Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires (7 page)

“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

“I
sn'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.

“Lord Spencer?” He couldn't be serious.

“And since the two of you are already well acquainted, it should be simple enough for you to put in a good word on Victoria's and Diana's behalf.”

Good God. He
was
serious. Or at the very least mad. “As it happens, we did speak of marriage last night.” When Mr. Denison's eyes darkened, Sarah quickly added, “I thought I would make it clear to him that I am already spoken for.”

“Wisely done, Lady Sarah,” Mr. Denison said. “I applaud you.”

“As it turns out, however,” she continued slowly, “his lordship informed me that he has no intention of becoming affianced to any young lady in the immediate future.”

“Ah, but he hasn't met my Victoria or my Diana yet,” Mr. Denison said. “Once he does, he'll be sure to change his mind.”

Sarah doubted that but chose not to say otherwise. At present, she was faced with greater concerns, like the fact that Mr. Denison was suddenly much closer than he had been a second earlier.
Please don't touch me
.

Raising his hand, he caught a strand of her hair between his fingers, his lips pursing while he studied it. “I'm lucky your father happened to mention you in passing during his last visit to my farm. We were discussing our new business transaction, and when I told him he'd have to do better than one stallion when I was putting in ten mares, he brought you up.”

Oh joy!

“Can't say I have an issue with marrying into the Earl of Andover's esteemed family, even if you are spoiled goods,” he said, and Sarah flinched. “After all, we both know that you
must
marry, and since nobody else will have you if they are made aware of your . . . situation . . . it appears you're quite stuck with me. So I do hope you'll appreciate how lucky you are as well. After all, you are acquiring a husband.”

It was a struggle not to gape at him. Standing perfectly still, Sarah concentrated on breathing. Dear Lord, this was not someone she could easily run away from but the man who would soon have the right to bed her.

He leaned closer, while the edge of his mouth curved upward. “In case you're wondering, I find myself particularly fortunate to be marrying the sort of woman whose passions run so high that she'd allow a man to have his way with her at a house party.”

Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, Sarah thought of her sisters, her parents, her greatest error in judgment—­every reason she had for allowing this man near her. “It wasn't like that,” she said, relieved that her voice did not betray the ragged state of her nerves.

Mr. Denison chuckled. “You needn't deny your true nature when you are with me, Lady Sarah, for indeed, I look forward to encouraging your wanton behavior.” Leaning in, his lips brushed her earlobe.

“Sir,” she managed, “this is highly improper.”

“I rather suspect that you like impropriety.”

Good God! Was that his tongue against her ear?

“Why, you're practically trembling in your effort to suppress the desire I've evoked in you. You needn't though.” Easing away from her a little, he looked at her from behind hooded eyes. “In fact, if I may make a suggestion, we could retreat to a more private location, where I could show you—­”

“No!” Unable to take any more of it, Sarah stepped back, her breathing fast and desperate.

Mr. Denison's eyes widened, his entire face contorting into an ugly grimace as he caught her firmly by the wrist and pulled her toward him. “No?”

“Forgive me,” Sarah said, suddenly fearful of what he might do next. She glanced around, hoping to find a reason to escape his grasp. Unfortunately a hedge shielded them from the view of others.

“If you're unwilling to submit, then perhaps I ought to reconsider my bargain with your father?”

What a blessing that would be, but with her sisters' futures at stake, it was one Sarah couldn't allow, no matter how much she detested the thought of sharing the rest of her life with the likes of Mr. Denison. “And forgo the handsome compensation you'll receive from Papa on our wedding day?” His eyes sharpened, telling her she'd hit the nail squarely on its head, even though she'd no idea how big her dowry was. Huge, would be her guess, all things considered.

“The amount was certainly tempting, but now that I've seen you . . . well, there's no denying that you're the real prize.” He licked his lips while his eyes roamed over her, making her stomach churn. “I've had a prudish wife for much too long, Lady Sarah. Now that she's gone, I've a yearning for a wanton one instead—­one who'll give me the sons I crave and whose body I can enjoy to my heart's content.”

Sarah gasped. She could not believe he'd just said that to her.

Laughter shook his belly. “You're going to live on a farm, my dear. I suggest you get used to the baser things in life. If you resist . . . well, let's just say that you wouldn't be the first to feel the sting of my hand.”

He was a monster. She considered telling her father, but what good would that do? It wasn't a crime for a man to beat his wife, even if it might be frowned upon by some. Lord, there were even men who sold their wives at market if they wished to be rid of them. And her father had determined to be rid of her, so whatever she told him, he'd probably claim she exaggerated the issue. Especially since Mr. Denison had seemed so polite and reserved in Lord Andover's presence.

Sarah took a breath. She needed time in which to examine her options. “I wouldn't wish to make you unhappy,” she said, her mind spinning as she sought the right thing to say, “but I would like for us to have a respectable start to our marriage—­for it to be devoid of any scandal. After all, you do have your daughters to consider. If you wish for them to marry nobility, as you say, then it would hardly do for anyone to find their father in an indelicate situation with me, even if we are to be married.”

