Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires

by Sophie Barnes

  “I know,” Sarah said. She gave him a weak smile, which he failed to return, reminding her of just how badly she’d hurt him. “I’m sorry,” she said again, even though she felt it made no difference.

  Lord Spencer acknowledged her apology with a curt nod that sent her heart plummeting. “I trust I can rely upon you to escort her ladyship back to Thorncliff?” he asked Chadwick.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Chadwick said.

  With one final glance in her direction, Spencer strode toward a horse that stood tied to a tree on the edge of the field. Standing beside Chadwick, Sarah watched as he swung himself into the saddle, kicked the horse into a canter and rode off across the field. He’d fought a duel for her and had even backed her up against Mr. Denison, but Lord Spencer had not forgiven her deceit, and that knowledge hurt like the thrust of a blade to her belly.

  Chapter 17

  “May I join you?” Lady Duncaster asked as she approached Sarah that afternoon.

  Wishing to be alone, Sarah had taken refuge in a more secluded part of the garden where Greek statues standing in various corners offered some distraction from her turbulent thoughts. “I’d be honored,” she said, gesturing to the vacant spot beside her on the bench.

  Taking her seat, Lady Duncaster spent a moment arranging her skirts. Companionable silence followed until Lady Duncaster eventually said, “You haven’t been yourself since the ball last night. Whatever it is that’s troubling you, I’d be happy to help.”

  Inhaling deeply, Sarah expelled a heavy sigh. “I just wish I would have been wiser. Instead, I’ve hurt ­people I never meant to hurt, yet I find that I still want to be happy even though I have no right to be.”

  “You’re being very harsh on yourself.”

  “I’m not being harsh enough,” Sarah said, staring straight ahead. “Mr. Denison and I were supposed to become affianced last night, but I turned him down because of foolish pride and because I dared hope that another option might present itself. It did, but it’s far from what I dreamed of. Frankly, I don’t know what I was thinking to suppose Lord Spencer might . . .” Her breath quivered upon her lips, and her chest contracted. She closed her eyes. “I shall go to my uncle in Cape Town instead, where I shall become a governess to his three children.”

  “When do you depart?”

  “Papa hasn’t told me yet, but I suppose it will be as soon as I return home. Juliet will have her debut next Season, so my parents will want me gone long before then.”

  Lady Duncaster harrumphed. “Men can be such fools.”

  “Lord Spencer is right to forget about me now that I’ve told him what I’ve done. I’m completely unsuitable for him and have known so all along.” She dropped her head in her hands. “Stupidly, I allowed myself to dream even though I knew how pointless it would be, and in so doing, I swept him along with me, deceiving him in the most selfish way.”

  “I don’t believe all this self-­deprecation will help,” Lady Duncaster told her firmly. “You did what you did and that’s that. Clearly you regret your actions, but I am also not entirely convinced that you are the only one to blame for the way things turned out. Now, I still don’t know the specifics regarding your ruination, but I’m not so old that I cannot piece it all together either. If you did what I think you did, then your parents are to blame as well for not offering better protection at a time when you clearly needed it. You must also consider Lord Spencer’s own fault in all of this.”

  “He has no fault.”

  “Ha!” Turning her head, Lady Duncaster regarded Sarah with great sympathy. “He knew quite well that you were supposed to marry Mr. Denison, yet he pursued you anyway. I’m not saying he was wrong to do so, because I truly believe the two of you are very well suited, but at some point along the way he must have wondered at your insistence to marry a man as unappealing as Mr. Denison is.”

  “I doubt he imagined the reason to be as awful as it turned out to be.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Lady Duncaster said. She paused a moment. “It is possible he might still come to his senses.”

  “Who? Lord Spencer?”

  “Who else?”

  Sarah pondered that. She loved him with all her heart, which only made everything so much more difficult. Soon she would be half a world away from him. “What if I give him a choice?”

  “I like the idea,” Lady Duncaster said. “Do go on.”

  “I’ve no desire to go to Cape Town. Better, then, to seek refuge in a French convent, knowing the choice to do so is my own.”

