by Gill, Tamara
Sarah doubted that. She smiled. “Are you leaving?”
“Yes, I must dash. Mama has a modiste arriving today. Next season will be upon us before we know it, and she wishes to be prepared.”
• • •
Sarah walked Anita to the door before seeking out Richard. She found him in the upstairs parlor. “You asleep?”
Richard sat up with a start and rubbed his eyes. “I’m up.”
“I hope so because you’ll never believe what I’ve been told.” Sarah flopped onto a chair. “It seems the other night when you went moseying about in Lady Cottlestone’s home, you were not as stealth as you should have been. Lady Cottlestone has informed Lord Earnston that someone has meddled in her private parlor.”
“What!” Richard stood, his face paling. “Do they know it was me?”
“No. You were lucky this time. But I also found out that Lord Earnston hired a runner to investigate his brother’s death.” She sighed. “We’ll have to be so careful from now on. If they catch either of us trying to find the mapping device … ”
Richard leaned against the mantle, his hand idly stroking the marble. “We’ll lie low for a few balls, make them believe the felon has fled.” Richard paused. “You need to get closer to his lordship and gain access to his homes and to him.”
Sarah frowned. It wasn’t easy starting a friendship with a man who filled you with guilt every time you were near him. For all his masculine charm — the long, mussed hair, his deep ocean blue eyes, and full lips — it was impossible to start a flirtation, no matter how much she lusted after his body.
“I can’t do it, Richard.” Sarah stood and joined him at the mantle. “I killed his twin. He would kill me if he ever found out. It would be wrong of me to let him believe there’s a future with me when there isn’t.”
Richard raised his eyebrows. “You will, and you know why. Because both our jobs depend on it, Sarah. It is only a little flirting, after all. How much damage can you do?” He walked away waving his arms. “What happened to the independent, intelligent twenty-first century woman I know? You made a mistake — you did not kill Lord William on purpose. And from this point on, I’ll not hear another word about you feeling guilty and full of regret.”
Sarah shushed him for fear the staff would hear. Richard growled and hugged her. How would she do the impossible? How was she to purposefully set out and deceive Lord Earnston again? “It’s just so cruel. What if his lordship forms a tendre for me?” She stepped out of Richard’s embrace. “Lady Anita is already matchmaking me to him, and Lady Patricia sees me as some sort of competition.”
Richard nodded. “I understand where you’re coming from, Sarah, but you know not to go against your father. Especially as we’ve already stuffed up more times I care to remember. If Lord Earnston forms some sort of crush on you, it’ll be short lived. Men of this era rarely married for love. You’ll see when we go home and read about what happened to his family; Lord Earnston would’ve moved on by the next season.”
“What if we went to the earl and asked for the device. If we explain where we’re from and apologize, perhaps he’ll give it to us and let us go.”
“And if he doesn’t, what then?” Richard argued. “Are we to take guns with us and threaten him should he become difficult? No, we’ll abide by your father’s orders.”
Sarah rested her forehead against the cold marble fireplace and welcomed the chill stone. “I can’t talk of this now, I need to lie down. Don’t forget we have Lord and Lady Connors’ soiree tonight.” Sarah’s feet dragged her toward the door.
“Keep your mind alert and free from guilt, Sarah, and just do the job. For all our sakes.”
Sarah met Richard’s gaze and recognized the fear in his eyes. “I won’t let us down. I don’t want to end up dead any more than you do.”
“As long as we’re both on the same page,” Richard said, lying back and closing his eyes.
Sarah walked from the room. Stay on the same page, or write a whole new book? One without a happily ever after.
• • •
Eric cooled his heels and waited for Miss Baxter to arrive at the Connors’ soiree. His need to see her again was unusual for him and yet welcome. It had been such a long time since he’d felt anything other than hate and revenge. Perhaps there were other things in life to look forward to after all.
Like the woman walking through the ballroom doors right at this moment. Eric relished the chance to admire her lithe form. The splendid gown of jade silk that he knew would accentuate the color of her eyes. Miss Baxter was a beautiful woman, and one he would like to know a lot better.
