Lady of Charade

by St. Clair, Ellie

  What he had not anticipated was blundering the delivery, accidentally insulting her mother, and listening to Sarah’s detached response.

  David was aware that Sarah was hurting and upset, though he had no idea for what reason, nor what he was supposed to do to help her. When it came to women, there were certain areas in which he was quite skilled—and proud of it. However, in others, such as a woman in tears, he was most decidedly at a loss.

  He wished he could tell Sarah that everything would be fine, but unfortunately, that could prove to be a lie. For while Torrington may very well still hold a penchant in his heart for Mary Jones, in no way did that mean he would be open to the return of a daughter of whom he had never been aware.

  And so it was that David found himself facing a sleepless night once more on the hard floor of Sarah’s lodgings. What made it worse was that he could hear her uneven breathing, knew that she was restless herself, and yet it seemed that despite their proximity she could have been miles away from him.

  He must have fallen asleep briefly at some point in time, for the next morning when he groggily awoke, he could already hear noises behind him telling him that Sarah was awake. He rose from his blankets, folded them carefully, and then waited for her to emerge from behind the privacy screen.

  She was clearly engrossed in her thoughts as she stopped, startled when she saw him.

  “Forget that I was here?” he asked with a forced grin to attempt to ease the tension from last night, and she self-consciously shook her head as she reached behind her to finish tying the muslin dress she wore. David had noted that she wore dresses of which the ties or buttons were large enough and easy enough to reach herself. She must have had them modified, for most dresses he was familiar with required a legion of maids—or some very deft fingers—to remove them.

  “I’m sorry. I am distracted.”

  “Understandably,” he nodded. “I can hardly imagine what you must be feeling at the moment.”

  They seemed like the proper words. He had attempted to determine his best response as he lay there, not sleeping, throughout the night.

  “I suppose I am simply overwhelmed,” she said, managing a small, clearly forced smile.

  “Sarah,” he said, “Whenever you would like to reach out to Lord Torrington, please tell me and I will arrange for us to meet him. Would you prefer it to be soon?”

  She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “I should speak to him myself.”

  David had thought that perhaps that would be her response, but he sorely wished it were otherwise. For he still worried about the man rejecting her, and he sensed a great need to be there for her if that happened, to comfort her, to protect her from someone who might not want her. Though how a man could be so foolish as to not want Sarah Jones in his life, David had no idea.

  “Please, Sarah?” he asked again, not wanting to beg, but unsure of how else to convince her. “I promise you, I will say nothing after I introduce you. You can say whatever it is you wish to him, and I will remain only an observer. Would you allow me to do that for you, to be there for you?”

  She paused for a moment, staring at him, and finally, she managed a quick nod.

  “Very well,” she said. “Could it be for tomorrow? I believe I need a day to determine exactly how to approach him.”

  “Of course,” he said, relieved that she had agreed. “Tomorrow.”

  As he left, the word played around in his mind. Tomorrow. The day that all would be revealed to both Sarah and Torrington. But it would bring something else as well—the potential end to all that was between him and Sarah. She had always said that once she had determined her father’s identity, she would leave England and return home. Even if, on the chance that the Earl accepted her, convinced her to stay and become part of his life, where would that leave David? He would no longer have any reason to be there for her every night, staying with her and protecting her. He could, of course, offer for her—the thought had been on his mind often enough. But all of her actions told him that she was not entirely interested in him the way he was in her.

  Oh, he knew she did care for him, as she had told him, but he could not imagine going as far as to marry her if she did not feel the same for him as he did for her. The idea of marriage triggered a thought in his mind, and he realized that he had not yet followed through on his determination to put an end to this ridiculous rumor regarding marriage between him and Lady Georgina. Despite his uncertainty regarding Sarah, he wouldn’t take Lady Georgina’s hand as his second choice. It wasn’t fair to her, and he would never be happy married to a woman not of his own choosing.

  When he returned home, he found a note waiting from Lord Hartley, noting he had gotten word to his cousin and she would be happy to receive him. David scribbled two notes for Hampton to deliver. One to Lord Torrington, requesting an audience for tomorrow, and another to Lady Georgina, informing her that he would call upon her this afternoon.

  Then he would pay a visit to his parents—but that would be a surprise.

  *

  Sarah hated lying to David. But he had been so insistent on accompanying her to Lord Torrington’s, she knew he wouldn’t relent until she had promised they would go together.

  It was not that she didn’t appreciate all that he had done for her, including his willingness to support her when she met—confronted?—her potential father. It was only that this was something she felt she had to do on her own. She and David had become rather attached, and Sarah had no idea how much was due to the fact that he felt indebted to her for saving his life, and how much it was because he “cared” about her.

  He already protected her every single night, but her meeting with the Earl was something she could handle. She had survived living on her own in the wilds of America. She had crossed an ocean. She had navigated the social scene that was London’s nobility. She could confront one man.