  “You plan to run away?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes any sense to me at this point, and perhaps the only one that might win me Lord Spencer if such a possibility still remains.” Sarah doubted it. The sense of loss that gripped her, weighing down her heart, attested to it. Still, she had to try. “If I fail, then at least I will have decided my future on my own.”

  Lady Duncaster scrunched her nose. “I can’t envision you in a convent, Lady Sarah.”

  “I think it might grant me the peace of mind I seek.”

  “Have you considered how to get there? I trust you have enough funds to allow for a comfortable journey?”

  Sarah bit her lip. “I was actually hoping you might be willing to lend me a horse to take me to Portsmouth. Once there I can pawn my jewelry and—­”

  “Stop right there,” Lady Duncaster said. “This idea of yours is sounding more and more desperate by the second, not to mention potentially dangerous. I would be completely remiss in my duty toward you if I allowed you to do such a thing.”

  “But—­”

  “Allow me to make you a better offer.” Steepling her fingers, Lady Duncaster pressed the tips to her mouth. “I think you had the right of it when you suggested that running away might spur Lord Spencer into action. He will either do nothing, or he will realize he cannot live without you and take up the chase. Hopefully it will be the latter, but to head off to France with barely a penny . . .” Lady Duncaster shook her head with obvious distaste. “It simply won’t do, but since it does make a viable tale, we’ll make it work. Rather than Portsmouth, you’ll journey to Plymouth.”

  “Plymouth?”

  “It’s farther away, allowing Lord Spencer more time in which to catch up to you before your ship sails.”

  “So I will be sailing to France after all?” Sarah was getting confused.

  “No. You’ll be sailing to Portsmouth.”

  Sarah frowned, her confusion complete. “Forgive me, but I don’t quite follow your reasoning.”

  “Well, obviously you must sail somewhere. Portsmouth is the closest port to Thorncliff, which makes it a most convenient destination. It will allow you to return here with relative ease, for if Lord Spencer still refuses to come to his senses, I will offer you a position as my companion.”

  Sarah stared at Lady Duncaster in amazement. “Are you certain?”

  Lady Duncaster arched a brow. “I like you a great deal and have no issue with whatever mischief you got up to in the past. It’s my impression that the two of us will get along quite nicely, if you agree, that is.”

  “Thank you, my lady, that is a most generous offer,” Sarah said.

  “And one that is made in vain, since you will be marrying Lord Spencer.”

  “I fear you may be wrong about that.”

  Lady Duncaster rose, so Sarah did the same. “We’ll know soon enough,” Lady Duncaster said as they started back toward the house. “We’ll make the necessary preparations immediately—­no need to linger—­so that by tomorrow you may be off. Hopefully with Lord Spencer in hot pursuit.”

  Sarah grinned. “You make it sound so romantic.”

  “I hope it will be,” Lady Duncaster said as they wound their way along a graveled path. “My own marriage had a very romantic beginning to it—­I dearly wish the same for you.”
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  Chapter 18

  “It’s chillier tonight than I expected,” Juliet said that evening at dinner. As promised, Lady Duncaster had arranged for her guests to dine on board the Endurance. Though the air was regrettably cooler than it had been on the previous days, the setting was splendid, with globular lanterns strung along the rigging. Trays filled with water, on which roses and candles had been set afloat, were placed in the middle of each round table, while music drifted forward from the stern, where the orchestra played.

  “You should have worn your spencer as I suggested,” Lady Andover told Juliet.

  “But Mama, it would have spoiled the entire effect of my gown,” Juliet said as she looked to her sisters for support.

  Sympathizing with her, Sarah said, “She does have a point, Mama. A spencer would crush those puffy sleeves to an indistinguishable mess.” She looked at Juliet, who appeared quite pleased with Sarah’s defense. “However, you could have brought a shawl. I’ll fetch one for you if you like. Perhaps the pink one?”

  “Oh, would you? I’d be ever so grateful,” Juliet said, her smile widening into a happy grin.

