Tears coursed her cheeks, and she allowed herself one gut-wrenching sob of misery. With unfailing determination, Sabrina raked her sleeve across her face and heeled hard the flanks of the mighty hunter.
#
The butler who answered the door of the fashionable London residence early the next morning had not recognized her. He stared down his nose, barely masking his disgust. When Sabrina handed him her card, his eyes narrowed. He looked skeptical and ordered a footman to watch her.
If she were not so tired, she would have laughed. Instead, she yawned. It had been a long night, and the ride had passed with no fanfare. She had stayed on the verge, afraid that if she rode on the lane she would confront more highwaymen. Since she had already survived one robbery, she thought it best not to tempt fate any further.
“Brie?” Caroline appeared in the hall to the left. “Is that you?”
With a shivery sigh, Sabrina nodded. She tried to be strong, tried to remain complaisant. But in the end, she succumbed to her grief. Bursting into tears, she fell into Caroline’s waiting arms.
“Tea, in the back parlor,” Caroline said.
“At once, my lady.”
Sabrina followed her dearest friend down the hall to a warm comfortable parlor. She had been there many times since Caroline married Trevor. Of course, those had been happy occasions.
Now, she was miserable as the reality of her situation dawned. She was a woman without a home, without a husband, and with a child on the way. On the thought, another deluge poured forth.
“Sit.” Caroline pushed her into an overstuffed chair in a scene that was all too familiar. “Now, tell me what this is about. Your letter explained nothing. I gather things are not going smoothly between you and Everett?” Reclining on a daybed, Caroline settled her skirts. “And what on earth are you doing in fencing clothes? You know I can’t partake of the sport as long as I am increasing. Trevor would kill me. Well, he would wait until the child was born, and then he would kill me.”
Sabrina wiped her face and yawned. Just as she was going to speak, a servant entered with a tray. She greedily eyed the squares of shortbread stacked neatly on a plate. As the maid exited, she reached forward, swiped a square, and stuffed it into her mouth.
As she poured two cups of tea, Caroline laughed. “Goodness, Brie, did you not eat breakfast?”
“I came straight here.” She glanced at the door. “Is Trevor home?”
“No, he is down at the docks.”
“What time will he be back?”
“Brie, what have you done?” Caroline selected a scone from the plate. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“I must hurry.” Sabrina chewed her lip. “I do not want Everett to know where I have gone.”
Preparing to sip her tea, Caroline lowered her cup. “I do not understand. Did he not journey to London with you?”
“I am alone.”
Her brow a mass of furrows, Caroline returned her cup to the tray. “Sabrina, start from the beginning.”
Her eyes had grown wider by the minute, but Caroline had not interrupted as Sabrina recounted her discovery of the divorce petition and the midnight ride to freedom. In an attempt to avoid any persuasion contrary to her plan, Sabrina explained she had left Everett and had no intention of returning to him.
“My marriage is over,” Sabrina said with an air of finality.
“I do not believe it. He threw you out? No carriage? No money? No food?” Her anger obvious, Caroline stood. “The blackguard ought to be horsewhipped.”
“No.” Sabrina leapt from her chair and swayed. The room seemed to spin out of control, and she splayed her arms to balance herself. At once, her friend gave her support.
“Are you ill?” Caroline asked.
“No,” Sabrina insisted. “I am just tired. It was a long journey by horseback.”
“I can imagine.” Caroline humphed. “The man should be shot.”
Sabrina inhaled in an effort to calm her nerves and was overcome with nausea. Tea and shortbread rebelled in her belly. In the excitement, she had forgotten the morning malaise that assailed her every day without fail.
With a hand to her mouth, she spied a large decorative bowl, filled with fruit, on a side table. Quickly, she grasped the bowl, dumped the fruit on her chair, and disgorged the contents of her stomach into the dish.
Caroline held her until the shudders passed. Afterward, she wet a napkin and pressed it to Sabrina’s forehead.
