Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires (24 page)

“Surely you jest!”

“I would never,” Christopher told him seriously.

There was a moment of silence. “I'm very happy for you,” Chadwick said at last. “After five years, I was beginning to think you'd given up on marriage completely. You must introduce me to this lady who's encouraged you to risk your heart again.”

“What makes you think I'd be risking my heart?” The idea of doing so came with a wave of nausea. “This is a practical decision, since Richard's unlikely to have any children. Whether I wish it or not, I do have a duty toward my family, and I intend to see to it. As to the lady in question, you met her yesterday at the lake.”

“Lady Sarah?” Chadwick frowned unexpectedly. “Wasn't her arm linked with another gentleman's?”

“The man, whose name is Mr. Denison, is not a gentleman. He is simply a minor inconvenience now that her father has allowed me to express my interest in her.”

“She's been absent from Society for two years, Spencer. Doesn't that strike you as odd?”

“What strikes me as odd,” Christopher said, suddenly irritated by his friend's comments, “is that you would remember her after not having seen her for so long.”

Chadwick shrugged. “I won't deny that I had an interest in her at the time.” He shot Christopher a look, one eyebrow rising. “Do you know, for a man who claims his heart is not invested, you look rather put out by that idea. Rest assured, I never treated her with anything but respect.”

“How good of you to point that out,” Christopher muttered. Perhaps this ride had been a mistake.

“In fact, I doubt she'd remember me, considering how popular she was.” His frown deepened. “Nobody had a chance with her though. Not after she met Harlowe.”

Christopher bristled. When a careless letter between the Marquess of Harlowe and Jean-­Baptiste Drouet, Comte d'Erlon, had turned up, revealing a collaboration between the Marquess and Napoleon's army during the war, the Marquess had been brought before the House of Lords and found guilty of treason. After being stripped of his title and his lands, the marquess had enjoyed a brief prison sentence before his public hanging at Newgate. “What do you mean?”

“He charmed her, I suppose, but then his criminal actions were brought to light and he was dragged away from the Gillsborough house party in irons. I wasn't there myself, but I understand that it put a very abrupt end to an otherwise pleasant event.”

It also explained why Lord and Lady Andover had kept Lady Sarah away from the marriage mart and were now desperately trying to marry her off to someone like Mr. Denison, who probably wouldn't care about Lady Sarah's connection to Harlowe.

“I'm sure it did.” Christopher paused briefly. “Tell me, Chadwick, did Harlowe ever make an offer for her? Was there a brief engagement I ought to know about?”

“No. I can't say he wasn't planning to propose, since he probably doubted anyone would discover the crimes he'd committed years earlier. It truly was a blessing for the Andovers that Lady Sarah avoided marrying him.”

“Yes. It most certainly was. Shall we race?” Christopher asked Chadwick as they trotted out onto an open field. Even though he wished that Lady Sarah had confided in him, he understood her reasons for not doing so, considering his own reluctance to tell her about Miss Hepplestone. There was some relief to be found in knowing the truth—­to understand the sort of obstacle that prevented her from considering him as a husband.

Leaning forward in his saddle, Christopher urged his horse into a fast gallop alongside Chadwick. He would speak to his father, of course, but in general he could see no reason why Lady Sarah shouldn't become his wife as long as he was willing to accept that she had once been charmed by Harlowe. Which he was, since nothing significant had come of it.

I
t was approaching eleven o'clock by the time they returned from their ride, dismounted and strode along a gravel path that took them through the garden toward the flagstone terrace in front of the house. A few ­people were congregated there, enjoying cups of tea or glasses of lemonade, depending upon their preferences. As Christopher and Chadwick walked up the steps, Christopher recognized Emily's voice and instinctively turned toward it, only to find her reclining on a wicker love seat with Lady Sarah at her side. Fiona and Laura were similarly seated across from them. “Come,” Christopher said to Chadwick, “let's go and greet my sisters.”

“And the lovely Lady Sarah is there as well, I see,” Chadwick remarked, his voice low enough to be heard only by Christopher.

