The Offer (Baron 2)

“When I make up my mind I will tell you. But I do know that if I laugh, it will just encourage you.”

“Probably so.” He felt her fingertips tapping on his shoulder and thought, a slight smile on his lips, of his previous night with Martine. He whirled her about until she was panting. Just before the waltz ended, Phillip lowered his chin to the thick coronet of braids atop her head and said in a pensive voice, “I wish you would allow me to be the second St. George. You are a damsel in distress, Sabrina. It’s true, you know, and nothing you want to believe will change it. Won’t you reconsider?”

“I would never repay you by asking you to give up your life. Besides, just look around. Everyone likes me, Phillip. St. George really isn’t necessary.”

He just sighed. Then the orchestra struck up another waltz and he whirled her toward the middle of the dance floor.

“A third waltz. How very kind you are. I do so enjoy it.”

If only you understood what a third waltz means, he thought, his laughing smile firmly in place.

25

He saw the avid curiosity in everyone’s eyes. This was their third waltz. A second waltz was as good as an announcement in the Gazette. A third, and they were as good as married in the eyes of society. He’d been right that Sabrina, in her ignorance of London rules, was sublimely unaware that three waltzes as good as put a wedding ring on her finger. He refused to feel guilty about it. Let her aunt Barresford deal with it.

After some moments, he said, “I must leave London for several days, to go to my home near Oxford. I shall be back no later than Monday. Would you like to ride in the park with me when I return?”

“You mean they actually allow merchants’ relatives in the park, my lord?”

She was trying not to laugh, and he was pleased. “Since,” he said, bland as tepid tea, “you will be in my company, there’s no need for you to worry. If anyone says anything about you not belonging, I will speak up and protect you.”

She tilted her head back. “I swear that one day, Phillip Mercerault, I will have the last word.”

“Since I am eight years your senior and come from clearly superior stock, I truly doubt it is possible, but we will see, won’t we?”

“I doubt that,” she said, but knew he’d outdone her. She said, “I know where your home is. However, I know little else about it.”

He laughed down at her, his white teeth flashing. So she wanted to know about his home, did she? Well, it would probably be her home, so he willingly said as he slowed their pace, “Have you ever traveled to Oxford, Sabrina?”

She shook her head. “I’ve heard that it’s not as beautiful as the Cotswolds.”

“Ah, a pox on you for that remark. It is glorious, actually. My family home is called Dinwitty Manor, a truly abysmal name but the heiress who saved my ancestors’ hide demanded, I suppose, that the name be changed, and so it was. She renewed our wealth and fortunately since that time no viscount has been a wastrel. In fact, pleasantly enough, all have been fairly astute in matters of money. Dinwitty Manor has somewhat of a reputation of being rather oddly fashioned.”

“Whatever does that mean?”

“Let’s just say that all my ancestors had differ

ent architectural bents. There were many different styles. I am of a medieval bent, you could say. My father was of a Moorish bent. My grandfather was of a classical bent. It has made for a charming if unusual house.”

“It sounds intriguing.”

He cocked an eyebrow, lowered his voice, and said, “There is a very nice nursery.”

He thought her eyes crossed.

“In addition to a nursery, there is also an exquisite library. The ballroom, my grandfather’s addition, is at the back of the house and is fairly dripping with carved cherubs from the ceiling—really quite disconcerting, particularly when one is trying to mind one’s steps.”

The music came to a halt, and Phillip, curse his scheming eyes, merely smiled at her and said, “Would you like to dance yet another dance?”

Her eyes were glowing. “Oh, drat. Look, Phillip, my aunt is waving to me. Goodness, she’s frowning. Why would she be frowning? I’ve done absolutely nothing to displease anybody, since I’ve danced with you, and quite passably, at least according to you.”

“I’ll take you back to her. It’s likely she wants you to meet other gentlemen.” He wondered if Lady Barresford would shriek at Sabrina for dancing not two, but three dances with him.

“I suppose you’re right. Will you waltz with me again after I’ve done my duty with the other gentlemen? I do so enjoy it.”

“I’m sorry, not tonight. I have another engagement and must leave now.”

He returned Sabrina to her aunt, noting well the speculative gleam in that lady’s sharp eyes. “My lady. Sabrina, I’ll return to London on Monday. We will go riding in the park then.”