“I don’t care about the jewels. I want nothing that reminds me of my former wife. Find out who is bothering Lady Downey. And put a man outside her shop to keep an eye on who enters. I don’t care what it costs, just do it.” Philip left and slammed the door.
He didn’t want to care, truly, but it was a bitter pill. He’d given Caroline that ruby necklace for her birthday, and she’d thanked him quite well for it. But obviously the necklace meant nothing to her. She’d given it away to some swindler.
What the hell had Caroline seen in Lord Downey anyway? Philip gave her gifts; Downey took her pretty things and gambled them away. Philip had loved her, but Downey was clearly only capable of loving himself. Well, no more. The man was dead.
After the pulsating of his blood through his veins slowed, Philip found himself standing in front of the jewelers. He walked in the front door and over to the counter. Red stones had always drawn his eye, so he took special notice of the ruby necklaces in the case. He’d intended only to buy one, a parting gift for Miranda, but he recalled his vision of Lady Downey in rubies. Perhaps he’d procure one for her, too. He’d already asked the clerk to show him the necklaces when a third piece caught his eye: an exquisite emerald pendant. It would suit Sara’s soft green eyes. He envisioned her standing in his bedroom, adorned only in the emerald necklace and her sable curls.
He purchased all three necklaces and left.
***
Philip strode up the steps and knocked on the door. He should have done this long ago, but he’d put it off, knowing the theatrics it would bring. With any luck, the gift he’d brought her would help him avoid a scene.
The door opened quietly and he entered.
Which was when the screaming started.
“How dare you treat me so!” Miranda railed at him, hands on her hips. “You told me you would be here last night. How dare you ignore me! When I said you could come to me, I expected you to be here. I will be treated with respect. Do you hear me, Brentwood? When I want you, you are to come!” Miranda paced as she yelled.
Her thin night robe fell open, allowing Philip a clear look at her bared breasts, which bounced becomingly with her furious tirade. She was beautiful, but she was also controlling, manipulative, nasty, and vindictive.
Had he purposefully chosen to involve himself with a woman he could never love?
“Aren’t you going to say anything? No apology? Nothing?” She glared at him with her hands still on her hips, making no attempt to cover her nudity. She knew how to flaunt her best assets.
Philip reached into his pocket and pulled out the package. He held it out to her. “Miranda, our time together has been wonderful, but it’s over. Accept this gift as a token of my appreciation for everything we’ve shared.”
Miranda reached out to grab the package. She quickly tore the wrapping off, her mouth forming a perfect circle.
“Oh, Philip! It is beautiful. You know how I love rubies.”
She put the necklace on quickly and fell to her knees in front of him, but he caught her before she could touch him. “I’m not here for that. Our time is done.”
“Allow me to convince you otherwise,” she said, reaching for his pants.
“No. It’s over. Good-bye.” He intended to leave, but she grabbed his neckcloth. He turned back to face her, surprised to see her expression.
Miranda’s face had turned a deep shade of red, something he’d not seen often. Then she surprised him even more.
She slapped him.
“You bastard! Who is she? How dare you.” Her arms rotated like windmills, her nails trying to rake every part of him within reach.
“Miranda, stop.” Philip grabbed both of her wrists to put an end to her flailing.
“No, I won’t! You son of a bitch. Nobody leaves me. I leave them. Get out! Get out and never come back. But you will be back. Two days from now, you will be groveling at my doorstep. I am the most desired woman in London. You will want me, Brentwood, and I won’t give you the time of day.”
Philip let go of her hands. There was only one thing he could say: the truth, though he guessed it would be a while before she believed it. “It’s over, Miranda.”
Miranda slapped him again, hard across the cheek.
Philip opened the door and left.
Chapter Thirteen
Three days later, Sara peeked out the window and saw Phoebe’s carriage pull up in front of her store. She set her sign to “Closed” and locked up with her new set of keys.
The door of the carriage opened, and Phoebe beckoned to her from inside. “Come on, Sara. We have important work to do…shop!”
