Lady's Temptations: A Winter's Regency Menage

by Reed, Kristabel

  “We should return below before we’re missed.” She paused, reluctant to leave this intimate interlude. But her body hungered for theirs and Sarina knew if she didn’t leave now, she’d succumb to temptation. To them.

  Without another look at them she slipped out the door, closing it quietly behind her, and returned to the steps. She needed to find Miss Ainsworth and speak with her herself.

  Sarina instantly spotted Marguerite and headed directly for her friend. Positioning herself so she could see the doors, Sarina made sure to chat animatedly with her friend. Perhaps she should have enlisted Marguerite with this subterfuge, but though Sarina loved her dearly, Marguerite was not known for her discretion.

  Pity. At the moment, she sorely felt she needed an ally in this.

  She saw Prescott across the room, and watched him carefully. He made no move to cross to her, but when his dark, piercing gaze flicked back to hers for yet another moment, the heat already making it difficult for Sarina to stay put flared. But then he nodded and tilted his head toward the door, and she followed his gaze.

  Oh.

  So that was Miss Rose Ainsworth.

  A lovely woman with deep brown hair and expressive blue-hazel eyes, she looked around the room with a detached sort of way. Sarina admired that about her. Half listening to Marguerite, she continued to watch the other woman.

  Turning to Marguerite, Sarina feigned ignorance and asked, “Who’s the beautiful brunette who just entered? She doesn’t look familiar.”

  Marguerite peered around her and smiled. “Oh, that’s Rose Ainsworth. There’s some scandal flirting about her, but I’ve not heard anything concrete.”

  And that’s why she loved her friend. Though Marguerite enjoyed gossip probably more than the next person, she always made sure to know the truth of the matter before spreading it. A woman of many mysteries, was Marguerite.

  “You know her then?” Sarina asked.

  It was all she needed before Marguerite all but dragged her over and introduced her to Rose. Sarina didn’t have to wait long before Marguerite became distracted by another of their friends, and she casually began to stroll to where she spied Oliver.

  Rose had to know who he was, if Liam and Prescott’s matchmaking was even remotely accurate. Stepping back just enough to watch their interaction, Sarina had a very good feeling about this. Grinning as if she’d arranged it all herself, a sense of satisfaction warmed her.

  Turning to find her own lovers, she smiled.

  Yes, she had a very good feeling about this.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Feeling lighter than she had in months, Sarina danced and laughed at the Marchioness of Hampton’s ball. Hope had lifted her spirits and cast light in the doubting corners of her heart and mind.

  While she’d laughed and danced, sampled the delicious repast, and made sure to flirt with both Prescott and Liam, all the while avoiding her cousins, Sarina watched Oliver and Rose. The other woman seemed to enjoy herself. It was difficult to tell with Oliver—reading his emotions across the tea table was difficult enough. Reading him from across the room when she was so filled with optimism? Not so much.

  Sarina gave up and searched out Liam for a dance.

  She watched Liam from beneath her lashes as they moved between the other dancers. His hand never brushed her body inappropriately; he never said anything that would ignite the gossips, should they overhear, but she could feel the heat in his eyes. Sarina shivered as she stared across at him. The heat in his eyes weakened her defenses and made her want to abandon the dance and rush from the room with him, gossips be damned.

  Marguerite had noticed her introductions between Rose Ainsworth and Oliver and had commented on it, but Sarina brushed her obvious interest aside. If things worked out, and she had every reason to think they would, she didn’t plan on taking any credit whatsoever for the introduction.

  No, she planned on breathing a rather large sigh of relief.

  As she stood by the doors, the cold night breeze doing little to cool the room, Sarina spotted Rose making her way across the room to her. Excusing herself from her friends, she met the other woman halfway.

  Rose’s blue-hazel eyes gave away nothing, though Sarina noticed a pinched look around the corners of her mouth. Still, it was quite late and that could have been from the crush, the food, the heat. Perhaps she was simply tired.

  Her heart tripping over itself as she and Rose made their way out of the room, Sarina waited for the other woman to speak first. She was silent until they stood outside, waiting for Rose’s carriage. Yes, it was better to have this conversation outdoors, away from any eavesdroppers.

