“Good!” she exclaimed, her ice-blue eyes brighter than usual. “Then you’ll have a very good reason to be civil to William. He is always excessively cordial to the husbands.”
“Oh, is he?” Perce pushed back his chair and stood up. “I’ve been here long enough. I want to get to the embassy before noon.” He took out his card case and a small gold pencil, scribbled his address on the card, and left it on the table. “I suppose you have a raft of invitations. Let me know what time to pick you up or where to meet you.”
Sabrina was startled by his sudden action, at a loss for how to respond. Then it was too late. He was out of the room, asking the servant to send for his horse. After that she heard nothing and knew he had been taken back to the reception room where he would dress for the outdoors again. Sabrina could catch him before he left, but what was there to say? Had he been offended by what she had asked of him? He hadn’t looked or sounded angry, just hurried.
A silvery chime sounded behind Sabrina, and she realized Perce had been facing the clock. That was certainly a reason for what he had done, but she remained uneasy.
Had he run away because he felt her pretense of infatuation would be painful? Would it be all pretense? Sabrina again felt that tingling excitement she had experienced when she touched him.
It was ridiculous! She had known Perce for more than ten years. Was it just because he had said he loved her? Would she respond in the same way to any man just because William was off on the hunt again? That was ridiculous, too. She had had offers enough in Vienna and hadn’t responded. It wasn’t really the same, though. In Vienna she had still been thinking in terms of keeping William faithful. Sabrina sighed with exasperation. Life was always so complicated. It was bad enough to have to decide whether she could bear to continue living with William now that she knew she no longer loved him—if, indeed, she had ever loved him. To add the problem of Perce and what to do about him on top of the other was the outside of enough.
Nonetheless she felt surprisingly cheerful, not weighted any longer with a burden of depression. She moved to her sitting room and began to examine the invitations for that day with absorbed interest. Often William chose where they would go. Sabrina had always acquiesced in the past because she had never cared which function they attended or whose box they shared for the opera or ballet. She had assumed that William’s choices, when he did not ask her to choose, were based on political considerations. Now it was more likely that William’s choice would be dictated by which function his light of love was going to attend.
Well then, let him go there. Unless it was, coincidentally, the affair Sabrina had chosen, he could go alone. She chuckled wickedly. So William wanted to find her a cavalier servente, did he? Doubtless he intended Perce to accompany both of them to the places he had selected; that would make Perce a friend of his as well as of Sabrina’s. William was about to get a rude surprise. Having found an escort for her and having probably told—or being about, to tell—the world that it was his choice, he would discover that he had freed her to do as she liked.
When he fled Sabrina’s breakfast parlor, Perce felt dizzy with confusion. There was one consolation in which he could take intense satisfaction—he had not lost Sabrina completely by the preceding night’s stupidity. She had apparently reasoned the incident through and come to the conclusion that he had not meant to insult her. It was just like Brina to say he wouldn’t have said such a stupid thing if he intended to seduce her. But did he intend to seduce her?
Shaking himself free of the too assiduous footmen, Perce made his way carefully down the stairs to where his horse was waiting for him. After his demonstrations of impatience with Russian ways, it would do his dignity no good if he slipped on an icy patch and fell down. This kept his mind occupied for the few minutes until he was mounted, but then his own embarrassing question resurfaced.
He was in no doubt that he wanted Sabrina for himself but on what terms was he willing to take her? The answer to that was easy—any terms at all. But that didn’t answer the initial question. Was he going to try to seduce her? The answer “any terms at all” implied Sabrina’s concurrence; seduction implied resistance or, at least, uncertainty on Sabrina’s part that he would have to overcome.
Perce did not like the implications in seduction. He wanted Sabrina very badly, but not if she were unwilling or if loving him would make her more unhappy. However, he wouldn’t mind overcoming a few religious scruples, if Sabrina had any, and he would overcome any concern for Elvan’s pride or feelings with enthusiasm. In fact, Sabrina seemed far too concerned with her husband’s welfare for Perce’s taste.
