Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires Page 6

  “I remember when the two of you became affianced,” the Duke of Pinehurst said, changing the subject. He was a stout-­looking fellow with more girth than height to his aging figure. He pointed a finger at Christopher. “And I remember when you were born, lad.” He sighed. “Seems like only yesterday.”

  Taking the occasional sip from the glass of claret before him, Christopher listened quietly as the older men in his company began reminiscing about the past. He was only too aware of how soon he was likely to find himself in their shoes. If the speed with which the first thirty years of his life had passed him by was any indication, he’d be a grandfather before he had time to blink. It was frightening, and quickly led to a mood he didn’t much care for. Devil take it, he really ought to set his mind to finding a wife.

  White-­blonde hair and clear blue eyes filled his mind’s eye as he pondered Lady Sarah. What was he thinking? He knew little about her—­had only just met her—­yet she was the first who came to mind as he contemplated his future. Perhaps because he secretly enjoyed the way she scrunched her nose when he annoyed her. Or because of how blunt she’d been with him during dinner. Nobody, not even his sisters, had dared accuse him of being afraid. Not that it mattered. Lady Sarah had already set her sights on someone else and would soon be announcing her engagement.

  He was still wondering who the lucky fellow might be when his father rose from his seat along with the other gentlemen, their conversation apparently at an end. “Shall we go and join the ladies?” his father asked him, “or would you prefer a game of cards?”

  Getting to his feet, Christopher rose to his full height—­an inch above his father. “A game of whist would be splendid.” Anything to take his mind off his duty.

  By eleven o’clock, Christopher and his father had won most of the rounds. “Gentlemen, I think I’m going to retire,” Christopher said, downing the last of his brandy.

  “Already?” Mr. Hewitt asked. “How about one last round?”

  “You’ll have to find another partner,” Pinehurst told Hewitt. “I’ve been ready for bed myself this past hour.”

  “It’s been a pleasure,” Christopher said, rising.

  With a nod, Christopher’s father wished him a good night, as did Hewitt and Pinehurst. Hewitt did not look pleased, probably because he’d hoped his luck would change and that he and Pinehurst would win another round before closing the game. It wasn’t likely to happen unless Christopher and his father deliberately allowed it.

  Exiting the room, Christopher turned right, in a direction that would lead him toward the stairs. It was an exceedingly long hallway with a series of nooks set into the walls, where vases filled with bursts of lilacs had been placed to their best advantage. The distance between doorways leading into different rooms was at least twenty paces, occasionally twice that, and as he passed each one, he glanced inside, marveling at the vast variety of design between them. He was just about to pass the last room on his right when his sister Fiona stepped out, blocking his path. “We need to talk,” she said as she reached for his hand and began dragging him back inside the room with her.

  What the devil?

  “Have you been lying in wait for me?” he asked. “How on earth did you even know I’d be coming this way?”

  “I knew you’d eventually need to go upstairs, and I didn’t want to miss you once you did. We didn’t want to miss you.”

  Christopher froze. We? That’s when it occurred to him that the room Fiona had led him into was filled with not only his remaining sisters but with his mother as well. Damnation! He turned for the door, determined to make his escape while he could, only to find that Fiona had closed it, locked it, and removed the key during the momentary state of bewilderment he’d endured upon seeing all those familiar faces staring back at him. It was a trap, and he could see no decent way out of it.

  “I apologize,” his mother said as she patted the seat next to her, “but we knew you’d find a way to avoid us if you suspected us of wanting to speak with you.”

  “And why do you suppose that is?” he asked as he strode across to the vacant spot the settee offered and lowered himself onto it. “Surely not because the only subject you wish to discuss with me these days is the acquisition of a wife.”

  “If you would only make an effort to speak with the young ladies you meet, I’d at least be able to relax in the assurance that you would eventually warm to one of them, but how are you to find a bride for yourself when you insist on avoiding them all?” Lady Oakland asked.