“Better?”
“Yes.” With Caroline’s assistance, she eased to the daybed.
“How far along are you?”
Sabrina feigned ignorance. “What do you mean?”
“Brie, I have spent too many mornings on the other side of that green face not to know what is going on. When are you due?”
“I am not sure.” On a sigh, Sabrina accepted the fact that she had no suitable excuse for her condition. “I have never been pregnant before.”
Caroline’s eyes flared. “And he is still divorcing you?”
“I did not tell him.” How she wished she had prepared for that discussion. For some reason, Sabrina had thought her childhood friend would help her without questioning her motives. In that moment, she revisited her heartbreak.
“He does not know?” Her shock was palpable as Caroline opened and then closed her mouth.
“I will not use this child to hold him to me. It is not fair to Everett, it is not fair to me, but more importantly, it is not fair to our child.” And despite efforts to the contrary, Sabrina burst into tears.
“There, there, Brie.” Caroline wet another napkin and pressed it to the nape of Sabrina’s neck. Then Caroline held Sabrina, offering a shoulder on which to cry, without complaint. “What of your parents?”
“They are in the country.” Again, she sobbed. Her failure compounded by the second, and she forced herself not to think of her family or their disappointment. She would have the rest of her life to atone for her epic founder. “I will tell them soon enough. Right now, I need some time to myself to ponder the situation. Surely nine months will provide ample opportunity.”
“Sabrina, I can’t help but think you are making a grave mistake.” Caroline patted Brie’s back.
Sabrina sat upright and hiccupped. She stared at her hands and her white knuckles. “In my letter, I asked for your help.”
“You will have whatever you require.”
“I need a place to stay.” Sabrina marveled that she had not choked on the statement.
“You are always welcome here,” Caroline replied in monotone.
“Thank you, but that was not what I had in mind.” She looked Caroline in the eye. “Do you and Trevor still have that cottage on the beach? The one in Sussex?”
“Yes, but it is very small, only two bedchambers.” Caroline tapped a finger to her chin. “And there are no quarters for servants.”
“It sounds perfect.” She pressed forward, her goal in sight. “It will only be me, so I will not require servants.”
Disbelief evident in her expression, Caroline held a hand to her throat. “But you can’t stay there alone--not with a baby coming.”
“I will not be there that long. By the time the baby comes, I will probably be installed at my parent’s estate in Kent.” Where she would live out the remainder of her days.
Hands clasped in front of her, Caroline stood. She paced the floor, mumbling to herself. Occasionally, she checked off an imaginary list on her fingers. Sabrina was about to interrupt her silent deliberation when Caroline whirled about.
“Here is what we will do.” Caroline set her jaw. “First, you are going to soak in a hot bath. Afterward, you shall have a light meal and some chamomile tea, which will settle your stomach. Then, you will nap in my bed.”
“I can’t.” Alert in an instant, Sabrina flinched. “I must be on my way. What if Trevor comes home and finds me here? He is a friend of my husband--I mean, my former husband.”
“Rubbish.” Caroline waved dismissively. “When I
tell Trevor how Everett has treated you--”
“No, please do not,” Sabrina cried. “It is not his fault. His mother was right, I never should have married him.” She choked on a sob. “Promise me you will not say a word.”
“Shh, I will not tell a soul.” Caroline hugged Sabrina. “Now, as I was saying. While you rest, I will have our carriage packed with supplies to convey you to Sussex. I will also send a footman and a maid to see you comfortably situated. They will return tonight with the carriage, and Trevor shall be none the wiser.”
“Thank you, for everything.” A glimmer of hope for her future and that of her child flickered in her heart. Sabrina knew she had made the right decision.
“Cheer up, Brie.” In an affectation as familiar as their friendship, Caroline chucked Sabrina’s chin. “You are a survivor.”
