by Laura Parker
“Alas no, my lady,” Sabrina answered, surprised that the countess would make such a conjecture. “Yet it is most fortunate that we have met today. Most fortunate.” She cast a doubtful glance that fell just short of the viscount’s face. “I must speak with you, privately, please.”
Sabrina’s plea brought a renewed frown to Lotte’s face but it cleared almost at once. “The very thing, my dear. But first allow me to present you to Lord Darlington. Darlington, do say you remember my little companion, Miss Lyndsey.”
“I’ve had the pleasure,” he answered lazily, not bothering to even glance at Sabrina. “It seems providence has been kind to us both this morning, countess.”
“Yes, it is providence,” Lotte concurred. She noted Sabrina’s rising color at the viscount’s slight. Yet she was never one to imagine discomfort when it might be ignored. She squeezed Sabrina’s arm to reassure her and continued in a lighthearted manner. “Fortune smiles most particularly on me these days. The most enviable run of luck at cards has been mine since arriving in The Bath.”
She laughed gaily, the kind of feminine laughter that though not loud enticed masculine heads to turn in her direction. “I positively believe I shall leave the town and my friends beggared.”
“An enviable position, indeed,” Jack answered.
“You need put forth little effort, Darlington,” she assured him. “Of an evening, Bath seems rife with plump pockets. However, there’s been too little to occupy my days. Now that you and Sabrina are here, I am saved from this interminable dullness!”
She hugged Sabrina a second time. “I am so very happy you’ve come! We shall make a party of it.” She cast an encouraging glance at Darlington. “The viscount may join us, to keep us from lamenting the lack of an escort.”
“I am yours to command,” he returned with unusual warmth.
“I’ve a house in Kingsmeade Square.” She lowered her lashes and then lifted them. “You may find me dining in this evening.”
“Then I shall bid you adieu. “He gave her a respectful bow. “Miss Sabrina,” he added with a lessening of warmth to match the sketchier bow he offered her.
“What a very odd gentleman,” Sabrina declared when he had turned away.
Lotte gave Sabrina a sharp glance. “I do not find Lord Darlington’s company taxing. Quite to the contrary. He is most stimulating company. No doubt when you have been wed a year,” she added wistfully, “you will appreciate for the better the viscount’s unique qualities.”
She linked her arm familiarly through Sabrina’s, as if she were herself a young maiden just debuted instead of a well-married matron of the aristocracy. “But I will own, I can’t imagine why Darlington would cut you.” She chuckled at Sabrina’s look of surprise. “Yes, of course, I noticed. A blind man would have.”
Sabrina blushed. The viscount had publicly snubbed her after minutes’ earlier making her the object of his attention. She had felt summarily dismissed, like a precocious child whose antics had served to amuse until adult company had come along to supplant her. “I am, after all, a commoner,” she reasoned aloud. “Quite beneath his regard.”
“Rubbish! The viscount never allows station to dictate his tastes in feminine beauty.” She hugged the younger woman’s arm with her own. “But Sabrina, dear, you must be on guard with gentlemen like the viscount. He is notorious for his … well, perhaps I shouldn’t…” She pinkened. “Just think of him as a hawk. One observes such a creature with an admiration for its magnificence and beauty. But one approaches it with the knowledge that its talons are deadly and its beak can rip tender flesh from the bone.”
An apt analogy, Sabrina agreed but she knew better than to express any interest in the disreputable nobleman. Lotte was keen-eyed and sharp-nosed when it came to affairs of the heart. “I doubt I shall have the opportunity to use your sage advice, Countess, yet I thank you for it.”
“Oh, you shall see Darlington again, and soon.” She smiled with mischief. “ ‘Blackjack’ has promised to call on us!”
“Blackjack?” Sabrina repeated in surprise.
Lotte laughed. “It is naughty of me, I admit, but I am responsible for the nickname. I remarked upon it the very first time that I laid eyes upon him. It must be quite some six months ago, now. I was playing a hand in Lord and Lady Greenwich’s card room when he entered, dressed all in black and his skin as golden as one of those colonial Indians one hears about. ‘There’s the Blackjack I’ve been looking for,’ I whispered to my partner. I’d been in want of the Jack of Spades to complete my hand, you see.”
