THE NEIGHBORS and their two young adult daughters returned to Montagu House with the Earl and Countess of Cavendish, on invitation from Cranwell. They were to stay for dinner and the evening. Fanny suggested that they celebrate the extra company with a dance in the drawing room. Hannah's aunt, Lady Phyllis Wright, would play for them on the pianoforte, she was sure.
Lady Wright was applied to anxiously by several of the young people. She readily agreed to play. She was quite used to doing so, she said, coming as she did from a neighborhood where there were many lively young people who were forever wanting to dance.
Sarah had sat at dinner with Joshua Stonewall and unconsciously charmed him with her glowing beauty, her shining eyes, and her sprightly conversation. He had always thought her uncommonly lovely, but tonight she was quite breathtakingly beautiful. Was it that fiance who had put that glow there? he wondered jealously. It was hardly surprising. Laing was easily as handsome as she was lovely. But it did not somehow seem fair. Why should the beautiful always win the beautiful? What did they leave for the very ordinary, like himself?
He was not even sure that Laing quite deserved Miss Fifield. Joshua suspected him of having a roving eye. He had spent much of the afternoon with Lady Fanny, and it was hard to say which of the two had been more intent on flirting with the other. That young lady, in fact, quite deserved a good spanking for seemingly trying to come between another lady and her betrothed. But how could Laing behave so? Lady Fanny was pretty and vivacious, but she could not come close to Miss Fifield in either looks or breeding.
Laing had not even seemed to be content to flirt with Cran's sister. During tea, after they had returned from their ride, he had sat in the window seat with Lady Hannah, somewhat apart from the rest of the group. And they had seemed to be deep in earnest conversation. Cran had not come in until much later. Miss Fifield had come in halfway through tea and seated herself beside that elderly cousin who seemed to be so fond of her. Laing had not moved even then, and she had not seemed perturbed. She had hardly seemed to notice him, in fact. But she had looked wildly happy.
Well, Joshua thought with a silent sigh, perhaps their love for each other was so deep that they did not need to live in each other's pockets all the time. He just wished he had the chance to bring that glow to her face. He would not leave her to her elderly companion while he went off and flirted with other young ladies.
Fanny, too, had noticed the change in Sarah. She had eyed her surreptitiously in the drawing room at teatime while apparently entertaining Captain Penny, Barbara Tenby, and Allan Wright. She had watched her during dinner along the length of the table. She approached her in the blue salon after dinner, where they took tea while the carpet in the drawing room was being rolled back and the furniture moved out of the way.
"Hello, Miss Fifield," she said. "Did you like the library? I must admit it is not my favorite room, but I have been told that it has an unusually excellent collection of books. And George spends a great deal of time there."
"I am afraid I did not go there," Sarah said, "though I greatly look forward to seeing it. I went walking."
Fanny looked a little nonplussed for a moment. "Oh, did you?" she said. "Where did you go?"
"I walked up into the hills again," Sarah said. "The air was so lovely that I could not bear to stay indoors. And the view is glorious."
"You went alone?" Fanny asked.
"Yes." Sarah flushed suddenly. "I have always enjoyed walking alone. Sometimes when one is with someone else, one is so busy talking that one forgets the beauty of the surroundings."
Fanny looked closely at her companion, at her shining eyes, the flush that was still visible on her cheekbones. "George usually rides over the hills when he goes to the bailiff's house," she said. "Did you see him?"
Sarah's flush deepened. "Er, no," she said. "No. I did not see anyone."
"How silly of me to ask," Fanny said. "George did not arrive home until almost an hour after you."
She watched Sarah swallow rather painfully and concentrate her attention on her teacup. Then Fanny's eyes strayed across the room to her brother, who had just entered the room with the gentlemen and was talking to Hannah's mother. He was his usual immaculate, grave self. To a sister who knew him well, though, there was perhaps something about his eyes. A half-smile flitted across Fanny's face for one moment.
"Did you enjoy the ride to the village?" Sarah asked.
