Broken Wing (36 page)

“I’m very much afraid you’ll have to abandon your travel plans for tomorrow, my dear,” the earl said, sincerely thanking Dame Fortune as he tried his best to look sympathetic and concerned. “It looks very much as if we’re about to be snowed in.”

“Ah, well,
c’est la vie
. I do hope you won’t find me too great an imposition.”

“In truth, my dear, I’m unable to recall when I’ve enjoyed anyone’s company as much.”

“How charming! You know, you’re not at all what I was led to expect.”

“Old and decrepit, you mean?”

“That too, but I was referring to the curse of the Killigrews. The terror and bane, and dare I say, delight, of your relatives in Falmouth.”

“Mmm, yes. I really must go and visit them sometime. I’ve been told they never speak of me, rather in the manner one doesn’t speak of the devil.”

“But they do, my lord, with a shudder and a slight flush, and avid looks all around. You are a delicious shock to them, sir.”

“Rather hypocritical, wouldn’t you say? They seem to have forgotten they are descended from pirates.”

“What a pity! My family is inordinately fond of their piratical connections.”

“So one hears, Lady Munroe. Indeed ‘tis said that you have an … intimate acquaintance with the
piratical sort. Is it true?”

“One hears that you have an intimate acquaintance with dancers, opera singers, cheats, and three generations of the same family,” she replied with asperity. “One hears a great many things, my lord. My cousin is a privateer, and my brother, Lord Huntington, has been known to dabble on occasion, so yes, I suppose it
is
true.”

“I am sorry, Sarah … Lady Munroe. Please forgive my clumsiness. You interest and unsettle me, and I find myself curious as to whether you have any significant attachments. It was impertinent and I apologize.” If he’d expected an answer to that, he didn’t get one. The lady appeared to be gripped by a sudden melancholy, and shortly thereafter, she excused herself to go to bed. Alone.

Killigrew was confused. She was unlike any female he’d ever met. She was far freer in her speech, dress, and manner than any of the respectable women he knew, but she had a genuineness and grace that belied her being a strumpet, aristocratic or otherwise. To add to the confusion, her conversation, education, and sense of humor were more like a man’s than a woman’s. To a jaded rake, she presented a novel and intensely appealing challenge.

The next morning the house shuddered as angry gusts of wind howled and shrieked outside, as if furious at being denied entry. Drifts piled deep against the walls, burying the driveway, and Sarah knew she
wasn’t going anywhere.

Over the next three days, Killigrew waged a tireless campaign of charm and seduction. They bantered over chess and cards, their conversations wide-ranging and delightful, both of them surprised at the breadth of the other’s interests, and depth of knowledge. Killigrew found himself laughing more than he’d ever done, while Sarah found herself laughing for the first time in a very long while.

Intent on the hunt, the earl failed to notice, that the more he exerted himself to entice and capture, the more securely he was caught. On the third day of the storm, he tracked her to the library. She was in breeches again. He tilted his head sideways, enjoying the view and trying to see her book. “Still reading
Robinson Crusoe?”
he asked, crossing the room to sprawl on the settee beside her.

“Yes, William, I’m almost done. The weather looks to be clearing, and I hope to finish it before I leave tomorrow,” she said, marking her page with her finger and closing the book in her lap. “Have you read it?”

“Yes, and I shan’t tell you the end. Unless you beg me prettily, of course.”

“Do you think it possible for a man to disappear that way? To be alive somewhere when everyone else has given him up for dead?”

“I suppose it must be. The book is said to be based on a true story. Some Scotsman, Alexander Selkirk, got himself in trouble while playing at pirates, and was
marooned for four and a half years.”

Sarah nodded thoughtfully and leaned back against the cushions. He lifted his arm carefully, reaching it tentatively around her shoulders, and almost without thought, she sighed and leaned back into him. She’d been sad and alone for such a long time. It had been over two years since she’d felt the warmth and the strength of a man pressed against her. She’d forgotten how wonderful it felt.

Easing the book from her grasp, he placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her closer, leaning forward until his lips brushed hers.

It had been so long! Flooded with sensation, Sarah turned fully into his embrace, but as he deepened the kiss, the memory of other arms and other lips intruded.
Good God! What’s wrong with me?
she thought in despair, blinking back tears and pulling away.

“I had not thought you to be coy, madam,” Killigrew said, letting her go. “Surely I did not mistake your interest?”
So we’re to play this tired old game
, he thought.
How very disappointing
.

“No, my lord, you did not,” she said, surprising him. “I just … I’m really very sorry. I thought that I could … that is, I wanted … Oh hell and damnation! I’m so sick of this!” she cried, bursting into tears.

Nonplussed, he searched for a handkerchief. Her tears were clearly genuine, but he had no idea what he’d done to provoke them. “Take this, my dear. I do apologize if I’ve caused you distress. I assumed you
were as eager as I.”

“It’s not you, my lord, and I suppose you might call me Sarah now that you’ve kissed me,” she said, drying her eyes. “You asked me a few days ago if I had any significant attachments and I didn’t answer you. I really didn’t know how. There is someone … was someone … I don’t know! Someone I love very much. I haven’t seen him for a very long time. Two years ago he simply vanished, swept into the sea.”

“Ah. I’m so sorry.”