“How droll,” Sabrina answered though she had no charitable thoughts to spare the man.
“One must own,” Lotte continued in a rapturous voice, “that he is the most dashing gentleman of one’s acquaintance.”
Sabrina glanced sideways at the countess. Really, she could not understand Lotte’s besotted expression, certainly not when she had a perfectly good, wealthy, and handsome husband in her pocket.
Annoyance flared to impatience when from the corner of her eye she spied Sophie entering the Pump Room. The maid motioned for her, the agitation in her furtive summons apparent. No doubt the time allotted her to visit the spa room was up. “Confound it all,” she muttered.
“What is it, dear?”
To cover her slip, Sabrina turned a bright smile on the countess. “My hostess considers promptness to be among the chief virtues. I must leave now but I promise to come and see you very soon. Perhaps tomorrow, if it pleases you.”
“Don’t be silly. You are welcome any time. In fact, you must come with me in my carriage. I insist upon seeing you home.”
Sabrina hesitated only a moment. She did not look forward to the trek home through winding streets wet with rain. “Oh, do you suppose I might?”
Lotte offered her a dazzling smile. “I shan’t accept anything else. You have yet to tell me what you are doing here in The Bath and why you did not mention the proposed journey before you left London. Come along, I did not wish to take the waters in any case. My stomach has been delicate of late. I can’t account for it but I’m certain those noxious waters will not improve it.”
“But that is dreadful news,” Lotte declared when Sabrina had informed her of the reason for her sojourn in Bath. “Lord Merripace is the last sort of person for you.”
“Then you do not think my aversion to this marriage to be wrong-headed?” Sabrina asked in an encouraging manner.
“Indeed not,” Lotte answered. “The marquis has buried two wives already, which would seem enough for any man. There are daughters, three of them. All older than you, I believe, though in truth I do not know them. I suppose he is considering a third marriage because he has no heir as yet.”
“I have set eyes upon him only once,” Sabrina said. “He smells of snuff.”
“I wish I could claim your slight acquaintance,” Lotte allowed with the frankness that was her nature. “Merripace is one of Lord Randolph’s political allies. Ran tolerates the marquis because of his influence in the House of Lords. But marriage to him would be quite another thing.”
“He is very ugly.”
Lotte glanced at her companion with renewed sympathy. “If it were only that, my dear. I sat beside Merripace at dinner once and it quite spoiled the meal. His linen was dirty, his lace a disgrace. He does not subscribe to the modern toilette of the weekly bath. He told Ran he believes that bathing disturbs the bodily humors and allows in disease.” Lotte wrinkled her nose. “No doubt he is not in error to a degree. The third remove at dinner had barely been placed before me when I saw with my own eyes a louse dangling from his wig in hopes of finding more wholesome prey.”
Sabrina shared Lotte’s reaction of a shudder.
Lotte reached out and gave Sabrina’s hand a squeeze. “Oh, but you cannot be forced to marry him, dearest. Your guardian will surely come to see reason in your refusal.”
Sabrina reclined against the satin squabs of the countess’s
carriage seat. “You do not know Cousin Robert.”
“Perhaps if Ran …” Lotte began only to shake her head. “Or perhaps not. My husband is a positive stickler for the rules. He might advise that if your guardian has no objection to the match, no objection should be made.”
“I shall not be forced to wed, even if I am beaten and starved.”
Lotte’s gaze settled on her younger friend with the appraising acumen of a lady sizing up the value of a diamond diadem. Though her sympathies were with Sabrina, she could well imagine Ran’s argument in favor of Lord Merripace’s suit. After a moment’s thought she, too, could see the good to be had for her friend in making such a match.
“You do see the honor such a proposal does you? After all, the marriage would set the ascendancy of your family. Only think, Sabrina! You’ll become a member of the aristocracy.”
That thought considerably brightened Lotte’s point of view. “Why then, we would be equals. We could go everywhere together, the opera, the king’s balls, everywhere! Your children will assume titles, your grandchildren may aspire to a greatness unexpected until now.” She flushed. “I mean you no offense, my dear, but without a match such as this, you are doomed to remain a cit.”
