The Offer (Baron 2)

“It was Phillip?” Sabrina asked when Margaret came back into the room.

Margaret shook her head. “No, it was the Marquess of Arysdale. He wants to speak to you, Sabrina. Charles helped me put him off, but only until this evening. You will have to talk with him or else he just might kick the door down.”

Sabrina felt as if a small precious light had been extinguished. But what did it matter? “Very well. I’ll preserve the door and speak to him.” Where was Phillip? Why hadn’t he come to her yet? Would he remain much longer at Moreland?

After Margaret left, Sabrina let her mind wander to the carriage trip from Charles’s hunting box to Moreland. Phillip had cradled her in his arms; he’d said nothing much of anything, except to Charlie, and his face had been calm and blank. She’d been thankful for his silence, truly she had. But why hadn’t he come to her? At least to say good-bye? She recognized her own perversity but she found no humor in it.

She stared grimly at the closed bedroom door. Had Richard Clarendon been chosen to be the sacrificial husband? Somehow, she could not imagine the marquess doing anything that was not precisely to his liking. Surely he still couldn’t wish to marry her.

She sighed and closed her eyes. If Richard did indeed offer for her, she would just have to save him from himself.

Perhaps it was the flickering light of the candle touching her face that awakened her. Sabrina opened her eyes, followed the candlelight to its source, and saw Phillip seated on her bed, looking at her intently, his expression impassive.

She smiled. She was used to his being by her bed, in her bedchamber. There was no shock, just a pleasant recognition, a sense of safety because he was here and he wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

He didn’t smile back at her.

“What is the time?” she asked, trying to come up on her elbows.

He was up in an instant, his large hands on her shoulders, gently pressing her back down. “No, just stay put. I don’t

need you to be a hostess. It’s just after midnight. I’d hoped the candlelight would awaken you sooner or later. I’m glad it was sooner or else I might have fallen asleep here.”

“What are you doing here, Phillip? We’re no longer in Charles’s hunting box. As you told me a number of times, you being alone with me is very improper.” She laughed. “Not that it matters one whit. I could have a battalion of men parade through here and it wouldn’t matter, would it?”

“So, at last you’re being reasonable about all this.”

“There is nothing reasonable about my reputation being ruined. It isn’t fair or even close to the truth.”

“So? What is your point?”

“There is no point,” she said at last. “It’s the way things are, the way things will remain.”

“That’s right, at least in the foreseeable future.” He sat down beside her, laying his hand across her brow. “You’re feeling better now?”

“Yes. What are you doing here, Phillip?”

“Richard told me—he was in the vilest of moods—that you wouldn’t marry him. He wanted to beat me to a pulp, but decided that if you’d decided I was to be the lucky man, then I couldn’t very well go to the altar with a blackened eye. I wanted to see if he was right, but I waited until everyone had gone to bed. I’ve only been here an hour or so. Watching you sleep. You look very peaceful when you’re asleep, Sabrina. At one point you even smiled a bit. Do you remember what you were dreaming? No? Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Richard was wrong. I told him I didn’t intend to marry anyone.” She closed her eyes a moment, picturing the marquess towering over her bed, his look so bewildered, so incredulous, that if she’d had it in her, she would have laughed. And when he spoke, he sounded as bewildered as he looked. “You refuse my offer, Sabrina?”

“Yes, Richard, but I do thank you for your kindness, for your concern.”

“We’re not talking about anything that is even close to kindness or concern. Don’t you muck around with those silly words with me. Dammit, I was to wed you in any case. It was all arranged. Your grandfather approved the match.”

“My grandfather said nothing to me, my lord,” she said, and the fire in her eye, the bit of ire, disconcerted Richard, but not for long.

“You knew I wanted you. Every female I’ve known has recognized when a man is interested in her in that particular way.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“So, I see the truth now. You spend five days with Phillip Mercerault and you are ready to whistle me down the wind.”

If she’d had the strength, she would have leapt from the bed and pounded him into the carpet. The anger felt good. “My lord, you will listen to me. I’m not the sort of woman who teases a man, who leads him on, and then laughs at him. Now, you have made your gallant offer. I have said no. You are now freed of your obligation to me, if indeed there ever really was an obligation.

“My intention is to first of all visit my grandfather to assure myself that he is well cared for. Then I shall go to London, to my aunt Barresford. You know, of course, that there is no place for me now at Monmouth Abbey.”

And Richard had raged and argued and insulted her, all without really realizing what he was doing.