  “And since you’re going anyway,” Lady Andover said, “perhaps I can convince you to bring my lorgnettes? Unfortunately I cannot see as well as I’d like to in this dim lighting.”

  Hiding a smile, Sarah agreed to return with the items as quickly as possible. She made her way toward the gangplank leading down to the lawn, passing several footmen as she went. It seemed so strange to think that she’d be leaving in the morning. Stepping onto the springy grass, she hastened toward the house, determined to return before dinner was served. Thankfully, the seating arrangement had placed her at the opposite end of the deck from where Lord Spencer was seated with his family, saving her from having to endure a strained atmosphere with awkward conversation.

  Reaching the glass door leading back inside, Sarah considered Lady Duncaster’s offer. It was extremely generous of her, promising Sarah a comfortable life without marriage to a man she detested, and without leaving England either.

  Passing a ­couple of footmen in the hallway, she started up the stairs. Turning down the corridor that would take her to her bedchamber, she paused at the muted sound of footfalls on the carpet behind her. Turning to see who was following her, she didn’t quite complete her rotation before a heavy hand covered her mouth and she found herself pushed through a doorway and into a room filled with darkness. The door swung shut behind her. Panic rose up inside her as a strong arm grabbed her firmly about the waist, holding her arms in place and preventing her from lashing out, leaving her with no other option than to kick.

  “Hold still, you little bitch,” a harsh voice growled when the heel of her foot connected with a leg.

  Mr. Denison.

  However concerned Sarah had been for her safety a moment earlier, she was now terrified. Mr. Denison’s words, ­coupled with the fact that he’d been seriously humiliated by her, did not bode well. Neither did the strong whiff of brandy on his breath. She tried to speak—­to ask him why he was doing this, but his hand made that impossible.

  “This is all your fault,” he said in a gravelly tone. “Why the hell couldn’t you just agree to marry me? I need that heir you were going to give me. But you think yourself better than me—­that you deserve more. Well, you’re not going to get more than what I’ve got to offer you now that his lordship knows you for what you are. Considering all the time and effort I’ve invested, I daresay it’s time you paid your due.” Reaching up, he pawed at Sarah’s breast. Her blood ran cold. “If you’d protected your virtue, men like me would not be so tempted, but knowing you’ve already been had . . .” He grunted while he tugged at her nipple. “I daresay you’ve provoked the wildest imaginings.”

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Sarah tried to block out the painful words—­the reminder of her stupidity and the nausea that threatened in response to Mr. Denison’s touch. It made her sick to think of what she’d done—­of what she’d given away in a moment of youthful folly—­and what she’d denied Lord Spencer as a result.

  Aware of what was likely to happen if she did nothing, she stepped down hard on Mr. Denison’s foot. He muttered an oath. “Try that again and I’ll make this painful for you,” he sneered. He then chuckled and licked the side of her neck, making her shudder with disgust. “I wonder if Lord Spencer has had his chance to sample you yet,” he continued as his hand left her breast and drifted lower, across her belly and toward the juncture between her thighs. Sarah struggled against him, but her attempts were futile. He merely laughed in response as he tried to force his hand between her legs. “You’re not quite as willing today as I suspect you’ve been in the past,” he said. “I find I rather enjoy it.”

  Locking her knees together with all her strength, Sarah fought to deprive him of what he was now after, though she feared she would not be able to do so much longer. He was stronger than she was, and she could feel her body weakening as she struggled against him. She tried to scream, but it was to no avail. Nobody would hear her or know of what was about to transpire. That was when the tears came. Sobbing, she reached out and tried to grab for something—­anything—­she could use as a weapon, but in the next instant, the door to the room crashed open. Mr. Denison muttered an oath, followed by a loud groan as he dragged her to the side. His hand left her mouth and Sarah gulped for air as she fell toward the floor, landing on top of Mr. Denison, who’d grasped hold of her gown in his own attempt to stay upright.

  Sarah still wasn’t sure of what had happened until she felt firm hands upon her arms, lifting her away from Mr. Denison and removing her to safety before dealing the vile man a hefty blow to the nose that produced a loud cracking sound. “I’ll kill you, you despicable cad,” Lord Spencer growled.

