Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires

by Sophie Barnes

  Five minutes later, he was seated in Richard’s room with a glass of brandy in his hand, aware that he’d already broken his promise to Sarah but knowing the problem at hand was too enormous for him to deal with on his own. He needed another person’s unbiased opinion.

  Standing by the window as usual, with his back toward Christopher, Richard gazed out at the darkness beyond through the narrow parting between the curtains. “I cannot offer much advice, since I have no desire to sway your decision,” he said, “but perhaps it would help if you were to consider what you would tell me if our roles were reversed.”

  Christopher took a long sip of his drink as he contemplated that. “If you were in love with—­”

  “In love?”

  “Yes, damn it. I love her, Richard. I don’t know how the bloody hell it happened or when, but there it is.” He hadn’t thought it possible and had even said as much to Chadwick, as well as to Sarah, but he also recognized that he wouldn’t feel as strongly about her confession as he did if he felt anything less.

  “Are you certain?” The curiosity in Richard’s voice was difficult to ignore. “After all, it wouldn’t be the first time you claimed to be in such a state over a woman. We both know how the last time ended, but once that harridan had finally left for America, you quickly recovered from your state of besottery.”

  “Besottery? That’s not a word, surely.”

  Richard grunted, and Christopher imagined that he was probably tilting his mouth and slanting an eyebrow in that self-­satisfied look he’d always exhibited whenever he’d said something original. “Consider it a new one,” Richard muttered. “The point is you were just as sure back then that you’d met the woman you were going to spend the rest of your life with as you are now.”

  “That’s not true,” Christopher said. “In fact, having had that previous experience, I’m now quite capable of distinguishing between love and infatuation. When it comes to Lady Sarah . . . I would give my life for her without blinking.”

  “You would, or you would have?”

  “I would.”

  “Then your regard for her hasn’t altered in spite of what she’s told you?”

  The answer was simple. “No,” Christopher said. He paused before adding, “That doesn’t mean I’m not angry or disappointed. Truth be told, it hurts like the devil to know that another man has bedded her—­more so when I consider how grievously he wronged her. This is not the same as her having had a previous husband who died and left her a widow. That I would be able to accept with greater readiness, but this . . . an impressionable girl seduced by a selfish scoundrel like Harlowe. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “What will you do?”

  Christopher wasn’t sure. As it was, he felt terrible about sharing Sarah’s secret with his brother, but he knew Richard could be trusted, since the only person he spoke to these days was Christopher—­he’d even dismissed his valet after the man had dared to comment on the scarring.

  Drumming his fingers against the armrest, Christopher studied his brother’s back. “If our roles were reversed,” he eventually said, “I would probably urge you to follow your heart, provided the scandal could be contained and would not risk harming the rest of our family.”

  “And can it be contained?”

  “I’m not sure,” Christopher muttered as he reached inside his pocket and drew out the framed clover. He had to be honest with himself, especially as heir to his father’s title. It wouldn’t do if Sarah’s history got out, and with ties between her family and his, her sisters would not be the only ones affected by it. “Unfortunately Mr. Denison knows as well, and he is not the sort of man who can be trusted.”

  “Then I’d best wish you luck, Brother,” Richard said without turning away from the window. “I hope you eventually get what you wish for.”

  A knock at the door made Sarah flinch, and when she heard her father’s voice asking if he could come in, she cringed. She’d returned to her bedchamber a half hour earlier, hoping that sleep would soon overcome her and save her from all the distressing thoughts that plagued her. Unfortunately, it had not.

  Rising from her bed, she went to the door, opened it and stepped aside, allowing her father entry. “However difficult this situation must be for you, Sarah,” he said as he closed the door behind him, giving them privacy, “I can assure you it’s just as hard for your mother and me.”

  Sarah doubted that, and she had no qualms about saying so. “Really?” she asked. “Then I’m sure you must know what it feels like to be cut off from everyone because you fear they might discover your darkest secret? The pain of having to tell the ones you love that you do not measure up to the person they thought you to be? That you’re not worthy of marriage or indeed of any form of happiness?”