  As she walked through Cheapside to Mayfair, her cheeks warmed as she recalled the Earl entering his study while she and David had been inside. She didn’t think Lord Torrington had even looked at her, and she wondered now at what would have happened if he had actually caught her within his desk, going through his belongings.

  Would she have told him who she was? Would he have realized, right then, that he was her father?

  Her long walk complete, Sarah stood in front of Lord Torrington’s London manor, looking up at the building on St. James Street, its front facade covered in dark stucco, sash windows rising with the building and surrounding the brown paneled door with the fanlight atop.

  She had been inside before, of course, but never with such a purpose in mind. Sarah patted her hair, wishing she had put more thought into the fact that an hour’s walk would leave her looking disheveled. There was nothing to be done about that now, however. Sarah took a deep breath and walked up to the door, her knock being answered in moments by a tall, disapproving butler.

  “Good afternoon,” she said. “Is Lord Torrington available to callers?”

  The man furrowed his brow as he looked at her.

  “Do you mean Lady Torrington?”

  Oh, goodness. She hadn’t even thought of the fact that Lady Torrington might insist on being in the room when she spoke to the Earl.

  “No, I do mean Lord Torrington. I would like to speak with him alone.”

  “May I please provide your name?”

  “Of course,” she said hurriedly. “I have no calling card, unfortunately, but it is Miss Jones. Miss Sarah Jones.”

  “Very good,” he said. “Please follow me.”

  She nodded, her heart slamming against her ribs as she entered the drawing room after him. It was an elegant room, though not one Sarah would describe as comfortable. Egyptian gods and goddesses looked down upon her from where they were painted in a border near the ceiling. Additional sculptures stood upon the mantel over the grate, while the chairs were not at all plush, but ornately carved in exquisite, intricate motifs. It seemed everything within the room
was gilded, with the walls painted a brilliant red. The butler held out an arm in front of him, and Sarah followed his outstretched hand into the room, taking a seat on the settee facing the door. She took a deep breath, managing a smile for the butler who remained watching her.

  “Please wait one moment,” he said, before shutting the door behind him, leaving Sarah alone with her thoughts. She continued to repeat to herself the words she had been practicing since the day she found out that she might have a father, particularly an English nobleman. She would maintain calm, ensure that he understood she was asking nothing of him but a family connection.

  The doorknob began to turn, and Sarah jumped to her feet in anticipation of the man, but instead, a woman filled the doorway.

  She was slightly over average height, her hair still a deep chestnut despite the fact that she was old enough to be Sarah’s mother. She was beautiful, made even more so by apparent enhancements such as the slightest hint of red on her lips, which would have been nearly imperceptible but for the fact that Sarah was well aware of the various ingredients used for lip pomades here in England.

  The woman’s hair was intricately styled, as though she were hosting another gathering that very evening. She wore a long, deep purple gown that Sarah was sure was of the latest fashion. Her face, while beautiful, was now marred by a deep frown.

  This was Lady Torrington, Sarah recalled. She had to admit that she had not paid the woman any particular attention before. How Sarah was now supposed to explain her presence here, she had no idea, though she wondered from the chill emanating from the woman as to whether she had some suspicion as to Sarah’s identity—though how that could be, she had no idea.

  “Miss Jones,” Lady Torrington said, as she seemed to practically float into the room. “My butler tells me you wish to see my husband.”

  “Ah, yes, that is correct,” Sarah said, folding her hands over one another as she attempted to retain her calm.

  “Unfortunately, he is not currently in residence,” Lady Torrington said, standing across the table from Sarah and motioning for her to resume her seat. Sarah did so, though she had to attempt not to fidget as she had no idea what she was supposed to say to the woman. I’m here to tell your husband that I may be his illegitimate daughter? In her initial research of the man, she knew that he had not been married at the time she was born, so at the very least, she was not the result of an extramarital affair.

  “I will return at another time,” Sarah said, beginning to rise once more, but Lady Torrington held out a hand, motioning for her to remain seated.

  “This is not the first time I have heard the name of Miss Jones.”

  “No?” Sarah asked, surprised.

  “No,” the woman said, a cold smile crossing her face. “One remembers the name of the harlot who attempted to capture my husband’s affections.”

  Sarah could feel all the warmth drain out of her face.

  “Excuse me?” she whispered.

  “My husband and I have no secrets, Miss Jones,” Lady Torrington continued. “And, in fact, when he became aware that you might call upon him, he asked that I handle this entire…” she waved a hand in front of her as though Sarah was a pest who required exterminating, and Sarah bristled. “Situation.”

  “What is it you believe you know about me, Lady Torrington?” Sarah asked, willing her voice to remain steady.

  “You look like her,” the woman said, not answering the question, but instead narrowing her eyes at Sarah as she studied her. “I found you familiar to me the moment I first saw you with Lady Alexander. Of course, I will never forget the woman who attempted to steal my husband away.”

  “My mother never did anything to steal your husband,” Sarah responded, insulted that the Countess would think to even say such a thing. “I believe I was born before you were married.”

