Authors: The Enigmatic Rake
He blinked against the image. And set himself to ignore it. Of course it pleased him to give his wife pleasure. What man could not be moved by the sight of so attractive a lady basking in a new-found confidence and praise from those around her. Any man would feel a need to touch and hold her. It was nothing more complicated than that.
All in all, it was a most satisfactory sojourn at Richmond for everyone. There was only one matter to catch Sarah’s notice and gave her cause for speculation. She found herself remembering Millington’s comments on the anonymous individuals who visited Joshua in London. And the deluge of correspondence to come through the door. The visitors and correspondence followed them to Richmond.
‘Who was that?’ Sarah asked one evening, crossing the path of an unknown gentleman who bowed and wished her good night as he made his way to the front door.
‘My lawyer.’ Joshua’s reply came without hesitation.
‘Is he connected with Mr Hoskins?’ Sarah was acquainted with Hoskins, the Faringdon family’s man of legal affairs.
‘Ah. Yes. A new member of the firm.’
‘Is there a problem?’
‘Why, no.’ Joshua smiled at his wife and held out his hand in welcome. ‘I have an interest in purchasing some land, which he is dealing with. That is all.’
With which Sarah had to be content. Of course he would have business interests. What gentleman of considerable fortune would not?
The Faringdon family returned and took up residence in Hanover Square.
One of Sarah’s first dilemmas was the continuing position of Millington in the household. She remembered his depredations in the wine cellar and her own distressing encounter with him of a more personal nature. With her lord’s permission to dismiss and choose the servants as she saw fit, it would be a
matter of common sense to appoint a new butler. But now that she could, she did not at all know that she wished to do so. As she thought about it, the little smile that curved her lips grew, recalling with a degree of affection his part in the French banquet and the subsequent celebration in the servants’ hall. Millington had risen to her support, a positive champion, with aplomb, unquestionable arrogance and an impressive French accent, overseeing the serving of the meal with supercilious hauteur. Not to mention the appearance of the bottles of claret in which they had toasted the defeat of the Countess of Wexford. So Millington remained as butler in the Faringdon household, but with strict instructions as to the amount of port he might consume in any one week.
Within the first week of their return, Lady Joshua Faringdon found herself in receipt of an invitation to pay a morning visit on the Countess of Painscastle in Grosvenor Square. Presenting herself at the appropriate time, she was far from surprised to find Theodora already sitting comfortably with Judith, both awaiting the bride’s appearance. Both were sipping glasses of madeira, both looked up as she entered. Sarah immediately realised that she had been the topic under discussion and with quick understanding set herself to repel any questions of an intimate nature.
She need not have bothered. There was no hope of her holding out with dignity under the scrutiny of two determined ladies.
They rose to greet her, sat her down, presented her with a glass of madeira and proceeded to quiz her on her state of health, her enjoyment of the wedding, her appreciation of the house in Richmond and, of course, her new relationship with Lord Joshua Faringdon.
‘So how is the bride?’ Thea surveyed her critically over the rim of her glass.
‘Very well, Thea. As you see.’ She winced at the prim note in her voice, but determined to give nothing more away.
‘Are you enjoying being a married lady again?’
‘Yes, indeed. Most enjoyable.’
‘I expect your stay in Richmond gave you the opportunity to get to know Joshua better.’
‘Why, yes.’
‘Does Joshua please you?’ There was just a hint of impatience in Thea now. Perhaps the clue was the slight tapping of her foot against the Aubusson carpet.
‘Of course.’ Sarah gripped the stem of her glass rather more firmly and took a fortifying sip.
‘Sarah!’ Thea sighed. ‘Is he virile?’
‘Theodora!’ Judith cast her a look no more horrified than Sarah’s.
‘What?’ The lady’s brows rose in perfect astonishment. ‘We want to know, do we not? And if I do not ask Sarah outright, she will never tell us!’
‘He is my brother!’ Judith explained. ‘It does not seem to me suitable to be discussing such matters of Sher’s…of his… Well! You know what I mean!’
‘Well, I can discuss it. You are suddenly very mealy-mouthed, Ju.’ Thea turned back to her sister with a laugh and a sparkle in her delphinium-blue eyes. ‘Sarah. Did Joshua make you happy?’
