Lady Sarah's Redemption (8 page)

“Reckon this was the only one. Only lover, I mean. He’s a good shot,
the master.”

“What happened?”

“He winged Sir Richard. After that, the fellow was exiled for
debts.”

Sarah hurried down the stairs to the large, lovely drawing room
where Caro waited patiently. The longer she spent at Larchfield, the more
intrigued she became. Poor Caro. Even running a comb through her hair must fill
the girl with doubt as to whether she was doing it to court admiration, or
simply to get the knots out.

Well, this was a great lesson in demonstrating the vast middle
ground between being a self conscious dormouse and a raging coquette —
and it was fun!

Confidently she threw open the door, boldly meeting Caro’s eyes
above her ivory fan. Oh, she knew how to use her eyes to great effect, and she
did so now, playing to her young charge as if Caro were the most handsome,
gallant gentleman in a room crowded with them.

“Since you have asked me so charmingly to play for you, sir, how can
I refuse?” she asked, inclining her head coquettishly and sweeping Caro a
smouldering look from beneath downcast lashes. “
Any
requests from such a handsome gentleman, will be happily
acceded to.”

Caro’s eyes widened at the double entendre though she stammered,
obligingly, “Perhaps, Miss, you would regale the company with
Over Yonder Mountain
?”

Sarah affected a show of false modesty. “Oh, but you will think my
singing very poor after what you have already heard this evening.” With a
dazzling smile she took a deep breath so that the swell of her breasts could
not fail to be admired above the line of her low cut evening dress. “However,
if you insist.” Sarah sank gracefully onto the piano stool and began to sing in
tune to the emotional music.

Everything this evening had been play acting. But this, her singing,
was real, and her voice was exquisite. She knew men found her attractive, but
the many sincere compliments she’d received on her voice were even more
gratifying. She adored music. Until now, she hadn’t realised how much she’d
missed it in this sad, songless house.

Soon Caro, who Sarah knew worked hard to maintain a cynical
exterior, was dashing tears away.

The strains of the last chord drifted into nothing but Caro did not
applaud; just stared at her governess with wonder while Sarah was filled with a
sudden sadness for the home she had left behind, and the lovable, tyrannical
father who would probably be out of his mind with grief.

Footsteps sounded from beyond the open French doors that led onto
the terrace behind her. Alarmed, Sarah half turned, then rose and stepped out
from behind the piano stool.

The footsteps stopped. There was silence. Mr Hawthorne stood on the
threshold to the garden, his face blanched by moonlight. He looked as if he’d
seen a ghost.

Sarah’s hand went to her breast, as if to still her thundering
heart. Her mouth went dry.

Passionless? Had she once thought this man passionless?

The seconds became an agony of eternity as she waited for him to
come to her. She watched the play of emotions roil in the tortured depths of
his dark grey eyes. She thought he looked like a man who’d found Nirvana and
would risk his life to cross the crocodile-infested raging torrent to lay claim
to it.

In three strides he’d closed the distance between them. Then she was
in his embrace. Thrown backwards over his arm, helpless and not wanting to be
anything else, his mouth came down, swiftly and all-consumingly, upon hers.

She did not struggle. Objection was the last thing on her mind.

Breathing in his familiar smell of sandalwood and leather, she
twined her hands behind his neck. She could feel the pounding of his heart
beneath his waistcoat of watered silk, his hard chest pressed against her
breasts.

It was not a gentle kiss; rather the kiss of a man who fears his
chance may not come again and wants to plunder what he can before all is taken
away.

Sarah did not need gentleness. With her mind in thrall to her body
she surrendered herself wholeheartedly. The redoubling of his passion signalled
he’d registered her enthusiasm.

Clearly, he hadn’t registered her true identity.

Sarah wilted with want, bent to his will, consumed by a primal
determination to take everything this fascinating man could give her before he
realized his mistake.

