed him to the sunny conservatory, her mother’s favorite room.
The earl looked up from his newspaper with an expression of dawning delight in his eyes that struck Sarah’s heart.
“My dear.” He rose and held out his arms to her. How wonderful it was to receive such a welcome. How wonderful to have someone in the world whose face lit when she walked in the door. Why had she turned her back on this?
“Papa.” She smiled, blinking back tears, and kissed him.
The countess rose. “I’ll leave you . . .”
“No, please don’t go.” Sarah slid from her father’s embrace and took the countess’s hands and kissed her cheek, whispering, “I’m sorry. Sorry for everything.”
The countess’s body, which had stiffened slightly as Sarah leaned in to kiss her, relaxed. She clung tightly to Sarah’s hands, and the expression in those sharp eyes was soft and moist. “She’s come back to us, Richard.”
“Yes.”
When they were seated, Sarah took a deep breath. “I want to talk to you about that summer when I first met Brinsley.”
Her parents exchanged a glance, but Sarah couldn’t tell what it signified.
Smoothing her skirts, she continued. “You know my marriage to Brinsley was not a happy one. Let’s not speak of that, it’s not why I’ve come. What I can’t reconcile is why I fell in love with him, why I married him. I’ve told myself it was infatuation, but it wasn’t, was it? It was love. That’s why you let me wed him.”
Her father’s skin paled in an instant to a sickly grey. “You don’t look well, Papa. Should I call for tea?”
He gave a quick shake of his head.
The countess said, “No, Sarah. Go on.”
In a rush, Sarah said, “I don’t understand why I didn’t see through him. I don’t understand how someone could be so rotten inside and act the part he did with me in those first few months of our acquaintance. I remember the conversations we had. I was convinced that he loved me. Later, when everything went wrong, I told myself I’d been infatuated. A silly girl beguiled by the easy charm of a personable man. But . . . I was never a silly girl, that I can recall.”
“No, you weren’t,” murmured the countess.
A fierce burn of pleasure at the compliment flared in her chest. “How could I have been so wrong?”
The countess watched her husband for a moment. When he didn’t speak, she said, “You weren’t wrong. Brinsley was in love with you, and as far as I could see, you were in love with him. I didn’t like it. You were too young. There was something about him. . . . Well, I should have done more to stop it, but . . .”
“But for me.” The earl’s low voice trembled. His eyes sought Sarah’s. “But for me.”
Sarah looked from her father to her mother and saw a large tear roll down the countess’s face. She dashed it away with the heel of her hand and gestured for the earl to continue. “Tell her. You must tell her now.”
The earl nodded. Hoarsely, he said, “Sarah, your godfa ther, Lord Templeton.” His mouth worked but he didn’t seem able to go on.
“Yes?”
“You know Brinsley was his secretary for a brief period.”
“Of course. It was how we met.”
“Yes. Of course,” her father
echoed. “Well, you perhaps know that Templeton has certain . . . inclinations.”
Her brow wrinkled. “He likes men, do you mean? I remember being shocked when I found out, but you explained to me that he was still the same . . .” Her eyes widened. She heard her mother sob and watched her press the earl’s hand in a gesture of comfort she’d rarely witnessed before.
Sarah felt hot and cold at once, her mind reeling with the implications of this disclosure. “Then you, Papa. And Lord Templeton—”
Her father nodded. “Yes, we have been intimate since before you were born.”
She stared at them both helplessly while she struggled to absorb this information. So many things made sense now. Her mother—how could she blame her mother for seeking love outside of such a marriage? All these years she had blamed her, despised her even, for betraying the earl. And all that time, he’d loved someone else. Another man.
“Just like Templeton, I am still the man I was before, Sarah. I am the father who loves you.” The cold grey eyes pleaded. “Please do not turn away from me.”
Sarah was so shocked, she couldn’t speak.
The countess, misinterpreting her silence, leaped to his defense. “Don’t you think that if he could have helped it, he would, Sarah? Do you think he wanted to risk everything he’d worked for, live with the threat of exposure and ruin but a breath away? Do you think he chose this life?”
“No, I don’t think that,” said Sarah quietly. “I don’t think that at all.”
Sarah moved to kneel before him. She took her father’s face in her hands and kissed him deliberately on the forehead. “You don’t stop loving someone simply because you discover they’re not quite the person you’d thought they were.”
His own eyes glistening, her father folded her close, his body trembling with suppressed emotion.
She gently broke their embrace and said, “Brinsley blackmailed you, didn’t he, Papa? He threatened to expose you if you didn’t let me marry him.”
The earl shook his head. “Not in so many words. It was never as clear-cut as an outright threat.”
Lady Straghan spoke. “He found an indiscreet letter among Templeton’s personal papers. He let us know that he knew. But Sarah, if I’d suspected for one moment you’d be condemned to the sort of marriage you endured all those years, I would have let Brinsley do his worst.”
The earl nodded. “There were any number of ways we could have handled the situation. But it seemed that you loved one another and nothing would do for you but to wed. It wasn’t the brilliant match we’d hoped for you, but Brinsley was the son of a gentleman and there was nothing to object to in his birth. We persuaded ourselves . . . God help us, we persuaded ourselves that you would be happy together. It all worked out so neatly. We kept the secret in the family that way. But then we had no notion Brinsley intended to resign from his perfectly lucrative post to pursue a life of leisure, nor that you would refuse our help. We did make Brinsley an allowance, but undoubtedly he frittered it away.”
“Yes, he did. But you could do no more since my pride wouldn’t let me accept what I called charity from you.” Sarah shook her head. “I was so full of stupid pride.”
Gripping her hand, the earl said vehemently, “You should never have been condemned to such a life.”
