The Offer (Baron 2)

“Oh, dear, you must be exhausted. One can just imagine what you’ve had to do with that girl, being with her constantly. I don’t suppose she was younger than fourteen, was she?”

He just shook his head. Teresa knew exactly how old Sabrina was, probably to the day and the hour, he’d bet on it.

But he asked anyway. “How is it that you know what I’ve been doing for the past five days?”

She pursed her lips into a pout she’d obviously been practicing in her mirror, and on other gentlemen as well. “It’s obvious for all to see, my lord. Did you not arrive with her here? Did you not carry her upstairs and put her in her bed? Was not her head on your shoulder as if she’d become quite used to having her head resting in that exact place on your person?” She gave a laugh that was a bit on the shrill side. “You know what servants are, my lord. I’ve been hearing quite the oddest stories.”

“You shouldn’t listen to servants’ gossip, Teresa. It isn’t becoming.” But he knew full well that the matter was no doubt being discussed with great relish among both gentry and servants. “Are you acquainted with Richard Clarendon, the Marquess of Arysdale? Richard, Miss Elliott.”

She was forced to turn from Phillip. When she got a full view of Richard Clarendon, the turn was worth it. He was dark as the devil, he had the look of a man who always knew exactly what he was doing, and she knew right to her toes that he would take a woman and make her scream with pleasure. She knew this and she was still a virgin. Her hand trembled as he took it and lightly kissed her wrist. If she hadn’t already promised Phillip her virginity, at least in her inner thoughts, Richard Clarendon would certainly be the next gentleman on her list

. She’d heard about him, of course. She wondered if it was true that the number of married ladies he’d bedded exceeded three dozen.

“It’s a wonderful pleasure, my lord,” she said, watching his dark head bend over her wrist, seeing how finely he was put together. She’d never been this close to him before. It was a revelation. She smiled to herself, knowing that her beauty normally had such an effect on most gentlemen. The marquess would be no exception.

To her chagrin, the marquess said only, “My pleasure, Miss Elliott,” and turned abruptly away.

Charles rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted was a scene from this young lady who should have been drowned on her sixteenth birthday. He saw that her eyes were glittering dangerously. She wanted Richard to fall all over her. Damnation, what was he to do? He cleared his throat, shot a look fraught with pleading toward Phillip, which the viscount ignored, then said, “My dear Teresa, you’ve come upon us at a rather trying time. We were discussing business. It is something I swear to you would be more boring than death. May we be allowed to enjoy your company at dinner?”

“You know you’re discussing what to do with that miserable girl, not business.”

“We will see you later, Teresa,” Phillip said in a firm tone his own father had often used with excellent effect on him when he’d been a boy.

Teresa was more than curious. Phillip was hers and she had to know what had gone on between him and the girl upstairs in a guest bedchamber. But even she had enough wit to realize that now wasn’t the time. They were closing her out. It was aggravating. She frowned at the marquess, but he was staring into the fireplace. It was a nice fire, but it was she he should be looking at with such concentration. She would think about whether or not she would take him as a lover after she’d given Phillip his requisite heir. Why did he care about that girl upstairs?

She smiled. It was difficult, but she was accomplished, and she managed it. She waved an airy hand. “As you will, gentlemen. Do decide what to do with that stray girl upstairs. I would like to have a nice Christmas party, something Charles and Margaret promised me when I arrived, and we can’t until she’s gone.”

“I repeat, Teresa,” Phillip said, “you shouldn’t listen to gossip.” He was ready to leap upon her and strangle her with his bare hands. Sabrina, a stray girl? Damnation, he knew his face was red.

“As you will,” she said in a submissive voice that her mother had forced her to learn, waved to the three of them again, indiscriminately, then walked gracefully from the room.

Charles watched her leave with distaste. “If you marry her I will never speak to you again, Phillip.”

Phillip said to Charles, “I wouldn’t ever speak to myself if I married her. Actually, I wouldn’t marry her if I were randier than a dozen goats and she was the last female available.”

“She’s a bitch,” Richard said, never one to mince words. “Now she’s gone. Let’s get back to the business at hand.” But he continued to stare into the fireplace, his attention seemingly focused on the licking tongues of orange flame. He said, “I know your tastes don’t run to innocent young virgins, Phillip. But Sabrina is so vibrant, so animated, so very different from any other lady of noble birth I’ve ever met, that you’ve ever met. She alternately charms me and ignores me. One minute she’ll listen to me as if I were the smartest man alive, the next, she’s laughing at me. I know she must have done the same to you. How could you resist her? You’ve seen her naked, Phillip. That I cannot tolerate. You’ve touched her and that I can tolerate even less.”

“Stop gritting your teeth, Richard,” Phillip said mildly.

“Damn you, she’s never even let me kiss her.” Actually he remembered that she’d laughed that innocent guileless laugh of hers when he’d made the attempt. He could still see those violet eyes of hers, looking at him, looking too far into him, and her good humor when she’d told him not to behave like Neddy Brickle, the blacksmith’s son who’d grabbed her and pulled her behind a stable and tried to kiss her. “Damn you, she didn’t even realize who I was.”

“You mean,” Charles said, “that she didn’t realize what an honor it was to have you trying to kiss her?”

“Shut your mouth, Charlie. That isn’t what I meant, exactly. But you, Phillip, she was with you for five nights as well as those days. Aren’t her eyes incredible? Surely you noticed?”

“Yes, her eyes are unique.”

“And that hair of hers, not red, but a very rich auburn color.”

“Yes, she’s got beautiful hair.”

“Surely she intrigued you, didn’t she?”

“No.”

“You’re lying, damn you. Did you lay a hand on her, Phillip?”

“Of course,” Phillip said calmly. “Enough of this nonsense, Richard. She nearly died. I did everything in my power to keep her alive. Would you have preferred that I left her lying in the snow? She was nearly blue, you know.”