Tempting Sarah

by Gayle Buck

  “I think that you should have a glass of warm milk to help you sleep,” said Margaret. “Bordon, see that my sister has one before she goes to sleep.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  When Sarah lay down in her bed, she felt much more at peace than she had in some weeks. She had missed the intimacy that she had shared with her sister. At last Margaret was no longer holding her at arm’s-length. She sighed, allowing sleep to overtake her as the world and its troubles faded away.

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  Sarah slept late the next morning. When she finally arose and dressed, it was already after luncheon. She was horrified that she had stayed in bed so long. It was something that she never did. But Lady Alverley was not at all distressed, for she also had just come downstairs.

  “Pray do not be so anxious, Sarah. You have not missed anything but your morning ride and going out with Margaret shopping,” said Lady Alverley. “Why don’t you accompany me this afternoon on my calls? You have not gone with me in several days and I do not like going out alone. I have given Marie today to herself and she has quite deserted me.”

  “Very well, ma’am. I will be delighted,” said Sarah with a smile. Her hazel eyes gleamed as she took in the significance of Lady Alverley’s invitation. She was obviously a poor choice behind Miss Hanson.

  Thus it was that Sarah spent the day with Lady Alverley. They returned to the town house an hour before dinner, separating at the foot of the stairs. The butler had stopped Sarah, saying that he had a message for her.

  “No doubt from one of your friends, Sarah,” said Lady Alverley dismissively. “I shall go on up to my room, for I am in need of a rest.”

  “Allow me to show you into the drawing room, miss,” said the butler. “You will wish to read Miss Margaret’s note in private.”

  “Oh, is it from my sister?” asked Sarah in surprise. She passed through the doorway into the drawing room. “Thank you, Herbert.” She scarcely noticed that the door was closed behind her as she unsealed the sheet.

  Sarah recognized her sister’s childish rounded scrawl and a smile touched her face. Margaret had never been an apt pupil with her copperplate. She started to read the note. Shock suddenly widened her eyes.

  Sarah read the note again, so stunned that she could scarcely comprehend the lines. She sat down again, rather abruptly, the note dangling from her numbed fingers. She shook her head. It could not be true. But there was the proof in her hand.

  Margaret had eloped. Margaret had eloped with Henry Jeffries. That very morning, while Sarah had still slept, her sister had driven out of London to be married by special license.

  “I must do something,” said Sarah aloud. But still she just sat there. There was a queer helplessness inside her. She did not know what to do. There was no one to turn to, no one to confide in. Her father was far away, too far to help her. As for Lady Alverley!

  Sarah shuddered when she considered what would be that lady’s likely reaction. Lady Alverley had never gotten over her daughter’s elopement. She still refused to talk about it. It would be a harsh blow to her ladyship to be told that her granddaughter had committed the same social solecism.

  Margaret was her ladyship’s favorite. Sarah had accepted that and had not begrudged Lady Alverley’s affection for her sister. She understood well enough that Margaret reminded Lady Alverley of her own younger self.

  Sarah’s first impulse was to go after Margaret herself, but she as swiftly discarded it, for she knew nothing more than what Margaret had written. She did not know the direction the runaways had taken, nor what their destination was to have been.

  “Dear God! Not Gretna Greene!” breathed Sarah. As unworldly as she was, Sarah knew that was a likelihood, for Margaret was underage. Where else could they have gone and found a clergyman willing to wed them?

  Sarah stood up, too agitated to sit still any longer. The scandal! There would be one, of course, especially since there were still those in society, like Lady Cronies and Mrs. Plummer, who could recall how Miss Annabelle Alverley had eloped with the Honorable Francis Sommers. Like mother, like daughter. She could almost hear the whispers and the laughter. Horrible, horrible. Oh, how could Margaret do such a thing? How could Margaret expose them all to such torment? Sarah put her hands up to her cheeks, disregarding the note as it fell from her fingers.

  The door opened and the butler stepped inside. “Miss Sommers, his lordship, Lord Eustace.”

