They’d never discovered why Georgiana had been in Kingsnorth. Or who, if anyone, she’d planned to meet there.
For several moments the only sound was the crunching stone beneath their feet. Sarina struggled for a nice, neutral topic of conversation to fill the awkward silence, but failed miserably. Her sensible side insisted on speaking about her supposed impending nuptials. Her newfound audacious side wanted to ignore the entire topic, leave Oliver right there, and sneak away to the West India Docks and meet Liam and Prescott.
She kept walking, her hand on Oliver’s arm, already knowing their walk was the gossip of the moment. Sarina resisted a sigh and kept her observations to herself.
“I take it your cousin didn’t tell you of this arranged meeting?” Oliver eventually asked, though his tone implied he already knew the answer to his question.
“No,” Sarina snapped, more forceful than she’d intended. She looked over her shoulder at her cousin, watching them with an eagle eye. “Lord Hawksmoor, it’s not an unpleasant meeting,” she added sincerely. “I’m always happy to speak with you, of course. But I dislike surprises.”
Oliver smiled, his blue eyes sparkling with shared laughter. The smile really did transform his face from hard and imposing to younger, easier going and fun. Sarina had to admit, she did enjoy making him smile, and they’d shared so many laughs over the time they’d known each other.
“As do I.” He paused, and when he spoke again his tone was less amused. Sarina braced herself for the conversation she’d thus far managed to avoid. “It’s a terrible thing, this business of being an earl which forces me to impose my company.”
Surprised, Sarina looked up at him and said honestly and before she thought it through, “Your company is never an imposition, Lord Hawksmoor. Please don’t take my comment as censure.”
He offered a slight smile, this one not reaching his eyes, and nodded as he looked ahead. “Then I shall not. May I ask you a delicate question, Miss Hunt?”
Her heart pounding in dread, Sarina nodded. She hated this position she’d been placed in, but couldn’t escape now.
“Are you still involved with either Mr. Sinclair or Mr. Trevelyan?” Oliver asked.
Sarina gave him full marks for his forthright questions. But then, he’d always been straightforward. She glanced up at him, but he looked down at her with that same guarded look she’d so often seen on him during balls and picnics. However, she’d never seen that look directed at her.
Anxiety churned unpleasantly in her stomach as she asked as coolly as she could manage, “What makes you ask that?”
“It’s my understanding,” Oliver began and only now did Sarina detect that same reservedness he used with others in his words. “You dismissed either of them as a potential suitor. Your cousin made it clear to me that you feared choosing one or the other, that it would destroy their friendship, and therefore have chosen neither.”
Sarina sucked in a deep breath, the cold air doing little to clear her mind. She knew this question, this implication, was coming but she’d been unprepared. She had no ready answer despite weeks of putting off both Henrietta and Maryanne, of evading their obvious pushes toward Oliver.
He hadn’t tried to make contact since that lone letter, a simple note expressing his sorrow at Georgiana’s death and a desire to speak with her soon. It hadn’t, as Sarina had originally feared, been a demand of some sort to set a date for their wedding. A silly fear, she knew now, given what she knew about Oliver.
“That was my intention,” she began slowly.
Oliver interrupted her. “Then perhaps you and I might find a future together? A measure of happiness?”
Sarina stumbled on the path but when Oliver tried to stop to face her, she pulled him along, desperate to continue walking. She had an unreasonable assumption that by walking, his words would take on a less immediate feel to them. Or maybe she simply couldn’t face him, not now. Not yet.
Practical Sarina warred with adventurous Sarina and left her floundering beneath Oliver’s very practical words.
“Sarina,” Oliver said, and the very fact he’d used her given name made her stomach clench, “I’ve never given my heart to any woman. I’ve given my dedication to my estate, to this thing that is Hawksmoor.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, but when she looked up she saw his mouth tighten. He didn’t look at her, but gazed to the distance. “It has forced me to seek out a particular alliance. However, I’m hoping this can be more than an alliance to save a family estate, a family honor.”
