“No. Merely asking you to practice some discretion.”
Discretion. The word fell upon her like ice water. Sarah looked about the room, noticed the curious eyes that watched them. Noticed that it was only Haverwood’s broad back that faced her. Perhaps it was time to leave. “I see the comtesse is looking for me. I’m sure you’ll pardon me.”
Sarah left the woman staring after her and made it to the safety of Juliette’s side.
“Ah,chérie , I see the light of fire in your eyes. The woman made you angry,non ?”
“Anger is useless. She is a mother protecting her daughter, nothing else.” She should never have come tonight. Even if the earl had deemed to come down from his lofty world, why had she thought she belonged here? The man wanted her for a mistress. She should have guessed his intentions earlier. He was no different than any of the others. But the damage had already been done, he had touched her heart, and now she only wanted to cry.
Juliette was not blind. “You should smile and be less conspicuous. People will talk.”
“Yes.” She smiled tightly, blinking several times to clear her eyes. “They will. I suppose you would like to leave early this evening?”
The comtesse watched her with pity. “We shall go if that is what you wish.”
Sarah shook her head, determined to wring a triumph from this nightmare, determined that no one should see her lose. “No, I will not run. He still has not told me what he wants.” A small part of her still wanted to believe that his intentions were honorable. That he did feel something for her. Oh, God, please.
Mr. Giles stepped into the room and announced that dinner would be served in the dining room.
Contributing further to Sarah’s discomfort, the earl escorted Catherine into dinner, a very public display of his intentions. A sharp pain pierced her heart, and she watched the two jealously. She felt a hand on her arm, and Sarah found herself accompanied by the pleasant, yet not nearly as enthralling, Mr. Mackenzie.
The meal was quite good, the conversation lively and witty. Sarah watched out the corner of her eye as the young Miss Lambert handled herself with the earl quite well. Her mother had been giving her lessons in steadfastness, it seemed. The comtesse was seated at Sarah’s right, sampling the dishes before her with her usual enthusiasm for food. The comtesse adored cooking and Sarah knew that by Monday, Juliette would be successful at replicating many of them for Alcyone’s.
Plate after plate was laid before them and then taken away, so many times that Sarah lost count. Her appetite was never equal to the comtesse’s, and tonight, all the food tasted the same. She tried to respond to Mr. Mackenzie’s queries, but her thoughts kept wandering to the one man she had no business thinking about. She took her fork and twirled it through her fingers, trying without success to keep her thoughts otherwise occupied.
She had worn a new dress this evening, a Grecian concoction that she had made especially for his party. The earl hadn’t noticed her attire. Most times, he seemed to avoid looking in her direction. If he hadn’t leapt to her rescue earlier, she would have thought the invitation had been a sham. But why had he invited her? He had avoided an answer to that question, and that worried her. Did he want her for his mistress? If he did, why did he choose to include her in his very public gathering? That made no sense, even for the earl. She lifted a bite of filet to her mouth.
“Miss Banks, I’ve believe you’ve stolen my fork.” Mr. Mackenzie smiled gently, a touch of good humor in his tone.
The fork clattered to her plate and she felt a hot blush color her cheeks. Where was her usual competent bearing, her cool composure? She silently berated herself. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been woolgathering. Please forgive me. We should get you another one.” Gallantly, the kind man looked around and signaled to the waiter. She favored him with an extravagant smile, trying desperately to make up for her unladylike faux pas. “Now what were you saying?”
“I wanted to tell how much I’ve looked forward to meeting you. You’re lovelier than the rumors implied.”
Even though the words seemed practiced and glib, his smile seemed genuine, his demeanor likeable enough, and she found herself responding in kind. “Thank you, sir. I’m sure the rumors say nothing about my penchant for stealing silver. You’ll be happy to know I’ve heard no such rumors about you.”
“I didn’t offend you, did I?”
He didn’t look sorry at all. Why, the man was flirting with her. She smiled at him. “Not at all. You’re much too congenial.”
