Lords of Passion

by Virginia Henley

  “I think a change of schools is in order. What d’you say,

  Sarah?”

  “Oh, I would love it above all things.”

  When they finished eating, the earl gave a speaking nod to his wife and she excused herself so that her husband could have privacy for the chat with his daughter.

  Cadogan led his daughter to a chair before the fire and sat down opposite her. “The time has come when we must think about your future, Sarah.”

  She nodded but made no reply, knowing there was more to come.

  “I have no son, so I want the very best for my daughter.” He paused to let his words sink in. “For some time now I have been searching for a suitable match for you. I would never consider any noble of a lower rank than my own.”

  Sarah’s blue eyes widened. You are talking about finding a future husband for me.

  “Not only must he be titled, he must be heir to wealth and property.”

  You married a lady from the Netherlands. I hope you don’t look for a match for me here. She clasped her hands together tightly. I want to live in England.

  “I have been offered a match for you that surpasses all my expectations. It is an undreamed-of opportunity that will raise you to the pinnacle of the aristocracy. A premier duke of the realm has asked for your hand in marriage for his son and heir.”

  Sarah sat silently as questions chased each other through her mind. Who? Where? When? But most puzzling was why?

  William Cadogan’s face was beaming. “The Duke of Richmond is offering marriage with his son, Charles Lennox, the Earl of March.” He leaned forward and patted her hand. “Sarah, my dear, you will be the Countess of March, and the future Duchess of Richmond.”

  “I … I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “Are we to be betrothed?”

  Her father waved a dismissive hand. “You are to be wed, not betrothed!” He loosened his neckcloth. “Fortunately, Richmond and his son are here at The Hague.”

  “So we will be able to meet each other and see if we suit?” she asked shyly.

  “Of course you will suit! The marriage contracts have already been drawn up. You will meet each other at your wedding … tomorrow.”

  Sarah was stunned as a sparrow flown into a wall. “Tomorrow?”

  Chapter Two

  “Only the thought of starting my Grand Tour has sustained me through the rigors of the nightmare journey to get here. Holland is as cold as the balls on a brass monkey. I’d like to go straight to Spain, then sail the Mediterranean all the way to Istanbul, Turkey. At the moment I crave sunshine, and look at Grey here, he’s pale as a corpse.”

  The Duke of Richmond poured his son and his tutor measures of gin. “Scotch whiskey does a better job at warming the blood, but gin is the best Holland has to offer. My apologies, gentlemen.”

  Charles did not miss the mockery in his father’s voice.

  “So—you’re done with Oxford, are you? Absorbed all the culture and knowledge that august seat of learning has to offer, I presume?”

  “The university is all very well, especially the cricket, but it cannot broaden the horizons and equip one for life as the Grand Tour must surely do.”

  “Have it all planned out, do you?” the duke enquired.

  “Absolutely. I’ve thought of nothing else for the past year. After Turkey, there’s Athens, Venice, Rome, Spain, Portugal. I might skip Germany and take in the Balkans. With the letters of reference and introduction to the royal houses and the envoys you will provide, I warrant it will take the best part of three years.”

  “To say nothing of the letters of credit drawn on the Bank of England I will provide,” Richmond said dryly.

  Charles swallowed nervously. “Well, that goes without saying, Father.”

  “Remind me again—what it is you intend to study in the great cities of the world, besides drinking, gaming, and whoring?”

  With tongue in cheek, Charles replied, “I intend to follow in your footsteps, of course.” He paused for emphasis and then continued. “I shall study language, art, architecture, geography, and culture.”

  “Mmm, do you suppose you could spare time from getting pissing drunk and acquire some filial gratitude, a modicum of deference, and a few manners while you’re at it?”

  “Things you acquired from your father, no doubt.”

  “My father had impeccable manners and a great deal of charm. He also had shrewd common sense along with his sensuality. You could do worse in a role model.”

  “Thank you for your advice.” He finished his gin. “It’s all settled then? I don’t want to hang about wasting time. When may I leave?”

