A Stolen Season (8 page)

Lord Earnston clasped her just above her hip and an exhilaration of desire shot to her core. She firmly fixed her attention over his shoulder and readied herself for the torture of the waltz.

And then they were moving, flowing and twirling around the dance floor between other couples. The turns were fast, almost dizzying, in fact. This time, however, Sarah was prepared and met each step with a little more grace than before. Excitement thrummed in her veins at being back in Lord Earnston’s arms. To have his whole attention fixed only on her left her breathless.

Sarah looked about the room and noted the other couples enjoying the dance. The gentlemen, so handsome in their satin knee-breeches and perfectly cut coats. The women on their arms beautifully dressed and the paradigm of Regency fashion. The gilded walls, enormous mirrors and magnificent artwork made the ballroom look like a scene from a period movie. A wholly magical experience.

“You look,” his lordship paused, “very beautiful, Miss Baxter.”

“Is it customary, my lord, to praise so in society? Will you not be scolded should any one find out you spoke to me in such a way?”

Lord Earnston smiled. “I will not tell if you do not.”

Her gaze veered to his lips, and hers suddenly felt dry. Refusing to lick them she took a calming breath instead. “Your secret is safe with me. And thank you for the compliment.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said, his gaze heated.

Sarah held back the squeak of alarm when he pulled her closer than he ought. She looked at Richard over his lordship’s shoulder and noted his pleased grin. Well, she supposed he would be happy. Here she was, getting cozy with the lord with no effort on Richard’s part at all.

“Did you end up buying any peculiars, Miss Baxter?”

She frowned. “Ah, no, my lord. There was nothing that caught my fancy.”

“Was there not?”

Something in his lordship’s tone gave Sarah pause. As if he was trying to get at something else. Was he flirting with her? Or was he suspicious? “No, but there are plenty of other antique stores in London. I’m sure I will find something among them that will take my fancy.”

“I should imagine so.” Lord Earnston pulled her into a quick turn. Sarah laughed and clasped his lordship tighter. “Are you still free to ride tomorrow morning, Miss Baxter?”

“Yes,” she said out of breath. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“That would then make two of us.”

Sarah deliberately ignored the double entendre hanging between them. It was merely her twenty-first century mind thinking dirty. “I have informed my maid, so you’ll not need to scold me this time.”

Lord Earnston grinned. “What a shame. I was hoping you’d buck convention and not bring one along.”

Sarah refused to blink. “Liar.”

“You know, Miss Baxter, you’re the second person this eve to label me thus.”

“Really?” she said, curious. “Can you tell me why?”

Lord Earnston swung her in to another tight turn.

“Lord Mettleston believes — now prepare yourself to hear something quite shocking — I have formed a tendre for a lady here present tonight.”

Sarah’s heart raced. She bit her lip and wondered what the social protocol was when a gentleman shared such a personal tidbit. She was pretty sure she should tell him off and storm away. Yet all Sarah could think was, did he mean her? And if so, what should she do with such a revelation? “Oh,” was all she replied.

His lordship grinned. “Yes. I told him he was being absurd, of course, but then I have been known to twist my words.”

Sarah looked about and wondered if everyone else were as hot as she. Dancing in his lordship’s arms, hearing his deep, rumbling voice was a challenge at the best of times, but when he aimed to make the woman in his arms melt like ice-cream on a hot summer’s day, it was nearly impossible to stay composed. “You lie then,” Sarah said, glad her voice came out strong and almost accusing.

Lord Earnston laughed. “Never lie, just … evade.” He paused. “Are you not curious as to whom Lord Mettleston meant?”

“It would be silly of me to ask as I’m sure, because you are a gentleman, you wouldn’t wish to cause me unease. You do realize women tend to look less than comely when flushed red to their roots. And you know how dedicated I am to finding a husband this season.” Sarah smiled at her own sarcasm. But at least his lordship was being hospitable, could well be on the way to counting her a friend, if such a thing were allowed in 1818.

Eric laughed. “Very well, I’ll abide by your wish not to know, but you’re wrong about a woman’s flush. I believe there is nothing more beautiful than a delicate rosy hue on a woman’s cheeks especially after a pleasurable exertion.”

Oh man he was hot!

