No Decent Gentleman (14 page)

"Good, Henry's assets are safe now," Uncle Charles said, nodding. "With your business acumen, those assets will surety grow, and you won't need to bother Tess or me for our signatures any time you make investments or expenditures."

"What about my father's burial in hallowed ground?" Sabrina asked.

"The prince is still working on that," Adam answered. "The request goes through Prinny, who, as you may know, is not held in the highest regard by the Church."

"Fiddle the Church," Sabrina exclaimed, making both men smile. "My father did not commit suicide. His body lying at that infernal crossroads is a travesty."

"Princess, I agree with you," Adam replied. "Unless Prince Adolphus can finagle a special dispensation, we must investigate the circumstances surrounding your father's death."

"How will we do that?" she asked.

"In a few days we will sit down and discuss the events of that day," Adam told her. "Until then, I want you to begin writing down everything you can remember. Start with a week or so before his death and stop when Uncle Charles and I arrived in Abingdon. Consider no detail too small. The more you write, the more you will remember."

"I understand."

"Shall we go in search of Forbes and Winston?" he asked. "I assume they went outside to the garden."

Sabrina nodded. She turned to the duke and said, "We'll meet in the drawing room for tea shortly."

Adam and Sabrina left the study and walked down the corridor to the rear of the town house. He led her down one flight to the lowest level and out the door that opened onto the foggy garden area.

"When January dies, the fog dies with it," Adam told her. "November is the worst month of the year for it."

"Where does it come from?" Sabrina asked, unable to see more than a few feet in front of her.

"Coal fires."

"And what is that horrid smell?" she asked.

"Horse manure," he answered with a smile. "And don't ask where that comes from."

"I prefer the pristine countryside where January's sunsets are reflected on the glazed surface of snow," Sabrina said, giving him an unamused look. "In Abingdon, we mark the passing of the seasons through nature, not the density of the fog. Now, where is the dog?"

Adam whistled. Forbes and Winston materialized out of the fog from the far side of the garden. Obviously happy to see the marquess, the wolfhound leaped up, placed his forelegs against Adam's solid chest, and tried to lick his face.

"Sit down," Adam ordered.

Hearing the voice of authority, the dog obeyed instantly.

"Thank you, Forbes. You may return to your duties," Adam said, pulling the pink ribbon off Winston. He turned to Sabrina, whose emerald gaze was fixed on the ribbon. "Boys do not wear ribbons. How demeaning for a wolfhound to endure the indignity of a pink ribbon."

"Winston likes pink ribbons," Sabrina insisted.

Adam cocked a dark brow at her. "And when did he share this preference with you?"

"Don't be absurd," she snapped in irritation. How dare he treat her like a peabrain.

"You, on the other hand, would look most becoming in a pink ribbon," Adam said. A devastatingly wicked smile kissed his lips when he added, "Especially if you wore nothing else."

"How dare you," Sabrina exclaimed, blushing furiously. "You, my lord, are the boldest man I've ever met. No decent gentleman would speak so provocatively to a lady." At that, she showed him her back.

"I apologize for behaving badly," Adam whispered against her ear. "Shall we return inside?"

His warm breath on her neck sent a delicious shiver dancing down her spine. His clean masculine scent of bay assaulted her senses and made her feel weak all over.

Sabrina shook her head and turned to face him, telling his chest, "I have something I wish to discuss before we join the others."

"What is that, Princess?"

Summoning her courage, Sabrina looked up at him. "I do not like breaking mourning," she said. "I don't feel right, even though my father wished it."

"You are suffering from a mild case of nerves," Adam told her, hooking her arm through his and leading her toward the door. "Meeting new people can be frightening. Trust me, Princess, all will be well in the end."

Sabrina let him escort her inside. What had she expected? That he would free her from their betrothal? Send her home to rusticate in Abingdon Manor until she felt ready? That would be a kindness foreign to his authoritarian nature.

"We'll go riding in Hyde Park in the mornings," Adam said as they walked up the stairs to the drawing room. "All the very best people do. Have you ever been in London?"

Sabrina shook her head. "I visited once as a child."

"I'll take you sightseeing," he said. "What would you like to see first? Westminster Abbey? The shops on Bond Street? One of the palaces?"