This brought a very unpleasant idea forward. He knew Sabrina would not use him deliberately, but could she be doing so without realizing or admitting to herself her real purpose? Could she be so hurt by Elvan’s promiscuity that she had convinced herself she no longer cared for him when she really did care? Could all her talk about wishing to retain the interest and excitement of being a diplomatic wife be only an excuse to continue the marriage when her pride told her to be rid of her husband? Could this notion of giving Elvan a taste of his own, medicine be a device to win him back by making him jealous?
But Sabrina had said she could have stopped the affair, that she had stopped him in the past. In that case, she really was sick of Elvan, so perhaps she would not be unwilling. Perce found that his breathing had quickened. It seemed to him that Sabrina had been looking at him with an unusual intentness, as if his features had somehow changed. He remembered vividly how, after looking at her with affectionate indifference for years, he had suddenly, too late, realized how beautiful she was. Well she certainly wouldn’t find him beautiful, soon or late. Damn Elvan, he was extremely handsome. But Sabrina’s intentness might mean something.
Surely it might mean she was worried about him. She had said he looked dreadful. That was rather flattening to the spirit if one believed that beauty was in the eye of the beholder, but Perce cheered up again when he remembered how she had touched his hand and reacted as if she were burnt. He had felt burnt himself. He had looked at his hand, surprised that it was not marked by the flash of heat he had felt. And the way Sabrina had blushed. Perce could not remember Sabrina ever blushing when she talked to him before. Quite uplifted he went into the British embassy and asked for Lord Elvan.
Chapter Five
Politically, life in Russia apparently came to a standstill in the last weeks of January and the first of February. The tsar seemed to have been paralyzed by the horror and defeat of Austerlitz. He did not wish to make scapegoats of his friends; indeed, that would only reflect badly on him in the end, for he should have known better than to listen “only to a few giddy-headed young men”, which was what his confidants Novosiltsov and Stroganov reported was being said. Those around him, his own mother included, urged him to cut himself loose from his ties to those who shared his disgrace.
Unable to go forward or back, Alexander did nothing. Although he came out of absolute seclusion, he seemed afraid to act in any way. It was apparent that Sabrina’s analysis had been wrong. Alexander might be immature, but he had been taught to revere power. Far from resenting an inferior Corsican corporal who had beaten him, Alexander feared Bonaparte. The tsar now desired only security, a place from which to watch and wait. He had no more interest in his old allies. Pressed to act, he would only say, “Let us remain totally passive and not make any move until the time when we are attacked on our own soil.” It was a dictum that reduced several of his more knowledgeable generals to tears.
Perce and Sabrina were grateful for the political limbo, though each felt an occasional twinge of conscience because prospects for the war against France were not bright. As diplomatic and intelligence personnel, they should have been distressed at the, rapidly dimming possibility of defeating Bonaparte. As patriotic English citizens, they should have been worried because England was again virtually alone against the greatest military power the world had ever seen. Both reminde
d themselves of this periodically, but personal concerns were far more significant to each. Thus it was a relief to know that political events did not require their attention.
The evening and the few days after Perce and Sabrina had breakfast together were very peculiar. Each was so confused, so undecided about what the other really felt that they met almost as strangers, but not complete strangers. It was as if two people had corresponded for years until each knew the other’s tastes and character with sureness, but had never met. Now, face-to-face, new aspects of each personality were exposed.
One laughable result of this relearning process was that, quite without meaning to, they gave the impression that William was lying or mistaken when he insisted they had been family acquaintances for years. Since William was not stupid, he was well aware of the winks and nods behind his back and the sympathetic sighs of certain ladies who would not be loath to comfort him. This infuriated him since he knew what he had said was true. During their courtship Sabrina had not always been the perfect young lady every time he called. He had seen her himself any number of times romping with Philip and Perce like a kitten with two puppies. He knew she regarded Lord Kevern as a brother. If she had not, she would never have permitted him to accompany her everywhere. Sabrina was always very careful that there be no hint of scandal about her. William knew he could have stopped her with a word, but he did not wish to. Just now, when he was about to seize his prize, it was very convenient that Kevern keep his wife occupied.
