Читать книгу Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion - Энни Берроуз, Louise Allen - Страница 57

Chapter Nine

‘Monsieur Dupree is so funny,’ Francesca said as they picked roses for the house that morning, clipping the long stems and taking care not to prick themselves as they placed the buds carefully in their baskets. ‘But he’s sweet, too—and he likes you so much, Sarah.’

‘I agree that he is charming. I hope you are not infatuated, dearest?’

Francesca laughed delightedly. ‘Oh, he doesn’t want to seduce me. Andre has far too much sense. He knows that he must make his living and any such nonsense would result in his being dismissed without a reference. He might never work again. No, you are the one he wants to seduce, Sarah. He says you are a rose without compare.’

‘Well, he is French,’ Sarah said and her friend went into another peal of laughter. ‘Besides, I told you. I need a widower—a nice sensible English gentleman who will take care of my business.’

‘I still cannot believe how rich you are,’ Francesca said and inhaled the perfume of a dark red rose. ‘It is such a romantic story—you coming here to escape a persistent fortune hunter. I was so lucky that you changed places with Miss Goodrum. If you hadn’t, we might never have met.’

‘I should have regretted that,’ Sarah said and looked at her with affection, feeling glad she had decided to confide her whole story in the girl. ‘I think these past weeks have been some of the happiest of my life.’

The one thing to mar her content was the way she felt about Lord Myers. A part of her wanted to give in to the need he aroused in her, but she knew that she would be a fool to give her body—and perhaps her heart—to a rake.

‘Do you think we have enough roses?’

‘Yes, quite enough, because it’s nice to have fresh ones often. Shall we go and arrange them...?’ She paused as they turned the corner to the front of the house. ‘It seems we have visitors....’ Two gentlemen had just dismounted and grooms were leading their horses away.

‘I wonder who it can be?’ Francesca said and her eyes sparkled. They had received visits from most of their neighbours in the past week and Francesca was enjoying herself, because several gentlemen had been paying her compliments. ‘Oh, I do believe it is Mr Monks.’

Sarah smothered a sigh, because Francesca looked so pleased. The young man had visited three times already and seemed intent on fixing his interest with Francesca, though as yet Sarah was not sure how she felt.

‘There’s someone with him...I think it’s Sir Roger. He must have come down for a visit.’

Sarah’s throat caught as she looked at the second gentleman and knew him. It was the very man she’d come here to avoid. Could he know she was here or was it a coincidence?

The gentlemen had become aware of them and turned to wait for them to reach the steps leading up to the portico. James Monks had eyes only for Francesca, but Sir Roger was staring at Sarah, his gaze narrowed and intent. Sarah felt certain he’d known she was here all the time.

‘Ah, Miss Hardcastle, Miss Francesca,’ James Monks said and bowed. ‘I was sure you would not mind my bringing Sir Roger with me? He was most anxious to present himself when he knew you were staying with the Merrivale family, Miss Hardcastle.’

‘Mr Monks...Sir Roger.’ Sarah gave both gentlemen an equally cool nod. She had not told Francesca the name of her persistent admirer and so the girl was completely unaware as she greeted their guests with a warm smile and invited them to stay to nuncheon.

‘Will you not come in, Sir Roger—James? You must stay to eat with us. It will be a simple meal, but we shall be happy to share it with you, shall we not, Sarah?’

Sarah could only agree to Francesca’s request, though her stomach was tying itself in knots as Sir Roger inclined his head, his gaze narrowed and wary.

‘Miss Hardcastle—Sarah, how pleasant to see you again, and you, Miss Francesca.’

‘I trust you are well, sir?’

‘Not as well as I might have been had a certain person smiled on me more,’ Sir Roger said in a low voice as the others went ahead into the house. ‘Forgive me if this visit makes you uncomfortable. Should I go away at once? Or may I hope that you will allow me to renew my offer? I know the ladies like to change their minds.’

‘Not this one,’ Sarah said and gave him a straight look. ‘Forgive me, sir, but I shall be blunt. I do not wish for another offer from you and my answer remains the same.’

‘You are hard, Sarah. My feelings have been hurt by your coldness. I find it difficult to enjoy life as I was wont to do—I must languish in your shadow since you will have none of me.’