  Sarah turned swiftly. “No, no! Not now—”

  But it was too late. Lord Eustace had already stepped past the butler. He stood looking at her with mild surprise on his face. “Miss Sommers?”

  Sarah took one wild look at him and then turned away so that he could not see her face. Her mind was all in turmoil. It was the greatest misfortune that he should come in just then. She did not know what to say to him. He had naturally come to call on Margaret, but not finding her at home, he had requested to see her as was his invariable custom. Sarah practically wrung her hands. She had to compose herself, to say something, anything—

  His hand touched her elbow and Sarah nearly started out of her skin. She whirled, looking up at him as though at bay.

  Lord Eustace stayed where he was. “I am sorry, Miss Sommers. I did not mean to startle you. I saw that you were distressed and hoped that I might—”

  Sarah gave almost an hysterical laugh. She dashed her hand across her eyes. “Oh, my lord! Indeed, indeed, I do not know what to say! Forgive me, I-I am not myself just now.”

  Lord Eustace noticed a small sheet on the carpet and he bent to pick it up. “Did you drop this, Miss Sommers?” He started to hand it to her, but then his gaze fell carelessly to the sheet. A few words leaped off of the page. He looked up swiftly, meeting her horrified expression.

  “Give it to me at once, sir!” exclaimed Sarah, snatching it away from him. She crumpled the sheet into a ball and stuffed it into her pocket.

  Lord Eustace watched her frantic action, his own expression frozen. “Miss Sommers, is what I just read true? Has your sister eloped with Henry Jeffries?”

  “I-I don’t know,” stammered Sarah. She glanced swiftly at his face, then away. “That is to say, I know nothing more than what you have gathered, my lord. The note was just given to me only a few moments before you came in.”

  “Then there may be a chance that they have not gotten far,” said Lord Eustace. “Have you consulted with Lady Alverley?”

  Sarah stared at him, appalled by the suggestion. “My grandmother? No, of course not!”

  “Miss Sommers, do you not think that Lady Alverley should be informed?” asked Lord Eustace. His dark brows had jerked together at her unfathomable reaction. “She will be able to send someone after your sister!”

  “You do not perfectly understand. I cannot say anything to my grandmother. Her pride is such that—oh, she will be angry, so very angry! In short, I was trying to think how best to handle this myself,” said Sarah in a rush.

  Lord Eustace shook his head impatiently. “It will not do, Miss Sommers! You cannot go careering off alone.”

  “I know! I know! I don’t know where to go or where to look,” said Sarah, almost beside herself. “Margaret is underage. I greatly fear—” She stopped, appalled by her indiscretion.

  “Gretna, you mean?” Lord Eustace’s lips thinned. “You would never catch them. I shall go after them myself.”

  “You!” exclaimed Sarah, staring at him in astonishment.

  “Yes, I!” said Lord Eustace. He went to the bell pull and yanked on it, glancing over at her. “It cannot have escaped you that I have shown a marked interest in your sister, Miss Sommers!”

  “No, no, it did not escape me,” said Sarah, avoiding his eyes.

  “I am sending for your sister’s maid. She ought to be able to tell us something,” said Lord Eustace, turning toward the door as it opened. “You there, send down Miss Margaret’s maid. Miss Sommers requires a word with her.”

  The footman looked from
Lord Eustace to Sarah and back again. “But, my lord, Miss Holby is not here. She left early this morning, saying that her brother was ill and that she did not know when she would return.”

  It was a blow. Sarah straightened, trying to preserve her countenance. “Oh, I did not know. I just came in a few minutes ago and have not been upstairs. Undoubtedly Holby left me a note, which I have not yet seen. Thank you, that will be all.”

  The footman bowed and exited, closing the door behind him. Sarah and Lord Eustace looked at one another. “I think it plain enough that the maid was included in the conspiracy,” said Lord Eustace shortly.

  “I cannot believe that Holby would agree to such a wild scheme,” said Sarah, shaking her head. She pressed her fingers to her temples. She knew it was inevitable that she had to tell her grandmother. The thought almost made her feel faint. “There must be some mistake. It is a nightmare. I cannot believe that this is happening.”

