Authors: Catherine Coulter
Jesperson, the earl's valet, opened the door to the vast bedchamber and sitting room. “Oh, my, it's you, Lady Sabrina. Welcome home. Ah, this is a wonderful surprise for all of us.” Jesperson, normally quite solemn in the presence of any member of the family, was actually smiling at her, lightly touching his fingers to her shoulder. “Let me tell his lordship that you're here. Oh, he'll be so pleased. You can dine with him.”
She took his large hand between hers. “Thank you, Jesperson, for taking care of him, for protecting him.”
A flash of deep emotion crossed his face, then he was calm again. “This way, my lady.”
Childhood memories stirred as Sabrina followed Jesperson through the sitting room to the long, rectangular bedchamber beyond. The small treasures she'd collected in her younger days and presented proudly to her grandfather were still displayed atop a huge mahogany desk: colored rocks from the streambed, polished by the rushing water to a smooth surface; a string of amber beads left her by her mother; a tattered kite whose long cloth tail lay wrapped limply about it.
Her grandfather's bedchamber hadn't changed since before she was born. It was dominated by dark blue damask hangings. Thick Turkey carpets covered the planked floor, swallowing the sound of her heeled
slippers. The earl sat in his chair before the roaring fireplace, wrapped in his favorite velvet burgundy dressing gown, his twisted fingers clutching the arms.
“Grandfather,” she said very quietly so as not to startle him. When he turned and saw her, she saw the love for her in his dark eyes. She shouted and ran to him, hurling herself at his feet, her arms going around him.
She felt his gnarled fingers stroke her hair, and she pressed closer and laid her head upon his legs.
He was long silent, and Sabrina felt sudden fear that he had believed Trevor and Elizabeth's stories about her. In her letters to him, she hadn't written of what had happened, fearing to hurl him into a confrontation. She raised her head slowly and gazed into his fierce blue eyes.
“You are so very much like her,” the old earl said, the tips of his fingers gently tracing her jaw, her nose, her eyebrows. “It's such a pity that you never knew your grandmother. Camilla had such grace, such goodness, just as you do. And those eyes, they are her eyes as well, Sabrina.” He gave her a grave smile, his twisted fingers cupping her face. “You're a beautiful, vibrant woman, Sabrina. I am very pleased to see you, relieved, truth be told. Is your husband here? I must look him over, you know, make certain that he is indeed the sort of man to deserve you.”
Jesperson said from beside the earl's chair, “Dinner is here, my lord. My lady, would you please sit in this chair? Then you may continue conversing while you eat.”
But Sabrina didn't want the formal chair. She eased down on her grandfather's footstool, where she'd spent so many happy hours. Of course then he hadn't been ill. No, he'd be working at his desk, dealing with
family matters, with estate matters, vigorous and boisterous and laughing.
“You're looking well, Grandfather,” she said, watching him eat a small bite of roasted chicken in Cook's famous cream sauce, quite in the French way, Cook would say with a superior smile.
“I'm but an old eagle chained to his nest, Sabrina. Even my spirit grows weary.”
She laughed and said, “You're an old poet who loves the simile and I refuse to allow you sole claim to tired spirits.”
“What does a girl like you know about weary spirits and such?” Then he frowned. “You've seen your sister?”
“Yes.” She tried to keep all feeling from her voice, but the earl had known her since she was born. He wasn't having it.
“She's become even more a whining termagant now that she's married to that scoundrel. Bedamned, if only I'd seen through him. I could have protected all of us.”
“Please eat, Grandfather.”
He forked down a bite of potatoes. “She's not happy, but then, how could she be?” The old earl looked away from her, toward the fireplace, where comfortable flames flared and danced. “Elizabeth won't ever be happy, Sabrina. I should have realized that long ago, but I didn't. I thought all she needed was a husband. I looked upon Trevor and believed him a gift from a beneficent God. More fool I. But you see, even if she were married to a kind man, she would still be miserable because she dislikes herself.
“I did give her what she wanted. She is now mistress of Monmouth Abbey. Someday she will be the Countess of Monmouth. She has always wanted to be the great lady, lording it over those about her, but it has
brought her nothing. No, less than nothing. Now her misery is based on the behavior of someone outside herself. It is a pity, Sabrina, but there is nothing anyone can do about it.”
