Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow. Anne O'Brien
Both acceptable and anticipated. As she would concern herself over the nurturing of Beth. He had no qualms on that issue. And had every intention of doing his best for the boy.
Her own wishes to be considered. Ah! Not to be coerced or dictated to or forced into actions against her will. His heart went out to her as she sat across from him silently awaiting his decision, even though he restrained himself from glancing in her direction. He knew exactly where that came from—and damned the unknown Edward Baxendale for his bitter legacy. In future, Sarah should have all the freedom she desired.
His brows rose in amazement, then snapped into a dark frown as he read on. No inappropriate orgies, entertainments, opera dancers or actresses in the house when she herself was present. Orgies? In God’s name, what had she heard? Surely not Judith! Then, with a wry curl of his lips, he once more had to accept the far-reaching tendrils of gossip and innuendo surrounding his life in Paris and could not complain.
He shrugged and read on to the final lines. A comment that touched his heart. I do not expect to be introduced to or be called upon to meet or acknowledge your mistress. I do not expect to have to receive her in my home. The Countess of Wexford, of course! I accept your freedom to take a mistress, given the pure convenience of our marriage, but I trust your sensitivity on this matter. I do not wish to have to acknowledge her.
How tragic. That Sarah should consider herself so undesirable and unworthy of love that he would continue to keep a mistress. His reputation again stood him in no good stead. He was gripped with a need to remove all such doubts from her mind. And make her feel loved and desirable.
He placed the paper on the desk where his own cup of tea also remained untasted. Without a word, unsmiling, giving no hint of his feelings, he handed her his own greatly revised script. And watched with deceptively stern features as she sat and read.
When she had finished she raised her head, her face registering a curious mixture of bafflement and pleasure, colour tinting her cheeks. ‘Well… You are very generous, sir. I do not see the necessity. The personal allowance…it is far too large for my needs…’
He knew that she would argue the issues at hand, but had no intention of retreating. ‘When did a woman ever have enough money to spend on herself? Judith never does, if what she says is true. You will need pin money to keep you in fripperies and such.’
‘But so much… Andhere…’ She pointed at the page. ‘That I should be willing to receive gifts from you… ‘ She shook her head.
‘Because I know that if I do not make it a prerequisite of marriage, you will decline. I wish to give you gifts and I wish you to enjoy them without feeling a need to refuse.’
‘I hope that I would not be so ungracious!’ More than a little ruffled now. ‘And you desire that I should become fashionable and elegant.’ He almost laughed aloud at the sudden anxiety on her face.
‘Of course,’ he replied with due solemnity. ‘I expect Lady Faringdon to present herself in nothing but the height of fashion. As my wife I will expect you to go about in society.’
‘But I do not know how—’
‘Sarah!’ He clenched his fists against a need to take hold of her shoulders and either kiss her or shake her into compliance. ‘Speak to Judith. Or Theodora. Your sister’s taste must, I am certain, be beyond question. And I think your colouring is the same as hers. Take her advice.’
‘I suppose.’ Sarah consulted the firm handwriting again. ‘You seem to think that I will gain no enjoyment from this match.’ Did he almost detect a flounce of temper there as she looked up? It delighted him. So he twitched the pages from her hand and read aloud: ‘I expect you to enjoy—and you will notice that I have underscored the word many times—the benefits of my wealth and consequence.’ He fixed her with a purposeful eye. ‘I would wish you to be happy, Sarah.’
‘And you would expect me to accompany you to Paris.’ There was the faintest suggestion of panic there.
‘Of course. We will employ a governess for Beth and John. As my wife, that is no longer your direct concern—except that I know you will wish to be involved. But I shall expect you to spend time with me.’
‘Oh.’ My wife. Wings of delicious terror fluttered in her belly.
‘So, Mrs Russell. Can we live amicably together, do you suppose? To the advantage of both?’
‘But you have said nothing in reply to my list.’ She regarded him with sudden suspicion.
‘I do not need to. I comply.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Mrs Russell. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
‘I—’
‘If it truly worries you, I promise that there will never be orgies in this house—or any of my establishments. Whether when you are in residence or when you are not. If I change my mind and decide to host some tasteless extravaganza, I shall demand that you organise a French banquet worthy of the Prince Regent. Does that satisfy you?’
Sarah could not help but laugh. ‘I should not have written that, should I?’
‘No.’ The laughter died a little from his eyes. ‘You should not believe all rumours, particularly those to my detriment’— even if I deliberately fostered them. ‘But still I promise that I will not.’
‘Then—if you wish it—I will agree to marry you.’ A shy smile touched her lips at last.
‘Thank you. I might tell you that I have never fought so difficult a battle in all my life. Waterloo was nothing to this. Wellington did not know the half of it.’
She had the grace to blush. ‘I did not mean to be difficult.’
‘No. I am sure you did not. Since we are in agreement and since you have agreed to my terms, it is my desire that you wear this.’
From the drawer of his desk he produced an old silk pouch. Untying the strings, he extracted a circle of gold. ‘It was in my mind to give you a diamond necklace to mark our betrothal, but I have it on the best authority that such tawdry gems can only signal the end of a relationship.’ His voice was dry, but his smile was gentle and he shook his head at her questioning look. ‘No matter. Give me your hand.’ When she obeyed, he pushed the ring on to her finger ‘Not a bad fit—a little large, but it can be remedied. It suits you very well.’
‘It is beautiful.’ It all but took her breath away. Never had she possessed anything so precious or so skilfully made. No one had ever given her jewellery before.
‘It is old and has not been worn by ladies of the family for some generations, but it is pretty and I thought it would complement your beautiful eyes. As my affianced wife I would like you to wear it. If it would please you, dear Sarah,’ he added on a thought, mindful of her fear of domestic dictates and the return of the velvet coat. His teeth glinted in an understanding smile.
‘It would please me. I can think of no lady who could refuse so splendid a gift.’ She moved her fingers, a little purr in her throat as the hoop of sapphires and pearls sparkled and glimmered in the light.
He sighed in some relief. He still could not quite believe that she had accepted him. Or understand why it should matter quite so much.
‘Thank you, Sarah.’ With a formal bow, he lifted her hand and kissed the ring where it encircled her finger, a potent symbol of their agreement and union. Then turned her hand to press his lips to her soft palm, a symbol of his own sense of achievement, had the lady but known it. ‘We will fix a date for our marriage. And soon.’
‘As you wish, my lord.’ As Sarah made to leave the room, her cheeks decidedly pink, she came to a halt and looked back.
‘What will you do with the—with our contracts, my lord?’
‘Put them in the desk drawer for safekeeping,’ was his prompt reply as if he had anticipated the