  “Unfortunately, it appears to be all too true,” said Lord Eustace sharply. He took a couple of turns around the room, various emotions chasing across his grim countenance.

  Sarah watched him. She knew that he was angered and affronted. She believed that she could guess his thoughts. He had favored Margaret with his admiration and condescension. He had the reputation of holding himself aloof. He did not dangle after every new debutante. And Margaret had repaid him by preferring an unknown cavalry officer to him. It was outrageous, unpardonable! In short, Lord Eustace was obviously suffering from lacerated pride.

  Lord Eustace turned abruptly to Sarah. “Miss Sommers, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  The words that left his lips apparently surprised him almost as much as they surprised Sarah. Sarah turned white. Shock widened her eyes. She grasped for the support of a chair back. “What?” she whispered.

  Lord Eustace’s expression smoothed so that it was unreadable. “I am asking you to marry me, Miss Sommers.”

  One of Sarah’s hands crept up to her throat. The dazed feeling inside her began to dissipate. “Why have you asked this of me?”

  Lord Eustace seemed momentarily bereft of speech. He frowned. “I admire you greatly, Miss Sommers. I have given some thought to marriage lately and I think that we would suit very well.”

  Sarah smiled sadly. She shook her head. She was completely mistress of herself again. “My lord, when you thought of marriage, it was not I who was in your thoughts. Indeed, I doubt that you have thought about me at all in that way.”

  “Of course I have, Miss Sommers,” he said explosively. “I have always enjoyed your company. You are handsome and of a good understanding. Your cool self-possession, especially under such trying circumstances as these, is a trait that I much admire.” He halted, apparently becoming aware that his reference to the circumstances had been incredibly inept. He cleared his throat. “I would consider it to be an honor to call you my wife.”

  Sarah was pale. “My dear sir, you credit me with a good understanding, and it is true. I understand perfectly well that my sister’s defection has come as a terrible blow to you. Your pride has been wounded and you are angered.”

  “No such thing!” exclaimed Lord Eustace, reddening under his tan.

  Sarah shook her head. “Pray do not deny it, my lord. We have become friends and so I make bold to state my opinion. You have offered for me from the impulse of the moment, an action that you will no doubt heartily regret once you have taken a moment to reflect.”

  Lord Eustace stepped forward to take her hand. There was a stubborn set to his expression. “Miss Sommers, I protest! I have much warmer feelings for you than you know.”

  Gently, Sarah withdrew her hand. Drawing a shaky breath, she said slowly, “You have done me honor, Lord Eustace. I recognize that. However, you will understand when I ask you to give me time to think over what you have said today. It-it comes as such a shock, you see.”

  Lord Eustace stepped back again. Without expression, he said, “Of course, Miss Sommers. It was not my intention to push you into a decision with which you do not feel comfortable. Forgive me for speaking out so precipitously. Perhaps given time we shall come to a better understanding.”

  “Perhaps.” Sarah managed to smile. She held out her hand to him. “I do not wish to be impolite by rushing you off, my lord. But you will naturally understand that this is a difficult time for me—for all of us.”

  Lord Eustace picked up his hat and gloves quickly. “No, of course I understand. I shall leave you now. No doubt you will prefer to be alone just now. I promise you that I will do my utmost to retrieve the runaways. I will send you word.”

  Sarah waited only long enough to allow Lord Eustace time to leave the town house before she exited the sitting room. She ran swiftly upstairs to her bedroom, her chest tight with pent-up emotion. Closing the door, she threw herself across the bed and burst into tears.

  * * *

  Chapter 21

  Margaret had not left it to her sister to break the news to Lady Alverley. She had thoughtfully left a note for her ladyship as well. Lady Alverley’s reaction was explosive and was heard nearly all over the town house.

  About the time that Lady Alverley was indulging in one of the most spectacular rages of her lifetime, Sarah had dried her eyes and washed her hot face. The bitterest bout of tears that she had ever experienced had left her drained, but determined. She had made up her mind what she was going to do.

