The Offer (24 page)

It wasn't what she would have said before Greybar's unfortunate timing, he was sure of that, but for now, she'd dug in her heels. Given the short amount of time she'd had to prepare, she'd done a good job at slamming him into the floor. “Very well. Since it's obvious you have no wish for my company, I shall take myself off. It is one of your duties to plan the menus with Mrs. Hawley. You will tell her that I shall be eating at my club this evening and won't be here for dinner. Good day, Sabrina. I hope you won't choke on your misplaced resentment.”

Sabrina didn't leap on him, though she did have two ready fists. “You never told me if I should buy a small token of my appreciation for your mistress.”

“You will forget that my mistress exists,” he said, and left the dining room before he put her over his knee and pounded her bottom. But he paused, saying over his shoulder, “You will not throw her up to me again. I forbid it.”

He left before she could hurl another pot of jam at him. He'd seen another pot on the table, not far from her right hand.

He was pulsing with furious energy, wanting to pound someone, but seeing no likely candidate. Then he smiled. He would be at Gentleman Jackson's Boxing Saloon in twenty minutes. He spent the next two hours exhausting himself, hurting four men, and sweating until he was blinded with it.

“I would have thought, Derencourt, that you had found more pleasant ways to relieve yourself of such excesses of energy.”

Phillip lowered the towel he was using to mop his face. The Earl of March, not long married himself, was regarding him with a good deal of amusement.

“Good afternoon, St. Clair. I wish you had come earlier, you could have come into the ring with me.”

“And let you pound me into the dirt? I don't think so. Allow both Kate and me to wish you happy on your marriage. We only just returned last evening from St. Clair, else I would have been there to waltz with your lovely bride.”

“My damned lovely bride is at this moment amusing herself with Charles Askbridge. I told her she wasn't to see him but I know, I just know, St. Clair, that she disobeyed me the moment I stepped into my curricle, maybe the instant I had stepped out of the front door, maybe while I was still putting my gloves on. She informs me that Charles isn't a tyrant.”

“And you, I take it, are?”

“Yes, the silly twit, and after all I've done for her.”

The earl looked with some interest at this outburst from a normally self-possessed and rational man. “I suppose it's a stupid question, Phillip, but what have you done for her?”

“Why, I—well, you know, I did save her life.”

“Yes, that was well done of you.”

Phillip stared down at his hands. Damnation, Julien was right. Sabrina had been right. He'd held himself up as a veritable god among men, noble, generous, selfless. He wanted to punch himself. Instead, he just stared at his friend of some fifteen years.

The earl said easily, “It would appear to me that you managed to marry a lovely girl of good breeding and excellent dowry, a lovely girl, who, in the normal course of events, you would have met here in London. Would you have fallen in love with her? Wanted to marry her? Who knows? From what I've heard, she's a beauty. Any number of gentlemen would have pursued her. Would you have been the one to win her? Who can say?”

“Damn you, Julien, I hate it when you're right, not that you're necessarily right in this particular instance, but still, it's an annoying habit you have.”

He flung down the towel. “I'll thank you to keep your valued opinions to yourself. The fact is that she is my wife and it doesn't matter who would have proposed to her if not for this wretched misadventure. She's mine now and she'll do as I tell her and that's an end to it.”

“Charles Askbridge, confirmed bachelor that he is, would likely agree with you. I, on the other hand, will offer you but one more opinion. Don't try to break her to bridle, Phillip. With that, my friend, I bid you good day. I have a wife who adores the ices at
Gunthers. It pleases me to please her. In fact, it makes my innards melt.”

Phillip watched his friend leave the room. He slowly flexed his tired muscles. He hated being wrong. He hated being wrong even more when it was pointed out to him.

 

Sabrina handed her sable-lined cloak to an unhappy Greybar and stood quietly as a footman divested Charles of his greatcoat and gloves.

When they were in the drawing room, waiting for tea, Charles said, “What's wrong with Greybar? I thought he would cry. That, or hit me.”

“He is his master's servant. His master didn't want me to even see you, thus he didn't either. One thing's for certain, this bunch is loyal to Phillip, all the way to their bone marrow.”