Sarah felt a rising impatience. How many times must she tell this man that she had no interest in becoming his wife? If she had been at home, she might have been rude, but she was a guest here and could not insult Francesca’s guest. The girl had invited him to eat with them and Sarah would simply have to endure his company as best she could.

‘If we are to remain friends, sir, I would ask you not to flatter me with insincere compliments.’

‘Surely you do not accuse me of insincerity?’ Sir Roger looked indignant and for a moment she saw anger in his eyes, which was quickly hidden behind a false smile. ‘I assure you, my feelings have always been completely sincere.’

Sarah refused to answer. It was impossible when he seemed determined to ignore her refusal. All she could do was to remain cool and indifferent, to hope that he would eventually tire of being rebuffed.

* * *

John was in the front parlour with the dancing master. They had taken a book of plays from the library and Monsieur Dupree was declaiming aloud from one of Shakespeare’s works as they entered, which made Sarah smile inwardly as the words sounded very different in a French accent.

‘I must give these roses to one of the maids to put in water,’ she said, excusing herself. ‘I shall return in a moment.’

She wished that she might take the time to arrange the flowers herself, but she could not leave Francesca to cope with the visitors alone and returned quickly, to find them all laughing and discussing the book of plays. Apparently, the gentlemen fancied themselves as actors and it seemed they were amusing Francesca by vying for her attention.

‘We should put on a play in the gardens,’ Francesca said. ‘We could all act out parts and entertain our neighbours.’

‘What a wonderful idea,’ James Monks said and sent her a look of foppish adoration. ‘You would be adorable as the fairy queen, Francesca.’

‘Are you reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream?’ Sarah asked. ‘It is one of my favourites—so amusing. I like it when she falls in love with Bottom...’

‘You must play the queen,’ Francesca urged. ‘I should not like to take the leading part, but will take on the role of one of her attendants.’

‘I shall be Bottom,’ Sir Roger said. ‘’Tis vastly amusing, I vow.’

‘No, no, I could not. Besides, the play is far too long and we should never learn all the words.’

‘We could play just the scene where Titania awakes to find herself bewitched,’ Francesca said. ‘I think it is so funny because she loves Bottom despite the fact that he has been turned into a donkey.’

‘Mais non, it is a tragedy,’ Monsieur Dupree objected. ‘The pauvre lady is bewitched as a punishment by her so-cruel husband.’

His words were greeted by heated exchanges and the next few minutes passed pleasantly enough, as all the aspects of the play were discussed and analysed. Sarah was pleased to see that Francesca held her own, having read the play with her, and relieved that by the time they had all been called to nuncheon and eaten their meal in a spirit of festivity, the idea of actually performing the play had been forgotten.

* * *

By the time the gentlemen took their leave, Sarah had relaxed sufficiently to forget to be on her guard and it was something of a shock when Sir Roger held her hand too long and then raised it to his lips.

‘I shall visit you again soon, Sarah.’

‘Francesca is always pleased to see her guests.’

The look he gave her was supposed to be ardent, but to Sarah it merely seemed menacing. Even if Monsieur Dupree liked her for herself, she was convinced that Sir Roger wanted something from her.

She shivered and wished that Lord Myers was here rather than on what might prove a wild goose chase. If Sir Roger wanted the mills, she believed that he might be willing to hire a rogue to either frighten her into signing or...might he actually want her dead?

If Sarah were dead, her uncle would sell to the highest bidder.

She was relieved when both gentlemen turned away and she returned to the house. About to go in search of Francesca, who had gone to look for a book she wanted, Sarah was surprised when Monsieur Dupree waylaid her in the hall.

‘A moment of your time, non?’

‘Was there something I can do for you, monsieur?’

‘It is I who may perhaps do something for you,

mademoiselle.’ The Frenchman’s dark eyes dwelled on her face with something like adoration. ‘I think you did not like the so-charming Sir Roger? He distresses you, non?’

‘I would not say I was distressed, monsieur—merely wary. I should not like to be left alone with that gentleman.’

‘No, of a certainty,’ he replied and made a face of disgust. ‘If the so-charming Sir Roger attempts to force his attentions on you, Mademoiselle Sarah, you may call on Andre Dupree. With the pistol I am—how you say?—a dead shot.’ He made a shooting motion. ‘I will kill him if he harms you.’

