The Offer (21 page)

He gave a low, deep laugh, then hugged her tightly. “A good wife. Now that is an appalling thought.”

Phillip stood by the mantelpiece in the library of his town house. He looked first at Charles Askbridge and then at Rohan Carrington.

“I believe that's the whole of it. Charlie, can you think of anything else to help Rohan get the full picture of this wretched debacle?”

“No, but I don't mind telling you I'm more relieved than I can say that Sabrina has finally come to her senses.”

Rohan Carrington, Baron Mountvale, was shaking his head. “This makes my belly cramp, Phillip. Oh, I know it isn't all that unusual, but to actually hear firsthand how a supposedly honorable man tried to rape an innocent girl under his protection. I really would prefer to kill him. If I were the old earl, I wouldn't want that man's blood in my future generations.”

Phillip nodded. “All of us would like to kill him, but it comes down to preserving the line. The rotter is the next earl, curse his miserable hide, bad blood and all.”

Charles said, “At least Phillip has ensured that Trevor and Elizabeth will tell no more lies about Sabrina.”

“I still would like to kill him. So would Susannah,”
Rohan added, picturing his wife of six months in his mind's eye and her rage upon hearing this.

Phillip said, “My God, the fellow will be my brother-in-law. How's that for a fist in the face?”

Rohan Carrington said, “What do you want us to do, Phillip?”

“I need you to be your most autocratic and persuasive, Rohan. Do you think we can pull it off?”

“Oh yes,” Rohan said, sipping his brandy. “There's but one problem I see looming and that is the aunt, Lady Barresford. If she can be brought around to see reason, then I daresay we shouldn't have much difficulty with the rest of society. It's the relatives that always cause the most problems. It's a pity my mother isn't here. She could deal with Lady Barresford and still have enough energy to waltz the entire night.”

“Ah no, Rohan, leave that lady to me.” He actually rubbed his hands together. “Oh yes, I want the privilege of dealing with that one. Not only will she reinstate Sabrina in her good graces for all society to see, she will also hold the private ceremony at her home. The wedding festivities will, of course, be held here.”

“How much time do we have?” Charles asked.

“I want the ring on her finger by Saturday afternoon. In short, gentlemen, we have four days.” Actually, what Phillip wanted more than anything was to see Sabrina smile.

“This is close to a miracle you're asking for,” Charles said.

“That's right,” Phillip said and grinned at them. “Why do you think I got the two of you over here? Well, shall we take on the world?”

Rohan raised his glass. “To your imminent demise as a bachelor. It's not bad, Phillip, trust me. Susannah's my very best friend. Actually, truth be told, I really can't imagine how I got along without her.”

“I'll remain a bachelor,” Charles said. He drank down the rest of his brandy. “It's a challenge to while away the winter hours. Very well, Phillip. I'm off to White's to begin working my magic.”

“And I,” Rohan said, shaking Phillip's hand, “am off to see my dearest friend, Lady Sally Jersey.”

“Thank you both,” Phillip said. “Really, thank you.”

After Rohan Carrington took his leave, Charles said, “What do you intend to do about Teresa Elliott? It is she, you know, who brought the whole thing about in the first place.”

Phillip shrugged. “If it hadn't been Teresa, it would have been someone else.”

“Teresa wanted you. What if she treats Sabrina badly?”

“Why, I'll ruin her.”

Charles nodded. He believed him.

“Besides, Charles, after we get this damned wedding over with and Sabrina has a chance to settle down, Teresa Elliott will discover quickly that she's no match at all for Viscountess Derencourt.”

 

The following morning, after fortifying himself with two strong cups of Spanish coffee and a haunch of rare sirloin, Phillip drove his curricle to the Barresford town house. Although the day was overcast, he was in good spirits; indeed, he was looking forward to his meeting with Lady Barresford. He jumped lightly from his curricle, tossed the reins to his tiger, Lanscombe, and walked up the wide front steps.

