Sabrina handed her sable-lined cloak to an unhappy Greybar and stood quietly as a footman divested Charles of his greatcoat and gloves.
When they were in the drawing room, waiting for tea, Charles said, “What’s wrong with Greybar? I thought he would cry. That, or hit me.”
“He is his master’s servant. His master didn’t want me to even see you, thus he didn’t either. One thing’s for certain, this bunch is loyal to Phillip, all the way to their bone marrow.”
Charles walked to the fireplace to warm his hands over the bright blaze. After some moments, he turned to watch Sabrina fidget about the room, unable, it seemed to him, to contain her restless energy. Although he’d thought it odd for her to ask him to escort her to the park, he’d agreed, even managing throughout the afternoon to keep his questions to himself. Sabrina had chattered away so persistently throughout their ride, about the most trivial of topics, boring him until he thought he’d begin snoring on his chest, that Charles was now thrilled that she was at last still. But the fact was he’d known Sabrina all of her life. It hurt him that she was hurt and trying to hide it.
He said, “Where is Phillip? I expected to see him upon our return.”
She turned to face him. Her face was flushed from the cold wind, her hair in some disarray around her thin face. She shrugged, a nice gesture of indifference that didn’t fool him a bit. “I have no idea, Charlie.”
“Do you expect him soon?”
“This is his house. I assume he’ll come back when it pleases him to do so.”
Anger, not defeat, he thought, and said, “Listen to me, Sabrina Eversleigh, for the past two hours I’ve been battered by silly chatter that has numbed me to my toes. Now I ask you a simple question as to the whereabouts of your husband, and you turn into a snarling dog. You’ve only been married for two days. What the hell is going on here?”
“I might have known you’d side with him.”
“Side with Phillip? Dammit, I don’t even know where he is. Come on, Sabrina,” he said, softening his voice at the misery he saw in those incredible eyes of hers, “tell me what’s wrong. You’ve known me forever. You know you can trust me. Talk to me.”
Greybar entered bearing the heavy silver tea tray. While Sabrina was fussing with the cups, Charles was left to warm his hands and wonder just what the devil was going on here.
When Greybar bowed himself out of the drawing room, looking as disapproving as a nun in a room of harlots, Charles said, “Now, tell me what happened to make Phillip escape from his own house.”
He jumped when Sabrina yelled, “You see, Charlie, you are siding with him. Why do you automatically blame me? Can’t you even consider for a single minute that his absence might not be my fault?”
“No, I won’t consider it. I’ve known you all your life. I’m used to you and the way you think and the mischief you led poor Margaret into for years and years. But poor Phillip, he—”
“Poor Phillip, you say? He’s not poor, damn him. He has my dowry, which is magnificent, and he also has my ten-thousand-pound inheritance. Poor Phillip, ha!”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Very well, your poor Phillip informed me at the breakfast table that he was returning my inheritance to me, so that I would be financially independent.”
“Hang the bastard, I say.”
“Are you telling me, Charlie, that Phillip didn’t tell you about our business agreement?”
“A business agreement with you? That makes no sense at all. First of all, gentlemen don’t indulge in business, much less indulge in business with ladies.”
She looked down at her hands and began to pull relentlessly at her thumbnail. “After that horrible night at Almack’s, Phillip stayed away from me. It was I who approached him about marriage. It was an honorable bargain we struck, Charlie. He gave me the impression that he needed my money, that we had come to an agreement that benefited us both.”
“By all that’s holy, surely Phillip wouldn’t say anything of the kind. Ever since the Dinwitty heiress back in the early part of the last century, the Merceraults have never needed funds. They’ve only increased their wealth the past two generations. Phillip needs your money about as much as he needs a case of the hives.”
“I suppose I realized that after this morning at the breakfast table.” She sighed deeply. “I’m an heiress, Charlie.”
“I know that. Naturally you would be. Now, tell me the truth. Well, now you know that Phillip never wanted nor needed your precious money. Lord, he would have followed the same course even if you hadn’t a sou. It sounds to me as if you forced him to subterfuge so that he could do the right thing by you.”