Swallowing hard, Sarina took a deep breath. “If only Aunt Georgiana had survived the fire, then things would be very different,” Sarina began, her tone far more wistful than she wanted. “She wanted to be a countess. She wanted,” Sarina added with a faint grin, “a great many things from this life.”
“But she did not survive,” Oliver said with the same pragmatism she’d always admired about him. “And for that I am truly sorry. Perhaps,” he added, his hand squeezing hers, “it’s too soon to speak of these things.”
Sarina could only nod despite her practical self’s desire to have this done with so she could concentrate on her future with Prescott and Liam. However, even her practical self knew that until and unless another way was found for Oliver, this matter between them would never be finished.
“Perhaps.” Sarina nodded.
She felt his gaze steady on her, but avoided his look. She didn’t want him to see through her defenses, to know what she kept hidden in her heart. She didn’t want to hurt him, not any more than he already had been.
“May I invite you, in the near future, up to Hawksmoor Manor?” Oliver asked, his tone neutral. Sarina’s heart broke a little more at the distance between them now. “I’d very much like for you to see it yourself. Perhaps there will come a time when you can see yourself there, as mistress.”
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, the knots in her stomach, she smiled up at him. “I’d love to see Hawksmoor Manor with you. At some point,” she added pointedly. “But I think right now I need to return to Henrietta. It was, as always, such a pleasure to speak with you, Lord Hawksmoor. I’m certain I’ll see you again, very soon.”
With that excuse, and a smile that felt strained, Sarina avoided Oliver’s gaze, ignored his bow, sketched a hasty curtsey in return, and fled.
Had it been a different point in her life, Sarina could’ve seen herself with Oliver. But right now, her pragmatic side was locked behind her need to see Liam and Prescott, a desire so intense she dared not ignore it. Oliver’s invitation to Hawksmoor Manor gave her an idea, and Sarina was determined to see it through.
It was so simple, she didn’t know how she hadn’t thought of it before, despite the madness of these last weeks. Henrietta still sat on the stone bench, watching Sarina’s journey away from Oliver. It was a simple enough matter to deflect her cousin’s questions, so long as she didn’t convey her anger at Henrietta for arranging such a meeting.
Right now, she needed to plan a house party in the country. Sarina didn’t care about the cold or the condition of the roads. She needed to see her lovers, and the simplest way to ensure the three of them were in the same place at the same time was to hold a party.
And she knew just the friend to arrange it.
Chapter Fourteen
Nerves danced along her skin as she carefully watched Lydia pull her hair back and secure it with a wide pearl and silver comb. Sarina had wanted a simple hairstyle tonight for the pre-Season ball she hadn’t had any trouble convincing her friend to spontaneously throw. In fact, Faith had been so excited to hold the party, Sarina wondered if she hadn’t an ulterior motive herself.
Blinking, she brought her attention back to Lydia’s movements. Simple hairdressing was imperative tonight if her plan was to succeed. And she was determined that it would; it’d been over a month since she’d last seen either Liam or Prescott. The letters she’d received from them indicated it was equally difficult on both of t
hem.
She’d half expected their letters to be salacious, but had been sorely disappointed. Then she’d wondered if it was only the new, daring side of her personality that wanted a scandalous letter from her lovers detailing their next meeting. Sarina had even begun her own letter to them with as many sexual innuendoes as she could, only to realize she didn’t know many.
That and she realized McGann had very carefully taken to giving her the letters from her lovers out of sight of Henrietta and Maryanne.
The sobering realization that the butler was on her side in whatever he believed to be going on between her and two suitors, not Lord Hawksmoor, and that her cousins would most definitely stoop to reading her mail, stopped Sarina from wanting a sexual-laden letter from either Prescott or Liam.
It was that loyalty from McGann that sealed his employment with her. Sarina also vowed to give the man a raise.
From then on, her own notes to both men had been carefully composed and just as furtively sent.
Lydia carefully pulled several wisps of hair from the comb and pulled the curling tongs from the fireplace coals to curl them. Sarina closed her eyes and smoothed a hand down over the waist of her gown.