The suggestion that she should consider trading her freedom for a coronet fanned the flames of Sabrina’s mutinous fervor. “A title means nothing to me. Nothing, do you hear me!”
Lotte’s red-gold brows lifted in offense. “Why such heat, Sabrina?”
“I mean no offense to you, my lady. Yet when I think of Kit and how he may be suffering—” Sabrina paused to control the sentiments that urged her toward another outburst.
Despite the fact that Ran thought public displays of tender-heartedness were undignified, Lotte could never bear to see a friend in distress and not offer comfort. She leaned forward and caught Sabrina’s hands in hers. “What is it, dear?”
Sabrina shook her head, not wishing to reveal all her troubles at once.
Lotte shook her impatiently by the arm. “Come, I cannot help you if you will not be frank.”
Sabrina looked up at the frank blue gaze regarding her and smiled despite her distress. “Very well, Countess. I’ve not told you everything.”
“There’s more?” Lotte’s china blue eyes lit up in anticipation. Although she was a loyal and trustworthy friend, there was little in ordinary life that she enjoyed more than gossip and contretemps, especially if she were one of the lucky few in possession of the true facts. “By all means, enlighten me. I cannot provide you good counsel unless I am privy to the whole tale.”
Sabrina was surprised by her own reluctance to reveal the truth. “I believe our guardian means my brother harm.”
Lotte’s mouth formed an 0 of astonishment. “Surely that cannot be.”
“Kit is the rightful heir to the Lyndsey inheritance. Once he reaches his majority, he will be able to challenge our cousin’s claim of his illegitimacy.”
Lotte’s expression reflected her doubts. “Now Sabrina, that matter was settled by the king himself months ago. Kit was the result of your father’s liaison with his mistress and is therefore not entitled to tuppence.”
“’Tis a lie. I saw my father and Kit’s mother married with my own eyes. Yet as a woman I could not appear in a court of law without my guardian’s consent. I believe Cousin Robert destroyed documents and threatened my father’s servants into silence. That is how he succeeded in having Kit disinherited.”
“You make grave accusations, dear.”
“I’ve more to make. Kit is a frail child. The Scottish clime to which our guardian has banished him is little more than a death sentence.” Sabrina took a deep breath in anticipation of voicing thoughts she had never before given the breath of speech. “Cousin Robert would like nothing better than for a chill or the ague to carry Kit away.” She met her friend’s bewildered gaze. “I believe he would have Kit drowned or smothered if he thought he might get away with it.”
“Sabrina!” Lotte’s tone expressed the full extent of her shock.
Sabrina answered with perfect calm. “If I do not marry Merripace as my guardian wishes, he will allow Kit to die. He said as much before exiling me here. Do you not see my dilemma?”
“I see ’tis a devil of coil,” Lotte allowed. She sank back against the satin bolsters to give her present thoughts deep consideration.
Finally, when two tiny indentations had marked her brow for some seconds, she shook her head and released the nether lip she had sucked in during her deliberation. “Alas, what can you do, Sabrina?”
“I am determined to steal Kit away from my cousin’s care.”
Lotte felt astonish register anew. “To what purpose, Sabrina? Do but think. You shall be found out and dragged home in disgrace that may forever shadow your life. Would it not be better to marry and then petition your new husband to take Kit into his care?”
“Do you think Lord Merripace will welcome in to his home the one person who might later challenge him for the rightful guardianship of my inheritance?”
“I had not thought so far as that,” Lotte admitted, for keen analysis of difficult matters usually gave her the megrims. But Sabrina was her friend so she did not, as was usual, abandon her efforts at critical thinking. “If Kit were to receive the benefits of his wealth through your largess, could you not persuade him against the need to claim it outright?”
Sabrina shook her head. “I do not hold so good an opinion of my future husband as you do. Why should Lord Merripace take in a commoner’s bastard? It would be an intolerable reminder to him that his new wife’s antecedents are not all they might be.”
