The Offer (13 page)

“No, no, I'm serious about this, Phillip. She's a delightful girl, though I must wait some three more months for her. Old Eversleigh made me promise to let the girl reach her eighteenth birthday before taking her to wife.”

Phillip had been surprised, no doubt about that. “But you've buried one wife, Richard, and you have your heir. You've told me more times than I can count that you would never again get yourself married, that one woman just couldn't keep you happy or content.”

Richard grunted and downed another glass of brandy. “I want her,” he said, his voice thick with lust and drink. “She's as vivid as life itself. Her hair is the color of those flames and long and thick. I want to bury my face in her hair, just breathe her in.” He raised his eyes to Phillip's face then. “You know, she's the only comely female I know who hasn't used all her wiles to trap me. She is curiously unaware of passion, indeed, appears to be sublimely unaware of her effect on me. Yes,” he said, looking away from the fire and back at the cards in his hand, “I want her.”

Phillip became aware that Charles was speaking. “What did you say, Charlie?”

“I asked you what you intend to do.”

“Didn't you hear me? I saved her bloody life, nothing more, nothing less. I'm going to return her to her family.” No, it wasn't going to be quite that easy. There was Trevor to be dealt with. “You said that this Trevor is married to Sabrina's sister?”

“Yes. If you asked me, I'd say the whole thing was a bribe. Elizabeth isn't a very lovable woman. She makes me want to take to my heels.”

“Does Sabrina have an aunt in London?”

“Certainly. Lady Barresford. You've been to several of her soirees, have you not?”

Sabrina's merchant aunt. He nodded absently. Obviously she'd intended to flee to her aunt for protection. At least Charles had added sufficient facts so Phillip would be able to force the whole truth from her. Then, he thought, he would decide exactly what was to be done.

“You still refuse to admit to having compromised her?”

“No, I haven't compromised her and I refuse to believe that saving that damned girl's life would cast me into the role of the major villain in this farce. Don't tell me you've ever wanted to ravage a girl who was so cold her teeth were chattering?”

“No, but I'm not a womanizer and you are. I have no idea what sorts of odd situations would make you mad with lust.”

“Oh, just shut up.”

“If it matters to you, of course I believe you. I've never known you to lie except when we were boys. But no one else will believe you. Sabrina will be ostracized the moment it's discovered that she was with you.”

It was true and he didn't like it one little bit. He wasn't all that bad. He didn't hurt anyone, he merely did what he pleased. “My reputation is so very damning, Charles?”

“Damning? Well, I suppose you'd think that in this situation. Strange thing is, you know very well that you'd emerge unscathed from this, but Sabrina? Oh no. Odd the way society works, isn't it?”

Phillip felt a surge of anger. It was true that he'd felt lust for her. For God's sake, he wasn't dead. But he was an honorable man when all was said and done. He'd not taken advantage of her. Their intimacy had been forced upon her by her illness. He thought fleetingly of Martine, his mistress. By God, if only he'd stayed in London, passing long lazy hours in her bedchamber, none of this would have happened. Well, it had happened. Sabrina had happened.

There was no hope for it, if, that is, Charles was right. Phillip pounded his bread dough. Charles was right, no doubt about it, his reputation had come home to roost. “I don't suppose,” he said, “there's any way of keeping the entire affair hushed up?”

“I don't see how, not with the entire county alerted to both your and Sabrina's disappearance. It must come out. Don't forget Richard Clarendon.”

Phillip rose and began pounding mercilessly at the dough. He looked down at the white flour on his hands and smiled despite himself. He repeated to Charles the same words he had spoken to Sabrina. “I've done well by her, you know. I'll speak to Richard. Perhaps he'll believe me. Perhaps he'll still want to wed her. He is a marquess. That's certainly got more cachet than a measly miserable viscount.”

“Yes, by all means speak to Richard. But I wouldn't count on him slapping you on the back, kissing both your cheeks with gratitude, and telling you he believes you saintly enough to be a vicar. No, Phillip. I'm sorry, but I think you must prepare yourself. In any case, it's time you wed. You need an heir. Even Rohan Carrington is married. It's your turn now.”