“He … My brother and my cousin tell me that he’s dead, but I find it very hard to believe. There is no proof of it, you see, and I promised him that I’d wait for him as long as it takes. Lately I’ve been so confused. I’m really very sorry, William. It was not my intent to lead you on. I’m just so tired of being alone and I find you so amusing and appealing. I thought maybe …”

“Please don’t apologize, my dear,” he said, patting her hand and rising to fetch her a brandy. “I don’t deserve it. I’m a conscienceless rogue, bent on seduction, and deserved a good set down. It must be deuced awkward for you,” he continued, returning with two drinks and lounging alongside her again, this time keeping his hands to himself. “If you accept that he’s dead, you betray your promise to him if he’s yet alive.”

“Yes, exactly! No one seems to understand that. And I don’t feel that he
is
dead. Do you see?”

“I do. But what if you’re wrong? If you spend
your life waiting for a dead man, you deny yourself the future and spend your life in sorrow. Would he expect that of you, my dear?” he asked gently.

“No, he wouldn’t. I’m certain of it. But then he’s never really expected anything much from anyone.”

“So … you will wait?”

“I will wait. But I will continue on with my life and stop being such a bloody martyr about it.”

“How long
does
one wait in such circumstances?”

“It’s a very good question, William. I don’t know the answer, but I expect that somehow I’ll recognize when it’s been long enough.”

“And what of me, fair Gypsy? Was I to be a purely medicinal diversion, a cure for the melancholy, or do you like me, if only a little?”

“False humility ill becomes you, Killigrew. You are well aware that I like you rather a lot.”

Grinning broadly, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Then perhaps you would allow me to call upon you, should my affairs bring me to Cornwall in the future.”

“I should be most delighted,” she said with an answering grin.

The snow had changed to rain overnight, followed
by mild winds, and by morning the roads were rapidly drying out. Sarah spent part of the morning negotiating an exchange of broodmares with the new earl, and the rest of it getting ready to resume her journey. She was dressed in breeches and boots, and just about to take her leave when two carriages came rolling up the drive. They stopped in a commotion of hooves and greetings and flouncing petticoats, and spilled a glittering assortment of lords and ladies into the courtyard.

“Are you certain you can’t stay another day?” Killigrew asked her mischievously.

“Quite certain, my lord,” she said, climbing into her carriage and offering him her hand.

“’Pon my word, I do believe that’s the Gypsy Countess, and dressed as a lad!” one of the gentleman remarked. “Wonder what she’s doing here?”

“I should think that would be obvious,” a glacial blonde responded, to amused titters.

“Oh, dear me! Have I annoyed your mistress, William?” Sarah asked sweetly.

“What? Do you mean Barbara? Lady Wilmont? You wound me, dear girl! I am known for my good taste and fondness for a challenge.”

Sarah’s eyes lit with amusement as Killigrew kissed her hand. “Well, in any case, I am publicly accounted one of your discards now, my lord. The least you can do is offer me a mare, as compensation for accepting my
congé
with such dignity.”

“And so I shall, Countess, if you promise not
to disclose that ‘twas you who rejected me,” he said, walking alongside her coach.

“Well, my reputation is already ruined. I see no point in damaging yours. Your secret is safe with me. Till we meet again, sir.”

“Till we meet again, Sarah,” he said with a laugh, rapping on the side of the coach and stepping back. He stood in the drive watching her leave, even as his company clamored for his attention. So … his rival was a dead man. He would have to be, to leave such a jewel unattended. It presented some interesting difficulties, but nothing insurmountable. With a satisfied smile, the Earl of Falmouth returned to his guests.

Sarah loved approaching London after dark. From eight miles out, the roads were bordered by lamps lit with crystal balls, providing a beautiful glow that transformed the squalid and mundane into something magical, and full of promise. One never knew what adventure might await. The town house was situated in the west end overlooking a pleasant square. The skeleton staff, forewarned by Ross, had managed to open and air it and fill it with the welcoming odor of roast beef and baked bread. Sarah unpacked, had her dinner, and tumbled into bed, exhausted.

The next few days were busy ones. She visited the circulating library on Bond Street, and bought Christmas presents for Jamie, Ross, and Davey. Going through her mail, she found several interesting invitations. Her family had kept up a lively correspondence with many of the leading thinkers of the age, and though she was not welcomed by the best society, she was warmly received by the most interesting.

She visited galleries and museums and attended the salon of Lady Webster, a semirespectable friend from before her marriage, who was now a writer. Sarah found these evenings in the company of writers, scientists, musicians, and others from the demimonde, far more interesting than any she might have spent in the stifling bosom of the ton. The night she enjoyed the most, however, was one she spent at William Herschel’s, an astronomer friend and music teacher who had constructed a large telescope with the aid of his brother and sister, from which they had discovered two satellites of Saturn.

Heading home, she realized that she’d crowded more living in the past three weeks than she’d done in the last two years. It was a grand day. The air was crisp, the sky was clear, and she was glad and grateful to be alive. She’d really only had a year with Gabriel, and come the spring it would be two and a half years since he’d left her. She thought about what William Killigrew had said, and knew that he was right. Gabriel would never expect her to wait.

She wondered what life might have been like had he returned home with Davey, as he was supposed to do. She’d thought never to marry again. Her own experience, and what she’d witnessed amongst her friends and acquaintances, had convinced her that she would never let any man rule her body, her fortune, or her life, but Gabriel had been different. She knew he’d been faithful to her, much against the fashion, and much to the disappointment of the maids and village girls. He’d had no thought of ruling her, content to be friend and lover, and he’d been far more concerned about leaving her fortune to her own use than she was. Above all, he’d taught her the joy and pleasure a man could give a woman. Her lips and toes curled as she remembered his heated kisses. She’d not hesitated an instant when he’d come to her in the night asking her to marry him, and she didn’t regret it now. At least she’d had that time with him.