  “You brought this on yourself, Sarah. You have no one else to blame,” he told her sternly.

  “Perhaps not, but you have no right to pretend you can possibly understand what it feels like. Whatever disappointment you have in me, however much you may resent the choice I once made . . . it doesn’t even come close to matching the way I feel about myself right now.”

  Her father stiffened. “You really care for Lord Spencer, don’t you?”

  It wasn’t something she’d wished to discuss with her father, but she had no desire to lie to him either. Closing her eyes as weariness pressed against her from every angle, she told him simply, “It doesn’t matter. I ruined my chance of marrying him years ago, before we even met. I’ll have to live with that regret for the rest of my life, Papa. Just contemplating it is unbearable.”

  “How do you suppose your mother and I feel?” he grated out. “You are our eldest daughter, Sarah. We had such grand plans for you, only to watch you toss them all aside for a hasty romp.”

  The vulgarity of his words shocked her. “It wasn’t like that, Papa.”

  “No? You were ruled by lust, Sarah, nothing more.”

  “I thought myself in love! Indeed, I thought that I would marry him. He certainly promised that he would marry me, but then the criminal charges were brought against him. I must confess that I am glad in a way that I did not bear his name when that happened. Lord help me, I was so naïve, and so very foolish.”

  “There’s no denying that.” Her father sighed, looking suddenly much older than his forty-­eight years. “I’ve no desire to continue arguing with you. It’s tiresome, Sarah.”

  “I agree with you there, sir,” she told him testily, though the edge of her tone had dulled significantly. A pause rose between them, growing awkward until Sarah eventually filled it by saying, “Lord Spencer still plans to duel Mr. Denison tomorrow. I tried to stop him, but he insists that it is a matter of honor—­that he cannot renege even though I made it clear that I am not worth fighting over.”

  Lord Andover’s eyes sharpened. “You told him the entire truth?”

  “I wished to impress upon him the importance that he disassociate himself from me.”

  “Then I will pray he can be trusted, Sarah.” Crossing to the window, Lord Andover glanced out at the garden. “As for your future, I have given it some thought. I will try to convince Mr. Denison to marry you, but if he’s changed his mind, we’ll need to make other plans. You cannot remain at home any longer, Sarah. While your mother and I were hoping to get you settled in some capacity, we may have to consider other options.”

  “Like what?” Sarah asked, uncertain of what her father might suggest.

  “I wrote to your uncle, Mr. Bentley, before Christmas, inquiring if he might consider taking you on as a governess for his three children.”

  “But Mr. Bentley is in Cape Town!”

  “Precisely.” Lord Andover looked at her steadily. “By the time I heard back from him, I’d managed to secure a match for you with Mr. Denison, which I believed you would find more favorable, since it would allow you to remain in England.�
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  “But can’t I become a governess in England?” she asked hopefully, attempting to sound amicable. After everything she’d put her parents through, she doubted they’d grant her much of a say in the matter, but she was determined to try. “Or perhaps a lady’s companion?”

  Her father spun around to face her, his eyes a deadly shade of black. “Don’t you see? ­People would always wonder why an accomplished lady of breeding ended up in such a lowly position. And where there is curiosity, an answer soon follows. We cannot risk anyone discovering the truth about you, when Juliet will be making her debut next year.”

  “I realize that, Papa.”

  “It’s settled then,” Lord Andover told her ominously. “If Mr. Denison still wants you, which I pray he will, since I’ll otherwise have to find a way of shutting that eager mouth of his, you will marry him without hesitation, and by God you will smile when you do so. If, however, he’s had a change of heart, we will begin arranging for your immediate departure for Cape Town. Either way, I trust you’ll manage to show a bit of gratitude in return for the lengths Lady Andover and I have gone to on your behalf.”

