Exhilaration. Arousal. Shame. Mortification. They all swirled within her belly, a veritable maelstrom of emotions.
She had craved excitement, and she had got rather more than she had bargained for. Somehow, she knew she would never be quite the same person again.
Chapter 5
Arthur languidly smeared some marmalade jam onto his toast. Outside the windows of Woodhouse Manor, his father’s country estate, he could hear a myriad of bird life twittering in the trees. He sighed restlessly, tossing the toast back onto his plate. He was most definitely out of sorts.
He simply could not stop thinking about the dark beauty he had held within his arms the night before.
The door opened and the captain entered, his hair still tousled from his sleep.
“Sorry, old chap,” he said, yawning, “I am afraid I was longer abed this morning than I intended. It was rather a late night.”
“Stay abed the whole day if you wish, Morgan,” said Arthur magnanimously, picking up his toast. “It shall not bother me. We are on a country break, after all.”
The captain grinned, sitting down at the table. Within seconds the maid was at his elbow, heaping eggs, mushrooms and bacon onto his plate.
Arthur smiled to himself, stifling a laugh. Bacon. The way that the good widow’s husband had perished.
“What is so amusing, Nordarken?” enquired the captain, eying him balefully. “You look inordinately tickled by the contents of my plate.” He picked up his knife and fork, waiting expectantly.
“Oh, nothing,” he replied hastily, picking up his teacup. “Morgan, did you happen to see the lady who I was dancing with just before the ball ended last evening? When we had the masquerade masks on?”
The captain frowned. “No, I do not believe that I did.” His eyes narrowed. “Do I detect a hint of interest, my friend?”
“Most definitely,” replied Arthur, sipping his tea. “She was quite celestial. A dark-haired beauty of the finest calibre.”
The captain looked amazed. “I can hardly believe my ears, old chap. I do recall you whining to me that all the ladies in this district were as dull as mud and not worthy of your attention at all. What is so different about this one?”
Arthur paused, groping for words. How could he explain the lady that he had held in his arms and taken such daring liberties with? What truly did make her stand out of the crowd? He had barely spoken to her, after all. It had all happened in the blink of an eye before she had been whisked away by her disapproving guardians.
After careful reflection, he decided it wasn’t just one thing. It was everything. There was her dazzling beauty, but he had met many beautiful ladies in his life and was not overwhelmed by them. But this one…she had been so playful and sensual, even though she was obviously as innocent as the snow, willing to go along with his game, even daring him. She had been quick-witted, too, quickly coming up with her own backstory which had been highly amusing. He had been sorely disappointed when their game had come to such a premature end.
“She is simply superb,” he said slowly, placing down his teacup. “I must find her. I am positively afire.”
“You wish to make a conquest of the lady?” asked the captain, eying him meaningfully.
Arthur grinned. “I do indeed, my man. My hands are itching to touch her. It shall be worth the wait, I can always tell.”
“Be careful, Nordarken,” said the captain, between mouthfuls. “The ladies in this district are monitored more carefully than the ladies you are familiar with in London. Their families do not want the goods spoilt before their wedding day.”
“You make me sound like a rake,” shot back Arthur, stung. “I told you last night that I never seduce unwilling maidens.” He took a deep breath. “But this lady was willing, my friend. She was simmering with suppressed desire.”
“Lucky you,” said the captain, smiling wolfishly. “Tell me exactly what she looks like and I shall try to find out who she is for you. I still know a fair number of people in the area who may be able to assist me.”
Arthur smiled, relaxing into his chair. There was no harm in ascertaining who the young lady truly was, was there? He had to do something to amuse himself while he was in the district…didn’t he?
***
That night, as he was sitting in the library nursing an after-dinner brandy with a copy of Lord Byron’s latest poetry resting on his knee, the captain entered, looking a little uncertain.
“Well?” asked Arthur eagerly, placing his brandy on the side table. “Did you find out who my dark-haired beauty is?”
The captain sighed heavily as he sunk down into a chair opposite him.
“I did,” he said slowly. “Your description of the lady was so detailed that it was not so very difficult.” He paused. “It is a small district, and everybody knows everybody.”
“And?” Arthur leaned forward in his chair, staring at his friend. “Come on man, spit it out!”
The captain sighed again. “Very well. But you might not like what I have to say. It might make things rather…complicated.”
Arthur stared at him, utterly bewildered. What on earth was his friend talking about? What complications could there be? He had not grown up in this district; he barely knew anyone here at all.
“Go on,” he said, mystified.
