Her friend smiled at him and watched her husband cross the room once more. ‘Men are such strange creatures.’
Sarah couldn’t agree more. Was Hart trying to get her all flustered? She shouldn’t be thinking about last night. Not here. Not now.
It was almost time to begin the evening’s entertainments and Sarah’s mother and the Dowager Duchess joined them by the door.
Her mother eyed her with concern. ‘You look flushed.’
Oh, lud! She should just avoid Hart completely from now on. ‘It’s warm in here. That’s all.’
‘You haven’t been yourself all day. I hope you have not caught something.’
Something. Someone. It was semantics at this point.
‘I told you. It’s warm in here.’
‘Perhaps you should get some air on the terrace,’ the Dowager suggested.
‘I’ll go with you,’ her mother offered, taking a step forward.
‘Let her be,’ the Dowager countered. ‘We will keep a seat for you with us in the back row so no one notices when you return, my dear.’
‘You’re only suggesting we sit back there because you’re planning on falling asleep during this performance and you don’t want anyone to see,’ her mother said through a smile.
‘That’s true, but we don’t have to let the entire room know that. Do go on, Miss Forrester. Enjoy the quiet while you can.’
Sarah could feel the heat radiating off her skin. If she walked past Hart now, she was sure everyone would know what had happened between them last night. She would escape to the terrace from the ballroom. Excusing herself, she made her way out of the drawing room just as an announcement was made for everyone to move to the music room.
The ballroom was located in the next room, so she didn’t have to walk through crowds of people to get inside. The room was vacant and her faint footsteps were the only thing to break the silence—that was until the sound of heavy footsteps behind her made her turn around. With the bluish light from the full moon streaming in through the windows and doors, she spotted Lord Blackwood walking slowly towards her.
‘Miss Forrester, I had no idea you favoured empty ballrooms, as well. If I’d known you were here, I would have ventured into this room sooner,’ he said, giving her a polite smile.
‘I just walked in, but I’m sure you’re aware of that.’
She hadn’t seen him since she arrived and had been grateful for his absence. She knew Hart had gone to see him after finding out that he’d approached her in the park. Whatever Hart had said to him that day had prompted Blackwood to reveal the truth that had devastated him. She was not feeling very cordial at the moment.
‘You have found me out,’ Lord Blackwood said, adjusting his cuff. ‘I admit I followed you in here. What a lovely sight you are, much better than any of the others in attendance this evening.’
His constant comments about her appearance were becoming irksome. ‘I am not one to fall for false flattery, my lord. And you should know better than to place yourself with a lady when no one else is about.’
A sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘I do adore your forthright nature. I think I would enjoy taming that spirit of yours.’
‘With one breath you say you adore it and the next you say you want to tame it. What makes you believe I want to change?’ she replied, lifting her chin.
He took a predatory step closer and Sarah held her ground, refusing to show that she found him intimidating. A cold sweat travelled along her body.
‘I assure you,’ he drawled, ‘one can find pleasure in pain.’
He was talking nonsense and she resented the small smile that curved his lips when she felt her brows wrinkle at his comment. His tall stature blocked her view and made her feel as if the walls were closing in on them. She was foolish to have entered this ballroom alone when it was empty. It was all her fault that someone could come in at any minute and assume the worst.
‘Excuse me, my lord, but I should return to my parents and the evening’s entertainments.’ She went to walk past him and he grabbed her arm.
‘I can provide you with entertainment here. There is no need to return just yet.’
She looked down to where his fingers were pressing into her arm. ‘Please remove your hand.’
‘You’re a rather tempting woman. Has anyone told you that before?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘I will ask you again to remove your hand.’
He took another step closer and she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. His other hand firmly cupped the back of her neck and he forcefully smashed his lips into hers. There was nowhere to go with his substantial size in front of her bearing down. She remembered something Alexander had taught her years ago and she lifted her knee and slammed it into his groin.
His fingers released their grip as he doubled over. ‘You bitch!’ he ground out.
‘If stopping you from kissing me makes me so, then I suppose I am. Think about that the next time you try to lay a hand on me.’ With trembling hands, she rushed to the door.
* * *
She was a few feet out of the room when Hart flung open the terrace door, charged across the ballroom and tackled the unsuspecting man to the ground. With Hart’s first blow to the jaw, the right side of Blackwood’s face slammed into the parquet floor.
‘I told you to stay away from her,’ he ground out, landing a second punch.
Blackwood seemed to come to his senses before Hart threw the third punch. He tried to push Hart off, but he was straddling the man’s knees. He tried to hit Hart’s face, but Hart blocked him and threw another punch. Hart pounded into him several more times, each time successfully blocking the man’s counterpunches, until he grabbed Blackwood by the throat with both hands and squeezed with all his might.
Blackwood’s eyes were bulging and he worked furiously to break Hart’s grip. His mouth was open in a silent scream or an unsuccessful gasp for air. Hart could kill him right now. All he had to do was keep squeezing and the man would be dead. It was what he had wanted since he was a boy. One more minute and it would be over.
