Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow

It was not important.

The face stayed in her memory. Sarah was not at ease.

Joshua also found himself beset.

His conversation with Olivia Wexford at the diplomatic reception had been totally unsatisfactory, much as he had expected. When he had broached the subject head on, with typical candour, she denied any knowledge of the source of the rumours in London. But her eyes had been cold and watchful of his reaction to her. She was not beyond throwing out lures, despite their fraught parting, making it more than evident that she would welcome any overtures from him. Joshua smiled without humour. He had no intention of making overtures of any nature to the Countess. He had never trusted her, trusted her even less now, knowing that she was capable of making any kind of mischief. He would not become involved with her again, whatever plots Wycliffe might devise. She was far too dangerous, driven by resentment at her so-casual dismissal from his life.

But the matter of the Countess of Wexford was quickly put out of his mind. There was beyond question something afoot, as Wycliffe had intimated. He could find no sound evidence beyond an uneasy calm and a variety of enigmatic observations from his many sources. He had definitely discarded the viability of the long-running plot to restore the Emperor Napoleon. It was generally acknowledged that the exiled ruler was near death. Yet it seemed to him that Paris was holding its breath, awaiting some catastrophe. As he worded to Wycliffe in a carefully neutral note, nothing was clear except the extreme vulnerability of the Bourbons. Louis himself widowed and childless, his brother also widowed. Even more a cause for concern was that Louis’s nephew and his lively wife, the Duc and Duchesse de Berri, had yet to produce a living son. A carefully plotted assassination against any or all, particularly if the royal family neglected its security during the Carnival revels, could destroy the Bourbon claim in one vicious coup and open France to God-knew-what influences.

So Joshua worried about the lack of news and the dangers inherent in the street celebrations. It even began to tease at his mind that perhaps he should have left Sarah in London after all. It might be that there were real dangers lurking behind the costumes and masks here in Paris, not to be compared with the minor irritation of having one of Wycliffe’s men dog her steps at home. That thought, growing as the days passed, troubled his sleep and scraped at the edges of his temper. He must take it upon himself to ensure Sarah’s safety—after all, he had insisted that she come to Paris—but his energies were being stretched in too many directions. The one consolation was that since Thea and Nick were here it meant that she need never go out without company, if he were committed. But even so, he must stick close to his wife. It was becoming more and more important to him that he keep her safe. When his sleep was not disturbed by plots and rumours, it was troubled by thoughts of Sarah.

His troubles were multiplied a thousand times when he, too, saw a face he knew. Recognised it immediately, without any difficulty. Dark haired, dark eyed, striking features, it was a face with which he had lived for many years. So familiar that it caused him to rein in his horse with ungentle hands. The lady passed by him in a fashionable carriage, in company with a distinguished gentleman some years older than herself and another fashionably dressed couple. Before he could gather his wits and restrain his horse’s lively reactions, she was too distant, so he was unable to speak with her. Besides, in truth, he had no idea what he should say to her in company, in public. He could imagine some of the repercussions with a bitter twist to his lips. The morass of scandal might deepen yet and sink everyone concerned.

Thus this chance encounter, a succession of sleepless nights and the problem of a wife who was not exactly cool but was more than a little reserved, put him out of all humour, with himself in particular and the world in general. He took himself home with a short temper and a black frown, where Nicholas came across him in the hall, leafing through his correspondence, and quickly gave an excuse to make himself scarce after the briefest of greetings. Sher’s temper was legendary. Slow to burn, but inflammatory when once ignited. With the result that the one to be scorched and feel the full force of the blast was Sarah, unsuspecting and close at hand. Sarah, who was unfortunate to suffer one of her devastating moments of doubt and insecurity.

She was standing in the morning room, its door open into the entrance hall, opening an official letter, which was addressed with her name and had just been delivered. ‘Joshua!’ She looked up as he came into view.

‘What is it?’ A short brusque reply, but which did not immediately catch her attention from the sheet in her hand.

‘It is a draft on your bank for me… Is this your idea of pin money?’

‘What of it?’ She should have realised it, made allowances, she thought in retrospect. Especially when he entered and closed the door with something like a slam. ‘You need it. Particularly if you allow Theodora to encourage your spending habits.’

She should definitely have been warned by this unexpected sniping at Theodora. But was not.

‘Not as much as this.’ She was still taken up with the row of figures on the draft.

‘You asked for some.’

‘I cannot spend all this—not if I stayed here more than a twelve-month.’

‘You must be the first woman in creation who cannot.’

‘I don’t deserve it.’ Oh, no! I should not have said that. She knew it as soon as the words escaped her lips. What made her say it? It made her sound so… so pathetic! She had moved beyond such lack of esteem long ago. But she did and immediately saw the result.

A flare of anger.

‘Don’t! In God’s name, don’t put yourself down so, Sarah.’ A sharp reply, intolerant in the extreme. ‘If I choose to make such a present to my wife, so be it. Don’t ever say again that you are not worth it.’

