Four In Hand (21 page)

“Guardian, ha! Love, more like!”

One black brow rose haughtily.

“Do you deny it? No, of course not! Oh, there are whispers aplenty, let me tell you. But they’re as nothing to the storm there’ll be when I get through with you. I’ll tell—Ow!”

Emma broke off and looked down at her wrist, imprisoned in Max’s right hand. “L…let me go. Max, you’re hurting me.”

“Emma, you’ll say nothing.”

Lady Mortland looked up and was suddenly frightened. Max nodded, a gentle smile, which was quite terrifyingly cold, on his lips. “Listen carefully, Emma, for I’ll say this once only. You’ll not, verbally or otherwise, malign my ward—any of my wards—in any way whatever. Because, if you do, rest assured I’ll hear about it. Should that happen, I’ll ensure your stepson learns of the honours you do his father’s memory by your retired lifestyle. Your income derives from the family estates, does it not?”

Emma had paled. “You…you wouldn’t.”

Max released her. “No. You’re quite right. I wouldn’t,” he said. “Not unless you do first. Then, you may be certain that I would.” He viewed the woman before him, with understanding if not compassion. “Leave be, Emma. What Caroline has was never yours and you know it. I suggest you look to other fields.”

With a nod, Max left Lady Mortland and returned through the empty corridors to his box.

Caroline turned as he resumed his seat. She studied his face for a moment, then leaned back to whisper, “Is anything wrong?”

Max’s gaze rested on her sweet face, concern for his peace of mind the only emotion visible. He smiled reassuringly and shook his head. “A minor matter of no moment.” In the darkness he reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. With a smile, Caroline returned her attention to the stage. When she made no move to withdraw her hand, Max continued to hold it, mimicking Martin, placating his conscience with the observation that, in the dark, no one could see the Duke of Twyford holding hands with his eldest ward.

Execution of the first phase of the Twinnings’ master plot to rescue Amanda and Sir Ralph from the machinations of Mrs. Crowbridge fell to Sarah. An evening concert was selected as the venue most conducive to success. As Sir Ralph was tone deaf, enticing him from the real pleasure of listening to the dramatic voice of
Senorita Muscarina
, the Spanish soprano engaged for the evening, proved easier than Sarah had feared.

Sir Ralph was quite content to escort Miss Sarah for a stroll on the balcony, ostensibly to relieve the stuffiness in Miss Twinning’s head. In the company of the rest of the
ton
, he knew Sarah was pining away and thus, he reasoned, he was safe in her company. That she was one of the more outstandingly opulent beauties he had ever set eyes on simply made life more complete. It was rare that he felt at ease with such women and his time in London had made him, more than once, wish he was back in the less demanding backwoods of Gloucestershire. Even now, despite his successful courtship of the beautiful, the effervescent, the gorgeous Arabella Twinning, there were times Harriet Jenkins’s face reminded him of how much more comfortable their almost finalized relationship had been. In fact, although he tried his best to ignore them, doubts kept appearing in his mind, of whether he would be able to live up to Arabella’s expectations once they were wed. He was beginning to understand that girls like Arabella—well, she was a woman, really—were used to receiving the most specific advances from the more hardened of the male population. Sir Ralph swallowed nervously, woefully aware that he lacked the abilities to compete with such gentlemen. He glanced at the pale face of the beauty beside him. A frown marred her smooth brow. He relaxed. Clearly, Miss Sarah’s mind was not bent on illicit dalliance.

In thinking this, Sir Ralph could not have been further from the truth. Sarah’s frown was engendered by her futile attempts to repress the surge of longing that had swept through her—a relic of that fateful evening in Lady Overton’s shrubbery, she felt sure—when she had seen Darcy Hamilton’s tall figure negligently propped by the door. She had felt the weight of his gaze upon her and, turning to seek its source, had met his eyes across the room. Fool that she was! She had had to fight to keep herself in her seat and not run across the room and throw herself into his arms. Then, an arch look from Arabella, unaware of Lord Darcy’s return, had reminded her of her duty. She had put her hand to her head and Lizzie had promptly asked if she was feeling the thing. It had been easy enough to claim Sir Ralph’s escort and leave the music-room. But the thunderous look in Darcy’s eyes as she did so had tied her stomach in knots.

Pushing her own concerns abruptly aside, she transferred her attention to the man beside her. “Sir Ralph, I hope you won’t mind if I speak to you on a matter of some delicacy?”

