Regency Christmas Vows: The Blanchland Secret / The Mistress of Hanover Square

‘I believe you have already told me, Miss Sheridan!’ Guy was smiling down at her with the wicked amusement that always made Sarah’s pulse race.

‘If you are to accompany me to Blanchland, I trust that you will behave with decorum, my lord!’

‘I think that that is very unlikely. You had best be prepared for the worst!’ Guy turned her hand over and pressed a kiss on the palm. ‘Do not forget,’ he said caressingly, ‘that I still have to persuade you to accept my hand in marriage. I shall be doing my utmost to convince you!’

Sarah wrenched her hands away, knowing she was trembling violently. It was intolerable that he should have such an effect on her!

‘Pray do not persist in this ridiculous jest, my lord! We both know you cannot mean it!’

‘Never more serious, I assure you, Miss Sheridan! As I said yesterday, you will have time to become accustomed to the idea.’ Guy was laughing at her. ‘What you will not have is the chance to refuse me!’

Sarah drew breath for a scathing retort but broke off as the door swung open to reveal the butler, his expression as wooden as the door panels. ‘Luncheon is served, my lord. Miss Sheridan,’ he bowed politely, bending to retrieve the muff, ‘allow me, madam—’

But he was talking to thin air. With a fulminating glance, Sarah had stalked off, leaving Guy still grinning as he watched her indignant figure walk out of sight.

After lunch the sleet turned to light snow that lay like icing across the parkland.

‘Oh, how pretty!’ Amelia exclaimed, as she stood by Sarah in the library and looked out across the hills. ‘If it continues like this, I fear we may have to stay some time!’

Sarah looked exasperated. ‘It is only five miles to Blanchland, Milly! If the worst comes to the worst, I shall walk there tomorrow!’

Amelia’s face fell. ‘Would you not prefer to stay at Woodallan, Sarah? It is so pleasant—’

‘Of course I would rather stay here!’ Sarah said crossly. ‘How could I possibly favour Blanchland over this? The fact is that I have lost a week already since the letter arrived and—’

She broke off, remembering that Amelia was not party to the letter’s contents. Amelia gave her a curious look.

‘Is time a material factor then? I had not realised.’

‘No, I am sorry.’ Sarah looked shamefaced. ‘I did not say…’

Amelia pressed her hand. ‘Time enough for you to tell me all about it when you are ready.’ She gave Sarah a penetrating look. ‘I understand, however, that Lord Renshaw accompanies us?’

Sarah felt the telltale blush creep into her cheeks. ‘So I am told. It was not at my instigation!’

Amelia raised her eyebrows. ‘On his own inclination, then—’

‘No!’ Sarah realised she sounded too vehement and tried to calm down. ‘That is, he tells me that Frank wrote to Lord Woodallan, asking him to help me in my quest. Unfortunately, the Earl is too ill to accompany us, so…’ She shrugged.

‘So Lord Renshaw comes instead!’ Amelia frowned. ‘Are you sure about this, Sarah? It sounds all a hum to me!’

Now it was Sarah’s turn to frown. ‘Whatever can you mean? Of course I am sure!’

‘Only that it seems a little odd. I am not sure why, but…’

‘Yet it must be so. Guy—Lord Renshaw,’ Sarah corrected herself meticulously, ‘knew of the purpose of my visit, and that can only have come from Frank’s letter.’

Amelia shrugged lightly. ‘As you say, my love. I must surely be making a mystery out of nothing!’ She moved across to the writing box. ‘Now, since it is not really the weather to go out, I shall write some letters.’

‘I’ll sit with you and read a book,’ Sarah said, selecting one from the shelves. She settled in an armchair beside the roaring fire, and for a time there was no sound but for the pages turning softly and the scratch of Amelia’s nib on the paper. Sarah, however, was hardly concentrating. Amelia’s words had raised some doubts in her mind, yet she was unsure what it was that disturbed her. Never mind—tomorrow she would reach Blanchland at last and unravel the mystery of Olivia Meredith.

Dinner was another very pleasant meal and was followed by charades and card-playing before bedtime. Lady Woodallan was chatting to Amelia as they ascended the stairs and it was completely by chance that Sarah, trailing a little behind, heard the conversation between father and son in the hall below.