“I guess I did know it,” she said in a low voice that made him lean toward her to hear her. “It was all a sham, a lie.”
“I wish you would remember how you turned him down several times. He was responsible for you, even though it was you who plunged him into this entire mess. Well, you certainly didn’t mean to, it wasn’t at all your fault, but if you hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“He’d still be free if not for me. Oh, don’t you understand, Charlie? I didn’t want him to marry me for those dreadful reasons. I didn’t want a sacrificial husband. I wanted to bring him something, anything besides my sullied reputation.”
“If you would just stop worrying about your own honor and think about his for a moment—”
Sabrina felt tears swim in her eyes. She hated them but she couldn’t keep them back. She gulped, raising her eyes. “He doesn’t love me, Charlie. He would never even have known me, much less married me, if it hadn’t been for what happened.”
“Of course he doesn’t love you. How could he? The two of you hardly know each other. As for the other, naturally he would have met you, here in London, when you’d come this spring for the season. He probably would have taken one look at you and thrown himself at your feet.” He sat down beside her and patted her shoulder. She turned and buried her face in his neck. “He didn’t spend last night—our wedding night—with me. He went to his mistress.”
Charles felt deep waters close over his head. No, surely Phillip wouldn’t have done that. Surely. It wasn’t as if Sabrina were as ugly as a doorknob. She was lovely. In the next instant, he realized his friend’s motive. He patted her back. She wasn’t crying, just leaning into him, all boneless, like a child. “Listen, Sabrina. He didn’t want to rush you. He wanted to give you time to get over what Trevor tried to do to you. He didn’t want you to be frightened of him. Also you were very ill. You’re still so pale it scares me. No, he was being careful of you and your feelings. Don’t hate him for trying to do the right thing by you.”
Her bones returned in a flash, her whole body stiffening. Her eyes were narrowed and mean. “Ah, I see it all now. He’s so wonderful that he went off and bedded his mistress. It would seem to me, Charlie, that if Phillip were truly the saintly man you’ve been painting, he wouldn’t go sleep with his mistress. He’d have stayed here in his own house, in his own bed. I could have slept next to him. He wouldn’t have to touch me, not that saintly man. Or, idea of ideas, he could have slept by himself, the entire night, not just the hours before dawn, which is when he probably returned home. He’s a pig, Charlie.”
“No, he’s not a pig, trust me on this, Sabrina. The problem is that Phillip is a man who’s used to women, he’s used to having—” He pulled back, aware of what almost spurted out of his mouth. “I didn’t mean that. Just forget it.”
“Yes, I see,” she said slowly, and he thought that she was now in control of herself. It was an unspeakable relief. A crying woman annihilated him. She said slowly, pulling herself together, “That would make sense. Of course Phillip would want to bed a woman at night. It’s the way he is. He didn’t bed me because he was afraid he’d scare me. Ah yes, now I understand.” She jumped to her feet and began pacing to and fro in front of him. “Then I suppose it’s up to me to show him that I’m quite well again
and I won’t run shrieking out of the bedchamber if he kisses me.”
“There’s, er, more to what happens between men and women than just kissing.”
“I know.” Then she whirled about to face him and she was grinning.
Charles just looked at the bright girl in front of him. It was difficult not to burst into laughter. It was a concept that boggled the brain—Phillip Mercerault was going to be seduced by an eighteen-year-old girl who just also happened to be his wife. He hoped she would succeed. He would also say thirteen prayers that she didn’t remember Trevor and get frightened.
“But you know, Charlie, I don’t know what to do about his mistress. I gave him his freedom, you see.”
“You won’t do anything, Sabrina,” Charles said in his firmest voice. “You will let well enough alone. Your courtship with Phillip, it hasn’t exactly been conventional. Take everything slowly. That’s my advice. Just don’t yell at him. He isn’t used to it. He’s quite used to having women coo at him and kiss him and tell him he’s wonderful.”
