Sweet Awakening (41 page)

Obviously he was missed. Obviously Sabrina and Clare and Andrew would have instigated a search. And what good would that do, he would think desperately, lying awake in the dark, trying to breathe through his mouth, but unable to for very long, for it dried his throat out so and they didn’t give him enough water, damn their eyes.

Every night, his thoughts eventually turned to Clare. Just as he had recalled all the poetry he knew, he would lie there sleepless and go over every memory he had of his wife, from the first time he had met her. He could see her shy face as she got down from the carriage that first brought her to Whitton. The hero-worship in her eyes when he rescued her from Lucy Kirkman. The warmth and affection she had always shown him. He even remembered, though he did not want to, the way her face had lit up with love and happiness when she looked up at Justin Rainsborough after taking her vows.

And then there was the Clare who returned to London looking like a wraith. Why had he not seen the truth then? Why had he assumed, like everyone else, that she was just a long time recovering from her miscarriage? He claimed to love her, yet he had never once guessed the truth of her marriage.

Then Clare at the inquest, when she told the truth and described the beating and the kicking and the choking. He had felt such a surge of protective love for her. But even then, he had not understood her. And, God forgive him, there was a small piece of him that
was
angry at her, that did think, “If she had married
me,
had ever looked at me like that, none of it would have happened.”

Clare was right. He had never faced his deepest feelings about her marriage. He had held onto his image of himself as her protector, as her dear friend. A dear friend would surely want the woman he loved to be happy, even if with someone else. And he had, that was true enough. But he had also been furious with her for rejecting him, and had never been willing to admit it until now.

He would push himself further to imagine the scene in the Rainsborough library. He would let Clare be there, let her be standing there, poker in hand, dress blood-soaked, terrified her husband was not really dead.

He had to let himself see and love that Clare: he knew that now. He just wasn’t sure he could do it. And so when he couldn’t be there in that library any longer, he would go back to that first summer and start all over again. Somehow he had to love her, whole and entire. If—no— when he got out of this hellhole he wanted to be able to take her face gently between his hands and look deep into her eyes, seeing everything and loving everything she was.

* * * *

Clare had given up on the Bow Street Runner early in the game. It was clear that the proprietors of St. James Street would have wanted no connection made between them and the kidnappers, and therefore it was highly unlikely that they would be contacted at the gaming hell.

She would never get into St. James Street herself, of course, or else she would have been there by the second day. No, she would have to get one of them to come to her. If they were all correct, Giles would not have given them his name, and Whitton would mean nothing to them.

Accordingly, the day after she had purchased the pistol, the day before the trial, she sat down and carefully penned a note, which she handed to James Footman.

“I want you to take this to Mr. Oldfield at 75 St. James Street. I have asked him to wait on me this afternoon, so wait for a reply.”

James bowed and left. All the servants were of course aware of what had happened, what with Lord Whitton gone, Andrew More around all the time, and that trial to start on the morrow. He probably should not be letting his mistress do this, he thought, as he lingered on the steps and watched Andrew More coming up the street. He should give this note to Mr. More and let him deal with it. But his first loyalty was to Lady Whitton. Hiring a Runner had seemingly done no good. Maybe a lady’s tears would do more. And no harm could come to her in the house, after all. And so he merely bowed to Andrew as he passed him and hurried down the street.

“Do you have any news, Andrew?” Clare asked when he was shown into the drawing room. She and Sabrina asked the same questions every day and received the same answer: “No, not yet.”

“Is Sabrina in, Clare?”

“She is, and I am worried about her.”

Andrew looked immediately concerned as she had known he would.

“I think she needs an outing this afternoon, but I could not persuade her to accompany me to the park. Perhaps you could, Andrew.”

“I can try.”

Clare rang for Henley. “Henley, can you send upstairs to Lady Sabrina and tell her Mr. More is here.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Tomorrow is the trial, Andrew. Do you really think they will release Giles?”

“As soon as he tells them who he is. Which he will do tomorrow, I am sure.”

