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

Sarah, reflecting that her cousin had no notion quite how much Frank was indeed asking of her, tried to console her.

‘It will not be for long, I promise, and it is no great matter. I am sure Sir Ralph cannot really be so bad—’

‘Ralph has made Blanchland a byword for licentiousness and depravity!’ Amelia said strongly. ‘You may pretend that you are happy to accept this commission, but you know it will ruin you! What can be so important to force you back there? Oh, I could murder Frank were it not that he is dead already!’

Sarah burst out laughing. ‘Oh Milly, I truly wish that I could confide in you, but I have been sworn to secrecy! It is a most delicate matter—’

‘Fiddle!’ Lady Amelia said crossly. She looked at her cousin and her anger melted into rueful irritation. She could never be cross with Sarah for long.

‘Oh, I am sorry, my love! I know you were most sincerely attached to your brother and that you believe you are doing the right thing, but…’ Her voice trailed away unhappily.

‘I know.’ Sarah patted her hand. At four and twenty she was Amelia’s junior by five years, yet often felt the elder of the two. It was Amelia who rushed impetuously at life, Amelia whose reckless impulses could so often lead to trouble if not tempered by the wise counsel of her younger cousin. Amelia, widowed for five years, still seemed as heedless as a young debutante. Yet now it was she who was counselling caution and Sarah who was set on a foolhardy course.

‘And to travel now!’ Amelia said fretfully. ‘Why, it is but two weeks to Christmas and I am sure we are in for some snow!’

‘I am sorry, Milly, it is just something I feel I must do—’

‘Excuse me, madam.’ Sarah broke off as Chisholm, Amelia’s butler, stepped softly into the room. ‘There are two gentlemen here to see you—’

‘I am not at home!’ Amelia cried vexedly. ‘Really, Chisholm, you know that I am not receiving!’

‘Yes, ma’am, but you did give orders that Sir Greville—’

‘Greville!’ Amelia cried. ‘Why did you not say so, Chisholm? What are you waiting for? Show him in at once!’

Not a muscle moved in the butler’s impassive face. ‘Very well, madam.’

Sarah, repressing a smile, wondered whether Amelia appreciated the long-suffering patience of her servants. They were all most sincerely attached to her, despite her grasshopper mind.

‘Sir Greville! How do you do, sir? I had no notion you were returned from London!’

Amelia, her ill temper forgotten, smiled sunnily as her visitors were shown into the room. Indeed, Sarah felt that a less good-natured man than Sir Greville Baynham might have read far more into the warmth of his welcome than was intended. Greville had been Amelia’s most constant admirer for the last few years and though she showed every evidence of enjoying his company, she had never accepted any of his proposals of marriage. Sarah privately thought that, should Sir Greville’s attentions be permanently withdrawn, Amelia would miss him rather more than she anticipated. Unfortunately her cousin showed no sign of recognising that fact.

‘Lady Amelia,’ Greville was saying formally, ‘please allow me to present Viscount Renshaw. Guy is staying with me at Chelwood for a few days. Guy, this is Lady Amelia Fenton and…’ he turned to smile at Sarah ‘…her cousin, the Honourable Miss Sarah Sheridan, whom I believe you have already met.’

Sarah’s heart had skipped a beat as she recognised the tall figure following Greville Baynham into Amelia’s elegant drawing-room. Guy Renshaw. What dreadful bad luck that he should appear again just when she had succeeded in banishing from her mind that wicked smile and those disturbing dark eyes. And worse, it seemed she had been correct all along in recognising him, though there was little resemblance between the gangling youth who had once teased her mercilessly and this very personable man.

Guy Renshaw sketched an elegant bow. ‘Lady Amelia, how do you do? I have heard much about you!’ His voice was low-pitched and very agreeable, as melodious as Sarah remembered from that morning. She found that her heart was beating fast and had to take a deep breath to steady herself.

Amelia blushed and smiled as she gave the Viscount her hand. Sarah tried not to laugh. Judging by the rueful look on his face, Greville might be regretting introducing his friend to the lady he ardently wished to marry! Amelia was quite the most dreadful flirt and did not deserve his devotion whilst Guy Renshaw, as Sarah now knew, could scarcely be trusted.

‘And, Miss Sheridan…’ Lord Renshaw turned to her. There was a smile playing around the corners his mouth. He really was quite shockingly attractive and Sarah was sure that he knew it. The thought served to calm her. She would not provide the confirmation!

‘Not only have you and I have met before, ma’am,’ the Viscount was saying, ‘but I would go so far as to say that we were childhood friends!’

‘Were you indeed, Sarah?’ Amelia’s eyes were bright with curiosity as they moved from one to the other. ‘How intriguing!’

Sarah looked at Guy Renshaw very deliberately and saw his smile deepen into challenge as he awaited her response.

‘Lord Renshaw mistakes,’ she said slowly. ‘We were never childhood friends.’