"Oh, immensely," Fanny said. "When the vicar saw such a large party disappear inside his church, he came to conduct us himself, and he told us all about the graves. There were so many interesting stories, half of which I had never heard before."
"A Norman church! It must have been interesting," Sarah said.
"I do hope I did not offend you by suggesting that you stay at home to read," Fanny said in a rush. "I did not mean that you would not be welcome to come. I merely thought you would not enjoy so long a ride."
Sarah reached out and touched the girl's hand. "Don't feel guilty," she said, "just because Geor… your brother reprimanded you. You were quite right. And I would not have missed my walk for worlds." She flushed again and looked away.
Winston was walking toward them, a cup of tea in his hand. He was looking particularly handsome, Sarah thought dispassionately, in gold satin knee breeches and coat, sequined white waistcoat and matching stockings and linen. He succeeded in making all the other men took very ordinary.
"How could I resist joining the two most lovely ladies in the room?" he said with his customary charming smile as he approached them. "May IT' He pulled up a chair without waiting for an answer and seated himself facing them both.
Fanny smiled dazzlingly. "Are you not tired after our ride, sir?" she asked.
His eyebrows rose. "When the company was so charming?" he said. "Lady Fanny, I swear the miles seemed like so many yards," Fanny giggled.
"May I be permitted to say that that particular shade of pink suits you to perfection?" he said. "And you, my love." He turned to Sarah. "What can I say? You look more dazzling tonight than I have seen you, I believe. May I hope that my presence has something to do with your good looks?" He smiled confidently at her.
"Thank you, Win," she said. "You are always so complimentary."
She was feeling alarmed. There seemed to be a very definite attraction between Win and Fanny. On Fanny's part, anyway. One could never be sure of Win's feelings, if indeed he had any. Should she have forced herself to go on that ride this afternoon? She had not worried because the party was to be a fairly large one. But she knew from experience that Win could often maneuver one into semiprivacy. Had she given him a whole afternoon's opportunity to win his way into Fanny's affections? She was just a young and innocent girl. She would be no match for his practiced dalliance.
It was her concern for Fanny that made her accept Win's suggestion that they stroll in the garden for a few minutes before the dancing started.
"You look rather flushed, love," he said. "It will be cool outside."
Sarah smiled fleetingly at Lady Murdoch as she passed her on the way from the room, but she did not stop. She ran up the stairs to fetch a warm woolen shawl.
"At last!" Winston said on a sigh of relief when they had stepped out into the courtyard and the door closed behind them. "What on earth has happened to that old tabby, Sarah? One would swear you were a sixteenyear-old virgin all of a sudden. It is as much as I can do to be civil to her."
"Cousin Adelaide?" she said with a smile. "She has grown very fond of me, Win. She never had children of her own, you see, and she has begun to see herself as my mama. She wishes to see me properly chaperoned until my marriage."
"Heaven help us if she keeps up the illusion and starts to visit us every few months when we are married," Winston said. "I doubt if I shall be able to stand it, Sarah."
"You know, Win," she said, "I never really knew my mother, either. I can- sympathize with her. I have begun to think of her, too, almost as if she were my mama."
"Sarah!" he said incredulously, and laughed. "You are bamming me. I don't believe I have ever met anyone quite so excessively vulgar."
Sarah said nothing.
Winston laughed again. "We could tell her a thing or two, couldn't we, Sarah?" he said. "Playing the careful chaperone now is rather like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted, is it not?"
Sarah did not smile. She merely held lightly to his arm and continued their slow progress across the lawn that stretched around two sides of the house.
"I am still smarting from the frustration of yesterday afternoon," Winston said, bending his head close to hers and covering her hand with his own. "Cranwell's timing could not have been worse. Though perhaps it could have, at that. It would have been hopelessly embarrassing had he turned up five minutes later, would it not?"
Sarah bit her lip.
"Let's walk across the bridge," he said. "I think we must have a clear half-hour before the old tabby raises the alarm. We can satisfy ourselves in that time, can we not?"