  Richmond smiled. “You may leave anytime you please, after tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? What’s going on tomorrow?”

  “You’re getting married, Charles.”

  “What?” His dark brows drew together. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

  “I have arranged for you to marry. The ceremony will take place tomorrow.”

  “Who am I to marry, pray?”

  “Lady Sarah, the daughter of the Earl of Cadogan, Marlborough’s top general.”

  Charles jumped to his feet. “I won’t do it!” he shouted.

  Richmond shrugged. “Suit yourself, my boy. No wedding, no Grand Tour.”

  “Margaret, surely you packed something for Sarah that is more flattering than this gray dress. She looks like she’s wearing an institutional uniform,” Cadogan complained.

  Sarah smoothed the folds in the gray skirt and felt rather forlorn.

  “Go and put on your other dress, Sarah,” her mother admonished. The countess was gowned in her rich purple velvet with gold leaves embroidered on the stomacher.

  When his daughter left the room, Cadogan said, “You had better move to the London residence and enroll Sarah in an elite finishing school for ladies. She needs classes in music, dancing, and all the social graces. She must learn how to attract a gentleman and hold him in the palm of her hand. By the time the young Earl of March returns from his Grand Tour, she should be an accomplished lady of fashion who can hold her own, not only at Court, but in all aristocratic, high-class society.”

  Sarah returned wearing the oyster-colored gown with the cream frill around the neck. Her pale blond hair and alabaster skin blended in with the shades of her dress, and it would have been charitable to say she looked like a colorless stick.

  The general masked his despair and reminded himself that his daughter had gentle manners and a sweet amenable disposition. Upon occasion he had even caught a glimmer of his own Irish humor, despite Margaret’s efforts to stifle any spark of droll wit.

  “For privacy, the nuptial vows are to be exchanged in the Earl of Richmond’s suite. As ambassador to the Netherlands he has the most luxurious chambers in The Hague.” He checked the time. “You had better take Sarah there now, and I will make sure the Anglican cleric is on his way.”

  * * *

  The duke’s personal manservant opened the door to Richmond’s apartment. Charles was standing before the fireplace, in conversation with his father and the ambassador’s legal secretary. Both father and son were richly garbed in brocade coats and satin breeches as befitted the significant occasion. When the ladies entered, the duke welcomed them with a warm smile.

  “Countess Cadogan, do come in, and please be at ease.”

  Charles glanced at the countess, then his eyes swept back to the door expectantly. A full minute went by while he waited impatiently. He glanced back at his father. “Where the devil is she?”

  Richmond extended his hand. “I believe this is Lady Sarah, the bride-to-be.”

  Charles stiffened as he stared in disbelief at the girl who stood beside the splendidly gowned countess. His eyes moved down from the crown of her head to her spindly ankles, then back up to her pale, pinched face. “You surely don’t expect me to marry this dowdy chit of a girl!” He looked down his aristocratic nose at the rail-thin creature. “She’s flat as a board—how old is she?�
�� he demanded.

  The Countess of Cadogan’s lips tightened at the young earl’s insulting remarks, but she bit her tongue rather than retort with words that might offend the Duke of Richmond.

  Sarah blanched, and a white, bloodless circle appeared about her mouth.

  Richmond gave his son a fierce look that would have felled a less arrogant youth. He pressed a powerful fist into the small of the groom’s back and propelled him forward. “Lady Cadogan, may I present my son, Charles?”

  Margaret did not smile but sketched what barely passed for a curtsy.

  “Charles Lennox, at your service, my lady,” Richmond’s son said through his teeth.

  * * *

  Sarah stood, stiff as a stick of wood, and stared. She recognized the bully who had cursed at her on board the Green Lion, and icy fingers clutched her heart. This cannot be real; I must be having a nightmare. Surely my parents don’t want this monster to be my husband?

  The door opened and Earl Cadogan came into the chamber accompanied by the Anglican cleric. Sarah took a step toward her father, as hope that he would save her lifted her heart. “Father, I want to go home,” she pleaded.

