The Seduction of Sara (26 page)

Nick looked at the bottle of brandy still clamped in his hand. With a feeling of disgust, he threw it as hard as he could. The bottle crashed against a wall and broke into a thousand pieces.

T
he sitting room of Lady Langtry's town house was an especially pleasant room. Facing the front of the house, it caught the warm morning sun. Sitting in her favorite chair, Delphi looked up from her embroidery and watched Sara and Anna contemplate a particularly absurd fashion plate. All told, she thought Sara was coming around rather nicely. Although there was a sad turn to her lips and her eyes held a rather tragic expression, her color was returning, and her appetite was healthy. Which was a good thing, considering she was to have a child.

The thought of a baby made Delphi unaccountably sad. She'd always wanted children, but fate hadn't given her the chance. She looked down at the
perfect row of stitches she'd just sewn. Maybe it hadn't been fate. Maybe it had been she, herself.

The thought caught her. Had she unwittingly put her own life on hold all those years? But why? Why had she spent her adult life tending her relatives' children, serving as nursemaid for her own aunts and uncles, and even serving as chaperone for the younger ones? She cast a furtive glance at Sara. Not that she begrudged her family whatever assistance she could offer, but still…she wasn't sure she knew what life really was. She'd gone from dutiful daughter to dutiful wife to dutiful widow in a matter of months.

Perhaps Henri had been right. Perhaps she was afraid. And now…when she looked ahead, all she saw was more of the same. Years and years of living for other people. A lump in her throat, Delphi blinked away her tears.

Anthony entered the sitting room, pausing briefly when he saw Anna sitting with Sara. Delphi thought they made a lovely picture together, Sara's dark coloring a striking contrast with Anna's vibrant red. Apparently Anthony didn't agree though, for his face darkened and he looked away, coming to Delphi and placing a kiss on her cheek. “How are you today, Aunt?”

She managed a smile. “Very well, thank you.”

“I think Sara should go to London,” Anna said. “She has no reason to stay in Bath. Besides, London has the best doctors, and she will be far more comfortable there, among her friends.”

Anthony's mouth stretched into a semblance of a
smile. “Perhaps
you
should go. I'm sure we'll all miss your company, Miss Thraxton.”

“Oh, I plan on going to London.” She smiled sweetly. “I shall make it a point to visit
all
of you.”

His smile knocked askance, Anthony opened his mouth to reply when a soft knock sounded at the door. The butler appeared, holding a silver salver bearing a single calling card. He crossed the floor and held the salver out to the duchess. “Your Grace, the Earl of Bridgeton has come to call.”

Delphi took the card, sending an uncertain glance at Sara.

“I will not see him,” she said, a stricken look in her eyes.

“And so you shan't,” Delphi said soothingly. She tossed the card back on the salver. “Please tell the earl that we are not in.”

He gave an impassive nod, then left. As soon as the door closed, Anthony said, “You can't keep him away forever, Sara. He's your husband.”

“Nonsense,” Anna said with a sniff. “He may be her husband, but he has wronged her, and she shouldn't be made to suffer his presence.”

“Perhaps what he has to say is important,” Anthony said. He shot a harsh look at Anna. “
Very
important.”

Sara continued to look at the fashion plates, but the color in her cheeks told Delphi she was listening intently to every word.

“Oh, dear,” Delphi said, “perhaps it wouldn't hurt just to see him—”

Anna made an impatient sound. “Lord Bridgeton doesn't deserve such courtesy!”

“Pardon me,” Anthony said, “but I don't believe this conversation has anything to do with you, Miss Thraxton. Kindly keep your opinions to yourself.”

“It is a pity you don't follow your own advice, Lord Greyley,” Anna shot back.

A brief scuffle sounded out in the hall. Anthony turned toward the door as it opened and in walked Nick.

He immediately looked toward Sara, whose gaze was now rigidly fastened on a fashion plate. Anna, likewise, appeared engrossed.

Anthony nodded. “Bridgeton.”

Nick returned the greeting, then looked back at Sara. “I hope I'm not intruding, but I must speak to my wife.”