She giggled as her friend tugged her inside. The cushion was made of fine velvet, a fabric that would have made a lovely winter gown, and she ran her fingers across it as Phoebe leaned forward to give the driver instructions. “You recall that wonderful shop with all the buttons? That’s where we’re headed today.”
“Aye, my lady.” The man climbed up to his seat and flicked the reins. The horses began moving forward at a steady clip, the carriage rolling smoothly over the road.
“Phoebe, I have been anticipating this outing all week.” It felt as if her smile warmed her entire face.
“Sara, I have forgotten how stunning you are.” She shook her head with her pronouncement. “You, my dear, need a man.”
Sara blushed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Duncan told me every day of our marriage how homely I am. Please stop flattering me.”
Phoebe’s voice softened. “Ah, you are modest and innocent still, I think. Trust me when I tell you that many men would wish to take you to wife.”
“Enough about me. I want to hear about your family. Were you not expecting a short while ago?”
“Oh, yes! Ardleigh and I have a precious little girl, Abigail. Why, she lights up my day. You should see Edward with her. I swear she already has him wrapped right around her little finger. He just cannot stay away from her, he adores her so.” Phoebe’s face radiated excitement as she spoke. It was obvious Abigail had her mother wrapped around her finger as well.
“Goodness. Who is she with while you shop?” Sara asked.
“Oh, Ardleigh is home along with her nanny. He has been pushing me to go out more lately. I don’t want to leave her, but I think he is right. I am so glad you came today, Sara.” Phoebe reached over and gave her a quick hug.
They discussed all the current fashions and accessories. Time passed quickly, and they soon found themselves in front of the shop Phoebe had told her about.
When they stepped inside, Sara released a slow sigh, turning in a circle to admire the containers of beads lining the walls. She’d always loved shops like this. Although she had few memories of her mother, her father had told her plenty of stories. Her mother had loved sewing just as much as she did, and the treasured reticule was of her own creation.
There were two rooms for them to go through. They selected beads for Phoebe’s ball gown. Then Sara found beads the perfect shade for the dowager duchess’s gown. By the time she was done, she had chosen several varieties to use in her shop.
“We did not find what we came for, though. I am sorry, Sara. I really believed there was a large enough selection to find every kind of bead. I had hoped you’d find the ones you’re seeking.”
Sara placed a hand on her friend’s arm. “It is all right that I didn’t find the exact kind to complement my mother’s bag. When I need to, I will find them. I am happy I found the ones that I need right now. If the Dowager Duchess of Brentwood is happy with my designs, I’ll get more business than I can handle. Thank you, Phoebe.”
They waited while their purchases were wrapped, and then they climbed back into the carriage.
“Now I must insist that you come to my house to see my lovely daughter. We can have tea and sandwiches while you are there.”
Sara turned her head so Phoebe would not see the tears in her eyes. “I would love nothing more.”
***
Philip sat in Ardleigh’s
library.
The Earl of Ardleigh shook his head and said to his friend, “Tell me again what you know so far, Brentwood.”
“Lady Downey is being blackmailed for her husband’s gambling debts. They killed him first, presumably to put an end to his gambling, but now they expect her to pay. That’s what your man told me, though he could work a bit faster. He is awfully slow, Ardleigh.”
“You wanted someone discreet,” his friend said with a shrug. “He’s discreet, though he may not be the best. Never mind that. Lord Downey is really dead? I’ve heard the rumors, but is there any proof?”
“No, but I’m having your man look into it.” Philip couldn’t stop himself from pacing the room.
“I knew he was a gambler, but I didn’t realize his problem was so serious. He must owe a bundle to have lost his life over it. And if it’s true, where do you suppose Caroline is now?” Ardleigh steepled his fingers. “How were you able to get a divorce from her? Must have cost you a great deal of money, since I have only heard of one other divorce granted this year.” Ardleigh waited for an answer but didn’t get one. “I suspect it was a wise move as you may see her again soon. Do you think she will attempt to come back to you if the baron’s dead?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. Tell me what you know about Downey.”