  “And so you shall, my dear. You are so young, you will be a wife in name only. Once you have exchanged your wedding vows, your bridegroom is embarking on his Grand Tour, and you are returning to London to attend an academy for ladies.”

  Sarah’s hope shattered and left her feeling hollow and abandoned.

  Her father took her arm and led her forward.

  The Duke of Richmond forced his son to stand beside her.

  The minister stood before them and intoned an abbreviated version of the Solemnization of Matrimony. The vows they exchanged were forced. When Sarah opened her mouth and gasped, it was taken as consent. Charles was silent for a long, stretched-out minute. When his father thumped his spine, he gave a surly, “I will,” then added, “against my better judgment and at my father’s insistence.”

  “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

  Sarah stood, numb with shock, as her father actually gave her to Charles Lennox.

  A gold wedding ring was produced and placed on Sarah’s finger.

  “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. I now pronounce that Sarah and Charles be man and wife together.”

  Cadogan and Richmond were congratulating each other, both relieved that the marriage was all right and tight and legal.

  “You are an ugly little chit,” Charles murmured cruelly. “You are a brute,” Sarah whispered. “I hate you!”

  During the course of the next three years Lady Sarah experienced a metamorphosis. She underwent a striking physical change as her body matured and filled out in all the right feminine places. Her breasts became high and full, her waist tiny as a wasp, her hips rounded, and the curve of her bottom drew envious female glances and lustful, longing looks from all the males of her acquaintance.

  Her long honey-blond hair had a tendency to curl and lent itself to all the latest fashionable and intricate Georgian styles. Her porcelain skin and generous mouth needed only a touch of rouge to give her face the beauty of an English rose. Golden lashes fringed large blue eyes, the deep shade of Persian sapphires. Her slim fingers, delicate ankles, and long legs that had once given her the appearance of an ungainly colt now lent her a fluid grace that was exceptionable.

  Sarah had always been intelligent, and the lessons she learned in deportment, music, classical poetry, dancing, and riding gave her a polish of sophistication she had not possessed at thirteen.

  The five thousand pounds her father had saved from her dowry were put into an account in her name at the Bank of England. As a result, Sarah’s wardrobe was extensive. Her taste in clothes was impeccable, and she learned exactly which shades, styles, and fashions flattered her delicate fair coloring.

  Out from under the influence of her controlling mother, her natural Irish wit began to bloom, and as a titled, married woman she enjoyed a great deal of freedom. Since her mother preferred living at Caversham Park Manor, Sarah resided alone in London at the Cadogan town house, and by the time she turned sixteen, she was on the guest list of every social hostess.

  Sarah’s hand went to her throat as she read a note inviting her to afternoon tea.

  “What is it, m’lady? Not bad news I hope?” Molly asked. Sarah had elevated the Irish girl, whom her father had employed as a servant, to lady’s maid, and companion-confidante.

  “I expect it is. This invitation is from the Duchess of Richmond, my mother-in-law. I’ve seen her at Court, but I’ve always managed to avoid her.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “May she rest in peace … soon.”

  Sarah laughed. “That’s such a wicked thought, but vastly amusing.” She sobered. “I don’t suppose I can evade her any longer. It’s more or less a summons. Help me choose something appropriate to wear.”

  “D’you want to make her grass green with envy, or d’you want Her Grace to loath and detest you?”

  “Well, neither, actually. I would like her to realize what a fine marriage prize the Richmonds have gained. A lady who is far superior to their insufferable son and heir.”

  “One look will tell her their git of a sodding son is no fit match for you.”

  That afternoon, Sarah knocked on the door of Richmond House in Whitehall and was admitted by a liveried majordomo. She was wearing a day dress of sapphire blue lawn that matched her eyes. The contrast of the dark tone showed off her golden hair that was upswept and threaded with narrow loops of blue satin ribbon. Sarah was confident that she looked her best, and it helped her mask her apprehension.