Sarah resisted the temptation to laugh, because, looking at his expression, she could see that he was in earnest.

‘You are very kind to offer your protection, monsieur—but I hardly think we need come to such measures. Sir Roger is a nuisance, but I think I am able to fend off his advances.’

‘If he harms you, he will answer to me.’ Andre took a step towards her, quite clearly intending to make his devotion to Sarah’s cause even plainer, but before he could speak the knocker sounded and in the next moment the footman had opened the door to Lord Myers.

‘You are back, my lord.’ Sarah turned to him, a smile of welcome on her lips. She felt relief surge within her and something more. How much she wished she could run to his arms and give him a welcome-home kiss.

‘Yes, Sarah, I have returned.’ Rupert’s brows arched. ‘Have I been missed?’

‘You must always be missed—’ Sarah would have said more, but at that moment John came flying into the hall and threw himself at Rupert, giving him an exuberant hug. ‘I saw you from the window. You’ve been gone such an age.’

‘Nine days, I think.’ Rupert laughed and disentangled himself. ‘Steady on, old chap. Surely things are not so bad?’

‘Oh, I’ve had loads of lessons and I like being with Fran, Sarah and Monsieur Dupree—but no one is like you. I’ve missed my fencing lessons.’

‘Well, you shall have one tomorrow,’ Rupert promised. ‘I might have a gift for you in my trunk—but if you continue to ruin my coat I shall consider whether to give it to you.’

‘You wouldn’t.’ John saw he was smiling and laughed, but stood back. ‘I’ll keep you to your word about the fencing.’ He turned to the dancing master. ‘Will you give me another French lesson, monsieur? It sounds so much better when you speak the language.’

‘Oui, mon petit,’ the Frenchman said. ‘Come, we shall go to the library and find a book of French plays.’

Rupert glanced at Sarah. ‘I see our dancing master has many talents. I think he has relieved me of some of my duties.’

‘But not all. John is willing to accept a substitute when you are not here, but of course we all miss you. Francesca was only asking this morning when you would return.’

‘Your affairs took me a little longer than I had anticipated, but I am able to set your mind at rest concerning Mr Arkwright. It was not he that made you an offer. He has bought more mills and now has all he requires.’

‘So it was not he that made it? You are certain?’

‘Oh, I think you may be sure of it. He was reluctant to speak to me at first, but I persuaded him to my way of thinking. I made it clear that you have placed your affairs in my hands and that—should anything untoward happen to you—your estate would be subject to many trusts and clauses that would make it difficult to buy. He told me in no uncertain terms that he could not give a brass monkey’s...’

‘Then I may forget him. How good of you to take so much trouble over my affairs,’ Sarah said. ‘I am not sure how I may thank you.’

‘Do not trouble yourself over it. If I needed a reward, I would ask.’ His gaze intensified. ‘You still look troubled—has something happened while I was gone?’

‘Sir Roger visited in the company of James Monks this morning. He seems to imagine that if he persists in his pursuit it is only a matter of time before I cave in.’

‘I shall speak to the man—and, if need be, give him a thrashing.’

‘No, you must not. If I am unable to make him see I shall never give into his blandishments, I might ask you to warn him—but no violence.’ Sarah smiled. ‘Monsieur Dupree has already offered to shoot him for me if he attempts to seduce me.’

‘Indeed? And what business is it of his? You are not considering him as a husband, I hope?’

‘No, of course not. He is a pleasant young man—but perhaps a little young for me. Not much more than two and twenty I would imagine.’

‘And you are so long in the tooth, of course—four and twenty? Five and twenty?’

‘I was five and twenty on my last birthday,’ Sarah replied, a little smile on her lips. Her pulses raced and she felt a surge of joy. Oh, she had missed this banter so much. It was wonderful to have him home, even if his expression was already a little stormy. ‘No, I dare say I am no great age—but some people think a woman is on the shelf if she is much past twenty.’

‘Stuff and nonsense,’ Rupert said. ‘Young girls can be delightful, of course, but I prefer a woman of sense.’