Are you really, Andrew? wondered Clare. Why would the kidnappers want to place themselves in any danger? Once they found out they had seized a peer of the realm, wouldn’t they want to silence him, rather than have him go to the authorities?

Andrew’s eyes went to the door when Sabrina entered. She
did
look wretched, thought Clare, as of course, they all were.

“Sabrina, Andrew was just asking if we would like to go for a stroll in the park. I have some correspondence to catch up on, but perhaps you could keep him company?”

“It is a lovely day, Sabrina. We would both be the better for a little exercise,” Andrew said encouragingly.

“Oh, I am sure you have cooked up something between you, but yes, all right. I will go. Just let me get my pelisse.”

“Thank you, Andrew,” said Clare.

“No need, my dear. You know that it is my pleasure.”

“And a bit painful, too, I think, my friend.”

“A bit painful, yes,” he admitted.

“Yet only because of your own stubborn sense of honor, I think?”

“So she has told you?”

“Not until I had guessed already.”

“You must understand my reasons, Clare.”

Clare smiled. “Oh, I do, Andrew. But honor has so little to do with love.”

They heard Sabrina’s step in the hall, and Andrew bowed his good-bye.

* * * *

As they walked toward the park, Andrew stole a glance at his companion’s face. Sabrina, who had never in his memory looked anything but vibrant and alive was like a washed-out watercolor. Even Clare had more life in her face. “Have you been eating and sleeping, Brina?” he asked her gently.

“Do I look that hagged, then, Andrew?" she answered, attempting a light, teasing tone.

“Don’t try to evade me, my dear. I think this ordeal has been as hard on you as on Clare. Perhaps harder, because of your special bond with Giles.”

“Please don’t be too kind, Andrew,” Sabrina responded in a voice choked with tears, “or I will be completely undone. And I must hold myself together for Clare’s sake.”

“I think Clare is holding up very well, considering. In fact, this morning, she looked more energetic than she has in days. Almost as though she had something to accomplish.”

“Perhaps it was only getting us out of the house together,” said Sabrina with a smile.

They were crossing the thoroughfare at the entrance to the park, and Andrew had to concentrate on getting Sabrina safely through the traffic. It wasn’t until they were in the park and down one of the side paths that he responded to her.

“This is the first time we have been alone since this summer,” he admitted.

“Yes, you have kept yourself quite scarce,” she said with a tinge of bitterness in her voice. “Please don’t remind me of my foolishness.”

“Do you know what Giles came to see me about that evening? He came to talk about Clare. It seems they have been having their problems.”

“I know. It all seemed to start out very well, but something happened, and they are no longer ... there has been some sort of estrangement.”

“Giles told me that Clare accused him of not being able to love the woman she has become. That he can’t let himself admit to the reality of the past two years. What do you think of that, Sabrina?”

“I believe she may be right,” Sabrina answered thoughtfully. “We all had a certain picture of Clare in our minds, didn’t we? But you and I seem to have been able to adjust to the changes. You would think it would not be so. That Giles, who has loved her for years, would find it easier to appreciate the way she has changed,” Sabrina added wonderingly.

“I think love blinds people in different ways,” said Andrew quietly.

Sabrina hesitated. “Yes, it does,” she answered, wondering where their conversation was going.

“For instance,” Andrew continued matter-of-factly, “I have always seen you as impetuous and headstrong.”

“A madcap, hoydenish girl? Is that all you saw, Andrew?”

“I think it was all I wanted to see. I loved you for it, of course.”

Sabrina’s breath caught in her throat.

“You were such a lovely counterpoint to Giles’s quiet kindness. But my love for that lively mischievous girl blinded me to the vulnerability of the woman you grew into.”

They had come to a side path, and Andrew, linking his arm through Sabrina’s, led her down a few hundred yards.

“Ah, yes, here it is,” he said as they came upon a small wrought-iron bench, and sat them down on it.

He turned to Sabrina and continued: “Even when you asked me to marry you ...”

“I
never
asked you to marry me, Andrew.”

“Everything but, my dear,” he said, his eyes crinkling up as he gave her one of his most charming smiles. “I still saw myself as the only one in a vulnerable position. After all, I am a ...”

