“We shall call on you soon,” Prescott said with a small smile. “To ensure you’re recovered from last evening’s events.”
She flushed again at the double entendre, but hoped neither of the other women picked up on it. They hadn’t discussed what happened next, not when she could see them again or how they’d all manage to sneak somewhere private to…to…enjoy each other again.
Sarina swallowed hard and returned her attention to her cousins. Still confused at their abruptness, she said, “Is everything all right? Why were you so brusque with them? They saved me last night.”
“I’m sorry, Sarina,” Henrietta murmured as she rang for more tea. “But we have terrible news. Your aunt Georgiana had gone to Kingsnorth last eve as well, unbeknownst to us. She perished in the fires.”
Stunned, Sarina looked from Henrietta to Maryanne and back again. “What?” she managed. “Why was Aunt Georgiana there? Why hadn’t she said anything? How…”
Why hadn’t Georgiana said she’d planned to travel to Kingsnorth before Sarina left? They could’ve traveled together.
She shook her head and sank onto the sofa, numb and dazed. The maid came in with more tea, but her stomach churned nastily and she shook her head. “Oh heavens,” Sarina said. Her head shot up and she looked at both cousins, who looked drawn and sick themselves. “What will Oliver do now?”
“Without Georgiana and her money,” Maryanne said quietly but no less firmly for that quietness, “my brother’s estate won’t survive. We must support him.” She looked hard at Sarina and said, “Being Georgiana’s heir, you’ll have to marry Oliver.”
Chapter Seven
“No!” The word shot from Sarina before she could stop it.
Henrietta and Maryanne gave her identical disbelieving looks and she rushed to think of something more to say. She could not marry Oliver. Not now.
“I’ve decided to choose between Sinclair and Trevelyan,” she added, her voice cracking only slightly. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“It’s no longer what makes you happy, Sarina,” Maryanne said with a quick flick of her wrist. “It’s now an obligation to this family. You are our third cousin; you must understand that we cannot allow the loss of Hawksmoor. For Oliver to lose his estate, for…” She didn’t mention that scandalous word bankruptcy, but Sarina knew that was what Maryanne meant. “It’d be a stain on all of us.”
Henrietta, her eyes bright for the first time since Sarina had entered, turned to her sister. “Maryanne, perhaps we can find another way. If Sarina has—”
But Maryanne shook her head sharply and shot Sarina a hard look. “There is no other way. We’ve discussed this ad nauseam these last months. Georgiana’s fortune was the answer; her fortune would fund the estate—restore the Hawksmoor name to its full glory. We cannot let it collapse.” Maryanne again shook her head adamantly. “No. We can’t let Oliver sell more land or”—and here she shuddered—“heaven forbid, sell the manor house.”
“I understand that.” Yes, she did understand. But panic clawed within her at Maryanne’s implication, and she struggled for air. She’d finally had what she wanted; she’d accepted the two men she loved and could have them, truly have them. They had literally just promised her they’d find a way to be together, all three of them.
She took in a deep breath, choked down the words she wanted to say, the vehement denial, the declaration that she loved both Prescott and Liam. With her fingers curled tightly in her dress skirts, Sarina took another moment to compose herself before speaking.
“Perhaps,” Sarina said quietly, the beginnings of a headache brewing behind her eyes, “there’s a way I can pass the fortune to Oliver without marrying him.”
It was a desperate thought, but perhaps there was a possibility. And at the moment she was desperate—no other news they’d given her could’ve knocked the wind out of her with more force. All she’d wanted had been within her reach and now, without warning, had been ripped away.
Sarina had no idea if transferring her sudden inheritance was at all possible, and perhaps she clutched at straws, but there had to be a way. “Everyone knew Aunt Georgiana planned to marry Oliver—it wouldn’t be all that unusual.”
But, no, it would be unusual simply to give him the money necessary to run his estate without marrying him, she supposed, but there had to be a way. A loan he’d never have to pay back? She could do that, certainly. Her headache expanded and she poured herself a cup of tea, suddenly desperate to feel its warmth. Her fingers shook, but only slightly, as her mind raced for a way out of marrying Oliver.