“I shall announce myself,” he said to the butler. He heard the man groan as he made his way to the Barresford drawing room on the second floor. He wasn't at all surprised that the butler knew exactly who he
was. He doubtless knew everything, like every servant in London.

“Good morning, ma'am,” he said in an obnoxiously cheerful voice as he walked into the drawing room.

Lady Barresford was on her feet in a surprisingly short amount of time, given her bulk. “My lord. What are you doing here?”

He saw the pen and stationery spread on the small writing table. He wondered how many letters she'd already written, bemoaning her betrayal by her immoral niece. His smile never slipped.

“I hope you'll forgive me visiting at such an early hour, ma'am. However, you already seem to be quite busy writing letters. Now I can provide you with good news to write.”

“You will leave, my lord. I have nothing at all to say to you.” She took a step toward him and waved her fat hands toward the door. “I imagine you're here to plead for Sabrina, but it will do you no good. I will never speak to her again. Leave, if you please.”

He eyed her with a joyful expression. “Surely, ma'am, you would like to visit for a little while with your future nephew-in-law?”

Lady Barresford slowly lowered her hand. She stared at him. “I don't believe you. You haven't offered for her, it's impossible. No gentleman would, at least not now, now that it's known what she is, and everyone has had the opportunity to chew it over for a week.”

“Not so impossible. I've offered for Sabrina several times, ma'am. I suppose I must thank you. If you hadn't treated her so badly I doubt she would have ever accepted my offer.”

“You wouldn't dare call my behavior into question, my lord.”

“What I would say, ma'am, is that my future wife
doesn't appear to be blessed with relatives who care for her, protect her, and, naturally, take her side. However, I'm more concerned now with society's behavior. I think that we can, together, turn off most of the gossip. Within a month there will be a new and more diverting scandal that will make everyone forget everything.”

Lady Barresford's mighty bosom was heaving. She was angry and she allowed her anger full rein. “That little creature is a disgrace to the Eversleighs and to the Barresfords. Lies she told me, all lies. Who could believe such absurd tales as she told?”

“Anyone who knows her even slightly would believe her. She doesn't lie. However, it's immaterial to me whether or not you believe her or me. What is important, however, is her acceptance by society, as my wife.”

Lady Barresford said with a good deal of satisfaction, “No one with any decency will ever recognize her again. As for you, my lord, were I you, I should seriously wonder how many men she's been with before you marry her.”

Phillip pictured her wrinkled throat between his hands. But telling her what he thought of her wasn't the best approach. He would save that for a special treat at a future date. But his voice was very hard as he said, “Listen to me, ma'am, I have had enough of your tiresome venom. You're speaking of your niece and my betrothed. You will now oblige me by sitting down and listening to what I have to say.”

Lady Barresford didn't want to sit. She wanted to rant, to tell him how Sabrina had deceived her, but the viscount looked determined. It occurred to her then that perhaps it would be better if Sabrina could be rehabilitated. Surely it would reflect on her if Sabrina was tossed out of London. She sat down.

“Here is what's going to happen, ma'am. Sabrina and I will be married here in a small ceremony on Saturday. I will return her to you tomorrow and you will treat her with the respect she deserves.”

“Let her back into my house? That's ridiculous. Why, look at all the little wretch has done to me! If my reputation weren't so excellent, her actions could have brought me low.”

Phillip wanted to strangle her, but he smiled instead. “In short, ma'am, we could have a scandal that perhaps could touch you, bring you low, just as you said. Would it not be preferable to scotch all gossip now? Can you think of a better solution than to have Sabrina safely wed to me? I assure you that my friends are at this moment putting a stop to most of the gossip-mongering. You won't have to fear for your position in society, ma'am, if you give in now.

“However, let me add, that if forced, I would make a formidable enemy, as would my friends.” He'd spoken so very quietly that it took her a moment to take in what he'd said.

She rose and took several stalking steps about the room. “You don't understand, young man. My friends are already well aware of my feelings. They sympathize with me. They have commingled their tears with mine. They would continue to sympathize. They would stick by me. They would continue to hold me in high esteem.”