Sarah said a silent prayer of thanks when the waltz ended. Lord Earnston swept her to a stop. “My lord, there is something — ”

“My dear, you must introduce me at once to the lady who has kept you this past half-hour. I command it.”

Sarah turned and found herself face to face with a formidable looking older woman. Sarah dipped into a curtsy and then wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Why was it that whenever she was nervous, she forgot the damn etiquette rules? The curtsy was supposed to come after the introduction.

“Forgive me. Miss Baxter, this is my mother, the Countess of Earnston.”

Sarah dipped into her second curtsy. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Lady Earnston.”

“Well,” her ladyship said, not responding any further. Instead she pulled Lady Patricia forward and almost threw her into his lordship’s arms. “Dance with Lady Patricia, Eric. She is free this next set.”

Lord Earnston clasped Sarah’s hand and bowed. “Until our ride tomorrow, Miss Baxter. Good night.”

“Good night, my lord.” Sarah curtsied.

When he didn’t immediately move away, her ladyship gestured them to leave, and took Sarah’s arm, adeptly steering her from the spot. Apprehension crept across Sarah’s skin.

“Miss Baxter, I’m sure you’re a very good sort of woman, but if you’re looking to marry my son, you’re setting yourself up for misfortune.”

Sarah noted her ladyship’s cold eyes and immovable stance beneath the sweet voice and smiling mouth. “I am not looking to marry his lordship; I consider him merely an acquaintance, a friend, if you will, in society.”

“A friendship between members of the opposite sex is an absurd notion. Such foolishness leads to folly, and you, Miss Baxter, will not lead my son to any such situation.”

Sarah stopped and pulled her arm from her ladyship’s tight grip. “I have no desire to lead him anywhere.” Sarah looked onto the ballroom floor and watched Lord Earnston enjoy his dance with Lady Patricia. They made a beautiful couple: elegant, tall, social equals. A pang of envy stabbed at Sarah, and she pushed it aside, breathing a sigh of relief when Lady Anita joined them.

“Aunt, lovely to see you tonight.” Anita kissed her ladyship’s cheek. Lady Earnston’s features softened at Anita’s gesture, and Sarah caught a glimpse of a woman whose youthful beauty was still visible under the lines of time and spite.

“Anita dear, I have been talking to your delightful friend, Miss Baxter. Patricia, as you can see, is dancing with Eric. Do you not think they make a fine couple?”

Anita didn’t even bother to find them on the dance floor. “They make a fine looking couple. As to whether they would match as a married couple, we should leave that decision to the respective parties. Don’t you agree, Aunt?”

Sarah bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from cheering Anita’s kindly veiled warning.

“Ah, are my hopes of a match showing?” Her ladyship tittered.

Sarah inwardly laughed harder at the false modesty this society peahen was crowing about.

“Just a little, Aunt,” Anita said, smiling.

It was time for Sarah to untangle herself from this charged topic. “Well, I think they make a lovely couple. If you would excuse me.” She curtsied to the older woman, and headed off in the direction she had spotted Richard earlier. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she spotted him leaning on the card room door.

“We should leave.” Sarah turned and watched the dancers. Lady Patricia caught her eye, and Sarah couldn’t miss the smug smile her rival threw over his lordship’s shoulder. She turned back to Richard.

“What’s wrong?” Richard asked.

“They think I’m after him.”

“Who?”

Sarah inwardly cursed. “Lord Earnston. His mother and Lady Patricia both think I want to marry him. Stuff this need to be careful for a week or two. Make sure when I’m riding with the earl tomorrow morning that you get into his home and have a look about. The sooner we go home, the better.”

Richard nodded. “And if I’m caught?”

“You won’t be.” The music ended and Sarah watched as the dancers dispersed about the room. Lord Earnston bade a quick goodbye to Lady Patricia and departed her company.

An inner voice cheered his action, but Sarah quickly silenced it. She was not permitted to dabble with him. He was a means to an end, and that was all.

She would have to be more cunning if she wanted him to divulge the whereabouts of the mapping device. Cunning and creative — two words not normally associated with Sarah Baxter.

• • •

Eric leaned against a window frame and watched his mother storm across the room toward him. He stifled a look of annoyance. “Mother, what brings you to my side?”

