Laughing, David stood and offered his arm to his new friend. “Yes, Miss Jardin, I completely agree. Now then, shall we go have our dance now?”
“Oh yes, please!” Sarah accepted joyously, jumping up from her chair with a happy bounce and taking David’s arm.
And then disaster struck…for next to the chair there was a small table and Sarah, being excited and happy and not paying attention, caught the edge of the piece with her foot and tripped.
She would have fallen if not for David, who caught her midway down to the floor in a sweeping bend reminiscent of a man leaning in to give his lover the most romantic of kisses.
It was at that very second that the door to the parlor opened and two women, one being the biggest (and loudest) busybody in all of London and the other being the laudable Lady Lancaster, walked into the room and saw what looked to be a very scandalous moment between Sarah and David.
David looked down at Sarah, still captured in his embrace, and instantly realized what they must look like…
…and he promptly dropped her.
Sarah hit the floor with a thud, but quickly scrambled to her feet and said, “This isn’t what it looks like…I fell, you see, Lady Lancaster, you know how clumsy I can be. And Dav— ah, Lord Rochester just happened to, er, catch me…” Sarah then trailed off lamely, knowing there was no saving this situation.
Because beyond what they appeared to be doing, even if that could be explained, they were still alone in a room together. And despite the fact that she was Sarah Jardin, of all people, and he was David Rochester, the golden boy of the ton, and no one in their right mind would ever imagine that he could be interested in her, tongues would still wag, and Sarah would be completely ruined.
Not that she wasn’t, by now, practically on the shelf, four and twenty was a ripe old age for a debutante—Sarah was still an innocent, well-bred lady and thereby subject to the merciless nature of society.
Ignoring Sarah’s outburst completely, Lady Lymington—the busybody who was probably showing off her recently redecorated parlor to the dowager duchess—turned to Lady Lancaster and said, “Well, they must be married immediately.”
“What!” David and Sarah exclaimed at precisely the same time; the former clearly in shock and the latter in utter mortification. No matter what the situation looked like, Sarah did not want to be married to David as a result of an innocent mistake. One in which he was just being nice! She would rather be ruined. What difference would it make in the long run, anyway? She was doomed to be alone.
Lady Lancaster could only wonder what was going through poor Sarah’s mind. If she knew anything about Miss Jardin, the duchess was sure Sarah was trying to find some way to get the young Rochester out of the predicament in which they found themselves. She would be thinking it wasn’t worth ruining Rochester’s life with marriage to her, when she was not worthy of marrying in the first place.
Sarah, of course, was wrong. The girl had untold potential. She was a diamond in the rough, for certain, and already the duchess could see a sparkle emerging. And she was equally certain that there was a man out there somewhere who would someday see it, too.
However, there was absolutely nothing Lady Lancaster could do about what was to happen now. Not even she, with her impeccable standing in society, could prevent what must take place. The dowager duchess could only hope that David was man enough to see the prize he had no choice but to receive.
Chapter Two
Don’t complain about the weather; most of the ton couldn’t hold a conversation if it didn’t change once in a while.
—The Duke of Lancaster
Three days later, the Honorable Sarah Jardin became Baroness Rochester—the future Countess of Rochester—and five days after that, David found himself seated across from his wife for yet another quiet breakfast meal as a couple.
The day after the unfortunate occurrence at the ball, Lord Clarendon all but dragged Sarah to the Rochesters’ home and demanded to know David’s intentions. Sarah had tried once again to get all involved to see reason—nothing had happened, after all—but David, being the gentleman he was, refused to consider anything other than what was right and proper. He would not be responsible for besmirching Sarah’s name.
That wasn’t to say David was looking forward to having Sarah as his bride for all eternity, but he really could see no other way out. They had been good and caught by the biggest gossip in all of Christendom. This was what he got for being nice…again.