#
The sun was high in the sky when Sabrina departed London for Sussex. Tucked snug and warm in Caroline and Trevor’s luxurious traveling carriage, gowned in one of Caroline’s dresses, and her belly full and quiet, she sank into the squabs and stared out the window.
A black pall chilled her to the bone.
In the seat across from her, a maid sat, as the city passed in a blur. Every now and then, she glanced at Sabrina and smiled. Sabrina returned the gesture. Grateful for the company, she was certain she could fill a chalk stream with her tears were she alone.
In the peaceful solitude, her thoughts turned to Everett. She wondered at his reaction when he returned to find the divorce petition signed and her gone. Would he rejoice in her absence, be glad to be rid of her? Would he be angry? Would he be sad?
She hoped not.
Well, she would not mind if he were a bit sad. It would be nice to think he cared for her a little.
Beyond the windows, the buildings became fewer and fewer, signaling they departed London proper. And in her heart and mind, Sabrina closed the door on her brief marriage.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
His heart was light.
It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Swaying softly with the movement of the carriage, Everett could not suppress a sigh of content as he passed through the main gates of his estate. The sun was low on the horizon, well below the yardarm. Gold light flickered between the thick trunks of the mighty oaks.
For the first time since his wedding, his properties were in order, demands on his time were few, and he was, at long last, becoming accustomed to his new title. The one thing he had yet to accomplish he would set right immediately upon his arrival home.
For good or ill, he would tell Sabrina he loved her.
It was time she knew it, time she accepted it. He shook his head and chuckled. He was going to lock her in his bedchamber and make love to her until she declared herself, in kind. With any luck, his bride would be stubborn, and he would be at her a sennight. He smiled at the prospect.
Being in love made him want to conquer the world, made him believe he could. If only to place the spoils at the feet of the woman who held his heart and hear her utter those three most precious words ever spoken.
I love you.
So simple a phrase, yet so powerful.
He understood now why the poets wrote in praise of it.
Why women lived for it. Why men killed for it.
Love was comforting and frightening at once.
Comforting because it could consume a man and make him forget everything else in the world.
Frightening because it could abandon the same man and deliver him to the gates of hell the following day.
In the forecourt, the carriage slowed to a halt. Everett stepped down, and gravel crunched beneath his booted feet. He skipped up the entrance stairs, and the doors swung wide to admit him.
Anticipation shimmered, lust roared through his veins and pooled in his loins. In a moment, he would be in his lady’s arms. He scanned the foyer and glanced at the landing. He sought her thick locks, black as a crow’s feather. His ears trained for the lively pitter-patter of her feet on the marble floor.
When he caught sight of his butler, Everett knew something was wrong.
Ware bowed. “Welcome home, my lord.”
“What is it?” He stopped in the doorway and had not bothered to doff his hat or gloves. “What is wrong? Where is her ladyship?”
“Gone, sir.” Ware’s tone bespoke ire. “Her ladyship left a note in your bedchamber.”
The words echoed in his ears.
Ware had to be mistaken. Shielded by denial, Everett charged the stairs and ran to Sabrina’s quarters, with the butler in his wake. Upon realizing his wife’s chambers were empty, he strode down the connecting hallway and entered his suite. Everett spied the envelope and crumpled sheet of parchment on his pillow the moment he burst through the door.
His hands shook as he digested her note.
Blast his miserable hide, she had discovered the petition in his desk while searching for the still room ledger. Why had he not burned the deuced thing? Sabrina thought she had done him a kindness. “You do not deserve to be burdened with me,” he read aloud and snorted. “I damn well do deserve her. I earned her with every trounced toe!”
He scanned the written correspondence, scoured the page for clues to where she had gone. “I shall always look on our time together fondly.” The weight of the world seemed to settle on his shoulders, and he sighed as his heart sank in his chest. “I count myself fortunate...to have had the opportunity...to know...t-true love.” His voice cracked as pain welled in his throat and choked him.
Why had he not shared his love with her sooner? Why had he insisted on formulating a pledge more akin to a lethal rake seeking access to his favorite skirt? Why had he not recognized his wife’s distress?