Sabrina laid aside her tray. She slipped back to the floor, nestling her cheek against the earl's dressing gown. She felt the skin of his leg stretch against the bone.
“She never comes to me anymore,” the earl said, his fingers patting her hair. “It's probably because she feels guilty. No, don't look so surprised, Sabrina. Now you've insulted me. How could you ever imagine that I'd believe the filth she and Trevor told me.
“In all truth, I'd like to kill him, but then my family would be done. But perhaps it would be best if the line died with me. It makes me shudder to think of the sort of children Trevor and Elizabeth will have.” He paused a moment, still running his fingers through her hair. His breathing sounded calm, normal. It relieved her enormously.
“I remember when I brought that honey-voiced pretty boy here to Monmouth Abbey. I believed he was a fop, but harmless for all that. He's not, Sabrina. I know that it's your husband's hand and Richard Clarendon's that keep him from murdering me. Still, it grates that I could have been so wrong with respect to his character.”
Was he seriously considering killing Trevor? She didn't know. She'd never thought of her grandfather in a way that would allow him to do such a thing. She leaned back, looking up at him. “Thank you for believing me.”
“Your husband told Jesperson what had happened. Jesperson told me. I'm in your husband's debt for all my days, Sabrina.”
She paused just a moment, just a veritable instant.
“Phillip is very kind. He is honest and honorable. Oh, enough of this. We are together again and I want us to talk and laugh the way we used to until you groaned with weariness and finally sent me to my bed.”
“You came home because you have no place else to go.”
She couldn't look away from those eyes of his that seemed to see everything both outside and inside her all her life. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. How could he know that she'd left her husband? She tried to smile, but it wasn't much of a success. “Could you read Grandmother Camilla's thoughts?”
“No, love, but I read what you didn't write to me in your letters. I know you very well, Sabrina. There was little joy in the words you wrote, then there was none at all. If I hadn't been tied here, I would have been in London immediately. Probably I would have challenged that viscount of yours to a duel.”
“No, I doubt you would have done that.”
“Well, possibly you're right. Richard Clarendon told me all about him.”
“Richard? He praised Phillip?”
“Richard also is an honorable man. He told me the truth. By the time he'd finished, I felt as if I knew your husband. I can't tell you how relieved I was, Sabrina, that you didn't fall into the hands of another rotter, like Trevor.”
“Oh no, Phillip isn't a rotter by any stretch of the imagination. So now you know what sort of man he is.” She paused a moment, looking at the dancing flames in the fireplace. She said slowly, “It's just that London, all that fine society, it's very different, Grandfather. I didn't do well there. Actually, I did until it came out that I'd spent the five days with Phillip and
everyone called me a trollop. No, it's the rules there. I don't understand them. I couldn't live with them.”
“What rules?”
“Phillip wanted his freedom. He has a mistress. Her name is Martine. He makes no secret of it. I just couldn't accept it.”
“I see.”
“Only if Phillip hadn't
damaged
me. Can you believe that word, Grandfather?
Damaged
. As if I were something that could be torn apart, like a bundle. It's difficult to accept that people think like that, but they do. Not just men, but women as well.”
She stared down at the faded pattern in the carpet. “Phillip is generous, Grandfather, and as I said, he's kind and honorable.”
The earl nodded for her to continue.
“We fought. I never thought anyone could rival your temper, but Phillip does.”
“You fought about his mistress?”
“Among other things. It wasn't well done of me. You see, when I made him an offer to marry me, I told him he could have his freedom.”
The old earl would have choked if he'd been drinking anything. “You told this young man that he could continue bedding women who weren't his wife?”
“Yes. He rudely told me that he already had his freedom, that he'd do just as he pleased. And he did.”
“And that's why you left him?”
She was so transparent, she thought, looking down at her short, blunt fingernails. “Actually, I love him. He doesn't love me. He is responsible for me. He protects me, but he doesn't love me. Oh, Grandfather, I did the most terrible thing to him, and yet, I know that I would do it again. That's why I had to leave. I knew I could never accept the other women.”
“What did you do? Something outrageous and worthy of an Eversleigh?”
She smiled, but it quickly turned into a moan. She buried her face in his dressing gown. “I went to his mistress's rooms and found them together. No, he wasn't actually in bed with her nor was he naked. She was, or very nearly. I went mad. I kicked him in the groin, Grandfather, then I ran back home. He found me there. He didn't retaliate, didn't hurt me at all, regardless of what I'd done to him. But I knew at that moment that it was all over.”