Taken aback, Sir Ralph goggled.

Sarah ignored his startled expression. Harriet had warned her how he would react. It was her job to lead him by the nose. “I’m afraid things have reached a head with Arabella. I know it’s not obvious; she’s so reticent about such things. But I feel it’s my duty to try to explain it to you. She’s in such low spirits. Something must be done or she may even go into a decline.”

It was on the tip of Sir Ralph’s tongue to say that he had thought it was Sarah who was going into the decline. And the suggestion that Arabella, last seen with an enchanting sparkle in her big eyes, was in low spirits confused him utterly. But Sarah’s next comment succeeded in riveting his mind. “You’re the only one who can save her.”

The practical tone in which Sarah brought out her statement lent it far greater weight than a more dramatic declaration. In the event, Sir Ralph’s attention was all hers. “You see, although she would flay me alive for telling you, you should know that she was very seriously taken with a gentleman earlier in the Season, before you arrived. He played on her sensibilities and she was so vulnerable. Unfortunately, he was not interested in marriage. I’m sure I can rely on your discretion. Luckily, she learned of his true intentions before he had time to achieve them. But her heart was sorely bruised, of course. Now that she’s found such solace in your company, we had hoped, my sisters and I, that you would not let her down.”

Sir Ralph was heard to mumble that he had no intention of letting Miss Arabella down.

“Ah, but you see,” said Sarah, warming to her task, “what she needs is to be taken out of herself. Some excitement that would divert her from the present round of balls and parties and let her forget her past hurts in her enjoyment of a new love.”

Sir Ralph, quite carried away by her eloquence, muttered that yes, he could quite see the point in that

“So you see, Sir Ralph, it’s imperative that she be swept off her feet. She’s very romantically inclined, you know.”

Sir Ralph, obediently responding to his cue, declared he was only too ready to do whatever was necessary to ensure Arabella’s happiness.

Sarah smiled warmly, “In that case, I can tell you exactly what you must do.”

———

It took Sarah nearly half an hour to conclude her instructions to Sir Ralph. Initially, he had been more than a little reluctant even to discuss such an enterprise. But, by dwelling on the depth of Arabella’s need, appealing quite brazenly to poor Sir Ralph’s chivalrous instincts, she had finally wrung from him his sworn agreement to the entire plan.

In a mood of definite self-congratulation, she led the way back to the music-room and, stepping over the door sill, all but walked into Darcy Hamilton. His hand at her elbow steadied her, but, stung by his touch, she abruptly pulled away. Sir Ralph, who had not previously met Lord Darcy, stopped in bewilderment, his eyes going from Sarah’s burning face to his lordship’s pale one. Then, Darcy Hamilton became aware of his presence. “I’ll return Miss Twinning to her seat.”

Responding to the commanding tone, Sir Ralph bowed and departed.

Sarah drew a deep breath. “How dare you?” she uttered furiously as she made to follow Sir Ralph.

But Darcy’s hand on her arm detained her. “What’s that…country bumpkin to you?” The insulting drawl in his voice drew a blaze of fire from Sarah’s eyes.

But before she could wither him where she stood, several heads turned their way. “Sssh!”

Without a word, Darcy turned her and propelled her back out of the door.

“Disgraceful!” said Lady Mailing to Mrs. Benn, nodding by her side.

On the balcony, Sarah stood very still, quivering with rage and a number of other more interesting emotions, directly attributable to the fact that Darcy was standing immediately behind her.

“Perhaps you’d like to explain what you were doing with that gentleman on the balcony for half an hour and more?”

Sarah almost turned, then remembered how close he was. She lifted her chin and kept her temper with an effort. “That’s hardly any affair of yours, my lord.”

Darcy frowned. “As a friend of your guardian—”

At that Sarah did turn, uncaring of the consequences, her eyes flashing, her voice taut. “As a friend of my guardian, you’ve been trying to seduce me ever since you first set eyes on me!”

“True,” countered Darcy, his face like granite. “But not even Max has blamed me for that. Besides,it’s what you Twinning girls expect, isn’t it? Tell me, my dear, how many other lovesick puppies have you had at your feet since I left?”

It was on the tip of Sarah’s tongue to retort that she had had no lack of suitors since his lordship had quit the scene. But, just in time, she saw the crevasse yawning at her feet. In desperation, she willed herself to calm, and coolly met his blue eyes, her own perfectly candid. “Actually, I find the entertainments of the
ton
have palled. Since you ask, I’ve formed the intention of entering a convent. There’s a particularly suitable one, the Ursulines, not far from our old home.”