Once they stood before them, Christopher offered a bow of greeting, as did Chadwick, who made a show of praising all the ladies to the heavens and bowing over each of their hands. This was his usual style of behavior with the fairer sex, yet it rankled Christopher to see it applied to Lady Sarah. Biting back a childish remark, he seated himself on one empty chair while Chadwick claimed the other. Christopher chided himself for his possessive reaction, as he had no right. Not yet, at least.

“We were having the most fascinating conversation just now,” Fiona said, excitement clear in every manner of her being. “Did Lady Sarah tell you that Lady Duncaster spoke to her of the treasure?”

This again.

Christopher stopped a groan as he looked across at Lady Sarah. “No. She did not.”

Her smile was adorably bashful. “I didn't have the opportunity to do so. When last we met, I was so occupied by the picnic and the good company I was in that it completely slipped my mind.” A blush rose to her cheeks, and she looked away from Christopher, her focus on his sisters instead. She had wisely decided not to mention their private encounter with each other in the green salon the other evening. There was no doubt in Christopher's mind that she was thinking about it though.
He
certainly was.

“Surely Lady Duncaster must have told you something that can help us in our search?” Fiona pressed.

“
Your
search, you mean?” Emily muttered.

“I'm afraid not,” Lady Sarah said. “In fact, Lady Duncaster is convinced it doesn't exist.”

“Then why would Grandmamma mention it in her diary?” Fiona asked, directing a very pointed look at all of them.

“She made a direct reference to it?” Lady Sarah asked, sounding understandably surprised.

“Not precisely,” Laura said, offering Fiona a reprimanding look. “There is merely an entry about Grandpapa going to Thorncliff to retrieve a box. Nothing more.”

“That's not exactly how she phrased it,” Fiona complained.

“It's close enough,” Laura insisted, while Rachel shook her head, no doubt bothered by her sisters' lack of precision.

“Did your grandmother include any more details?” Lady Sarah asked. She'd edged forward in her seat and was looking very keen, with her eyes expectantly trained on Fiona.

“Only that Grandpapa promised he would return the following day, but for some mysterious reason he decided to board a ship in Portsmouth with Lord Duncaster instead.” Fiona looked at them each in turn. “Don't you see? It's clear they were up to something, or Grandpapa would have delayed leaving or at the very least have sent Grandmamma a note of explanation.”

Christopher frowned. It was one thing to indulge his sister's imagination and the longing she had to uncover a grand treasure, but to openly discuss the tragic death of their grandfather like this wasn't something he could allow. Before he could put an end to the folly, though, Chadwick said, “Something urgent must have occurred for both of them to leave with such haste.”

“Precisely,” Fiona exclaimed, “and if I could just find out what it might have been, perhaps I'll find the treasure. There has to be a link somehow.”

“Or none at all,” Emily told Fiona kindly. “After all, Grandmamma wrote that Grandpapa came here in order to bring back a box. I'm sure Lord Duncaster would have had it waiting, so if they did leave in haste as we suspect, it ought to have been discovered by somebody. Unless of course Grandpapa took it with him, in which case it's probably resting on the bottom of the English Channel.”

“I don't believe that's the case,” Fiona insisted. “I'm confident it's somewhere here, and I intend to find it.”

“But it does seem a little odd that Lady Duncaster found nothing on the entire estate when she renovated it last. From what I understand, the work was extensive,” Lady Sarah pointed out with a hesitant glance in Christopher's direction.

He realized then that she'd noticed his reaction to the conversation and was trying to discourage Fiona from getting too caught up in a dream that would likely disappoint her. He was grateful to her for that.

“I have to confess that you make a good argument,” Fiona said, biting her lip.

“Well then, since that's settled, I would like to be the first to request a dance from each of you ladies this evening,” Chadwick said with a smile bright enough to outdo the sun. “If I may?”

Christopher stiffened. He didn't mind his sisters dancing with Chadwick—­indeed, he was Christopher's friend and as such a respectable gentleman. Besides, they knew him so well that he was practically family. But Lady Sarah . . . Christopher held his breath while each of his sisters promised a dance to Chadwick—­a quadrille, a country dance and a cotillion. Good Lord, maybe he was losing his head and his heart over her. The surge of panic he felt was certainly acute.

