“Sabrina.” A voice hissed from the night.
She snapped up her head and peered into the darkness. Out of the black, three familiar figures slowly took shape.
She gasped. Benjamin Melville, Reginald Chatsworth and Patrick Norcross emerged from the shadows. “Good Lord! How on earth did you get here?”
“Horses, my dear,” Norcross said lightly, as if discussing a chance rendezvous in the park instead of a meeting in the middle of a desert halfway across the world. “We left them, and what passes for servants in this abominable country, a short distance from here. Chatsworth’s idea. Thought it would be better if we approached you singly, rather than in what’s become a somewhat impressive entourage.”
“Indeed.” Melville nodded vigorously. “We all agreed it would be prudent to speak to you privately.”
“Privately,” Chatsworth said quietly, “seemed best.”
Sabrina stared at her former suitors in total confusion. “Best for what? My lords, you have me at a distinct disadvantage. I am completely baffled by your presence. Why are you here?”
“It was the way he spirited you off—” Melville said.
“Wyldewood, that is,” Chatsworth added.
Norcross nodded. “Naturally, we were concerned.”
“Concerned?” Sabrina shook her head, still failing to grasp the slightest bit of sense in their not quite sensible explanation. “Concerned over what?”
The three exchanged glances. “Wyldewood, of course,” Chatsworth said. “His reputation is notorious. He’s a rake.”
Norcross joined in. “A rogue—”
“A reprobate, Sabrina.” Melville paused in the detailing of Nicholas’s character flaws. Melville always was a fair-minded man. “Although, to give him his due, he does have an excellent reputation in diplomatic circles—”
“He is expected to make his mark in Parliament,” Norcross pointed out.
“Add to that the man’s money. Wyldewood is so plump in the pockets, he could likely buy much of England itself,” Chatsworth said wryly.
“And his word in affairs of honor has never been questioned.” Melville drew himself up in a dignified manner. “Still and all, when it comes to affairs of the heart the man is a scoundrel—”
“A blackguard—” Norcross said.
Chatsworth shrugged. “A cad.”
Astonishment coursed through Sabrina. If she were not already stunned by the trio’s unlikely appearance, their litany of Nicholas’s faults had compounded her amazement. Not that it wasn’t true, of course. Nicholas had spent much of his adult life building the kind of reputation with women that brought a grin of admiration and a pang of envy from even the most straitlaced of men.
“Gentlemen, your words flatter me.” Nicholas emerged from the shadows with a swagger in his step and a dangerous smile on his lips. Sabrina’s heart stilled. Her husband was nearly as well known for his skill with a pistol as his ways with women.
“Nicholas,” she said quickly, “I assume you know Lords Melville and Norcross and Sir Reginald Chatsworth.”
“We are not bosom bows, but I believe our paths have crossed on occasion.” His eyes narrowed. “To what do we owe the unexpected pleasure of your visit here?”
“Well...” Melville tugged nervously at his neckcloth. Absently, Sabrina noted that all three were dressed more suitably for an outing in Hyde Park than for a trek through the hinterlands of Egypt. “Well...”
“Do get on with it, Benjamin,” Norcross said, exasperation in his tone. “The blasted man can’t possibly call out all three of us. He can only shoot one of us.” He glared at Nicholas and his voice faltered. “At a time, that is.”
“Indeed.” Chatsworth’s gaze met Nicholas’s. “He can only shoot one of us at a time.”
“Shoot you?” Sabrina’s bewilderment increased. “Why would he possibly want to shoot you?”
“It’s not at all far-fetched, Sabrina. You see,” Melville drew a deep breath, “we have come to rescue you.”
“Save you,” Chatsworth chimed in.
“From his clutches.” Norcross cast a lofty look at Nicholas. “Before he ruins you completely.”
“Ruins me?” Sabrina’s voice was little more than a squeak.
Melville nodded in agreement. “Destroys your reputation beyond repair.”
“Can one ruin a previously married woman, I wonder?” Nicholas asked with an air of casual curiosity. She threw him a cutting glare.
“Sabrina has never been free with her favors,” Melville said staunchly. “Not like other widows I could name. Her behavior has always been above reproach.”
Nicholas snorted in derision.
Norcross ignored him. “Sabrina, we know you well enough to know you would never go off with this man on your own—voluntarily, that is. Therefore, we assumed—”
“He coerced you in some way,” Chatsworth finished.