"Oh no, Win," she said, pulling back on his arm. "Not now. We are both all dressed up for the evening. I have had my hair dressed. We really could not return all disheveled."
"How delightfully prudish you are, Sarah," he said, squeezing her hand and grinning down into her earnest face. "Did you imagine I meant a tumble on the ground? There are other ways of doing what we want to do without emerging looking all rumpled, you know. Come, let me show you."
"No, Win," she said firmly, "you know it is not part of our agreement. I want to wait until our wedding night."
He stopped walking and pulled her into his arms. Sarah's flesh cringed from contact with his chest and his thighs. Her head was bent back so that she was forced to look up into his face.
"Ah, Sarah," he said. "Always the tease. I see that you want to be persuaded. Well, my love, as you know well, I am always willing to oblige. Take as long as you like to admit that you want to come across the bridge with me."
He grinned, and Sarah felt the old nausea intensified as his head bent toward hers. She supposed she would have to submit to his kiss, at least, and probably to some wandering of his hands. There were still four days of their visit left, and she must keep his attention away from Fanny as much as possible and avoid any public unpleasantness that might spoil the house party for George.
"Blast!" Winston said when his lips were a mere breath away from her own. He looked over her head, swung her to his side again, and smiled. "I see that we have set a trend," he called pleasantly across the lawn.
When Sarah looked, she could see Faith Wright and Samuel Tenby, Fanny and Captain Penny walking toward them. There was another couple also approaching at some distance.
Faith giggled. "Naughty, Lord Laing," she called gaily.
Fanny was laughing too. "Would you believe that Lady Murdoch just about shooed us out-of-doors like a crowd of chickens?" she said. "She insisted that the air would add color to our cheeks and give us energy for the dancing."
"And just last night," Samuel added, "I seem to remember her saying that Miss Fifield should not go out-of-doors in the evening air at this time of year. It is deuced chilly tonight."
"Sarah and I were just going to stroll to the bridge and back before going indoors again," Winston said. "Would anyone care to join us?"
It seemed that everyone cared to join them. Sarah could almost have laughed. She and Win walked a little ahead of the others, but she could relax now. Those chattering young people behind them would ensure that he did no more than talk.
"Win," she said when she was sure they were out of earshot of the others, "you have not forgotten our agreement, have you?"
"You mean about not lying with you until our wedding night?" he asked. "It seems to me that it does not matter whether I remember or not, Sarah. The whole world seems to be in conspiracy against us."
"No, I did not mean just that," she said. "I mean the money and our going away together and staying away from the duke for the rest of our lives."
He grinned. "That was your agreement, not mine, love," he said. "It was you and Cranwell who worked that out, I believe."
"But of course you are involved, Win," she said. "You have the money, after all."
"Safely in my keeping," he said. "Given unconditionally, I believe, Sarah, as a token of your love?"
"Win," she said sharply, "you are not planning to cheat me, are you?"
"What a little worrier you are, Sarah," he said. "Whatever do you mean by that?"
"I don't like the way you have been flirting with Fanny," she said bluntly. "You are not thinking of maybe offering for her after all, are you, Win?"
He grinned down at her. "Your green eyes suit you, love," he said. "You are frantic with jealousy, are you not? What if I did marry her, Sarah? We would have double the money or more. And you would know that you are the one I will always love. What does it matter whether you are wife or mistress? They are both only labels, after all. And let's face it, love. Your reputation is already in shreds.
"Oh!" Sarah said. She was almost bursting with fury but was aware-as he undoubtedly was-that there were six people not very far behind them. "You are planning to cheat me. You are planning to marry her.
He laughed outright. "Sarah," he said, "a lifetime is not going to be long enough to appreciate you. You are quite impossibly adorable when you are angry. I really cannot resist provoking you. I shall say this, love, and I think I am safe in making it a solemn promise. I will never marry Lady Fanny Montagu or even make her an offer. Will that satisfy you, you little termagant?"
Sarah brought her fury under control with effort. "I am not sure I trust you, Win," she said. "Leave her alone. She is too young and impressionable to deal with someone like you."