Delphi bit her lip. There was something intense, almost frightening in the way Bridgeton was staring at Sara.

It was all so confusing. On the one hand, it would be best for the child if Sara and Bridgeton could work out their differences. On the other hand, it would be best for Sara not to have to deal with such an undiscerning man.

Of course, there really wasn't such a thing as a
discerning
man. Just look at the comte.

As if in answer to her thoughts, another soft knock sounded at the door. The butler reappeared with yet another card. “Your Grace, the Comte du Lac.”

Delphi blinked. Henri? Here? Her thoughts in
disarray, she stared at the card with unseeing eyes. Taking her silence as agreement, the butler bowed and left. A scant moment later, the door reopened and Henri appeared.

He came straight to her side and took her hand. “Your Grace.” He bowed, his lips brushing her knuckles.

Heat suffused Delphi's face, and she wondered suddenly if fate had given her another chance. She hoped she had the strength to accept it. She managed to smile, tightening her fingers over his.

Henri's gaze widened, a flush touching his cheeks.

“Henri!” Bridgeton's low growl came from behind him. “What are you doing here?”

Henri reluctantly released Delphi's hand. “I was walking past the house when I saw the young ladies seated here, and they made such a charming tableau that I had to come in.”

“This is the second floor, Henri,” Nick said dryly. “You must have had a very long neck to win such a sight, fetching though it is.”

Delphi watched with interest. It was difficult to imagine two more different men. The one was so suave and warm, the other cold and controlled. Today, though, the earl lacked his normal air of command. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, making him appear more intent, more dangerous; his hair was mussed and his cravat hastily knotted. A faint sheen of golden stubble even covered his cheeks. He looked disheveled and, if possible, more handsome than ever.

She slipped a glance toward Sara, but her stubborn niece was glaring down at the fashion plates as if they had offended her. Things did not bode well for the earl. Oh, dear; it was such a difficult predicament.

At a loss, Delphi caught Henri's gaze. He nodded toward the door.

Delphi's hand tightened on her embroidery frame. Here was her chance. Her one and, perhaps,
only
chance. Collecting her shaky resolve, she stood. “Well, it is certainly warm in this room. If you don't mind, I believe I will retire to the breakfast room. It is much cooler there.”

Sara promptly stood as well. “I shall accompany you—”

“Actually,” Henri interrupted, “I must take my leave, so I will be happy to escort your aunt on my way out.”

Delphi almost shivered at the excitement that trembled through her limbs. “That would be very nice, indeed. If you will excuse us?” Without waiting to see anyone's reaction, she hurriedly left.

Anthony immediately stood. “Miss Thraxton, would you like to look out at the garden? There are some particularly lovely flowers I would like to show you.”

Anna opened her mouth to argue, but Anthony grabbed her arm and unceremoniously pulled her to the window at the far end of the room.

Sara turned for the door, but Nick stepped forward and cut off her one avenue of escape. She glared at him, then decided not to give him the sat
isfaction of rattling her. This day was bound to happen, if not here, then in public. It was better to get it over with now. Chin in the air, she resumed her seat and opened her book to a random page, resolutely staring at the blurred picture.

Nick took a chair across from her, leaning forward so that his knees almost touched hers. “Sara, I've been a fool.”

He certainly wasn't going to get an argument from her on that score. She kept her gaze fastened on her book.

He placed his hand on her knee. “I've rued my actions every minute I'm awake, every second I'm asleep. Sara, I was stupid to use Lucilla to trick you. I just…I wanted to frighten you away.”

She jerked her gaze from the book. “Why?”

“Because I didn't want you to see me like—” He briefly closed his eyes. “Sara, the headaches—they are just the beginning. Eventually I will not be able to fight the pain, and I will be forced to turn to laudanum, like my mother.

“You've never seen what laudanum can do to a person. At first she only took it to ease the pain. Later, she
had
to have it. Then there came a time when she ran out. We had no funds, no money at all. The pain was horrendous.”

Sara's hands gripped the book harder. “You are not your mother.”

