‘Yes, I do and I’m grateful. You have said nothing to upset me, sir—nothing at all.’
It was her fault for allowing her imagination to provide her with pictures of the kind of marriage she would most enjoy—because his was unaccountably the face she saw every time she considered the idea.
* * *
Dressing that evening, Rupert frowned at himself in the mirror. Why had he made the offer to find a suitable husband for Sarah? Had his pride been hurt because she seemed to favour the dancing master? It was really none of his business whom she chose to marry for she could never mean anything to him—or could she?
Rupert pondered the thought. He had considered himself uninterested in marriage, knowing that he must marry one day for the purpose of getting an heir, but he’d deliberately shut the idea from his mind. The right woman would present herself to his notice one day in the future and then... But perhaps he need look no further. Sarah had aroused feelings of hot lust in him and something more. If he wanted a wife to be a companion in his advancing years and to give him a family, why not her as well as any other?
He frowned at himself in the mirror. No, it was impossible. Sarah deserved more than he could give her. She ought to have love and the kind of happiness that comes from such a marriage—and yet she was considering a marriage of convenience.
He’d promised to help her find a husband and he must keep his word, bring some of his friends down so that she could meet them and perhaps find a man she wished to marry. A part of him persisted in thinking that it might suit him to marry her, but there was still a barrier in his mind—still a part of him that was wary of taking the irrevocable step of asking any woman to be his wife.
* * *
A handful of their neighbours had stayed to dine that evening. Lady Rowton was one, Squire Browning, his wife and Mr Honiton and his sister, also the Reverend Hoskins. Sarah found herself placed between the vicar and the squire, who was a little hard of hearing and tended to boom at her.
Sarah had answered all the questions directed at her, but was conscious of watching Rupert for much of the evening. He had been the perfect host, keeping everyone amused and making sure that it all went smoothly. She had noticed that he paid attention to all the ladies, but particularly to Lady Rowton. The lady was more than thirty, but still youthful in her looks and attractive, her smile warm whenever she had replied to something Rupert said to her.
‘Did you notice Rupert flirting with Lady Rowton?’ Francesca whispered as they went into the drawing room later. ‘I think they had an affair a year or two ago. It was just after her husband died—and I heard Grandfather telling someone that Lord Myers was consoling her.’
‘You mustn’t repeat overheard gossip, dearest,’ Sarah said.
‘Very well.’ Francesca’s eyes sparkled. ‘Then I shan’t tell you what Monsieur Dupree said about you.’
‘Please do not, and do not tease,’ Sarah said, but she was laughing. She had noticed the dancing master looking at her several times during the evening, even though he’d been seated next to Miss Honiton.
Monsieur Dupree had no notion of her being an heiress. He imagined her a friend of the family, not quite a governess, but not the heiress to a fortune. That must mean he liked her for herself alone. The idea was novel and pleasing. It made Sarah smile to think that a young and handsome man found her attractive for her own sake and, when she discovered him staring at her, she smiled.
Glancing then at Lord Myers, she saw him scowling and wondered what had caused him to look so annoyed. Surely not because she’d smiled at the dancing master? Sarah might be flattered by the young man’s admiration, but her heart was completely untouched. He was not at all the kind of husband she would ever consider—though she did quite enjoy being flirted with across the table.
* * *
When the ladies were assembled and tea was served, Francesca was asked if she would play for the company.
‘Only if Sarah plays a duet with me,’ she said, blushing prettily.
‘Yes, of course,’ Sarah agreed and took a seat beside her on the stool.
‘Allow me to turn your music, mesdemoiselles,’ Monsieur Dupree said, coming up to them with alacrity. ‘I will sing later if Mademoiselle Sarah will play for me.’
Sarah could not do less than agree. She and Francesca played a lively melody, then the girl got up and left the entertainment to Sarah. After some discussion, it was decided that Monsieur Dupree would sing ‘Greensleeves’ in English and in French.
He proved to have a delightful voice and they were asked for three encores. He sang two further songs in French and then a love song in English.
At the end of this melody Sarah rose from the
pianoforte and walked away, leaving Monsieur Dupree to take over. His playing was as proficient as his singing and she was about to say goodnight to Francesca when Rupert came up to her.
‘His song was for you,’ he said. ‘I think you have made another conquest, Sarah.’
‘Another? I assure you none of my other admirers have wanted me for myself.’
‘Can you be sure of that? Might you have misjudged some of them?’
Sarah wrinkled her brow. ‘Perhaps. I thought it was all Father’s money, but some of them...’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘I had no interest in any of them, even if—’
‘I’ve told you before, you should not sell yourself short.’
‘I have no intention of doing so. I like Monsieur Dupree, but I have no intention of listening to an offer from him—of any kind.’
‘That’s very much better. I like to see my Sarah standing proud.’
His Sarah! A tingle went down her spine and her stomach clenched. What could he mean—his Sarah? For a moment a feeling of joy spread through her. If he cared for her... But, no, his attention had wandered. He was watching Francesca, who had gone to join the dancing master at the pianoforte. The two of them were now playing together and seemed to be amusing themselves with the lively piece.
Sarah squashed the nonsensical hope. Lord Myers was a gentleman and it had merely been a figure of speech. When he looked at her again it was merely to raise a quizzical eyebrow.
He was still treating her as Francesca’s equal, a young woman of some consequence. Sarah almost regretted telling him the truth. He had shown more interest in her when he’d believed her an adventuress.
* * *
Alone in her room, Sarah undressed and sat before the mirror, wearing a soft robe. She hadn’t been able to part from all her clothes when she left her trunks behind and had brought her own under- and night-things, because no one was going to see her when she was alone in her room.
Sitting before the mirror, she brushed her hair so that it fell on her shoulders, shining and straight with just a little curl at the ends. She wasn’t truly tired and was regretting that she hadn’t thought to bring a book up with her. It would be easy enough to walk down to the library, but she could not bother to dress again and did not think it appropriate to wander at night in her night robes.
She was just about to retire when she heard the tap at the door, stopped and walked to it, her hand on the catch as she said, ‘Yes, who is it?’
‘Rupert. May I speak to you for a moment, please?’
Sarah’s heart pounded as she opened the door. What could he mean by coming to her room? She felt her pulses race as she saw him standing there, still dressed for the evening. Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming longing for him to take her in his arms and kiss her. It would undoubtedly lead to him seducing her, but at that moment she almost felt it worthwhile.
‘You