Tonight was the first evening she was out of half mourning. It had been six weeks since Georgiana’s death, and Sarina had mourned long enough for society. Her gown tonight was one she’d been saving for full season, but with Prescott and Liam invited, and her plan to seduce them both in one of the upstairs rooms, Sarina wanted to look her best.
Ivory with beaded work around the high waist and pearl buttons along the back, the silk-satin gown sat just off her shoulders with cap sleeves. The pearl earbobs and ivory reticule matched her gown perfectly.
Studying herself in the mirror as Lydia scrutinized her hair, Sarina bit her lip to add a bit of color. Nerves continued to prick along her skin, speeding up her heart in anticipation. Thoughts of tonight made breathing difficult. But delicious heat curled through her belly and down to her core.
She wanted nothing more than to feel her lovers’ touches, taste them in return. In fact, the only problem Sarina foresaw with her plan for this evening was that there wouldn’t be enough time to fully enjoy her men as she’d longed to. She wanted to explore their bodies, feel their muscles bunch beneath her fingertips. Wanted to taste them, to find what made them as breathless as they made her.
More than she wanted to find pleasure with them, she simply wanted to be with them. She missed them. Missed the way they were together—the way they laughed together, chatted about the latest scientific discoveries or took silent walks round the gardens.
Yes, she wanted them, wanted to feel them moving within her, the three of them so perfect together, but she wanted that connection. The bond they shared that made her feel more than sexually wanted. That made her feel loved.
They hadn’t time for so much as tea, much less a stolen kiss.
Curling her fingers into her gown, Sarina couldn’t suppress a shudder. It was only when Lydia exclaimed over wrinkles that she realized what she had done. Carefully standing, she apologized to Lydia.
All but bounding in her dancing slippers, Sarina left her rooms. Tonight she’d finally see her lovers, and she’d not let anything stop her.
It surprised Sarina how easily Henrietta and Maryanne let her attend Faith’s ball without one of them as chaperone. She had insisted Faith’s older sister would act as chaperone and that this spur-of-the-moment pre-Season ball was merely for Faith’s friends. It had seemed to be enough for her cousins.
Climbing into her friend’s carriage, she made idle chatter with the other woman. “Friend” might be too strong a word for her relationship with Katherine, but Sarina liked her well enough, and Katherine wouldn’t insist on clinging to her this evening.
As the carriage made its way down London’s crowded streets, Sarina smelled the still-lingering scent of roasted nuts as a few hardy souls hawked their wares. Faith’s house was set just off the very fashionable Mayfair Square, her family well connected and quite wealthy.
Lucky for both Sarina and Katherine, she also enjoyed a good soiree and an even better rendezvous. Katherine was to meet her beau here; she’d made no secret of that even in front of her aunt, who sat across from them as the carriage swayed along the street. Apparently the aunt didn’t mind her charge sneaking off.
Sarina had no hope either of her cousins would be so blasé in chaperoning her if they knew Prescott and Liam were to be in attendance this eve.
Faith had seemingly invited everyone of either of their acquaintances. Sarina arrived early, but already the townhouse was nearly full.
The cold winter had affected everyone and with pre-season now upon London, the ton wanted to revel in what they did best—a good event. Sarina handed her cloak and gloves to the butler with a small nod before she made her way across the rooms in search of her friend. She kept an eye open for either Liam or Prescott, who had assured her they’d be in attendance, but so far saw neither man.
Faith stood at the end of the receiving line, bright and animated as she tediously greeted her guests. As far as Sarina knew, Faith was always bright and animated, but she seemed especially so this evening. Was she, too, sneaking off to meet a suitor?
Why not? Sarina wondered with a grin as she made her way to her friend. It would make a far more interesting ball than normal.
“It seems all of London has flooded in here this evening,” Sarina said to Faith with a smile. Katherine bade her hellos and instantly went in search of her own beau. Sarina didn’t watch her leave.
