The Ugly Duckling Debutante_FINAL-3 (6 page)

She started again, “So, you do not want children?”

Something flashed across his face before he looked away and answered, “Every man wants an heir.” He pushed a thick lock of chocolate hair away from his brow and smiled deeply. Sara felt heat burn to her cheeks. His eyes were crystal blue, one could almost see through them, if that were possible. It was a stark contrast to his dark brown, hair making it almost hypnotic to gaze in his direction. How did people do it? How did people act normal around this man? How was she supposed to act normal around someone so purely male? He was to escort her to her first
ton
event, the only chance she has to win her family’s approval and secure their future, but she couldn’t remember a blessed thing her aunt had taught her. The only thing her brain could focus on was his hair brushing along the crisp white cravat. Surprising how Lord Renwick openly mocked society with his untamable long hair. An unsuspecting jealousy arose, her hands itching to feel the silky chocolate locks between her fingers that blatantly taunted her.

He seemed to notice her break in concentration and came to sit beside her on the couch; she scooted to the side, so their thighs would not touch. “I’ll be with you every step of the way on Friday. It really is painless, I promise you that. They’ll poke at you, prod you, make you turn circles, make you dance with dukes twice your age, and when the night is done, I’ll escort you home and feed you chocolate.”

Laughter bubbled out of her before she had time to stop it. She put two fingers over her lips and sighed, “Wise choice with the chocolate, my lord.”

He swallowed slowly as he leaned forward; she knew that it was wrong, but like a magnet she drew in toward him as well. How brave and improper he was! He reminded her of the dangerous men in the books she read; however, her body was not responding with stirrings of alarm, only cravings.

His warm breath blew across her face paralyzing her where she sat. “Lesson number one; never let a man get this close to you.” Not knowing which direction to look, she cast her eyes downward. The space between them was non-existent, slowly her eyes rose to meet his just in time to see him lick his lips and draw even closer. Shivers ran down her spine as he brushed his hand across her cheek tilting her head to the side as if waiting for her permission. Yes, her body screamed, for what, she didn’t know. All she knew was that with his warm hand cupping her face, all logical thought flew out the window. His smile turned seductive as he grazed her lip with his one finger then chuckled and pulled back.

Words wouldn’t come, so she merely nodded her head and allowed the usual blush to creep up to her cheeks. “I understand.”

“No,” he said drawing back and straightening his cravat. “I don’t believe you do.” The room suddenly turned chilly.

Was he angry? Now he paced in front of her. “Men of the
ton
do not care what you look like, nor the station of life you come from. They want only one thing when they see a woman walk into the room. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”

She couldn’t even nod her head. What had she done? It was as if he was a different man—cold, unresponsive and angry, but she couldn’t tell if he was angry at her or himself.

His back was facing her, she heard him mumble something resembling a swear word in French. He turned back to face her and approached her yet again on the couch. All his walking made her dizzy. “Sai, you can’t allow a man to get you alone or to get near you at the ball. There will be no going down dark hallways, no looking at the gardens or the stars. None of it. Do you understand?”

Of course she understood. His regret about the previous night—their rendezvous in the hallway—weighed on him. He was just sparing her feelings by not mentioning the specifics. It was his way of saying it was a mistake.
She
was a mistake. And he didn’t want any of his gentlemen friends to find themselves trapped with someone as hideous as she.

“The last thing you want is to be compromised by someone you do not wish to marry, or worse, someone who does not wish to marry you.”

She licked her lips and forced a smile. “I understand, my lord. Believe me when I say, I have lived with the reality that no man would want me for a wife for a long time. So please know, I also understand no man in his right mind would want to lead me away from a group of people just so he could compromise me. I thank you for forthrightness.”

His face paled as he mumbled yet another word under his breath. “I must admit I’m at a loss, Sai. Who ever told you these things?”

What was he getting at? Did he wish to further humiliate her by bringing to her attention, yet again, how utterly disgusting her face was? Or how men would wish to compromise her only to humiliate her? She bit her lip and looked at his cold blue eyes. “Everyone I’ve ever known.”

His eyes widened as if the information somehow shocked him, but before he could prod further they were interrupted by Aunt Tilda, followed by the tea.

“How are things progressing?” Her aunt clasped her hands and smiled. “I do hope Lord Renwick has taught you some useful information?”

“Indeed,” Sara muttered.

Lord Renwick was still mute, leaving her to believe she had made her point and put him in his place. He deserved to be there. No stranger had the right to tell her what she could and could not do; surely he didn’t think she would take it well that he also thought her plain and ugly. To even joke about a man taking her into a darkened hall was enough to make her want to cry. If only for the reason that she dreamed of such passion since she was a little girl—not that she would do anything to cause her parents embarrassment, but what would it be like to be escorted to the gardens at night, or to be caught in a stolen embrace in a dark hallway?

Last night her fantasies
came
alive. Now it felt like the dream was shattering before her eyes. Wasn’t the prince supposed to be madly in love with the princess? The storybooks never spoke of the prince apologizing to the princess for embarrassing her.