Totally unaware that she was accomplishing a purpose she had forgotten, Sabrina ignored the evidence that William was having a dose of his own medicine. Perce was peripherally aware, but he was more concerned with his interactions with Sabrina. Far from acting “easy” with each other, there was a shade of formality in their gestures and conversation for those first few days. By the end of January most of the awkwardness of their new relationship had been absorbed or smoothed away. Insensibly, they were drifting into a delicate courtship, erasing the last shreds of the brother-sister comradeship of the past.
Neither could remember ever being happier. The days flew by, glittering as much with joy as with ice. The political impasse did not, of course, affect the social scene. Theater parties followed sledge races, masquerades alternated with balls, and morning entertainments of promenade or a visit to the booths and exhibits that provided a daily fair on the frozen Neva filled any time not dedicated to dressing for more formal activities.
Thus far, Perce had not said a word of love, nor had Sabrina invited one. They seldom touched, except when dancing, seldom even looked at each other, yet each was becoming so sensitive to the other that presence alone was as exciting as a physical caress. The effects were most visible on Sabrina. The ice maiden was warming into a delicate fairy beauty, subtly inviting. A pale pink flushed her cheeks, deepening the blue of her eyes and making her moonlight hair more ethereal. Her mouth was softer, less guarded. Men who had admired her from a distance, accounting her exquisite but coldly unapproachable, drew near and began to court.
Sabrina turned playful, which might have had a disastrous effect on Perce, except for two considerations—it was he her eyes sought, touched and dropped away from when she laughed and talked to others. And it was always he who had the last dance so that if William had not come to the affair, she could ask him to order her furs and see her home. This did not discourage the others. Some took him for her lover and hoped to win her away, others had their own mistaken notions of English propriety. Lord Elvan had virtually said he had selected Lord Kevern to escort his wife while he spent his time as he preferred with Countess Latuski. Sabrina’s new approachability was associated not with Perce but with her knowledge of her husband’s activities. Kevern, many assumed, was Elvan’s watchdog, and they were careful in his presence.
Perce was also protected from jealousy by the delight Sabrina took in detailing the various overtures made to her and the dreadful accusations that were made about his strict surveillance of her behavior. They laughed heartily over that notion. Perce had his own bits to offer. Friends of those who desired Sabrina had become most attentive to him, proffering all kinds of invitations in the hope of distracting him from his watchdog activities. He accepted some of the invitations, warning Sabrina in advance so that she would accompany William on those afternoons or evenings, or else remain at home.
On the sixth of February, Perce told her he would not be able to escort her on the ninth. Sabrina was rather annoyed with him because she did not want to attend the dinner to which they were all invited that night. Perce would not change his plans, however. Partly that was for the reason he gave Sabrina—the dinner was being given by William’s inamorata, and Perce felt Sabrina should go without him to show she had nothing of which to be ashamed.
The other reason was more personal. Perce was finding it harder and harder to control his physical desire. He was, in fact, almost constantly in a state in which he feared that he would embarrass himself. Relief was imperative, but he did not wish to visit any of the whore houses to which he had been introduced by his military friends. For the night of the Latuski dinner, he had been invited to a private party—of a certain type—and he was determined to go.
It was most fortunate that Sabrina had no idea of the truth, or she would have been furious. Not that she was unaware that gentlemen without other outlets relieved their needs with paid companions or that she even disapproved of it in general. Philip had been more than usually prone to such activity before his marriage to Megaera and had made no particular effort to conceal his pleasures from her. Sabrina would have been furious because she was having problems of her own along the same lines, and she had no such convenient way of satisfying her needs.