“All of London and its surrounding counties, I think!” Faith laughed and kissed her on both cheeks. “I saw your handsome Mr. Sinclair,” Faith whispered, holding her close for a moment longer than societal norms. “I believe he’s lingering near the ballroom upstairs.”
Sarina flushed—she knew she did. And the smile on her face was very difficult to hide. Her friend, however, embraced this sneaking around wholeheartedly. She’d had to tell Faith that Prescott formally courted her—he was the man she’d officially marry, even if Liam held an equal place in her heart.
“If anyone asks,” Sarina said in a voice equally low, “I’m in the gardens or the conservatory.”
Faith returned her conspiratorial smile and agreed.
Sarina climbed the stairs, anticipation fluttering in her stomach and making it difficult to walk in a slow and calm manner.
“Miss Hunt!”
Sarina froze, only a few steps up the wide staircase, and reluctantly turned. Oliver stood at the base of the stairs. She should’ve known he’d been invited. And that he would’ve attended. Swallowing heavily, she plastered a smile on her face and retreated from the few steps she’d already taken.
“Lord Hawksmoor, I hadn’t known you’d be in attendance this evening.” She looked around, making it a point to gaze at the crowd. “It looks like we’re in for quite the crush tonight.”
“It’s good to see you out,” he said with a small bow and sincere smile. “And enjoying life.”
Sarina nodded at his unspoken words and desperately sought a safe avenue of conversation. Words failed her.
“Perhaps,” Oliver continued in the silence between them, “you would do me the honor of saving me a dance?”
Her breath caught, but Sarina managed a serene nod. Her heart screamed no; her head had no answer for her. “I shall try,” she agreed halfheartedly. She noticed Oliver’s gaze remained cool and distant, and wondered how he truly felt about this supposed marriage between them. “But I’m here to meet several friends. Enjoy the ball!”
Brushing him off, and feeling terrible about her abruptness, her downright rudeness to a friend, Sarina hurried up the stairs. Oliver wouldn’t follow her, she knew that much, but that didn’t stop her from feeling badly about her ill-mannered behavior. But she was desperate to find Prescott and Liam.
Turning toward the ballroom, she quickened her step, scanning the crowd in search of her lovers.
&
nbsp; There truly was a crush tonight, though she heard the orchestra clearly over the rise and fall of conversation. She wanted to dance, to enjoy herself in a quadrille or cotillion; doing so would only open up dancing with Oliver, and Sarina didn’t want that. Not tonight.
Tonight, she planned something far more interesting than a mere dance.
Liam stood off to the side, his hands clasped behind his back, and in deep conversation with Prescott.
Sarina’s heart skipped a beat and she swayed where she stood. Not from overwhelming lust, though heat curled through her like a bolt of lightning. But because it had been so very long since she’d seem them. Over a month had passed since she’d actually spoken to them, had heard their voices and their laughter, or watched the way their eyes sparked with need when they looked at her.
They hadn’t yet spotted her, and Sarina didn’t wish to draw attention to herself by approaching them. Taking a deep breath of the hot, moist air, she slowed her gait and carefully made her way around the crush to where they stood. Prescott spotted her first; his brown eyes lightened and his smile changed, though he didn’t turn from Liam.
Nodding in acknowledgement, Sarina continued around the room toward them. She watched as they broke off from their small group and made their way around to where she stood.
“Mr. Sinclair, Mr. Trevelyan,” she said for the sake of every eavesdropping guest here. And she didn’t think she was being overly paranoid, either. “So lovely you could make it this evening.”
“And you, Miss Hunt,” Liam said with a bow.
Prescott bowed in greeting but remained silent.
They’d planned this, not in so many words, not since Sarina feared Henrietta and Maryanne read her correspondence, but she’d made it quite clear of her intention to sneak to one of the guest rooms with both Liam and Prescott.
Clearly they both understood.
Her smile warmed even as she desperately tried to control her expression. It would do none of them any good if someone followed them in an effort to secure a salacious bit of gossip.
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