Charles walked to the fireplace to warm his hands over the bright blaze. After some moments, he turned to watch Sabrina fidget about the room, unable, it seemed to him, to contain her restless energy. Although he'd thought it odd for her to ask him to escort her to the park, he'd agreed, even managing throughout the afternoon to keep his questions to himself. Sabrina had chattered away so persistently throughout their ride, about the most trivial of topics, boring him until he thought he'd begin snoring on his chest, that Charles was now thrilled that she was at last still. But the fact was he'd known Sabrina all of her life. It hurt him that she was hurt and trying to hide it.

He said, “Where is Phillip? I expected to see him upon our return.”

She turned to face him. Her face was flushed from the cold wind, her hair in some disarray around her thin face. She shrugged, a nice gesture of indifference that didn't fool him a bit. “I have no idea, Charlie.”

“Do you expect him soon?”

“This is his house. I assume he'll come back when it pleases him to do so.”

Anger, not defeat, he thought, and said, “Listen to me, Sabrina Eversleigh, for the past two hours I've been battered by silly chatter that has numbed me to my toes. Now I ask you a simple question as to the whereabouts of your husband, and you turn into a snarling dog. You've only been married for two days. What the hell is going on here?”

“I might have known you'd side with him.”

“Side with Phillip? Dammit, I don't even know where he is. Come on, Sabrina,” he said, softening his voice at the misery he saw in those incredible eyes of hers, “tell me what's wrong. You've known me forever. You know you can trust me. Talk to me.”

Greybar entered bearing the heavy silver tea tray. While Sabrina was fussing with the cups, Charles was left to warm his hands and wonder just what the devil was going on here.

When Greybar bowed himself out of the drawing room, looking as disapproving as a nun in a room of harlots, Charles said, “Now, tell me what happened to make Phillip escape from his own house.”

He jumped when Sabrina yelled, “You see, Charlie, you are siding with him. Why do you automatically blame me? Can't you even consider for a single minute that his absence might not be my fault?”

“No, I won't consider it. I've known you all your life. I'm used to you and the way you think and the mischief you led poor Margaret into for years and years. But poor Phillip, he—”

“Poor Phillip, you say? He's not poor, damn him. He has my dowry, which is magnificent, and he also has my ten-thousand-pound inheritance. Poor Phillip, ha!”

“That's not what I meant and you know it.”

“Very well, your poor Phillip informed me at the breakfast table that he was returning my inheritance to me, so that I would be financially independent.”

“Hang the bastard, I say.”

“Are you telling me, Charlie, that Phillip didn't tell you about our business agreement?”

“A business agreement with you? That makes no sense at all. First of all, gentlemen don't indulge in business, much less indulge in business with ladies.”

She looked down at her hands and began to pull relentlessly at her thumbnail. “After that horrible night at Almack's, Phillip stayed away from me. It was I who approached him about marriage. It was an honorable bargain we struck, Charlie. He gave me the impression that he needed my money, that we had come to an agreement that benefited us both.”

“By all that's holy, surely Phillip wouldn't say anything of the kind. Ever since the Dinwitty heiress back in the early part of the last century, the Merceraults have never needed funds. They've only increased their wealth the past two generations. Phillip needs your money about as much as he needs a case of the hives.”

“I suppose I realized that after this morning at the breakfast table.” She sighed deeply. “I'm an heiress, Charlie.”

“I know that. Naturally you would be. Now, tell me the truth. Well, now you know that Phillip never wanted nor needed your precious money. Lord, he would have followed the same course even if you hadn't a sou. It sounds to me as if you forced him to subterfuge so that he could do the right thing by you.”

“I guess I did know it,” she said in a low voice that made him lean toward her to hear her. “It was all a sham, a lie.”

“I wish you would remember how you turned him down several times. He was responsible for you, even though it was you who plunged him into this entire mess. Well, you certainly didn't mean to, it wasn't at all your fault, but if you hadn't been there, it wouldn't have happened.”

“He'd still be free if not for me. Oh, don't you understand, Charlie? I didn't want him to marry me for those dreadful reasons. I didn't want a sacrificial husband. I wanted to bring him something, anything besides my sullied reputation.”

