The Seduction of Sara (27 page)

His fingers curled into a tight ball. Whether she wanted it or not, Sara was part of his life as he was part of hers. He'd fought for too many years, against too many demons, to sit tamely by for the most important battle of his life.

A slow calm began to build around his bruised heart. He had won past her defenses once, and he would do so again. Staring blindly out the window of the carriage, he began to plan his attack.

 

“Ah, this must be the breakfast room,” Henri said. He patted Delphi's hand where it lay on his arm. “I suppose I should be going…” He waited expectantly.

Her fingers tightened on his sleeve and he thought he saw hesitation in her eyes.

But after a moment, she smiled uncertainly and then stepped away. “Of course you must go.”

Disappointment raked through him. He'd been foolish to even come here, but he hadn't been able to
stop thinking of the delectable Delphi. This morning he'd found himself outside her house, standing on the stoop. It was a strange thing, this compulsion he had to see her, but he would not renew his offer. If she wanted him, she would have to make the first overture.

He managed a polite smile. “Good morning, then, Your Grace.”

Just as he turned away, she said in a breathless voice, “Perhaps you would like to wait for Bridgeton?”

Henri looked at her. She appeared flushed and uneasy, but because she wanted him to stay or because she didn't wish to await the outcome of the interview between Nick and Sara alone, he could not say. Still…he shrugged. “But of course.”

She immediately turned and led the way into the breakfast room.

He followed her, noting the luxurious appointments of the room. A large but delicate rosewood table filled the center of the room, while a scattering of side tables and buffets filled the walls.

Delphi gestured to the few dishes remaining on the table. “Lord Greyley must have just finished his breakfast. I will call the servants to clean this up.”

“They will come in their own time.” Henri feared his nervous companion might flee if she opened the door again. “Just leave it.”

“Very well.” She took one of the chairs and faced him with a tremulous smile. “Pray have a seat, my lord.”

He obediently took the one across from hers in an effort not to startle her, and waited.

“It is…quite cold this week, is it not?”

“Oh, very,” he agreed pleasantly.

She swallowed, her fingers nervously folding and unfolding a pleat in her skirt. “A pity it might rain.”

“Indeed.”

She dropped her gaze and stared at the carpet.

Silence filled the room and Henri became aware of how loudly the clock ticked on the sideboard. After a long moment, he noticed the
Morning Post
sitting by the forgotten dishes. He gestured toward the paper. “If you don't mind?”

Coloring, she shook her head and Henri thankfully retreated behind the paper.

Delphi stared at the back of the
Morning Post
. It was a hopeless passion, and she knew it. He was a counterfeit count, completely penniless, and far too handsome.

But some small spark of her soul yearned for a change, screamed that it was time she found some happiness before it was too late. If she wanted life, then she was going to have to force herself to embrace it.

Delphi looked at the newspaper wall, and whispered, “
Let not love drop from thy lips
.”

The
Morning Post
remained firmly in place.

Delphi closed her eyes. What was she doing? He would just laugh at her, tell her she'd had her opportunity and had frittered it away. She opened her eyes. But what if he didn't? What if he swept her into his arms and made mad, passionate love to
her? After a long moment, she said in a slightly louder voice, “
Hear me, oh love. Teach mine heart to despair not
.”

The
Morning Post
trembled slightly, and Henri murmured something vague.

Delphi stiffened. Here she was, baring her soul and Henri didn't even have the politeness to respond. She stood.

Henri looked around the edge of the paper. “Is something wrong?”

Delphi looked into his bright blue eyes and froze. After a moment, she shook her head dumbly. He gave her a quick, impersonal smile, then disappeared behind the paper once more.

She closed her eyes.
Oh, God, give me strength
. A faint trembling shook Delphi's knees, excitement warming her from the toes, up her calves, to her thighs. She gasped and pressed her hands together and clasped them to her breast. “
Oh lustful knave, tease me unto death, I care not
.”

Henri's astonished gaze appeared over the top edge of the paper. “Pardon?”

Delphi wondered how his voice would sound when raised in passion. Her heart hammering an erratic rhythm, she leaned forward against the breakfast table. She felt powerful, alive, and amazingly fierce. “
From thy honeyed mouth, sweetness drips
.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Henri dropped the
Morning Post
to the ground. “Delphi, what—”

She flattened her hands on the table and leaned even closer to Henri—her love, her life. “
Betwixt us
lies a river of passion. Come drown with me, beloved! Be one with me
.”