Sarah glanced away quickly. The heat in his eyes suggested he wished to take up where they had left off the night before he went away. She was torn by a swift violent longing, a burning desire to be in his arms and to know the sweetness of his kisses. Sarah was ready to become a woman in his arms, to learn why her body sang every time he was near. How they had haunted her dreams since his departure.

She knew she must tell him of her suspicions concerning Sir Roger, but now was not the time. All she could think of for the moment was the look in his eyes and what his lips would taste of if they touched hers.

‘You must excuse me,’ Rupert said. ‘I am stained from the journey. I must change and then speak to my uncle’s agent before tea. I shall leave you to continue with whatever pleasures you have planned for this afternoon.’

‘I think we may take a turn round the gardens as it is so warm. I shall take a book of plays, which Francesca has gone to fetch...and here she is now. I am sure she will be so pleased to see you.’

‘Rupert... It is so good to have you home,’ she said and then blushed. ‘We’ve missed you, haven’t we, Sarah?’ Sarah nodded, noticing the blush and slight hesitancy. John had rushed to embrace his mentor, but Francesca merely dipped a little curtsy and smiled. She was growing up, Sarah thought.

‘You look well, Francesca,’ Rupert said, going to greet her. He leaned forwards and kissed her cheek. ‘I am pleased to tell you that I have invited some friends for this weekend. I believe you will find companions that will bring excitement and pleasure to your life. I have a gift for you, as well as John—I will give it to you this evening. Now, if you will both excuse me...’

Rupert glanced at Sarah before walking away. She was confused by the signal he was giving her. Before he left he had shown her plainly that he meant to keep his distance, but now...having seen her home and realised that she was not a lady despite her education and wealth...did he now feel it was permissible to seduce her?

What could he be thinking of? It was quite out of the question, even if her body did clamour for his and her nights were disturbed by the feverish longings he’d aroused in her.

She could not but think that he was a dangerous flirt, a rake who could not help exercising his powerful charm on the ladies, even if he were not serious about pursuing them.

A part of her mind told Sarah that he was no such thing—that he was decent and honest and misunderstood—but she knew that he had had several mistresses, because Mrs Brancaster had warned her of the fact.

She had visited the housekeeper in her parlour one afternoon, taking a dish of tea with her when Francesca had been practising at the pianoforte. Mrs Brancaster had given her a particular look and she wondered if the staff had noticed something about Rupert’s manner towards her. They must think it odd that she continued in the house since she was not a governess and no longer in the marquess’s employ.

‘Such a pleasant gentleman,’ the housekeeper had said as she passed a cup. ‘Good-looking and in possession of a handsome fortune, so they say—but it will be a clever woman that catches that particular fish. I’ve heard he’s broken a score of hearts in his time.’

‘Well, I dare say he’s like most gentlemen,’ Sarah said, outwardly calm. ‘He has enjoyed being single and may settle once he’s married. Do they not say that reformed rakes make the best husbands?’

‘I’ve heard it said, miss,’ Mrs Brancaster said, pursing her lips. ‘But as I said, it will take a clever mind to trap that one—and he would never marry out of his class. His family is very proud. I suppose if he were desperate for money—but from what I hear of it, he has done very well for himself since he left the army.’

‘I expect he will fall in love one day, Mrs Brancaster. Who knows—perhaps he has done so already.’

‘He’s more likely to marry for property and rank than love,’ the housekeeper said darkly. ‘You mark my words, his sort always do.’

Sarah had not argued, for her mind told her it was the truth—though sometimes her heart whispered a completely different story.

* * *

Sarah was surprised when she went up to her room and discovered that her trunk had been taken up without her being aware of it. She’d sent most of her things home in this trunk, but when she opened it, she discovered that it had been repacked, probably by her maid. Indeed, she found a short note from Tilly, asking if she should join her mistress at Cavendish Park.

Sarah considered and then decided against it. Francesca was aware of her true standing, but she had not told the housekeeper or the maids that she was an heiress, only that she had come here to escape from an importunate suitor, and thought it best to keep things as they were. After the trip to London, she would never return here and no one need know about her masquerade.

Looking at some of the gowns that Tilly had packed for her, Sarah was tempted by one in particular. It was a yellow silk that she’d never worn. She hadn’t taken it with her on her business journey, but it was lovely and would look very well for an informal evening. However, since Rupert had invited guests to stay she would save it for a special occasion.

