Stand and Deliver Your Love (13 page)

Chapter
Thirteen

Byron spurred Bacchus forward to keep up with the rest of the hunting party as they followed the boar across the soft grass. The field of peacefully grazing sheep scattered, bleating pathetically as the men and horses thundered through their midst. The baying of the hounds became earnest as the boar ducked into a small thicket. Within moments the dogs flushed the frightened animal from its hiding place. The king fired upon it. The beast twitched but kept coming. It took two more shots before with one last squeal the animal dropped, blood oozing from the wound in its side.

Voices rose in congratulations to the king. Byron smiled and added his praise to those of the other lords present, not wanting to appear unappreciative, even though he really didn't enjoy
hunting boar. When the footmen had the boar gutted and strung across the carrying rack, everyone headed back to the hunting lodge at a more leisurely pace. Byron gave Bacchus a pat as he paid attention for any hitch in the animal’s stride which would betray any lingering aftereffects of his injury from the carriage accident. The horse seemed fine, he noted with relief.

The king reined in his prancing mount alongside Byron’s. “What a splendid animal.”

“Yes, the boar will make a very fine meal,” Byron agreed, shielding his eyes from the blazing sun.

“That it will, but I was referring to your horse,” the king replied with an easy grin. “Where did you get such an impressive mount?”

Byron smoothed a lock of his horse’s mane fondly before he answered. “I bred him myself, Your Excellence.”

“Is that so? I have to purchase more mounts for the army this year and would like to see the rest of your stock.”

“I have twenty two-year-olds and another twenty started three-year-olds I could be persuaded to part with.”

“Are they all as nice as this one?”

“There is none that equal Bacchus, Your Majesty,” Byron admitted. He smiled respectfully, “but they are all fine horses by the same sire.”

The king held his eye with a level gaze. “Then sell me this one.”

“At risk of offending you, Your Eminence, I have to decline. This one is not for sale at any price,” Byron said, carefully.

The king favored him with a deferential look. “Ah. You are a smart and honest man, Lord Cobbett. Only a fool sells that which he cannot replace if he values it. I see I chose well when I put you in charge of finding that troublesome band of thieves who have been robbing my people.”

Byron swallowed uncomfortably. “About that Your Excellence, I am not sure your faith in me is fully justified.”

“Nonsense.” The king kicked his horse forward through the gates to the palace. “I have complete faith in you.”

Byron groaned and followed. Sarah had yet to make an appearance at the hunt. He needed to find her and convince her to give up her midnight masquerade as the highwayman. If the problem of the highwayman disappeared then he could go back to his country estate. The king would be happy and none the wiser.

A groom hurried forward to take his horse as he reined in at the grand steps of the king’s country residence. He dismounted and tossed the man a shilling. “Rub him down well and keep an eye on the left front leg.”

 
“Yes, your lordship.” The man nodded, pocketing the coin and led Bacchus off toward the stables. Byron strode up the steps wondering if and when Sarah would make her appearance. Once inside he headed for his room to bathe off some of the hunt dust and change into dinner attire.

 
Lady Livington stepped out from the shadows of the hall as he topped the stairs leading to the guest rooms in the west wing. “There you are, my lord. I have been so bored here all day long without your company,” she crooned, leaning into him in a suggestive manner, pursing her lips in an exaggerated pout.

Byron sighed and held her at arm’s length. “I am just on my way to bathe off the dirt, Lady Livington.”

She gave him a seductive smile and lowered her voice, “I could help you.”

Byron cleared his throat.
Does the woman have no morals at all?
“No, thank you,” he said as firm as he could without being rude, “I have a valet for these things.”

“Darling, it would be much more rewarding if I were to attend to your many
… needs.” She looked down at the barely concealed lump in the front of his riding breeches with open lust.

My God, if I do not get out of here quickly, the woman might accost me right here on the stairs!
His rattled mind strained to come up with an excuse. He finally found his voice when she stood on her toes and ran her tongue along his ear. He stepped back, pushing her from him. “As much as I appreciate your offer, Lady Livington, my valet probably has my bath ready and is waiting to assist me. I would not like us to be the center of any gossip surrounding daytime trysts this weekend.”

Lady Livington giggled. “You are so shy it is sweet. I shall wait until later tonight to be discreet.” With that she flounced off with a seductive wiggle down the stairs leaving him to continue on to his room alone.

Byron entered his room, glad to note his valet did indeed have his bath and a clean change of clothes ready and waiting. He poured himself a brandy, stripped off his dusty riding gear and slid into the hot bath water. A whole weekend trying to fend off Lady Livington was going to be a challenge. It was only the first day and already his patience was wearing thin.

Maybe I should sleep with the woman then she might leave me alone. No, that would just lead to her pursuing me even more aggressively. Perhaps I should tell her I am courting someone, but who? Will the woman take the announcement with grace or will she continue to throw herself at me? Eventually she would find out there is no one in my life.
He grimaced and downed the last of his brandy in one swallow. Like his glass, his life was empty.

Byron poured himself another glass of brandy from the decanter on the table by the bathing tub and sunk lower into the water. He studied the amber liquid as he rolled the glass between his fingers. Had the glass of his life ever truly been full? Had he really loved Clarissa? He thought he did at the time, but now he wasn't so sure. He had been fond of her, but she hadn't made him lose all reason when she kissed him as Sarah did. Did he only lust after Sarah or was there more to his infatuation? His mind wandered back to her lush curves and the inexperienced wantonness her body displayed when she cried out for the fulfillment of his touch. His loins stirred under the water. With a groan he set down his glass and sank under the water trying to wash away her memory.