“Do not play coy with me, Eric. You know very well why I wished to speak to you.”

“Enlighten me,” he said in a boorish tone meant to aggravate his maddening parent.

“What are you playing at with that chit, Miss Baxter?”

Eric glared at his parent. “You are overstepping your bounds, my lady.”

“You are my son, and I may say and ask whatever I wish. Now, explain yourself.”

“There is nothing to explain that warrants your attention.” Eric took a sip of his whisky. “And you are forgetting the fact I am not betrothed to another.”

“But you will be.” His mother huffed beside him. “How can you do this to Patricia? Why, just the other day her mama spoke of the expected agreement between you two.”

Eric couldn’t have put it better. Agreement would be the sum total of the feelings he and Patricia would share if they ever married. She was a lovely woman to look at, young and beautiful and in desperate need of a coronet. Eric wasn’t fool enough not to know what she sought in a marriage. It was a pity William had never seen through her false motives.

“No one will tell me whom I marry, Mother, including you.” Eric met his mother’s heated gaze with one of his own. How she could even imagine him marrying the woman his brother loved was beyond him. He stemmed the urge to shudder.

“Furthermore, what is this nonsense about riding in the park tomorrow? People will talk, Eric.”

“Let them.” He shrugged. “A ride in the park does not ruin a reputation, Mother.” And there was no way he would miss riding with Miss Baxter.

“I will not have it, Eric. I warn you now, keep up this foolishness, and I’ll never forgive you.”

Eric bowed. “It seems we are in agreement.” With a stab of regret, he watched his mother storm away, the feathers atop her head flying around like a live bird. His mother was impossible, pigheaded, and downright vexing. Eric took a calming breath, and began searching the crowd for something to cheer him up, namely Miss Baxter. He spied her standing next to Lord Stanley.

Eric studied her and wondered why Miss Baxter seemed different from the other women of his acquaintance. Why she fascinated him so. She dressed the same as other women. Was from a family of wealth and yet somewhere along her path to adulthood she’d blossomed into a woman of independent thought and ideals.

Miss Baxter was a woman who didn’t follow society’s rules, having said herself she wasn’t looking for a husband. Which was agreeable with Eric as he wasn’t looking for a wife. Yet, underneath the nerves he was sure he brought forth in her was a lady with a lot more plans and opinions if only she’d open up to him. Miss Baxter was a delightful enigma and she had him enthralled.

He glanced at her brother, standing beside her. Again, the siblings’ physical differences struck him. He frowned, but the puzzle wasn’t nearly as intriguing as the anticipation of his riding appointment in the morning. It could not come soon enough.

“Would you mind, Anita, if I walked outside for a moment? I’m feeling a little warm.”

“Would you like me to join you?”

“No,” Sarah said. “I need but a moment.” Sarah exited the room and welcomed the balmy night breeze. She walked to the edge of the terrace and noted lit lanterns throughout the garden.

The houses in present day London no longer had such generous, beautiful landscapes. Land was a rare commodity and soon sold off to make way for more flats in the city. Sarah took a deep breath and the scent of sandalwood wafted across her senses.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Miss Baxter.”

She’d know that voice anywhere. Lord Earnston stood behind her — a dark, overbearing shadow that skittered delicious shivers down her spine.

“Thank you.” He stepped beside her and the action afforded her a glimpse of his visage.

“How did you fare after our ride this morning? Not too sore I hope,” he asked.

Sarah smiled. “No. I am very well, thank you, my lord.” She took a calming breath. After spending a fantastic morning with this man, it was odd for her to be so nervous. Lord Earnston had opened up a little more about himself — his preference for country living over the capital, what plays at the theatre he enjoyed, and his political views. With every moment she spent in his company, Sarah liked him a little more.

She studied him as he stood next to her, his formal attire giving a different appeal tonight to the one he wore this morning. Not that he wasn’t as devastating in buckskin breeches as he was in knee-high satin breeches. Both pants showed off his delectable toosh very well.

Sarah leaned against the balustrade. What was it that made his lordship different to the many boyfriends she’d had in the past? Underneath the nineteenth century attire he was just a guy like any other. Yes, he was wealthy and titled, but still a man. And yet, when she had his attention, she commanded it wholly and he made her feel like she was the only woman in the world.