“Mama tried to tell me I was too young to marry but I wouldn’t listen,” said Sarah. “Who knows? Had you forbidden the match I might well have eloped. It was my decision to marry Brinsley. I don’t blame you, either of you. Never think that.”
She turned to the countess. “I owe you an apology, though, Mama. I judged you harshly without knowing all the circumstances.”
“Yes, you did. In your position, I probably would have done the same. For my part, I should have explained, rather than cutting you off like that. You are not the only one with a surfeit of pride. I was very wrong. But all that is done with now, Sarah. Painful though it’s been, I am glad we had this talk.”
Sarah stayed with her parents until late in the afternoon. There were ten years’ worth of news to catch up on, after all, and many bridges to mend.
As Sarah came away from the house in Grosvenor Square, she felt a quiet certainty that she had finally made peace with the long episode of her life in which Brinsley had played a starring role.
Perhaps he’d been a superb actor, or perhaps he’d begun their courtship in perfectly good faith. Perhaps he’d loved her. Somehow, that love had soured. She couldn’t think why or how that had happened. In truth, none of that mattered anymore.
That was the most significant revelation of all.
Sarah turned toward Brooke Street, conscious of need, a yearning to come home to Vane. The feeling disconcerted her. She’d learned a long time ago to rely only on herself. But she realized now that despite all they’d been through, Vane had never, not once, let her down. How rare that was. How utterly rare and precious.
As she hurried up the front steps she felt a warm, intense glow in her chest and a flutter of apprehension low in her belly.
The time had come to let go of the past. She would forge a future with Vane.
VANE arrived home bone-weary and very afraid. He’d returned to London with the determination to finish the business once and for all. He would either find that damned bank draft today or confess to Sarah and face the consequences.
But his inquiries had led him in circles, and no closer to that infernal piece of paper. That one document could destroy everything he’d striven so hard to build with Sarah.
As his valet helped him off with his boots, Vane gazed longingly at the awaiting bath. When he finally sank down into the steaming water, every muscle he possessed heaved a sigh of relief. He wanted to simply drift and rest his teeming brain.
He’d been right to challenge Sarah about Brinsley. He was convinced of it. But he shouldn’t have told her he loved her. What was she to do with a declaration like that? She hadn’t been overjoyed by the news, that was certain. Had she even listened?
He shouldn’t have said it. He knew she wasn’t ready to hear it. The sentiment would be a burden on someone like her. He’d long suspected she simply wasn’t capable of returning the emotion.
No, that wasn’t it. There were times when he thought she did return his love, even if she didn’t know it herself. She was trying to reconcile the past and Brinsley’s place in her heart, as he’d asked her to do, he knew that. But love shouldn’t take so much work, should it? He’d fallen headlong for her without any effort at all.
Dismissing his valet, he laid his head back against the lip of the tub and let the heat of the steaming water soak into his flesh. He closed his eyes as his mind slid away.
Vane knew nothing more until something moved against his chest. Something soft and springy that trailed water and thrilling sensation in its wake. As awareness returned, hope unfurled in his chest, deep and warm.
Opening his eyes a crack, Vane saw that Sarah knelt by the tub, a slight frown of concentration furrowing her brow. She held the sponge that was now making forays along his shoulder and down his arm, and the intensity of her regard was such that his body reacted instantly, pleasurably, even while he tried not to appear conscious.
Dimly, he remembered vowing not to share her bed until she came to him with love. What a witless ultimatum that had been! He thought this as soapsuds flowed down his chest, over his nipples, and disappeared into the water, spreading along the glassy surface like foam upon a wave.
She was soaping his right hand now. It was an effort to keep himself from picking her up and depositing her in the tub with him, silk peignoir and all.
Strictly speaking, they wouldn’t be in bed.
Repressing a groan of frustration, Vane shut his eyes and tried to simply enjoy.
Finished with his hands, the sponge trailed back to his chest, teasing around his nipples, then swiping over them with well-judged pressure. His stomach contracted and he sucked in a breath as the sponge traveled lower, and lingered at his groin.
He wanted to launch out of the bath and finish what she’d started, but something in her steady regard compelled him to stay where he was and endure.
With the sponge encircling his cock, moving on him, he might burst at any moment. His buttocks clenched and his teeth gritted as he resisted that primal urge to spill into her hand.
He couldn’t stand it anymore. With a hoarse moan, he removed her hand and stood quickly, water cascading from his shoulders and flanks.
He stepped out and reached for her, but she stayed where she was kneeling next to the tub, resisting his attempt to help her rise. She let the sponge fall from her fingers. His heart jumped at the sudden slap of it hitting the water.
She was on her knees before him. With not a word exchanged between them, instinct told him what she would do. His cock gave a mighty jump in anticipation. Her fingers closed around his length. Those wicked green eyes looked up at him, held his gaze while he held his breath, waiting, unable to look away from that sinful, knowing stare.
She licked her lips. Then very deliberately, she looked down at his cock as if it was the most delicious treat she’d ever seen.
Then carefully, slowly, she slicked her tongue over the head.
Christ! He gripped the lip of the tub as her mouth closed over him, his body bowed and taut. He’d never even thought to ask this of her. That she did it willingly, confidently, simply shattered his mind.
Proud Lady Vane, on her knees servicing him, and looking very much like she enjoyed the task. Vane stopped even trying to think and rode the pulsing waves of ecstasy she made with her mouth and hands.
Sarah reveled in this act in a way she’d never contemplated until now. Vane was a powerful man, but even as she went on her knees to perform a function men usually only asked of their whores, she was the one in control.
She was the one who made him tense and quiver like a stallion scenting his mare. Her touch made him groan and whisper husky pleas and move his hips in jerky thrusts to help set the rhythm. It was she who’d made him forget that he hadn’t wanted her to share his bed.
Wicked Little Game Page 26