Both of them knew, naturally, that a true friend was as scarce as a sunny day in January and that the likelihood was that her dear friends were probably sniggering behind their hands, just out of her hearing. “Why don't you do this: inform your friends that new facts have come to light and your niece is quite innocent. Indeed, she has been much maligned, and you, because you are her aunt and a fair and just woman,
wish to be the first to right all the wrongs done to her. This should start a fresh spate of tears among your friends, don't you think?”

“But a wedding on Saturday, it's impossible.”

“It can be done. Do you agree?”

He thought he heard her curse under her breath. He merely waited. He looked down at his fingernails. Finally, she said, “Very well, I will do it, but it won't be easy. If she isn't accepted, you will have no one to blame but yourself.”

“She will be accepted. I count on your striving your best to see that it happens. Now, would you like to have my secretary's services?”

She shook her head absently, and Phillip knew that she was already planning the necessary arrangements. He nodded. “I'll bring Sabrina to you tomorrow morning. Remember, if her two days with you aren't pleasant, you will answer to me. Ah, when circumstances dictate, ma'am, I can be a formidable enemy. Please don't forget that.”

As he turned to take his leave, Lady Barresford said, “I hope you won't regret your chivalry, my lord.”

He merely nodded. She stared at him a moment, then said, “What makes you so certain that the girl is telling the truth about Trevor?”

“I know Sabrina. I might also add that I've made the acquaintance of Trevor Eversleigh. I fear for the future of the Eversleigh name. He brings new meaning to the word
revolting.
Please don't forget that Sabrina is now in my care. I bid you good day, my lady.”

“No one would ever believe you were a bride if it weren't for that expensive gown the viscount provided for you.”

Sabrina turned away from the mirror. She looked worse than she had just the day before. “Phillip didn't buy the gown, Aunt, I did.”

“It's all one and the same for you now,” Lady Barresford said, fingering her own exquisitely fashioned silk gown. “The moment the vicar says you're his wife, you won't have a farthing. Since your dear grandfather is still too ill to be approached in the matter, I, of course, had my solicitors draw up a marriage contract. Your dowry is even larger than I had thought. As for you, all you have now is a husband, and one, I might add, who has many pleasant demands on his time.”

Sabrina was thinking about the shakily written letter a footman had delivered the previous evening from her grandfather. He had assured her that he would be well enough to greet her and her new husband in but a short time. He had not mentioned any of the less pleasant circumstances surrounding her sudden marriage. She wondered how much of it he knew. Her pleasure at his letter had carried her through until now. She turned at her aunt's words. “When you speak of the viscount's pleasant demands, you're referring to his mistress?”

Lady Barresford snorted, not an edifying sound. “If indeed he has only one mistress, which is doubtful.”

“It doesn't matter. I've given him his freedom to do whatever he pleases.”

“He doesn't need your permission, my girl, to do anything he pleases. Let me tell you that Phillip Mercerault hasn't led anything like a celibate life. It will be interesting to see if he parades his mistresses in front of your nose.”

Sabrina tugged at the itchy Brussels lace at her throat. “Phillip is very kind. He would never do such a thing.”

“Ha. He's a man and men do whatever it pleases them to do. If he chooses to ignore you, then he will. If he chooses to humiliate you, then he will. However, in all truth, the viscount has a good reputation. He is known as an honorable man. We will see. I will say that I'm shocked that you managed to fool him. I had not taken him for such a blockhead.”

Not for the first time in the last three days, Sabrina wished she could smack her aunt. Just one little smack, right in the middle of all those ridiculous crimped gray curls. “He isn't a blockhead,” she said, swallowing her anger. Soon she would be out of her aunt's house. Soon she wouldn't have to see her at all. Well, perhaps once every six months. That would be more than enough. She straightened, then turned. “I believe it's time to go downstairs, ma'am.”

