Historical Romance March 2017 Book 1-4. Louise Allen
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‘Marriage is a compromise, I imagine. Your experience of that is greater than mine.’
‘Yes,’ Sara agreed cautiously. She had expected a flat rejection of what she had said, not talk of compromise. ‘Yes, even when you believe you are in accord, there are still compromises to be made.’
‘If I promised equal decision-making in all aspects of our life together, promised to discuss everything fully with you and to take your opinions seriously, would you compromise by being at least as conventional a marchioness as your mother is and allowing me to leap to your defence whenever you are threatened or slighted? If we could agree on that, would that help you to decide? You are a woman of courage, Sara. Take a risk, follow your instincts.’
I love him, I desire him, I like him. Is that enough to risk the rest of my life on? Marrying Michael was so...safe. No doubts, no real compromises, an escape from a world that was alien and where I did not fit in. Now...I could cope with that world. Was I timorous before when I thought I was brave and bold? What are my instincts telling me? If I say yes, this is for the rest of our lives.
Lucian took half a step back as though to reassure her that he was not pressuring her. ‘Stop biting that beautiful lower lip of yours,’ he chided. ‘Or I will have to kiss it better.’
She came up on tiptoe and leaned in to press her lips to his. I love you. Is that enough? It felt right. Right but frightening. ‘Yes.’
‘Yes?’ Lucian caught her up, whirled her round and spun down the length of the room with her laughing, clutching at his shoulders.
This was such a different man from the one she had first met. He is happy, she realised. The thought of marrying me makes him happy. He set her on her feet at last, both of them laughing. Sara felt slightly weak at the knees, perhaps from the spinning, perhaps from the decision she had made.
‘I must go and find your father before those two old hens cannot resist cackling their secret. But first, I need to find Marguerite and knock some sense into the pair of them.’
Not literally, she sincerely hoped. He would never lift a finger to his sister, but Gregory was battered enough. ‘If you go and find Papa, I will locate Marguerite and give them both a trimming. I know I have no standing yet—but perhaps as your betrothed I might be allowed to help with this?’
‘With my abiding gratitude,’ Lucian said. ‘Tell Farnsworth he is within an inch of a horsewhipping now and if he steps out of line one more time I will not hold back.’
Sara ran upstairs. She had no great hope of finding Marguerite in her bedchamber and was not disappointed when the room was empty. Nor was there anyone in Gregory’s bedchamber. Cursing that she was going to have to search the entire house for them, and then probably find they had taken refuge in the summerhouse, Sara went to her own suite to repair the damage that Lucian’s kisses had doubtless created. When she pushed open the door to her sitting room the two young lovers were there, one each side of the cold hearth as though a respectable distance might make things better.
Sara closed the door and advanced on them. ‘Thank goodness I have found you. What did you think you were about? Gregory, you know perfectly well that this is our one chance to safeguard Marguerite’s reputation and have your early marriage accepted without gossip. Have you any idea how close you came to being discovered by two of society’s most avid tattlemongers?’
‘It was my fault,’ Marguerite admitted, waving aside Gregory’s protests. ‘I suggested we discuss tactics and we were, honestly, Sara. Just talking. Gregory had been working in the library earlier and we decided that if he pretended to go back after dinner I could discover him and be shocked and lecture Lucian about it in public and everyone would see that I was becoming emotionally involved with Gregory and then he would come in and I would fly to his side and he would take my hand and...’ She shrugged. ‘We would play it by ear, but I think by the time we had finished Lucian would have had to take us both away to discuss Gregory’s intentions and everything would be perfect.’
‘And I kissed her because it was such a good idea and to give her courage before she went back to the drawing room for the big scene. And it got out of hand,’ Gregory confessed, looking as hang-dog as a young man with a piratical scar and eyepatch could.
Was I ever this young? Sara wondered. And yet these two had conceived a child together and had survived weeks on the Continent and, if it had not been for the accident, might well have begun married life in a respectable, if humble, manner.
‘I do not think tonight would be a good night for the plan, but you might try it, say, the day after tomorrow. Another day of being seen to fret over Gregory’s well-being and “helping” him would make it more convincing,’ Sara suggested. ‘And let us pray it succeeds, because I, for one, cannot stand the strain on my nerves much longer.’ And the guests would think that Lucian’s happiness over his own betrothal had made him soft-hearted towards the young lovers if he gave his consent once her own betrothal was known.
‘Marguerite, I suggest you go back down to the drawing room. Gregory, a strategic retreat to your bedchamber is in order and I advise you to avoid being alone with Lord Cannock tomorrow—he was muttering about horsewhips when I last saw him.’
* * *
Lucian gave his appearance a hasty check in the hall mirror, ran a hand through his hair and straightened his neckcloth under the interested gaze of a passing footman before braving the drawing room again. His heart was thumping and he realised he had not felt this nervous since he was a raw youth. Sara had agreed to marry him. He should be delighted. He was delighted—she was everything he needed, had hoped for, in a wife. But there was a nagging doubt now where before there had simply been certainty. Did she need more than he could give her? Could he live up to the expectations of this complicated woman? Marriage was for life and it would change their lives for ever.
Lucian gave himself a brisk mental shake. He knew what he wanted and Sara was no green girl who did not know her own mind. He strode into the drawing room and found his quarry was standing, one foot on the fender, glass of port in his hand, arguing the rival merits of snipe, woodcock and grouse as game birds with a group of the male guests.
Lucian waited for a lull in the conversation. ‘Might I have a word, Eldonstone?’
Sara’s father turned, one grizzled eyebrow raised. ‘Of course. My study?’
‘If you don’t mind, sir.’
When they were alone Sara’s father waved Lucian to a chair. ‘Port? Brandy?’
‘Brandy, if you please.’ There was no cause to feel that knot in his gut. He was an excellent match for Sara and there was, surely, no reason to fear her father’s approval would be withheld. Not that he needed it with a widow who was of age, but it would distress her immeasurably if her family were hostile.
‘I have come to ask your blessing,’ he said as the older man handed him the glass. ‘I have asked Sara to marry me and she has very graciously consented.’
‘Have you, by God?’ Eldonstone sat down. His expression was impossible to read.
‘Yes. I am aware that this visit did not get off to a good beginning because we had chosen to anticipate this decision,’ he began. He was damned if he was going to be defensive about becoming Sara’s lover, but an acknowledgement of Eldonstone’s feelings was certainly in order.
‘You’ve changed your tune. Marriage was out of the question, I seem to recall.’
‘Certainly it was while we were unsure that our feelings would endure. Neither of us wants this marriage to be less than happy.’
‘You’ve a glib tongue, Cannock.’
‘I have an honest one, sir. I thought I would be looking at the cream of the crop of next year’s Marriage Mart, some well-bred little chit scarce out of the schoolroom. Observing some at close quarters and in proximity to Sara has shown me that what I would truly value in a wife is a woman of character and intelligence.’
‘And