“Her name is Lady Sarah Rubyton,” said the captain, looking pained. “She is merely twenty years old and well known in the district as slightly aloof with all the gentlemen, as well as being a great beauty, of course.”
Arthur nodded, smiling. “She dismisses the local lads, does she?”
The captain smiled. “It would appear so.” He took a deep breath. “But that is hardly the point. She is the daughter of Lady Pembleton. The lady who was formerly known as Lady Ann Marbec, prior to her marriage to the Earl of Pembleton.”
“What?” Arthur felt his blood run cold. “The Lady Ann Marbec?”
“I am afraid so, old chap,” said the captain, looking uncomfortable.
Arthur swore underneath his breath as he picked up his brandy. He was still for a moment, before downing the drink in one.
He was very familiar with the name of Lady Ann Marbec, even though he had never met the lady in his life. Lady Ann was part of his family’s story. It was a very troubling story that had ended in scandal, which was still sometimes whispered about to this very day.
He had first become aware of it when he was merely nine years old. He had been bored one day and playing a private game of hide and seek, spying on the housemaids as they pegged out laundry. They were gossiping together, as they always did, and he could hear their voices as clear as a bell.
“You know what the earl did in his younger days, don’t you, Daisy?” one had said to the other, her hands never stopping for a moment as she furiously pegged the washing.
The other maid had frowned. “No, Martha. What?”
“His Lordship was clouded in scandal,” whispered the maid called Martha, wide-eyed. “Before he married Her Ladyship, he was so violently in love with another lady that he pursued her relentlessly, even when both their families objected.” Her voice dropped an octave. “I do not know all the details but apparently there was a duel involved!”
“Oh, my Lord!” said Daisy the maid, looking shocked. “Who was the lady who inspired such passion? Is it anyone we know?”
Martha shook her head firmly. “No, it happened when he was staying with friends in Bath in his younger days. Apparently, her name was Lady Ann Marbec, a great dark-haired beauty. Their families have never liked each other – an old blood feud, going back a century or more – which is why neither would entertain them marrying…”
“Just like the old bard’s story,” breathed Daisy. “What was it called?”
“Romeo and Juliet,” said Martha, pursing her lips together. “A lot of old codswallop if you ask me. Silly toff kids with nothing better to do than think they couldn’t live without each other. That Shakespeare was a funny fellow, wasn’t he?”
The talk drifted on to plays they had both seen at travelling fairs. Arthur had soon lost interest and ran away. But the odd story of how his father had duelled over a beautiful lady who was not his mother had stayed with him, as had the lady’s name.
When he was old enough, he had asked Colonel Rogers, his father’s oldest friend, about it. The colonel had been tight-lipped but conceded that there indeed had been a scandal involving his father, a beautiful but unattainable lady, and feuding families. But his father never spoke of it. Arthur found it hard to believe considering how devoted he was to Lydia, Lady Halwell, his wife and Arthur’s mother.
When Lady Halwell had died two years ago his father had grieved her loss terribly. The story of the beautiful lady he had once loved passionately faded from Arthur’s mind. It had happened so very long ago, and he knew how devoted his parents had been to each other. What did it matter if his father had caused a scandal over a lady now?
Arthur pondered it all, clasping his hands together. It was not so very bad. His father need never know that he was pursuing the daughter of the lady who had broken his heart and caused an uproar all those years ago. He wasn’t going to be long in the district after all. And it was all water under the bridge now.
“It shall not matter, old chap,” said Arthur slowly, gazing at his friend. “We are only two weeks in the district. And it is not as if I am going to propose to the lady. Father need not know anything about it.”
The captain looked unconvinced. “I think you may be playing with fire, my friend. What if her parents get wind of who you truly are? I cannot imagine that either of them would be thrilled by the prospect of you courting their daughter after such a scandal. It would only raise it all to the surface again, which no one would like.”
“Courting is a strong word,” said Arthur slowly, frowning, “I think of it more as a game. A delicious game of hide and seek.”
The captain frowned again. “Nordarken, you are not thinking with your head. I rather believe another part of your anatomy is taking precedence now.”
Arthur smiled faintly. It was true; he was burning for the Lady Sarah Rubyton with a passion that he had not felt in a very long time. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had felt so on fire for a lady. He simply had to have her. It was as simple as that.
Old family scandals be damned, he thought suddenly. It had all happened so very long ago, and his father had obviously moved on from it. He never talked about it, at any rate. And Lady Sarah’s mother had probably moved on as well. Nobody would care if he had a dalliance with Lady Sarah. At least, not for that reason.