Instead, Everett had wrapped himself in a cold façade and kept Sabrina at a distance. He had ceased sharing his bed with her and had ended their evening walks, because he was terrified of enduring rejection. And in his ignorance, he had rejected her. Since Sabrina had accepted the petition without complaint, it was a safe wager she would not have believed him or his declaration.
Everett had to compose himself.
“Best wishes for your continued happiness?” he said sarcastically. “How the devil am I supposed to be happy without her?”
And then it hit him.
He read and reread the passage.
When reality sank in, he almost swooned.
Sabrina truly loved him.
Since he was a little boy, Everett had thought a title equated said emotion, that rank determined one’s worthiness in regard to devotion. And no second son, however wealthy, however accomplished, could win such a prize.
What a fool he had been.
His wife had loved him from the first. She had seen in him the characteristics she deemed deserving of her heart and gifted him her most precious treasure. And as proof of her regard, she placed his needs before hers and signed a petition she mistakenly thought he sought. She had surrendered her place as his countess, if only to secure his happiness.
Everett was not a failure.
He had claimed the most priceless gem of all--Sabrina’s love.
A feeling of acceptance, of overwhelming comfort and something he could not describe invested his body--and was quickly replaced with sheer panic.
“Bloody hell, she has left me!”
“I beg your pardon, your lordship?”
Everett flinched. He forgot that Ware had accompanied him to his bedchamber.
“When did she leave?” Everett smacked a fist to a palm.
“Presumably, at night, my lord.” The butler clasped his hands, lowered his eyes, and raised his chin. “While the household was abed.”
“How did she travel?” That made no sense, and he narrowed his stare. “I had the coach.”
“By horse, sir,” Ware replied dryly.
Everett hurled a slew of inventive curses on her imaginary head. “Are you telling me my wife journeyed to God knows where, alone, at
night, on horseback?”
Ware remained unfazed. “It would seem so, my lord.”
“When I find her, I swear I am going to put her over my knee and beat some sense into her. Of all the half-brained, ridiculous, careless--” He reminded himself of whom he spoke and cut short his tirade. What Sabrina had done was foolish, but with her, under such circumstances, foolishness was a given.
He could only wonder--no, not wonder, because he knew exactly how she must have felt upon discovering the petition.
Betrayed. Abandoned. Unwanted. Unloved.
And nothing could be further from the truth.
Everett trembled with anger, not directed at her, but at himself. He had been so involved in managing his estates that he had forgotten to take care of the one thing without which he could not live.
Sabrina.
It was a grave mistake, one he would not repeat.
In his other hand, he clutched the petition. Her delicate signature mocked him. Emitting a primal growl, he stomped to the fireplace, wadded the legal document into a ball, and hurled it into the flames.
“I should have done that in the first place,” he mumbled.
There would be no divorce.
How many times must say that?
The ton was littered with men who wished for nothing more than to be rid of their wives. Yet there he was, truly happy with his chosen mate, and he was afforded endless opportunities to be free of her. Now she was gone, and he would not rest until he got her back. “Ware, have my horse saddled.”
“But, my lord, it is after dark.” The butler waned. “There could be highwaymen on the roads. It is dangerous.”
Everett arched a brow. “If my wife did it, so too can I.”
As his butler rushed to relay his orders, Everett walked to the washstand. After filling the basin with water, he set the ewer aside. Then he stood still and gazed, unseeing, into the water.
Where had Sabrina gone? Where would he look? Her letter gave him no hint of her whereabouts. It was obvious she had not expected him to search for her.
That could only happen to him.
Leaning forward, he plunged his hands into the cool water and splashed his face. The refreshing chill jarred his memory. He raised his head, stared at his reflection in the mirror, and smiled. Everett might not know where his errant wife had ended up, but he knew where to commence the hunt.
The Most Unlikely Lady Page 27