“But never fear,” Melville said. “Few in London know of your ill-advised indiscretion. Wyldewood has turned more than a few heads, and no doubt he swept you off your feet in a moment of weakness.”
“One does wonder why he chose this beastly place to spirit her off to,” Norcross said under his breath and nudged Chatsworth. “I would have taken her to Paris or Rome. And Venice is lovely this time of year.”
Melville continued without pause. “However, we have a solution to your problem. There will be little talk and no hint of scandal if you return to London married—”
Sabrina gasped. “Married!”
“Indeed.” Norcross nodded. “To one of us.”
A strangled look of smothered amusement crossed Nicholas’s face.
“Yes, my dear.” Melville took her hand and sank to his knees in the sand. “I have loved you from the moment we first met. I know now I should have pressed my suit harder through the years, but
I somehow thought there would always be time. I assumed one day my chance would come. I only hope it is not too late. Marry me, Sabrina.”
“Marry you?” Her voice was scarcely more than a shocked whisper.
“Stand aside, Melville.” Norcross claimed her hands from his companion. He gazed into her eyes with solemn sincerity. “I shall not get down on my knees, Sabrina. And I am known more for my sharp wit man fine words. But I too have loved you these past years. I should like nothing more than to make you happy and spend the rest of my life doing so. Sabrina, do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
“Your wife,” she said faintly.
“And what of you, Chatsworth?” Nicholas drawled the words sarcastically. “Do you not have a declaration to add to this outpouring of affection?”
Chatsworth’s eyes glittered with an unnamed emotion. He smiled slowly. “Sabrina knows of my feelings. I have offered for her once before. My offer stands.” He nodded at Sabrina, his voice quietly intent. “If she will have me.”
Sabrina stared, speechless.
“If the object of all this noble concern is to save Sabrina’s reputation, I believe you have forgotten one potential husband in your zeal to repair her good name,” Nicholas said thoughtfully. “What about me, gentleman? After all, I am the cause of her ruin.”
“Nicholas,” she said sharply. He smiled innocently.
“Marry you?” Melville sputtered. “Preposterous.”
“Completely out of the question,” Norcross said.
Chatsworth snorted. “Damned idiotic, if you ask me.”
“But, gentlemen,” Nicholas said, “I have always heard it said that reformed rakes make the best husbands. And, we are all in agreement here, that is one title I have earned.”
“Nicholas!” What was he doing? Was he baiting them? Or her?
Melville shook his head. “No, no, Sabrina will never marry you. It would be a disaster.”
“Utter stupidity,” Chatsworth said.
“Ridiculous, asinine, absurd,” Norcross said.
Nicholas looked thoughtful. “Foolish, would you say?”
Rising anger strangled the words in her throat. “Foolish?”
Chatsworth nodded. “Extremely foolish.”
“Foolish is the least of it,” Melville said.
“Indeed.” Norcross nodded. “Only a woman who had lost all her wits would even consider such a notion.”
“Bloody hell!” The blasphemy exploded from her. “I will not stand here and be insulted. I would not marry any of you to save my life. If I had to choose between you four and the gallows, I’d go to the devil with a smile on my face and a song on my lips, knowing full well I was getting the best of the bargain.” She turned on her heel and strode toward the fire, the crimson flames mirroring the fury within her.
“What did we say?” Chatsworth’s question lingered in the dark behind her.
“Never mind that. Did you hear what she said?” The shocked tone of Melville’s voice was unmistakable.
“Indeed,” Norcross said. “Quite appalling for the eminently proper Lady Sabrina. And did you note her attire? Positively scandalous. Although,” a note of appreciation rang in his words, “she certainly does wear breeches well.”
“Sabrina.” Melville and the others hurried after her.
Matt jumped up from his seat beside the fire. “Who in the hell are they?”
“Lord Melville? Norcross? Chatsworth?” Surprise colored Belinda’s words, and she stepped toward the newcomers. “Bloody hell.”
“Belinda!” Sabrina said in a sharp reprimand.
Belinda blushed. “Sorry, Mother.”
“By Jove, Chatsworth, look.” Norcross nodded toward Wynne. Her unbound hair gleamed seductively in the glow of the fire, the flames emphasizing her willowy form. Even her glasses winked charmingly above a pert smile. Norcross stared in appreciation. “Yet another beauty in breeches. There are benefits after all to being in this blasted desert.” Wynne blinked in surprise and blushed, Mart’s eyes narrowed and Sabrina was relieved that Belinda had been unable to find breeches of her own.