"And you are old enough and experienced enough to handle me to perfection?" he said. "You know just how to excite a man's desires, my love, do you not? Damnation! Look at those inviting trees just the other side of the river. And we have to be trailed by an escort of six!"
This time Sarah could not restrain her own laughter.
Back inside the house everyone had moved to the drawing room, where a large space had been cleared for dancing, and Lady Wright was practicing on the pianoforte. Sarah sat beside Lady Murdoch and smiled at her.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what, dear?" Lady Murdoch asked. "All the young people were looking like wilting flowers. It was clear that all they needed was a breath of fresh air. I merely pointed out to them how sensible you and Lord Laing had been."
"I thank you on their behalf, then," Sarah said.
Lady Murdoch leaned slightly toward her, not a smile on her face. "Are we driving him crazy?" she asked.
"I think," Sarah said with equal seriousness, "that he is in fear and trembling that you mean it when you say that you like to make frequent and lengthy visits to your friends."
"Ah," said her elderly cousin, "then I shall have to assure Lord Laing whenever I may that I consider him my particular friend."
The evening began with a minuet. Sarah could remember learning the steps when she was a girl, but she had been told that the dance was old-fashioned. It was lovely, though, she thought now, and suited very well the grace of Montagu Hall. She, could just imagine the state ballroom filled with ladies and gentlemen in the fashions of a few decades before-wideskirted gowns and tall wigs, frock-coats and buckled shoes. Even today, with modern fashions, she felt, it would be like a dream to be at a ball in that apartment.
She danced with Lord Justin Tenby, George's uncle, and found his stately manner and polished conversation delightful. One could tell easily that he was closely related to George. He might have been her uncle too, she thought with something of a pang. But she refused to dwell on the thought. She intended to enjoy the evening, and did so, dancing every dance with a different partner.
Joshua Stonewall insisted on having some waltzes — played, although several of those present protested that they had never learned the steps. There was almost nothing to learn, Joshua said, and proceeded to demonstrate with Sarah as a partner. She was laughing after a couple of minutes. Indeed, he was right; the dance was easy to learn. But there was something very embarrassing about whirling around a room with a man's hand at one's waist and his other hand in one's own.
"I knew it, ma'am," he said to her after the short demonstration while everyone else chose partners and took to the dance floor to try out the new steps. "You have a natural grace. I would scarcely have known that I had anyone in my arms if my eyes had not constantly beheld your beauty.".
Sarah laughed. "It was little short of miraculous, sir," she said, "that I did not tread on your feet. Then you would have known that you had a partner."
She was enjoying the evening as she had not enjoyed any event since that morning in Bath when Lady Murdoch had discovered her long-lost friend. It seemed perfectly natural when Cranwell came up to her before the third waltz to ask her to dance with him. He bowed formally and looked grave, but Sarah placed her hand in his without hesitation and even smiled.
He felt very right as a waltzing partner. Since he was not much taller than she, her hand did not have to reach very high to rest on his shoulder, solid beneath her touch though he looked so slender. His hand was spread firmly behind her waist so that she could lean back against it, confident that he would guide her safely through the steps. She looked up into his face.
He was looking back, his expression quite unreadable. But she did not think it was hostile. Surely he would not have asked her to dance had that been so. They looked at each other quite openly for fully half a minute before Sarah smiled slightly, felt herself blush, and looked down. But she did not feel uncomfortable. She refused to do so. This was her magical day, and she was not going to allow her own feelings to spoil it.
"You waltz well, Sarah," he said.
"Yes," she agreed, "Mr. Stonewall told me the same thing, and he is something of an expert, I think." She grinned.
"What were you afraid of?" he asked very quietly a minute or so later.
Sarah shook her head. "Nothing, really," she said, and blushed hotly at this reference to the afternoon. "I was merely startled.", "You do not have to be afraid on my land," he said. "There is no one here to harm you."
Sarah said nothing. She kept her eyes on the buttons of his silver waistcoat.