“Aunt Georgiana was a difficult woman,” Sarina said and sipped her tea. “But she wasn’t without a sense of familial obligation. It would certainly make sense she’d want Oliver to have the money.”
“I’m sorry, Sarina,” Henrietta said sadly. “But you can’t simply hand over the fortune. You wouldn’t have the right to, not unless he was your husband.”
Meeting her cousin’s gaze, Sarina wanted to ask about a very large loan to Oliver that he would be under no obligation to repay, but swallowed her words. She didn’t know what inheriting Georgiana’s money entailed, had never bothered to look into it. Honestly, she’d never thought Georgiana would die so young or unmarried. Sarina had her own small inheritance and had never even considered the possibility of Georgiana’s money as well.
Or Georgiana’s fiancé.
She rubbed her forehead for a heartbeat and set down her now cold teacup. Sarina looked from Henrietta’s sad gaze to Maryanne’s determined one. No, she was honor bound to go through with Georgiana’s marriage obligation. To be fair, she shouldn’t look at marriage to Oliver as honor bound—she liked him well enough, but her heart belonged to others.
Swallowing, the taste of tea like bitter ash in her mouth, Sarina stood. “If you’ll excuse me,” she murmured.
Before Maryanne voiced the denial that so obviously hovered on the tip of her tongue, Sarina turned and left the parlor. Behind her, she heard Henrietta admonish her sister for pushing too hard and too fast. Thankfully, Sarina fled before she heard Maryanne’s reply.
Feeling ill, the tea roiling in her stomach, Sarina escaped up the steps for the relative safety of her room. Henrietta and Maryanne had done nothing but push her toward Oliver, all thoughts of either Liam and Prescott or Lord Strathmore gone in the wake of Georgiana’s death.
Perhaps this was her punishment. Punishment in the wake of what she’d done after the fire with both men. No, she was being foolish to view it that way. The Kingsnorth fire was a tragedy she wished had never happened, but it wasn’t a punishment for anyone.
Numb at these new revelations, Sarina wondered how her life had so changed in less than a day. From the whirlwind of Liam and Prescott and all they offered her, to Oliver. Dizzy and sickened, she tried to work through this new path her life now seemed to be on, but could not force her mind to calm enough to formulate a plan. Her thoughts raced in circles, only adding to her nausea.
What had her aunt been doing there? And why hadn’t she said anything about her plans? Sarina had seen her only the other day and Georgiana had not mentioned a word of going to Kingsnorth.
And now, with Georgiana dead, all Maryanne and Henrietta spoke of was her impending marriage to Oliver Ackerman, Earl of Hawksmoor. Could they not have waited several days before cornering her with this latest development? They had yet to bury Georgiana, and already Henrietta and Maryanne had pounced with the news she was now required to marry Oliver.
Oh, if only she had chosen either man before the fair. If she had, if she’d made her intentions known, there would’ve been nothing either cousin could’ve said or done. But perhaps that was exactly why they’d pounced so soon after her return from Kingsnorth.
Her cousins had always been about making plans, making sure everything was set to rights. It shouldn’t surprise her that their first thoughts were protecting Oliver—not her. She was merely the sacrificial lamb. But why did it have to be now? Sarina d
esperately wished she’d had more time with Prescott and Liam and the newness of their relationship.
Or would that have made things harder? Sarina didn’t know.
Sarina slammed her bedroom door behind her and didn’t care that the sound reverberated through the upstairs. Anger beat through her veins in time to her heartbeat—anger at her cousins for pushing so hard so soon after a tragedy. Anger at herself for waiting. Waiting too long to choose between the men she loved, thinking she had so much time and even willing to marry another when she couldn’t decide on which to choose.
Mostly, she was angry at Georgiana. What had she been doing in Kingsnorth?
Sarina sighed. She couldn’t really be angry for that, for Georgiana not divulging her plans. Perhaps she’d merely wished to surprise Sarina at the fair and had been trapped when the fire broke out.
