The Offer (Baron 2)

Sabrina opened her eyes at the sound of Phillip’s voice.

“Well, whatever you told Clarendon, it is still his opinion that I’m to be the lucky man. I came here to ensure that was indeed the case.”

She shrugged. It annoyed him, but not all that much. He wanted to see a reaction, even anger, anything but that flattened look of hers.

“He said you plan to go to your aunt Barresford. Just what makes you think, my dear, that your aunt would joyously welcome an unexpected visit from her niece?”

“I have ten thousand pounds.”

Phillip cocked a brow. “An heiress, in short. As I live and breathe, an heiress. That’s excellent. Now everyone will believe that I’ve married you for your fortune, and your no doubt sizable dowry. Actually I much prefer being thought a fortune hunter rather than a chivalrous fool.”

“I won’t wed for the wealth I would bring a gentleman.”

He nodded agreeably. “That’s no problem. We will put your fortune in your name or in trust for our children.”

Sabrina stared at him, then opened and shut her mouth. He was building a wall of words, and she was throwing herself impotently against it. She thought she would prefer another interview with Richard Clarendon. At least with him, it had been she who had been the calm, rational one. “Phillip,” she said, in an effort to focus his attention away from his logic, “it appears to me that you’re taking your defeat at the wager as a good sportsman should. However, you may be sure that I shan’t hold you to it. You may inform Charles and Richard that I can take care of myself without any of your powerful male assistance.”

“What the devil did you just say?” Suddenly he was alert, and she saw it. “What defeat at what wager?” Even as he said the words, he remembered Charles’s stupid jest about offering himself as the sacrificial husband. He looked away from her.

She meant her laugh to be filled with wonderful scorn, but it came out bitter as old coffee. “You can’t deny it, can you? You and Charles and the wretched marquess are all eyeing each other like crowing banty roosters, fighting to keep your ridiculous male honor as well as your freedom. Well, I’ll tell you, Phillip, I won’t have it. I’m not damaged goods and I refuse to shout to the world that I am by marrying any one of you. Now, I’m very tired and have found you a bore. Good night, Phillip. You always know your way about. Surely you can find your way out.”

She turned onto her side, away from him.

Phillip was silent for some moments. She felt the bed give way as he rose.

He said slowly, and she heard the sadness in his voice, “The world is very seldom the way we wish it to be, Sabrina.”

“Then the world must change, and I shall force it to.”

“I see that you must learn for yourself. The world will not change its rules for you, Sabrina. I presume that I will see you in London.”

“Yes,” she said. “But first I am going to visit my grandfather. If he needs me, I shall, of course, do what I must.”

He drew a deep breath. “You’ve refused to listen to me about anything else, Sabrina, but I ask you to listen to me now. Your grandfather is too ill even to recognize you. There is absolutely nothing you can do to help him.”

She struggled up onto her elbows and turned toward him. “Don’t you understand, Phillip? I must be certain that he is being properly taken care of. You don’t know Trevor. He has no love for any of us, least of all Grandfather. And only he stands between Trevor and the earldom. All the Eversleigh wealth. I must go.”

The viscount was silent, his gaze fastened on the dark shadows in the corner of the bedchamber. He looked down at her and said abruptly, “Will you trust me to see that the earl is properly cared for and that he is protected from your cousin?”

“But what can you do?”

“Answer me. Will you trust me to see that all is taken care of?”

“I suppose,” she said slowly, too aware of her own helplessness, “that since I trusted you with my life, I can also trust you with his. Thank you, my lord, for all you have done for me.”

“Could you not also trust me with your future?”

“No, my lord. I’m not the kind of person to use another person’s honor against him.”

She heard him sigh as he picked up the candle and turned to leave.

“Good-bye, Sabrina.”

He didn’t want her reply. No sooner had he spoken than he turned away from her. She saw a dim shaft of light from his candle in the hall before he closed the door behind him.

22

London Three Weeks Later