The Virtuous Courtesan. Mary Brendan
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up at him, a spark of hope livening her weary eyes. Had he come to tell her that he had discovered a legal solution to their woes? He was looking at her intently as though something of significance was on his mind. His language was rather flamboyant but then he might be anxious that before business was concluded she would fly off in a huff as she had yesterday.
‘I…please do sit down, sir. Naturally I am interested in any suggestions that might improve my lot. I shall get Maude to fetch some tea.’ Sarah’s tone held muted excitement and she speedily set about summoning Maude to bring refreshments.
Joseph sat down, satisfaction settling on his features. Miss Marchant seemed to have grasped his meaning and was not too coy to show pleasure at it. He lounged back into the sofa and drove specks from his cuff with finger flicks. Her enthusiasm was to be expected. He was, after all, a pillar of Willowdene society. Miss Marchant was no doubt thanking her lucky stars that a charming and prosperous saviour had prevented her enduring the attentions of less worthy individuals.
Sarah returned to sit opposite her guest who had taken the space on the sofa she had vacated. She was eager to learn in what way he might ease her situation. But he remained stubbornly silent and was impertinently eyeing her jewellery.
‘I expect you have been looking through your keepsakes.’ Joseph continued peering judiciously into the casket. He had decided to kindly condescend to have tea and a little chat for her modesty’s sake. He sighed, touched a finger to a silver bangle. ‘Memories of the departed are a comfort at such times.’
‘I have had my memories tarnished,’ Sarah answered, truthfully.
‘Quite.’ Joseph sagely nodded. ‘The prospect of being left in the care of a…shall we say…licentious fellow is not something a young lady of refinement ought ever to face.’
Clasping her hands in her lap Sarah leaned forward in her chair. ‘I think you are about to suggest an alternative,’ she prompted. ‘Please let me know what it is, sir. I am impatient to hear anything of benefit.’
Joseph goggled at her. He had been hoping for a positive response to his proposition but a little reticence—even if faked—would also have been welcome. He did not want his prize devalued by the knowledge that Miss Marchant bestowed her favours too easily. He looked at her lovely face, aglow with expectation, rosy lips parted in readiness to smile. He swallowed and eased his position, deciding her eagerness was quite charming for it was having the required effect. ‘You have been treated badly, my dear,’ he said hoarsely, ‘but I can offer you not inconsiderable consolation. I only await your permission to describe the advantages to you.’ He made to pluck one of Sarah’s slender hands from her lap.
Sarah quickly withdrew her fingers, but sent him a tight smile. She needed no physical demonstration of his benevolence. His words would do very well. When he made another clumsy lunge for her midriff, she sprang to her feet and put distance between them. ‘What advantages, sir?’ she prompted rather impatiently.
Joseph was also on his feet, but he gave up his pursuit of Sarah. His attention had been drawn to a woman of more advanced years. Maude had reappeared, not bearing the tea tray, but news of another caller.
‘Mr Gavin Stone is here, miss.’
That gentleman was strolling into the room before either of its occupants had fully digested news of his arrival.
‘Mr Stone…’ Sarah’s flustered greeting drew a penetrating look from Gavin’s deep blue eyes. His attention then flicked to her companion.
Joseph executed a very stiff bow and, with his sallow complexion mottling, stalked to the sofa to collect his hat whilst muttering about the need to take his leave.
‘Don’t go on my account,’ Gavin said placidly. His tone seemed at odds with the long hard stare concentrated on the lawyer. It had the effect of hurrying Joseph towards the door.
The sight of Gavin Stone, attired in riding clothes with his black boots gleaming through a layer of dust, had unsettled Sarah for a moment. He had the look of a prosperous Romany come a-calling with his rugged tanned features and careless dark locks. Now, as the lawyer reached the door, Sarah quickly jerked herself to her senses. A suspicion niggled at her that this might be no chance meeting between the three of them, but something the gentlemen had deliberately concocted to browbeat her. Her conspiracy theory was soon quashed: Joseph Pratt looked distinctly put out by Gavin’s arrival. She was, too, for had the lawyer not been about to expound on a way of improving her lot?
‘You have not yet fully explained the reason for your visit, sir,’ Sarah reminded him, skipping to the door to intercept his departure. ‘We were talking of—’
‘It is of no consequence now, Miss Marchant,’ Joseph interrupted brusquely. His floridity increased until he was red to the roots of his receding hair. With a jerky bow he was soon gone from the room.
‘How odd,’ Sarah murmured to herself, unaware that her genuine puzzlement had caused Maude’s gimlet eyes to slide to meet those of her remaining guest.
Maude had not liked the lawyer, but she’d welcomed this fellow turning up unexpectedly. She knew as soon as he gave his name that he had every right to be here. Gavin Stone was, of course, the wild brother who’d inherited the big estate and that included Elm Lodge. That aside, she’d also given him a once over and decided he was handsome enough to be as bad as he liked. Sometimes scoundrels changed when they found what they were looking for. And Maude reckoned, from the way that Gavin Stone was staring at Sarah, he’d met his match. Satisfaction writhed across her pursed lips. ‘Shall I bring in the tea, miss?’ Maude asked.
Sarah glanced at Gavin. They had parted yesterday on frosty terms. She did not want to offer him her hospitality, yet to deny him a cup of tea seemed mean. A glint of humour in his eyes betrayed that he was aware of her quandary.
‘Yes…thank you, Maude.’ The firm order for refreshment sent Maude immediately from the room.
To break the tense quiet Sarah blurted, ‘Mr Pratt is quite an odd character, I think.’
‘Do you? Why?’ Gavin asked mildly.
‘I’m still not sure what was his purpose in coming here today. I thought at one time he was about to tell me he had found a legal loophole through which we might both wriggle to freedom. But if that were so, he would have stayed to tell us. He went off in a peculiar mood, I thought.’
Gavin strolled closer to inspect the look of bewilderment on her face. He could detect no coyness, no sham modesty. She seemed genuinely unaware that the lawyer had designs on her virtue. Once again he was struck by her apparent innocence…her undeniable beauty. He could understand why Joseph Pratt had felt compelled to try his luck. Gavin imagined the lawyer would not be the only gentleman sniffing around Miss Marchant, spouting sympathy and suggestions.
‘I think Mr Pratt was about to tell you he expected your personal attention in exchange for any assistance he offered.’
Sarah frowned and then her brow smoothed, her eyes widened in shock. Quickly she brought her soft lips together and turned away from him to shield her confusion. He would think that! The lecherous beast!
‘I do not think you should judge every gentleman by your own lax morals, sir,’ she retorted crisply. She twirled around to face him with her chin at a haughty angle. ‘I found nothing…offensive…in Mr Pratt’s behaviour.’ The moment it was out, Sarah knew that declaration was not quite true. The lawyer had indeed tried to grab inappropriately at her person. The more she pondered on the encounter, the more she realised there had been ambiguity in his conversation too. Had she been a gullible fool not to realise he had an ulterior motive? Fast on the heels of that crushing thought came a yet worse one. Would others follow? Now Edward had gone, would she be seen as fair game?
Sarah knew she was pretty. From quite a young age her mother had told her she had been blessed with exceptional looks. Her dear mama had had great hopes that her beauty would lure a wealthy suitor and solve all their financial woes. But it wasn’t to be.
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