“If you would just stop worrying about your own honor and think about his for a moment—”

Sabrina felt tears swim in her eyes. She hated them but she couldn't keep them back. She gulped, raising her eyes. “He doesn't love me, Charlie. He would never even have known me, much less married me, if it hadn't been for what happened.”

“Of course he doesn't love you. How could he? The two of you hardly know each other. As for the other, naturally he would have met you, here in London, when you'd come this spring for the season. He probably would have taken one look at you and thrown himself at your feet.” He sat down beside her and patted her shoulder. She turned and buried her face in his neck. “He didn't spend last night—our wedding night—with me. He went to his mistress.”

Charles felt deep waters close over his head. No, surely Phillip wouldn't have done that. Surely. It wasn't as if Sabrina were as ugly as a doorknob. She was lovely. In the next instant, he realized his friend's motive. He patted her back. She wasn't crying, just leaning into him, all boneless, like a child. “Listen, Sabrina. He didn't want to rush you. He wanted to give you time to get over what Trevor tried to do to
you. He didn't want you to be frightened of him. Also you were very ill. You're still so pale it scares me. No, he was being careful of you and your feelings. Don't hate him for trying to do the right thing by you.”

Her bones returned in a flash, her whole body stiffening. Her eyes were narrowed and mean. “Ah, I see it all now. He's so wonderful that he went off and bedded his mistress. It would seem to me, Charlie, that if Phillip were truly the saintly man you've been painting, he wouldn't go sleep with his mistress. He'd have stayed here in his own house, in his own bed. I could have slept next to him. He wouldn't have to touch me, not that saintly man. Or, idea of ideas, he could have slept by himself, the entire night, not just the hours before dawn, which is when he probably returned home. He's a pig, Charlie.”

“No, he's not a pig, trust me on this, Sabrina. The problem is that Phillip is a man who's used to women, he's used to having—” He pulled back, aware of what almost spurted out of his mouth. “I didn't mean that. Just forget it.”

“Yes, I see,” she said slowly, and he thought that she was now in control of herself. It was an unspeakable relief. A crying woman annihilated him. She said slowly, pulling herself together, “That would make sense. Of course Phillip would want to bed a woman at night. It's the way he is. He didn't bed me because he was afraid he'd scare me. Ah yes, now I understand.” She jumped to her feet and began pacing to and fro in front of him. “Then I suppose it's up to me to show him that I'm quite well again and I won't run shrieking out of the bedchamber if he kisses me.”

“There's, er, more to what happens between men and women than just kissing.”

“I know.” Then she whirled about to face him and she was grinning.

Charles just looked at the bright girl in front of him. It was difficult not to burst into laughter. It was a concept that boggled the brain—Phillip Mercerault was going to be seduced by an eighteen-year-old girl who just also happened to be his wife. He hoped she would succeed. He would also say thirteen prayers that she didn't remember Trevor and get frightened.

“But you know, Charlie, I don't know what to do about his mistress. I gave him his freedom, you see.”

“You won't do anything, Sabrina,” Charles said in his firmest voice. “You will let well enough alone. Your courtship with Phillip, it hasn't exactly been conventional. Take everything slowly. That's my advice. Just don't yell at him. He isn't used to it. He's quite used to having women coo at him and kiss him and tell him he's wonderful.”

“Yes, but he has to pay them to do that. He doesn't have to pay me. I'm his wife.” She paused, then added, “Well, he will give me a quarterly allowance.”

“It's true that he pays them, in some cases.” He started to say more but decided against it. Charles smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Yes, let things progress slowly. Just wait, Sabrina. You know that Phillip probably doesn't know what to do any more than you do. Just give him time. He is quite new to marriage.”

“I know, and I suppose I'm an old hand at it. Goodness, Charlie, I'm only eighteen years old.”

“That's true, but ladies seem to know things before gentlemen do, particularly things that involve feelings and such. Yes, Sabrina, keep that tongue of yours leashed. Give him a chance.”

“I'll wager you've never heard Phillip unleash his tongue.”