Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires (23 page)

Moving closer still, he deepened the kiss, his hands moving to cup her face while he pushed up against her, his firm chest pressing into her soft curves, stirring embers to spark a flame within her treacherous body. She felt his tongue glide across her lips and she practically melted, her breasts swelling against her confining bodice until all thought of telling him this could not happen fled to the far corners of her mind.

Gasping for breath, she invited him in, stunned that the feel of his tongue stroking hers would inspire a need to be touched elsewhere—­a scandalous prospect that spoke to her conscience in a quiet whisper.
Do not encourage him to want that which he cannot have. It isn't fair.

Placing her hands flat against his chest, she pushed at him gently. It was enough.

“You taste even better than I had imagined,” he said, remaining close—­so close she could smell the brandy on his breath, along with a hint of tobacco from earlier.

Sarah clenched her hands, determined to stay strong. “As I told your sister, Lady Newbury, earlier this evening, it is my duty to marry Mr. Denison. I cannot consider anyone else.”

For a moment he looked as though he failed to comprehend what she was saying. Then he leaned back, adding distance and leaving her bereft. “Allow me to have a word with your father.”

Sarah blinked. She could not believe what he was saying. Was Lord Spencer seriously so interested in her that he would abandon the bachelorhood he coveted in favor of making her an offer? It seemed unfathomable, yet it was essential for him to make a fine match once he married. From his perspective, she seemed like a perfect candidate. “It will not matter,” she said.

“Why not? If your father's concern is with the deal he was planning to make with Mr. Denison, I'm sure a solution can be found. I am a wealthy man, Lady Sarah—­I'll buy Mr. Denison's horses if need be. All of them.”

“You can't be serious?”

“Perfectly so.” He ran his hand along the length of her arm. “Surely your father will reconsider your future when he discovers that a viscount would like to compete for your hand.”

“A very handsome viscount, I might add,” Sarah couldn't help but say.

He looked at her with great intensity, his chest rising and falling, as if he was battling conflicting emotions. Eventually he shook his head. “Do you have any idea how many women I've spoken to over the years? None have engaged my mind as well as you have. They haven't challenged me to think of sharp rejoinders, whereas you . . . I can hardly ever guess what you will say next.”

“I often say what I oughtn't.”

“And I adore that! It's an exceptional quality—­one that has brought me great amusement on multiple occasions.” He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, placing a tender kiss there. “I cannot promise you love, but I can assure you that I will respect you and that I will cherish your company forever if you agree to become my wife.”

She took a sharp breath. Oh, how she longed to pretend she had the option to choose. “I'll never forget your kindness,” she said, tugging on her hand until he released her, “but you're asking the impossible.” Turning away, she made for the door.

“If that's a challenge, Lady Sarah,” he called after her, “you ought to know that I love a good challenge. Rest assured, I will rise to it, and I will win.”

Stepping out into the hallway, she seriously considered telling him the truth, knowing that however much he'd despise her for what she'd done, it would have the benefit of setting him free.

 

Chapter 12

W
hen Christopher awoke on Saturday morning, his first thought was of Lady Sarah and the conversation he'd had with her two days earlier. She'd avoided him since then, always insisting upon the company of others whenever he was near so that they wouldn't be left alone with each other. She'd also refrained from joining him down by the lake in the morning, even though he'd sent her a note and a flower, inviting her to do so.

What he'd said to her was true. He did enjoy her company and the conversations they'd shared, and he found that he missed her—­especially after speaking with her father. That conversation had gone much better than he would have expected after everything Lady Sarah had told him.

Stretching out until his legs tangled with the sheets, Christopher smiled up at the ceiling. There was to be a ball this evening, and he had every intention of claiming a dance with Lady Sarah. She would not be able to deny him then—­not in front of so many ­people.

Rising amidst the shadows of the predawn morning, Christopher spent half an hour doing his routine exercises before washing up and quickly dressing without disturbing his valet, who slept in an adjoining chamber. Snatching up a small round frame he'd bought in town the previous day and which now contained his clover, he placed the item carefully in his jacket pocket, ensuring that it would be kept within reach. Perhaps if he carried it with him, he wouldn't be so concerned about attracting bad luck, since the clover would undoubtedly balance things out. Was that why Lady Sarah had determined to find one for him? he wondered. How remarkable that she had made the effort. He'd tried to find one himself on many occasions, but he'd never been met with any success.

Once out in the hallway, he paused in front of the next door down from his own, his hand rising with hesitation as he wondered whether or not to knock. On a deep intake of air, he decided to make a go of it, then waited for the voice that would grant him entry. “Who is it?” his brother asked from somewhere within.

“It's Kip,” Christopher replied, keeping his tone as low as possible so as not to disturb any of the other guests.

