Chapter Four
After two days in her aunt’s house, Sara had arrived at three conclusions. One, the viscount never showed his face unless it was mealtime. Two, her aunt had more money than she knew what to do with. And three, there was absolutely nothing to do in this God forsaken house. She asked if she could go for a walk, but apparently proper young ladies did not walk about unchaperoned.
Not that her parents had minded in the least that Sara went for walks on a regular basis. In hindsight, it was probably in hopes that someone would kidnap her and relieve them of the burden of having to feed an extra mouth.
Negativity really wasn’t her forte, but being as bored as she was, she couldn’t help it. Her aunt hadn’t any books either! What was one to do? Sit and sew? She would probably poke an eye out. Her parents hadn’t wasted any time or effort on her education. Everything she knew was from watching her sisters’ lessons and reading. All in all she was self-taught. She had no talent to speak of, therefore had no music to practice or pictures to draw. The only highlights of her country life had been daydreaming in the fields, walking, and writing her own stories—all of which, according to aunt, were unacceptable.
She let out a long sigh as she slowly descended the stairs, hoping to pass away time with her methodic walking. This day was to be the beginning of her high society training with the mysterious cousin. All morning her aunt drilled her on the finer points of how to walk with her head held high, smile behind a fan, eat with the right utensils, and curtsy like a courtesan. She would inevitably explode from sheer tedium. What she wouldn’t give for a field to run barefoot in and a novel to keep her warm at night. She felt incomplete without the written word; although, it was good for her to study Scripture more lately. It was like a balm to her wounded soul, especially considering the events of the previous night. How she had managed to get herself in that predicament was beyond her. She had already been compromised after her first night! If her aunt ever caught wind of the incident, she would be furious!
Just then, her aunt’s booming voice echoed through the hall, mingling with the unmistakable low voice of a man, which sounded like warm honey. It was deep and velvet. Just listening to it felt like a caress to her heart. She braced herself for their meeting, knowing that one look at her and any man with such a voice would most likely flee, or worse—he would pity her.
***
Nicholas was having a difficult time recalling exactly how he had gotten himself into such an unsavory situation while climbing the stairs to Lady Fenton’s door. His cousin had a way of pulling favors from anyone which made even the strongest of men bow to requests. In this case, however, she didn’t hold a favor over his head. It was her mere presence reminding him of the past, and her honest solemn plea for his help, making it impossible for him to deny her the favor. She needed a gentleman who would know the ton well enough to coach her young protégé, but who was also wise enough not to touch her.
Lady Fenton provoked him enough to accept, but now he also felt challenged. She had the audacity to warn him not to touch the girl, as if he would actually fall to woman’s feet just because she was attractive, or as his cousin put it earlier today: devastating—whatever that meant.
Lady Fenton’s old steward met him at the door and announced his arrival to the woman of the house, who sashayed briskly into the hall and offered her hand in greeting. Nicholas kissed it perfunctorily. “You look radiant as always, cousin,” he crooned.
“Thank you, my dear. I see your eyesight hasn’t improved. We will set up in the drawing room. I believe my niece is waiting there for us. Will you follow me?”
They made their way to the first floor drawing room. Lady Fenton spoke interminable of her plans for the girl’s debut. He shook his head as his cousin went on and on. Did women never tire of such sport?
She led him into the drawing room.
He froze and stopped breathing all at once; it felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. He took one look at the girl and, for old times’ sake, swore under his breath. He immediately asked for forgiveness in his heart as his eyes caressed the girl sitting before him.
She seemed tense, almost as if bracing for some sort of impact. Well, I would probably behave the same way living in this mad woman’s house, he thought. Then he stole another look at her.
It couldn’t be.
No.
But it was.
Hell. He was in his own personal Hell. Only this time there was no escape, because sitting in front of him was the same girl he had mauled in the hallway the night before. And by the look in her eyes, she recognized him, too. A deep blush swept from her chest all the way up that neck his fingers had burned to touch. Yes, God was punishing him and doing a thorough job.
“Sit straight, my dear!” Lady Fenton scolded.
“And so it begins,” he grumbled under his breath. He strode over to the girl and kissed her hand quickly. His lips held the tingling sensation long afterward, and it was a good five minutes before he could think logically again.