Melville’s glance swept across the now intermingled gathering and settled on Sabrina. “Sabrina, my dear, I do not know precisely what we’ve said to overset you so. But we are, one and all, completely serious. Please, grant one of us the honor of your hand.”
Matt grinned. “Her hand? You want to marry her? All of you? Oh, this is rich.” He laughed. “Thank you, Bree. You always were most amusing, and thank God you haven’t lost that gift through the years.”
“Captain,” Wynne said curiously, “is this always the way with adventure? One never knows what or whom to expect next.”
Matt smiled down at her. “Hold your tongue, Wynne, and enjoy it.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I shall have to make note of this.”
Melville ignored them both, gripped Sabrina’s shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “We all care deeply about you.”
“If you have a concern for your own safety,” Nicholas said, his words softly ominous, “I would recommend you let go of my wife.”
Melville tossed him an annoyed glance. “Come now, Wyldewood. We’ve been all through this. Sabrina would never marry you. It would be absurd.”
Norcross nodded. “Completely unwise.”
“Dammed foolish,” Chats worth said.
“As my sainted governess used to say ‘Foolish is as foolish does.’ ” Nicholas’s eyes gleamed with an unspoken threat. “Now, once more, Melville, get your hands off my wife.”
Sabrina twisted out of Melville’s grasp. “I do wish you all would cease discussing me as if I were not here.”
“Discussing... you?” Melville’s eyes widened with astonishment. He glanced from Sabrina to Nicholas and back. “Good Lord, Sabrina, you can’t mean—”
“You’re not saying—” Norcross said.
“You’ve married Wyldewood?” Chatsworth finished.
“That’s precisely what she’s saying.” Nicholas smiled smugly. Sabrina’s hand itched with the desire to slap the satisfaction off his face.
“I scarcely know what to say. This changes everything.” Melville’s expression fell, and sympathy twinged Sabrina.
“It does indeed,” Chatsworth said slowly.
“I say, Wyldewood.” Norcross nervously sidled up to Nicholas. “I rather hope you took no offense at my comment about Sabrina’s appearance in those delightful garments.”
“Rubbish, old man.” Nicholas slapped him on the back as if they were the best of friends, and relief suffused Norcross’s face. “I daresay I can’t chide you for speaking the truth.” His gaze swept Sabrina from head to toe, in a manner that left no doubt in anyone’s mind that expressions of appreciation might well be allowed but no more. She clenched her fists and tightened her jaw at his possessive air.
“Now that Sabrina is taken, Wyldewood,” Norcross glanced speculatively at Wynne, “could I beg an introduction to this charming creature?”
“My pleasure. I would like nothing better than to introduce her to a man with whom she shares a common background and heritage.” Nicholas’s eyes twinkled. The man acted as if he were at a ton ball instead of in the middle of the desert. “Norcross, may I present my sister, Lady Wynnefred Harrington.”
Norcross grasped Wynne’s hand and raised it to his lips. “I am delighted, my dear.”
Matt moved protectively to her side and growled, “I’d drop that hand if you value your life.”
“Captain ...” Wynne said with delight.
Nicholas laughed. “Sorry, Norcross. You’d best do as he asks. He is an undisciplined American. They are rather quick-tempered and unpredictable.”
Norcross sighed, tossed Wynne one last look of regret and stepped aside. Sabrina stared at her husband in disbelief. The man obviously knew about his sister and Matt, and very likely had known all along. Known and permitted their growing attraction by the simple act of pretending not to notice.
“It does appear our attempt to rescue you was ill advised,” Melville said. “My apologies, Wyldewood. I wish you both well.”
“Thank you, Benjamin,” Sabrina said gratefully. “I am truly touched by your efforts.” She nodded at Norcross, standing next to Nicholas, and smiled at Chatsworth, beside Belinda.
“Think nothing of it,” Norcross said loftily, as if a trek across the world and a proposal of marriage were as commonplace as an evening at Covent Garden. “Obviously our presence here is no longer necessary. I suggest we take our leave.”
“Quite.” Melville cast one last longing look at Sabrina. “Although this endeavor has not turned out as I had hoped, it’s perhaps all for the best.” Norcross joined Melville. Chatsworth still lingered on the other side of the fire next to Belinda. “Chatsworth? I believe our business here is finished.”
Chatsworth shook his head slowly. “I beg to differ on that point.” He withdrew a wicked-looking pistol from his waistcoat and aimed it at the assembly. “My business here is anything but finished.”