Lotte waved this objection away with a flutter of a perfectly manicured hand. “Mayhap Merripace can be won over. Maman says a man may be won over by any woman of good sense and right determination.” She frowned, wondering why she had failed so miserably to follow that advice. Thoughts of Ran so depressed her that she immediately dismissed them.
“Think of it. Once you are wed you shall have a fortune at your disposal. I shall help you, of course, to set up your home, plan your first ball, oh, so many things!”
“I’d rather be poor than wed,” Sabrina answered.
“That is because you have no experience of destitution,” Lotte snapped, thinking of her own upbringing in genteel poverty.
“I am determined on this point,” Sabrina rejoined. “I will do anything, suffer anything, to save Kit’s life, even if it means leaving England forever.”
“Bosh! No one wishes to leave England. Wherever else is there?” Lotte asked with the certainty of one who knows her place in the world. “I will not further your aspiration in that direction. The sensible thing would be to set yourself to the task at hand. A son, Sabrina! Give Merripace a son who will inherit the title and the fortune you bring him.”
Even as the final words of wisdom tumbled out of her mouth Lotte recalled again the episode of Merripace and the louse, and shivered. “Oh, very well, you are correct. It is an untenable position for you but I do not see how you may win against your guardian. Perhaps if you were to win the affections of another noble suitor …”
Sabrina shook her head. “Gentlemen seem to me of a breed. All are hypocrites, liars, and deceivers. None may be trusted.” She gave a quick disarming smile. “Your own dear lord is the exception, of course.”
“Perhaps not,” Lotte murmured, forced to think again of her betrayed feelings. “But I promise I will speak to Lord Randolph about your dilemma.” She added darkly, “Directly we are speaking again.”
“Is Lord Lovelace not in Bath with you?”
Lotte lifted suspiciously shining eyes to her companion. “No, for you see, my dear, I have run away from London.”
Sabrina’s own extremity of circumstance was momentarily forgotten. “But, Countess, why?”
“Because Ran—Lord Randolph has taken a mistress!” Lotte was determined not to burst into tears but she did, great heaving sobs that
quite surprised her in their violence and duration.
“My poor dear lady,” Sabrina crooned in comfort as she held her weeping friend in her arms. “Men are rotters! The lot of them! How can your husband so mistreat you when it is so very plain that you love him more than life itself? Hush, Lady Charlotte, hush. You will make yourself unwell.”
“Lotte,” the countess answered on a hiccup. “If we are t-to be confidantes, you may ca-call me Lotte.”
“Very well, Lotte,” Sabrina replied soothingly. “But I am perfectly certain his lordship will rethink the matter and come to his senses. A mistress is but a passing fancy, as soon forgotten as last week’s gossip.”
Lotte dabbed at her flowing eyes with a handkerchief. “If that were all.” She shrugged helplessly. “But it is not. There was a terrible fight. He mentioned divorce.”
“Divorce?” Sabrina echoed with the faint awe of one repeating a curse.
Lotte nodded vigorously. “ ’Tis all on account of my wretched streak of bad luck at cards. Lord Randolph would not forgive me for losing what to my mind is a very small, well, nearly small sum.”
“You say you are winning a fortune here in The Bath,” Sabrina reminded her in hopes of consolation. “Surely Lord Lovelace will be mollified by that news. You can repay your debts from your present winnings.”
Lotte lifted her tear-streaked face. “ ’Tis a lie. I’ve lost more here in Bath than my previous debts in London. I only said I was winning to—to—” She blushed like a maid caught with a footman. “To impress Lord Darlington.
“Ran shall be furious when he hears,” Lotte continued, unable to halt her confession now that she had begun it. “If he should refuse to pay, I shall be forced to sell my jewels. How can he be so hard-hearted? A mistress! Upon whom he spends his money. Just so! Yet, he will not pay his own wife’s small debts. ’Tis atrocious! I shan’t be treated this way!”
The weeping continued some moments longer until the coachman pulled before the address given.
“Oh, are we arrived?” Lotte questioned, pulling suddenly out of her friend’s solicitous embrace. “I can’t think why I—I so lost control.” She produced a slight abashed smile. “Everything ha-has been so-oo topsy-turvy. I cannot eat. I do not sleep. Of late, I am ill upon every awakening.”