Phillip cursed fluently.

Charles said, “It's the right thing to do, the honorable thing.”

“Honor bedamned,” he said, and sent his fist again into the dough.

“One can't bedamn honor.”

Elaine bedamned my honor, Phillip thought with sudden bitter memory. His mind raced over the years, years he'd spent by himself, concerned with only his pleasures. He said slowly, “I suppose you're right. Someone must see to her. I have the distinct impression that left to her own devices, Sabrina Eversleigh would fall from one scrape into another. At least I can hold her on a tight rein.”

To Phillip's surprise, Charles laughed.

Phillip raised an eyebrow. “I am eight years her senior. I will deal well with her.”

“You've known her for less than a week, Phillip. And she's been ill. You'll have to ask Margaret about all the mischief Sabrina led her into over the years. Yes, I think you've spoken too soon. Sabrina is no malleable sheep, Phillip.”

Phillip thought about her outrageous attempt to escape from him the night before. “She'll obey me. I haven't a doubt about that.” He formed the dough into two loaves and slid them into the oven.

“You will join me for lunch, I trust, Charles. We must decide what is to be done. When Sabrina wakes up, I shall inform her.”

Charles didn't remain to have luncheon with the viscount, the two men having decided that Sabrina's grandfather should be informed at once and the search halted. Phillip heard her awaken some two hours later. He prepared a tray and made his way upstairs to her bedchamber.

He didn't know if he felt more sorry for her or for himself. Both of them were caught in a trap of societal rules. He didn't see any escape. He'd done his best, gone out of his way, and it had gotten him a wife.

A wife.

He didn't want a wife. He was too young, too fond of doing exactly what he pleased whenever he wanted. Rohan Carrington had married, and he was so content it annoyed Phillip down to his toes. And made him just a bit envious, truth be told. But marrying a woman he'd selected was one thing; having a woman foisted on him was quite another matter. Still, there was no choice. He wasn't a villain; he wouldn't let a young lady be ruined when it was in his power to unruin her.

By the time he reached her bedchamber, he had pretty much accepted the consequences of his good deed. Sabrina Mercerault, Viscountess Derencourt. It had a certain ring to it. It wouldn't be all that difficult to be wed to her. Those violet eyes were unique and
really quite lovely. As was the rest of her, which he'd seen at great length.

He found he was rather looking forward to her reaction when he told her that he knew who she was. She'd been a stubborn witch. He decided that he didn't dislike her stubbornness, certainly not a bad quality in a wife—if controlled. Yes, she would suit him as well as any other female. Better than Elaine would have suited him, that was certain, at least he prayed it was certain. Sabrina was lovely, she was bright. Few men knew their future brides as well. Yes, everything would be all right. She would become his wife as soon as it could be managed.

He stepped through the doorway of her bedchamber. She was looking away from him, toward the window. Bright afternoon sunlight poured through into the room, making her auburn hair a nimbus of fiery red around her head.

After they were married and she was safe, he would have to tell her that he had no intention of changing his life. Surely she would understand. Theirs wasn't a love match, but a marriage of convenience. No, he would continue as before and she would accept her role in his life and in society. She would do quite well.

She turned back from the window and closed her eyes. Her nose twitched. She said, “I know I smelled viscount's bread. I don't care if it's flat as my hand, I'll eat the whole thing.”

Phillip smiled at her with new eyes, and set the tray down on the bed. “I brought an entire loaf.”

There was soup, a bowl of honey, and his bread that she was eating as fast as she could get it in her mouth. Good, she was so thin. It worried him. When he took her to Dinwitty Manor, Cook would regard the new mistress with a zealot's eye and Sabrina would have to be careful, as he always was when staying in
his country home, not to become fat as a stoat within a week. She was chewing vigorously when he said, “Eat all you want, you need it now, but be advised that I don't want a fat wife.”