“Oh, my God,” the old earl said. “You kicked him? There?”
“Yes, I brought him low. I didn't realize that it would be so awful for a man to be kicked there.”
“There is no worse a place to be kicked.”
“After he left me at home, I knew I couldn't remain. Everything was in a shambles. There was no hope, else I would have stayed. So I left the next morning. I hired a carriage and came here.”
The earl looked thoughtfully into her violet eyes, Camilla's eyes. He thought it likely upon brief reflection that his ferociously loyal and loving wife would have done the same to him had he been inclined to take a mistress, which had never even occurred to him to do.
The earl leaned forward in his chair and took one of her hands into his. “You love him, with all your heart? You would give your life for him? You would do your best to protect him, no matter the cost?”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “Is he a blockhead then? Hasn't he the brains to see clearly and deeply into things? Into people? Surely a wifely kick in the groin should have convinced him of your feelings.” He wished that he'd actually met the viscount. He stroked her rich auburn
hair, now tumbled down her back. “Well, I suppose we'll just have to wait and see what happens.” He looked into the orange flames in the fireplace and saw another face, so like Sabrina's, from a past that had long since turned to ashes and memories. “I've told you this before. You are Camilla's granddaughter. Believe me, Sabrina, no man who knew her would have ever willingly let her go. Once I saw her, once I
really
saw her, I never did.”
Ribble pulled open the front doors and stared at the gentleman in front of him. He grinned. He laughed. He held out his hand, surely not what a butler should do, but he didn't think, just did it.
Phillip didn't hesitate. He shook the man's hand. “It's good to see you again, Ribble.”
“Thank you, my lord. Oh, dear, this is passing strange and yet wonderful, don't misunderstand me. Her ladyship will be so very happy to see you. She didn't tell us precisely when to expect you. But you have come so quickly. Do come in, my lord. Yes, let me take your greatcoat and your gloves. Yes, this is a happy day.”
“You're right. Her ladyship will doubtless be very surprised to see me.” Phillip looked around the huge entrance hall. He saw a door open, heard the rustling of silk. There was Elizabeth. She didn't say a word until she stood a foot from him.
“So, you've come.”
He gave her a mocking bow and smiled at her, showing his teeth. “Of course. I trust you've taken good care of my wife.” Now he would find out what Sabrina had told her damned sister. He waited, all calm and composed, an eyebrow arched.
“She only arrived yesterday evening, my lord. She went immediately up to her grandfather. I've scarce
had time to even see her. I doubt she even left his room last night.”
“Well, that wouldn't be surprising, now would it, Elizabeth?”
“I don't know what you're talking about, my lord.”
“Don't you now? A very beautiful young girl just might fear becoming a victim to roaming villains in the halls. She could be afraid that one of those villains might try to break into her bedchamber.”
“That's ridiculous. There are no roaming villains here. But were I to guess, I would have to say that your metaphor was rude.”
“It wasn't a metaphor.”
She froze. He waved his hand. “All right, no more, Elizabeth. The earl continues to improve?”
Elizabeth got hold of herself. She even managed to shrug. “Naturally. Everyone lives and breathes to see that he continues to do so. He will outlive all of us. I will be the Countess of Monmouth, yet sometimes I wonder if I will enjoy it if I only gain it when I'm an old woman.” She shrugged again. “Undoubtedly the arrival of his precious Sabrina has made him feel even better.”
“I've found that Sabrina's presence enlivens the spirits of most around her. Where is she, Elizabeth?”
“With the earl, I would imagine. As I told you, she hasn't left his rooms, as far as I know.”
“I should be delighted to escort his lordship to the earl, my lady,” Ribble said.
Elizabeth merely waved them away.
“Perhaps I shall see you later,” Phillip said as he turned to follow Ribble up the great staircase. “Oh, I should also enjoy seeing your sterling husband again. Does he flourish?”
“He will always flourish.”
Was that a note of bitterness he heard? “That's a pity,” he said. “But you know, I'm not surprised.”
Phillip dismissed the butler with a pleasant smile and knocked on the earl's door.
“My lord!”
“Good day to you, Jesperson. How goes the earl?”