He stood, his face bright with hope. “Delphi…do you know what you are saying?”

How could he look at her and not know? Delphi swept the remaining china aside with a magnificent sweep of her arm. “
Come, my love! Let us lie among the gentle breezes and part the waves with our passion
.” Without a thought, she lay on the table, rolled to her side, and held her arms out toward him.

Silence filled the room, broken only by her own fast breathing. The table was cool and hard beneath her, and one of her shoulders seemed to have landed on a plate. But Delphi ignored it all. She held out her arms and waited.

Henri cleared his throat. “I…ah, Delphi?”

His tentative voice sent her confidence crashing to the ground. What was she doing?
Oh, God, I am such a fool. He doesn't want me, and here I lie…
She'd allowed her passion to overcome her judgment, and she had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Face burning, Delphi pushed herself from the table and stood. “Oh, dear,” she said, her face so hot she wondered that it didn't burst into flames.

She couldn't bear to look at Henri, couldn't bear to see his embarrassment. Her whole body seemed to shrink in humiliation and a tear gathered in her eye, quickly followed by another.

“Ah, my sweet Delphinea,” Henri said. “You have butter.”

She had…what? She looked at him.

He gestured to her shoulder. “You've butter on your dress.”

She glanced down where a smear of butter marred the white muslin. Suddenly the tears could not be contained. She'd made the most wretched fool of herself, and Henri would never want to speak with her again. She turned and ran for the door.

“
No
.”

She froze in place, her hand on the knob.

“You love me.” He said it in a voice of wonder, as if he couldn't believe his fortune.

Breathless hope held her in its grip. “Yes,” she managed to whisper.

“My sweet, shy Delphi,” he said, his voice closer. His fingers slipped along the edge of her collar. “You have utterly ruined your dress. I'm afraid it must come off.”

She turned slowly to face him. “You want me to take off my dress,” she repeated stupidly.

“More than anything in the world.” He pulled a jeweled pin from her hair and tossed it aside.

Her hair falling about her face, Delphi now swiftly tugged at her laces. With the comte's help, her dress was soon removed. He kissed each bit of her skin as it was exposed, making her a mass of tingles.

Before Delphi knew what had happened, he carried her to the table and set her on the edge. She wrapped her arms and legs about him and kissed him deeply. It was as if a well of passion had suddenly burst forth, and Delphi could not contain it.

He moaned against her mouth, then placed his foot on a chair and joined her on the table, struggling to undo his breeches as he did so.

Crack
. Henri froze.
Crack. Crack
. The table shook and then, with a final creak, collapsed onto the floor. Spoons and forks clattered, dishes bounced into the air, and chairs went toppling.

The door to the breakfast room flew open and Anthony stood in the doorway, Anna peering over his shoulder. Shock and disbelief warred on their faces. From where she lay amid the china and splintered wood, Delphi buried her face in Henri's neck and burst into laughter.

I
t began with a letter. Addressed to Lady Bridgeton in a strong, simple script, it arrived shortly before breakfast the next morning.

Sara's heart pounded on seeing the footman's livery, recognizing him as one of Wiggs's underlings. For one mad moment, she stared at the missive, the vellum crisp beneath her fingers, and wondered if she should open it. But her good sense returned. There was nothing more to say. Nick had lied to her and left her alone, just like Julius.

She was weary and stretched, too tired to deal with such painful emotions. It was strange, but she could not remember ever feeling this way about Julius. But then that was because she didn't love him like—
She caught the thought before she could finish it. Love was the last thing she should feel for Nicholas Montrose. She handed the letter back to the footman and ordered him to return it to Hibberton Hall, unanswered and unopened.

Nick arrived shortly afterward. Sara had been on her way to her room when she heard his voice in the front hall. Reacting instinctively, she'd crouched on the landing, peeking over the banister. His face set in determined lines and looking devastatingly handsome, he listened impatiently to the butler's explanation that no one was home before saying in a loud voice, “Inform Lady Bridgeton that I will return.” With that, he'd replaced his hat and left.

Sara had closed her eyes and inhaled to see if the scent of his cologne lingered in the foyer. If she sat still enough, she thought she could detect just a trace. Finally, she'd shaken herself off and retired to her room.

