The Offer (22 page)

As the waltz drew to a close, he said, “Are you convinced now that your grandfather is on the mend?”

A genuine smile lit up her face. “Oh yes, Phillip. But his handwriting isn't as firm as it used to be. That frightens me.”

“His handwriting will recover fully, just as the rest of him will.”

The music stopped and Phillip drew her into his arms and kissed her lightly on her mouth. “Well done. It's over.” He kissed her hair amid applause and laughter from the ladies and gentlemen. He realized for the first time just how short she was. The top of her head barely came to his neck. Naturally he hadn't realized it before. Most of the time she'd been flat on her back in bed.

He also realized that she was now his—his responsibility and the future mother of his children. Now that was a thought to make a man pause.

He drew her forward to stand at his side to receive their guests' parting congratulations. A few were genuinely kind. More were cold, but polite. Some of the gentlemen gave her looks that if Phillip had seen, would have angered him. But for the most part, all had gone well.

One of the last guests to leave was Lady Barresford. She paused at Sabrina's side. “You've managed to
carry this off quite well, niece. You are more than fortunate that the viscount is an honorable man.”

“Yes, that is quite true. Thank you, Aunt.” She kept her eyes fastened to a mirror just behind her aunt's right shoulder.

Lady Barresford nodded toward the viscount. “I bid you good evening, my lord. I leave you to your blushing bride.”

Phillip took Sabrina's hand, raised it to his lips, and lightly kissed her knuckles. “Sabrina is too tired to blush, ma'am, though I'm certain that she would be inclined to do so at the tasteless comments she's been forced to endure this evening.”

“That's as may be,” Lady Barresford said, and drew herself up.

Sabrina saw with relief that Greybar was hovering beside Lady Barresford, her ermine wrap on his arm. “Thank you, Greybar. Her ladyship is on the point of leaving. Good night, Aunt.”

Lady Barresford gave her a look that promised more spiteful words, then allowed Greybar to assist her into her wrap. “Well, niece, you've made your bed, and now you may lie in it.”

It was a good shot, she knew it, but Sabrina just stared at her, her head cocked to one side. One thick braid looked in danger of falling. “Men adore innocence,” Lady Barresford added, then turned on her heel, whipped the ermine wrap over her shoulder, and marched out the front door.

Phillip turned to Sabrina. “Ignore her. Ignore all of them. Are you ready to sleep now, Sabrina?”

She gazed up at him uncertainly.

He smiled down at her as he said, “You're not to worry about a thing. Trust me, Sabrina.” He wasn't a randy boy with no control. The last thing he
wanted to do was scare her witless. He'd said enough. He'd give her time to settle in, time to get to know him.

He supposed he needed time as well. He'd never had a wife before. He couldn't begin to imagine the adjustment that he would have to make in his very pleasant life. “Greybar told me that horrible maid, Hickles, is well and truly gone. He said Doris would suit you very well. I'll send her to you.” He patted her hand and turned away.

 

“I've never seen an angel with beautiful red hair like yours, my lady,” Doris said. “Even the pictures I've seen in books, all the angels are the loveliest little blond girls, with huge blue eyes. But I think a red-haired angel would be a nice change. She'd look just like you.” If only you weren't so pale and lifeless, she thought as she twitched a beautifully embroidered batiste nightgown into place. She pictured his lordship in her mind and imagined herself swooning in his arms. Now there was a gentleman to please a lady. Such charm he had, such wicked eyes and manners, not that she'd ever had them turned on her. But she wasn't his wife. This little one who looked more frightened than a rabbit in the sight of a hunter's gun was the new viscountess. She didn't look like a loose girl who'd lost her virginity to the viscount and been lucky enough to have him marry her. She looked rather pathetic, except for all that lovely red hair and those strange eyes that probably would have gotten her burned at the stake in another time and place. No, she didn't look like the viscount could charm her out of her chemise.