“Yes, but he has to pay them to do that. He doesn’t have to pay me. I’m his wife.” She paused, then added, “Well, he will give me a quarterly allowance.”
“It’s true that he pays them, in some cases.” He started to say more but decided against it. Charles smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Yes, let things progress slowly. Just wait, Sabrina. You know that Phillip probably doesn’t know what to do any more than you do. Just give him time. He is quite new to marriage.”
“I know, and I suppose I’m an old hand at it. Goodness, Charlie, I’m only eighteen years old.”
“That’s true, but ladies seem to know things before gentlemen do, particularly things that involve feelings and such. Yes, Sabrina, keep that tongue of yours leashed. Give him a chance.”
“I’ll wager you’ve never heard Phillip unleash his tongue.”
“Well, I have, but that’s different. Men are supposed to yell and hit each other. Now, I’m leaving. You’ve worn me to a bone. I’m exhausted. I have the headache. I want to escape before Phillip comes back and demands to know what I said to you.”
33
For a moment Martine just stared at her lover. He was the last person she’d expected at her door. “Phillip, what the devil are you doing here? It’s early evening. It’s the second evening of your marriage. Surely this isn’t how things are done. You were here last night, after all. Don’t you like this wife of yours who, I understand, is quite young and lovely and rich as anything? What’s wrong?”
Martine always prided herself on acting the languid beauty. She was serene, she was smoothly flowing in her speech and in the way she made love. But now, she couldn’t help herself, she stared nearly openmouthed at him.
“Good evening, Martine,” Phillip said, tossing his greatcoat onto the back of a chair. “Yes, I’m here. Yes, it’s the second night of my marriage. So? Am I suddenly not welcome?” He strolled over to his staring mistress and kissed her.
“You are always welcome, you know that.” He straightened. She searched his face, drawn as she suspected most women were to his beautiful eyes and that passionate mouth of his.
“You are newly married.”
“I, more than you, know that. Why are you chiding me? Oh yes, I know that tone of voice. I just heard it this morning, along with anger and resentment and illogic. So, don’t you do it. Just leave me be and be yourself.”
“This girl you didn’t compromise, she’s angry with you? That doesn’t make much sense, Phillip. Surely she would be grateful to you, worship at your feet for the nobility of your character.”
He had the grace to wince. “Whatever else she may be, at least she’s now safe.”
Phillip turned to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of port. Martine watched him silently as he quickly downed the port and filled his glass again.
“Did the carpenter come and fix the damned ceiling?”
“Yesterday. Didn’t you notice last night?”
He nodded. Yes, he remembered now.
“He was a saucy man, that one. He grinned at me and said that his lordship didn’t have to worry anymore about having his brains splattered on my pillows.”
“Now that’s an unappetizing vision.”
He set down his glass and gave her a bow, waving his hand toward the door. “Will you join me upstairs, Martine? My need for you is great.”
She didn’t think that was the case at all, but she gave him a sweet smile and her hand.
As she was removing her gown upstairs in her elegant, very feminine bedchamber, she turned to the viscount, who was standing next to the fireplace staring at nothing in particular. “Phillip.”
He grunted, not looking up from the flames.
“The little one, she is alone?”
Phillip’s head came up at those words. “Why the devil do you call her that?”
Martine drew off the straps of her chemise and allowed the soft material to float to her waist. Oddly, his eyes didn’t waver from her face. Now this was strange. “I called her that because I saw her.”
“Where would you see my wife?”
“In the park today. She was riding in Charles Askbridge’s phaeton.”
She saw his lovely eyes darken, a fascinating sight. She wasn’t at all fooled by his indifferent shrug. She wriggled lazily out of the rest of her clothes, stood naked before him for a moment, then walked slowly to the bed.
He didn’t move. “How did she look?”
“She looked as if she was trying to forget something unpleasant, perhaps. I heard her laugh, and she was smiling, but none of it was real, do you understand what I mean?”
