Regency Christmas Vows. Anne Herries
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‘Yes, I fear we will be in for much the same company as ever tonight, especially with it being the end of the season! As I was saying, it is fortunate that Greville has brought that charming man, Guy Renshaw, with him! I declare, Bath society seldom offers the opportunity to meet so prodigiously attractive a gentleman!’
Sarah knew that she was blushing and prayed that it could be put down to the heat of the room after the cold outside. She would never have admitted to Amelia that she had spent twice as long as usual at her toilette and agonised between the rose pink and the aquamarine silk. Sarah had been aware of a growing sense of anticipation all afternoon, and found that she was feeling quite nervous as she and Amelia entered the ballroom. She experienced an altogether unfamiliar sensation of breathlessness, her heart suddenly racing and butterflies fluttering frantically in her stomach. Her slender fingers tightened on her fan. This was ridiculous! Good gracious, she was very nearly in a fit of panic, and all because of Guy Renshaw, who had once put a toad on her dining-chair!
She could see Guy across the ballroom, deep in conversation with Greville and attracting considerable attention from the female guests. The reason was not hard to seek: the classical good looks of the Woodallan family, combined with the immaculate black and white of the evening dress, made him look extremely handsome and ever-so-slightly dangerous.
‘Half my female acquaintance have already heard that the Viscount called on us earlier and have begged an introduction,’ Amelia was saying, with a giggle. ‘I declare, we have not seen so much excitement in an age!’ She linked her arm through Sarah’s and the cousins walked slowly down the edge of the ballroom.
‘Greville looks very handsome tonight,’ Sarah observed, giving Amelia a meaningful look. ‘Not even Lord Renshaw can put him in the shade!’
‘Oh, Grev looks very well,’ Amelia said, so carelessly that Sarah wanted to shake her, ‘and I am very fond of him, of course, but in a brotherly sort of way!’
‘A favourite brother, perhaps,’ Sarah said tartly.
Amelia cast her a look from under her lashes. ‘Oh Sarah, do I treat him so badly? I do not mean to!’
‘You know you do not value him as you ought! Greville would never lose all his money at cards, or drink himself into oblivion the way your late husband did—’
‘No…’ Amelia sighed soulfully ‘…Alan was such exciting company!’
Sarah sighed. In her opinion, Alan Fenton had been a wastrel with nothing to commend him, and she could never understand why Amelia appeared to value his dashing looks over Greville’s integrity. They were almost upon Sir Greville now and she saw the glad light that sprang into his blue eyes as he looked at Amelia. It was too bad.
‘Miss Sheridan.’ Guy Renshaw took her hand, his touch evoking much the same shiver of awareness as it had done earlier in the day, and Sarah was instantly distracted. ‘You look delightful. I would ask you to dance, but I fear that 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.’