Sarah glanced at Hartwick, who eyed her sideways. All Sarah knew of electricity was the experiment she heard Mr Franklin had conducted with a kite over thirty years ago and Signor Galvani’s experiments on the reactions of muscles to electricity.
‘I’ve purchased an electrifying machine,’ she continued, stepping to the side and revealing a small cylinder on legs that came up to the petite Dowager’s knees. ‘It is ingenious really. If we crank this handle, it will create friction, which will carry an electrical shock from the machine through this string. If someone holds the string and you touch that person, the electricity will flow through them and into you.’ She looked around eagerly at her guests. ‘If one person would like to crank the machine, the rest of us can hold hands and receive a spark. Doesn’t that sound exciting?’
It did actually. How many people could say they knew what it was like to feel electricity move through their body?
‘Is it safe?’ Sarah’s father asked sceptically.
‘They would not sell them if they were not.’
He bobbed his head from side to side. ‘I don’t believe that’s entirely true.’
‘You may be our cranker, if you like, Mr Forrester,’ she said, apparently not wanting to miss the electrical shock herself.
Sarah’s father approached her side. ‘Do not hold that string,’ he quietly warned her.
Since Alexander died, he had become very protective of her. As a child, he had encouraged her adventurous nature. He had found it amusing. But now he feared he would lose her, too, and she was all he had left of his children. Yet how could he expect her to miss all the fun? Who knew if she would ever have the opportunity to try this again? And it was safe. The Dowager had confirmed it.
So when the stately old woman asked who would like to hold the string, Sarah couldn’t stop herself from immediately stepping forward—at the exact moment Hartwick did the same. They looked at each other and surprise flickered in his eyes.
There was a distinct clearing of her father’s throat behind her.
The Dowager clucked her tongue. ‘Only Lord Hartwick and Miss Forrester are brave enough to have a go?’
Katrina eyed the machine near her foot. ‘What does it feel like?’
‘A wonderful zing moves through your body,’ the Dowager replied, looking pointedly at Lord Sissinghurst.
‘Perhaps it’s best if a man holds the string,’ Sarah’s father said, still not convinced she would not spontaneously combust if she held it. ‘His body is more sound,’ he continued. ‘It will hold the greater amount of shock.’
Hartwick bounced on his toes as if he was restraining himself from going after the string. ‘Fear not, Mr Forrester. I shall be the sacrificial lamb and spare your daughter.’
But Sarah wanted to feel the shock first! Why should men have all the excitement in life? As the daughter of a diplomat she was forced to suppress her daring nature and appear subdued—or as close to subdued as was possible for Sarah. Back home, her brother had taught her how to ride a horse sitting astride without a saddle. She had climbed trees, swam in the ocean and had allowed two different men to kiss her. She lived for new experiences—experiences like having electricity run through her body.
‘The shock will be the same regardless of the size of the person holding the string, Mr Forrester,’ the Dowager replied to his question.
‘How long will it last?’ Lord Everill enquired from where he was inspecting the device over the rim of his spectacles.
‘As long as we continue to turn the crank and generate the friction.’
Lady Everill’s eyes grew wide. ‘How long do you intend for that to be?’
The Dowager shrugged. ‘However long we want. The residual effects can be quite fun. Electricity can make the strands of your hair raise. You can pick small pieces of paper up by merely waving your hand over them. And if you kiss someone who has been electrified, you will feel a sharp spark of fire from their lips.’
‘Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,’ Katrina said, stepping away from the device and approaching her husband’s side.
‘Their lips catch fire?’ Lady Everill all but shrieked.
‘No, Harriet, but it feels that way.’ The Dowager glanced once again at Lord Sissinghurst and they shared a smile. ‘Or so I’ve been told.’
‘Oh, dear Lord,’ Lyonsdale groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Sarah looked at Hartwick, who was rubbing his lips as if to wipe a grin off them. It wasn’t working very well.
If Sarah didn’t know any better, she would think the Dowager and Lord Sissinghurst had tried the kissing experiment themselves, but the woman had to be in her seventies. Surely people had no interest in kissing at that age. Did they?
The Dowager walked back to the machine. ‘I promise you. We will start with a short spark of electricity. It will not harm you. I know you are all curious. I am not the first person in London to hold an electrical soirée. Certainly you have heard of the others. Wouldn’t you love to say you have tried it, too?’
That was all it took for Lady Everill to agree. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said much too quickly.
Then everyone seemed to be in agreement.
‘Capital,’ the Dowager said with excitement shining in her eyes. We will try a few experiments for fun. Be warned, you should remove any substantial metal from your person. That would include jewellery, snuff boxes and the like.’
Wonderful! Now what was Sarah to do? She should have volunteered to crank the contraption. How was she to remove the bracelet without anyone noticing? Where would she put it? How horrible would it be if she kept it in her shoe?
‘My bracelet!’
All heads turned to Lady Everill and Sarah’s body grew cold. She was certain everyone would know the woman’s latest prized possession was in her slipper.
The Dowager’s clear voice gave her a small bit of comfort. ‘What is wrong, Harriet?’