“I’ll thank you not to pry, Martine.”
She displayed herself on the bed. He still didn’t move. “I’m not prying, Phillip. It was you, after all, who did the asking.”
“I told her not to have anything to do with Charles. She wanted to send him a message, on the second day of her marriage to me, she wanted to be with another man. But since you saw her, then she disobeyed me. Not that I’m surprised, of course.” He began to pull off his clothes. Suddenly he stopped.
“The little one, she has very unusual eyes. A soft violet. Unique. Just imagine what your children will look like. They will be magnificent.”
He didn’t move. The firelight played behind him, framing him. He was utterly silent.
“Ah, yes, her eyes are very vivid.”
Suddenly he began again to pull off his clothes. “Dammit, I’ll always have my freedom. I’ll not be tied to her, not to anybody, it’s nonsense. I’m too young. I don’t want my hatches battened down. I know she wanted me to come to her last night, she as good as admitted it, but I also know that the moment I touched her, she’d be terrified to her toes. No, I won’t do it. But I’ll do exactly what I wish. Yes, I’ll always have my freedom. I don’t care if I have to keep proving it to everyone—both to her and to me. It just doesn’t matter.”
He was nearly naked. She just smiled at him, not really understanding him. He’d changed, she knew that, and he’d changed so very quickly, and he was fighting it with all his might. Men, in her experience, had a lot of might.
Then he was naked and he was on top of her, kissing her, caressing her fiercely.
Then he stopped. He looked up at the headboard. Then he rolled off her and out of the bed. He didn’t say a word, just walked back to the fireplace and began dressing himself again. He said as he was pulling up his britches, “You know that Rohan Carrington had the reputation of an utter womanizer.”
“Yes, it came as a shock when he turned up with a wife and a daughter four years old. He is faithful, it’s said. Completely faithful. It’s said too that he loves his wife and he’s besotted with his little daughter.”
“Yes, he is, but he was different from me, Martine. He never worried about freedom, losing it or gaining it. We’re very different men.”
He raised his head and looked over at her. She was lying on her side in the most s
eductive pose a woman would manage, but he really didn’t notice. He said, “Yes, I’m very different from Rohan. It seems I must cause hurt where there was none before.”
He finished dressing. He walked to the bed and kissed her lightly, passionlessly, on the mouth.
“I’ll see you again, my lord?” She lightly caressed her palm against his cheek.
“Of course,” he said.
“Ah yes. It’s all a matter of your freedom, isn’t it?”
He stared at her hard for a long moment. “Perhaps,” he said finally, then he left her, not looking back.
She stared for a very long time into the fireplace.
The small ormolu clock on the mantel chimed out midnight. Sabrina lay wide awake in the darkness, waiting to hear Phillip’s footsteps on the stairs. She wasn’t at all certain how one went about seducing one’s husband, but she was confident that if she managed to kiss him, he would kiss her back. Surely that was enough to get a man started down the road of lust.
She stiffened suddenly at the sound of footsteps outside the bedchamber door. She heard him pause and then his footsteps sounded down the corridor until they were lost to her hearing. Very well, he’d given her enough time to recover from her fear of men. She forced herself to lie quietly for some minutes longer to give him time to remove his clothing and settle into his bed.
She rose finally and walked to her dressing table to light a candle. She looked at herself in the mirror. It wasn’t a frightening sight. Her eyes looked larger than usual and very bright. As for her clothing, she was wearing the embroidered nightgown. Her hair was shining clean, free down her back, and dark as burgundy in the candlelight. She slipped out into the corridor and walked to his temporary bedchamber.
She inched the door open and paused, blinking at the sound of his loud snoring. But she hadn’t taken all that much time. Goodness, he was fast asleep. It was time to wake him up in a very unexpected way. She grinned in the darkness and walked on bare feet to the bed. He was lying on his back, still dressed in his evening clothes. His arms were at his sides. It wasn’t the scene she’d imagined, she thought, as she bent over to touch him.
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