The Offer (Baron 2)

“I don’t know anything about teasing.”

He sighed. “No, of course you don’t. Now, I asked you to dance because I want to speak to you.”

The set formed and they were almost immediately separated. Sabrina set a smile on her mouth and let her feet move. She curtsied and walked down the line, giving her hand first to one gentleman, then to another. It wasn’t particularly strenuous, yet she was out of breath at the end of the dance.

She felt his hand upon her arm. “I imagine you still tire easily.”

“Yes, but it gets better every day.”

“I don’t want to return you just yet. As I said, I want to speak to you. Would you care for a glass of punch? It should help revive you.”

She nodded. She laid her hand on his arm. They walked across the huge ballroom to the dining room where there were several long tables holding quantities of food, everything from oyster cakes to apple tortes.

“Are you hungry?”

She shook her head.

Phillip placed a filled glass in her hand and accepted a goblet of champagne from a footman. “To London and your evident success.”

She sipped her punch. It was very sweet. She put it down. “Let’s drink to a world that doesn’t need to be changed. My success isn’t just evident, it’s a fact.”

“No, Sabrina. It’s just that the world doesn’t as yet know.”

“Do you intend to make an announcement?”

“It isn’t necessary. Your world right now is made of glass. It will require but one thrown rock—but one vicious tongue—and it will shatter.”

“But that makes no sense. I haven’t done anything to anyone. I scarcely open my mouth. My aunt does all the talking. I just smile and nod and do what I’m told. No, Phillip, there’d be no reason for such viciousness as you describe.”

He could only shake his head. “You’re remarkably innocent, Sabrina. It will happen, you know. It’s just a matter of time. Did you receive my letter?”

“Yes, just this morning.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Phillip. I can never repay you.”

“I trust you’ve stopped your worrying?”

“For the most part.”

“You’re lying, but that’s all right. As I wrote in my letter, your grandfather is improving steadily. He’s a tough old eagle. Your rapacious cousin, Trevor, will chomp at the bit for many years before taking his turn. Something I didn’t write, just in case your aunt would read your mail, is that the earl is safe from Trevor, I promise you.”

She frowned, her eyes upon his exquisitely tied cravat. “What did you do?”

“I went to Monmouth Abbey. I saw the rotter. I made things perfectly clear to him.”

23

“You did what? What did you say, Phillip? You actually saw him? Did you shoot him? Please tell me it was just a little hole in his arm, nothing to kill him.”

He laughed. “Actually, I believe in about six months I shall go back to Monmouth Abbey and beat him into the ground.” He didn’t add that Richard Clarendon would probably be with him, or get there before he did. The thought of it nearly made him rub his hands together. “Now listen to me, Sabrina. Yes, I went to Monmouth Abbey and cornered both Trevor and your blushing bride of a sister. They deserve each other, you know.”

She looked up at him helplessly.

“But why?”

“They both have the moral fiber of ants.”

“I don’t really know about Aunt Barresford’s moral fiber.”

“No, not aunts. I was referring to the very small creature that always enjoys a picnic.”