‘My bracelet is missing! Oh, Eleanor, someone has stolen my bracelet!’
‘Nonsense! I can assure you no one here stole it. It must have fallen off. We will all help you search for it. Katrina, why don’t you and Miss Forrester look in the drawing room? You remember where we were sitting. Harriet, you, Everill, Mr and Mrs Forrester and I will search the hallway, and, Julian, you remain here with Hartwick to look for it.’
‘What does the bracelet look like?’ Hartwick enquired, looking at the lady in question.
‘It is engraved gold links and two of those links have small paintings on porcelain.’
Hartwick nodded in understanding while Sarah’s heart felt like it would jump out of her chest. Once she made it to the Crimson Drawing Room, her heartbeat slowed.
‘I cannot believe her bracelet just fell off her wrist like that,’ Katrina said, closing the door behind her and locking it.
Neither could Sarah and now she was fairly certain the Dowager had been eavesdropping on their conversation yesterday. ‘I have the woman’s bracelet in my slipper,’ she whispered back harshly. ‘I’m amazed I did not jingle down the entire hallway.’
‘As am I. I don’t know how you did it.’ Katrina opened the drawer of the game table and withdrew a piece of paper and a pencil. As Sarah sat to remove the bracelet, Katrina handed the drawing implements to her. ‘Use these, but be quick.’
The bracelet was of substantial weight, leaving Sarah to believe the links were solid. She studied each link and hinge, and found no way to open it. She placed it on the table and began to sketch it out to size. Although the back of the bracelet was free of any etchings, she took a rubbing of each link just to be certain she was not missing anything. Then she made indications of the colours of each of the images.
She folded the drawing and shoved it inside her stays, between her breasts. She was an intelligent woman. She could do this. She would not give
in to doubt.
They discovered Lady Everill sitting in the library, fanning herself and drinking wine. Lyonsdale was pacing slowly near the doorway, studying the carpet under his feet.
‘We found your bracelet, Lady Everill,’ Katrina called out as they entered the room.
Lady Everill rushed to them, grabbed the bracelet out of Sarah’s hands and clutched it to her chest. ‘Oh, thank heavens.’
A loud thud came from under a nearby table, and Sarah dropped down to find Hartwick on his hands and knees, rubbing his head.
‘What are you doing under there?’
‘Searching for that bracelet,’ he bit out. ‘What did you think I was doing under here?’
Sarah shrugged at his unusually harsh tone.
‘See, Harriet,’ the Dowager said from the doorway. ‘No one had taken your bracelet. Wherever did you find it?’
‘It was near the doorway of the drawing room. The clasp must have come loose when we were on our way to the library. You may wish to have a jeweller repair it for you,’ Katrina suggested with a sympathetic smile.
‘Oh, dear, I will at that,’ Lady Everill said, dropping it into her reticule and securing the satin braid of the bag around her wrist. ‘I’ll bring it to Rundell & Bridge myself tomorrow.’ A team of wild dogs would not be able to wrestle that bag from her firm grasp.
As people began to return to the library, relief that she finally had what she needed washed over Sarah, improving her mood greatly. Once she was able to use the bracelet to locate the diamond, she could rest soundly, knowing her parents’ wounds from the death of Alexander would not be reopened. If they knew he died while giving over plans to the enemy, they might never find any peace in his passing. It had taken both of them over two years to find levity in life again. The only thing that helped them accept his death was the knowledge that he had died fighting for what he believed in. His death had had a purpose in the outcome of the war and they were proud of his sacrifice. She could not let anyone take that from them.
This had been a perfect night so far. Sarah took a deep breath and smiled as her father walked up to her.
* * *
Hart stared at the reticule Lady Everill clutched to her chest and wanted to kick something. Julian had mentioned Lord and Lady Everill would be in attendance tonight, along with the Forresters and Sissinghurst. He had used the earlier part of this evening to prowl through her house on Mount Street with relative ease, searching for that damn bracelet—the one that, if he had been given the drawing room to search, would be in his pocket right now.
He tried not to let his frustration show. Thankfully he possessed a keen ability to mask his emotions to the world, otherwise Lady Everill would be shocked by how badly he wanted to rip that reticule out of her hand.
As the rest of the guests filed back into the library, Mr Forrester pulled his daughter aside. From the appearance of their conversation, he was instructing her not to hold the string of the electricity machine. For her part, Miss Forrester seemed to be trying to reason with him. Hart could sense he was respecting her opinions on the matter. All the fathers he knew would have simply forbidden their daughters from participating. What an odd family the Forresters were.
‘Is everyone back now?’ The Dowager went up on her toes and surveyed the room. ‘Capital! Now that Lady Everill has her jewellery, we can return to our evening of experiments.’
Hart approached Julian’s side. ‘I’m surprised she did not invite your mother this evening. I would think the Dowager would relish the idea of shooting electricity through the woman.’
‘My mother would have a fit of the vapours if she knew we were doing this. She finds her mother-in-law’s interest in science and society’s interest in these electrical experiments unnatural.’