  Sarah changed into a fresh dress with the help of her maid. Then she prepared herself to meet with her grandmother. Sarah knew her own heart very well. She had known for quite some time that she was in love with Lord Eustace. It had been a hopeless passion from the beginning, of course. Lord Eustace had been attracted from the first to her sister, Margaret, rather than to her.

  Sarah had struggled against depression and despair all Season, while she watched Lord Eustace’s attentions toward Margaret grow more marked. She had had a front-row seat to the courtship, for she and Margaret had attended the same entertainments and had shared many of the same beaus.

  When Lord Eustace came to call, he always asked after them both as a matter of form. However, if Lord Eustace had chanced to find himself with Sarah, he had inevitably talked to her about Margaret. Sarah had listened when he had extolled Margaret’s virtues and sung his praises of her beauty. All the while, she had carefully cultivated and maintained a cheerful manner.

  For Margaret’s sake, Sarah had disciplined herself to show only friendliness toward Lord Eustace. It was not for him to guess that she had cherished their short minutes together and stored up memories of his expressions and his smiles. She had nothing to complain of, really, for Lord Eustace had been unfailingly polite and considerate toward her.

  Only once had his lordship’s innate courtesy deserted him, and that had been when he had kissed her in such an insulting way. The following day he had sent a note of apology, but without explanation. After some soul searching, Sarah had accepted it and nothing more was ever said between them about the incident.

  In every other instance, Lord Eustace had always behaved circumspectly. He had always included her in his conversations with Margaret and in the plans that he had made for her sister’s enjoyment. Lord Eustace had never let it be seen that he would have preferred Margaret’s company over her own. However, Sarah had rarely allowed herself to be blinded to the fact that Lord Eustace’s kindness toward her was of an indifferent nature.

  Sarah had envied her sister for having the good fortune to attach Lord Eustace’s interest, but she could not dislike her. Margaret was vivacious, pretty, kind, and sweet. Never once had Margaret lorded it over Sarah by preening about her most distinguished beau. There was a genuine bond of affection between the sisters. Sarah had reflected more than once that it might have been easier if she and Margaret had detested one another. As it was, Sarah had been generous enough to want her sister to be happy. If Margaret had chosen Lord Eustace, (and Sarah had been satisfied that he was actually in love with her sister instead
of his memories of Vivian Leander), she would have pinned a smile to her lips and wished them every blessing.

  But now Margaret was gone. She had chosen someone else over Lord Eustace. Sarah still could scarcely believe it. But it was true.

  When she had first read Margaret’s note announcing her elopement, Sarah had been stunned but she had been strangely happy, too. That emotion had swiftly led to a feeling of guilt. What kind of monster was she to be glad that her sister had thrown away all of her chances and plunged headlong into scandal?

  However, now Sarah recognized that she had not actually taken pleasure in her sister’s downfall. Instead she had felt a conflicting and giddy relief that she need not pretend any longer that she cared nothing for Lord Eustace.

  However, his lordship’s proposal had plunged her into the cold water of reality. Her situation had changed, but his had not. Lord Eustace was still in love with Margaret. He had not proposed to her because he had suddenly suffered a violent reversal of feeling. No, he had wanted to exact a sort of revenge upon her sister. Lord Eustace had wanted to punish Margaret and at the same time assuage his wounded pride, by proving that he could marry anyone whenever he wished. Sarah had simply been the only available lady at hand. Sarah was quite convinced that he would have thrown down the handkerchief to any unwed woman who might have happened to be present at that moment.

  Sarah had seen all of this in an instant of blinding, painful clarity. In that light, Lord Eustace’s offer for her had been a slapping insult. Despite everything, however, she could have accepted his suit. Oh yes, she had been tempted to do just that. She could have settled for a marriage of convenience to the man whom she loved, hoping to ignite in him a similar love for her.

  Her head had overruled her heart, however, telling her that it would have been more likely that she would have become the object of resentment and hatred. Eventually, the last rejection would have been worse than the first.