It gave her a certain satisfaction to see the swift flash of surprise in his eyes. Guy Renshaw, Sarah thought, was all too sure of himself and his power to attract.

‘How could we be,’ she added sweetly, ‘when Lord Renshaw spent the whole time tormenting me with spiders and toads? I do believe I thought him an odious boy!’

Amelia gave a peal of laughter. ‘Dear me, Lord Renshaw, it seems my cousin has a long memory for childhood slights! You will have to try hard to win her good opinion!’

‘I shall endeavour to do so, ma’am, if Miss Sheridan will give me a second chance!’ There was speculation as well as amusement in the look Guy cast Sarah. She felt a shiver of awareness, as though he had just issued a challenge she was unsure she could meet. She looked away deliberately.

Amelia was patting the sofa beside her. ‘How long do you plan to spend in Bath, Lord Renshaw? No doubt you will find our society sadly flat after London!’

‘I doubt it, ma’am,’ Guy murmured, casting another glance at Sarah. He took a seat beside his hostess. ‘I fear, however, that I am only here for a few days. I am but recently returned from the Peninsula and am anxious to see my family again. I shall be returning to Woodallan the day after tomorrow.’

‘Then you must come to my ball tomorrow night!’ Amelia gave him a ravishing smile. ‘It will be most apt for a returned hero, for I am celebrating the allied successes!’

They fell to discussing the Peninsular War and Sir Greville came across to Sarah and sat down next to her. She let herself be distracted by small talk. At least the arrival of the two men had had the effect of diverting Amelia’s attention from her proposed visit to Blanchland, but Sarah suspected that it was only a temporary respite. Amelia was known for her tenacity and if Sarah was really unlucky the topic of the roses might be raised as well. Sarah had managed to skate adroitly over the cause of her accident but she would not put it past Guy Renshaw to mention the whole story just to put her out of countenance.

A footman and maid arrived with refreshments and somehow, Sarah was not quite sure how, Sir Greville and Lord Renshaw exchanged places. It was done in the neatest and most unobtrusive manner, but Sarah did not miss the look of gratitude Sir Greville flashed his friend as he took his place by Amelia, and her opinion of Guy went up a little. She only hoped that the Viscount’s motives towards herself were as irreproachable.

‘May I join you?’ Guy was smiling at her, the smile that made her heart do a little flip despite herself. ‘I can assure you that it is quite safe—my preoccupation with arachnids and amphibians is a thing of the past!’ He leaned forward to help Sarah to a Bath biscuit. ‘I am most sincerely sorry for the spider on your chair—’

‘It was a toad on my chair,’ Sarah said severely, ‘and a spider in the schoolroom! I beg you not to regard it, Lord Renshaw. I do not believe that I sustained any lasting hurt!’

‘I am relieved to hear it,’ Guy murmured, ‘as I wish above all things to make a good impression upon you, Miss Sheridan!’

‘A little late for that, my lord, when you were so destructive to my roses!’ Sarah observed sweetly.

He lowered his voice. ‘Was your cousin very displeased? If only you had vouchsafed your name and direction, Miss Sheridan, I could have escorted you back here and apologised to her!’

Sarah knew he was trying provoke her by reminding her of the set-down she had given him. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she repressed it ruthlessly.

‘You know that that would scarcely have been appropriate, my lord! As for Amelia, she was a little dismayed. She is the dearest creature, but even she cannot concoct a red, white and blue flower arrangement without the red!’

‘Ah, I see. The patriotic theme?’

‘Precisely so!’ Despite herself, Sarah found that they were smiling together. Guy was sitting forward, his entire attention focused on her in a most flattering manner. It was very disconcerting.

‘I am so very sorry that I did not recognise you when we met earlier, Miss Sheridan,’ he said softly, ‘but how was I to know that the gawky schoolgirl I used to know had grown into such a beautiful woman? Such a transformation is enough to throw a fellow completely!’

Sarah felt a blush rising at the teasing note in his voice. There was admiration in the look he gave her; admiration and a more disturbing emotion. It seemed astonishing that she could be sitting here in Amelia’s drawing-room with a gentleman she had just met again for the first time in thirteen years, and be feeling this intoxicating and entirely improper stirring of the senses.

‘You are outrageous, sir!’ she said, to cover her confusion. ‘I believe you have not altered one whit!’

‘Oh, you must allow me a little improvement!’ Guy looked at her with mock-reproof. ‘At the very least, I am taller than when you last saw me!’

‘That was not at all what I meant! It seems to me that you were always given to the most excessive flattery! Why, I distinctly remember you practising your charms on my grandmother! She professed herself scandalised that one so young should be so adept at flirtation!’

‘Well, I’ll concede that I was ever inclined to practise on susceptible ladies!’ Guy said lazily. ‘You may find, however, that my scandalous behaviour has developed in other directions since then!’