Sabrina nodded abstractedly, and Doris smiled to herself. She couldn't imagine any lady not having a
really fine time in bed with his lordship, even this pale little creature. She laid down the hairbrush and stepped back. “Can I be getting you anything else, my lady?”

“No, thank you, Doris.”

Doris curtsied and quietly closed the door behind her.

Sabrina turned slowly from the mirror and let her eyes rove again over the large bedchamber. It was severe and masculine, not at all unlike its master, she thought. She looked at the huge bed, a carved oak affair set on a dais in the middle of the bedchamber, with no hangings to soften its stark presence. She picked up a branch of candles, carried it to the bed, and set it on the bedside table. Phillip had told her that carpenters would be at her disposal to redo the adjoining bedchamber that had been his mother's. He'd been sorry but there hadn't been time to make it right in time for her. So she had to sleep in this bed tonight.

With him. She'd never slept with a man before. Well, she had, when she'd been fevered and he'd held her, but that wasn't real, that wasn't something that she'd actually chosen to be a party to, something she'd experienced as she was sure she would experience this.

She was married. She'd even offered herself to him as part of the bargain. She didn't remember that he'd been very enthusiastic.

Sabrina slipped in between the sheets and drew the covers up to her chin. She stared up at the dark oak beams that crisscrossed the length of the ceiling. She strained to hear Phillip's footsteps. She felt the nightgown slide over her skin as she drew her knees up to her chest.

Phillip would be kind. There was no reason for him
not to be kind. He wouldn't maul her. Not like Trevor had. He'd told her to trust him, and she would.

The room was so silent. She couldn't bear it. She began humming, hummed and hummed until her throat hurt.

He didn't come.

At least she knew her husband a lot better than every other girl knew her bridegroom. He'd given her a bath. He'd told her many of his adventures. He'd cooked for her. She'd tried to escape him that one miserable night but his damned horse wouldn't budge. And the other, her woman's monthly flow. He even knew about things like that. He'd even helped her. She squeezed her eyes closed.

Yes, she knew Phillip. Or, more's the truth, he knew her, inside and out.

The clock on the mantel stroked one long single stroke. Perhaps he wasn't coming to her. But where would he sleep? She was in his bed. If he hadn't wanted her here, then he should have said something. Was he perhaps sleeping in a guest chamber down the corridor? She got out of the huge bed.

It wasn't fair that Phillip not sleep in his own bed. It was his home, his bed. She lit a candle and managed to get on her dressing gown. Barefoot, she opened the bedchamber door. She didn't hear anything. Slowly she walked down the vast corridor, opening each door along the way.

Empty. They were all empty. Where was he?

She walked downstairs, carefully cupping the slender candle flame. She finally saw a light coming from beneath a door toward the back of the house. She had no idea what room it was.

She raised her hand to knock, then pressed her ear to the door. She heard nothing at all. She very slowly
turned the doorknob. The door opened silently. It was a man's study of some sort, filled with leather and wainscoting, like her upstairs bedchamber. There was a large winged chair that faced the fireplace. A sluggish fire was burning. She walked silently toward that chair.

Suddenly he rose and faced her. He was still dressed in his evening wear, except he'd pulled his cravat loose and his hair was disheveled. He just stared at her. He was holding a snifter of brandy in his right hand.

“Sabrina?” He took a step toward her, then stopped. “Did something happen? Is something wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

“Oh no. I'm sorry to disturb you, Phillip, but you didn't come to bed. It isn't fair, so I came to find you and tell you to come.”

He shook his head at her, as if he were uncertain what she'd said. He said finally, “Surely this is a very strange offer from a girl who would probably prefer to see any man locked up in chains so he couldn't touch her. Let me get this straight. You want me to come to my bedchamber?”

“Yes, it's only right. You shouldn't be down here. This is your home.”

“Well, I suppose it's now your home as well. Let me get this straight again. You want me to come to my bedchamber? With you there as well?”