But that said, Sarah was an all right sort, and he certainly could do a lot worse. And, to be honest, David hadn’t even considered getting married yet—he knew he would have to eventually, but he hadn’t given it any more thought than that—and therefore finding himself betrothed to Sarah hadn’t truly upset any plans he might have had with, say, another girl. So, he planned to make the best of it.
And after five days of being married, he thought it was going quite well. True, they didn’t have much to say to each other, and they hadn’t yet consummated the marriage (David didn’t see Sarah in that way, but he supposed he would take the plunge one of these days; an heir would be nice, after all), but they were still in the process of getting to know each other, so that was to be expected. But it was surprisingly pleasant to see her sitting across the table from him every morning and evening these last few days…surprisingly pleasant, indeed.
“How did you sleep, Sarah? I trust, well?” David asked as he slathered butter over a lightly browned piece of toast.
Sarah looked up from her own plate of eggs and kippers. “Very well. Thank you.”
“Excellent.”
Silence reigned for a few moments as the two silently chewed on their respective repasts, and then David said, “I was out at the stables earlier this morning and it looks to be another lovely day.”
“Oh?” Sarah countered civilly. “Then the sun is shining again today?”
“My, yes. It is very bright and I could hardly hear the grooms’ ‘hellos’ over the sound of birds chirping.”
“It has been an uncommonly beautiful summer, hasn’t it?”
“Quite so.”
“Do you have any plans today, David?”
“Hmmm?” David murmured, looking up from his plate again, surprised by the new topic. Usually their breakfast conversation covered the weather and not much more. “Oh, no, not really. I thought I might go over to Simon’s place after breakfast. He has just purchased a new broodmare, and I thought I would take a look at her.”
“Simon’s?” Sarah asked, perking up. “Do you think I might come along?”
David was perplexed. “I don’t honestly think you would be interested, Sarah-dear.”
“‘Sarah-dear’?” Sarah snorted. “I am not your ‘dear.’ You have made that abundantly clear, and how would you know what I am interested in or not? We never talk!”
“We are talking right now, Sarah-dear,” David responded tightly, “and as your husband, I may call you anything I like.”
“No, you may not!” Sarah cried, throwing down her napkin and standing abruptly. “You may have married me, but we are not husband and wife. And this—” At which point Sarah gestured wildly to the farce of a breakfast before them. “Is not talking. This is…this is…this is idiotic!”
And with that, Sarah spun around, tripped over her chair, and fell face first onto the plush carpeted floor with an inelegant “oomph.”
“Sarah! Are you all—” David burst out, getting up to come to her aid. But he was stopped cold in his tracks when his bride leaped to her feet and skewered him with a look that could maim.
“Don’t even think of helping me,” she snarled. “You are not allowed to be nice and gentlemanly when I am angry with you!” And she proceeded to stomp out of the room.
A few seconds later, David heard the front door slam as Sarah left the house for destinations unknown, and he wondered what in the hell had just happened.
Sarah had no idea where she was going when she slammed her way o
ut of the home she shared with David, but she knew she had to get out of that house…where everything reminded her of David and yet prompted no sense of intimacy or shared memories.
Luckily the modestly sized home was situated just on the edge of the Mayfair district, which meant she was still within walking distance of all her friends and even Lady Lancaster in Grosvenor Square, but she wasn’t really sure she wanted to share her marital woes with her friends just yet. They had all been so happy for her—except perhaps Hannah—when they found out she and David were getting married.
Even under the less than celebratory circumstances, they felt sure theirs could be a happy marriage. And, of course, they all knew what had really happened and, therefore, didn’t hold any ill will toward either party, recognizing it as the happy (in their minds) accident it was.
Hannah was the only one who showed concern for Sarah. Sarah knew her friend had spent most of her life sweeping up the broken hearts of the girls David left in his wake, and she had already cautioned Sarah not to get her heart involved in this marriage. But it was hard to take heed when everyone else was so thrilled for her. They knew the marriage was an actual dream come true for Sarah.