She stopped chewing. She stared at him, then shook her head and chewed faster. She swallowed, choked, and quickly drank down the glass of water on her tray.

She wiped her eyes and looked at him hard. She cocked her head to one side. “Excuse me, Phillip, I surely must have misunderstood you. What did you say? Perhaps you could say it again so that I could hear it aright this time?”

“As you will, Lady Sabrina.”

“I told you I don't like that, Phillip.”

“Very well. You may have your way for a while longer.” He sat down beside her and took her hands in his. Her fingers were sticky with honey. “Sabrina, will you marry me? Will you be my wife? We've known each other for a full five days. I think we could do well together. What do you say?”

“Marry you,” she repeated, never looking away from him.

“Yes. Just listen. We actually know quite a bit about each other. We've only disagreed when you've shut me out. That would have to end. You would have to trust me, to admit me into all your thoughts. Do you think you can do that?”

“You don't know what you're saying. Why are you doing this to yourself? Why do you want to marry me? I'm a stranger to you. You haven't any idea who I am or what I'm like or—”

“I know enough. Now, will you marry me?”

She gazed at him intently, trying to understand why he was doing this. It made no sense. She realized immediately, of course, that it would solve all her problems. She'd be free of Trevor. She'd be free of
Elizabeth. She could visit her grandfather without worrying about either of them hurting her. She wouldn't have to deal with Aunt Barresford whom Elizabeth had called an old dog. Why was he doing this? It made no sense at all. She said aloud, “No, Phillip, of course I won't marry you. Perhaps you'll be good enough to tell me why you asked me in the first place. Ah, I understand. Goodness, I guess my head is still fogged with sleep. I'm sorry it took me so long. You're obviously trying to protect me, but I assure you that isn't necessary.”

“You need protection more than my lame cat, Dorkus.”

“Why is she lame?”

“That's not to the point. Forget I said that. Dorkus went to cat afterlife five years ago. She managed to tip the years at twenty before she took her leave. Now, would you rather have Richard Clarendon, Sabrina? Is it because he's a marquess and is very probably richer than I am?”

“Richard,” she said blankly. “Richard Clarendon? Of course I don't prefer him. I scarcely even know him. It's true that he visited us rather frequently during the summer.” Her voice dropped off like a stone off a cliff. “Oh, dear, there's more to this, isn't there? How do you know about Richard?”

“Charles Askbridge has been here.”

She nodded slowly and began tearing up the rest of the bread. He knew everything then.

“Yes, now everything is blindingly clear to me. It was Charlie who mentioned Clarendon and made me remember why it was that the name Eversleigh was so familiar to me. I thought it was a connection to your father, but it wasn't. Richard told me himself, some three months ago in London, that he wanted you, that he was waiting only until you reached your
eighteenth birthday. I brought Richard's name into this to see if you had any tender feelings toward him. If you did, why then you would simply marry him, not me.” He rose and sat down in the chair next to her bed, a chair he'd grown quite used to over the past five days. “Yes, I see that you understand everything now. Poor Charles, if only you had seen his face when he walked in here to see you sleeping in my arms and me staring at him ready to leap at him and tear out his throat.”

“Why?”

“Why was he here? The caretaker for this house was scared that villains had taken over the house. Charles came to see what was going on. Although he wasn't overly surprised to see me, his shock at seeing you made him speechless for a good three minutes, a record for Charles. In short, Sabrina, Charles is off to tell your grandfather that you are all right and to fetch a carriage so that we can go back to Monmouth Abbey.”

She turned whiter than the sheets. “Oh no. I can't go back there, Phillip, I can't. I won't. You can't force me back there.”

“It's time you told me exactly what happened. It's time you told me all about Trevor and Elizabeth and why your grandfather couldn't protect you.”

He already knew everything, but he wanted it out of her mouth. “There's no need for me to tell you anything.”

“Trust is a very important thing, Sabrina. I demand your trust. Yes, I know that Trevor is your grandfather's nephew and heir and that he's married to your older sister Elizabeth. Now I want you to tell me the rest. I must know everything so that I can protect you.”