His cousin droned on interminably about the coming days, and he couldn’t help but allow his eyes and thoughts to wander back to the poor creature seated before him. No doubt she would be eaten alive by the ton. She was too beautiful for her own good. She wore no face paint, not that she needed it at all. Her dark lashes naturally extended further than most women’s and were thick, almost dewy looking. Her lips were pale pink, the color of a fair rose. Her skin was dark, but it framed such a beautiful jawline that one hardly took notice. Her eyes, the same beautiful emeralds from the night before, were like a burning furnace of emotion. She would quite easily have her pick of any man she desired.
It had to be a test from God to be put in the same room as this girl. She is a debutante just like all the rest of them, he kept reminding himself over and over again until he thought he’d go mad.
“Shall we start with a waltz?” Lady Fenton asked, no, it was actually more of a statement. He paled as he looked down at the girl.
“Don’t just sit there,” his cousin bellowed. “Get up! Your looks are no reason to act unapproachable or mute!” The outburst jolted Nicholas, and he glanced quickly to the girl on the settee.
She looked like she had just been struck, yet a certain intelligence hung behind her eyes, making him feel as if he was in for a lot more than lessons. It was obvious she had a temper, even though she concealed it quite well. It would behoove him to remember that in case he accidently provoked the poor thing.
An image of her chasing after her aunt with her fan entered his mind; he cleared his throat to mask the chuckle trying to betray his amusement and held his hand out to her. She eyed him reluctantly before accepting it. Her touch sent familiar sensations shuddering all the way down to his toes; it was like stepping into Dante’s Inferno. How long had it been since he experienced this depth of attraction? Oh yes—around twelve hours. He had gone two whole years without any hint of scandal or misconduct, yet one simple touch from this maiden was enough to undo him.
Nicholas led her gently to the middle of the room. He bowed casually before asking, “Are we sure this dance is appropriate for Miss—” He looked down at her in question. Ironically, Lady Fenton failed to make the proper introductions, or he somehow missed the name of the beauty.
“Sai. You may call me Sai,” she informed him in a smooth sultry voice. He nearly moaned in agony. How could he have forgotten her voice was that of a temptress? Had he not already determined he was in Hell? Might as well add her voice to the list of completely spell-binding tortures she wielded.
She curtsied uncertainly before him, bowing her head slightly forward. A few tendrils of her velvety black hair fell onto her forehead, escaping the hairpins. Impulsively, he reached forward and brushed the wandering strands from her face, shocking himself and Sai, leaving both of them staring at each other as if the sun had suddenly stopped shining.
He coughed again self-consciously and grasped her hands in his own. “Is this your first waltz, Sai?” Small talk. That will make it less awkward, he reasoned with himself.
Her eyelashes fluttered instinctively down. “Yes, my lord.”
“You don’t need to address me so formally.”
“Oh, yes she does!” Lady Fenton flared from the side. “Now, both of you, a little closer.”
He groaned inwardly while pulling Sai closer. Any closer and I’m going to compromise her right here in this room with her aunt watching. He swallowed hard and continued to hold her close. The heat between them escalated by the minute, leaving him smoldering in a cold sweat from his effort to avoid looking in her eyes.
Against his better judgment, he pulled her a little closer and whispered into her ear so Lady Fenton couldn’t hear, “You may call me Nicholas. All of my friends do. And you will need a friend when she launches you onto society at the end of the week.” Of course, his friends never used his real name, but Sai didn’t need to know that, and his heart yearned for the familiarity it would give them.
Not without difficulty, Nicholas drew back to an appropriate distance. The electricity between them was hypnotizing, and his head swam in its dizzying effects. It would be so easy to forget they were not alone in the room and linger closely in her intoxicating presence, but under the circumstances, it would be most inappropriate—and for him, dangerous.
A hint of a teasing smile danced in her eyes, as she took her turn to lean forward. “I would not to give the impression we are more than just acquaintances. Using your Christian name, I fear, would do nothing but compromise your integrity. After all, Lady Fenton tells me you have sworn off the female sex in light of religion.”
Biting her lip, she ended the dance with a curtsy, her eyes sparkling.
Dumbstruck, he didn’t know whether to bow at her feet or beg her to marry him right then and there. Then he remembered the feather. He wasn’t going to lose the bet just because some wild-eyed temptress batted her eyes at him. Nicholas knew it wasn’t her fault he starved himself of women these past two years, but what he needed was to get away from her before he lost more than just the bet.
“That was lovely!” Lady Fenton pulled the cord for tea. “The two of you will do just fine at the ball this Friday, I’m sure of it.”
Nicholas gave her a sharp look. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Of course you do!” she snapped. “You’re escorting Sai to the ball. Did I not tell you as much when we discussed the arrangement this morning? You must guard her virtue! I am acting as chaperone, and you are acting as her personal bodyguard. Who else would be more suitable for the task than a reformed rake of your reputation?”