  “Perhaps,” Lady Torrington said with a shrug. “But I was always intended for Lord Torrington, since we were children. Men like to have their fun, I realize that. As you must be aware of as well, if you are so interested in Mr. Redmond, who seems to be willing to do whatever it takes to find himself in your bed at the moment. But know this, Miss Jones, a man will go back to where he belongs every time, once he has had his fun. My husband certainly did.”

  “My mother left of her own will,” Sarah said, wincing when she finally noticed how hard she was squeezing together the hands in her lap.

  Lady Torrington snorted. “Of course she would have told you that. No, the truth was, while the Earl certainly couldn’t order her away, my husband—then the apparent heir—told her the reality of the matter. That she had been an amusing dalliance, but that was all she would ever be. That he was to marry another. I do hope you understand that, Miss Jones. Which also means that my husband wants nothing to do with you. He is aware that you might exist, and he would prefer that all remains as it is.”

  Sarah swallowed the sob of despair that rose in her throat at the woman’s words.

  “I want nothing from you—or from him,” Sarah said, refusing to allow her voice to waver. “I only desired the opportunity to come to know the man who might prove to be my father.”

  “He is not your father,” Lady Torrington said, rising above Sarah now. “Legitimate children are only through marriage. You are nothing more than a by-blow. One he would prefer remained far from his life. He has no desire to acknowledge an illegitimate daughter. Return home, Miss Jones, to wherever you came from.”

  Sarah rose herself, though she didn’t yet walk to the door.

  “I wish to hear these words from Lord Torrington himself.”

  “Not every wish comes true, darling,” the Countess said with an icy countenance. “You of anyone should know that. Do not return here. And tell your Mr. Redmond that he should desist in his quest to help you. It is beneath him.”

  Not caring about being rude—for this woman had far surpassed such a thing herself—Sarah refused to look at her any longer but strode past her toward the door before the tears that threatened began to rain. She would not give this woman the satisfaction of seeing such a thing.

  “You will never compare to a woman like Lady Georgina.”

  Keep walking, Sarah, she told herself, well aware this woman was only trying to goad her into a reaction. But Sarah had always been the curious sort—far too much for her own good.

  She reached the door, had her hand on the handle—but then she turned around.

  “Who is Lady Georgina?”

  “Why, your Mr. Redmond’s betrothed,” the woman said with a satisfied smile. “Lady Georgina, daughter of Lord and Lady Buckworth of Bath. They are in London for a time in order to finalize this arrangement. Surely Mr. Redmond didn’t neglect to inform you of the fact? Oh… I see perhaps he did. My sincerest apologies, Miss Jones. And best of luck.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  David was well aware of how important it was that he see Lady Georgina and explain to her the truth of the situation. Yet, as he ascended the stairs of the London manor where she could be found, part of him—the cowardly side—prayed she would not be in residence. It would only delay the inevitable, of course, and yet David had been so ill-equipped to handle Sarah’s tears, he could hardly imagine how he might react to those of a woman with whom he did not feel nearly as comfortable.

  But if Sarah could travel halfway around the world to speak the truth to a man who she knew would more than likely reject her, he could certainly be honest with a woman regarding how he felt, could he not?

  When David knocked on the door of the manor, a housekeeper or maid—he couldn’t be sure which—opened the door, affirming that yes, Lady Georgina was in, and she and her mother were accepting callers and expecting him.

  Ah, yes, Lady Buckworth. Of course, she would be within as well, despite Hartley’s promise to arrange everything otherwise. David steeled his resolve as the housekeeper led him into the sitting room, despite how much he longed to turn and run away as fast as he could.

  “Mr. Re
dmond!” Lady Buckworth said, standing, though David didn’t miss the look of panic that filled Lady Georgina’s eyes. What was that about? “How lovely it is for you to call upon us today.”

  David managed a smile for her, though he kept his eyes on Lady Georgina. The girl—for she seemed much more girl than woman—was nearly shaking. Whatever could be the matter?

  “Yes, well, it is far past time that I came to call,” he said, taking a seat once the women did. He looked around him, noting that his mother would certainly not approve of the sitting room. It was clean, but the furniture was worn, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the chesterfield upon which he sat was from the previous century.

  He was aware that the Buckworths were renting the manor, but he wondered at their current state of finances.

  “I actually came to speak with Lady Georgina,” he said to Lady Buckworth in what he hoped was a firm yet polite tone.

  “Of course,” she said graciously. “Lady Georgina would be happy to speak with you.” She stared pointedly at her daughter but did not move.

  “I know it is rather untoward, but I was wondering if it might be possible for me to speak with her alone.”

  Lady Buckworth raised her eyebrows.

  “I am sorry, Mr. Redmond, but you must realize that I could never allow such a thing.”

  It was the answer he had been expecting, but he had wanted to try nonetheless.

  “Very well,” he said, clearing his throat as he stopped himself from wiping his palms, which had begun to sweat, on his pants. “It seems there has been a misunderstanding.”

  “Oh?” Lady Buckworth said, and David gritted his teeth, as he really wished the woman would allow her daughter to speak.