She wanted to scream but refused to let her cousins, or indeed the rest of the household, know of her feelings. Sarina pressed her palms together harder and harder until her fingers turned white from the pressure. She’d been so happy, more than she’d ever conceived, when Liam and Prescott convinced her that it truly was possible for all three of them to be together.
Oliver was a good friend—slightly acerbic in his observations, but witty. She’d just never considered marriage to him.
Especially after her night with Prescott and Liam.
Sarina stood by her window, her hands tangled together as she tried to reason a way out of her now-impending nuptials. She’d vacillated for months between the two men, had all but decided to marry another, when she’d succumbed to her love for them and given her body to both. Sarina had no regrets, not in showing both Liam and Prescott how she felt for them.
But, oh, she was no blushing virgin waiting to go to Oliver’s bed.
She whirled from the window and paced the length of her room. Her mind raced with possibilities, but all she focused on was the fact that now she truly would have to marry another.
What if she declined? What if she refused to marry Oliver? Her cousins couldn’t force her.
As devastating as the fire had been to Kingsnorth, that fire had changed everything. Georgiana had taken a long time to marry Oliver. But after her sojourn to Italy, she’d returned more than ready to become a countess.
Sarina licked her lips, only then realizing she cried. Furious with herself, she wiped at her cheeks and tried to push Liam and Prescott to the background. It was no use. Breathing deeply, she searched for a handkerchief and hastily wiped her face.
Yes, the fire had changed everything. Last night had changed everything. And now she was faced with an unwanted marriage to Oliver. She’d heard whispers, titters behind fans, about Oliver’s prowess in bed, but had dismissed them as unimportant.
The thought left her cold; despite his supposed accomplishments in the bedroom, the very idea of sleeping with him made Sarina sick.
She wanted to feel Liam moving within her, Prescott’s mouth on her as her desire climbed higher. She wanted to feel them surrounding her, their hands and mouths on her. And though the thought made her flush, she wanted to taste them, feel their skin beneath her fingertips, beneath her tongue.
Another tear slipped past her weakening control and she drew in a shuddering breath. Was she accepting this too fast, this marriage to Oliver? Was she accepting it? Did she have a choice in it? Could she let her family down so horribly by not marrying Oliver?
Lydia, her maid, quietly entered.
“How did you get out of Kingsnorth?” Sarina asked, so grateful Lydia was alive that she hugged the girl.
“Oh, I was out on the Thames,” Lydia said with a sad smile. “Soon as I saw the fire, I ran. Didn’t see any of the family,” she added. “A nice woman, alone in the carriage, was kind enough to let me and a couple other maids ride with her.”
“What was her name?” Sarina asked, turning for Lydia to undo her gown. “I’ll send round a note thanking her.”
“Mrs. Rayleigh,” Lydia said.
Sarina nodded and made a note to find the woman who had saved her maid. Most people wouldn’t have bothered, and Sarina was indebted to the other woman.
“This one’s gone,” Lydia said, holding out the gown. “What happened to you? You didn’t come home with Mrs. Henrietta and Mrs. Maryanne.”
“No.” Sarina sighed.
She told her lady’s maid a very abbreviated version of last night’s events, but left out the part about Georgiana. And Oliver. Lydia would hear that particular news soon enough, Sarina was certain. And right now she hadn’t the energy to discuss that situation any further.
Lydia knew her well and knew she held something back, but didn’t push and simply brushed her hair, promising to send up tea. Sarina nodded but didn’t particularly want any. What she wanted was sleep. But even as exhaustion tugged her sore body, her mind refused to quiet.
The knock on the door startled Sarina and with another smile, she dismissed Lydia. Henrietta stood on the other side of the door.
“Are you all right?” Henrietta asked.
This time, Sarina knew it wasn’t over the fire at Kingsnorth, but the news about Georgiana. Meeting her cousin’s gaze, she admitted matter-of-factly, “I’m very far from all right. I don’t want to marry Oliver.”