‘Which ignites your grandmother’s interest all the more.’
‘Exactly. I would not be surprised if the purchase of that machine was in response to a heated discussion between them not long ago.’
‘Let’s begin with the chain of electricity,’ the Dowager said rather dramatically. ‘You may place your metal objects on the table over there. Lord Hartwick, Miss Forrester, how shall we determine who is to hold the string?’
Miss Forrester lowered her chin and looked up at her father with her large brown eyes. She was good. He would give her that. She was skilled enough to know the effect that expression would have on the man. Hart himself would never be swayed by a look like that, but he could see how it might change the minds of other men.
Just as he expected, her father let out a sigh and gave the slightest nod of his head. Her expression immediately brightened and she turned to Hart, excitement radiating off her. Out of politeness he should have acquiesced and given her the turn. However, he really wanted to hold the string and receive his shock from the machine directly and not from a current flowing from someone else.
Although it was rather erotic to think of the electricity travelling through Miss Forrester’s entire body—her most intimate areas—and then flowing directly into him—touching his most intimate areas. His trousers began to tighten and he needed to shift his stance to relieve the strain. What a ridiculous notion to get one aroused. He recalled the outline of her legs in those trews of hers. Her calves were slim and her thighs shapely. It was as if he could feel her legs wrapped around him. She was an impudent thing and Hart had often wondered if her vitality would translate into sexual play.
She was the last person he should be picturing in a bed. Or up against a wall. Or on her knees in a carriage. She was an unmarried woman from a respectable family, for goodness’ sake. A breed he avoided like the plague. He had no use for any of them—except it was so much fun to tease her.
‘I will leave the decision to Miss Forrester,’ he said, executing an extravagant bow to the woman who stood a few feet to his left.
She narrowed her eyes. Her suspicions were warranted.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said with an apprehensive smile. ‘That is very kind.’
He looked up at her from where he was still bowing as if he knew a great secret. She wavered just a bit. No one else in the room would have seen it, but he did. She was wondering what he knew about the machine that made him change his mind about holding the string. Her eyes darted to the cylinder with the crank and back to him. The indecision was there, right where he’d planted it. It was difficult not to smile.
‘I appreciate your offer, Lord Hartwick, however I will let you take the string.’
‘I do not mind having you take the lead.’ He used his most neutral expression.
Her eyes darted once more to the machine. ‘No, I insist. I shall be second in line.’
‘Very well, if you insist.’ He tipped his head and gave her one of his most charming smiles.
Then he saw the look in her eyes. She knew she had been bested, but it was too late to rescind her statement. He took such perverse satisfaction in knowing that she knew he had tricked her.
As they went to take their places in line, her father approached his side. ‘Thank you, my lord, for what you did.’
‘I assure you, sir, I did nothing but offer your daughter my place at the front of the line.’
‘And yet she declined your offer. I’m not sure how you managed that, but I am grateful. Some day when you have children of your own, you will understand how a father worries about them.’ He smiled and moved off to join the line.
Hart was taken aback by the intimacy of the statement. No one ever spoke to him about having children, not even his own father. Their house would die with him. He would never marry. He saw no reason to risk growing attached to someone only to have them die on him, as well. And he always made certain to wear French letters during sex, ensuring he would not have children as a result of any of the liaisons he had. Leave it to an American to have a romantic view of life.
He stepped up to the machine. The Dowager stood in front of him with the string in her hand. ‘I knew you would enjoy this, Hartwick. You’ve been attracted to the thrill of danger since you were a small boy. Your grandmother could never understand the fascination you had with high places. Do you remember that? Do you remember how you would climb trees to the highest possible branch and how you would walk on the parapets of your home?’
He was surprised she remembered. ‘I do indeed. I also remember how my grandmother would shake her fist at me and demand I climb down immediately.’
‘You were all she had left after your mother died. She loved you very much and was afraid she would lose you, too. She wanted to protect you the only way she knew how.’
He tossed a lock of hair out of his eyes, uncomfortable with the mention of his mother. He always tried to keep those memories hidden away where they couldn’t see the light of day. Remembering the care and affection she had showered on him was painful. He’d been a small child when she’d fallen to her death from that cliff, forcing him to fend for himself in a home where he was completely ignored by his other parent. And if his grandmother had loved him that much, she would have taken him away from the hellish home where he’d grown up.
Miss Forrester interrupted his thoughts when she took her place beside him.
‘Are you all ready, my dear?’ the Dowager asked her.
Miss Forrester nodded with an eager expression.
‘Take her hand, Hartwick,’ the Dowager instructed.
Her hand was delicate with long, graceful fingers and fine bones. It was the kind of hand you held softly so as not to crush it in your grip. He wrapped his fingers around her warm palm and his skin tingled upon contact. Thinking it must have been the Dowager’s electricity machine giving off a current, he glanced at it and realised he was not yet holding the string in his other hand.
She must have felt the same odd sensation as well, because her eyes also were on the Dowager’s machine. Then the delicate hand that he was afraid he would crush gripped his with a strong, firm hold.
An Unexpected Countess Page 6