“I really hoped Elizabeth would be happy.”

He said nothing, merely nodded at her, his hands folded in his lap, and waited.

She looked at him straightly. “Trevor tried to rape me. But you know that.”

“All right. The important thing is that he failed. Now tell me the rest of it.”

“I thought when he first came to Monmouth Abbey that he was well enough, that he was charming, that he truly cared for Elizabeth. To be the future Countess of Monmouth was the most important thing in life to her. She floated about the Abbey, she was so pleased. But none of us saw beyond his handsome face and charming manners.” She paused a moment. It was odd, but just thinking of him, saying the words to describe him, frightened her. She said, “It's odd. He's very handsome. He's slender, beautifully mannered, but he looked kind of soft, like a woman would look. The truth of the matter is that he's vicious and cruel. He seems to delight in inflicting pain. He trapped me in the picture gallery, away from the family and the servants. He would have succeeded in raping me had he not become overly excited, and thus for the time being, unable.”

“You mean, he—”

“Yes, I suppose what you're thinking is what I mean. There was a big stain on his britches and he was all out of breath and seemed suddenly weak.”

Thank the good Lord that the bastard hadn't been able to control himself. “Yes, I understand. Go on.”

“I hurt him, but not badly. After he, well, lost himself, then I ran away.”

“You mean you didn't take one of the portraits off the wall and hit him with it?”

“No. I wish I'd thought of it but I was just too afraid. I was a coward.”

“No, you're not a coward. You were scared. It was
understandable.” Rage was pouring through him but he knew it wouldn't help her at all to see it. It was very difficult to keep his voice calm. “What did you do then?”

“I went to Elizabeth and told her what Trevor had done. I could even prove it. He'd hit me again and again on the face. I looked frightful. There was no way she couldn't have believed me. But she refused to take my part. It was then that I realized that she's always disliked me.”

Jealous, Phillip thought, the bitch was so jealous that she'd protect that bastard before she'd take care of her little sister. The rage nearly overflowed. He looked down. The last thing Sabrina needed was to see him red in the face with murder gleaming in his eyes.

“Elizabeth told me that if I went to Grandfather with my ridiculous story she would swear that it was I who tried to seduce her husband. She said it would be the two of them against me, and Trevor was Grandfather's heir.

“Then she reminded me that just such a disaster as this might topple Grandfather into his grave and if that happened, it would be my fault. I knew then that I couldn't stay at Monmouth Abbey. Trevor had told me he'd come to my bedchamber and that I'd better not lock my door against him. There was no one to stop him, least of all Elizabeth, his wife.

“I couldn't stay. I had to protect my grandfather and I had to protect myself.” She raised bleak eyes to his face. “I should have returned to the Abbey after my horse went lame, but I couldn't, I just couldn't. It hadn't started snowing. I believed I could get to Borhamwood in time to catch the stage to London. I got lost and became ill in the cold. You found me.”
Such a pitiful tale, she thought, staring down at her hands.

“When you return to the Abbey, you won't be alone. I'll be with you. You know, of course, that I want to kill Trevor.”

“Yes. That's one reason I didn't want you to know anything. Phillip, try to understand. He's the future Earl of Monmouth. There is no other male to inherit the title. You can't kill him. Please promise me that you won't.”

“I'm grinding my teeth over that one,” he said, then stretched out his hand and took hers. “I promise, but it will be difficult. No, when we go back, I'll be with you. I won't let you out of my sight. If you will consent to be my wife, I'll have you out of that ménage within a week.”

“Marry you? Oh no, I'd never do that, never. It wouldn't be fair, it wouldn't be honorable. I thank you for all you've done for me. Indeed, you saved my life. You guarded me and nursed me. I don't want to go back to Monmouth Abbey. I ask you for one more favor. Please escort me to Borhamwood so that I may take the stage to London, to my aunt Barresford. It is the only solution, the best solution. This is a favor I'm asking, since you owe me nothing.”