“How many others go with you?” he asked.
She glanced up coyly. “Are you jealous? I’m sorry to have teased you. Only Sarah and Lord and Lady Prestwick will be in attendance, besides Lord Breckonridge.”
Only the Prestwicks? Ah, but that would mean their butler would be along. Rames was a noted jabbermouth, he knew to his pleasure. Between the Prestwick butler and Breckonridge’s fool Appleby, his own valet always had a story to relate. Appleby might protest aloud that Breckonridge was courting Sarah Compton, but the man’s money was on Persephone. With such a set of gossipers in attendance, news would reach London soon enough.
“Surely Lady Prestwick can spare an invitation for a friend of Breckonridge’s” he said aloud.
He could see her frown. “I’m sure I would not presume to ask,” she said primly.
Wretch
, he thought. It was clear she sought to punish him for not offering. She so much as flaunted Breckonridge in his face. It was a dangerous game. “And if I were to follow you?” he pressed. “Do you expect me to live off the crumbs of your affection?”
“Crumbs?” She raised her head and broke from his grip. “Crumbs? I risk my reputation, my honor to be with you and you call it a crumb? Perhaps you would like to visit via the front door like the rest of my suitors, my lord.”
She was as slippery as an eel and twice as cunning. He made his face penitent.
“Have I not explained why we cannot be seen in public? Do you think I like the fact that the inheritance is not mine until October? Your father would never accept me as a suitor now. Would you have wanted me to be content to worship from afar? To see you go to another?”
“Never!” she cried, throwing herself back into his arms. “Oh, Rupert, it is all so very tragic and romantic. Will you really follow me to Somerset?”
“To the ends of the earth, if need be,” he assured her.
Anywhere, just so long as justice is served, and Breckonridge is humbled
.
* * * *
Malcolm had to admit that Anne Prestwick was a genius. First, she convinced Sarah to attend a house party where Malcolm could have her all to himself, and then she had the foresight to have her husband deliver the news to him.
“Is she mad?” Malcolm had raged at first. “I can’t leave London. Parliament won’t recess until the end of the week, and there are any number of laws that must be moved forward in that time or languish until next session.”
“If you don’t come,” Chas had replied, leaning against the door jam of Malcolm’s untidy library, “it will be you who languishes next session, Malcolm. Anne is adamant. If you wish to marry Miss Compton, you must come.”
He had groused for some time but had eventually realized that the Prestwicks were right. Sarah would no doubt be returning to the country soon, and Persephone might agree to wed any day. Even if Sarah did not accept Lady Wenworth’s offer to teach, it was highly possible she would not be back in London next Season. If he wanted her, he needed to convince her of that fact.
As he rode through the arched, wrought-iron gates that announced the drive of Prestwick Park, he knew he had made the right decision. In the green of the country, he felt the last vestiges of his London stresses slough off his shoulders like snow from a roof in a spring thaw. He hadn’t ridden in ages. There were any number of fine horses scattered among his various estates, but he seldom had time to ride during his rare visits. He found himself glad Prestwick had suggested riding from London rather than sitting in a stuffy carriage.
Of course, he would likely pay for the ride for a few days. After the first night, he had been stiff and sore, envying Sarah and Persephone, who came behind them in a coach. On this, the third and final day out, he wasn’t sure his tailbone would ever be the same. Still, the day was warm and honey-scented, the sky a cloudless blue, and the rolling green hills of Somerset hugged him on all sides. Through the oaks that lined the drive he could see the red-brick great house, and beyond it, the rising gray mass that was the Mendip Hills.
He had not visited Somerset before. His mind immediately went to cataloging those members of Parliament who came from the area. The reclusive Earl of Wenworth had his seat just north and west of the village of Wenwood, which Prestwick had said was a few miles along the nearby River Wen. They’d need his vote on that Marriage Act next session. As Sarah was a particular friend of the countess, perhaps she could introduce him. Then there was the American chap, the Earl of Brentfield, whose lands ran along the eastern boundary with Prestwick Park. He’d been quite vocal in his opinions; indeed, the radical reformers were rather hoping they could persuade him to join them. Perhaps it was time for a heart-to-heart chat with the fellow. He had a charming wife, if Malcolm remembered -- quite the accomplished artist. She’d taught the Duke of Emerson’s talented daughter, Lady Emily Southwell. Perhaps Sarah would enjoy meeting her.