  “He’s a decent type,” Sarina said, finally breaking the silence. “Isn’t he?”

  Apparently, this was not the best thing to say. In fact, it looked as if it was the exact wrong thing to say. Rose stiffened, her eyes shadowed in the overcast night. Even with the shadows dancing along the street and over the other woman’s face, Sarina clearly saw the pensive look, the thoughtful nod.

  “Yes,” Rose said at length. “Yes, he does seem that way.”

  “I know you have spoken with Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Trevelyan regarding a possible marriage to Lord Hawksmoor,” Sarina said quietly so none of the footmen overheard.

  The wind blew harshly down the street and chilled her, but she smiled brightly nonetheless, her heart warmed in ways it hadn’t been in months.

  “Yes.” Rose nodded. When she spoke next it was in an equally quiet voice but much more forthright than Sarina expected from a bare acquaintance. “And there’s no need to approach this delicately. I’m fully aware of Lord Hawksmoor’s position and your desire to marry Mr. Sinclair.”

  She took in a deep breath, and Sarina’s heart stuttered. When Rose grabbed her hand, everything in Sarina froze. The warm bubble of hope she carried with her all night began to crack.

  “I understand what it’s like to be with a man you love deeply. And I understand this obligation, but—” Rose pressed her lips tight together, her free hand touching her lips as if afraid to say more.

  All Sarina could do was nod and hope her silence was mistaken for interest and not the heart-wrenching fear at the other woman’s words.

  “Hawksmoor is the type of man who would treat you well,” Sarina said as the wind howled in her ears and she desperately grasped at straws. “Where you could—”

  “I cannot help you,” Rose cut in. “Either of you.” She paused and her voice softened. “I’m sorry.” Then she drew in a deep breath as the other woman’s carriage pulled to the curbside. “I won’t be marrying Lord Hawksmoor.”

  “What happened?” Sarina demanded, but her voice was weak. She swallowed hard and held onto Rose’s hand, refusing to let the other woman enter her carriage without answers. “I don’t understand. They told me you wanted to—”

  Again Rose cut her off. Gently disentangling her hand, she climbed into the carriage. “I’m sorry. I cannot.”

  At the carriage door, frozen to her very bones but not from the April night, Sarina begged. She wasn’t proud of it, hated the pleading quality in her tone, but couldn’t seem to stop it, either. “Please. Meet me for tea tomorrow.”

  Sarina saw the hesitation in the other woman, the stiffness in her shoulders, the caution in her eyes. But then Rose nodded and quietly agreed. Stepping back, clutching her cloak around her, Sarina watched the carriage pull away. The last thing she saw before the curtain fell into place was tears in Rose’s eyes. Sarina felt the same prick her own eyes and hastily swiped them away.

  She walked back inside, but all she felt were the shards of her once-bright hope shatter with every step she took.

  Back inside, she ordered her own carriage brought round and sent a footman with a message for her cousins, promising to send the carriage back. She couldn’t, absolutely could not, return to Liam or Prescott. She’d break down before everyone.

  Taking a deep breath, then another, she stared straight ahead and waited for her carriage. S
he needed a plan, a course of action for tomorrow’s tea with Rose.

  Unfortunately, her mind remained stubbornly blank.

  * * * *

  Though the other woman wasn’t expected for over two hours yet, Sarina decided to take tea with Rose in the sunroom. The April day had dawned bright and sunny in contrast to the riot of feelings that crashed through her. Nerves made her fingers shake, but she took deep breaths and stood in a patch of sunlight, hoping it warmed her chilled fingers.

  Without Rose Ainsworth’s commitment to marrying Oliver, Sarina was once more put into the position of deciding on whether to follow her heart or her duty.

  She held up her teacup and breathed in the steaming brew. She hadn’t been able to eat much this morning, her stomach tied in knots, but the tea helped. If nothing else, it gave her something to focus on.

  Sarina supposed it was rather hypocritical of her to ask another woman to enter a marriage such as the one with Oliver when she, herself, wished to marry for love.