  “I did not avoid Lady Sarah during supper, Mama,” Christopher said defensively.

  Belatedly, he realized his mistake as a hush filled the room and his mother smiled serenely. “Indeed, you spoke to her much longer than I’ve seen you speak to any other young lady in recent memory. You didn’t ignore her, Kip.”

  True. Lady Sarah was not the sort of lady one ignored.

  “And from my own conversation with her,” Fiona added, “I found her delightful company. She’s well-­spoken and pretty, not to mention that there’s a gentility about her that’s much to be admired.”

  She’s also in dire need of kissing.

  Christopher blinked. When the hell had his thoughts taken on a life of their own? He clenched his jaw. “I will not allow any of you to involve yourselves in my private affairs,” he said. “I thought I made that perfectly clear during our ride here.” Glaring at Laura, Rachel and Fiona in turn, he was only marginally satisfied to see them avoid his gaze. Chloe hadn’t been present during that conversation, so he addressed her next, saying, “You, of all ­people, ought to understand my reluctance to marry.”

  “Certainly I do,” Chloe said. “I know what it is to lose faith in someone you love. But you are Papa’s heir, Kip. You may not want the responsibility that’s been placed upon your shoulders, but it’s yours nonetheless. Besides, there’s every possibility that you’ll make a wonderful match and that you’ll be happy.”

  “I doubt it,” Christopher muttered, unwilling to fuel their enthusiasm in any way.

  “Just so you know, this wasn’t my idea,” Rachel mumbled.

  “Thank you, Rachel,” Christopher said. “I’m glad to see that at least one of you has refrained from ignoring my wishes.”

  “Oh do be sensible,” Laura said. “Lady Sarah is very pleasant.”

  Clearly his sisters had not met the same woman Christopher had encountered in the conservatory or at the dinner table, because that Lady Sarah had not been genteel or pleasant when she’d accused him of being an idiot or of being too arrogant for his own good. He allowed an inward smile at the recollection.

  “She’s lovely,” Emily continued, “and not at all like that horrid Miss—­”

  “Hush!” Lady Oakland narrowed her eyes on her daughter while Christopher gripped the armrest next to him. “We will not speak of that woman ever again. Is that clear?” Dark ringlets bobbed in accordance with Lady Oakland’s wishes while all her daughters nodded agreement. Lady Oakland relaxed her posture. “Good.” She turned to look at Christopher. “From where I was sitting, it looked as though Lady Sarah was pleased with your company this evening. She smiled at you a great deal even though you insisted on treating her to your stone face.”

  “My what?” Christopher asked.

  “That incessant scowl of yours,” his mother explained. “I’m surprised flowers don’t wither and die in your presence.”

  He shook his head. “Really, Mama, I think you exaggerate.” But he knew she was right. Smiles were inviting, and he had no wish to invite anyone to do or think or say anything. Regardless, Lady Sarah had favored him with her smile, and she’d been radiant.

  “Do I?” his mother asked. Immediately Christopher’s sisters shook their heads. They weren’t blind.

  “Lady Sarah is a proper young lady of good breeding, Kip,” his mother went on. “We know she comes from a very good famil
y, and although you were absent when she made her debut, I had the good fortune of attending a dinner at which she was asked to play the pianoforte—­she’s very accomplished.”

  Christopher suppressed a groan. This was getting out of hand. “I think you’re exaggerating her interest in me. Besides,” he added, “she’s getting engaged to someone else.”

  The sooner his sisters and mother left the subject alone, the sooner he could continue upstairs to bed. He was beginning to acquire a headache.

  “To whom?” Rachel asked.

  Christopher dealt her a deadly look, which had seemingly little effect on her. “What does it matter? The point is that there is no point to this conversation, since Lady Sarah is already spoken for.”

  “By Mr. Denison,” Fiona supplied. When everyone turned to her for an explanation, she shrugged her shoulders. “A minor detail, considering she doesn’t wish to marry him.”

  “And you deduced this how?” Christopher bit out.