She’d had many admirers but as a young, unmarried woman she’d been
kissed by only one man: her fiancé. This was infinitely more exciting.

She arched her back to achieve a more snug fit, and he responded,
skimming his hand the length of her body from cheek to thigh while his other
arm bore the full weight of her.

Waves of desire hit her with increasing force, coursed hotly through
her veins, and pooled in her lower belly.

She gasped with disappointment when his mouth left hers.
Compensation was swift as he thrilled her body with a feathered line of kisses
down her throat. He trailed them over her collar bones, tracing the contours of
her cleavage before returning once more to plunder her mouth.

She never wanted him to stop. Arching deeper against him, she raked
her hands through his hair.

Then Caro screamed.

SARAH
STUMBLED AS she was released, abruptly. Dear Lord, how could they have forgotten
the girl? Endeavouring to master her breathing, she stared across the chasm
that separated her from Mr Hawthorne. His expression was inscrutable. He
ignored his daughter who whimpered from the settee and Sarah wilted inside as
she saw the passion drain from his face.

At Caro’s second scream, shock reflected like a flame, quickly
extinguished, in his dark eyes. Instead of going to her, he turned on his heel,
the doors clicking shut behind him as he disappeared into the moonlit darkness.

 
“What has father done?”
cried Caro, throwing herself at Sarah.

Sarah stumbled backwards and sank upon the piano stool while Caro
slid from her shoulder to weep at her feet.

“So wicked! Terrible! Mother’s spirit must’ve been in that dress and
bewitched him. Poor Miss Morecroft!” Her muffled voice came in choking gasps.

Still dazed, Sarah realised the need to make Roland appear blameless
in his daughter’s eyes.

“Perfectly understandable,” she said with a briskness she was far
from feeling. “I had no right to deceive him like that.”

She patted Caro’s head, then, seeing the concern still in the girl’s
raised eyes, reassured her, “Have no fears on my account. I didn’t find it
horrible.”

“Roland!” Cecily’s voice drifted, disembodied, from the depths of
the house.

Roland gripped the door handle of the library to steady himself,
closed his eyes to ward off the memory of what had just happened, and waited
for Cecily.

“Roland, there you are. Have you seen Caro? Ellen says she’s not in
bed yet. I was just about to retire when I thought I heard her scream!”

 
Cecily stood at the top
of the stairs. The pins and hair pads had been removed and her hair hung lankly
and unflatteringly down the sides of her anxious, drawn face.

“I saw her just now.”

Turning his back on her, Roland slipped into the library and closed
the door firmly behind him. His first priority was to pour himself a fortifying
brandy. It was easier said than done. He was shaking so badly he had to steady
himself against the mantelpiece as he removed the glass stopper.

Closing his eyes, he took a long swallow of the amber liquid, hoping
to burn away all traces of Miss Morecroft’s kisses. Kisses, which lingered like
rose petals upon his lips.

* * *

Sarah was still trembling as she sat on the edge of her bed and
peeled off her stockings. Ellen had unbuttoned the tiny row of pearl buttons at
the back of her dress, but now she was alone.

Haunted by the look in her employer’s eye as he’d stood in a shaft
of moonlight and gazed at her, believing her to be his dead wife come to life.

She touched her lips. They still burned. The hunger in his eyes was
branded on her mind. No one had ever looked at her with such longing and
ardour.

She didn’t know what to make of him. Nor did she know what to make
of her own tumultuous heart. Would she feel the same if just anyone kissed her?

She feared not.

Drawing in a ragged breath, she contemplated the difficulties. Mr
Hawthorne had kissed her while conjuring up his dead wife. A great deal of
delicacy would be required on her part to counter his mortification upon seeing
her again.

And if that that was how Venetia had been revered by her husband,
Sarah had her work cut out to compete. For compete she must. The feelings he’d
whipped up could not be discarded lightly.

She blew out her candle and climbed into bed.

It would be a long night.

 
“Dancing!” Caro blanched. “I already know
how to dance.”