  “Gratitude,” Sarah muttered faintly.

  “Indeed, Sarah, you ought to be eternally grateful for the restraint I’ve managed to exhibit whenever I’ve been forced to contemplate this horrid affair. Don’t think I didn’t consider turning you out or having you horsewhipped on more than one occasion. Bloody hell!”

  Silenced by her father’s burst of anger, Sarah nodded grimly. He was right, of course. She had acted deplorably, had squandered her prospects, and now it was time to pay the price. She should indeed be grateful that her father was willing to try to get her settled, even if it would mean marrying a man she did not care for, who’d be far below her station and who would not treat her well. That failing, there was Mr. Bentley in Cape Town and his three children, a position she supposed she could align herself with during the two months it would no doubt take for her to arrive there. “Thank you, sir,” she told her father stiffly. “Your generosity is greatly appreciated.”

  With a grunt, he drew himself up to his full height so he could stare down at her with proper intimidation. “I should certainly hope so, Sarah. There are many papas who would not be as tolerant of a willful daughter as I.”

  He took his leave then, closing the door behind him as he left. Sarah stood for a long time after, hands trembling as she stared at the spot where her father had stood while he’d condemned her.

  Chapter 16

  By the time Sarah awoke from her restless slumber the following morning, it was twenty minutes to five. Panic coursed through her veins as she flung the coverlet away and leapt from the bed. She dressed with haste, almost forgetting to put on her spencer in her rush to get to the dueling field before it was too late.

  Hurrying downstairs, she passed a clock and glanced in its direction. Only five minutes to go. She would never get there on time—­especially not if she had to go in search of brandy first, as she’d wanted to do in case either man suffered an injury.

  Deciding to abandon the idea, since they could just as well return to Thorncliff if medical attention was required, Sarah prayed that the gentlemen would be late as well so she could make a last attempt to stop them. Perhaps they’d overslept or would spend some time discussing rules before the duel began. As doubtful as either of those scenarios were, she couldn’t help but hope.

  But when she dashed breathlessly out onto the field after following a trail through the woods at a near run, she saw that Lord Spencer and Mr. Denison were already engaged, their rapiers clanging together in the still morning air as they attacked and parried. “I’m too late,” she murmured, mostly to herself. She’d known she would be the moment she’d woken, but she’d still clung to the hope that she might arrive on time, although she’d stood little chance of stopping the duel even then.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Chadwick said, striding toward her. His brows were drawn together in a hard line that seemed misplaced on the otherwise cheerful earl.

  “I had hoped to arrive sooner,” she said, undeterred by his comment.

  “To what avail?”

  “Why, to try and stop this foolishness.”

  He studied her assessingly. “There is nothing foolish about a man defending a lady’s honor.”

  She winced at that. “Not even if he gets himself killed?”

  “That’s not going to happen here today. Neither man has any interest in causing the other’s death. And even if that were not the case, I have every confidence that the most honorable man will win.”

  Falling silent, Sarah had to agree. Lord Spencer moved with undeniable grace and agility, while Mr. Denison looked terribly clumsy. She watched as Lord Spencer leapt back, easily avoiding Mr. Denison’s blade as it struck the air beside Lord Spencer’s chest. Circling around, Lord Spencer attacked boldly, his blade meeting Mr. Denison’s as Mr. Denison defended himself with increasingly frantic movements, panting loudly from exertion. Still, Lord Spencer advanced, pressing his opponent backward and forcing him to respond swiftly to each of the blows Lord Spencer dealt him.

  “Spencer’s free hand,” Sarah said as she studied his closed fist. “It looks as though he’s holding something. What is it?”

  “A small frame containing a clover,” Chadwick said.

  Of course. A man with such deeply ingrained superstitious beliefs would never engage in a duel without bringing a bit of luck with him. She was glad she’d been able to help him with at least that much, especially since it appeared to be working.