“You put all the other ladies to shame. You wear such a demure color as rose, but it doesn’t seem disagreeing with your bright coloring. On the contrary, it makes you shine.”
“Mr. Mackenzie, if I relay your words to anyone, they’ll think I’m either a vain creature, or an insulting one. You’ve put me in an awkward situation, and it seems I’ll have to keep your compliments to myself.”
Mr. Mackenzie laughed. “No wonder Haverwood is so taken with you.”
The words washed over her, as welcome as a handful of trumps, but as of yet, she did not know the price for playing at the earl’s table. Sarah knew which games she could afford, and which she could not. A winner knew when the stakes were too high and her virtue was a price she was not willing to pay. “Do you think he’s an honorable man?”
“He’s a good friend, Miss Banks, and the most honorable man I know. Sometimes it’s almost too painful to bear, being that I lack some of man’s more noble qualities.”
So Haverwood inspired loyalty in his friends. Points for the earl. “You’ve known him long?”
“We fought together during the wars.”
The waiter appeared with the next course, and Mr. Mackenzie turned his attention to the young lady opposite him. Sarah could smell the delicious aroma of the steaming apricot soufflé in front of her, but she could not bring herself to taste it. Her nerves were stretched as tightly as a well-fed leech and she permitted herself one short, covetous glance at the host.
It was not so hard to imagine him as a soldier. He didn’t seem to appreciate the evening’s more social entertainments at all. At the head of the table, the earl was quietly eating, listening to the conversation around him, nodding or laughing when appropriate, but not joining in unless specifically obligated.
Sarah sipped her glass of sherry, watching the handsome Sir Jason Tarbuck flirt with the most serene Miss Anne Melbourne. Their easy games were part of a world that Sarah had envied and yet had never belonged to. When she had first seen the earl, she had thought him a part of the glittering world of the ton, but now she reconsidered her earlier judgment. Where she had always longed to be a part of the highest circles, he held himself aloof from them. And because of that, he belonged no more than she.
Perhaps that is why she had been drawn to him in the theater. His loneliness, his aloofness. He maintained the same walls that she did.
After dinner, the table was cleared and the men retired for port, while the ladies adjourned to the drawing room. Sarah maintained a close distance to the comtesse, discussing what she hoped was the latest fashions with Miss Melbourne, and later arguing with Miss Cumberland-Smythe about the possibility of a return from Bonaparte.
Eventually, she exhausted all her known topics of interesting conversation and found herself quietly moping in the corner with the comtesse, who sighed in sympathy at the appropriate moments. This would never do. Sarah gulped another glass of sherry—for courage—and waited. When the earl returned, she would have her answers. Sarah, never patient on the calmest of days, could wait no longer.
Chapter Seven
Colin excused himself from the gentlemen in his study as soon as he was able; saying that he needed to fetch more brandy from the pantry. Theywere getting low on brandy, but Colin’s real intent was to track down his wayward butler. This time Giles had gone entirely too far. Colin had been so careful to maintain a detached appearance toward Sarah. And now this. Mackenzie had poked him in the ribs. Jason had raised his eyebrows approv
ingly more than once. Damn the man’s interference.
“Giles!”
“Yes, sir?”
“May I speak to you privately please?”
Giles followed him out into the kitchen. “Whatever you wish, sir.”
Colin slammed the heavy door behind them. “What I wish is that you would stop meddling in my life.”
“Are you referring to Miss Banks, sir?”
“Of course I’m referring to Miss Banks!” Colin bellowed at the man, and then just as quickly, lowered his voice. “How could you, Giles?”
“With cunning and skillful preparation, not to mention a charming way with the ladies.”
“I don’t find that humorous at all. Did you ever consider what your little scheme would do toher reputation?”
“Her reputation would be improved tremendously if you would but do the honorable thing.”
“No, Giles.” Not with her. Dear God, he could not even look at her anymore. He had heard her laughing with Mackenzie and wanted to kill the man—his friend. At dinner, he could pick out the tantalizing scent she wore, even amidst the heavy smells of the food. He could barely speak two words to anyone, lest he break down and confess his lust for her, like a madman in an asylum. She was destroying every bit of the man he had tried so hard to become.