He stared at her long and hard before leaning back. “As much as I had hoped our courtship would lead to stolen kisses and . . . so much more, I have to admit that you make an excellent point.”

Sarah expelled the breath she'd been holding, her shoulders sagging with relief. “Perhaps I should join your daughters for tea this afternoon so I can get a feel for their accomplishments,” she suggested, hoping to steer his thoughts in a different direction.

“An excellent idea,” Mr. Denison said as he picked a rose and offered it to her, all traces of lechery gone from his countenance. It was like being with a completely different man from the one who'd regaled her with his lascivious ideas only moments earlier. “Shall we continue along this path? I believe it will take us down to the lake.”

They had not gone more than five paces before Sarah heard a voice calling her name. Halting her progress, she felt a wave of relief at the sight of Lady Fiona coming her way, though apprehension swiftly followed when she saw that Lady Fiona was not alone. She was accompanied by Lady Emily and Lady Laura, as well as by Lord Spencer, who was even handsomer than she recalled.

Determined not to favor him with too much attention, Sarah shifted her gaze to his sisters. “What a lovely surprise,” she said as she addressed the group as a whole. They couldn't possibly imagine how grateful she was to them for intervening in her stroll with Mr. Denison.

“We hope we're not interrupting a private conversation,” Lady Laura said.

“Not at all,” Sarah said politely. “Your company is most welcome.”

Against her better judgment, she glanced at Lord Spencer, her cheeks heating when she found that he was looking straight back at her. His handsomeness was clearly having an effect on her—­one she shouldn't allow. Shrugging off the shiver that spread across her shoulders, she focused on Ladies Emily, Laura and Fiona, saying, “If you will permit, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Denison.”

“We're delighted to make your acquaintance,” Lady Fiona said while Lady Laura and Lady Emily both nodded in agreement. “And since our paths have crossed, may I suggest you join us? We're hoping to make an attempt at the maze.”

“Well . . .” Mr. Denison hedged, clearly reluctant to join a larger group.

“Oh, it's going to be such fun,” Lady Fiona said, already stepping toward him and taking him by the arm.

“Thank you, but we'd rather not,” Mr. Denison said, his hand possessively holding on to Sarah's arm.

It was more than Sarah was willing to bear. “I think a maze sounds splendid,” she said. “In fact, I believe I should like to try it with my friends, but if you'd rather not—­”

“I understand your daughters wish to marry?” Fiona blurted.

Sarah couldn't imagine how she'd discovered that bit of information or how it might be relevant to the conversation, but when Mr. Denison nodded, Fiona said, “The Duchess of Pinehurst is most eager for her grandsons to marry as well. None have been very successful with the ladies, but it would be a wonderful coup for your daughters—­an association with a duke and duchess. Her Grace is presently enjoying a quiet spot in the shade just over there—­I'd be happy to introduce you to her if you like.”

Sarah couldn't imagine the Duchess of Pinehurst being pleased by Mr. Denison's unexpected company, but she felt the need for a reprieve from him herself and almost jumped for joy when he accepted Lady Fiona's offer. “I'll see you this evening for dinner, my lady,” he told Sarah. To everyone else, he said, “A pleasure meeting you,” before strolling off alongside Lady Fiona.

Sarah watched them approach the duchess, not daring to enjoy her freedom until he took a seat beside the dragon and Lady Fiona was on her way back.

“Is he not courting you?” Lady Laura inquired as they waited for Lady Fiona to reach them.

“He is,” Sarah said, uncomfortable with the confession.

“And yet he won't be seeing you again before dinner?” Lady Laura asked.

Sarah was grateful for it. “He'll probably go back to the house for luncheon before we're finished with the maze, and then he'll take his afternoon rest,” she explained.

“How difficult that must be for you,” Lord Spencer murmured, his expression completely inscrutable.

His voice, on the other hand, made her heart flutter just enough to remind her of the effect he was starting to have on her. “Are you not aware that absence makes the heart grow fonder?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow but failed to comment, since Lady Fiona arrived at precisely that moment. “Shall we proceed?” she asked.

Nodding, Sarah fell into step beside her.

“We simply cannot allow you to marry that man,” Lady Fiona said as they walked ahead of everyone else. “He's much older than I expected and not the least bit handsome. As a beautiful young lady, the daughter of an earl, no less, you can do so much better for yourself.”

Sarah sighed. Lady Fiona's curiosity and eagerness to help where she believed help was needed would be difficult to tackle. “Thank you for your consideration, but—­”

“I can think of a dozen more eligible gentlemen who'd be thrilled to make you their wife.”

No you can't,
Sarah thought sadly.

“Spencer, for instance—­”

“Please stop,” Sarah said, afraid Lord Spencer might have overheard. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was secretly scheming to lure him to the altar. “We have nothing in common.” She decided not to mention that he also unnerved her with his uncanny ability to look ill-­tempered at all hours of the day. But she had to admit that she did enjoy their discourse. Perhaps they could be friends, in an odd sort of way.

Lady Fiona slanted a look in her direction as if to say,
And I suppose you have much in common with Mr. Denison?
Instead she asked, “Why are you really considering marriage to that man?”