He hadn’t planned on coming to the soiree, had all but resigned himself to only see her again at their ride tomorrow morning. But it wasn’t soon enough, apparently, for here he was, his body thrumming in expectation to hear her voice.
He took a long pull of his brandy and watched as Anita whisked Sarah away from her brother. Eric noted their direction and looked back to Lord Stanley, carefully taking in the man’s features. His skin was darker than hers, as if he’d spent too many hours in the sun. But that wasn’t their only difference. The gentleman’s hair was an odd shade of auburn. Nothing like his sister’s ebony locks.
He started when a hand waved in front of him.
“Not your usual type, Eric,” Mettleston said, nodding toward Lord Stanley as he walked toward the card room.
Eric laughed. “Not my type ever. I was merely noting the difference between Miss Baxter and her brother. Odd that their hair and skin tones are so different. What say you?”
“I say, you need to drink that fine liquid in your glass and procure another. Perhaps Lord Stanley has spent more time outdoors or has the features of only one parent.” Mettleston shrugged. “Who knows and who cares? Certainly not me.”
Eric noted his friend’s foxed state. “Care for a game of cards? With your current inebriation I’m sure to win,” Eric said, trying to lighten his friend’s sour mood.
“I care not. Drunk I may be, but idiot I am not.” Mettleston gestured toward Anita and Miss Baxter. “See your cousin is here and has taken the Miss Baxter under her wing. Not two more beautiful women to be seen in society, I vow.”
Eric looked to where the two ladies stood, a bevy of beaus surrounding them, and couldn’t agree more. He watched Anita address the Marques Kentum and realized it would be only a matter of time before the man asked for her hand. Kentum was as besotted as one ought to be when in love, and not the least afraid to show it in public.
Miss Baxter, on the other hand, stood to the side, more reserved but attentive to the conversation. Eric wondered what she was thinking, wishing to be privy to her most inner thoughts.
Mettleston chuckled. “I see your aversion to being in Miss Baxter’s company has ended. Why, if you continue to stare at her in that way, you’ll create talk.”
Eric looked toward the dancers. “I was merely checking that Lady Anita is well and not suffering under all the suitors who skulk about her skirts.”
Mettleston scoffed. “Liar.”
Eric’s lips twitched. “What has you in high dungeons, my friend?”
“Nothing a few more of these will not cure,” Mettleston said, gesturing to his glass and slopping some of its contents across the floor.
Eric turned toward the sudden burst of laughter and locked gazes with Miss Baxter as she came toward him with his cousin. Eric tried to keep his gaze from devouring her form as she walked, but his eyes stole over her like a wave running over sand. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly parched. After his less than gentlemanly perusal, he expected to see a becoming blush on her checks, but alas it was not to be. And she intrigued him more when she lifted her chin and eyebrows in acknowledgement of his appreciation. Eric’s admiration for her doubled, and he smiled.
“Eric, how unexpected to see you here. I
did not think you were coming tonight.”
Eric kissed Anita’s cheek, but his attention was strictly on her companion.
“You look very well this evening, Miss Baxter,” he said, keeping his attention focused on hers. She curtsied and Eric caught a whiff of her perfume smelling of jasmine.
“Good evening, Lord Earnston.” Miss Baxter looked at Lord Mettleston, and Eric realized they’d not been introduced.
“Forgive me, Miss Baxter, this is my friend, Lord Mettleston.”
She smiled at Mettleston and Eric felt suddenly ill at ease. Her smile, unlike so many gestures throughout the ton, was spontaneous and genuine and aimed at his friend.
“Miss Baxter, may I have the honor of the next dance? I believe it to be a waltz.” Eric wondered what was wrong with him. His chest felt tight, his body hot as if he were taken with a fever. Never had an answer mattered as much as this one did now. Why, he couldn’t fathom; he only knew he had to dance with this woman again.
“I would like that, my lord.”