“Younger son. I know,” she answered with mock exasperation.

“Youngest. I’d loved you for years, you know, but had schooled myself very well to see the situation from one side only.”

“I see.” Sabrina sat very still. “And have things changed, Andrew?” she asked, clasping her hands together to keep them from trembling.

“I am not sure that anything has changed, Sabrina.”

She thought she had never felt so empty.

“But I see what there is very differently now. For instance, now I can see that you need me. I never saw that before.”

Sabrina felt that she had been to hell and come back in one instant.

“Perhaps I was never very good at showing you, Andrew.” Her whole frame was trembling now, a reaction to the strain of the past week and her sense that her whole life was about to change.

“Giles and I talked about more than his marriage, Sabrina. He said he would welcome me as a brother-in-law. He said I was as stupid and proud as you had accused me of being.” As he was speaking, Andrew felt her shivering and without thinking, put his arm around her and drew her under his cloak.

It took a few minutes, but slowly the warmth of his body penetrated to hers, and she relaxed against him.

“I am hoping that your proposal is still open, Sabrina,” said Andrew softly, lifting her chin with his finger.

“I did
not
propose to you, Andrew.”

“Then I suppose I will have to propose to you,” he said with a grin. “Sabrina, will you be my wife?”

“Do you love me, Andrew?”

“Haven’t I been telling you that?”

“Not in the last few minutes, Andrew.”

“I love you, Sabrina Whitton.”

“And I love you, Andrew More,” she whispered, lifting her face up to his and closing her eyes.

He leaned down and kissed her gently. “I like the way you fit right into my body, my love. And it is good to know that I can offer you comfort.”

“And I need your comfort so, Andrew.” Tears started to stream down her cheeks, and she brushed them away quickly, but not before he realized she was crying.

“I am sure Giles is all right, Brina. He will be released as soon as the trial begins and they see they have the wrong man.”

“Oh, Andrew, I am sorry to spoil this moment. It isn’t that I don’t want you to continue kissing me.”

“There will be plenty of time for kisses and more, I promise you that, my dear. Now isn’t the time to celebrate anyway. But we could go back and tell Clare the news? If you are sure you can be satisfied with a disreputable barrister. You could have had anyone, even the viscount himself!”

“I have always only wanted you, Andrew.” They started slowly back down the path, this time with Andrew’s arm around her waist. “And I suspect Miss Lucy Kirkman has her claws in your brother, whether he knows it or not.”

Clare’s note had invited Mr. Oldfield to call upon Lady Whitton immediately to discuss a way of settling her brother’s gambling debts. The name Whitton could mean nothing to him, and she hoped that Lady Whitton’s forgetfulness about mentioning her “brother’s” name would be overlooked in the interest of obtaining money.

She was lucky. Mr. Oldfield had been in. Mr. Oldfield was available to Lady Whitton. Mr. Oldfield showed up on the doorstep twenty minutes after she had sent her note, eager to discover just who Lady Whitton’s brother was: young Payne, who owed three hundred pounds, or Lieutenant Britton, who had dropped even more two nights ago.

Mr. Oldfield’s appearance surprised Clare. She had expected the proprietor of a gaming hell to be vulgar and common. But Mr. Oldfield was a well-built, quietly dressed man of medium height who bowed politely to her and waited for her to speak.

“Thank you so much for responding so quickly to my note, Mr. Oldfield.”

“It is my pleasure, Lady Whitton.”

Clare had her embroidery basket next to her on the sofa, and she ran her fingers over the silks as she spoke. “You see, I only found out about my brother’s troubles last night,” she added. “I have asked my husband to help my brother in the past, but a few weeks ago he declared it was the last time. My brother is young and foolish, though, and told me he went back one last time to the tables so he could repay my lord. Of course, he lost everything.”

Mr. Oldfield looked appropriately sympathetic and clucked his tongue. “Young men are often like that, my lady. It is sad, but we can do little about it when they insist upon playing until they bleed themselves dry.”