Sally MacKenzie Bundle (172 page)

At that, Richard dropped his hands and walked off the dance floor, stranding Sarah in the middle of the ballroom. The other couples, the sharp-eyed young girls and their foppish partners, swirled around her. She heard their sniggering and whispering, felt their gloating eyes. The hundreds of candles flickering throughout the room in the chandeliers and wall sconces could well have been the fires of hell.

She wondered if she would ever waken from this nightmare.

Robbie and Charles found James at White’s the next week.

“Gentlemen,” James said, putting down his newspaper, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“It ain’t a pleasure, Alvord.” Robbie took the chair across from him. “Damn, you look like
hell.”

“Thank you, Robbie. Always complimentary. Do you have some observations of a personal nature to make also, Charles?”

Charles dropped down into the seat next to Robbie. “He’s right. You
do
look like hell.”

James bowed his head in acknowledgment. “I shall take due note of my declining physical state.” He picked up his newspaper. “Don’t let me keep you from your engagements.”

“That’s exactly it, James,” Charles said. “Why isn’t there an engagement?”

“I beg your pardon?” James looked at them over the edge of his paper.

“Now don’t go all ducal on us, James,” Robbie said. “Charles is right. I thought you were getting engaged to my cousin. Honor requires it, don’t you know.”

“I will not discuss Miss Hamilton.”

“You damn well will discuss her or I’ll be meeting you at dawn.”

“Robbie,” Charles said, “lower your voice. I don’t think we need to make your cousin’s troubles the talk of White’s any more than they already are.”

“Damnation.” Robbie looked around. The other men in the room were studiously reading their newspapers, ears cocked in their direction. He lowered his voice. “Look, Alvord, while you’ve been making yourself scarce, the damn
ton
has been tearing Sarah apart. Your bloody cousin left her in the middle of the dance floor at Wainwright’s last week, and even that American—Dunlap—ain’t around much anymore.”

“Robbie.” James shut his eyes.

“What’s wrong, James?” Charles said. “All of what Robbie says is true. I thought you cared for Sarah.”

James took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Gentlemen, you have delivered your message.”

Robbie gaped at James. “That’s all you have to say?”

“That’s all I
can
say.”

“You’re not going to tell us what is going on?”

“No.”

“Well, dammit, James, at least promise to see her. Come to the Palmerson do tonight. Sarah will be there. See for yourself.”

“Robbie…”

“No, I’m not going to let you out of it. Charles and I will find you and drag you there if need be, right, Charles?”

Charles nodded. “We have to know that you’ve seen her for yourself, James. If you still want to go on as you have once you’ve seen her, well…” Charles spread his hands. “I can’t believe you could be so cold, but at least I’ll feel like we did our best to bring you to your senses.”

“Do we have your word that you’ll be there?” Robbie asked.

James sat still, then nodded once. “It will not make any difference, but I will come.”

“Good. Come on then, Charles, let’s get out of here.”

James did not watch Robbie and Charles leave. Instead he took the note he had received after the Wainwright ball out of his pocket. He opened it, but he didn’t need to read it. He had memorized the words:

Miss Hamilton says she is still a virgin. Since her continued good health depends on her maintaining that state, you would be best advised to avoid her.

The note wasn’t signed, but James recognized Richard’s writing.

Damn. He’d thought Richard was a danger only to him, but if he were threatening Sarah…

Had
Richard murdered Molly, the girl at the Green Man? And that girl back at University, the one they had fished out of the River Cam, her neck broken—had he killed her, also? James had discounted the rumors then. Perhaps he had been wrong to do so.

And Dunlap—who the hell was he? He was obviously connected to Richard in some way, but he was proving to be an extremely elusive fellow. Parks had not been able to gather any definite information on him yet.

He felt so bloody powerless. He’d put men to trailing Richard. He’d sent Parks and his associates out to scour the seedier sections of London. He’d hired a couple of Bow Street Runners to keep an eye on Sarah.

And now he’d follow this damn note’s dictates until he had a clearer view of Richard’s plans.

He didn’t want to stay away from Sarah. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight—not ever. He wanted to guard her day and night. Especially at night. In bed. He’d cover her sweet body with his. To keep her safe, of course.