There was a hollow pause, and then the grating sound of a key being turned in the lock. The door remained closed as usual though, and Christopher waited a respectable moment before opening it, allowing his brother enough time to retreat, if that was what he desired to do. “I wasn't sure if you would still be awake,” he finally said upon entering, knowing that Richard habitually slept during the day and remained up all night, surrounding himself with darkness. Even the bedchamber attested to it. Only one oil lamp was lit, though it was turned all the way down, emitting a low glow for the sole purpose of orientation.

“The sun isn't up yet,” Richard said from his position by the window, where he glanced out through a narrow parting between the curtains.

“No,” Christopher told his brother's back. He didn't move farther into the room, knowing that Richard would not approve. “I was hoping I might convince you to take a walk with me in the garden. The air is at its best this time of day, and you can be back before the sun rises. Nobody will see you.”

“You cannot be certain of that,” Richard remarked in a low timbre that stabbed at Christopher's heart. His voice held a mixture of pain and defeat. “Even you were surprised the other day, I saw, by a certain young lady out for a morning stroll.”

There was a hidden question there that Christopher chose to answer. “Lady Sarah,” he said. “I enjoy her company immensely, which is somewhat peculiar, considering my reluctance to let another woman into my life, but she has proven herself to be kind and selfless. Since I must marry eventually, I cannot help but consider her. I believe she would make a fine viscountess.”

“You're sure of this?”

“Of course I am, or I would not suggest it.”

There was a low grunt of reproach before Richard said, “Forgive me, Kip, but you of all ­people have every reason to second-­guess a person's true character.”

Christopher stiffened. His brother was right, but Christopher knew Lady Sarah to be the person she claimed to be. “Her parents arranged an unfavorable match for her—­one she was quite determined to agree to due to her father's insistence. Apparently Lord Andover has a weakness for horses and was keen on making an alliance with a man in possession of some fine mares—­a venture that would also offer Lord Andover a large income, which was probably why Lady Sarah doubted her father's willingness to consider other options.

“But after speaking with Lord Andover yesterday, I believe I managed to convince him that allowing his daughter to marry me would result in a certain prestige that Mr. Denison cannot provide. When I added that I'd be willing to pay for the acquisition of any five horses Lord Andover might desire, his interest increased dramatically. In short, he has given me permission to court Lady Sarah.”

“All this trouble for some horses,” Richard murmured.

“It would seem so.”

“I do not mean to add doubt, but it seems dubious to me. Why wouldn't Lord Andover have tried to obtain such a favorable match for his daughter to begin with? Surely he must have been able to find a gentleman of good standing who might have been willing to make a similar deal to what you have suggested.”

“From what I understand, Mr. Denison's horses are quite particular.”

“And from what
I
understand, Mr. Denison is a nobody, perhaps a wealthy nobody, but a nobody nonetheless, while
she
is an earl's daughter.”

“Are you suggesting there's something I don't know about?”

“I think you ought to ask Lady Sarah that. Wouldn't you agree?”

A wince escaped Christopher's throat at the very idea of it. He'd come to the conclusion that Lady Sarah was everything he wanted in a wife—­smart, funny, generous, kind . . . and with looks that would dazzle him forever. He didn't want to consider that she might be flawed—­that there was a chance of her being anything other than the woman whom he'd come to admire. But if there was something that she and her parents were keeping from him . . . something that might even affect his own family by association . . . he had a duty to uncover it, however much he might regret doing so. “Yes,” he said simply. “I do.”

Keeping the left side of his face hidden from view, Richard turned his head, his right eye meeting Christopher's across the distance. “I don't envy the position you're in as heir—­this rush everyone's in to get you married so you can start producing an heir of your own.” He laughed grimly. “Fortunately, I doubt I'll ever have to fight off any eager mamas or their troublesome daughters. What a relief!”

“Richard, I—­”

“Don't say it, Brother. We both know it had to be me.”

As if that made it any bloody easier. All Christopher could think of was that if he'd at least been there on that battlefield, perhaps his brother wouldn't have been captured. Perhaps Christopher could have protected him. Instead, the unthinkable had happened, and Richard had been broken as a result of it. Laura was right. It was surprising that he had agreed to come to Thorncliff with them. “I will visit you again tomorrow,” Christopher told Richard quietly.

Richard nodded before glancing away, and Christopher exited the room, his heart aching for the young man whose future had been compromised because he'd served his country. It wasn't fair, regardless of what one might expect from war. No. It was a downright shame.

Standing on the lakeshore a short while later, Christopher couldn't help but hope that Lady Sarah would join him, for he knew that if anyone could lift his spirits out of the gutter where they presently resided, it was she. Ah, but he knew she would not come. She'd taken to avoiding him after he'd kissed her and told her of his intentions. What puzzled him was that Lord Andover must have spoken to her by now about the conversation he'd had with Christopher, but rather than seek him out now that her obligation to marry Mr. Denison no longer existed, she maintained her distance.