“No, I'm far, far weaker than she. When she realized there would be no more laudanum, she put a gun in my hand and begged me, on her knees, to end her torment. So I—” He closed his eyes, his face
a mask of torment. “I went out and I did what I had to, to procure more. I got her laudanum that day and the next and every day that she asked me to. And the things I did to pay for it—” He looked away.

Tears welled in Sara's eyes, and her heart went out to the boy Nick had been, the man he'd been forced to become—all because of one woman's addiction to poison. “But perhaps there's another way to combat your headaches, Nick.”

“It is the only thing that ever helped her,” he said grimly. “And it is what killed her.”

Sara set her book aside. “Nick, how did Violette die?”

“She threw herself from the roof of our chateau when I was thirteen.”

Sara gasped.

“Her body fell past my window, and I saw her for an instant—” His voice broke, and he swallowed. “She didn't even leave a note. Nothing.”

Sara sat in stunned silence.

“And that is why I didn't want to have children. I didn't want my child to be cursed the way my mother and I were.” He looked up at her, his eyes almost black. “Sara, I know about the baby.”

She froze. How had he found out?

“I want you back, Sara.”

“Because of the child?” Her heart contracted.

“
No
. I wanted you back before I discovered about the child.” He reached for her hand, but she yanked it away, aware that his touch could undo the tenuous control she had.

“Sara, I made a terrible mistake. Please forgive me.” Nick held his breath and waited.

She shook her head. “I'm truly sorry for your pain and fears, Nick. But that doesn't change the fact that when you faced a problem, you didn't turn to me. You shut me out, banished me from you and the home we were making. I can't live that way. I want to be part of a family. And that means facing problems together.”

“I'll try to—”

“You made decisions that affected both of our lives without ever consulting me. And you have treated me so cavalierly that I may never be able to forgive you. Good God, why didn't you just tell me you thought you might become addicted to laudanum? Am I so insignificant that I did not even deserve that?”

“Sara, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't bear the thought of you turning away from me.”

She raised tear-filled eyes to his. “Is that how little you think of me?” she whispered.

Oh, God, he was driving her farther and farther away. He desperately wished she'd let him touch her, show her how he felt. But this, trying to express himself while she sat there with hurt and accusation in her eyes—the words froze and tangled. “Sara, you don't understand—”

“But I do. You would risk everything on the basis of what
might
happen. Yes, you have headaches, though Lady Birlington seems to think it was your father who suffered from headaches and not your mother.”

Nick froze at a sudden thought. Was it possible? If his mother's only flaw had been laudanum addiction, then he would gladly bear the pain of the headaches. Sudden hope rose in his heart, though he dared not trust it yet.

“Sara, I pray to God that what Lady Birlington said is true, especially now that you are carrying my child. But you have to understand that I did what I thought was best for us both.”

“By faking an assignation with Lady Knowles? Brilliant, Bridgeton.” She stood. “Perhaps the next time you decide to rid yourself of a wife, you will have the courage to do it without so much dissembling. Good-bye.”

She stood, and the movement wafted the faint scent of lavender to him. He closed his eyes, struggling to find the words he needed. None came.

The sound of the door softly closing ripped through him like the thunder of a cannon. She had left him. And she would never return.

His heart was beyond pain, his mind numb with the realization that he had finally found love, and he'd killed it. Destroyed it with his senseless fears and his inability to open his heart to the very woman who owned it.

“Bridgeton?” Greyley murmured from behind him. “She just needs some time.”

Unable to bear the man's pity, Nick nodded shortly. Without a word, he turned and left.

Somehow, he made it back to his carriage. He climbed in and mutely sat there.

“Are we returning home, my lord?”

Home? There was no home without Sara. There wasn't anything without Sara. Nick closed his eyes. “To Hibberton Hall.”

The footman closed the door and soon the coach was rumbling out of Bath. Nick stared with unseeing eyes at the green rolling hills. Outside all was light and beauty, but in his heart was the empty desolation of aloneness, of being without Sara.

Heat prickled against his eyes, and he touched his hand to his face, then stared uncomprehendingly at the wetness from his cheek. He loved her. And she could not stand the sight of him.