Sarah’s own gowns were all simply cut, but the quality lay in the fit and the material. Most of them were far too elegant for a governess and would occasion comment if she were to wear them here.

When they left for London, she would send for her maid to join her and ask for some of her best evening gowns to be sent to her—though it was the chance of a lifetime to buy herself a new wardrobe. Most of her gowns had been made in Newcastle, by a wonderful French seamstress, who had somehow found herself in the northern city and established her business there. However, it would be pleasant to have a new stylish wardrobe made in London.

She dressed for the evening in her usual gown and was just putting the finishing touches to her toilette when someone knocked at the door. With one last glance in the mirror, she went to answer it, feeling a shock as she saw it was Rupert.

‘Forgive me, I wanted to give you this in private,’ he said and handed her a parcel. ‘I’ve brought gifts for Francesca and John, which I shall give them before dinner—but I wanted you to have yours first.’

‘A gift for me?’ Sarah was surprised. It was most unconventional for a man to offer someone like her a gift. ‘Really, you ought not—I’m not sure that I can accept....’ But she wanted to and her heart skipped a beat.

‘It is merely a token of my appreciation. Perhaps not what I should have liked to give you, but a simple gift like this should not bring censure on you for accepting it.’

‘Perhaps...’ Sarah breathed deeply. ‘Thank you, I shall accept it in the spirit it was given.’

‘Then I am in your debt. I shall leave you to come down in your own time. I must see John and Francesca.’

Sarah nodded and retreated into her room, closing the door behind her. When she could breathe properly again, she untied the string holding the brown paper in place. Inside the package was a small prayer book in white leather chased with silver and set with what looked like a diamond clasp. Not a small gift by any means, but not an intimate gift—not the kind of gift a man might give to his mistress.

Of course, Sarah wasn’t his mistress yet. Now what had put that thought into her head? It was never going to happen!

She ran her fingers over the smooth leather, thinking how much she would like to use this when they went to church on Sundays. It was a thoughtful gift and just the kind of thing she liked—the kind of gift her father had often given her for birthdays and Christmas. Mr Hardcastle had not often given impromptu gifts and Sarah wondered why Lord Myers had chosen to do so; he’d only been away a few days, even if they had seemed like a lifetime to Sarah.

* * *

‘Look what Rupert bought for me,’ Francesca said, glowing with pleasure as she showed Sarah the pretty fan she’d been given as her gift. The sticks were pierced ivory with gold chasing and painted with French pastoral scenes. ‘Is it not lovely?’

‘Yes, very pretty,’ Sarah agreed, pleased to see the girl so delighted with a simple gift.

His gift could hardly have been more appreciated, for it was something the girl had lacked. She spent most of the evening fanning her cheeks and peeking over the top at them, as if she were practising how to flirt.

Sarah found her innocent pleasure most attractive and a little amusing and, her eyes seeking Rupert’s, she saw the glisten of laughter there, as if he shared her thoughts. Then his eyes met hers and his expression changed, becoming so intense that it burned her. He half raised his glass to her and then turned away to speak to John.

Sarah looked down at her plate. Just what was in his mind? She was finding it difficult to judge because the signals were mixed. Rupert seemed so gallant, so kind and considerate at one moment and the next he was the charming rake, intent on making a conquest.

And if she did not stop thinking such foolish things and pay attention to what was being said, they would all wonder what was the matter with her.

John had been given a pair of York tan riding gloves and a sturdy whip made of good leather, but without embellishment. He had worn his gloves to table, but a nod from his mentor made him remove them in order to eat his dinner.

Looking about her, Sarah thought she had never been so content. She’d always regretted the lack of a sister or brother and this was the family she would always have wished for had she been given a choice. The only thing that could make things better was if Rupert actually cared for her...but that was dangerous territory and she pushed it from her mind as the talk turned to a discussion of their guests.

It appeared that they were to have four ladies and six gentlemen, all of whom were Rupert’s particular friends, and, Sarah was certain, handpicked for their reliability.

At least with guests in the house, Rupert was unlikely to start an affair with his charge’s companion.