An hour later, she heard a solid knock on the front door. She tiptoed down the hallway and peeked down the stairs. The footman from Hibberton Hall had returned, this time with an armful of flowers. The arrangement was so large that it barely fit through the door, the exotic scent filling the entire house. Sara stared at the flowers, aware of a strange well of disappointment. She waited until the footman had left before she raced down the steps, gathered the flowers from the astounded butler, marched into the street, and threw the entire arrangement in front of the carriage. The shocked footman watched as the wind had lifted the flowers and scattered them
far and wide, a white note fluttering free and tumbling down the street. Dusting her hands, Sara returned to the house, slamming the door behind her.

But the image of that note stayed with her, and she began to envision what words it had held. Was it a letter of abject apology? An impassioned plea for forgiveness? Sara couldn't see Nick writing such things, but still…she almost wished she'd read it.

To ease her mind, she went in search of Aunt Delphi. She found her aunt sitting in the breakfast room, tracing her hands over the rosewood table. Sara frowned. “Is it still broken?”

Just yesterday, the table had inexplicably collapsed, shattering some of their good china. Sara had been in her room, having fled there after Nick had left, and she hadn't seen the wreckage, though Anna later assured her it had been spectacular.

“The table is just fine,” Delphi said in a repressive voice. “You can't even tell it's been fixed.”

“I wish hearts were as easily repaired.”

Delphi patted her hand. “Give yourself some time, dear. You'll feel better soon. I'm sure of it.”

Sara wasn't so sure but she kept silent, merely suggesting they keep busy by visiting the lending library. Once there, deciding to stay away from anything having to do with love or romance, Sara selected two very worthy tomes on horticulture. It wasn't until later, as they rode in the carriage back to Delphi's house, and she caught herself studying the medicinal properties of various herbs, that Sara realized she was still thinking about Nick.

Disgusted with herself, she tucked the books
away and decided not to read them. She entered the foyer still feeling out of sorts, and discovered a small box on the table in the front hall. She knew immediately that it had come from Nick, and had the footman who delivered it still been there, she would have sent it home without further ado. But he'd already left, probably rejoicing that he'd managed to deliver at least one item successfully.

Frowning, Sara left the box on the table in the hall for return on the next day, glancing at it whenever she happened to see it. When Anna arrived that evening she exclaimed over the gift, wondering aloud at the possible contents and finally carrying it into the sitting room, where it sat in solitary splendor on a side table. As the evening progressed, it seemed to Sara that the box was as alone as she. She found herself moving it to one side while looking for Aunt Delphi's missing thread, tapping a finger on its smooth side while listening to Anthony and Anna bicker, or just holding it in her hand and staring at it.

Finally, while turning the pages of her book, Sara accidentally knocked it to the floor.

Anna looked up from her book by the reformer, Mary Wollstonescraft. She gazed at the fallen box with a considering frown, finally saying, “I suppose you will have to pick it up.”

Sara thought she detected just a hint of sarcasm in Anna's voice, but she wasn't certain. “Perhaps I should just leave it.”

Anna raised her brows, but made no comment. Moments dangled by during which Sara tried valiantly not to look at the box.

“Perhaps,” Anna said into the silence, “
I
should pick it up. Just in case it falls open.”

“That would be best,” Sara agreed, her heart racing a little at the thought.

Anna wasted no time in scooping up the box and, just as she predicted, the top fell off. She stood gazing into the box, a dazed expression on her face.

“What is it?” Sara demanded impatiently.

Eyes wide, Anna held the box toward Sara. There, reclining on a bed of red velvet, sat a large square-cut ruby ring with an intricately carved gold band. The gem winked up at her, blinding in its brilliance. Set with diamonds, it made the Lawrence sapphires pale in comparison.

“Fudge,” Sara said. “I have to give that back.”

“Nonsense. It's the least that bounder can do for you—plaster you with jewelry and beg for forgiveness. I like that in a man.” Anna shot a hard look at Anthony, who was too immersed in the newspaper to notice.

Sara took the box from Anna and replaced the lid, setting it back on the table. “You know why I have to give it back.” She resolutely returned to her book. What was Nick thinking, to send her such a thing? What was he trying to prove?

“There is a note with it,” Anna said. “Perhaps you could just return the note and keep the ring.”

“No,” Sara said firmly. “It all goes back—the note
and
the ring.”

“That's not a very practical way of doing things.” Sighing heavily, Anna returned to her book, though her gaze drifted to the box as frequently as Sara's.

Later, after Anna left, Sara found herself looking at the ring again—just to admire it. She even took it upstairs so that she could try it on away from Anthony's prying eyes. It was a perfect fit. The ruby looked especially lovely on her hand, the deep red mesmerizing against her white skin. It was a truly lovely gift, and one that showed how well Nick knew her taste.