Sai lifted an eyebrow. “Reputation?”
“My dear—and forgive me, my lord, for being so blunt—” Nicholas didn’t have time to answer before she went on, “You are dancing with one of the most notorious womanizers of the ton. He only recently turned to religion and swore off marriage, but until then it was common to see him with married and unmarried alike. Isn’t that right, Nicholas?”
He sighed, watching his chances fly out the window. Not that he wanted a chance, but if he had, it would be gone after that statement. “Your opinion of me, dear cousin, is most enlightening. No wonder I have sworn off females.”
She stepped back as if stung and pulled the cord again. “Honestly, what is wrong with the service in this house? I’ll be just a minute. Nicholas, work with her on etiquette.” And then Lady Fenton was out the door, taking all sense of propriety Nicholas once felt with her.
“I’m sorry she said that,” Sai said sweetly as she took her seat.
“I’m afraid everything she said was true,” he replied. Might as well be honest since he would be spending time with her. “I can assure you that being with me will not tarnish your reputation. As she said, I am reformed.”
“From what, exactly, are you reformed, my lord?” she inquired, leaning toward him with her slender body in perfect view of his piercing eyes.
He forced himself to relax. “To put it bluntly, I am reformed from taking physical pleasure from whomever whenever I please. I have found religion; I do not take it lightly and will not be swayed to ever bind myself to another.”
Though by her downcast look he realized it was only pity, Sai’s smile sent his heart hammering through his chest. Was she trying to call his bluff? Could she sense the effect she had on him?
***
Could he sense the effect he had on her? It was horrifying to be so blatantly attracted to such a rake. No wonder he warmed the beds of the ton, with his easy eyes and deadly smile, he had her even forgetting her own name. She did her best to calm her ragged breathing and flashed him a smile to show her ease at being in the same room with him, even if her body still felt sensitive where his hands had touched her. How silly to be affected so much, he had barely been holding her, yet she felt like the most beautiful woman in the room—even though she knew it wasn’t true. A man of his nature, especially a man of his nature, knew beautiful women. After all, he had scandalously bedded many of them. He wouldn’t waste his time on Sara even if he did go back on his oath, not that she wanted him to.
The previous night had obviously been a mistake. Although she could tell by his reaction, he knew exactly who she was, she had swallowed her pride when his face paled at the sight of her. Naturally the mask she had worn covered most of her flaws, and the hallway had been extremely dark. He probably thought her beautiful then, but now, ever so wicked and ugly. All she had to offer him was friendship, though her heart begged for more.
Sara looked up to meet his gaze and realized they had been having a somewhat intelligent conversation regarding his decision not to marry before her mind wandered off and ruined the moment.
She started again, “So, you do not want children?”
Something flashed across his face before he looked away and answered, “Every man wants an heir.” He pushed a thick lock of chocolate hair away from his brow and smiled deeply. Sara felt heat burn to her cheeks. His eyes were crystal blue, one could almost see through them, if that were possible. It was a stark contrast to his dark brown, hair making it almost hypnotic to gaze in his direction. How did people do it? How did people act normal around this man? How was she supposed to act normal around someone so purely male? He was to escort her to her first ton event, the only chance she has to win her family’s approval and secure their future, but she couldn’t remember a blessed thing her aunt had taught her. The only thing her brain could focus on was his hair brushing along the crisp white cravat. Surprising how Lord Renwick openly mocked society with his untamable long hair. An unsuspecting jealousy arose, her hands itching to feel the silky chocolate locks between her fingers that blatantly taunted her.
He seemed to notice her break in concentration and came to sit beside her on the couch; she scooted to the side, so their thighs would not touch. “I’ll be with you every step of the way on Friday. It really is painless, I promise you that. They’ll poke at you, prod you, make you turn circles, make you dance with dukes twice your age, and when the night is done, I’ll escort you home and feed you chocolate.”
Laughter bubbled out of her before she had time to stop it. She put two fingers over her lips and sighed, “Wise choice with the chocolate, my lord.”
He swallowed slowly as he leaned forward; she knew that it was wrong, but like a magnet she drew in toward him as well. How brave and improper he was! He reminded her of the dangerous men in the books she read; however, her body was not responding with stirrings of alarm, only cravings.