He crossed his legs and turned to the financial page, making certain the newspaper covered his lap. God, to be sitting in the middle of White’s on St. James’s Street, probably as far from any female as possible in London, and
still
grow hard thinking of Sarah.

He made himself focus on the solid numbers. He would go to Palmerson’s tonight. He had given his word. If he didn’t go on his own, Robbie would find him and drag him there anyway. And truly he was starved for a glimpse of Sarah. Maybe he would see a way to bring an end to this agony.

“Lady Gladys, I really don’t feel up to going to the Marquis of Palmerson’s tonight,” Sarah said. “I have a headache.”

“A headache?” Lady Gladys put down her sewing and frowned.

“Balderdash.” Lady Amanda pointed her needle at Sarah. “Stiffen your spine, girl. Don’t let a bunch of old fools keep you from going about.”

Sarah sighed. “Lady Amanda, I have stiffened my spine till I think it will shatter. I wish you and Lady Gladys would just concentrate on finding me some employment. I’m sure I could be a companion, if not a teacher.”

“I thought I had already found you some employment, Sarah, as companion to my nephew.”

“And I thought your nephew was not such a cod’s head.” Lady Amanda clipped a knot. “When I told him to be more circumspect, I didn’t mean for him to vanish.”

“You spoke to his grace?”

“After the incident in Easthaven’s garden, I did.”

“Oh, no.” Sarah closed her eyes.

“I’m not certain that was the best idea, Amanda.”

“Someone had to speak to the boy. He was making micefeet of things.”

Sarah sat quietly next to Lady Amanda in the carriage on the way to Lord Palmerson’s townhouse.

“Should be quite a crush.” Robbie’s voice was a trifle too hearty. “I’m sure
everyone
is going to be there.”

“I suppose you mean James will make an appearance?” Lady Gladys sounded skeptical.

“Said he would, didn’t he, Charles?”

“Yes. He promised he would come.”

“Did he say why he’s been avoiding us?” Lizzie asked.

“Well, no, can’t say that he did.” Robbie coughed. Sarah felt his eyes on her. “Something important, I’m sure. You know how James is.”

“Not anymore, I don’t,” Lady Gladys said.

Sarah wanted to seep into the carriage cushions.

Lady Amanda leaned over and patted her hand. “Don’t worry, dear,” she whispered. “Everything will work out for the best.”

Sarah appreciated Lady Amanda’s gesture, but she didn’t take much comfort from her words. Her only solace was that soon the ladies would have to give up their plans to marry her off to James.

“Miss Hamilton, so glad you could come.” Lady Palmerson made a show of looking behind Sarah in the receiving line. Robbie was greeting her husband. “And the Duke of Alvord? Is he out of town?”

“I don’t believe so.” Sarah kept her voice level.

“No? So odd—he had become such a regular at the Season’s entertainments, we had come to expect him.” Lady Palmerson’s faded blue eyes sharpened. “He is rather conspicuously absent, is he not?” She might as well have licked her chops, she was salivating so over the juicy morsel of gossip she sniffed in James’s absence.

“I believe he may look in tonight,” Robbie said, disengaging his hand from Lord Palmerson’s flaccid grasp.

“Really? How delightful. I will look forward to seeing him.”

And to seeing what a stir his presence will cause, Sarah thought as she entered the ballroom on Robbie’s arm.

She danced the opening set with Robbie. She felt she did a good job of ignoring the sideways glances, the muffled giggles, and the whispers and murmurings. She kept smiling, even though her stomach was knotted into a hard ball.

She sat out the next two sets. The Duchess of Rothingham condescended to keep her company for the last of those.

“I don’t see the duke here tonight.”

Sarah tried not to sigh. Or to scream. “I don’t believe he has arrived yet.”

“Oh, is he coming then?”

“I really can’t say. My cousin, Westbrooke, says so.”

The duchess adjusted the ruffle on the low neck of her dress. “I thought you were staying at Alvord House.”

Sarah gritted her teeth. “I am.”

“And you don’t see the duke to speak to? How odd.”

“He’s very busy. I’m really here to keep his sister, Lady Elizabeth, company.”