“Of course. Why else would I come to find you? If you would prefer that I not be there with you, then you must simply say so. It won't hurt my feelings. Surely we know each other well enough not to see hurt where none is intended.” It was strange, but in that instant, he would have sworn that he heard hurt in her voice as she said, “You weren't impressed with me offering myself. Therefore you needn't worry
because I do understand. It's a very large bed. I'm certain that there's more than enough space for both of us. We won't have to disturb each other.”

He cleared his throat. He plowed his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “This is excessively strange, Sabrina. I had meant to speak to you about sex, no, that's too stark a word. No, I had meant to speak to you about intimacy between a husband and wife, but I decided to do it tomorrow. You're very tired. You don't need to have any of this tonight. You should be asleep. You shouldn't be wandering about at one o'clock in the morning, wearing that embroidered thing that makes you look really quite lovely.” He stopped. “Well?”

She looked down at her toes. She was glad she was standing on a thick rug. The wooden floor would be cold. She cleared her throat. “Well what? Listen, Phillip, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to go to sleep and then tomorrow when there aren't any bruises under your eyes and you aren't as white as newly laundered sheets, I want to very gently speak to you about how a man and his wife do things at night, in bed, in the dark. But you're here and it's very late, and you don't look all that pale anymore.” He stopped, then cursed.

“That was very good. I'd never heard any curse involving a horse's bodily parts before.”

“Forget that, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that you've taken me by surprise.”

“I'm just here to see if you want to come to bed, Phillip,” she said patiently. “It's very late, just like you said. You should be in bed. You probably have many things planned on the morrow. You need your rest. You've done so much this week. You've done so much for me.”

“All right,” he said and walked to her. She took a step back. He held out his hand but she didn't give him hers. She gave him the candle.

He smiled down at her then, a gentle smile, the sort of smile a parent would bestow on a child.

“You're very brave, Sabrina.” He gave her back the candle. He patted her cheek. “Go to bed. Tomorrow, one of us can move into another bedchamber.”

“You'll also talk to me about those other things as well?”

He nodded at her again before she left. Phillip waited in the drawing room until he heard the door of the study open and close. He pictured her walking back up the stairs, that lovely white gown billowing ever so slightly around her bare ankles. Even if he hadn't had woman for a year, even if he was chewing on his knuckles, even if lust was threatening to drive him over the edge, he wouldn't have touched that innocent fairy creature. And she'd sought him out, offering herself to him. He felt a surge of lust and with it a bolt of anger at himself. He wouldn't defile her, scare her, as he knew any sort of lovemaking would.

No, he'd protect her from himself. He would leave. Greybar was standing right outside the drawing room door beaming. “It was a splendid occasion, my lord.”

Phillip nodded, his thoughts still on Sabrina, on protecting her. “Yes, thank everyone for me, Greybar.”

“Allow me and the entire staff to wish you and the viscountess happiness.” Greybar hoped his master would understand his subtlety, but he wasn't too hopeful. His lordship had the look of a man on a mission after drinking a good deal of brandy. Why was he leaving? On his wedding night? He'd watched from
the shadows as the new viscountess had trailed back up the stairs, alone. Then the truth struck him right between the eyes. His lordship was being noble. Even the lowest scullery maid was well aware of the facts surrounding the viscount's hurried wedding. “Poor little mite,” Mrs. Hawley, the housekeeper, had said earlier that day, shaking her soft gray curls, of which she was inordinately proud, “after the wedding we'll keep her safe and sound with us.”

Greybar was very proud of his master at that moment. He'd risen above himself. He was showing immense gallantry. He wasn't giving in to a man's baser instincts. No, as a gentleman with money, he would take those instincts elsewhere, where they belonged, and not upstairs where that poor scared little girl was now lying in her virginal nightgown, quite alone and doubtless better off that way. Not that a newly married man should visit his mistress, but perhaps in this case, it was more well done of him than not. The master was young and lusty. Because he didn't want to scare his little wife out of her wits, he was taking himself off to relieve himself elsewhere.