‘And what did Huntington say?’
Sarah flushed. ‘He said there would be. But, of course, there will not be.’
‘But, Sarah, I do not think you will have a choice! When this gets about…’
‘But why must it? Only Lord and Lady Henslowe know and you and Aunt and Grandfather, of course. But no one else need know and once I explain it to Grandfather…’
‘Oh, Sarah, I fear it is far too late! Cousin Penelope has already told Serena and, although she means well, she can never keep a secret!’
‘Oh, no,’ Sarah said faintly. It might as well be announced in front of the entire neighbourhood. Lady Henslowe’s only daughter was kind-hearted in her own way, but she was an incessant talker and could never keep a confidence. And, unfortunately, Lady Henslowe always told her daughter everything. Sarah had realised that there was no hope of keeping anything secret.
Even now, in the sanctuary of her bedchamber, she felt the same helplessness. And worse, she had no idea what Huntington had said to her grandfather. The thought had kept her awake much of the night. She only prayed he had not felt obligated to offer marriage again. In fact, she could think of no conceivable reason why he’d taken the blame for a situation which was none of his doing. Despite the rumours that he had driven his wife into the arms of another man, he had every reason to desire revenge upon her family.
But his behaviour last night had been that of a gentleman.
Her only hope was that her grandfather would see there was no need for an offer after he understood Huntington was innocent of all wrong. Her grandfather had a strong sense of justice. Surely holding Huntington responsible for any of last night’s disaster was anything but just?
Which was why she must speak to him as soon as possible. She had already learned from the maid that Lord Monteville had gone out for his customary morning walk. Surely he would be back by now. As soon as she dressed she would go to his study. Her stomach churned at the thought. He had never been anything but kind to her in the three years she had lived with him since her mother’s death, but she still found him intimidating. He did not tolerate fools or foolish behaviour. And her behaviour last night had been nothing but foolish.
She had just put her nearly untouched tray aside and climbed out of bed when the door opened. Amelia peered around the corner. She looked fresh and pretty in a dress of pink sprigged muslin. She came into the room and looked at Sarah, her face worried.
‘Sarah? Are you well?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘You look terribly pale.’
‘I am just rather tired.’
Amelia looked sympathetic. ‘I daresay you did not sleep well.’
‘Not particularly.’ Sarah managed a wan smile. ‘But I’ve had worse nights.’ Not many, however. ‘I thought I would see Grandfather.’
‘That is what I came to tell you. He wants to see you as soon as you are presentable. And, Sarah, Lady Beatrice is here.’ She knotted her hands together and looked as if she was about to deliver news of a death. ‘With Lord Huntington.’
Sarah stood outside her grandfather’s study and took a deep breath. It was all she could do to keep from turning tail and scrambling back to her room. But that would be of little use. She had to face him some time, unless she planned to disappear forever. She only prayed Lord Huntington and his formidable aunt, Lady Beatrice, were not with him.
She stepped inside and her stomach leaped to her throat. Heaven had not seen fit to answer in a favourable fashion. Her grandfather stood near his desk with Lady Beatrice seated in a wing chair in front of it. And Huntington stood near the mantelpiece. His cool, unfathomable gaze met hers before she tore her eyes away.
She looked at her grandfather and forced herself to speak. ‘You wished to see me, sir?’
‘Yes. However, you may come forward, my dear. I assure you none of us will bite.’ There was nothing in his face that indicated any sort of disgust of her.
‘No, sir.’ She moved across the room, taking care not to glance Huntington’s way, although every nerve in her body tingled with awareness of him.
She stopped tentatively in front of the cherrywood desk. Lady Beatrice rose. ‘Miss Chandler, I trust you are well.’ It was more of a statement than a question.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Sarah replied. She managed to meet Lady Beatrice’s sharp blue eyes. ‘And you, my lady?’
‘Well enough.’ She looked at Sarah closely. She was a large, imposing woman with a forthright manner and a reputation for outspokenness. ‘I will be much better as soon as this affair is settled. I wish, however, that you and my nephew had chosen a more suitable time to discover your mutual affection for one another.’
Sarah started. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Lord Monteville moved forward in a leisurely way. ‘I imagine it came as a shock to both of them to discover the feelings they had tried to keep suppressed were reciprocated. I believe they can be forgiven for their lapse in discretion.’ He looked at Lady Beatrice. ‘I am certain many of us have had a similar experience.’
Lady Beatrice actually looked taken aback. ‘I assure you I never have,’ she snapped.
‘No?’ Monteville turned his gaze to Sarah. ‘My dear, Lord Huntington is here to properly pay his addresses. I hope you will not let the unfortunate circumstances of the past influence your answer. I have given my consent to the match and I have hopes it may serve to heal the breach between the families.’
Sarah stared at him, wondering if she had taken leave of her senses. Whatever were they talking about? Mutual affection? Between her and Lord Huntington? She realised he was waiting for her to say something. ‘You…you have given your consent?’
‘Yes.’ There was the slightest warning in his cool eyes.
She stepped back. ‘Oh, dear.’
It was obviously not the correct answer. Lady Beatrice’s sharp, suspicious gaze swung to Sarah’s face. ‘You are not pleased?’
‘She is just shocked. As I was.’ Huntington had stepped to Sarah’s side. ‘We had never expected that Lord Monteville or you would consent to the match so readily.’ His hand came to rest on Sarah’s shoulder, his fingers exerting a slight pressure as if he warning her to say nothing. ‘I would like to speak to Miss Chandler alone.’
‘Very wise,’ Monteville said. ‘Come, Lady Beatrice, we will repair to the drawing room. Perhaps some refreshment would be in order.’ He moved towards the door and held it open. Lady Beatrice had no option but to follow. However, when she reached the doorway, she paused and looked back.
‘I trust there will be no repeat of last night. I should not want to find you have been engaging in such indecorous liberties again before you are properly wed.’ She stared at Sarah as if she suspected Sarah would throw herself at Huntington’s person as soon as the door was closed.
‘Miss Chandler will be quite safe,’ Huntington said drily. ‘I generally do not ravish ladies before dinner.’
Lady Beatrice frowned at him. ‘This is not the time for levity.’ She followed Monteville out, leaving the door open.
Huntington moved to the door and shut it firmly, then leaned against it as if he thought Sarah planned to escape. His handsome face had that unsmiling, remote expression she was so accustomed to; if it weren’t for the slightly dark shadows under his eye, as if he’d slept no better than herself, she would have thought he was completely unaffected.
Sarah finally spoke. ‘Would you please tell me what is going on, my lord?’ At least her voice was cool and steady, despite the feeling she had wandered into a strange dream where nothing made the