“I know, dearest.” Henrietta sighed and moved closer. She looked like she wanted to hug Sarina, but kept her distance. “But there’s no other alternative I can see. You told me you wanted to move on from the two of them; that’s why we arranged the meeting with Lord Strathmore.”
“The events of last eve,” she started carefully, “have come to make me understand—”
“You have to put that out of your mind, Sarina.” Henrietta sounded firm now, so unlike the romantic cousin Sarina knew. “You have to forget them. This is the way of life, dearest. And while I’d like to coddle you, I cannot.”
Meeting her gaze, Sarina nodded shortly. “Between you and Maryanne, I thought that you would at least be a sympathetic ear.”
Her gaze softened for a heartbeat before she shook her head. “I don’t want to be a sympathetic ear. If I were, you could become emboldened and run off with one of them. We can’t have that. You must meet your obligations.”
Run off…she should have thought of that before. Alas, it was far too late now.
“And it’s not so horrible an obligation, Sarina,” Henrietta continued. “You’ll be a countess! Plus, you and Oliver have got on quite well, from what I recall.”
Sarina said nothing. She liked Oliver well enough; he was witty and kind and had been a great support upon her brother’s death. But she didn’t want to marry him, earldom or not.
“Unlike many,” she said with more bite than she thought she had left in her, “I don’t need to aspire to a loftier position in society. What I need is the companionship of someone I love.”
Henrietta reached out and patted her hand. Sarina cringed at the placating touch from the cousin who once pushed her to marry for love. But she didn’t pull back and merely watched the other woman, though not calmly, as there was no calmness in her. Sarina hoped she banked her feelings enough so as not to arouse Henrietta’s suspicions.
If she knew, or even suspected, what happened last night—between Sarina and either Prescott or Liam, let alone both—Henrietta might not make this demand of her. No, Sarina suspected she’d be all too willing to sweep it as under the rug as possible and push her to marry Oliver regardless of her less than chaste state.
“You’ll grow to have a deep regard for Oliver. And someday,” Henrietta added with a smile, “perhaps not too far in the future, you may grow to love him.”
Sarina held her tongue and only nodded when Henrietta left without another word. As the door closed behind her cousin, Sarina knew she’d never not love Liam and Prescott.
Chapter Eight
Sarina woke, still a little sore, still a little sluggish, but it was already late and she’d missed breakfast. She hadn’t slept well and had tossed and turn
ed all night, only falling into a deep sleep just as the sun rose.
Stretching, she burrowed deeper beneath the covers and tried for another few moments’ sleep. But already her mind raced once more with her problem. She could safely dismiss Lord Strathmore from her life, she supposed.
That still left three men: Oliver and her two lovers. Sarina wanted more than anything to follow her heart, but she’d never been a flighty girl. She had always put things in the proper perspective and understood family obligation all too well. If she was completely honest with herself over this situation, Sarina knew the rationale behind her cousins’ request was sound.
Her marriage to Oliver was appropriate in Georgiana’s absence—Hawksmoor needed the funds, needed that money to survive. And for her family, that survival meant everything. But for once in her life, Sarina didn’t want to look at things practically or reasonably.
No, she wanted to be that carefree, careless woman who thought of nothing save her own happiness. Damn the consequences. It had only been one day. One day had made all the difference between being able to let Prescott and Liam go…and not. How could this be? Was this a punishment for being with both men?
It wasn’t possible to let them go now. Tears pricked her eyes and she felt sick to her stomach as the weight of her choice landed hard on her shoulders. Sarina didn’t want to forget them or put them aside. She wanted to be with them.
She turned over and sought out a cool spot on her pillow. Her head started to pound again with her whirlwind thoughts. It was too much; too many people needed her to marry Oliver. But, oh, she didn’t want to.
Maybe, just maybe, there was another way. There had to be.
Sarina refused to allow the situation to stifle her or paralyze her. She needed to put it into perspective. She snorted in derision and sat up, the faint chill of the room doing little to dispel her headache. Lydia had been in earlier to start the fire, and a tea tray sat by the window, cold now.
Lady's Temptations: A Winter's Regency Menage Page 6