The Blanchland Secret. Nicola Cornick
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the excitement of the minuet might be too much for me!’
Sarah looked reproving. ‘I know you find our entertainments dull, my lord, but there are country dances after eight, if that is your preference!’
‘What, no waltzes?’
‘Oh, the waltz is much too fast for Bath!’
‘A pity! Perhaps I shall have to settle for a country dance after all, if you will so honour me. In the meantime, do you care for a little supper?’
‘Thank you.’ Sarah let him take her arm and steer her away from the others and into the refreshment room. He helped her to a seat in a secluded alcove, then crossed to the buffet table, where several young ladies immediately gravitated towards him and one of them artfully drew him into conversation over the merits of the strawberries.
Behind a pillar to Sarah’s right, the young ladies’ mamas were watching with gimlet eyes. Sarah tried not to listen, but at least half of her wanted to eavesdrop on their conversation. She was no cynic, but she knew that despite the pungent denunciation they would inevitably make of Guy’s character, either would marry him off to their daughter with triumphant haste.
‘A shocking reputation, Mrs Bunton, quite shocking!’
‘Really, Mrs Clarke? Just how shocking would you say it is?’
‘Oh, quite dreadful! Of course, that was before he went to the War—perhaps the rigors of campaign have instilled some respectability…but I doubt it!’
‘Once a rake—’ Mrs Bunton said meaningfully.
‘Though marriage to a good woman may redeem him, of course!’
Both ladies paused, evidently dwelling on the benefits of a match with their particular daughter.
‘They say that Lady Melville was his mistress for a whole year—’
‘Oh, yes, I had heard that, too! A most impassioned liaison, by all accounts!’
‘And then there was the business of Lady Paget—’
‘Dreadful! They say her husband never recovered! But the family is rich, of course,’ Mrs Clarke said, as if in mitigation, ‘and rumour has it that Woodallan wishes him to settle down.’
‘Emma could do worse…’
‘Much worse…Or your own dear Agatha, though they say Lord Renshaw prefers blondes…’
It was perhaps fortunate that Guy chose that moment to extract himself from the bevy of debutantes and return to Sarah, whose ears were becoming quite pink from what she had been obliged to hear. His observant dark gaze did not miss her high colour; as he put the loaded plate before her, he gave her a wicked grin.
‘Dear me, Miss Sheridan, whatever can have caused you such discomfort? You look positively overset!’
‘I am very well,’ Sarah snapped, trying to keep her voice discreetly low, ‘just embarrassed at having been obliged to overhear a rehearsal of your amours, sir! It is well that you will be leaving Bath soon, you have caused such a flutter in the dovecotes!’
‘Good gracious, I had no idea you could be so frank, Miss Sheridan!’ Guy said admiringly, eyeing her outraged face with amusement. ‘To bring yourself to mention such matters! I was fair and far out in thinking you a prim Bath miss!’
‘I am prim! That is why I am so agitated!’ Sarah took a steadying draught of champagne. ‘I do not think it wise for you to distinguish me with your attentions, my lord!’
‘Why not?’ Guy looked genuinely hurt. ‘Because you are so respectable and I am not? But you see, Miss Sheridan—’ he lowered his voice ‘—I am very grateful for the condescension you are showing me! Your respectability cannot but help improve my shocking reputation, you see! If the good ladies of Bath see that you are prepared to bear me company, perhaps they will not think me so bad after all!’
‘Nonsense! You speak a deal of nonsense, sir!’
Their eyes met and Guy smiled, the lightness of his tone belied by the intensity of his gaze.
‘Very well, if you don’t like my nonsense, perhaps the truth will serve instead! I have the oddest feeling, Miss Sheridan…’ his fingers brushed the back of Sarah’s wrist lightly but with a touch that seemed to burn her ‘…that we are kindred spirits, despite our differences…or perhaps because of them…’
Very deliberately Sarah freed herself and took a mouthful of food, glad that the hand that held the fork was so steady. Her heart was racing at his touch, so light, but so confusing. He was still watching her with that disconcerting mix of speculation and challenge.
‘Tell me, Miss Sheridan, have you never wished for any excitement?’
Damn the man, would he never change the subject? Sarah felt acutely vulnerable. Just how far was he going to press this particular topic?
‘My life is quite exciting enough, I thank you, my lord.’ Her voice was quite calm. ‘I have my books and my letters and my friends. There are concerts here at the Pump Room and if the weather is fine I may promenade in the park!’
‘It sounds a positive orgy of entertainment,’ Guy murmured, his eyes mocking her above the rim of his glass. ‘Have you never been to London?’
‘No, I have not.’
‘You had no come-out, like other debutantes? No…’ he looked at her thoughtfully ‘…I suppose your father died before you were old enough, and then your brother was too wrapped up in his travelling…’
‘I liked living in the country,’ Sarah said truthfully, ‘and Bath is very pleasant.’
‘That’s certainly true. All joking aside, it seems a delightful place. But have you no wish to recapture your youth?’
‘I was not aware that I had yet lost my youth, sir,’ Sarah said tartly. ‘I am scarce in my dotage!’
‘How refreshing to meet a young lady who does not think she is at her last prayers! So you consider that you still have plenty of time to throw your bonnet over the windmill!’
‘What an extraordinary idea!’ Sarah could not help smiling in return. ‘I assure you I have no intention of doing so, my lord!’
‘Ah, well, who can say?’ Guy raised his dark eyebrows. ‘Look at you this evening, Miss Sheridan, giving countenance to a rake!’
‘I scarcely think that I am giving you countenance, my lord!’
‘Maybe not, but I notice that you do not dispute the other half of my statement!’ There was a teasing note in Guy’s voice.
‘As to that, I cannot say.’ Sarah spoke with equanimity. ‘Nor,’ she added quickly, seeing the spark of devilment in his eyes, ‘do I have any ambition to find out!’
‘What a sensible lady you are, Miss Sheridan,’ Guy murmured. ‘So measured, so composed! Lady Amelia must find you a positive paragon of a companion!’
Remembering the concern she was currently causing her cousin, who had wasted another twenty minutes earlier that afternoon trying to persuade her against her trip to Blanchland, Sarah could not agree with him. She was almost glad to see the ponderous figure of Mr Tilbury approaching to request a dance. Guy did not demur when she excused herself and Sarah was annoyed that this should be so, then was even more irritated with herself for so out-of-character contrariness. She watched Guy performing a succession of country dances with Bath’s most eligible debutantes and told herself that she did not care in the least.
Guy presented himself a little late for his promised dance with her for he appeared to have had difficulty in tearing himself away from his previous partner, the extremely young and pretty Miss Bunton. Sarah discovered that this engendered in her a feeling of acute vexation akin to indigestion, the like of which she had never experienced before. She had to fight a hard battle with