Using William was out of the question. Sabrina had locked her door, against him as soon as he looked elsewhere. A man could be forgiven for paying whores when he had no woman of his own, but Sabrina had been available and willing. She would never accept another woman’s leavings, either emotional or sexual, no matter how great her need. Sabrina had discovered that, although women might be slower to arouse, they were just as sensual as men. William had awakened her sexuality and given her a strong taste for the pleasures of the bed. Unfortunately, Sabrina also found she needed to enjoy her partner to enjoy the act. Thus, even before he started to wander this last time, she had been less and less satisfied with William’s lovemaking.
Sabrina was well aware that she wanted a man and that the specific man who was arousing her was Perce. She was equally aware that he wanted her. On the few occasions when she caught him really looking at her rather than briefly meeting her glance and looking away, his eyes had a particular shiny glaze that she recognized. There were other signs she recognized too, a fulling of the lips, a certain tension that culminated sometimes in a rapid physical retreat. But Sabrina, once burned by thinking she was in love and finding herself with the wrong man, had grown cautious.
Was it love they both felt, or was it an attraction generated by William’s behavior and the suggestive propinquity into which they had been thrust? It was entirely possible that Perce had initially only wished to comfort her but had been stimulated into desire by the situation. Men, as Sabrina knew, caught fire easily. She also knew Perce would never cause her to suffer the rage and shame to which William had subjected her. Having committed himself to her, he would be utterly faithful—but at what cost?
He was the heir of Moreton and needed a son to succeed him. Of course he had two brothers—if Robert and Fred survived the war. Even so, was it fair to ask Perce to give up the future prospect of a wife and family? Only if she could obtain an annulment could she give him that, but perhaps even then she couldn’t. She had conceived only once, and then had miscarried. And what if Roger couldn’t obtain an annulment? Then there could be no marriage. It would be a high price to pay for love, and if itwere not love but only a wish to protect her magnified into desire, that would be a real tragedy. Sabrina knew she and Perce should be apart,
should have time to reconsider the emotion presently running away with them. However, he would not go unless she sent him away, and she could not bear to do it.
On the morning of February ninth Sabrina was reconsidering this problem, rather grateful that she would not see Perce at all that day. When she thought his name, a faint thrill ran through her, and she clucked her tongue aloud at herself. Sensations like that made her distrust herself. They were fine for a sixteen-year-old being courted by a Casanova like William. They were wrong for a woman of nineteen who had been rudely awakened from a dream of love by a sad experience. Another rude awakening—either because her infatuation had passed or because she discovered that her lover, however loving and faithful, was not in love with her—would not leave much of Sabrina de Conyers intact.
She smiled and shrugged when she realized she had reassumed her maiden name in her own mind. That was significant of how she felt about William, but she had not tried out Sabrina Moreton. Was that also significant? It was a triviality, but worrying. She thought about it and about Perce’s lands in Cornwall. She was sure she would love Cornwall. Philip’s and Megs descriptions made it sound fascinating, and they would come often to Bolliet if she were at Moreton Place. But it was ridiculous to dream of that. Roger might not be able to arrange an annulment. Divorce was possible, but then she would not be able to marry Perce. She might just as well stay married to William and take Perce as a lover. She shivered.
Even if Perce was truly in love now, how long could that last under the strains of an illicit relationship? And Sabrina knew she would hate it herself. Not to mention the horrible complication as soon as William noticed. He would begin to pursue her again. Sabrina closed her eyes and swallowed hard. The thought of such a dreadful situation had generated a physical nausea in her.
“Madame.”
Sabrina jumped, but it was only Sasha bending forward with a note on a salver. Sabrina took it eagerly. She had intended to stay at home today to bring some order to her emotions, but the paths along which her thoughts wandered were definitely unpleasant. If this were a last-minute invitation, she would be glad to accept its diversion. The speculation was cut off when she saw the handwriting. William! Why would William send her a note? She could only think that some business had interfered with his attending the Latuskis’ dinner that evening, and he handwritten to warn her of it. Fine! She would not mind missing that party at all. She opened the note without urgency, and the words leapt out at her:
The Kent Heiress Page 8