Her daydreaming soon took over; she
did
n’t even notice the room darken
ing
.

“I must take my leave.” Lord Renwick rose from the couch and bowed to her aunt. “Lady Fenton, it was a pleasure. I look forward to Friday.” He turned toward Sara and smiled, whatever had passed between them was obviously gone. “Sai, thank you for the lovely time. Please be ready for my carriage at six o’clock on Friday.” He brushed his lips across her gloved hand but didn’t release her hand until he squeezed it a little too long and hard. She meant to pull back, but just like before she felt clumsy and frozen in his presence. He left the house quickly as if to escape.

“Most peculiar,” her aunt mused, sipping her tea.

“What is?” Sara asked.

“Lord Renwick,” Lady Fenton answered.

“I don’t understand your meaning, my lady,” Sara countered.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just…” She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t believe I have ever seen him behave in such a scatter-brained manner. He seemed positively unhinged.”

Sara grunted in a very unladylike manner before she answered, “If that’s Lord Renwick unhinged, I would hate to be on the receiving end when he was…hinged.”

Aunt Tilda laughed. “Don’t hold your breath, my gel. Women still flock in droves just to get a glimpse of his face. When he is—how would you put it—hinged, he is one of the most persuasive men in the country. Even more so than the Prince Regent himself.”

Chapter Five

Entering his carriage, a
stream of swear words escaped from Nicholas’s mouth. “My lord?” his footman asked curiously
before closing
the door to the carriage.

“Drive,” he ordered through clenched teeth. What he needed was brandy and lots of it—not that it would help push away the memory of Sai’s face, but it would at least numb him for a few hours. He knocked on the door and yelled for the footman to stop at White’s.

By the time they wove through the other carriages, Nicholas had calmed down. “Never mind, just home.”

The carriage took a quick turn through the park and headed toward Renwick House.
B
y the time he reached his street
, his head was pounding
. He wanted to stab something with his sword just so he could release some of the aggression he felt. Normally when he went through this type of emotional turmoil, he would summon one of his highly paid courtesans to…make a friendly visit, but since his reformation he settled for tea and his Bible, even though nothing would make him happier now than letting out some of the aggression he had sworn for two years to keep in.

What was wrong with him? And why had he upset Sai? He thought he had been playing the role of protector; instead she thought him insulting and making fun of her. Was she fishing for compliments like every other female he knew? Or was she really under the impression she was not beautiful?

How could she not see it? Her own reflection? Did she not own a mirror? Preposterous. Lady Fenton herself told him she was devastating. Why on earth would Sai believe otherwise? He picked up his Bible and sighed. She really was like every other woman—taking offense just because she could, and fishing for compliments because he would be the one giving them.

Curse all females
, he thought as he blindly sent his teacup shattering against the wall. He was acting like a spoiled child, but he didn’t care. Sai was everything he swore he would never give into again. She was beautiful, smart, and—unfortunately for him—also a master of manipulative arts. Impossible that she didn’t know the effect she had on people. That would be like saying
he
didn’t know the effect he had on people. If the Prince Regent himself commissioned Nicholas to woo royalty, he knew he could pull it off without a hitch—and probably secure enough gold to feed a small nation.

Nicholas rested his head against the chair. He liked his life. It was simple. He was rich. He gave to charity, not to mention totally reformed of his old ways. He didn’t deserve a maiden, and he didn’t want a seductress like Sai. What he really wanted… no, what he
needed
was to live in the country away from temptation.

He sat up quickly. The answer was so simple. After he escorted Sai to a few more balls he would be free to leave. He would go to the country, perhaps retire for a while, maybe find a country woman who would want to marry him and give him children. Someone away from the influence of the
ton
. He had lived enough years within their deadly grasp; why not move to the countryside? Where did Lady Fenton say she had family? It was somewhere in the countryside—maybe she had a distant niece he could marry, someone who understood life.

He smiled for the first time in an hour as he thought of his new country bride. Naturally he would wait until after he had the feather. That would mean he would need to court in secret, but affairs of the country were never discussed during the season. Granted, it wasn’t that he technically wanted to take a bride, but it was the next sort of step for a man like him to make. He didn’t want to marry but it was his God given duty to produce an heir and be able to carry on his family line even if he was set against it. A quiet country mouse was just what he needed. Especially if that country mouse took his thoughts away from the siren he was having to spend every waking moment with.

He would have the feather, an innocent untitled bride, and freedom from his lustful desires. All he needed now was to make sure Sai took in the
ton
. Hopefully she would set her cap on someone straight away, so he could be free to leave her side. He was no protector of virtue and didn’t know how long hers would stay intact with him constantly watching her. As it was, he felt like he undressed her with his eyes merely by smiling at her. He shook the thought out of his head and pulled the cord in his study. There wasn’t enough tea in the world to get ride of the stirring of feelings he felt at the moment.

****