Sarah cocked her eyebrow. “But not to waltz. I don’t believe I’ve
ever heard of a debutante who doesn’t waltz in this day and age. Excuses like that
are the preserve of dried-out spinsters, like me.” Sarah held out her hand to
Caro. “Come, Lady Charlotte has brought her three nieces to visit. They’re in
the drawing room and anxious to meet you.”

Reluctantly, Caro followed Sarah downstairs.

Sarah entered the room with a smile. “Lady Charlotte, this is just
what Caro needs: company, and a spur to learning her dance steps. We are short
of gentlemen, however my Mama used to employ a broomstick on occasion when
teaching us, and I’m sure there is very little difference.”

Lady Charlotte waved an imperious hand from her seat by the fire.
“This is young Georgiana and her older sister Philly who will be coming out
with Caro next year. I have the dubious pleasure of playing duenna to the young
ladies while their mother is indisposed. It hasn’t taken me long to discover
that young ladies need a great deal of amusement.” She looked as if she were
already fatigued by her duties.

“My, and don’t I know it,” exclaimed Cecily, catching her last words
as she entered the room. “Certainly, useful recreation is to be recommended,
and dancing, while some might reckon it distinctly un-useful, is an
indispensible accomplishment.” She directed a pointed look at Caro as she
seated herself upon the piano stool. “I shall accompany but first we must find
Cosmo. Yes! And Mr Hawthorne too for it is intolerable to have no gentlemen
with whom to practice when there are two perfectly able-bodied ones in this
very house. Mabel,” she said to the parlour maid who had just answered her summons,
“fetch Master Cosmo and Mr Hawthorne. Tell them to present themselves in the
drawing room at their earliest convenience. Also, find Dorrington to arrange
for their dancing shoes to be brought down.”

Mention of Mr Hawthorne made Sarah’s heartbeat do a little dance
while heat rose in her cheeks. She pushed Caro into the centre of the room.

“What a treat to have an impromptu dancing lesson, Miss Hawthorne,”
said Philly, dimpling as she smoothed her sprigged muslin skirts over her ample
hips. Her round, ruddy face was flushed with pleasure. “Aunt Charlotte is
sponsoring me for the season, you know. She says you’re not fond of dancing,
but surely it is an accomplishment a girl cannot do without.”

“That and never revealing when she feels at a disadvantage,” came
Lady Charlotte’s stentorian tones.

Well, no one was going to know the extent to which the governess
felt at a disadvantage, thought Sarah, as the door opened and Mr Hawthorne
strode into the room.

It was immediately clear that Mabel had not elaborated on the nature
of the summons for it was Mr Hawthorne who looked at a complete disadvantage,
greeted as he was by a room full of expectant ladies and his sister-in-law
jumping up from the piano stool saying, “How very good of you to come so
quickly, Mr Hawthorne. The young ladies are eager to be put through their
paces. We are having a dancing lesson, don’t you know.”

Sarah felt a wave of sympathy as his dancing shoes were thrust in
front of him.

“I fear, Cecily,” he said, looking pained and studiously ignoring
Sarah, “that I am not going to satisfy your demands for excellence. Surely the
young ladies have been doing country dances since they could walk?”

“Oh, not country dances, Roland. No, we mean to perfect the waltz.”

His eyes widened, but Sarah was able to say, soothingly, “Here comes
Cosmo. Perhaps he would prefer to take a turn with one of the young ladies.”

“A waltz.” Cosmo beamed at the unexpected but obviously welcome
sight of such a large female contingent. “Why, I should love to render my
assistance. Who shall go first? I should hate to set the cat amongst the
pigeons by favouring one pretty girl above the other.”

Clearly gratified by their blushes and giggles, Cosmo glanced up as
he changed his shoes. “Miss Morecroft, I daresay waltzing does not fall within
the curriculum of most governesses, but since you are a breed apart, is it too
much to wonder if you felt up to partnering me?”