The tell-tale colour began to creep up the bride’s throat from the fashionable ruched neckline of her morning gown. ‘Yes. He gave me The Jewel for my own.’
‘That is not what I meant, as you very well know.’
‘I know,’ Sarah admitted, but her smile was now mischievous.
‘Are you not going to say?’
‘No.’
‘You look very happy.’
‘I am.’
‘Does he give you pleasure? Is he a good lover?’
‘Oh, yes.’ By now Sarah’s cheeks were as pink as a June rose. ‘Oh, yes!’
They laughed. For indeed there could be no doubting it. Thea and Judith clucked in a maternal fashion, Judith pouring more glasses of madeira so that they might toast the bride. Because Sarah Faringdon positively glowed. And her friends were more delighted for her than they would ever have admitted.
It became necessary later within that week for the object of their intense discussion also to pay a morning visit on his sister, fortunately for his dignity knowing nothing of the previous conversation. The visit to Richmond had been more pleasurable than he could have imagined, for a surprising number of reasons, not least his attraction to Sarah herself, his increasing desire to make her happy. So when a thought came into his mind, one that he could not resolve, he decided to pay a visit on Judith.
‘Sher. At last. I am delighted to see you.’ Judith kissed his cheek. ‘How well you look. And completely healed, I see. No cane and no limp. Country life has been good for you.’
‘I am very well.’ He grinned at her obvious ploy, but shook his head before kissing her cheek.
‘I have seen Sarah. She said she enjoyed Richmond. She certainly looks in the pink of health.’ The lady’s sly smile was also ignored.
‘I need your advice, Ju. I wish to buy Sarah a wedding gift.’
Judith laughed. ‘So?’
‘I have no idea what. She can be very… Well, I was hoping for some help. You probably know her the best of any of us.’
‘Joshua!’ Judith blinked at this ingenuous admission, but was immediately caught up in the project, although not without a sharp dig. ‘And I thought you knew women so well.’
‘But not Sarah, it seems.’
‘There is always jewellery, of course.’
‘No. That is not what I want.’ Joshua frowned a little. He knew instinctively that his wife would have difficulty in accepting precious stones. ‘Besides, she will have the Faringdon jewels that Lady Beatrice has promised to hand over.’
‘Mmm. If Mama will part with them. Let me see… You pay for her clothes anyway…’
‘Of course.’
Judith thought for a moment, eyes narrowed, contemplating the young woman whom she had indeed come to know well. ‘I know exactly what Sarah would like. It is easily done, but will take some organisation. Let me talk to you about this.’
It took a week to put the plan into operation. It demanded some organisation, as Judith had intimated, some surreptitious furniture moving in Hanover Square, some expenditure on Joshua’s part, the compliance and secrecy of the Faringdon servants and, finally, a need for Judith and Thea to arrange to remove Sarah from her home for a whole day. Sarah suspected nothing underhand when the morning visit to Thea became a light luncheon, then a drive around Hyde Park and finally a visit to a number of establishments in Bond Street with her sister and Judith. She arrived home in the growing dusk of late afternoon, pleasantly weary, changed her clothes, spent some time with Beth and John, who appeared to be particularly excitable, and at last went to search out the whereabouts of Lord Joshua, whom she had not set eyes on since leaving the breakfast table. For some reason she found him awaiting her in the entrance hall.
She smiled as she descended the stairs. He could not but smile back as he waited and watched her. She had no idea how lovely she was, he realised, or how her looks and her demeanour had unfurled as a rose with the warmth of the morning sun since her marriage. He could not help but experience a degree of purely masculine pride at the thought. Her skin was flawless, her eyes shining, enhanced by the favourite viola-blue of her gown. Her neat figure could not but attract attention as she conducted herself with confidence and a charming simplicity. Her fair curls gleamed softly in the light, held in place by rosettes of satin ribbon to match her gown. She had banished the lace cap—he had
insisted
that she ban
ish the cap! Now she appeared as she was, a young matron of wealth, style and the gentlest degree of sophistication. That was Sarah.