It was a dream Sarah was having a hard time letting go, despite the reality looming before her. David didn’t love her and likely never would. And if she were being honest with herself, why should he? Her own family couldn’t be bothered with her.
No, Sarah couldn’t bring herself to lay open her problems with any of them…at least not yet. Her marriage to David was a new thing and, to be fair, she couldn’t expect David to be the husband she’d always imagined when this marriage wasn’t even his idea. They did not marry for love, they married in haste, out of necessity.
It did not get much less romantic than that.
Feeling her anger fade, Sarah was just left feeling sorry for herself. And where does one go when they are feeling sorry for themselves? They go home. Home to their families, who are bound to love them unconditionally, no matter how stupidly they have behaved. And, in her case, if not her family, then her family’s servants.
Sarah turned toward her father’s house.
It wasn’t a long walk, but Sarah found the sunny, pleasant weather a constant reminder of the fight she had had with David, and she couldn’t wait to reach her destination. She knew her father’s home would be dull and dreary (Lord Clarendon spent about as much on updating his home as he had on dressing his daughter), and that atmosphere would fit her mood perfectly.
Therefore, it was a relief to let herself into the house that until a few days ago had been her home, and she went on the hunt for a friendly face. It wasn’t long before she saw Cole, the family’s butler, who—by some sixth-sense all butlers seemed to share—knew there was an unexpected visitor on the premises.
“Sarah, my dear girl, how good it is to see you!” Cole said in hushed tones while hurrying to give her a quick hug. The butler did not like to appear unprofessional in front of the other staff, but he simply could not be the cold, officious man to Sarah his role demanded him to be.
“Oh, Cole,” Sarah replied with a half cry, gratefully accepting his embrace, “it is good to see you, too.”
Clearly sensing Sarah’s emotional turmoil, Cole immediately released her and said, “Let us go see what Mrs. Cole is up to, shall we?”
“Yes, please.” Sarah sighed, happy to be home where people loved and understood her.
“Come, child…I believe she is in her office.”
Sarah willingly walked with Cole back into the depths of the large mansion to where the housekeeper’s office was situated. Calling it an office was a bit of a misnomer, as it was just a small alcove off the kitchen meant for the head housekeeper to keep track of the staff and her duties, but everyone in the house referred to it as such because the master left the running of the house entirely to Mrs. Cole and, therefore, it was the true hub of Clarendon Hall.
Once they reached the area, both Sarah and Cole could see the portly form of Mrs. Cole hunched over her desk reading a letter. Sarah made to run to the woman, but the butler grabbed her arm and shook his head gravely. Confused, Sarah looked more closely at the housekeeper, and it was then that she could see the older woman was crying, and the hands that held the letter were shaking.
“Mrs. Cole, whatever is the matter?” Sarah cried, rushing to the woman’s side.
Surprised, Mrs. Cole looked up at her visitor with a pale face and such a worried visage that Sarah knew instantly that the letter she was reading held some very bad news indeed.
“Sarah, love, what are you doing here? You should be spending time with your new husband,” Mrs. Cole said absently, folding the letter in her hands.
“David and I had a little, er, difference of opinion this morning, and I thought some time apart would be good for both of us,” Sarah explained as casually as she could, “but that is no longer important. You must tell me what is wrong.”
Mrs. Cole sighed the sigh of the defeated and said, “Nothing you can help with, Sarah. There is nothing any of us can do.”
“Please tell me what has happened, Mrs. Cole,” Sarah begged, sitting next to the housekeeper and taking her hand. “If I am not able to help, perhaps I know someone who can. I am a future countess now, remember?”
With a ghost of a smile, Mrs. Cole gave in. “Very well. Henry, you will want to listen, too.”
The butler—now wearing his “husband” face—stepped farther into the little space and nodded.
With a deep breath, Mrs. Cole began. “My sister has written me this letter in desperation. Her husband and her three sons are being hunted by a wicked earl intent on seeing them hanged.”
Sarah gasped. “Hanged for what?”