‘You have told her that you will go, then,’ Lord Woodallan was saying as he lit the remaining candles to see them up to bed.

‘I have, sir.’ Guy sounded a little grim.

‘But not the rest? Not about—?’

‘No. It is as you wished.’

‘Good.’ Woodallan sounded relieved. ‘Then you will see to it, Guy. Find Miss Meredith—and make sure that Miss Sheridan does not—’

Guy glanced up at that moment and Sarah shrank back into the darkness at the top of the stairs. Her mind was racing as she puzzled over what she had heard. So what Guy had told her was true, but only up to a point—his father did want him to accompany her to Blanchland, but not simply to give her his aid! Apparently he had his own reasons for wishing to find Olivia, and she was not to be made aware of them…

‘Sarah!’ Amelia called, a little impatiently. ‘Where are you? I am waiting to say goodnight!’

She yawned widely as Sarah hurried up the remaining few steps, then gave her cousin an affectionate peck on the cheek. ‘Sleep well, my love!’

But Sarah tossed and turned for over an hour as she tried to work out what connection the Woodallan family might have with Olivia Meredith and, more importantly, why she should not be privy to it. Her musings shed no light, however, and in the end she fell asleep, to dream that she was chasing a fair-haired girl across the park at Blanchland, but, just before she reached her, the girl disappeared.

Chapter Six (#ulink_975ff11b-0eac-5609-9155-6ac95891f190)

Blanchland stood on the top of a rise, surrounded on three sides by a woodland of tall pines. As the carriage drew nearer, all the occupants could see that it was a supremely elegant house of pinkish stone with a small gold cupola on the roof, where Lord Sheridan had once housed the telescope he had used for astronomical observations. In the morning sunlight, with the bright white fields as a backdrop, it looked very beautiful.

Just seeing the house again almost brought tears to Sarah’s eyes. She blinked hard to keep them at bay and set her mouth in a determined line.

‘I had almost forgot how pretty it is…’

They drove through Blanchland village, huddled at the bottom of the hill, and started the climb to the gates of the house. It was very quiet. The frost glittered in the sun but no one moved in the still landscape. Sarah repressed a shiver.

She knew that Guy was watching her and the sympathy she could see in his eyes made her feel dangerously close to breaking down. As Amelia leant forward to speak to Greville, forgetting for a moment her antipathy to him, Guy bent close to Sarah and touched her gloved hand. The fleeting contact gave her both comfort and confusion.

All had gone to plan that morning. They had left Woodallan early, sped on their way with the Earl and Countess’s good wishes and pressing invitations to return for Christmas. The Earl had shaken Guy’s hand and wished him luck, and Sarah had searched the face of both men for some clue to Guy’s secret errand at Blanchland, but there was nothing. Her doubts gnawed at her and added to her disquiet, but there was nothing she could do until the time Guy chose to tell her—or she dared to ask him.

Now that she had almost arrived, Sarah was prey to mixed feelings. Just seeing her old home again was emotional enough, but she was apprehensive as to what she might find there. Would Sir Ralph have ruined it beyond repair? Would he throw them all out into the snow—or worse, would he be indulging in some loathsome orgy? There was only one way to find out…

The silence, as they drew up on the forecourt, was almost sinister. All the windows of the house were shuttered and nothing stirred.

‘Perhaps no one is at home,’ Amelia said hopefully. ‘It seems deserted. Perhaps we should go back to Woodallan—’

‘We only left there a half-hour ago!’ Sarah said firmly. She stepped forward and rang the bell hard. They all heard it echo distantly before the silence settled again. The horses stamped impatiently on the gravel and Sarah jumped. Her nerves were on edge and she knew she was not the only one. Greville was looking grim and exchanged a quizzical look with Guy, and Amelia was shivering and peering around fearfully, as though she expected satyrs to jump out of the nearby bushes.

‘Oh, good, there is no one here! Let us go at once! Sarah—’

Sarah turned the door knob. The door was not locked and opened with a creak of protesting hinges that sounded loud in the morning quiet. Amelia gave a little shriek.

‘Oh, how Gothic! I declare, I will not set foot inside!’