Anne Herries - Regency Christmas Vows

‘Clarification, sir?’ Her words came out as a whisper.

‘Indeed. I wish you to know,’ Guy continued, ‘that when I apologised for my behaviour that night it was in relation to our argument and the unfounded accusations I made against you.’ He looked directly into her eyes. ‘I do not intend to apologise for…what came after.’

He was very close now. Sarah’s gaze moved involuntarily to the hard line of his jaw, his mouth…She felt herself turn hot all over and wrenched her gaze away, fixing it sternly on a potted palm in a corner of the room.

‘And yet I believe, my lord, that you were acting under a misapprehension…’

‘In a sense…I’ll allow I thought myself deceived and believed you…experienced. Yet my behaviour was very much in accordance with what I had wanted ever since I first saw you, Miss Sheridan…’

Sarah felt smothered by the heated atmosphere and her own emotions. Her heart was beating light and fast in her throat and she knew she had to put some distance between them, but she could not seem to break away from him. She could not be so weak as to fall under his spell again so soon, not when he had traduced her character and shown his lack of faith in her, then compounded his sins by a high-handed proposal that she could only refuse…

Guy let go of her hand, but only to draw her closer still, until their bodies were almost touching.

‘Deny that you felt the same way, too, Miss Sheridan. Deny it if you dare!’

‘I do deny it!’ Sarah wrenched herself free of him and backed away. She was utterly confused by the emotions he could stir up in her. ‘Tomorrow I shall leave here for Blanchland and you need not concern yourself with my affairs any further, my lord. It will no longer be any of your business!’

Guy’s expression was inscrutable. He made no move to touch her again, but his voice held her still when she would have run away. ‘You have made your feelings plain, Miss Sheridan. I must disappoint you, however. I have made this my business and I do not intend to disengage now. You may have as much time as you wish to get used to the idea, but the fact remains—you will marry me!’

Dinner was a surprisingly good-humoured meal, considering that Sarah was avoiding Guy and Amelia and Greville were evidently not speaking to each other. The Earl and Countess took charge effortlessly, the former charming Amelia and the latter regaling Sarah with tales of her married daughters and their families. Guy and Greville fell to discussing horses, the food was excellent, and the meal passed without incident. It was only later, when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, that the Earl took a seat beside Sarah and broached the delicate subject. They had chatted for a while about Sarah’s life in Bath, reminisced about earlier times and talked about developments in the Woodallan estate, before Sarah had unwisely remarked that the Earl must be glad to have his son and heir restored to him. Lord Woodallan smiled.

‘I must admit there were times when I thought I’d never see Guy again! I suppose he had to get rid of his restlessness before he was prepared to settle down. In my youth it was the Grand Tour and these days it is the War, but either way…’ He twinkled at her. ‘And now I find that he is all set for parson’s mousetrap, but the lady of his choice is not willing!’

Sarah blushed. ‘Sir—’

The Earl patted her clasped hands. ‘I know I am an interfering old man, but I only wished to say that nothing would make me happier than to see Jack Sheridan’s daughter take her place in due course as mistress of Woodallan.’

Sarah looked away. ‘Thank you, sir. I am sorry…there are difficulties…’

‘I guessed as much,’ the Earl said drily, ‘but perhaps they will resolve themselves more easily than you might think, Sarah! Just do not keep my scapegrace son waiting too long, I beg you. He may seem a rogue, but he has many sound qualities—I should know, for he inherits them all from me!’

The Earl of Woodallan’s study faced southwest, looking across the bowling-green and the formal parterre to the deer park and the Mendip Hills beyond. On this particular evening, the heavy brocade curtains were closed against the night and two lamps burned on the tables each side of the fire. Guy, who had just finished a game of billiards with Greville, found his father sitting in one of the armchairs, perusing a well-worn leather bound book. He invited his son to pour them both a drink.

‘Brandy for you, sir?’ Guy asked, crossing to the decanter and pouring a generous measure into the two cut glasses that stood there. He took one across to his father, noting the effort it seemed to cost the Earl simply to stretch out a hand for the glass. The Earl managed to conceal his weakness most of the time, but his son could see the changes that illness had wrought in him.

The Earl fixed Guy with his piercing dark gaze and said gruffly, ‘I meant it when I said I was glad to see you back in one piece, boy. I must admit there were times in the last four years when I wished you’d had a brother!’

Guy laughed. He sat down opposite his father, stretching his legs out towards the grate. A fire burned there and its warmth was comforting.

‘I am here now, sir, and don’t intend to go travelling again!’

The fierce black gaze looked him over. ‘You look well enough on it, I suppose,’ the Earl said. ‘A bad business, though. Must have had its nasty moments.’

‘Yes, sir, although there were none when I thought I would not see my home again!’

‘You were lucky,’ the Earl said unemotionally. ‘The quacks tell me I shouldn’t touch this stuff,’ he added, tilting the brandy glass to his lips with evident enjoyment, ‘but it makes no odds now.’

‘I expect it helps sometimes.’

The Earl gave him a sharp look. ‘No fool, are you, boy? You know I’m dying. No…’ he made a gesture as Guy shifted uncomfortably ‘…denials are for the women and the medical men. I know the truth. It’s one of the reasons I wanted you back here.’

‘Of course. You know that I will do anything in my power—’

The Earl put his glass down with a hand that was not quite steady. ‘There is something I have to ask of you, Guy, a particular commission before you can come home for good and settle down. Set up your nursery, perhaps.’ There was a glint of a smile. ‘It pains me to send you away no sooner than you arrive, but I have no choice.’

Guy made a slight gesture, at a loss. ‘Name your commission, sir. I will undertake it.’

‘In a moment.’ The Earl turned aside, picking a letter from the table at his elbow. ‘Tell me, what is the nature of the quarrel between you and Miss Sarah Sheridan?’

Guy met his father’s quizzical gaze. ‘Forgive me, sir, but I do not wish to discuss it. It is…a personal matter.’

‘I see,’ the Earl said slowly. ‘Can it be anything to do with her intention to return to her home at Blanchland? I take it that that is her destination tomorrow?’

Guy jumped. Some brandy spilled. From early childhood his father had had an uncanny knack of reading his mind and the young Guy had sometimes wondered whether the Earl had supernatural powers. Their eyes met. Guy had always found it impossible to lie to his father.

‘Devil take it, sir, how can you possibly know that? I cannot believe that Miss Sheridan would have mentioned it—’

‘She did not,’ the Earl confirmed with a smile. ‘In point of fact, she refused to tell me the difficulties that afflict your relationship. I take it that I am correct in thinking that you wish to marry the lady?’