“Ah, the laughter I've heard since Lady Sabrina returned. He is smiling again and he has so much more strength. Don't get me wrong. He will be very happy to see you as well, I'm sure of it.”
Phillip wasn't quite as sure as Jesperson was, but he only nodded. He wondered what Sabrina had told her grandfather.
As they walked through the sitting room to the bedchamber beyond, Phillip asked quietly, “You've had no interference in your care of the earl?”
“None whatsoever, my lord, not since you and the marquess came to see Master Trevor.”
“So the little worm has kept his distance?”
“A very goodly distance,” Jesperson said, and grinned widely. “I hear him carp and whine outside the door, but he never tries to push his way in.”
“Is my wife with the earl now?”
“No, my lord. He sent her away about an hour ago. Wanted her to get some color in her cheeks, he said. She's always loved the outdoors.”
“She's riding?” Phillip asked. “It's very cold outside, Jesperson.”
Jesperson shook his head. “No, my lord. She said something about visiting Miss Pixel's new kittens in the stables.”
“You mean the damned cat isn't even married?”
Jesperson laughed. He opened the adjoining door to the earl's bedchamber and motioned the viscount into the room. Phillip drew to a halt and looked at the old man who sat hunched forward in a chair by the
fireplace, a tartan blanket wrapped about his legs. The earl turned his head slowly and the viscount found himself staring into a pair of lively blue eyes, sunk beneath a craggy brow. He looked like a tough old bird. Phillip smiled at him.
“You, I presume, are Sabrina's husband?” the earl said in a rich deep voice, a strong voice, not that of an invalid.
Phillip walked forward and took the earl's twisted fingers in his hand. “Yes, sir, I'm Sabrina's husband. Phillip Mercerault.”
“Sit down, my lord.”
Phillip did as he was bid, and sat on a faded brocade chair opposite the earl.
“Forgive my travel dirt, sir. I didn't wish to take the time to change.”
The earl waved an indifferent hand. “Richard Clarendon told me good things about you, my lord. He said you were a man of honor, no matter that you'd poached upon his preserves.”
“Richard and I have known each other since we were boys at Eton. I'm pleased he didn't paint me as another devil to you.”
“Oh no. The dear lad wanted desperately to kill Trevor, to strangle the cur, he told me. He said you'd told him he could kill Trevor only after you were done with him.”
Phillip laughed. “That's close enough. Is Sabrina all right, sir?”
“Well, now, my lord, she will be vastly surprised to see you though I must admit I'm not.”
“Yes, she will be surprised. She has yet to recover her confidence from the drubbing she took in London. Also, she doesn't seem to understand what effect she has on people, particularly the effect she has on me. I'm here to fetch her home.”
The viscount was handsome, the earl would give him that. He was well spoken, well made. There was no cruelty in his face, no signs of discontent, or displeasure at what he was. He was a man's man, but with the charm to seduce the skirts easily off any woman he set his sights on. Perhaps he'd been like Phillip Mercerault when he'd been young. He honestly couldn't remember the man he was before Camilla had come into his life.
A man's hands told him a lot as well. They were strong hands, well formed. Capable hands. The earl approved of what he saw. He said slowly, his eyes going back to the viscount's face, “You've set yourself a goodly problem, lad. Sabrina just might not choose to go back with you. This is her home, you know, and I won't force her to return with you if she doesn't wish to.”
Phillip, tired to his bones, so worried he was nearly cross-eyed, sat forward in his chair, his hands clasped between his knees, and said, “Forgive me, my lord, for being blunt, but Sabrina is my wife, and will do as I bid her. She isn't yet in the habit of obeying me, but perhaps that will change once she understands what I'm about. Yes, I'm here to get her. That's an end to it.”
The earl's blue eyes twinkled. “It surprises me, lad, that my granddaughter hasn't taken a whip to you, called you a tyrant, and tried to shoot you.”
Phillip smiled, a pained smile. “Actually, she kicked me in the groin. It wasn't pleasant. I thought I was going to die and for a few minutes there I would have welcomed it. I don't know how I can smile about it now. I suppose it's because I'm here and have nearly got her again and I know that she didn't render me impotent.”
The earl couldn't help himself. He laughed out loud.