"The Tower of London," she told him.

"Ah, what a bloodthirsty wench," he teased, making her smile. "The Tower of London it shall be."

They walked into the drawing room in time to see Winston make a mad dash for the food tray. "Winston, sit," Adam called.

Unlike his first night at Abingdon Manor, the wolfhound ignored the command and began gobbling up the cucumber sandwiches. Adam grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him back, ordering, "Lie down." This time the dog obeyed him.

"Winston has developed a fondness for cucumber sandwiches," Belladonna drawled.

"He even drinks tea," Tess added, making everyone but the marquess smile.

Adam turned to Sabrina and leveled an accusing look on her, saying, "You've spoiled him."

Sabrina didn't know what to say to that. She hadn't really spoiled him, merely lost a bit of control, though she would never admit it to him.

Adam dropped his gaze to her gown. "This is the last time I want to see you in black." He rounded on his aunt and said, "Throw all of their black gowns out."

"That won't be necessary," Sabrina spoke up.

"It is if I say so," he said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

"You do not own Courtney and me," Sabrina told him, ready to do battle. "We will wear whatever—"

"Oh, but I do own you," Adam interrupted her intended tirade. "I hold the receivership rights to the Savage assets."

Sabrina clamped her lips shut.

"That's better."

"Sabrina, dear, look across the drawing room," Aunt Tess said in a poor attempt to change the subject. "What a lovely lacquered screen, don't you think? Charles said it came from the Orient."

Sabrina glanced across the room at the full-length lacquered, handpainted screen. "Yes, quite a lovely piece," she agreed, her irritation apparent in her voice and expression.

Baxter and Forbes chose that moment to walk into the drawing room with trays of more sandwiches and cookies. "See, cousin," Forbes was saying as they crossed the chamber. "I told you the first setting was for the dog."

Baxter looked at the dog with a mixture of fear and disgust. When he started to pour the tea, Adam stopped him.

"We'll serve ourselves," he said.

"As you wish, my lord."

"I've already informed your staff that the coming-out ball will be held here," Adam told his uncle. "My staff is prepared to help."

Uncle Charles nodded. "I knew you'd take care of the arrangements."

"Tess and I did so wish to plan this party," Belladonna said.

"Time was of the essence," Adam told her, softening his voice. "Lady Burke and you have authority over the girls. Nothing is more important than our little debutantes."

"And when is this gala to take place?" Sabrina asked coldly, still smarting over being rebuked.

"The first day of February."

"That's Saturday," Courtney exclaimed.

Sabrina felt a rising tide of panic swelling within her breast. Managing to maintain a calm exterior, she said, "We can't possibly be ready—"

"You can, and you will," Adam cut her words off. "Being introduced into society will be easier during the little season. After Easter, every aristocrat in England will be in residence. This way, by the time the majority of them arrive, you will already possess the experience to handle the great bejeweled horde. I have sent the invitations, and Prince Adolphus is definitely attending."

"There's your opportunity to ask the prince if he knew your natural parents," Uncle Charles said.

"Well, I suppose so."

"Thank heavens you had the foresight to send London's finest dressmakers to Abingdon," Belladonna said to Adam.

"Their wardrobes will be delivered in the morning," Tess added.

"Excellent. Now, I regret I am late for an appointment," Adam said. He turned unexpectedly to Sabrina and asked, "Will you walk with me to the foyer?"

"I don't think so," Sabrina replied tightly.

"Yes, my lady, you will walk with me to the foyer," Adam countered, then added more softly, "Or would you prefer to argue in front of our relatives? I'm certain a few of the servants are lurking about. They'll tell their friends, who, in turn, will tell their masters. And then—"

"And then the sky will fall or the oceans will swell or the earth will swallow us up," Sabrina snapped, surrendering to the inevitable. She rose from the chair and, without waiting for him, crossed the drawing room to the door. Fuming over his highhandedness, she refused to look at him or speak as they descended one flight to the foyer.

Baxter handed the marquess his cloak. With a flick of his wrist, Adam gestured Baxter and Forbes to withdraw a bit down the corridor.

"Look at me," Adam said to her.

Sabrina stared at his chin.