  “You have a visitor, ma’am,” McGann said with a slight bow.

  Sarina turned, surprised. “Miss Ainsworth is early.”

  The look on her butler’s face remained inscrutable, but something flickered in his brown gaze. “Not Miss Ainsworth, ma’am,” he said quietly and took one step closer. “Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Trevelyan.”

  Sarina felt a flush color her cheeks, but McGann averted his gaze and remained as stoic as always. She’d never make it on Drury Lane with these acting skills. Schooling her features, she nodded coolly. “I’ll see them in the front parlor,” she instructed.

  Her nerves did not abate as she eventually followed her butler, and she had no idea what to say to them. Her throat felt dry, despite the tea she’d consumed all morning, and her brain frantically tried to find the words she needed to explain the situation. Or even understand it herself.

  McGann closed the door behind her. Sarina made a mental note to give him an extra bonus for his birthday and Christmas along with Lydia. They’d made, whether knowingly or not, her tryst with Prescott and Liam easier.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a hushed tone the instant the doors clicked closed. Her fingers tangled in the blue of her gown, but she kept her distance from the men.

  Too emotionally volatile, she didn’t trust herself to be near either man.

  “We heard about Miss Ainsworth’s decision,” Liam said, his words clipped. His hands were tightly clasped behind his back, his shoulders still and immobile. His blue eyes watched her every move as if he expected her to turn and run from them, the room, and their love.

  Prescott moved toward her and clasped her shoulders despite the open parlor curtains. His brown eyes burned hotly. “I know how you think, Sarina. And we’re not prepared to lose you. If that means we sign over our own business to Hawksmoor and leave England with you.” He nodded shortly, his lips set in a hard line. “Then we will.”

  “No,” Sarina said shortly. “I could never allow that.” She swallowed and shook her head, adamant in that, at least.

  “That is not your decision to make,” Prescott reminded her.

  “What we do with our business is up to us,” Liam added and stepped closer to her. “And if we choose to use it as leverage to free you from Hawksmoor, then so be it.”

  Stunned, she could only stare. “Miss Ainsworth will be here shortly for tea,” she managed. “Allow me to speak with her; perhaps there’s still a way.”

  Prescott wrapped his arms around her, warm and comforting, and for the first time since she’d spoken to Rose last evening, Sarina felt content. The heat from his body warmed her own and eased some of the stiffness from her movements. Behind her, she felt Liam. Even as Prescott caressed her cheek, Liam’s large, warm hands caressed her shoulders and neck.

  Cocooned between them, she felt loved and safe. And Sarina could oh so easily see herself agreeing with them—running off to be with them, no matter where.

  Lost in their touch, their love, her defenses fell. Her eyes closed, fingers curled into Prescott’s vest, her head dropped to Liam’s shoulder. She didn’t care about the window or those walking past. She didn’t care she met behind scandalously closed doors with her lovers in a house with her cousins.

  All she cared about was this moment. Right then and there.

  Steadier than she’d felt all day, Sarina pulled back and took a deep breath. She looked from one to the other and smiled.

  “Sarina,” Prescott said with a force she’d expected. His hands dropped from her, but his gaze bore into hers. “This is no longer about schemes or manipulation. We don’t want to play this game of honor and duty. We understand your concept of honor.” His eyes flicked to Liam then back to her.

  “But we don’t agree with it. We weren’t born to great wealth, we earned it. We fought for it. And we have every intention,” he added, his tone harsh, “to fight for you.”

  “And this is a war we intend to win,” Liam added in an equally ruthless tone. “We don’t want to spend the rest of our lives regretting, knowing, we want each other, love each other, and yet we let that slip through our fingers.”

  “This might not be the ordinary union,” Prescott said. He shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him. And it didn’t to her, they had to know that. “But it doesn’t have to be. We are all very astute and very in love.”

  “And,” Liam said simply, “we’re not going to lose you.”

  Her gaze moving from one man to the other, Sarina nodded. She turned to Prescott and kissed him, let the warmth and love of his kiss flow through her as his embrace had earlier. Breaking the kiss far, far too soon, she kissed Liam, smiling against his mouth.