“Yes, it's time. For God's sake, girl, pinch your cheeks. You look like I've abused you when it's been the other way around. The good Lord knows how much I've had to deal with, between you and your sister. But you, bringing scandal into my house and lying—” She broke off. Sabrina just might tell the viscount something less than truthful, and the truth was that she had treated Sabrina better than anyone could
possibly expect, given what the girl had done to her. Lady Barresford turned on her heel and walked toward the door, not looking back.

Sabrina closed her thumb and forefinger about her cheek and pinched herself. Her maid, Hickles, emerged suddenly from the corner of the bedchamber where she'd conveniently withdrawn into the shadows. Sabrina jumped. She was certain Hickles had been eavesdropping. “Will you need anything else, my lady?” Hickles asked, her voice trembling with excitement.

“Yes,” Sabrina said quietly, turning. “I never want to see your face again, Hickles. You truly are irritating.” She swept up the train of her gown and walked from the room, without a backward glance at her maid.

 

“Sabrina was a lovely bride. Perhaps a trifle pale, but hardly a wooden doll.” Margaret Drakemore turned away from Madeleine Bingly, her hands clenched at her sides.

Lady Bingly raised a painted eyebrow. “I do believe that you're taking loyalty a bit too far, Margaret. Do finish with that flounce, you stupid girl,” she said to the maid who was kneeling before her mending a torn ruffle in her gown.

Lady Dorchester said from her seat before a mirror, “Now, Madeleine, surely it's time for some Christian charity.” Particularly, she thought with a small grimace, since her spouse, Lord Dorchester, was a good friend of the groom's and Rohan Carrington's. She, for one, wouldn't gossip about the new viscountess, which was surely a pity—it would have meant many pleasurable hours.

Lady Bingly did a small pirouette. “There, no one could tell that Colonel Sandavar put his foot through the flounce, clumsy man.” She waved away the maid
and turned to Margaret. “I believe I hear a waltz striking up. Shouldn't we go back into the ballroom before our husbands think we have run away from them? Ah, to run away after being wicked and still manage to finish off your adventure being married to Phillip Mercerault, that is more than luck. That would require cunning and planning. It quite makes me gnash my teeth with envy that she managed it.”

Margaret, who wished suddenly that she and Lady Bingly were at the top of the stairs and she could shove her down, rose to her full height and said, “I have told you the facts of the entire matter, Madeleine. It is really quite mean-spirited of you to continue these silly lies.”

Lady Dorchester rose from her seat and gave a final pat to her dark hair. “Margaret is right, Madeleine. What's done is done. It's over.” As she swept from the dressing room, she said over her bare shoulder, unable to help herself, “At least the viscount will not have a shrinking bride on his hands tonight. How perfectly quaint that the wedding should follow the wedding night.”

Her laughter rang out. Lady Bingly moved to follow her from the ladies with drawing room. She called out, “Or was it a wedding week, my dear Lady Dorchester? With the viscount's winning manners, it must have been an exquisite experience for the, er, child.”

“Bitches,” Margaret said under her breath. She heard Madeleine call out, “I do wonder if the viscountess is breeding. An excellent reason for placing a gold band so quickly on her finger.”

Margaret heard the carrying words, as, she suspected, she was meant to. At least, she thought, her spirits rising a bit, most of the guests were behaving as they should, with no overt nastiness toward Sabrina. The small wedding, held in the drawing room of Lady
Barresford's town house, had gone off without a hitch, her brother, Charles, having acted in the stead of Sabrina's family. Rohan Carrington had been Phillip's best man. She wished that the wedding dinner and ball had been kept similarly small, but Phillip had insisted. “No, Sabrina will dance her wedding waltz with me before as many people as I can squeeze into the ballroom. This will be no fly-by-night wedding.”

Naturally everyone had come.

Perhaps, Margaret thought, Phillip had been right. But it didn't help that Sabrina looked so white and drawn. Margaret dismissed the maids and walked slowly back down the oak staircase to the ballroom.