  She followed the servant to a large sitting room where an older woman and a younger lady stood when she entered. To her surprise the majordomo announced her formally.

  “The Countess of March, your grace.”

  The Duchess of Richmond stepped forward. “Welcome, my dear. May I call you Sarah?” The dark-haired lady smoothed the silver strands at her temple and smiled.

  “Yes, please do, your grace.” Sarah made a deep curtsy.

  The older woman reached out her hand and raised her immediately. “It is not necessary. Please let’s not be formal with each other, Sarah. This is my daughter, Anne. Our meeting is long overdue. Forgive me for not inviting you sooner.”

  Lady Anne Lennox stepped forward with a warm smile and embraced Sarah. “You are so lovely. Mother and I are overjoyed that you are both beautiful and graceful.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah said breathlessly, amazed that they were so friendly.

  “Do sit down,” the duchess invited. “Anne, ring for tea.” She moved to a sideboard that held a decanter and glasses. “I hope you like Madeira?”

  Sarah nodded. She did enjoy sweet wine, though she hadn’t expected to be drinking it in the afternoon. She took the glass and sipped daintily.

  “I can see you are a little apprehensive,” the duchess said, “and I admit that Anne and I do have an agenda.”

  “Two agendas,” Anne corrected.

  Sarah swallowed half her wine, and felt her blood warm.

  “The Duke of Richmond returned from The Hague last year. Of course you met him at your wedding.”

  A picture of the swarthy duke came full blown to Sarah, and she shuddered.

  “My husband is suffering from ill health.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Sarah murmured politely.

  “He has brought it on himself, with a lifetime of drink and dissipation,” the duchess confided. “Still, it is my duty to return to Goodwood and look after him.”

  Sarah had heard rumors that Richmond had mistresses and at least one bastard. She drained her wineglass and set it down.

  “So that’s where my daughter’s agenda comes in,” the duchess explained. “You are a married lady, and Anne’s sister-in-law. Could we possibly impose upon you to act as chaperone for the Season? She has so many social invitations, but since she is unwed, it would be improper for her to remain i
n London unless you take her under your wing.”

  Sarah laughed. I’m only sixteen, how can I take on the role of matron?

  “I’m nineteen,” the dark-haired beauty admitted. “If I miss another Season, I’ll be considered an old maid. Do say we can be friends. I’ll try not to behave scandalously.”

  “Oh, dear, if that’s how you intend to behave, we shall have a dull time of it.”

  Anne joined in her laughter. “Thank you, Sarah. I can see we’ll be like two peas from the same disgusting pod!”

  “I thank you, too. I am most fortunate in my daughter-in-law.” A maid brought in a teacart, complete with finger sandwiches and petit fours. “Thank you, Jane. I’ll serve.”

  Sarah ate sparingly. She was confident that she and Anne would get along well, but she was a little nervous about what the Duchess of Richmond would ask of her. The three ladies sipped their tea, and when she was urged to take a petit four, Sarah could not resist the pink one, decorated with candied violets.

  At last the duchess spoke up. “I don’t want my son to follow in his father’s footsteps. The duke married me because I had an income of twelve thousand pounds a year. In truth, it was a marriage of convenience. My father jumped at the chance of a connection with Ye Royal Family.

  We were not in love, and Richmond thought it his right to take mistresses and produce by-blows.” She paused and looked beseechingly at Sarah. “I want you to make your husband fall in love with you.”

  Sarah choked on the pink petit four. “We are separated.” Thank God.

  “Charles is returning to London this summer. My husband and I had a letter from him last week,” the duchess informed her.

  This summer? Christus, it’s already May. I cannot endure the thought!

  “I know it is unfashionable for a husband and wife to have tender feelings for each other, but I desperately want my son to be happy, and after seeing you, I am confident you will have no trouble luring him to fall in love.”

  I hate Charles Lennox. I don’t want to make him happy. I want revenge!

  “I think Sarah is up to the challenge,” Anne declared. “With her beauty and wit, she’ll bring Champagne Charlie to his knees in no time.”