"Unless you see me as a threat," he said. "Did I harm you, Sarah?"
"Oh, no," she said quickly, looking up earnestly into his blue eyes. "No. You did not harm me."
He nodded, and they continued to stare into each other's eyes, unaware for a while of their surroundings.
That one dance was all she saw of him for the rest of the evening. She saw almost as little of Winston. He danced with all the cousins and with Fanny twice. And he danced with Hannah once and sat talking with her during three of the other dances. Sarah, noticing this, was very thankful that Hannah at least was safely betrothed. Otherwise, she would have been as worried about her as she was about Fanny. Perhaps not, though. There was nothing flirtatious in Hannah's manner with Win-nor in his with her, for that matter. But they seemed to find a great deal to say to each other.
Winston made sure that he had the last dance of the evening with Sarah, yet another waltz. Most of the young people, having learned the steps, decided that they enjoyed the dance greatly and demanded more and more of the indefatigable Lady Wright.
"You look as fresh now as you did at the start of the evening, my love," Winston said, "and quite lovely. What is it about you tonight? Is your hair different? Is that a new gown?"
"It is probably just the country air that is agreeing with me, Win," Sarah said.
Winston grinned. "I noticed old Cranwell dancing with you earlier," he said. "Was he giving you a scold, Sarah, suggesting that you leave early, perhaps?"
"He would never be so discourteous to a guest," Sarah said, flushing.
"Ah, no. Cranwell the cold fish, always meticulously correct," he said. "He would probably like to consign you to Hades but feels obliged to ask you to waltz instead."
Sarah did not answer his grin.
"Since you do not seem at all tired, Sarah," he continued, bending his head closer to hers, "shall we put your energy to some use?"
"Whatever do you mean, Win?" she asked, looking up sharply at him.
"I shall come to your room when everyone is safely settled for the night," he said. "It seems to be the only way we can ensure that no one will interrupt us at the last moment."
"You most certainly will not!" Sarah said. "We will not repay hospitality by behaving like that, Win."
"Nonsense!" he said. "We are betrothed, love. Whom are we like to offend by spending the night in the same bed? And I must have you soon, Sarah. I really cannot wait until next week. Be ready for me."
Sarah was frantically trying to remember whether there was a lock on her door.
"I want to see you without all the trappings," Winston whispered into her ear. "And I want to touch you, Sarah, all over. I think you have been too long without me. You seem almost as nervous as you were that first time, when you were a virgin." He chuckled. "Do you remember, love? You were so nervous I almost had to hold you down. You soon learned what delights you had been so afraid of, though, did you not?"
"Not tonight, Win," Sarah said. "I will not allow it. Don't come to me. There is a lock on my door, and I shall be using it." It was a bluff. She really did not know if she told the truth or not. Was there a lock?
For once the veneer of his charm slipped. "You know, Sarah," he said, "when you decide to be coy with me, you have to remember that there are limits beyond which it is not wise to push me. If you are not willing to grant me your favors, there are any number of women who would be only too delighted to do so. I could name one or two in this house right now. Remember that after we are married, my love. Deny me your bed then, and you may find that I shall be reluctant to climb into it at all."
He was speaking very quietly, but even so Sarah gripped his shoulder more tightly. "Don't let us quarrel here, Win," she said. "Someone will notice soon."
His manner changed immediately. He smiled full into her eyes, his own crinkling at the corners. "You are a tease, Sarah," he said. "You see your power over me? Be warned, though. I am not made of iron, you know."
There was a lock on the door. Sarah was very thankful to find the heavy bolt. Had it not been there she would have gone along to Lady Murdoch's room and slept on the daybed there. But she did not really want to do that. Ever since the afternoon she had been looking forward to this part of the day. She had been longing to be alone at last so that she could let her mind go back to the events of the afternoon and assess fully what had happened.
