The Offer (Baron 2)

“Yes.”

“They were undoubtedly discussing what was to be done with me. And now, Richard Clarendon must needs be part of it. Perhaps, Margaret, they’re gambling, the loser will take me off everyone’s hands. Sabrina Eversleigh, neatly wrapped up like a Christmas gift and dispensed with quickly, to the most unlucky of them.”

“Don’t be a fool, Sabrina. You know that’s not true. Just stop it. You’re feeling sorry for yourself and I must tell you that I don’t like it. It doesn’t suit you. It’s really very unappealing.”

“All right, I’m sorry. Tell me, is there any news of my grandfather?”

“No, as far as I know his condition remains the same.” Margaret suddenly became brisk. “Now, Sabrina, it’s time you had a cup of tea. It will make you feel better. Just remember, you’re alive and soon will be well again. Your grandfather will recover, you’ll see.” Margaret wondered what was to become of her friend if she continued to refuse to marry Phillip. She realized that she was frankly amazed that any lady under the age of eighty would refuse Viscount Derencourt were he to offer for her. Sabrina wasn’t a fool nor was she naive. She knew that she’d been compromised, through no fault of her own, but that never made any difference to anyone. If ever there was anything redeeming in any scandal, it was quickly brushed beneath the rug.

What would it be like to have Phillip taking care of you for five days? She wished, in a small hidden part of herself, that she knew the answer to that.

“Sabrina, don’t you at least like Phillip?”

“Of course.”

“But—”

There was a light knock on the bedchamber door. Sabrina clutched at Margaret’s hand. Her teacup crashed to the floor. “Please, don’t let anyone in, Margaret, please.”

Margaret patted her hand. “What if it’s Phillip?”

“No, particularly not Phillip. Please, Margaret.”

“All right. Calm down. You’re turning red in the face.”

She walked slowly to the door, inched it open, and slipped out into the corridor.

The Marquess of Arysdale towered over her, Charles at his elbow.

“Richard wants to speak to Sabrina,” Charles said. “Is she awake?”

She looked up into the marquess’s darkly handsome face, dismissing the tug of attraction she felt. He was one of those rare men her mother had told her about, a man she could admire until her toes turned hot, but she wasn’t to touch, ever. “I’m sorry, my lord, but she doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“She’ll see me,” Richard said and stepped forward. Margaret put her hand on his sleeve. “My lord, I beg you to listen to me. Sabrina is still not well. So much has happened to her, and in so little time.”

“Come, Richard,” Charles said quietly. “Margaret’s right. You’ve got to give Sabrina some more time.”

The marquess looked undecided, his eyes still upon the closed bedroom door. “I wouldn’t make her worse.”

“No, I agree,” Charles said, “but Sabrina? Let her be for the moment, Richard.”

Margaret thought she heard him curse softly under his breath. He turned back to her, bending his dark eyes upon her upturned face. “Please tell Sabrina that I will return to speak with her this evening. She will not deny me entrance then.” Before Margaret could form a protest, the marquess had turned on his heel and was striding back down the corridor.

Charles looked after the marquess. He was worried, very worried. “Clarendon will see her, Margaret. He will have his way. Talk to Sabrina. At least now she’ll have some hours to consider her decision. Now, my dear, Mother is in the midst of most charmingly ridding us of our guests. You must come downstairs and make your good-byes.”

“Is Teresa Elliott gone yet?”

“Oh no. Phillip will probably have to lure her outside so that we may lock the door.” He grinned down at his sister, chucked her under her chin, and said, “She’ll leave. She’s got enough wit to know that she can’t stay.”

Margaret nodded briskly. “The sooner the better for that lady. My maid told me that she was wheedling about the servants for any tidbit of gossip. Phillip’s appearance with Sabrina turned her from a light breeze into a full-blown storm.”

Charles shrugged. “There’s really not a thing I can do about her except to see that her horses are healthy and ready to pull her carriage out of here.”

Margaret nodded. “I’ll speak to Sabrina. I don’t understand, Phillip. Why doesn’t she want either of them? What woman ever had such a choice?”

“Even I threw myself into the ring. It boggles the mind, doesn’t it?”

So Sabrina had been right, Margaret thought. They hadn’t drawn straws, but all three of them were ready to march to the altar with her.