“Oh.” The duchess smiled. “I see.”

“My dance, I believe?”

Sarah had never been so delighted to see Charles. She turned to the duchess and forced a smile to her lips. “Excuse me, please.”

The duchess inclined her head.

Sarah danced twice with Charles and once more with Robbie before Mr. Symington presented himself. As he steered her clumsily around the perimeter of the dance floor, she scanned the ballroom. James still had not arrived. She swallowed her disappointment. She
knew
she should not have listened to Robbie when he’d said James would come. More, she should not have allowed herself to hope James would take her in his arms and waltz her past the nasty little gossips of the
ton.

The music ended. Sarah smiled at Mr. Symington, but he was looking over her shoulder at someone entering the ballroom.

The couples around her began to murmur, their eyes darting from her to the new arrival. The tide of whispering rushed outward to the farthest corners of the room.

Sarah closed her eyes briefly, swallowed, and then turned. The entire room held its breath.

She looked directly into James’s eyes. She might have seen a flash of warmth there, but it was gone before she could be certain.

He turned away, inclining his head to Lady Palmerson. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“Quite all right, your grace,” Lady Palmerson said, shooting Sarah a look of wicked glee. “We’re happy you could come at all.”

Simple Symington stared, goggle-eyed, at James’s retreating back.

“Please excuse me.” Sarah kept her head up and walked slowly over to where the chaperones were sitting. She felt every eye on her, heard the murmuring
ton
relish her humiliation. Well, she would refuse to look humiliated. She lowered herself into a chair. Her eyes were on the dance floor, but all she saw was James’s face.

She felt a gentle hand on her knee. She glanced to her right, but Lady Amanda was already moving away. She watched her cross the room and stop to whisper something in Mrs. Fallwell’s ear. Mrs. Fallwell’s head came up like a startled deer’s. Her glance darted to Sarah, then she turned and said something to Lady Amanda. Lady Amanda smiled and shrugged.

Robbie came to collect his second dance. “I’m so sorry, Sarah,” he said quietly as he bowed over her hand. “I asked James to come tonight. I never thought he’d treat you this way.”

“It’s all right, Robbie.” Sarah did not want to talk about James. She did not have that firm a grip on her composure, and she knew everyone was watching her to see when she would break. She did not want to give them that satisfaction.

“I’ll call him out, I swear, and put a bullet through him.” Robbie grimaced. “If I can. The blood—blasted man’s a crack shot.”

“Don’t, Robbie.” Sarah was touched that her cousin cared about her enough to confront his friend. It made her feel less alone. “You know I always said I couldn’t marry James.”

“Well, I don’t see why you can’t. It would be the best thing for both of you.”

Mercifully, from Sarah’s perspective, the music began and she and Robbie were separated by the patterns of the dance.

Afterwards, Robbie returned her to her seat. The women near her moved, whispering and throwing her sidelong glances. If she had felt shunned before, she now felt like a true pariah.

She watched James dance with Charlotte Wickford. They made a lovely couple, if one were fond of statuary. Lady Charlotte might be a good match for James in rank and background, but a marriage between them would be a disaster. James’s face held none of the warmth and humor she remembered from their weeks at Alvord.

She sighed. It was time for Mr. Symington to claim his second dance. She saw him approaching and tried to smile. Then Lord Stevenson, the biggest prig she had ever met, stopped his progress. She was not disappointed. Every moment Mr. Symington was delayed was one less moment of his boring monologue.

Lord Stevenson kept talking. Mr. Symington looked over. He said something to Lord Stevenson and the other man nodded. Then Mr. Symington shook his head and turned away.

How odd. Sarah was relieved not to have to listen to him go on about his children and grandchildren, but he had never missed a dance before. Perhaps an emergency had occurred. But no, he didn’t leave the ball. He asked Mrs. Lombard to partner him.

Sarah sat alone through three more sets. Finally, she decided she had earned a retreat to the ladies’ retiring room. She had no trouble making her way around the crowded dance floor. The knots of people parted like the Red Sea to let her pass. She sighed with relief when she stepped into the hall and out of the
ton’s
view. She hoped the retiring room would be deserted.