He shook his head at himself as he guided the horse up to the gleaming white-columned porch. Funny how he was beginning to see Sarah at his side in all his future dealings. It was a dangerous trait. He had less assurance that she would accept him now than when he had first proposed.
But certainly more hope. He would not be the only one more comfortable here. Sarah had said she enjoyed the country. Though he suspected her home was more rustic than this, perhaps Prestwick Park would do. He glanced around at the house in front of him, as grooms scurried forward to take his horse. Eight windows faced the drive, wings stretched backward toward the hills. Likely there was a garden behind the house. It was a graceful place, a comfortable place. Surely he and Sarah could come to a meeting of the minds here. All he could do was try.
* * * *
Sarah was almost as certain when she and Persephone stepped down from the carriage some time later. Prestwick Park was larger than her aunt and uncle’s estate by some degree. Even Persephone blinked in wonder as they entered the rotunda and gazed up at the domed roof two stories above them. A carpeted corridor stretched away to their right, and doors led off to their left. Immediately before them swept the great stair, curling around the room to the upper floor. Sarah would never have known where to go first if a helpful footman hadn’t led them to Lady Prestwick, who welcomed them warmly. Her welcome was nothing, however, to the reception Malcolm gave Sarah after she had had a chance to change from her traveling clothes in the lovely bedchamber Anne had give her.
She found him loitering in the corridor just down from her room. His aimless perusal of a painting of a cavalry charge made her wonder whether he was actually waiting for her to appear. His smile as she greeted him was tender, and he took her hand and brought it to her lips.
“Thank you,” he murmured, “for agreeing to come and agreeing to give me this chance.”
She was not sure how to answer him. As if sensing her discomfort, he turned her hand in his so that he could see her palm. “Such a small hand,“ he mused, stroking it with his thumb. She would not have thought it possible, but each movement seemed to be centered in her belly. “Do you know you hold my fate in it?“
“Nonsense,“ she said, pulling back. Yet her own hand moved to touch the spot he had stroked. He smiled at her, head bending nearer.
“Good afternoon, Lord Breckonridge,“ Persephone caroled, joining them. Malcolm stepped back and greeted her cousin kindly, and Sarah had no choice but to fall in with the two of them as they proceeded back to the main floor.
She was not certain what to expect of their visit but was pleased to find that their lives immediately settled into a comfortable routine. Anne Prestwick proved herself as able a hostess in her own home as she had at Almack’s. The food was good, frequent, and plentiful; the companionship as close or removed as one could wish. Sarah rode with Persephone every morning after breakfast. Sometimes Malcolm joined them. Other times, she suspected, he cornered Lord Prestwick for a debate on matters from Parliament. When Lord Prestwick could stand no more, they played billiards or went hunting in the oak woods surrounding the house.
However he had spent the early morning, Malcolm usually welcomed Sarah and Persephone back from their ride and spent the rest of the day with them. Lord and Lady Prestwick took them to see the famous caves at Cheddar Gorge and the sweeping golden cathedral at Wells. They drove through the surrounding vineyards and saw the waterfall behind Wenwood Abbey. Sarah was pleased to find Anne Prestwick a companion who actually took the time to seek her out and ask her opinion and advice. She was certainly not used to receiving such attention.
She worried that Persephone would take it amiss, but her cousin was charm itself. She smiled and conversed with everyone, even when she was certain the girl must be bored to tears with none of her usual suitors to pay her court. Yet, Persephone seemed happy, going so far as to tease Lord Breckonridge and play billiards with Lord Prestwick. She also spent considerable time alone, wandering in the gardens, taking Lady Prestwick’s pony cart for short jaunts up the drive. Sarah wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she thanked God that the girl appeared to be coming to her senses at last. Perhaps Lady Prestwick was right. What they had all needed was time away from London.
Now, if she could just determine what to do when Malcolm next proposed.