‘Sarah.’ He took her hand, would have kissed her fingers, but could not resist drawing her closer to press his mouth to hers, a lingering pressure, a memory of more heated kisses, despite the possibility of their privacy being broached. It did not matter. She was his wife and he… What exactly? He did not know, except that he was coming to care for her…although
care
suddenly seemed too mild a word to describe the manner in which his pulse picked up its beat when he set eyes on her. Or even thought about her. But he deliberately banished from his mind the uncertainty of his exact emotions. Because here in the following few minutes a greater uncertainty was in the process of unfolding. Would the lady appreciate what he had done?
‘Joshua.’ She coloured, a delicate brush of rose, but let him hold her a little longer. Why not? It was the stuff of dreams after all, to see him standing there, all Faringdon magnificence, waiting for her, waiting to take her into his arms, to claim her lips with his own. What woman would not dream of that? She sighed softly and looked up at him. ‘Were you waiting for me?’ Just a little breathless as she noted the fiery heat in his eyes.
‘I was. It was in my mind that I would like to give you something. A wedding gift.’
‘Is it a diamond necklace? A parting gift?’ Her nose wrinkled deliciously. But was it humour or concern here?
He did not smile. In fact, his expression became quite severe. ‘Are you dissatisfied with me as a husband after a mere few weeks, ma’am?’
‘No.’
‘Well, neither am I with you as my wife. So, no, it is not a diamond necklace. Although, if you find a desire to sparkle and impress at a ball or soirée, there is at least one in the Faringdon collection.’
‘I might.’ She chuckled as he tucked her hand companion
ably through his arm to lead her back up the stairs in the direction from which she had just come. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Wait and see.’
Sarah knew the house well. Had she not been responsible for its cleaning and furbishment? So when he led her to the rarely-used parlour on the first floor with its view over the square and its garden she looked up, a quizzical expression. Her lord refused to respond, but opened the door and ushered her in before him. Then stood back to test the waters.
Sarah walked forward to stand in the centre of the room. Then turned slowly in a full circle. Of course, she knew this room as well as any of the others. The wall paper was still the Chinese silk, a little worn but deliciously festooned with pale pink and blue cranes and chrysanthemums on a silver background. The tall windows let in what was left of the evening light, to warm the pale marble of the Grecian fireplace. All of this she knew. But as for the rest, it was all quite different and effectively robbed her of speech. The curtains and swags that had suffered from age and faded over the years from the heat of the sun had been replaced with splendid new drapes of cream and silver silk damask. All the dust sheets had been removed from the furniture—and that too had changed. Her eyes flew to her lord’s in astonishment.
‘Do you like it?’ He stepped forward to light a branch of candles at her side, the soft flames adding a further layer of charm to the little room.
Sarah’s mouth opened, but she could find nothing to say.
‘It is yours.’ Joshua found a need to explain. ‘Thea would call it a boudoir. It is a wedding gift to you. I…er…took advice…’ A moment of horror suddenly silenced him. ‘From Judith,’ he added quickly, in case she should think it might be Olivia Wexford.
Sarah laughed softly in appreciation, then turned again to survey the full magnificence of the gift. Small and decorative pieces of furniture suitable for a lady’s sitting room or boudoir
had been collected from various rooms in the house, with the notable addition of some new pieces. Walnut, rosewood, all light and well polished, inlaid with various and decorative woods, they seduced her senses and beckoned her to enter and claim it as her own. Two bergère chairs with gilded sides and cushioned seats to match the drapes stood on either side of the fireplace to accommodate any guests Sarah might wish to entertain, between them a sofa with scrolled ends, upholstered in cream silk, perfect for a lady to take her ease. A side table rested beside the wall next to a beautiful writing desk with a tambour top, which had been shrouded in a dust sheet, unused, in the morning room when Sarah had first come to the house. On the walls were two of her own framed paintings of rural scenes, last seen in the schoolroom. A small bookcase stood beside the fireplace—she had never seen that before—with some favourite novels in marbled covers—which hinted at Thea’s influence. She saw an inlaid work table for her silks and embroideries, nothing like the old battered box she used in the schoolroom. All tastefully enhanced by a satinwood firescreen, a gilt-edged mirror above the fireplace, silver candlesticks, an extravagantly pale carpet and—oh, wonders!—a pianoforte beneath the window, of rosewood and satinwood inlay, its ivory notes gleaming softly and simply demanding to be played.