“You’re afraid.”
Colin laughed harshly. “I’m terrified. I won’t have you ruining her life because you have some misguided notion that I must marry a woman of your choosing.”
Giles’s moustache twitched impatiently. “You chose her first, sir.”
“I did notchoose her.”
“Sir, I understand your methods of courtship are somewhat understated, almost cryptic, but your intentions are completely obvious to those of us who know you well.”
Colin fisted his hands, working to control his anger, feeling the hot fire of the dragon licking at him. “I have no intentions toward Miss Banks.”
Giles quirked his brow. “You always deceived yourself so very easily.”
Colin closed his eyes and prayed, waiting for his temper to disperse. Arguing with the man was pointless. “We’re out of brandy, Giles. Make sure the decanters are filled.”
The butler clicked his heels obediently and bowed. “As you wish, sir.”
Colin watched the man go and then stalked out to the foyer, running a hand through his hair. Did everyone know what he was thinking? Was his need for her so apparent? He wished he could run and hide, but he had to marry a woman soon. His birthday was fast approaching, and the time for St. George was running out. In this, he would not fail.
“Brandy,mon ami ?”
Colin whipped around, fists clenched at his side. He glared at the gray-haired waiter, and then noticed the devilish black eyes, the unabashed grin, and exhaled slowly.
Etiénne.
Considering the tortures the night had held for him already, he should not have been surprised. He glared. “Come with me.”
Etiénne followed as Colin made his way to the library. He slammed the door shut and then folded his arms across his chest. “What?”
“Ah, Haverwood, your company is always so agreeable.”
“Did you really find it necessary to hoodwink my butler in order to talk to me? Could we have not met in some ordinary fashion? A tavern? A shop?”
“I arrived this afternoon, and your Mr. Giles assumed I was sent here to work. Who am I to turn down such an offer from a man who is obviously in much need of assistance?”
“Why are you in London, Etiénne? And, please, no more games.”
The grin faded and the careless façade was lost in an instant. “Paris is talking about the return of Bonaparte.”
“Yes, there are murmurs in England as well. Is that what you have traveled across the Channel to say? You are missing the war far too much.”
“Non.Each day, the old guard meets in Paris, Haverwood. They are making plans.”
“Do you have anything more substantial than gossip?”
“This.”
Colin took the sheet of paper and read the letter. The dark brown stains obscured some of the words, but it would be enough. He looked up and met Etiénne’s impassive gaze. “Where did you get this from?”
Etiénne shrugged. “An unlucky French officer.”
Satisfied, Colin stowed it in his pocket. “I’ll ride out to see Scovell. Will you be staying in England?”
“For a few days, no more.” He poured two glasses of brandy, handing one to Colin, and raising his glass. “Félicitations.I understand you are getting married. She is a beautiful woman,mon ami . Her hair is the color of fire, and already you are getting burned.” He laughed. “Women can be difficult,non ?”
“Married? To Miss Banks? Who told you that?” He was afraid of the answer.
“Mr. Giles, of course.” He grinned. “He is very proud of you and wanted to make your dinner tonight a smashing success.”
His dinner. His guests. Damn. “I must return.”
“Of course, your woman is waiting.”
His woman? Only in his dreams. Over time, he had learned to ignore the old earl’s laughter, but he could not abide the thought of Sarah’s screams.
Sarah had rehearsed her words in her head and was silently reciting them for the seventh time when Catherine Lambert appeared at her side.
“Miss Banks!” The girl was attired in a white frock with layers of lace, resembling either Boucher’s portrait of Madame Pompadour or an over-iced sweetmeat. “So glad you’re here this evening. Don’t you think it’s all rather tedious? I so much more enjoy dancing than conversation.”
Sarah searched for the girl’s mother, but she was safely across the room. Immensely relieved, she gave Catherine an encouraging smile. “Miss Lambert, you appear in good spirits tonight. Your courage seems to be in greater supply this evening.”