  Spinning around, he made a more abrupt movement, forcing Mr. Denison to leap aside, causing Mr. Denison to stumble as he did so. It became clear that Lord Spencer had been going easy on Mr. Denison until now, for he gave him no quarter this time. With a rapid stab, he punctured Mr. Denison’s jacket and jumped back, his stance still ready for an oncoming attack.

  But the attack never came. Instead, Mr. Denison dropped his rapier and clutched his arm, his expression dark as he ignored Lord Spencer’s outstretched hand with more rudeness than Sarah had ever witnessed before in her life. Not bothering to pick up his rapier, he approached Sarah. As he came closer, she could see that his face had turned an alarming shade of purple and that tiny droplets of sweat covered his forehead in a wet sheen. He was practically trembling as he came to a halt before her, completely ignoring Chadwick’s presence at her side.

  “Never in my life have I been so humiliated,” he snapped. “To be subjected to such mockery by a man who’s undoubtedly—­”

  “Sir! I would caution you about your choice of language lest you find yourself called out again,” Chadwick said.

  “Very well,” Mr. Denison said, albeit reluctantly. He licked his fleshy lips and swallowed with apparent difficulty. Leaning toward Sarah, he then said, “I plan to procure a special license today, allowing us to marry no later than the day after tomorrow.” Leaning closer still while Sarah stiffened, he whispered, “I cannot wait to make you heed my command.”

  Heart slamming against her chest, Sarah took a step back. There was another option now, and while it didn’t exactly appeal, it was certainly better than becoming Mr. Denison’s wife. “Thank you for your offer, sir,” she managed with remarkable dignity, “but I will not be marrying you.”

  He stared at her for a moment as if she’d gone mad. “But . . . you have to!”

  “You cannot force her to the altar, Denison,” Lord Spencer said as he came to stand beside the man he’d just beaten. His eyes met Sarah’s, and there was a brief sadness within his gaze that was swiftly banished by an unforgiving hardness as he turned his eyes on Mr. Denison.

  “I’ll tell the world about your precious secret,” Mr. Denison sputtered.

  It was the one threat that Sarah could not ignore. She thought of her sisters.

  “You will do no such thing,” Lord Spencer said
calmly. “If we are to play at blackmail, sir, I would caution you to consider that my power and influence are far superior to your own. I will crush you with them.”

  Sarah could have jumped for joy. Even though he hated her, Lord Spencer had chosen to be her champion and help her out of the mess she was in.

  “I have no secrets or wrongdoings with which you may threaten me,” Mr. Denison said.

  Lord Spencer tilted his head, and Sarah realized that she was holding her breath. “Perhaps not,” Lord Spencer said thoughtfully, “but you do have two daughters whom you’d like to find suitable husbands for. If any rumors get out about Lady Sarah, however, I can assure you, sir, that your daughters will become unmarriageable faster than you can blink.”

  Mr. Denison paled. “This . . . this is an outrage!”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Lord Spencer said. Crossing his arms, he stared Mr. Denison down until Mr. Denison took a step back, wobbling a little as he did so. “If I might make a suggestion, it would be for you to put any thoughts of forming an attachment with Lady Sarah from your mind as quickly as possible.”

  “I will not stand for this!” Mr. Denison blustered.

  “And yet it seems as though you must,” Chadwick said with an exaggerated note of pity.

  Jerking his head back and forth as he looked from one to the other with furious eyes, Mr. Denison eventually turned on his heel without further comment and strode off.

  “Thank you,” Sarah said, addressing both Lord Spencer and Lord Chadwick.

  “You’re welcome,” Lord Spencer said, his face set in a serious expression that equaled the one he’d worn when she’d first met him. It had softened a bit during their acquaintance, and he had even allowed himself to smile and laugh on occasion, but that was difficult to imagine, looking at him now. “You should know that I would never spread unjust rumors about undeserving ­people, but Mr. Denison doesn’t know that. I had to threaten him with something he cares about.”