Mrs. Cole shook her head sadly. “For cutting down part of his orchard. Ada, my sister, says they needed it for firewood and that the tree was all but dead, but this earl is still bent on seeing them prosecuted.”
“Prosecuted for what? Getting firewood? I don’t understand. What is wrong with that?”
“It’s the Black Acts, dear,” Cole interjected solemnly.
“The Black Acts?”
“Yes, these acts make it illegal to hunt on or enter private lands with weapons, cut down trees, or even establish a garden on land that is owned by someone else.”
“B-But that is preposterous,” Sarah sputtered. “Where are the people to get their food, their wood, if not from the land around them? Just because a gentleman owns the land, he does not own the wild animals and foliage that grow on it!”
“According to the Black Acts, he does, Sarah. There is nothing to be done about it,” Mrs. Cole said sadly.
“There must be!” Sarah insisted. “I will speak with Lady Lancaster about this right away.”
“The dowager duchess?” Mrs. Cole asked hesitantly. “What could she do?”
Belatedly, Sarah remembered that no one outside the Garden Society knew what the ladies did with and for Lady Lancaster.
“Well,” Mr. Cole confided in a loud whisper, “I have heard a rumor that she was a spy once, and she is a powerful woman in society…perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to let Sarah speak with the lady, Esther.”
Uncertainty still written on her face, Mrs. Cole nodded slowly. “I don’t suppose it could hurt, but Sarah, please don’t let this take you away from your new life with your husband. Differences of opinion are bound to crop up in the beginning, but it is important to talk through them. Communication is the foundation of a good marriage…you may not always agree, but you should always be able to come to a compromise.”
Sarah gave a tremulous smile. Leave it to Mrs. Cole to worry about her when such a tremendous injustice was being perpetrated against her flesh and blood.
“Is it any wonder that I love you?” Sarah gushed, throwing her arms around the only mother she had ever known.
“You are a girl full of the capacity to love,” Mrs. Cole said fondly, once Sarah released her from her embrace, “I just put myself in the pos
ition to receive it. And so has your husband, now,” Mrs. Cole reminded her with a wink. “Make sure he realizes what a gift you are.”
“I shall do my best,” Sarah promised, but inside she wondered just how it was she was going to achieve that.
Certainly it was what she wanted, but if he hadn’t fallen in love with her prior to them getting married, she had no idea how to accomplish it now that they were. One would think it would be easier; they were two healthy, young, relatively attractive people in a house alone together, but their conversations were even more stilted and impersonal now than they’d ever been.
Perhaps Mrs. Cole was correct. The key was communication. Maybe a bit more verbal honesty was what was needed? Open verbal honesty was Sarah’s strong suit, in any case, even if she had never considered it an attribute before.
“Yes,” Sarah repeated with a brisk nod, “I certainly will give it a try. But right now I need to have a conversation with the dowager duchess.” Turning a concerned look on Mrs. Cole, she added, “Are you going to be all right?”
Giving her own brisk nod, the housekeeper busily wiped her eyes and straightened her apron. “Yes, dear, I will be fine. There is plenty to do around here to keep my mind occupied for a bit, and my Henry is always nearby.”
The older woman gave a look of love and gratitude to her husband, and Mr. Cole came closer to rest a hand affectionately on his wife’s shoulder.
“I will keep an eye on her, girl. You just go see what you can find out from the duchess.”
“Very well,” Sarah said, “I will be back as soon as I know anything. I love you both.”
“We love you, too, child. Godspeed.”
And with that, her own problems forgotten, Sarah exited the house in search of answers from the most intelligent and resourceful woman she knew…Lady Lancaster.
Sarah hurried as quickly as was respectable to Lady Lancaster’s estate in Grosvenor Square.
Grosvenor Square was considered the center of the exclusive London area known as Mayfair. The best families of the ton lived in or around the Mayfair district, but those in Grosvenor Square tended to be leaders among the leaders of the most influential families.
Enticing Her Unexpected Bridegroom Page 3