Anne O'Brien - Regency High Society Vol 6 - The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow

‘Don’t step away.’

‘I didn’t… I wasn’t…’ She was watching him, he realised, as a mouse would watch the approach of a large and hungry cat, wondering if she was about to become a tasty meal or could make a bolt for safety. The humour of it struck home at last and his face relaxed into a smile. The strange ill temper drained away to leave a sensation of lightness and relief.

‘I have missed you. Sarah.’ He kept his voice steady, willing her to respond.

‘I have been busy.’

‘So I see. You no longer look like the housekeeper I left behind.’

Her face was instantly flushed with deepest rose. ‘I have only—that is, I bought some clothes.’

‘Again, as I see. Definitely not my severe housekeeper!’

‘I did not think that you would mind if I spent some money—’

‘As I do not. Did I not tell you to be extravagant?’ There was still no warmth here, no acceptance of their new relationship. He would try again. Perhaps he should not have left her alone at this critical time before their marriage.

‘The colour is most becoming. And your hair—very elegant.’ He lifted a hand to stroke one finger round an errant curl. Her light perfume touched his senses. ‘All in all, my dear Sarah, I believe you are quite the thing.’

Sarah merely shook her head, misery clouding her eyes.

‘What is it, Sarah? Whatever it is cannot be so bad that you flinch from telling me. I am not an ogre.’

‘I know. I would never suggest… ‘ Well, she would say it. ‘I cannot think why you would wish to marry me.’ Sarah found herself speaking her fears against every intention.

‘Why should I not?’

‘I am not beautiful or elegant or sophisticated—or any of the things you would look for in your wife.’

‘Why do you say that? I find you to be everything I wish for. At this moment you look perfectly lovely. Why should you deny yourself?’

‘How can I believe you?’ The memory of the gloves returned in bright focus. ‘I know that I cannot possibly measure up to the glamour of the Countess of Wexford.’

‘I do not wish to marry the Countess of Wexford.’ Here was dangerous ground.

‘No. But I still do not understand why you should wish to marry me .’ All Sarah’s self-doubts and insecurities rolled back to swamp her.

‘Then I will show you.’ He drew her closer, releasing her hands to run his hands the length of her arms, smooth and slow, to her shoulders. ‘Look up.’ What he saw in her face, trepidation, nerves, a little fear, persuaded him of the need to be considerate with her, but he would kiss her. So he did. The first intimate demand he had ever made on her. A kiss that began as a simple touch of mouth against mouth. Until his response to her astounded him. Taken aback by the utter sweetness of her, hunger lunged as a wild beast and gripped him. And heat struck him as a fist to the gut when her mouth opened under the demand of his. Her light perfume filled his head and his loins, seductively sweet. Instinctively he tightened his hold and deepened the kiss, changing the angle of his head to take her lips as he wished. His body would not allow him to refuse the gift she offered so innocently as she moved closer within his arms and let him mould her soft curves to his firmly muscled frame.

Joshua lifted his head and took a breath. Well. He had not expected so basic a response to her. Sarah might claim to have no skills to attract, but her effect on him was undoubtable. Eyes wide, her lips parted, she looked up at him, as much shocked as he. He had, of course, to kiss her again. Thoroughly, needily, absorbing the warmth and softness of her body against his.

Sarah could not recognise, could not accept, the sheer glory of it. Every nerve in her body jumped in immediate answer to his demand, the thrill of his mouth on hers. Every inch of her skin so sensitive from that one kiss, so that when he claimed her mouth again she had no qualms about surrender. Her lips parted to accept the imperious invasion of his tongue, her arms crept around his neck, her fingers locking against and through his soft, dense hair. Had she not desired exactly this? When he pressed her closer yet so that she might be aware of his need, she did not resist but exulted in it. She could feel the hunger in him and allowed it to dissipate her own insecurity.

Did he truly want her in that way?

Joshua released her, held her a distance away from him, knowing his own vulnerability. His dining room was no place to satisfy so raw a hunger with his housekeeper, no matter how great the temptation. He took a step back, but not before he smoothed his thumb along her lips—so tempting to take them again—in a tender caress.

‘As I said, I had missed you, dear Sarah.’ He bit down on the urgency that swam in his blood. ‘I just did not realise how much.’

The marriage of Lord Joshua Faringdon and Mrs Sarah Russell, celebrated by special licence in St George’s Church, Hanover Square, followed by a breakfast at the home of the happy couple, was an occasion for a positive fusillade of good wishes and advice and warnings from all sides. It was, the groom decided, since most of the barbed comments were fired in his direction, a most exhausting occasion. The bride was composed and charmingly pretty in pale silk. The groom austerely dramatic in a deep blue superfine coat, highly polished Hessians, his cravat superbly tied by the hand of a master. The bride was suitably fragile and slender, the groom stood straight and tall at her side. He would not limp to his own marriage.

‘Be happy,’ Theodora whispered to her sister with a congratulatory kiss. ‘The Faringdon men are magnificent.’

‘I know it,’ Sarah replied with a quick hug, unable to believe that this splendid man, head bent in serious and probably unwelcome conversation with Lady Beatrice, was now her husband.

* * *

Since Nicholas had already expressed his concerns to Joshua, he said no more than, ‘I wish you well. We have a habit of marrying Baxendale women, do we not? You have a lovely bride, Sher.’

‘So I have.’ Joshua turned to watch her, the obvious pride in his face causing Nicholas to smile.

Theodora found much more to say to Lord Joshua. She pinned him with her direct regard, but was not unfriendly. Joshua seized the opportunity.

‘Theodora. Rumours, may I say, were not false.’

‘Rumours?’ She eyed him suspiciously.

‘That Nick has found himself a prize. A jewel of great price.’

‘Are you trying to charm me?’

‘Of course.’

‘Ha!’ But, allowing herself to be charmed by this extremely handsome man—only second to her own darling Nicholas—she touched a hand to his wrist as her lips curved and her eyes twinkled. ‘Be kind to Sarah.’

‘Well—it was my intention to beat her soundly every night until she obeyed my every whim!’

‘That is not what I meant, as you very well know!’ She had the grace to laugh and ask forgiveness. ‘Can I tell you? Perhaps I should not, but Sarah… Well, she carries a—’

Joshua put out a hand to stop her. ‘You are a good friend, Thea, but there is no need. Judith has told me of Sarah’s life and the… the difficulties she encountered.’ Thea could not but admire his sensitive discretion. ‘I know the truth of it. I hope that I can win my lady’s trust.’

Thea decided to take a risk. ‘And her love?’

He thought for a moment, eyeing his cousin’s beautiful wife. And with a steady gaze, chose not to dissemble. ‘It would be my wish.’ If his answer surprised him, he hid it well.

The reply was certainly one that robbed Thea of any light-hearted repartee. Before she could think of a suitable answer, Nicholas stepped up to take her arm. ‘Thea. Don’t harass the poor man. Come and talk to Aunt Beatrice, who is most concerned about your state of health! As ever. Try to be tactful.’