  The room grew brighter, and Sarah saw to her horror that two footmen had arrived, alerted by the noise. “Lord Spencer, that’s enough,” she told Lord Spencer urgently as he punched Mr. Denison again. “Please stop.”

  But there was no stopping Lord Spencer’s attack. He was like a man possessed with only one goal—­to beat Mr. Denison until there was nothing left of him.

  With rigid expressions, the footmen stepped forward and pulled Lord Spencer back, almost taking a hit themselves in the process as Lord Spencer flailed to be free from their grasp so he could finish Mr. Denison off. Or so it seemed to Sarah as she watched the scene unfold. Never before had she seen a man attack another. There was a mad brutality to it—­a deep fury that seemed to consume—­and although she knew Mr. Denison deserved a thrashing, she was glad the footmen were there to put an end to it, since she feared for Lord Spencer and what might happen to him if he managed to kill Mr. Denison.

  “My lord,” one of the footmen said, “Lady Duncaster is quite fond of her carpets. It would be unfortunate if you and your . . . er . . . friend were to get blood on it.”

  Panting heavily from the exertion, Lord Spencer stared down at the mess he’d made on the floor. Eventually he nodded and shrugged himself free of the footmen’s grasp. “My apologies,” he said. “If you’d please see Mr. Denison back to his bedchamber, I’ll inform Lady Duncaster that he’s feeling slightly unwell.”

  The other footman grunted. “I daresay that’s an understatement, my lord.” He hesitated briefly before saying, “May I ask what brought this on?”

  “It was merely a quarrel,” Lord Spencer said as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt and rearranged his jacket. “We just got a bit carried away. That’s all.”

  “As you say, my lord,” the footman replied as he stepped toward Mr. Denison, no doubt preparing to hoist the man back up to his feet.

  “Come with me,” Spencer told Sarah as he offered her his arm.

  She went to him hesitantly, not liking the anger that lingered in his eyes. But she was grateful that he’d arrived as quickly as he had, and she therefore allowed him to escort her out of the room.


  “Are you all right?” he asked her as soon as they were alone.

  “I’ve had better days, I must admit, but I’ll be fine. Thank you for rescuing me,” she said, her entire body trembling in the aftermath. “The thought of what might have happened if you had not arrived when you did is too unbearable to consider.”

  “Shh . . . you’re safe now.” Placing his free hand over hers, he squeezed her fingers. “I’m just glad that I saw him following you when you left the ship, though I do wish I’d found you sooner.”

  “You mustn’t berate yourself for anything, my lord. You saved me, and that is all that matters.”

  “Perhaps you should stay in your bedchamber and rest. I can inform your family that you have taken ill.” His expression was set in hard lines, reminding Sarah of the breach in their friendship.

  “If you don’t mind bringing my sister her shawl and Lady Andover her lorgnette, I think that your idea is a good one.” She hated the way her voice shook as she spoke.

  Arriving at the suite of rooms Sarah shared with her sisters, Lord Spencer waited outside while Sarah went in to fetch the shawl, and then again while she went in search of the lorgnette. After she handed him the items, they stood facing each other in silence for a drawn-­out moment. Sarah wondered if he was mourning the loss of their previous camaraderie as much as she was. “Thank you again,” she eventually said, suddenly eager to be alone so she could prepare for her departure the following day. The sooner she left, the better.

  He sketched a stiff bow. “I’m just glad I could help.” He stepped back, fists clenched at his sides. “Until tomorrow.”

  Sarah watched him walk away, then quietly closed the door behind her. If only she could leave Thorncliff this instant. Entering her bedchamber, she knelt down and watched the soothing rhythm of Snowball’s tiny body rising and falling as he slept. “He won’t come for me,” Sarah whispered. Lady Duncaster was wrong. Lord Spencer had done his duty toward her this evening as a gentleman, but he had put all thought of sharing his future with her from his mind. Acknowledging this, the last of her hopes crumbled.