He squared his shoulders at the quick burst of pain, a bit difficult, but he managed it. He said quickly, seeing the look of concern on the viscount's face, “Keep your seat, my lord. Age and infirmity are a damned bore, but it's what awaits all of us. What is of the most importance now is my granddaughter. She spoke of you as being kind, my lord, kind and noble.”
“She has alternately yelled at me that I'm a conceited ass, then tried to strangle me with what she perceives as my blasted nobility. It will stop.”
“You didn't wed Sabrina out of duty then? Nobility, if you will?”
Phillip was silent for a moment. He said, finally, “There are rules, sir, codes of behavior that must govern society, else we might well find ourselves back in trees and caves, wearing animal skins. I suppose that in the beginning my offer of marriage to Sabrina was motivated by a sense of duty. She refused me upon several occasions. As you are undoubtedly aware, it was her imminent ruin in London society that finally forced her to wed me. It was she who offered for me then. I didn't regret wedding her. I doubt I ever will, even if she strikes me in my manhood again. Well, perhaps I'll entertain visions of strangling her if she does it again. A man can take just so much, you understand.”
“I well understand you. Now, you say you don't regret marrying her. Still, it was a marriage forced upon both of you, by the rules of society. I wonder how such a marriage can flourish if there is nothing else to support it.”
“Sabrina loves me. She told me she did.”
“Did you believe her?” The old earl looked down at his twisted fingers, blast the pain of them. “Or did you just think that she was a little girl playing a woman and it was all just infatuation?”
“Yes, that's exactly what I thought because, you see, I didn't want her to love me. It scared me to my toes, this love of hers that offered me everything. I told her it was just infatuation. I was a fool. I freely admit it. I plan to tell her that, as soon as I get my hands on her.”
“She's very proud. She's also very stubborn, just like her grandmother. That woman would get something mired in her mind and it would take the earth tilting to change her opinion. I wish you luck.”
“These two qualities make us well suited, I think.”
“Possibly. But it will lead you both to ferocious ragtag fights. Doubt it not, my lord.”
“Just so long as she doesn't try to destroy my manhood, she can screech at me as much as she wishes. Actually, she excels at hurling things such as jam pots, plates, and such, at my head.” Phillip rose then. “Sabrina did me a great disservice by leaving London before I could speak with her again.” He frowned. “Actually, that's not exactly true. I left her. I was sunk in a sinkhole and couldn't get my brains together. It's also true that we haven't dealt well together since our marriage. However, it is my intention to assure that she will never again have the opportunity to misinterpret my feelings. Now, if you will tell me where I may find her.”
“And if she refuses to speak with you?”
A singularly gentle smile touched the viscount's hazel eyes. “Then I'll kiss her until she's silly. If I have to I'll even tie her down, then kiss her some more.”
“It's likely you'll find her either in the orchard or in the stables, playing with Miss Pixel's new kittens.”
“I wonder if there's a possible racing kitten among them?”
“Ah yes, even I've heard of the Mountvale racing cat trainers in southern England. It's a wonderful sport
though it has yet to catch on up here in the north. But everyone has heard of the McCaultry Racecourse near Eastbourne. Do you have a racing cat?”
“No, not yet. If she's with the kittens, I'll look them over for possible racing potential. Who says I have to be sanctioned by the trainers? Given time perhaps I could even figure out some of their strategies.”
Phillip took the earl's hands once again into his and pressed them slightly. “I thank you, sir. Sabrina is mine now. I haven't done well by her since our marriage. However, I will take very good care of her from now on. And I will tie her down if I have to. She will listen to me.”
“Perhaps she will,” the old earl said and waved the viscount off. “Good luck. You will need it.”
“I bid you good-bye, sir, for both your granddaughter and myself. We shall comeâtogetherâin a couple of weeks to see you again.” He grinned. “No, I won't kill Trevor, if he doesn't push me, that is. It's just that even thinking about the rotter pushes me.”
Phillip met Ribble downstairs. “You have her ladyship's portmanteau all packed?” He had no intention of spending this night beneath the same roof with her brother-in-law.
“Yes, my lord.”
But she wasn't in the orchard. Nor was she in the stables, playing with Miss Pixel's kittens. He didn't take the time to see if there could possibly be a potential racing cat among the litter.
She was gone, damn her beautiful eyes. Phillip yelled to the rafters.
It was the head stable lad, Elbert, who came running. He said, “Lady Sabrina ain't here, m'lord. She told me to give ye a message.”