  Unfazed by his tone of annoyance, Fiona said, “It was clear in the way she spoke of him.”

  Closing his eyes, Christopher fought for patience. “Please tell me you didn’t question a woman you’d only just met about her feelings for the man she intends to marry.”

  “Of course I did,” Fiona replied. “How else was I to discover if she was worthy of your considerations?”

  Christopher groaned. Opening his eyes, he looked at each of them in turn. “Have you completely lost your minds? Do you even hear what you are saying?”

  “I believe we’re suggesting that you should save Lady Sarah from her undesirable suitor and—­”

  “Enough,” Christopher clipped, cutting off Laura. “Your romantic notions are captivating too much of your time if you imagine there’s any chance of such a scenario taking place. It’s completely unrealistic and best suited to one of your novels.”

  “That was rather harsh,” his mother said in that tone of hers that made him feel so very small.

  He felt as though he’d just kicked a puppy, and by the pained expression on Laura’s face, he realized he might as well have. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You know I think you’re extremely talented, but this . . . it’s all too much.”

  Laura nodded. “I’m sorry too, Kip. I just want for you to find that special someone who will make you happy. We all do.”

  “I know you do,” he said, even though he knew this would never happen. His heart had grown cold after Miss Hepplestone’s machinations. A love match had become an impossibility.

  “And I think Lady Sarah is our best bet,” Lady Fiona said, stubborn as always. “Don’t think we didn’t notice that you almost smiled while you were talking to her.”

  Of course his sisters had noticed that minor slip in his composure.

  “Or that she looked slightly flustered when she was first introduced to all of us,” Chloe said. “Especially when she looked at you, Kip.”

  “I’m sure she was just uncomfortable with being dragged before a group of ­people she didn’t know, who, if I may remind you, practically insisted she be paired off with me in some capacity or other,” Christopher said. “What on earth were you thinking?”

  “That she was glancing at you a great deal during that particular conversation,” Emily said. She frowned. “Are you sure you never met her before this evening? I could have sworn there was a certain familiarity between the two of you, though it did perhaps seem a bit strained.”

  There was no way in hell he was going to mention his encounter with Lady Sarah in the conservatory earlier in the day. Only trouble lay in that direction. “You’re imagining things,” he said.

  “I don’t think so,” Chloe said.

  Christopher was reaching his limit. “I don’t want any of you to interfere,” he told his mother and sisters crisply.

  “And we won’t,” Lady Oakland assured him as she offered a far too innocent smile, “as long as you promise to give Lady Sarah a chance.”

  “She. Plans. To. Marry. Mr. Denison!” Did he really have to educate his own mother on the impropriety of setting his cap for another man’s intended, no matter who he might be?

  “Tsk, tsk.” His mother waved a dismissive hand. “Until Mr. Denison actually proposes . . . he hasn’t proposed yet, has he, Fiona?”

  “No, Mama,” Fiona said, her smile annoyingly smug upon her pretty face.

  “Well then,” Lady Oakland said, “until he does and Lady Sarah accepts, there’s nothing to prevent you from pursuing her as well. With your title taken into account, not to mention that you’ll be the Earl of Oakland one day as well, I think it’s fair to say that you have a clear advantage.”

  “Has it not occurred to you, Mama, that Lady Sarah probably has a good reason for considering Mr. Denison?” Christopher asked. “That he’s probably been chosen for her by her parents? Especially if what Fiona says about Lady Sarah’s lack of enthusiasm for the man is true.”

  “Of course it’s true!” Fiona looked at him incredulously.

  “I can’t imagine Lady Sarah’s reasoning,” Lady Oakland said, “or her parents’ for that matter, but I can assure you that once you show an interest, they’ll welcome your suit with open arms. They’d be fools not to.”

  Which was precisely why Christopher was reluctant to have anything more to do with Lady Sarah. Instinct told him that something wasn’t right about her willingness to marry beneath her station and that involving himself with her would be synonymous with courting trouble.