Sabrina shrank back into the shadows until Margaret disappeared from her view down the winding stairs. She hadn't been meant to hear the cutting words, but she had. What had she expected? Indeed, what could she expect? She drew a long sigh. At least it was nearly over. She forgot the thick braid that was coming loose and made her way quickly back downstairs.

“Hold still, Sabrina, and I'll fix your hair.”

“Phillip,” she said, praying he hadn't overheard the women. He stood two steps below her, a slight smile playing about his mouth. She realized with a start that she'd been so closed into herself for the entire day and evening that she had scarce even been aware of him. She looked at him now, devastatingly handsome in his severe black evening clothes. “You look beautiful,” she said. “I hadn't really seen you today. I'm sorry. You've done so much for me and this is the first time I'm really seeing you. You have eyelashes thick as a girl's, only most girls I've seen don't have thick lashes either.”

The smile became a wide grin. “Well, eyelashes is
a good place to start. You really think I'm beautiful? I'm just a man, Sabrina. Beautiful?”

“Now you're showing your conceit. You want me to reassure you all the while you're jesting with me. Very well, yes, it's true. You are beautiful. Does that please your vanity?”

“Yes. I trust that my thick eyelashes are all that a girl would want. Come here, Sabrina, before your hair falls into your face.”

She obeyed, her steps slow and careful, for she feared tripping on the hem of her wedding gown. She felt his long fingers move deftly to draw the sagging braid back to where it belonged. She felt him slide in the pin to anchor it securely.

“There, now you're the perfect viscountess.”

She stared up at him. “Goodness, you're right. That's what I am now. But I don't feel like a viscountess. All of this—” she waved her hand around her—“it all seems like a dream, like I'm not really me, that it's someone else who's done all this.”

He hooked his thumb beneath her chin. “It's real, Sabrina. You're real, as am I. We're married now. It's done. What was the dream was all the nastiness before today. It's over and done with now.”

She thought of the malicious words of the women just moments before, but she forced a smile. “Yes, it's almost all over now. Thank you, Phillip, for all you've done for me.”

He hated her gratitude, and thus said without thinking, “It's your money that's paying for all of it. Thank yourself as much as me.”

“Money,” she said, anger deep in her voice now, “money is one thing, but what you, Phillip Mercerault, have done is quite another.”

That was true, he thought, pleased. He found himself wondering what she was thinking, for her eyes
were vague now, and she was looking away from him. She'd said so little during the day, just the vows required during the ceremony, nothing more. She looked too pale. but he would change that soon enough. “There's just one more waltz you must dance with me. Then, Sabrina, you may retire.”

Lady Dorchester's words flashed through her mind. She shuddered, unable to prevent it. “No, I really don't want to retire. I want to remain down here, with you, with our guests.” She saw that he was frowning at her and added in a strained voice, “No, I want to stay right here.”

He saw her furtive glance back up the stairs. It occurred to him then that she was thinking about sex. Sex with him, her husband. The thought of it scared her to her very toes.

He wanted to tell her again that she had nothing to fear from him, that he wasn't about to force himself on her, but not now. Now wasn't the time for such a discussion. He held out his hand as the strains of a waltz floated to his ears. “My dance, Sabrina.” He drew her hand through the crook of his arm.

“Keep your chin up. Try to smile. Don't forget, this is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.” He gave her a huge smile. “It's my happiest day.”

“You must be jesting with me,” she said, but she did manage a small smile.

“Perhaps I am,” he said, and led her into the waltz.

The colorfully attired group of ladies and gentlemen obligingly parted their ranks as Phillip whirled Sabrina around the dance floor.

She saw Lady Dorchester from the corner of her eye and missed a step. She felt Phillip's arm tighten about her waist.

He gave her another dazzling smile, even laughed
with those white teeth of his as he said, “Show the world how delirious you are to have me.”

“It is possible that I am delirious.”

“Not good enough. Think about my glorious eyelashes.”

That brought a giggle. “Excellent,” he said, dipped down his head, and lightly kissed her ear. “Just excellent.”