Charles dropped himself into a holland-covered chair. “How long have you had Sabrina here?”
“Five or six days now, I’m not really certain,” Phillip said easily. “By the way, Charlie, just exactly who is she anyway?”
Charles raised incredulous eyes to the viscount’s face. “What the devil kind of question is that? You don’t know?”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad. She isn’t royalty, is she? As a matter of fact, she’s refused to tell me who she is. You’re my only hope.”
Charles felt immense anger, the first time he’d ever felt such anger at Phillip in his life. “How could you? Where did you come across her? Don’t you realize how very young she is? How innocent? Dear God, Phillip, I can’t believe you would have seduced a young lady of quality. But you did, didn’t you? You gave her that lazy smile of yours and she allowed herself to be seduced. Damn you, she’s young and guileless, she didn’t know any better. Oh, and then later she realized what she’d done. And that’s why she must have refused to tell you who she was. She knew if she told you then even you wouldn’t have brought her here.”
“Charlie, who is she?”
“She’s the Earl of Monmouth’s granddaughter.”
Phillip was stunned. Now he remembered where he’d heard her father’s name. Yes, it was from the Peninsula, but it was from one of Wellington’s men. Major Eversleigh had had to go home because his father, the Earl of Monmouth, had become very ill. And then he’d returned, only to die at Cuidad Rodrigo.
But he shouldn’t be surprised. Damnation. He said, “Let me tell you something, Charles. I didn’t seduce her. I was following your impossible directions to Moreland when I found her close to the edge of the forest, unconscious and suffering from severe exposure. Luckily for her, I remembered passing this place and brought her here, just as the blizzard gained its full strength. So she is the earl’s granddaughter, you say? Why the devil didn’t she want to tell me? Why was she so bloody frightened? What would it matter? It doesn’t matter. Why? Ah, this teases my brain. You know what, Charles? I think I’ll strangle her when she wakes up. Yes, now that she’s finally well again, she deserves to be throttled.”
Charles groaned and rose to fetch himself a third glass of sherry. He didn’t like this and he knew he was going to like it less as time went on.
Phillip said from behind him, “Who is a man named Trevor?”
“Trevor? Oh, you mean Trevor Eversleigh, the Earl of Monmouth’s nephew and heir. He recently wed Elizabeth—Sabrina’s older sister—it wasn’t above a month ago
. Quite a lot of flash and ceremony. Sabrina seemed quite all right then. Why, Phillip? What is this all about? What does Trevor have to do with Sabrina being here with you? You said she was sick?”
“Yes, very ill. The fever came upon her. I feared several times that I’d lose her, but she pulled through. She’s tough. She’s just very weak now, but on the mend. Have you known Sabrina long?”
“Little Bree? I’ve known her all her life. Monmouth Abbey lies only about ten miles to the west of Moreland. She was really that ill? You’re certain that she’ll be all right?”
“Yes. As I said, she’s just very weak now. In a week or so she should be quite fit again.” Phillip turned suddenly toward the door. “Follow me, if you please, Charles, my bread should have sufficiently raised itself by this time for baking. I finally found some yeast. It certainly makes a difference.”
“Your what?”
Phillip merely grinned and left the room, Charles on his heels. When they reached the kitchen, a room Charles had never been in in his entire life, he watched Phillip walk to the big central block surface, pick up an apron, and tie it around his waist.
Phillip looked up and grinned at him. “I’m lord and master here,” he said, waving his arm about the kitchen. He tested the dough. “If my meager experience serves me, my yeast needs more time to work its magic. Do sit down, Charles. I’m at present tied to my kitchen.”
For the first time, Charles took in the viscount’s appearance. His white shirt, though clean enough, was wrinkled, as were his fawn-colored breeches. His Hessians were a disaster. “Oh, God, wait until Dambler sees you. He’s going to have apoplexy, Phillip.”
“I’d prayed that Dambler was with you. I trust you’ve kept him from searching for me in the snow. He’s a fine fellow but feels I’m still a lad to be shepherded and protected.”
“He’s very worried, as were all of us. He’s out looking for you with the other men. Both you and Sabrina Eversleigh, I might add. I wish I had another sherry.”
“Come, spit it out, Charlie.”
“Teresa Elliott,” Charles said, and that was enough, surely.
“What about her? She’s at Moreland, right?”
“She’s too much at Moreland. She’s been driving everyone mad, utterly mad. She was trying to shove me out into the blizzard to search for you. It’s a close call, Phillip, but now you don’t have to worry about that harpy getting her quite pretty fingers into you.”
“I would never have married Teresa Elliott. Not in a million years. Not until the earth crumbled to dust, not until my great-aunt Millie went to the hereafter, which likely won’t be until the turn of the next century. No, not a worry there. Calm yourself, Charles.”
“Well, even if she didn’t bedazzle you with her beauty—which I can’t deny is near to overpowering—it’s now out of the question.”
“Charles, what the devil are you talking about? If my faulty memory hasn’t failed me, I recall having taken her for only one ride in the park. That certainly shouldn’t give any lady hopes of marriage.”
“Do you forget that you danced with her twice at Lady Branson’s ball? Believe me, I didn’t remember it, but she must have told me about it six times in the last three days. Evidently, Teresa places sufficiently high confidence in herself to think she would bring you about to bending your matrimonial knee. But as I said, Phillip, she is no longer in the picture. You’ve jumped from the frying pan into the flames. Not that the flames aren’t quite lovely.”