“It’s actually the three glasses of sherry and the most-favored attentions of Mr. Lawson.” Catherine shot a worried glance in the direction of Mrs. Lambert. “Please don’t tell my mother.”
Sarah looked about in a furtive manner. “Your secret is quite safe with me. Mr. Lawson is very handsome.”
The young girl’s eyes turned dreamy. “Oh, yes, and he doesn’t frighten me at all. Not like the earl. Mother would rather chew nails than give up her aspirations for me, but I’m hopeful.”
Sarah admired the girl’s pluck and wished her well. “Your mother simply wants the best for you.” And that was the earl. Why was it so difficult for Sarah to accept the truth of the situation? Each time her head argued with the realities of their stations, her heart flailed angrily.
“Perhaps you could help me extricate myself,” Catherine said with excitement, sending her lace bobbing once more.
“I’m quite the wrong person to sway your mother.”
Catherine looked at her with the cunning of a young child. “No, but you could sway the earl.”
“I think not.” If she but could.
“He speaks quite highly of you.”
“I don’t need to hear this, Catherine.”
“Oh, but you must! Think what he has done by your invitation this evening.”
“He hasn’t done anything at all.” She had had such high hopes for this evening, after Iris had told her of his visit. Yet the evening was nearly over and she was not a bit ahead from where she had started. Publicly, the earl’s intentions clearly belonged with Miss Lambert. The earl’s private intentions were a mystery that Sarah intended to solve before the evening was done.
“Miss Banks, I may be young, but I’m not completely without wits.”
“Such bold words from a girl who just a few night ago was cowering with fear.”
Catherine blushed with pleasure. “Please, Miss Banks. Will you talk with him? He barely spoke to me at all at dinner. Mother kept kicking me under the table, reminding me to do my best to keep him entertained. Would you like to see my shins? Covered in bruises.”
Sarah sighed. “Miss Lambert—”
“Catherine. You must call me Catherine. And then I can call you Sarah! We’ll be friends, aye?”
Sarah sighed again, more loudly this time, as the girl seemed to ignore her earlier hint. “Catherine, I barely know the man.”
Catherine carried on, completely oblivious. “Yes, but after what he did to Mrs. Stoutland? Don’t you think that means something?”
Mrs. Stoutland? Who was that?“What did he do?”
“Bought up all her husband’s markers and appeared at her home, threatening murder if she insulted you again, like she did at Westover’s ball. The woman was terrified. Mother says her hair whitened immeasurably, just because the earl scared her so. And this is whom she wants me to marry? A man who can turn a woman’s hair white, just by raising his voice. I like my hair, Miss Banks. Please tell me you’ll help.”
Sarah reached behind her, searching for the support of a wall, a chair, anything would do at all. She found the comtesse’s arm and made do.
“He did all that?”For me. Dear heavens.
“Oh, yes, was stomping about the room like a bull in a rage. Broke her best crystal vase. They say that it had been in her family for generations. Mrs. Stoutland thought he was going to murder her.”
Sarah found her voice, the sound coming from far away. “Catherine, would you leave us, please? Let me think on it. If I can do something, I will.”
The girl left, and Sarah whirled around to face the comtesse. “Did you hear that?”
Juliette shook her head slowly. “I heard nothing more than gossip,chérie .”
Damn the woman for not believing. “But what if it’s true?”
“As true as your father’s wager with the earl? You forget that much of what is relayed is lies.”
Sarah felt her cheeks grow hot, with embarrassment and anger. “Why would anyone tell such tales?”
The comtesse patted Sarah on the hand, as if she were a disobedient puppy. “Perhaps they wanted to win a bet. I do not know what the man wants from you, or what enjoyment he is having at your expense, but I do not want to see you hurt. I had high hopes when he greeted you tonight, but after that he has ignored you to the point of rudeness. Your chances are not favorable,oui ? There are others, more constant, who would welcome the opportunity to court you. You should not look so high for your prospects.”
Touched by Fire Page 9