  “All I’m asking is for you to make an effort to further your acquaintance with her, Kip. See where it goes,” his mother said. She made it sound like such a small request, when it was anything but. “In return, we’ll stop pestering you about finding a wife, won’t we, girls?” All the Heartly daughters nodded their agreement. “Otherwise,” Christopher’s mother continued, delicately brushing a piece of invisible lint from her skirt, “I fear we’ll have no choice but to keep looking for other eligible young ladies for you to consider. After all, it is your duty to marry, so I’d hate to squander the opportunity Thorncliff offers in finding you a potential bride. And before you protest too loudly, you ought to know that your father agrees.”

  Christopher’s mouth dropped open. He was being blackmailed by his own family. A ghastly vision of having all the young ladies who were visiting Thorncliff dragged before him by his mother produced an instant shudder.

  “It’s for your own good, you know,” his mother added, patting him gently on the arm.

  Christopher almost winced. “But what if Lady Sarah doesn’t want to give me a chance?” Good God, he’d lost control of his own future, and all in the space of fifteen minutes if the clock on the mantel was any indication.

  Lady Oakland shrugged. “Then at least you can say you’ve tried. Besides, you’ve always enjoyed a good challenge, and if she’s worth having, she’s also worth fighting for. Now,” she continued with a spark to her voice that startled Christopher, “shall we ring for a late-­night snack?”

  Christopher sat in stunned silence for a moment, attempting to comprehend what had just transpired. “Not for me,” he finally managed. “I believe I’m going to continue upstairs to bed—­which is where I was initially headed.” Rising, he waited for Fiona to unlock the door, while he proceeded to wish everyone a good night. They faced him with serene faces, leaving no hint of their scheming nature. God help the men who eventually married them!

  Turning on his heel, Christopher made for the door and fled, only too aware of the roaring in his ears. Apparently Thorncliff wasn’t large enough to save him from his meddling sisters and mother after all. For that, he would probably have to board a ship bound for America. A drastic measure, to be sure, but one that he was seriously considering by the time he climbed into bed, even though the simplest course of action would probably be for him to nod and play along.

  Chapter 5

&nb
sp; “Isn’t it marvelous?” Mr. Denison said as he studied the ancient sundial sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the rose garden.

  Standing beside him, Sarah did her best to hide her disinterest. “Absolutely,” she said, her thoughts straying to the conversation she’d had with Lord Spencer the previous evening during dinner. He truly was the most solemn man she’d ever encountered. Not once had he made an effort to charm her. If anything, he’d attempted the opposite, which was probably for the best, since she was not one to welcome pretty compliments. Not anymore.

  “Look at how precise that shadow is,” Mr. Denison said, interrupting her thoughts. “An ingenious piece of engineering.”

  Looking down at the flat stone before her, Sarah tilted her head. It was certainly clever, but an ingenious piece of engineering? Hardly. “Perhaps you should buy one for your own garden,” Sarah suggested.

  “An excellent idea, my lady, although I’d much rather think of it as our garden.”

  Sarah stiffened. “It isn’t yet.”

  “A mere technicality that will soon be rectified.”

  Straightening, Mr. Denison moved toward her, while Sarah fought the instinct to retreat. “I’ve been considering your daughters’ prospects,” she told him hastily. Her words produced the desired effect, halting Mr. Denison in his tracks.

  “How efficient of you.” His mouth curved with what appeared to be appreciation.

  “They are of age, sir, if you’ll forgive me for saying so.”

  He seemed to ponder this. “So are you, my dear.” He stepped closer, his laughing eyes taking her in, regarding her in a manner that made her skin crawl. “I’ll accept nothing less than a nobleman for my girls. They will be ladies. Is that clear?”

  Unsure of how she would facilitate such beneficial matches—­or disastrous ones, depending on which side you viewed the situation from—­Sarah nodded.

  “I’m thinking your dinner partner from last night might be an option,” he continued.