For undoubtedly the first time in his adult life, Darcy Hamilton was completely nonplussed. A whole range of totally unutterable responses sprang to his lips. He swallowed them all and said, “You wouldn’t be such a fool.”

Sarah’s brows rose coldly. For a moment she held his gaze, then turned haughtily to move past him.

“Sarah!” The word was wrung from him and then she was in his arms, her lips crushed under his, her head spinning as he gathered her more fully to him.

For Sarah, it was a repeat of their interlude in the shrubbery. As the kiss deepened, then deepened again, she allowed herself a few minutes’ grace, to savour the paradise of being once more in his arms.

Then, she gathered her strength and tore herself from his hold. For an instant, they remained frozen, silently staring at each other, their breathing tumultuous, their eyes liquid fire. Abruptly, Sarah turned and walked quickly back into the music-room.

With a long-drawn-out sigh, Darcy Hamilton leaned upon the balustrade, gazing unseeingly at the well-manicured lawns.

———

His Grace of Twyford carefully scrutinized Sarah Twinning’s face as she returned to the music-room and joined her younger sisters in time to applaud the singer’s operatic feats. Caroline, seated beside him, had not noticed her sister’s departure from the room, nor her short-lived return. As his gaze slid gently over Caroline’s face and noted the real pleasure the music had brought her, he decided that he had no intention of informing her of her sister’s strange behaviour. That there was something behind the younger Twinnings’s interest in Sir Ralph Keighly he did not doubt. But whatever it was, he would much prefer that Caroline was not caught up in it. He was becoming accustomed to having her complete attention and found himself reluctant to share it with anyone.

He kept a watchful eye on the door to the balcony and, some minutes later, when the singer was once more in full flight, saw Darcy Hamilton enter and, unobtrusively, leave the room. His eyes turning once more to the bowed dark head of Sarah Twinning, Max sighed. Darcy Hamilton had been one of the coolest hands in the business. But in the case of Sarah Twinning his touch seemed to have deserted him entirely. His friend’s disintegration was painful to watch. He had not yet had time to do more than nod a greeting to Darcy when he had seen him enter the room. Max wondered what conclusions he had derived from his sojourn in Ireland. Whatever they were, he wryly suspected that Darcy would be seeking him out soon enough.

Which, of course, was likely to put a time limit on his own affair. His gaze returned to Caroline and, as if in response, she turned to smile up at him, her eyes unconsciously warm, her lips curving invitingly. Regretfully dismissing the appealing notion of creating a riot by kissing her in the midst of the cream of the ton, Max merely returned the smile and watched as she once more directed her attention to the singer. No, he did not need to worry. She would be his long before her sisters’ affairs became pressing.

———

The masked ball given by Lady Penbright was set to be one of the highlights of an already glittering Season. Her ladyship had spared no expense. Her ballroom was draped in white satin and the terraces and trellised walks with which Penbright House was lavishly endowed were lit by thousands of Greek lanterns. The music of a small orchestra drifted down from the minstrels’ gallery, the notes falling like petals on the gloriously covered heads of the ton. By decree, all the guests wore long dominos, concealing their evening dress, hoods secured over the ladies’ curls to remove even that hint of identity. Fixed masks concealing the upper face were the order, far harder to penetrate than the smaller and often more bizarre hand-held masks, still popular in certain circles for flirtation. By eleven, the Penbright ball had been accorded the ultimate accolade of being declared a sad crush and her ladyship retired from her position by the door to join in the revels with her guests.

Max, wary of the occasion and having yet to divine the younger Twinnings’ secret aim, had taken special note of his wards’ dresses when he arrived at Twyford House to escort them to the ball. Caroline he would have no difficulty in detecting; even if her domino in a subtle shade of aqua had not been virtually unique, the effect her presence had on him, he had long ago noticed, would be sufficient to enable him to unerringly find her in a crowded room blindfold. Sarah, looking slightly peaked but carrying herself with the grace he expected of a Twinning, had flicked a moss-green domino over her satin dress which was in a paler shade of the same colour. Arabella had been struggling to settle the hood of a delicate rose-pink domino over her bright curls while Lizzie’s huge grey eyes had watched from the depths of her lavender hood. Satisfied he had fixed the particular tints in his mind, Max had ushered them forth.