Chapter Fifteen
Rupert was also enjoying the country. It was indeed far easier to get Persephone Compton alone. They met at the end of the Prestwick Park drive when she drove the pony cart. They met in a clearing when she ventured into the woods beyond the house. They met whenever he could slip into the Prestwick garden unseen. She had yet to allow him sufficient time to compromise her, but her trust in him was growing along with his desire to bring this charade to an end. Accordingly, he encouraged her to meet him beneath the rose arbor in a secluded corner of the garden on the fourth day of their visit.
“So, you are yet unencumbered?” he asked after he’d stolen a kiss.
“Yes,” she replied, and he could not tell whether or not she was pleased by the fact.
“But you will accept Breckonridge if he offers?” he pressed.
She sat on the bench under the arbor and bent her head to a rose that grew through the white latticework. The warm color of the flower was no deeper than her own lips. Somehow, he thought she knew that.
“I had hoped once to become Lady Breckonridge,” she confessed. “But now . . .”
Now she was turning to him. Rupert smiled as his gaze lingered over the rise and fall of her breasts. “You are steadfast in your love for me?” he asked.
“Of course,” she murmured, more to the rose than to him. “But you cannot expect me to wait forever.”
“No, certainly not.” No more would he wait. He reached down to take her hand and pull her to her feet. She gazed up at him. The innocence in those violet eyes was for once the truth. But not for long.
“I am finding it just as difficult to wait,” he murmured, running his hand up her arm to her shoulder and bare neck. She shivered in obvious delight. “But first, I must have proof of your devotion to me.”
She blushed. “Of course. Would you like a handkerchief to wear next to your heart? Perhaps a lock of hair?”
Rupert pulled her close. “I had in mind a more substantial demonstration.” He covered her mouth with his. She did not resist him. In fact, she leaned into the kiss, opening her mouth to let him drink of her. Loosening his hold ever so slightly, he brought up one hand to cup her breast.
She recoiled immediately, rearing back to slap him. “My lord, you ask too much!”
Her voice had turned shrill even as her eyes flashed fire. He cared less about her wounded sensibilities, but he could not allow her to betray him. Even now he felt as if eyes watched him through the rose bushes surrounding them.
“I think perhaps you should come with me,” he told her, recapturing her shoulder. She flinched away from him, and he tightened his grip. Eyes widening as if she understood her danger, she yanked away from him with strength he did not know she possessed. With a sharp rip, the lace collar of her gown tore under his fingers.
“Now see what you’ve done,” she cried, eyes tearing. “You are a beast, Rupert Wells. I will never forgive you. I will go and marry Lord Breckonridge, and it will serve you right.”
She turned on her heel, and even though he sprang after her, she ran through the garden like a doe pursued by hounds. Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, he ducked behind a statue of a Greek maiden. His heart nearly burst in his chest.
But no one came after him, nor did he hear any movement in the garden around him. After some time, he convinced himself to move away from the house and off the estate.
He had damaged his chances with the conniving Persephone. The very idea of the time wasted sickened him. Of course, it was possible she might be brought to forgive him, but he didn’t think he could stomach the groveling necessary to bring that about. Yet he had to try.
He refused to leave Somerset empty handed.
* * * *
While Sarah had seemed delighted in her cousin’s behavior up until that fourth day, Malcolm was not so sanguine about Persephone Compton’s turnaround. While he too was pleased to see Sarah given her share of attention for once, he could not help but feel that something was wrong with Persephone that she did not protest. His impression was proven correct when he happened to stumble upon the girl returning from a walk in the garden with her eyes red-rimmed.
“Is something the matter, Miss Persephone?” he asked.
She jumped, gaze rising swiftly to his face and just as swiftly dropping. “The matter? No, no, of course not, my lord. Why would you ask?”
“I’m not used to seeing you cry, my dear,” he replied gently. As he looked closer, he could not help but notice that the lace trimming on the neck of her pretty gown was torn. “I can understand why you may not wish to confide in me,” he continued, concern rising. “Shall I go get your cousin?”
“No, thank you,” she said. “And I’m sorry if I appeared blunt. I did not expect to find you alone. You have been spending a great deal of time with my cousin.”