“You aren’t going to like what I tell you. I can see you have some special interest in Lady Downey, and I know how protective you can be.” Ardleigh raised his eyebrows at Brentwood to gauge his reaction.
“Never mind about my interests. Tell me about their marriage.” Philip continued to pace around the room as they talked.
Ardleigh leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. “Well, I am not sure how they met, but Duncan was as happy as any man when he married her, although I suspect it was more over her dowry than any special feelings for her. She is not from London. It was an arranged marriage. Her father’s health was not good, and he wanted to make sure she was taken care of before he died. He was of new money, apparently. Wanted to get his daughter a title to go with her fortune. He just wasn’t thorough enough about looking into the baron’s background.”
Philip stopped to ask, “When did her father die?”
“Shortly after their wedding. Phoebe met Sara at a dress shop in town. They became fast friends, but Phoebe didn’t like the things she heard from Sara about her husband. She always wanted me to intervene. I felt uncomfortable with the situation, but she had no family to support her after her father died.”
Brentwood flexed his fists as he paced. He stopped occasionally to focus on his friend. “Why did Phoebe want you to intervene? What did the bastard do to her?”
Ardleigh frowned and sat up in his chair. “He beat her once. Phoebe was upset because she hadn’t seen Sara at any of the recent ton events. She called on her and was shocked to see her condition. Her face was black and blue. Phoebe actually thought she saw fingerprints on Sara’s neck. I did threaten the bastard over that one. Phoebe was beside herself. I think he got my message. As far as I know, he never beat her again.”
“Anything else?”
“My only other recollection is that he always belittled Sara. I don’t know how anyone could look at Sara and call her homely, but he did. I remember one particular night at the opera he ridiculed her dress. He wanted to know why she didn’t know enough to dress like the other women. I think he called her a cow. He was trying to whisper in her ear, but I caught bits and pieces. I asked Phoebe about it later. How could anyone look at Sara and call her a cow? The woman is exquisite. I guess he was one of those sick bastards who control women through intimidation. They did not go out much after they married. He probably did not want to spend the money.”
Philip finally sat in a chair and leaned forward on his elbows. “Rotten bastard. I wish he were alive so I could kill him again.”
Ardleigh spoke quietly to his friend. “What I can’t figure out is why Caroline would go with him. No offense, Brentwood, but your wife was not the type to be easily intimidated.”
***
On their trip back to Phoebe’s home, Sara finally confided a bit of her troubles to her friend. Phoebe promised to speak to Ardleigh about Stinky’s visits. Although nothing had been resolved, Sara allowed herself to hope. It had felt good to unburden herself—she already felt so much less alone.
They walked up the steps to the estate, overloaded with packages, laughing over a story Phoebe had just finished.
“Come, Sara, I cannot wait to show you my Abigail.” The butler helped them move their parcels into the day room. A maid took their coats, and Sara dropped onto the settee, a joyous feeling permeating her body, something she had not experienced for a long time.
Phoebe stood at the door. “Pardon me just a moment. I will run up to the nursery.”
She returned shortly with her beautiful, plump daughter in her arms.
“Sara, I want you to meet our daughter, Abigail.” Phoebe’s face beamed with pride as she turned her baby toward Sara.
Sara froze. She had never seen a baby up close, only from a distance. What a beautiful child. She reached over and ran her finger down Abigail’s arm. Her skin was soft and flawless, and she smelled like sunshine. Sara smiled at the cherubic face, surprised to see her smile returned. Abigail kicked her legs and bounced her arms up and down.
“Oh my!” Sara exclaimed as she started. “Why, she is so expressive, Phoebe. What a happy child.”
“Have you ever held a baby before?” she asked. “Would you like to hold her?”
“I have never held a baby. You will have to show me how.” Sara blushed.
Phoebe motioned her to the wingback chair in the corner. “Sit right here, and I will set her on your lap. Can you manage with your finger?”