She undressed without the assistance of a maid and brushed out her hair. Then she sat on top of the bed, her knees drawn up under her chin, and let her eyes wander over the green hangings of her bed and the bright foliage and birds on the Chinese wallpaper. She would always remember these few days and this room. Surely it was the most attractive bedchamber in the house, as Fanny had told her. She liked to think that George had deliberately assigned it to her, though more likely he had left the distribution of rooms to his housekeeper.
But he did have some feelings for her. He did not hate her, despite what she had done to him in the past, despite what she had done to him in the last week, taking his money and failing to honor her promise to take herself out of his life forever.
He had shown real concern for her that afternoon when she had been so beside herself fearing that he was Win. He had held her, soothed her, wiped away her tears.
He had made love to her! Sarah hugged her knees closer and rested her forehead against them. Just so many hours ago she and George had made love to each other. She relived the experience moment by moment. It had been perfect, beautiful. Right. Yes, it had been right. There had been nothing ugly or sordid about it, though it should have been both, happening as it had among the trees on top of the hill, each of them betrothed to someone else. But it had been beautiful.
If she had ever doubted the fact, she had only had to feel his lips on hers again to know that it was with him that she belonged. He was her only love, her lover, her husband. Yes, he was her husband. She had married him, vowed to love, honor, and obey him until death. And they were both still alive. She had never broken those vows. She was still married to him. No divorce could ever cancel those vows. Not for her, anyway.
Nothing would ever make her believe that what they had done that afternoon was wrong. It had been very right. She knew he must hate her in many ways. She knew he would regret what had happened, perhaps come to hate her even more for causing him to behave that way. She knew, at least, that what had happened would change nothing essential in their relationship. He would marry Hannah before Christmas, and at the end of this week she would warn him about Win, break off her engagement, and honor her agreement never to see him again. She would honor her vows in that last, final way. But none of what they had done had been wrong.
For the space of a few minutes they had loved each other totally. She knew her own feelings; and she would not doubt his. It had not been just lust on his part. It had not been. It was not just a woman he had been lying with up on the hill. It was she, Sarah. He had used her name more than once. And he had made love to her, worshiped her with his hands and his body. He had not just taken her for his own satisfaction. She had felt worshiped. She had felt loved. And with him she had reached a world of sensual delight that she had not even dreamed of. And he had shared it. She knew that. She had been in a world of ecstasy, but it had not been a private world. He had been there with her. They had known each other both physically and in the way that only the heart can understand. Words could not express it, or even thoughts.
George had loved her. It was a relative emotion, of course. There was a great deal in her that he must dislike, despise, hate. But there, at the core of being, where meanings had their root, he loved her. He always had and always would. Just as she would always love him, though in her case there was nothing to sully the feeling.
She had meant those words she spoke to him after she woke to find him beside her and looking at her. She would never regret what had happened, and she would never feel ashamed. She would treasure the memory for the rest of her life. And somehow that life was no longer a dreadful thing to look forward to. It was true that it would contain a great deal of loneliness and heartache. A great emptiness yawned somewhere in the pit of her stomach already when she let her mind touch on the knowledge that after this week she must never see George again. And soon she would have the added pain of knowing that he had another wife, the vows he had made her past history, no longer existent.
But it would not be a dreadful life. It would have dignity. She had meant it, too, when she told him that she was done with shame. She had done dreadful things in the past. She had made him share in her sin. But somehow she had atoned for that past. She had suffered. She was going to see to it that George's family did not suffer from the fiendishness of Win. And she was going to make it possible for him to forget her existence. He had made love to her that afternoon, almost in recognition of the fact that she was no longer soiled, untouchable. In some intangible way he had cleansed her, restored her self-respect, her confidence in her own basic goodness.
And for that, more than anything else, she would love him for the rest of her days. His courtesy, his gentleness during the evening had been like one extra bouquet. She refused to feel sad or lonely or depressed. Not yet. For tonight, perhaps for a few more days even, she was going to revel in the glow of knowing herself loved. She felt clean again, whole.
Sarah smiled and clasped her knees even tighter. She would not go to sleep. Not all night. It would be such a waste to sleep.