"A little higher, please," he said, laughter lurking in his voice.

Sabrina lifted her gaze to his and saw him smiling at her.

"Princess, have I ever mentioned that anger becomes you?" he asked.

"From this moment on, I shall endeavor to be pleasant," she replied, and then forced a stiff smile onto her face.

Adam chuckled. "Countess, you are more entertaining than a troupe of Drury Lane players."

"And you are more arrogant man Napoleon," she shot back.

Adam inclined his head, acknowledging her wit. "I'll be bringing my friend, the Duke of Kinross, and his American wife to visit tomorrow," he told her. "I hope that you and Lily will become friends. She's had a difficult time making friends among the ton, though no one has been particularly rude to her."

Sabrina arched a perfectly shaped copper brow at him. "Two outcasts united in their misery?"

"That's not what I meant," Adam said. "I simply believe that you and she will be good companions, as long as you don't hold it against her that I introduced you."

"I would never do that," Sabrina defended herself. "I prefer to judge people on their own merits."

"Unlike your neighbor Lord Briggs."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I must warn you," Adam said, lowering his voice. "A friend told me that the baron is in London and telling people that you and your sister are adopted bastards."

"I don't believe you," Sabrina cried, too angry to wince at the word she'd come to despise. "Edgar would never hurt me in any way."

"Then how would this friend know you are adopted?"

"Perhaps your friend has the Sight," Sabrina suggested. "Please leave me. Your words have given me a headache."

"Countess, you are made of sterner stuff than that," Adam said.

Without warning, he leaned close and drew her against his body. Before she could react, his mouth swooped down and captured hers in an ardent, lingering kiss that stole her breath away.

"I've wanted to do that for a month," Adam whispered against her lips. Then he released her and walked out the door.

Dazed by his ardor, Sabrina raised her fingers to her kiss-bruised lips and stared after him. What would it be like to be kissed that way every night for the next fifty years?

When she regained her composure, Sabrina turned away from the door and crossed the foyer to the staircase. "Forbes! Baxter!" she shouted.

The two men came running.

"Baxter, hurry to the kitchen," Sabrina ordered. "Tell the cook I'll need flour, eggs, baking soda—"

"Flour, eggs, baking soda?" Baxter echoed in shock.

"That's what I said. Is your hearing impaired?" she snapped. "Forbes, tell him what I'll need directly after supper is finished."

"Cousin, my lady feels the need to cook," Forbes said, already turning away to do her bidding.

"The countess is cooking?" Baxter sounded even more shocked.

"No, I'm baking tonight."

"Baking?" Baxter echoed.

"I'm baking something special for the marquess."

"Thick gingerbread, my lady?" Forbes asked, a knowing smile appearing on his face.

"No," Sabrina answered, turning to march up the stairs. "Hemlock pie."

Chapter 7

Winston growled.

Alone in the drawing room, Sabrina shifted her gaze from her needlework to the wolfhound. The growling dog, alert to danger, had lifted his head and was staring toward the doorway.

Sabrina whirled around to see no one, but a second later Baxter walked into the room. "Hush, Winston," she ordered as he continued growling low in his throat. "You know Baxter."

"My lady, Lord Briggs has arrived for a visit," Baxter announced. "I tried to tell him you weren't—" Before he could finish, Edgar brushed past him and walked across the drawing room toward her.

"Edgar, what are you doing here?" Sabrina asked, rising from the couch.

"I've come to visit my dearest friend," the baron answered, giving her an easy smile.

Winston growled again and Lord Briggs stopped short ten paces from her.

"Winston, lie down," Sabrina ordered, imitating the marquess's stern tone of voice.

The wolfhound obeyed, but he kept his dark eyes fixed on the baron. His small ears cocked into alertness.

"I've missed you," Edgar said, closing the distance between them and taking her hands in his. He smiled warmly at her and let his gaze drift downward to her outfit.

Sabrina thought she looked pretty, in spite of her misgivings about breaking mourning. Her short-sleeved gown had been fashioned in white silk with forest-green polka dots. Its bodice and overskirt were solid forest-green velvet. A bow and long streamers of forest green adorned her right shoulder, and she wore matching velvet slippers on her feet.