‘A man’s worth is measured by what he has made of himself—what he stands for—how he decides to conduct his own life.’
It was Sarah’s voice he heard in his head. Could he kill someone, no matter how repulsive they were? Is that the kind of man she thought he was?
He released his grip and stood, kicking Blackwood’s legs aside.
‘I am better than this. I am better than you.’ The words came out clipped with clear distinction, assuring Blackwood heard them over his wheezing and gasping for breath.
‘For the last time, I want you to stay away from Miss Forrester.’ He clenched his hands at his side to restrain himself from choking the man again.
Slowly Blackwood staggered to his feet, wiping the trail of blood from his split lip. There was fire in his bloodshot eyes—fire and venom. ‘What you want doesn’t matter to me. It never has.’
They had lived apart for years. Why was this man still obsessed with destroying him? Suddenly it came to him.
‘But that’s not true, is it? What I want matters so much that you’ve tried to destroy anything I hold dear. That is your weakness,’ he spat out. ‘I am proof of your weakness. Yesterday I wondered why you never cast my mother out the way other members of the ton have done when faced with a similar situation. I couldn’t understand why you didn’t send her to the continent to deliver me and arrange to have another family take me in and raise me as their own. Devonshire did that to Georgiana. Why didn’t you do the same?’
Hart raised his chin. ‘Now I know. You’re ashamed of my existence because it reminds you that my mother refused to push your indiscretions aside and did not crumble into a ball when you rejected her. Some man took a liking to her. And he took what was yours and you don’t k
now who he is. If you banished her, you knew word would eventually get out and everyone would know. Your pride could not endure the humiliation. And it is humiliating to know you were a cuckold. Isn’t it?’
Blackwood was breathing heavily like a dragon about to shoot flames. Hart wasn’t afraid. He knew how to destroy him now.
‘But worst of all, you know the man who had your wife could be anyone. You know that someone here knows your secret and it is killing you that they are laughing at you behind your back.’
‘Do not assume to know me.’
‘But I do. I lived with you. I watched you. I know what you have done to try to destroy me in order to feel better about yourself. Stay out of my life. Do not attempt to approach Miss Forrester or her family or anyone else in my circle. If you do, I will shout about my parentage from the rooftops of London. It matters not to me. My reputation is not pristine and I would welcome the public separation from you. I would rather be known as a bastard than as your son.’
They stared at one another, their chests rising and falling with angry breaths.
‘I am done with you,’ Blackwood finally said.
‘It’s about time! Perhaps I’ll sell off your family estates or carelessly lose them in card games when you’re gone. You thought to hurt me with all you have done. The pain you have caused me has made me stronger and now I can do much worse.’
Blackwood lunged at him as two footmen entered the ballroom and pulled them apart.
‘My lords, please.’
Blackwood tugged his arm free of the footman holding him and glared at Hart before storming off towards the French doors that led to the garden and the mews beyond. It was just as well he left that way. His bloodied presence at the Everills’ musicale would have been the talk of the ton for weeks.
Checking his appearance in a nearby gilded mirror, Hart tossed that lock of hair out of his eyes. It was surprising he couldn’t see any blood on his clothes. The fact that he was in his customary all-black attire probably helped.
He needed brandy and it didn’t take much persuasion to have one of the footmen fetch it for him. It wasn’t the finest he had ever tasted. Heaven knows it wasn’t from the year of the comet, but it would do.
The strains of a violin drifting down the hall told him how to find the music room. It was brightly lit with numerous candelabras on gilded stands and an enormous crystal chandelier above. Apparently Lady Everill was proud of this room and wanted to make certain everyone could see all the details, from its cream-coloured walls with gilded trim to the ornate gilded plaster images of various musical instruments in each of the four corners of the ceiling.
From the doorway, he scanned the room, searching for a vacant seat. Julian’s grandmother was seated in the last row immediately to his left and had just removed her reticule from the chair next to her. He leaned down close to her ear. ‘Is that seat taken, Your Grace?’
She looked up at him. ‘No, my boy,’ she replied before covering her mouth with a yawn. ‘But here, let me sit at the end of the row.’ She moved, allowing him to take the seat she had vacated.
As they settled into their chairs, he noticed Lady Everill sitting directly in front of him. He leaned over to the Dowager. ‘What is her ladyship doing all the way back here?’ he whispered.
‘She never stops talking,’ she whispered back, ‘and Mr Ebsworth refuses to sing here if she sits in the front. Poor Mrs Forrester, I assume she wishes she were deaf in her right ear about now. I don’t believe Lady Everill has stopped talking to her since they sat down.’
To Lady Everill’s left sat Mrs Forrester with her brown hair done up fashionably with emerald-studded combs. He restrained himself from looking for Sarah. The Dowager was too observant. She would notice.