‘No, my lord.’ She watched him wide-eyed, quite taken aback. And I should not have said that either!

‘Joshua. Joshua—not my lord! And this is pin money Have all your main bills sent directly to me. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Joshua. Of course I understand. I am not quite stupid.’

For a moment he simply stood and looked at her, thinking she knew not what. His face was cold and drawn, those magnificent silver eyes bleak with ice. Then he pounced, seized her by the shoulders and turned her toward an ornate mirror on the wall behind her.

‘What do you see in the mirror?’

She looked, but more at the man standing behind her, temper barely held in check. Handsome, impossibly so. Imposing and dominant. But at this moment taut with overwhelming passions. She did not know what had happened to light this conflagration, but surely it was more than her unfortunate choice of words. She had never seen him so insecurely on the edge of control.

‘What do you see?’ he repeated, no softening in his expression.

‘I see a man who is entirely out of humour!’ She met his gaze squarely. She would not take the blame here.

‘What else?’

‘Me, of course.’

‘And what do you see there?’

‘I…’ She had no idea where this was leading. ‘I do not understand what you wish me to say.’

‘Then I will tell you. I see a young woman. Well groomed, lovely, fashionable. When she smiles, the sun shines. She is as graceful as a lily.’ His hands still gripped her shoulders as if to prevent her flight. The compliments were delivered in a harsh, clipped tone, totally at odds with their sentiment. His face was hard as stone. But Sarah felt no fear. Her heart beat faster at the heat from his nearness, at what he might say next. It did not make for easy listening. ‘And yet she feels that she is worth nothing. It is time that she did—well beyond time. She is competent, caring, loyal, worthy of respect…’ Entirely lovable! ‘Yet questions every attempt I make to show my regard or to smooth her path. Is that true?’

‘Perhaps… ‘ She watched him, not a little shocked, much as a rabbit would watch an approaching fox.

‘It is true.’ His mind still frozen with that one momentous realisation that she was lovable—which he had always known, of course. But that he loved her. And that it hurt like the very devil when she would not accept what he wished to give her.

‘I did not know that you would see me like that.’

‘I married you. Of course I see you like that. It is an insult to me that you should suggest that I am not aware of your every asset, every gift, every superb quality. I would not marry a woman worth less.’ And I have not spoken the most important. The most earth-shattering. Which I have only just come to appreciate myself, fool that I am! You are totally lovable. And I adore you! What more could he say to her when his own thoughts were in such turmoil? He released her so quickly she might have stumbled.

‘Don’t deny me the right to make you happy!’ It was all he could manage, but delivered in a tone quite as harsh as before.

‘Very well.’ She still faced him in the mirror, could do no other, could find no other words. What was wrong? What on earth had happened to disturb his equanimity in his dealings with her?

He saw her trepidation. But was beyond softening either his words or his expression. What a moment to realise that he was in love with his wife! When besieged by secrets and rumours and those who might wish them ill. When events in Paris might erupt to engulf and harm them both.

He took a breath, riding the edge of control. And managed admirably.

‘Forgive me. I did not mean to disturb you or shout at you. The fault is not yours, but mine—and I should not have treated you with so little respect. I have no excuses.’

He took possession of her hand and lifted it with a terrible formality to his lips. Then bowed with equal chill formality, before turning to stalk from the room.

To stand outside, his back to a disaster of his own creating. How could Sarah possibly hold any tender feelings towards him after such a cruel and unworthy attack? He raked vicious fingers through his hair. It seemed to him that he lurched from one confrontation to the next—and the blame was undeniably his.

Whilst Sarah, on the other side, was left to press her cold fingers against her lips, to wonder what one earth she had done to deserve such a devastating dissection of her character, even as her innate honesty demanded that she recognise the truth behind the words. Well, she would take those words to heart, accepting that it became her to exert her independence and more confidence in her relationship with her husband. She would acknowledge her own worth. She would forget the past, the guilt and the pain, the debts to be paid. She would accept her position as Lady Joshua Faringdon with all the grace that he said she possessed. She would fritter away his money—if that is what he wished! And she would continue to love him with every drop of blood in her body! Since he would never know, he would not be able to complain about that!

With which comforting thought, she left the room in his wake with a flounce of her silk skirts.

With remarkable and amazingly sly diplomacy she contacted Thea and arranged that they should attend the ball to be given by the Prussian Ambassador with Nicholas as escort. It had not been her intention to attend, but attend she would, in a new gown delivered only the day before. She would delight in delivering the receipt with the astounding figure at the bottom to her lord. If Joshua was to dine at home tonight, it would be alone. He could frown and snarl at the fricassee of lamb in his own company. If he had other engagements arranged, then it would be without her!

Her smile might be a little forced, but her mind was set.

Chapter Ten

As fate would again have it, both Lord Joshua Faringdon and his lady attended the Prussian Ambassador’s ball, if separately and unaware of the other’s intention. Joshua out of necessity to meet some prearranged contacts, Sarah, as she had planned, in a fit of defiance.