  Silently nodding, unable to form words, she saw them out. Braced for her tea with Rose, Sarina returned to the sunroom with a smile on her face.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A calm had settled over her. Sarina still vacillated between doing what she wished and what she knew to be right, but as she waited for Rose Ainsworth to be announced, she knew somehow it would work out.

  She had to believe that, no matter the facts currently staring her in the face.

  Sarina didn’t know when she’d taken to fantasizing or living in her own rose-colored world. Practicality certainly didn’t lend itself to such caprices. And, too, there was the very real truth that she was trying to force a marriage of convenience onto a stranger so she, herself, didn’t have to go through with it.

  Sighing, she rubbed her fingers over her eyes and continued to stare into the sunny day. Tips of flowers and greenery peeked through the ground and promised to soon explode in a burst of color. One way or another, by the end of April Sarina would be engaged.

  McGann announced Rose, and Sarina turned from her contemplation to greet her guest. Her butler gave her a long, silent look she couldn’t quite place, then bowed and left. Sarina held back another sigh. She’d been far from circumspect; the entire household staff no doubt knew of her plans and schemes.

  Gesturing to the seat opposite her, Sarina poured tea. The table was situated just outside a patch of sunlight, warming the room most pleasantly. Rose looked at her with a steady gaze that gave nothing away.

  She silently accepted the teacup and took a sip, a slight smile playing around her generous mouth. Sarina poured her own tea, then leaned back and watched the other woman.

  Lifting the plate, she offered Rose the cakes. “Would you care for one?”

  With one eyebrow raised, Rose shook her head. “You needn’t stand on ceremony. I’m completely aware as to why you’ve invited me to tea, Miss Hunt.”

  Rose’s bluntness momentarily stunned Sarina, but then she supposed it shouldn’t have. Before she could muster a reply, the other woman continued.

  “You wish to know what failing I’ve discovered in Lord Hawksmoor that led me to reject this scheme of Sinclair’s and Trevelyan’s.”

  “I wouldn’t have necessarily asked you so directly,” Sarina admitted coolly. “But yes. Why reject L
ord Hawksmoor? From my understanding, you wanted to marry; Hawksmoor is a prize. And Mr. Sinclair has informed me you expressed no interest in a love match.”

  Rose offered a small smile, one that spoke of secrets and mysteries. “Did Mr. Sinclair, or Mr. Trevelyan, for that matter, tell you my reasons for not wanting a love match?”

  Oh. No, they hadn’t, and Sarina flushed in embarrassment when she realized she hadn’t asked. All she knew was the gossip surrounding Rose. “They weren’t forthcoming with specifics,” she admitted. “But yes,” she told Rose, not bothering with prevarication the other woman clearly didn’t appreciate. “I have heard the rumors.”

  Rose raised her teacup to her lips and took a quick sip. She leaned back in the chair and offered that same mysterious smile. “Ah, yes. The rumors. The entire world believes I was taken in, fooled,” she added with an unamused smile, “by a thieving rake. When that is not the case. But yet, the sympathy I have earned has been staggering.”

  Sarina waited as the other woman set her teacup back on the table, her hands folded demurely on her lap. Rose held herself immobile, all poise and rigidity, but her eyes spoke of secrets, and that smile Sarina couldn’t quite identify remained enigmatic.

  “You should see the looks well-meaning matrons cast in my direction.” Her eyebrow raised again. “Or the sympathetic advances from suitors. Each one wishes to rescue me from evil men.”

  Taking a moment in the wake of the bitter-tinged words, Sarina tilted her head. She kept her own pity from both voice and gaze, careful to school her features into mild understanding. Also, she didn’t want to push. “I believe they simply wish to be kind.”

  Rose offered a laugh, the sound harsher than she’d thus far let on. “I don’t want their kindness. I wish no one knew anything. Jeremey was not a thief.” She picked up her tea and drained the cup. In a calmer voice she added, “But proving that.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. And what I’d like is a distraction to dedicate myself to.”