Byron emerged from his bath twenty minutes later, feeling refreshed and determined to reject Lady Livington as kindly as possible. A trip abroad for a few months would quell her obsession with him and rid him of thoughts of Sarah’s body. All he had to do was convince Sarah to give up her life of crime then he could inform the king he no longer needed his assistance and be off.    

 
Byron smiled at his reflection in the mirror as he checked his dinner dress. It was time he stopped brooding and took life for all it had to offer again. He owed Sarah a debt of thanks for that. She awakened his dead soul. Satisfied his appearance was in order he sauntered from the room and made his way to the grand parlor where the rest of the twenty or so guests would gather.

He had just poured himself a glass of port, when a downstairs maid handed him a note. He
opened it.

  
‘Meet me at midnight in your room, with my possessions.’

                     
‘Sarah.’

“Is there trouble at your estate?”

Byron looked up as the king reached for the brandy decanter. “No, everything is fine, Your Excellency.” Byron slipped the note into the inner pocket of his vest. “Just a note from an admirer.”

The king chuckled and gave him a cocky wink. “Ah, the lovely Lady Livington, I presume.”

Byron heaved an exaggerated sigh. “It seems the lady is quite smitten with me, or my supposed pursestrings.”

“As Shakespeare said, ‘Methinks he doth protest too much,” the king said with a hearty
laugh.

Byron grinned. “It is not that I would not be interested in such a lovely piece of arm decor.
I am just so out of practice in all things ‘womanly’ you see.”

“Hehehe! You have leaned upon an unsympathetic ear my friend, for I would be in heaven if the ladies hung sincerely on my every word as they do yo
urs. To be young, wealthy and unshackled would not be so terrible a burden to most of us I dare say.”

The other men in the group chuckled. “I am certainly not wealthy, yet anyway.” Byron
’s face heated and he downed his drink to hide his embarrassment. The conversation turned to who was sporting the loveliest mistress at the present. “Did you hear Lord Kensing fought a duel in Hyde Park last week?” one of the men remarked.

“Really?” said another, “Who did he duel?”

“I hear it was that scoundrel, Hugo Houten, Lord Wellington’s cousin,” another replied.

Byron looked up at the mention of Sarah’s family name.

“What say you about Wellington?” another asked.

A perplexed frown lingered on the king's face. “The name is familiar but I cannot place it. Who is he and what was the outcome?”

The first man hurried to explain, “You remember the fellow, your excellence. The fellow who applied for guardianship of the little Wellington chit. Do you remember the one? Her parents were killed six years back.”

A glimmer of remembrance crossed the king’s face. “Yes, now that you mention it I do recall something about it. What ever happened to the girl?”

“I do not know.”

“I heard the bloke gambled away the girl’s inheritance,” someone else
volunteered.

“No, no, she married some French count and died in child birth,” another said.

Lady Livington entered the room. She crossed to where Byron stood and placed a hand on his arm in a possessive gesture. “Whom are we all speaking of?”

Byron glanced down at her, “We were all wondering what ever happened to the Wellington girl.”
  Lady Livington smirked. “Oh, I heard she was caught in a compromising position with a stable lad and sent to a nunnery.”

Byron frowned. He didn't believe Sarah would have been caught in such a situation but he wisely kept quiet. The conversation was dropped as the king signaled for them to make their way to the dining room.

The meal itself was delicious, but uneventful. Byron tried to steer clear of any one-on-one conversation with Lady Livington while trying not to look rude. All the while he watched the servants hoping one of them would be Sarah, but he saw no sign of her. He was relieved when the king finally rose after the last course was finished to signal it was time for the gentlemen to retire to the library for their customary port and cigars.

Byron took the cigar the king offered him and settled comfortably into an overstuffed armchair by the crackling fire. He stared moodily into the flames, not paying much attention to the conversation around him. Tonight he would see Sarah again. He would have to tell her the king was looking for her and her men. If he gave back her family jewels she could sell them and have enough money to care for her beloved street urchins for a while he supposed. Maybe she would refuse to sell her heirlooms, after all they were probably all she had left to remember her parents by. He frowned. It seemed unlikely she could find a job where she would earn little more than enough to keep herself clothed and fed, let alone take care of the orphans as well. There had to be a solution to the problem. Why he cared was beyond him. He supposed he merely felt sorry for her and the children, although the little voice in his head said it was far more than that. Since when had he cared about anyone other than himself in the last two years? He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the uncomfortable thought.“Is there something bothering you, Lord Cobbett?”

Byron was roused from his thoughts by the king’s query. “No. I mean yes, as a matter of fact there is something bothering me.”

The king looked momentarily mortified. “Oh dear, I hope the meal did not disagree with you.”

Byron smiled and hurried to reassure him. “No, no, it was an excellent meal, Your Majesty. I was just trying to think of a solution to a problem recently brought to my attention.”

“Anything I can do to help?” the king asked, looking pleased to hear that Byron was not ill.

Byron pondered the problem for a moment. “Perhaps you might have an idea of how to amend the issue. You see, I know of a woman who takes in orphans and unwanted children. She runs an orphanage of sorts. She is not a workhouse, but seeks to find tasks and professions for them when they are old enough.”

The king nodded. “A very commendable task.”

“Yes, it is, however the poor woman is finding herself quite taxed by the whole situation financially. It seems none of the ton will give the project much consideration or support.”

The king fixed him with a stern stare, his jaw muscles twitching with irritation. “I see, and you are hoping I will be the financial support she needs?”

“Oh no, Your Majesty,” Byron explained, not wanting the king to think he was taking advantage of his new position of trust. “I was just hoping you would have some ideas how the woman could come up with the funds she requires.”