For the sake of his own peace of mind, he would have to inquire about the reason. Lord, how he dreaded that conversation and all that it might reveal. He didn't want to discover any unpleasant secrets about Lady Sarah. He wanted her to be as perfect as he thought her to be. Yet there was that nagging little voice of uncertainty that warned him to take heed—­especially since the picnic, when she'd been shockingly outspoken about the fanciful notion of following one's heart regardless of the consequences.

With that in mind, Christopher determined to confront her at the first available opportunity so he could question her more closely. His aim was to get all the facts out in the open before he made the same mistake he'd made five years earlier. That meant she would have to tell him about the man who'd once broken her heart.

But when Christopher returned back inside, he was met by Lady Duncaster, who invited him to join her for breakfast, along with his parents. Gradually, Christopher's sisters began trickling into the room along with a few other guests until, by the time he took his leave, the dining room was at least half full. He had yet to see Lady Sarah and the other members of her family arrive.

Too distracted to focus on his sketches of Thorncliff, Christopher decided to make good use of his day by visiting the stables. As he approached, he saw that Chadwick was standing a few paces apart from the door leading into the stables, riding crop in hand. Striding forward, he greeted Christopher with a bright smile. “Good morning,” Chadwick said. “I'm glad to see you looking well after what happened the day before yesterday. Terrible business that. Don't know what that man was thinking, competing at something that would probably have cost him his life had you not been there to save him.”

“His pride got the better of him, I suppose,” Christopher said as he fell into step alongside Chadwick. “It was beyond foolish, but at least we both survived the ordeal. What of you, my friend? How are you faring today?”

Chadwick grinned. “When you failed to join me for after-­dinner drinks last night, I ended up retiring surprisingly early and have awoken at a most unusual hour.”

“You mean before nine o' clock?”

“Nine? That was years ago. I now have a tendency to stay abed until eleven. But, to my astonishment, I find I quite like waking up to the sound of birds singing. Indeed, I'm beginning to understand your fondness for it.”

“I've always considered it the best part of the day.”

“And you may be right about that.”

Finding a stable hand, Christopher asked the man to saddle a horse for him. “There's a fine Thoroughbred by the name of Arion, who recently won the Ascot gold cup.”

“I know the horse well,” Christopher said. He'd bet good money on that horse and won. “I'd no idea he ended up here at Thorncliff.”

“Her ladyship acquired him for a handsome sum so her guests would have a proper horse to ride,” the stable hand said. “So there's him, and the one being prepared for Lord Chadwick: Aragorn, who won the Newmarket race last year.”

“Good Lord, she must have spent a fortune on both of them,” Christopher muttered.

“I cannot say, my lord, but I'd be happy to saddle Arion for you.”

“I'd appreciate that,” Christopher said. The man went to see to the task, and Christopher turned to Chadwick. “Her ladyship certainly knows how to cater to her guests. I can't say I'm not impressed.”

“Admittedly, I wasn't sure what to expect when I decided to come here. I have to say that it's certainly all it's cracked up to be. The gardens alone are incredible, and then of course there's the smoking room, the billiard room and the wine cellar. Lord, have you seen the wine cellar, Spencer? I daresay I could stay down there for days just enjoying the sight of it!” Aragorn was brought out, and Chadwick took the reins. “I gather that there's to be a ball this evening. Hope you asked your valet to polish your shoes.”

Christopher grinned, a bit giddy from his friend's enthusiasm, which was always so contagious. “My valet doesn't need telling. When I return to my bedchamber later, my evening clothes will be laid out for me.” He glanced at Chadwick. “I'm glad I ran into you—­your company is much appreciated,” he said as Arion was brought out as well. Placing his foot in the stirrup, he swung himself up into the saddle and followed Chadwick out onto a dirt road that would lead them past the forest to the fields beyond.

“I thought I should tell you that you're looking more like your old self,” Chadwick said after a short while.

Glancing across at his friend, Christopher found him looking back at him with a bit of a gleam to his eyes. He'd met him at the tender age of thirteen, during his first day at Eton, and had quickly bonded with him over a prank involving a ferret. Since then, their goal had always been to outdo each other, though they had decreed that they would do so in a gentlemanly fashion and that their behavior would never be an insult to their names in any way.

This had become especially important as they'd grown older and developed an interest in women. So many of their peers had seemed to think little about a young woman's honor, unless she happened to be nobility. Spencer and Chadwick, however, had always considered it their duty to treat all women, including their mistresses, with the greatest respect.

“You were always so positive and carefree until that horrid woman came along and ruined your happiness,” Chadwick was saying. “Thank God you're rid of her!”

“Thank God indeed,” Christopher muttered.

“So will you tell me what's brought about this sudden change in your demeanor? When I last saw you at the Flintworth Ball, you were scowling at everybody.”

Knowing how shocking his response would be, Christopher schooled his features and said, “If you must know, I happen to have made the acquaintance of a certain young lady.”