“Which dance would you prefer, Lady Sarah?” Chadwick finally asked, while Christopher tried to slow his beating heart. He attempted a smile in an effort to hide the scowl he could feel creeping across his forehead.

Her eyes met his with a look of concern, and Christopher immediately realized her predicament. She'd stayed away from him for two days, most likely due to fear. Or, considering her response toward him when he'd kissed her, perhaps she felt as drawn to him as he was to her but didn't believe in the possibility of their sharing a future together. Except now she had to consider Chadwick, whom she could not turn down without being rude, even though Christopher sensed that she wanted to. “If I may,” he said, deciding to help not only Lady Sarah but himself as well, “I would suggest dancing a reel with Chadwick, and if you are amiable to the idea, I would be honored if you would consider partnering with me for the waltz.”

Her eyes widened a little, her smile a bit tighter than he would have liked, no doubt because he'd taken her choice away from her. A mistake, he supposed, but a necessary one if he was going to prevent Mr. Denison from claiming the most intimate dance of the evening.

“An excellent suggestion,” Lady Sarah said, her expression softening as she turned to Chadwick. “I shall look forward to it.”

“He does dance the reel to perfection,” Laura said. “I daresay you won't be disappointed.”

“My only concern is that
he
might be,” Lady Sarah said with a hesitant glance at Christopher. “I haven't danced at all these last two years.”

“No need to worry,” Christopher told her, forcing her to look at him. The apprehension that shone in the depths of her clear blue eyes was unmistakable. “We'll help you through it.”

A puzzled expression crossed her face, as if she wasn't sure he was speaking of the dance or of something else entirely. He'd been speaking from his heart, in reference to the troubles she faced—­troubles that he would at long last be able to help her overcome.

“Lady Sarah,” he said as he held out his hand toward her. “Perhaps you would care for a stroll in the garden?”

She was looking up at him with a guarded expression, and he could sense her attempting to find an excuse that wouldn't embarrass either of them. Eventually she said, “That would be lovely. I'm sure your sisters and Chadwick would like to join us though. We can cross the Chinese bridge to the pavilion out on the island perhaps. Have you ever seen anything quite so exotic in an English garden before?”

And just like that, Lady Sarah was wandering off with the Heartly sisters at her side, amicably talking to them while Christopher and Chadwick followed behind. Somehow, he would have to find another opportunity to get her alone so he could confront her about her past and about her father's approval of him as a suitor.

“I
'm sorry to disturb you,” Sarah said when she was ushered into Lady Duncaster's private sitting room later that afternoon and found her ladyship dressed in the most peculiar outfit.

Lady Duncaster's face lit up, and she pirouetted around with one foot off the ground. “Isn't it wonderful?”

Sarah blinked. “I'm not sure I know what it is.”

“Pantaloons!” Lady Duncaster placed her feet in a wide stance so Sarah could see that the billowing fabric constituted a pair of legs rather than an oddly shaped skirt. “I learned to wear these when I was living in India with my parents, long before I met George. They're extremely practical and far more comfortable than any English clothing I've ever seen.”

“And on top . . . is that a shirt of some sort?” Sarah asked as she studied Lady Duncaster's garment with interest.

Lady Duncaster held out her arms. “It's a tunic that I can put on over my head without anyone's assistance. Again, it's very practical and doesn't require the use of that awful corset.”

“It's very flattering as well,” Sarah told her honestly.

Lady Duncaster beamed. “Thank you, my dear. Now, what did you wish to discuss with me?”

“I was actually hoping you might be willing to take me on a tour of the tunnels beneath Thorncliff. I understand they're quite extensive.”

Lady Duncaster's mouth tilted. “Looking for a bit of adventure?”

“Something like that,” Sarah said. What she truly wanted was escape from her parents, Mr. Denison and Lord Spencer. Especially after Lord Spencer had kissed her, forcing her to consider him in a way she'd previously tried to avoid. But there was no avoiding it now, with the memory of his lips pressed against hers forever ingrained in her mind.