He simply must see her again. But he didn’t want to take the traditional path. He wanted to continue the game they had started at the Clifford ball. It was so deliciously exciting. And he knew that she had liked it as much as he had. He just had to plot where he would discover her next, and take it from there. He could almost picture the look of shock and surprise on her face when she saw him.
He smiled slowly, feeling a quiver of barely contained excitement. They could be anyone they wished to be. Last night it had been a sailor and a widow…what could they be next?
Chapter 6
Sarah gazed out of the dining room window, lost in contemplation. Mama and Papa were resolutely finishing their breakfast. She had hardly touched hers. Strangely, she seemed to have little appetite. Fierce butterflies were nipping in her stomach, making the thought of food impossible.
The tall, black-haired gentleman in the white masquerade mask, who had taken such shocking liberties with her. Who was he? And would she ever see him again?
She picked up her teacup, sipping the steaming liquid. He was a stranger to the district, that much was obvious. She would have noticed him before. How long was he staying? Would she run into him at another social engagement?
She didn’t truly know what his face looked like, but she would recognise that imposing figure instantly. But would he recognise her or even wish to?
It was only a game, Sarah, she scolded herself. Even if you do bump into him again and he recognises you, he may not wish to acknowledge the fact.
“Sarah.” Her mother’s voice was imperious. “What on earth has got into you this morning, child? You have barely broken your fast at all.”
Sarah smiled weakly. “Nothing, Mama. I am just not terribly hungry, that is all.”
Not hungry for food, at least. Hungry in another way entirely.
Lord Pembleton paused in his attack on his morning kipper, which he was deboning in a pedantic way. “So, daughter. Tell me which of the gentlemen who filled your dance card last evening is your choice of suitor.”
Sarah’s eyes widened in alarm. She knew which of the gentlemen she danced with would be her choice of suitor. But she didn’t know who that gentleman truly was, nor whether he would wish to court her. She could hardly tell her parents that the lascivious gentleman in a masquerade mask who had pretended to be a sailor was her only choice.
She took a deep breath. “I must declare that I cannot choose one, Papa. They do not interest me in the slightest.”
Lord Pembleton looked peevish, drooping his knife and fork on his plate with a clatter. “Are you playing games with me again, my girl? Your good mother and I made it perfectly clear that you must choose a suitor. This eternal dilly-dallying with it all is ruining my peace of mind.”
Sarah felt a flash of anger tear through her. Resolutely she bit her lip, trying to control it.
“I cannot say I am surprised, husband,” said Lady Pembleton, pursing her lips with displeasure. “It seems Sarah is intent on shirking her duty.”
There was an awkward silence at the table.
“That is most unfortunate,” said Lord Pembleton, shaking his head. “Sarah, you do realise what is at stake, do you not?”
Sarah swallowed her anger with difficulty. “What, Papa? All I can see is that you both wish to be rid of me and do not care a whit about how I feel on the matter.”
Lord Pembleton glared at her. “There is rather more to it than that, my girl.” He turned to his wife. “Shall we tell her exactly why it is so imperative she get on with the business of finding a good husband?”
Lady Pembleton looked pained. “Very well, then. Appealing to her conscience to do her duty does not seem to have worked in the slightest.”
Sarah stared at her parents. What on earth were they going on about?
Her father sighed heavily. “Sarah, you are our only child. And you were born a girl. I have no son to pass all of this onto.” He waved his hand in the air, indicating the house around them. “My estate is entailed away to a distant male cousin who is already married. That means that when I die, all of it shall go to him.”
Sarah felt shocked. She had never thought about what would happen when her father died, even though obviously he had no male heir.
“What about Mama?” she asked weakly.
“What about her, indeed.” Her father’s voice was grim. “And what about you? If you do not marry, you become a burden on this estate. Both you and your mother shall be forced to leave Pembleton Hall and make your own way in this world, with little fortune and no way of making one. Is that a life you wish to bestow on yourself and your poor mother?”
Sarah gaped. She stared at her mother. Lady Pembleton was tight-lipped, refusing to look at her.
“That is the reason you must marry and make a good match of it, my girl,” continued Lord Pembleton. “For your dear mama’s sake as well as your own. If you secure a good husband with even a decent annual income, he shall be able to support you as well as your mother.” He took a deep breath. “And I shall go to my deathbed a happier man knowing that both of your futures have been secured.”
Courting A Sinful Stranger: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 4