Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow. Anne O'Brien
greeting him formally, as his housekeeper, she made herself scarce below stairs, and then was impossible to pin down. Lord Joshua had no intention of treading on Mrs Beddows’s preserve in the kitchen to find her. What a ridiculous situation this was when he could not separate his wife from the housekeeper, when she had found a bare two minutes to welcome him home as if she were still in his employ and then taken herself off to God knows where! He felt his temper building. He had spent his time at Richmond between the tedium of necessary estate business and contemplating his forthcoming nuptials with some bemusement. He was not sure how he had got himself to this point of asking Sarah Russell to marry him. Surely marriage was not the only way to solve the lady’s problems. But he had, for better or worse. His lordship gritted his teeth. And now he wanted to see her and speak with her again. If he could just find her.
He ran her to ground in the formal dining room overlooking the Square where she was in process of replacing the ornate branched silver candlesticks. They had been newly polished and Sarah was engaged in repositioning them on the dining table and the sideboards. For a moment she was unaware of his standing in the doorway, giving him the opportunity to simply look at her. This woman, still little more than a stranger, to whom he had offered marriage. The first impression to deal him a flat-handed blow was that she looked different. Charmingly different. And being well versed in the niceties of female fashion, Lord Joshua immediately knew why. This was the influence of Judith and Thea, if he were not much mistaken. His lips curved in an indulgent smile. They had obviously taken his bride in hand with splendid results. Nothing outrageous or overstated for her delicate role between housekeeper and Lady Faringdon, but an elegant high-waisted gown in a clear summer blue, which he knew immediately would match and enhance her eyes. The sleeves were long and sleek to draw attention to her slender hands. The hem was ruffled and ribbon-trimmed, deliciously feminine. And her hair. It was caught up in frivolous ringlets that fell to her shoulder in the palest of gleaming gold silk, little curls fanning onto her cheeks. He had never thought of Sarah as being frivolous and found himself outrageously moved by the cool, calm elegance of the lady, the quiet dignity with which she completed so menial a task. With the sun angling through the window to gild her with its warm radiance, she was quite lovely. What had he expected from the lady who would be Lady Joshua Faringdon? Just this, he decided, but it still took him by surprise.
He stepped forward and she looked up, then swiftly back down to her task of placing the candlesticks with a nicety of judgement. What he had seen fleetingly in her eyes worried him. She was not at ease. But then, why did that not surprise him either?
‘Sarah.’ He walked toward her, a little hum of anger in his blood, replacing the sudden pleasure, whether at her or himself he had no very clear idea. But his nearness had the desired effect of forcing her to look up.
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Joshua.’ They were making no progress here. He stifled a sigh and kept a firm hand on any further sharp comment.
‘Yes. Of course.’ She looked at him, eyes wide, assessing, for some female reason that would doubtless be impossible for a mere male to determine.
‘What is it? What is wrong?’ He felt the frown begin between his brows, but could not prevent it.
Sarah saw it too. ‘Nothing is wrong—exactly.’
‘Then if it is nothing exactly, perhaps you could abandon my silver and give your attention to me for a moment. I think I am more important.’ Nor could he prevent the edge in his voice.
It raised the faintest of smiles from his bride as she recognised the arrogant response, which ruffled him still further. So he leaned forward, took the candlestick from her fingers, placed it on the table with less care than might be expected for the highly polished rosewood surface and kept a grip of her hands when she automatically stepped back.
‘Don’t step away.’
‘I didn’t… I wasn’t…’ She was watching him, he realised, as a mouse would watch the approach of a large and hungry cat, wondering if she was about to become a tasty meal or could make a bolt for safety. The humour of it struck home at last and his face relaxed into a smile. The strange ill temper drained away to leave a sensation of lightness and relief.
‘I have missed you. Sarah.’ He kept his voice steady, willing her to respond.
‘I have been busy.’
‘So I see. You no longer look like the housekeeper I left behind.’
Her face was instantly flushed with deepest rose. ‘I have only—that is, I bought some clothes.’
‘Again, as I see. Definitely not my severe housekeeper!’
‘I did not think that you would mind if I spent some money—’
‘As I do not. Did I not tell you to be extravagant?’ There was still no warmth here, no acceptance of their new relationship. He would try again. Perhaps he should not have left her alone at this critical time before their marriage.
‘The colour is most becoming. And your hair—very elegant.’ He lifted a hand to stroke one finger round an errant curl. Her light perfume touched his senses. ‘All in all, my dear Sarah, I believe you are quite the thing.’
Sarah merely shook her head, misery clouding her eyes.
‘What is it, Sarah? Whatever it is cannot be so bad that you flinch from telling me. I am not an ogre.’
‘I know. I would never suggest… ‘ Well, she would say it. ‘I cannot think why you would wish to marry me.’ Sarah found herself speaking her fears against every intention.
‘Why should I not?’
‘I am not beautiful or elegant or sophisticated—or any of the things you would look for in your wife.’
‘Why do you say that? I find you to be everything I wish for. At this moment you look perfectly lovely. Why should you deny yourself?’
‘How can I believe you?’ The memory of the gloves returned in bright focus. ‘I know that I cannot possibly measure up to the glamour of the Countess of Wexford.’
‘I do not wish to marry the Countess of Wexford.’ Here was dangerous ground.
‘No. But I still do not understand why you should wish to marry me.’ All Sarah’s self-doubts and insecurities rolled back to swamp her.
‘Then I will show you.’ He drew her closer, releasing her hands to run his hands the length of her arms, smooth and slow, to her shoulders. ‘Look up.’ What he saw in her face, trepidation, nerves, a little fear, persuaded him of the need to be considerate with her, but he would kiss her. So he did. The first intimate demand he had ever made on her. A kiss that began as a simple touch of mouth against mouth. Until his response to her astounded him. Taken aback by the utter sweetness of her, hunger lunged as a wild beast and gripped him. And heat struck him as a fist to the gut when her mouth opened under the demand of his. Her light perfume filled his head and his loins, seductively sweet. Instinctively he tightened his hold and deepened the kiss, changing the angle of his head to take her lips as he wished. His body would not allow him to refuse the gift she offered so innocently as she moved closer within his arms and let him mould her soft curves to his firmly muscled frame.
Joshua lifted his head and took a breath. Well. He had not expected so basic a response to her. Sarah might claim to have no skills to attract, but her effect on him was undoubtable. Eyes wide, her lips parted, she looked up at him, as much shocked as he. He had, of course, to kiss her again. Thoroughly, needily, absorbing the warmth and softness of her body against his.
Sarah could not recognise, could not accept, the sheer glory of it. Every nerve in her body jumped in immediate answer to his demand, the thrill of his mouth on hers. Every inch of her skin so sensitive from that one kiss, so that when he claimed her mouth again she had no qualms about surrender. Her lips parted to accept the imperious invasion of his tongue, her arms crept around his neck, her fingers locking against and through his soft, dense hair. Had she not desired exactly this? When he pressed her closer yet so that she might be aware of