‘I see you brought your own way of enduring this evening’s performance,’ the Dowager whispered, gesturing to his glass of brandy and interrupting his thoughts about Sarah lying under him by the fire.
When he held his glass out to her, she patted her blue silk reticule that rested on her lap. ‘Oh, I came prepared. I have a flask of gin with me. I find it goes surprisingly well with most punches served.’
He started to chuckle, but managed to turn it into a cough.
The Dowager let out a delicate yawn while covering her lips. ‘Dear boy, I am much too delicate to snore, however, if I do so, please give me a nudge.’
He nodded with a smile and took a sip of brandy. Sitting back in his chair, he swirled the warm liquid fire with his tongue and looked over to his left.
And almost spat his brandy on Sarah.
Inches away from him, she was staring at him as if she couldn’t believe how long it was taking him to realise he was sitting next to her. He looked back at the Dowager who was sitting upright with her eyes closed. Could one really fall asleep sitting up?
Sarah leaned over, the faint smell of lilacs drifted on the air. It reminded him of the way her room smelled when he first walked into it a few nights ago. He never realised how much he liked the smell.
‘She does that a lot,’ Sarah whispered. ‘It’s why we are sitting back here.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if she is indeed awake and straining to hear what we are saying to one another at the moment.’
Sarah leaned past him and eyed the Dowager. ‘No. I truly believe she is asleep. Do you really think she is sly enough to even out her breathing to support such a hoax?’
It was true. The woman’s breathing was rhythmic, but he still wasn’t convinced. He leaned closer to Sarah, pressing the side of his leg against her thigh. The heat from their bodies spread to his groin. Damn, it was impossible to be near her now without touching her. He needed to stop thinking about how incredible she looked lying naked on her rug or how it felt when he was inside her. He needed a distraction. Thankfully he had his brandy. Except the drink made him recall why he needed it and Sarah’s encounter with his father.
He placed his lips near her ear. ‘How are you faring after your encounter in the ballroom?’
Her shoulders stiffened. ‘How do you know...?’
‘I was out on the terrace and witnessed you bring him to his knees. Remind me not to anger you in the future.’
‘You were out on the terrace?’
‘I was. I hadn’t realised it was you with him until you kneed him and stormed out.’
She leaned past him and eyed the sleeping Dowager before pursing her lips together in a thin line. ‘He deserved that.’
‘He did. I can assure you he will not be approaching you again.’
‘Yes, I believe he understood my warning.’
He combed the lock of hair away from his eyes with his fingers. ‘No, I spoke with him.’
Her eyes widened. ‘What did you say?’
‘I made certain he is aware, should he approach you again, that I will tell the world about my parentage. He is ashamed of my mother’s affair. His pride is too great and could not withstand the derision were the world to know. Do not worry, he will never harm you.’ He caressed the hand that was hanging down between their chairs and hooked his little finger around hers, confident that with the wall behind them no one would see.
She leaned her head towards his and kept her voice to a faint whisper. ‘When you left last night we agreed that was the last time you and I would give in to this attraction between us, yet tonight you decided it was appropriate to flirt shamelessly with me in front of our friends. You need to stop doing that.’
He wasn’t about to point out that she currently had her finger wrapped around his during a very public musicale. It was a pleasurable, affectionate gesture and he didn’t want it to end. And no one could see them. Perhaps it was the danger of getting caught with their secret that made flirting and touching her in public all the more enticing. ‘Do I need to remind you that you did indeed flirt back?’
‘Perhaps I wished to remind you of last night.’
‘There is no need to remind me. It is seared into my brain.’
He really did adore the way she spoke her mind. If he wasn’t careful, it would be his downfall. ‘I shall be reliving last night when I close my eyes for the final time.’
She squeezed his finger hard. ‘Stop flirting with me.’
‘Why? No one can hear. And you have to admit it is much more entertaining than this musicale.’
She pursed her lips together to try to hold back a smile.
‘Very well,’ he said begrudgingly, knowing she was right. ‘It’s probably wise for us to grow accustomed to conversing in front of others the way we did before. I vow to behave myself from now on.’
She eyed him as if she wasn’t certain he could comply. He would prove to her that he could. There had been times he had resisted his passionate urges with other women. This should be no different. He had no desire to get married, to fall in love with someone and become dependent on them for his happiness. In addition, Sarah had stated quite plainly last night she had no wish to marry him and he knew she always spoke her mind. An affair with the unmarried daughter of the American Minister was out of the question. This needed to end now.
But as they sat there listening to Mr Ebsworth sing, their fingers were still locked in the only embrace they could manage.
There was a break in the programme while the musicians changed their sheet music and Mr Ebsworth approached the side of the pianoforte. The murmur of voices around them was at a low hum, yet they were content to sit silently beside one another. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, Sarah would accuse him of flirting with her—which, at the moment, he most likely would.
The voice of Lady Everill rose above the others. ‘They did not take this long to remove a link from the bracelet. I do not know what is taking them so long to fix the clasp on it.’
An Unexpected Countess Page 18