And there was that smile again that made his breath catch and his heart thump. He took her hand, placed it on his, and led her out to the floor. Eric pulled himself to rights and made an effort to act the gentleman.
Not the easiest when all he wanted to do was sweep her out the nearest exit and kiss her senseless in an utterly un-gentleman like manner.
Chapter Seven
Sarah inwardly shook as she walked beside Lord Earnston onto the dance floor. If ever she had her chance to cement a friendship with his lordship now was the time. Yet his marked attention, indicating an interest bordering on more than friendship, was hard to push aside.
She swallowed and turned to face him. His superfine coat felt wonderful under her hands and the overwhelming urge to stroke the material almost won over her sense of decorum.
Lord Earnston clasped her just above her hip and an exhilaration of desire shot to her core. She firmly fixed her attention over his shoulder and readied herself for the torture of the waltz.
And then they were moving, flowing and twirling around the dance floor between other couples. The turns were fast, almost dizzying, in fact. This time, however, Sarah was prepared and met each step with a little more grace than before. Excitement thrummed in her veins at being back in Lord Earnston’s arms. To have his whole attention fixed only on her left her breathless.
Sarah looked about the room and noted the other couples enjoying the dance. The gentlemen, so handsome in their satin knee-breeches and perfectly cut coats. The women on their arms beautifully dressed and the paradigm of Regency fashion. The gilded walls, enormous mirrors and magnificent artwork made the ballroom look like a scene from a period movie. A wholly magical experience.
“You look,” his lordship paused, “very beautiful, Miss Baxter.”
“Is it customary, my lord, to praise so in society? Will you not be scolded should any one find out you spoke to me in such a way?”
Lord Earnston smiled. “I will not tell if you do not.”
Her gaze veered to his lips, and hers suddenly felt dry. Refusing to lick them she took a calming breath instead. “Your secret is safe with me. And thank you for the compliment.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said, his gaze heated.
Sarah held back the squeak of alarm when he pulled her closer than he ought. She looked at Richard over his lordship’s shoulder and noted his pleased grin. Well, she supposed he would be happy. Here she was, getting cozy with the lord with no effort on Richard’s part at all.
“Did you end up buying any peculiars, Miss Baxter?”
She frowned. “Ah, no, my lord. There was nothing that caught my fancy.”
“Was there not?”
Something in his lordship’s tone gave Sarah pause. As if he was trying to get at something else. Was he flirting with her? Or was he suspicious? “No, but there are plenty of other antique stores in London. I’m sure I will find something among them that will take my fancy.”
“I should imagine so.” Lord Earnston pulled her into a quick turn. Sarah laughed and clasped his lordship tighter. “Are you still free to ride tomorrow morning, Miss Baxter?”
“Yes,” she said out of breath. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“That would then make two of us.”
Sarah deliberately ignored the double entendre hanging between them. It was merely her twenty-first century mind thinking dirty. “I have informed my maid, so you’ll not need to scold me this time.”
Lord Earnston grinned. “What a shame. I was hoping you’d buck convention and not bring one along.”
Sarah refused to blink. “Liar.”
“You know, Miss Baxter, you’re the second person this eve to label me thus.”
“Really?” she said, curious. “Can you tell me why?”
Lord Earnston swung her in to another tight turn.
“Lord Mettleston believes — now prepare yourself to hear something quite shocking — I have formed a tendre for a lady here present tonight.”
Sarah’s heart raced. She bit her lip and wondered what the social protocol was when a gentleman shared such a personal tidbit. She was pretty sure she should tell him off and storm away. Yet all Sarah could think was, did he mean her? And if so, what should she do with such a revelation? “Oh,” was all she replied.
His lordship grinned. “Yes. I told him he was being absurd, of course, but then I have been known to twist my words.”
Sarah looked about and wondered if everyone else were as hot as she. Dancing in his lordship’s arms, hearing his deep, rumbling voice was a challenge at the best of times, but when he aimed to make the woman in his arms melt like ice-cream on a hot summer’s day, it was nearly impossible to stay composed. “You lie then,” Sarah said, glad her voice came out strong and almost accusing.