That night, she slept with the ring tucked beneath her pillow. The next morning, collecting every bit of her determination, Sara put the ring back in the box and ordered that it be returned to Hibberton Hall. She stood in the window of the sitting room and watched the footman carry it away, feeling a strange urge to cry.

So it went for two more days. Nick visited often and always the butler turned him away. And when Nick wasn't present, a steady flow of gifts and flowers flooded the house. It was, Sara decided as she stared down at a gorgeous ruby necklace, enough to drive a woman mad. Yet somehow, it still wasn't enough.

Delphi bustled into the room, a shawl of Indian silk fluttering about her. “I will never speak to Lady Merton again.”

Sara replaced the necklace in the box. “Lady Merton? But you've known her forever.”

“Apparently Ophelia has forgotten that fact.” Delphi settled onto the edge of the settee, her lip quivering. “She had the audacity to try and hint me away from Henri.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She says that he is no more a comte than I. In fact, she is telling everyone that he is an imposter and that he has made a fool of me.”

Sara looked down at the ruby necklace and shut the box with a sigh. “Does it matter what she thinks?”

Delphi toyed with the fringe on her shawl, her face folded with worry. “I daresay he has no income whatsoever.”

“Most likely.”

Delphi's lip quivered again. “And no prospects, either.”

“Probably not.”

“And he's a full eight months younger than I.” There was a hint of a wail to her voice.

“No one would ever credit it. You don't look a day over forty.”

Delphi brightened. “Do you think so?” At Sara's nod, Delphi sighed. “I don't know why I let that man affect me so.”

“Sometimes we don't have a choice in who affects us,” Sara said softly. “It just happens.” And sometimes there was no way to stop it from happening, even when you knew it would lead to heartache.

Delphi took her niece's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “No, we don't. But life comes to visit but once, and only a fool would have the door locked and bolted. I fear I have kept the doors to my heart locked for so long that they have rusted closed.”

“Aunt Delphi, you are being too harsh on yourself.”

“No, I'm not. I instinctively retreat from that
which has the power to hurt.” She stared down at the floor for a moment with a frown. “And it hurts to be in love. Doesn't it?”

Yes, it did. But not always. Sara could remember a time when just the feel of Nick's warm hand on hers made her heart leap with joy. Damn it, why did life have to be so complicated? She stirred restlessly, suddenly assailed with the desire to escape her cares. “Do you know what we need?”

Delphi shook her head.

“A complete change of scenery. Why don't we go on a tour of the North Country, just you and I? We'll have a delightful time.”

“I don't know. I promised your cousin Althea that I'd come and stay with her while—”

“Althea has two sisters who are perfectly capable of assisting her. We can leave next week. It would do us both good to get away from Bath.” Maybe the time away would clear her head.

“I suppose you are right,” Delphi said thoughtfully. “And if we stay gone long enough, certain people just might miss us.”

That was a thought. Sara's heart suddenly lightened. At least she would be doing
something
. “We'll pack this very evening and leave in the morning.”

“Yes, dear.” Delphi stood and began digging in her reticule. “That reminds me, Anthony caught me in the hallway and he wished me to give you—ah, here it is!” She pulled out a small square of white paper and placed it in Sara's hand.

“What is it?”

“He didn't say. I wonder if I should pack my new pelisse?” Giving Sara a quick smile, Delphi floated off, her mind already busily engaged in their new plans.

Sara looked at the folded vellum and recognized Nick's writing. Her first impulse was to toss the note into the fire, but Delphi's words stayed with her. What was she afraid of? It was just a letter, and she didn't have to finish reading it if she didn't like what it said.

Setting her shoulders, she opened the missive. She didn't know what she expected—poetry or an eloquent plea of forgiveness, perhaps. But only five words adorned the thick vellum.

“I will always love you.”

And she would always love him. Tears clogged Sara's throat, and the great ache of loneliness broke free. He'd made a mistake so great that it had ripped the delicate fabric of their relationship, leaving her unsure if she could ever find it in her to forgive him. And had he been truly involved with Lucilla, there would be no possibilities, no forgiveness. Sara would never again be a betrayed wife.

But neither would she accept being treated as less than an equal partner. Delphi was right—doors could be closed so long that they rusted shut. Like the doors to Nick's heart. And maybe the doors to her own, as well.

Sara placed a hand over her stomach, where the small life grew. It was time she moved on with her life, whether she was ready or not. The only question that remained was, would she move toward Nick, or away?