Sara hurried over and sat gingerly. “I am sure I can manage. You won’t leave me, Phoebe. I wouldn’t know what to do if she cried.” She held her arms out to her friend.
Phoebe carefully placed Abigail in Sara’s arms. “Why, there is nothing to it, Sara. You will be a natural. So long as a child knows they are in loving arms, they will be fine. You just have to support her neck when you move her.”
Sara settled the baby into her arms and stared at her, spellbound by the tiny creature.
“I must let my husband know we’ve returned. I’ll be right back. You’ll be fine with her.” Phoebe left quickly before Sara realized what she’d said.
Alone in the room, Sara smiled down at Abigail. “Oh, my word. You are a precious thing.” She gently kissed her cheek, taking in the child’s scent. Abigail smiled up at her.
“Oh, Abigail. I didn’t think I would ever want a child. But perhaps I was wrong. What a wonderful gift you are to your parents. Of course, I would need to be married. I certainly couldn’t bring someone like you into this world without a wonderful father. And the last man I married would have been a dreadful father. I guess motherhood wasn’t meant to be for me. Hopefully, your mother will allow me the pleasure of watching you grow.” She sighed when the little girl grabbed her finger into a tight fist.
Sara heard a noise and turned to see Philip St. James standing in the doorway observing her.
***
Philip had watched from the library window as Phoebe and Sara disembarked from the carriage. It had given him pleasure to see Sara look so lighthearted with her friend, laughing and smiling as if she did not have the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was even more beautiful like this.
“Ah, good,” Ardleigh said. “I see Phoebe had a good time with Sara today. I can tell by the number of packages she has in her hands.”
Some minutes later, Phoebe strode into the library and gave her husband a kiss.
“Ardleigh, we had such a wonderful time at the shops. Greetings, Your Grace. It is so nice to see you.” She offered her hand to Philip and curtsied.
Philip smiled at Phoebe. He couldn’t help but smile whenever he saw his friend with his wife. They truly were in love. Would he ever know t
hat feeling?
“You look lovely today, Lady Ardleigh. Excuse me for a moment, won’t you?”
Philip stepped out of the room. He felt like he was intruding and wanted to give them a moment alone. Meandering down the hallway, he heard a soft voice and followed it. Stopping outside a doorway, he peeked in to find Sara with the Ardleigh baby in her lap. He listened to her prattle on to the child for a moment before realizing she wasn’t cooing sweet nothings. She was talking to the babe, very seriously, it seemed, about her chances of ever becoming a mother.
Seeing her like this tugged at his heart. Oh, she was lovely. Sweet and kind and beautiful. How was he going to be able to ensure that Sara’s troubles were over? He wanted to do that for her. He needed to protect this woman, to stop the pain and tragedy in her life. She did not deserve it. He vowed to help her, whatever the cost.
Chapter Fourteen
The day of the Ardleigh ball had finally arrived. Sara had refused Phoebe’s repeated invitations. Although it would be viewed as acceptable were she to attend alone—she was a widow, after all, and Phoebe was a close friend—she didn’t wish to be maligned by gossips like Miranda Montrose. The world didn’t know her husband was dead, though some had surely heard the rumors. Besides which, she knew she didn’t have much time to raise money for Stinky.
Sara counted her coins again, sighing as she realized she was one-third short of what she needed. One large order hung in the front room for a very wealthy client to pick up. If she received the money in time, she should be safe from Stinky. Only a week had passed, but Sara could not depend on Stinky’s ability to count the days correctly.
She paced through her shop. Both doors were locked and bolted, but she checked them multiple times to be sure. Finally, she forced herself to sit at her table and work on her sketchbook. She loved to design most of all.
After a few hours, she noticed the sun had dropped. She grabbed a piece of stale bread from her cupboard upstairs. One lone apple sat on her kitchen table. She sighed and brought both things back downstairs to eat while she sketched. Her mind needed to stay busy or nerves would overtake her.
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