His warm breath blew across her face paralyzing her where she sat. “Lesson number one; never let a man get this close to you.” Not knowing which direction to look, she cast her eyes downward. The space between them was non-existent, slowly her eyes rose to meet his just in time to see him lick his lips and draw even closer. Shivers ran down her spine as he brushed his hand across her cheek tilting her head to the side as if waiting for her permission. Yes, her body screamed, for what, she didn’t know. All she knew was that with his warm hand cupping her face, all logical thought flew out the window. His smile turned seductive as he grazed her lip with his one finger then chuckled and pulled back.
Words wouldn’t come, so she merely nodded her head and allowed the usual blush to creep up to her cheeks. “I understand.”
“No,” he said drawing back and straightening his cravat. “I don’t believe you do.” The room suddenly turned chilly.
Was he angry? Now he paced in front of her. “Men of the ton do not care what you look like, nor the station of life you come from. They want only one thing when they see a woman walk into the room. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”
She couldn’t even nod her head. What had she done? It was as if he was a different man—cold, unresponsive and angry, but she couldn’t tell if he was angry at her or himself.
His back was facing her, she heard him mumble something resembling a swear word in French. He turned back to face her and approached her yet again on the couch. All his walking made her dizzy. “Sai, you can’t allow a man to get you alone or to get near you at the ball. There will be no going down dark hallways, no looking at the gardens or the stars. None of it. Do you understand?”
Of course she understood. His regret about the previous night—their rendezvous in the hallway—weighed on him. He was just sparing her feelings by not mentioning the specifics. It was his way of saying it was a mistake. She was a mistake. And he didn’t want any of his gentlemen friends to find themselves trapped with someone as hideous as she.
“The last thing you want is to be compromised by someone you do not wish to marry, or worse, someone who does not wish to marry you.”
She licked her lips and forced a smile. “I understand, my lord. Believe me when I say, I have lived with the reality that no man would want me for a wife for a long time. So please know, I also understand no man in his right mind would want to lead me away from a group of people just so he could compromise me. I thank you for forthrightness.”
His face paled as he mumbled yet another word under his breath. “I must admit I’m at a loss, Sai. Who ever told you these things?”
What was he getting at? Did he wish to further humiliate her by bringing to her attention, yet again, how utterly disgusting her face was? Or how men would wish to compromise her only to humiliate her? She bit her lip and looked at his cold blue eyes. “Everyone I’ve ever known.”
His eyes widened as if the information somehow shocked him, but before he could prod further they were interrupted by Aunt Tilda, followed by the tea.
“How are things progressing?” Her aunt clasped her hands and smiled. “I do hope Lord Renwick has taught you some useful information?”
“Indeed,” Sara muttered.
Lord Renwick was still mute, leaving her to believe she had made her point and put him in his place. He deserved to be there. No stranger had the right to tell her what she could and could not do; surely he didn’t think she would take it well that he also thought her plain and ugly. To even joke about a man taking her into a darkened hall was enough to make her want to cry. If only for the reason that she dreamed of such passion since she was a little girl—not that she would do anything to cause her parents embarrassment, but what would it be like to be escorted to the gardens at night, or to be caught in a stolen embrace in a dark hallway?
Last night her fantasies came alive. Now it felt like the dream was shattering before her eyes. Wasn’t the prince supposed to be madly in love with the princess? The storybooks never spoke of the prince apologizing to the princess for embarrassing her.
Her daydreaming soon took over; she didn’t even notice the room darkening.
“I must take my leave.” Lord Renwick rose from the couch and bowed to her aunt. “Lady Fenton, it was a pleasure. I look forward to Friday.” He turned toward Sara and smiled, whatever had passed between them was obviously gone. “Sai, thank you for the lovely time. Please be ready for my carriage at six o’clock on Friday.” He brushed his lips across her gloved hand but didn’t release her hand until he squeezed it a little too long and hard. She meant to pull back, but just like before she felt clumsy and frozen in his presence. He left the house quickly as if to escape.
“Most peculiar,” her aunt mused, sipping her tea.
“What is?” Sara asked.
“Lord Renwick,” Lady Fenton answered.
“I don’t understand your meaning, my lady,” Sara countered.
“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just…” She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t believe I have ever seen him behave in such a scatter-brained manner. He seemed positively unhinged.”
Sara grunted in a very unladylike manner before she answered, “If that’s Lord Renwick unhinged, I would hate to be on the receiving end when he was…hinged.”
Aunt Tilda laughed. “Don’t hold your breath, my gel. Women still flock in droves just to get a glimpse of his face. When he is—how would you put it—hinged, he is one of the most persuasive men in the country. Even more so than the Prince Regent himself.”