Lord Earnston laughed. “Never lie, just … evade.” He paused. “Are you not curious as to whom Lord Mettleston meant?”
“It would be silly of me to ask as I’m sure, because you are a gentleman, you wouldn’t wish to cause me unease. You do realize women tend to look less than comely when flushed red to their roots. And you know how dedicated I am to finding a husband this season.” Sarah smiled at her own sarcasm. But at least his lordship was being hospitable, could well be on the way to counting her a friend, if such a thing were allowed in 1818.
Eric laughed. “Very well, I’ll abide by your wish not to know, but you’re wrong about a woman’s flush. I believe there is nothing more beautiful than a delicate rosy hue on a woman’s cheeks especially after a pleasurable exertion.”
Oh man he was hot!
Sarah said a silent prayer of thanks when the waltz ended. Lord Earnston swept her to a stop. “My lord, there is something — ”
“My dear, you must introduce me at once to the lady who has kept you this past half-hour. I command it.”
Sarah turned and found herself face to face with a formidable looking older woman. Sarah dipped into a curtsy and then wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Why was it that whenever she was nervous, she forgot the damn etiquette rules? The curtsy was supposed to come after the introduction.
“Forgive me. Miss Baxter, this is my mother, the Countess of Earnston.”
Sarah dipped into her second curtsy. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Lady Earnston.”
“Well,” her ladyship said, not responding any further. Instead she pulled Lady Patricia forward and almost threw her into his lordship’s arms. “Dance with Lady Patricia, Eric. She is free this next set.”
Lord Earnston clasped Sarah’s hand and bowed. “Until our ride tomorrow, Miss Baxter. Good night.”
“Good night, my lord.” Sarah curtsied.
When he didn’t immediately move away, her ladyship gestured them to leave, and took Sarah’s arm, adeptl
y steering her from the spot. Apprehension crept across Sarah’s skin.
“Miss Baxter, I’m sure you’re a very good sort of woman, but if you’re looking to marry my son, you’re setting yourself up for misfortune.”
Sarah noted her ladyship’s cold eyes and immovable stance beneath the sweet voice and smiling mouth. “I am not looking to marry his lordship; I consider him merely an acquaintance, a friend, if you will, in society.”
“A friendship between members of the opposite sex is an absurd notion. Such foolishness leads to folly, and you, Miss Baxter, will not lead my son to any such situation.”
Sarah stopped and pulled her arm from her ladyship’s tight grip. “I have no desire to lead him anywhere.” Sarah looked onto the ballroom floor and watched Lord Earnston enjoy his dance with Lady Patricia. They made a beautiful couple: elegant, tall, social equals. A pang of envy stabbed at Sarah, and she pushed it aside, breathing a sigh of relief when Lady Anita joined them.
“Aunt, lovely to see you tonight.” Anita kissed her ladyship’s cheek. Lady Earnston’s features softened at Anita’s gesture, and Sarah caught a glimpse of a woman whose youthful beauty was still visible under the lines of time and spite.
“Anita dear, I have been talking to your delightful friend, Miss Baxter. Patricia, as you can see, is dancing with Eric. Do you not think they make a fine couple?”
Anita didn’t even bother to find them on the dance floor. “They make a fine looking couple. As to whether they would match as a married couple, we should leave that decision to the respective parties. Don’t you agree, Aunt?”
Sarah bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from cheering Anita’s kindly veiled warning.
“Ah, are my hopes of a match showing?” Her ladyship tittered.
Sarah inwardly laughed harder at the false modesty this society peahen was crowing about.
“Just a little, Aunt,” Anita said, smiling.
It was time for Sarah to untangle herself from this charged topic. “Well, I think they make a lovely couple. If you would excuse me.” She curtsied to the older woman, and headed off in the direction she had spotted Richard earlier. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she spotted him leaning on the card room door.