The Offer (Baron 2)

She felt the coldness of the diamonds flat against her th

roat, then the warmth of his fingers touching the back of her neck. He said, “I wanted something new for you. All the other Mercerault pieces are heavy and old, too big for you. There, do you like it?”

But she didn’t look at the necklace first. She looked in the mirror at him, standing behind her. “Beautiful,” she said. “Simply beautiful.”

He looked suddenly embarrassed.

“The necklace, Sabrina.”

“I don’t look like myself. It glitters so much it will blind our guests.”

“Good. That will keep all the men from staring at you.”

Staring at her? Now that was a jest that didn’t deserve to be repeated.

He was looking about her bedchamber. “Mrs. Hawley told me you moved in here yesterday. Will it be all right until we can have the viscountess’s bedchamber redone for you?”

“It’s fine.”

Phillip ran his hand over the top of a French chair covered in a pale blue velvet that she’d found in another room and moved in here. It was a lovely chair, one that surely wouldn’t hold his weight.

“I didn’t buy that chair.”

“No, I know that you didn’t.”

“But if I had bought the chair, then I would have paid for it myself.”

“That’s kind of you. Now, shall we go downstairs?”

As they walked down the wide staircase, she remembered the gown and gulped. “I must tell you the truth, Phillip. The gown was very expensive. I forgot about it, really. Would you like me to pay for it?”

“No. Consider the necklace and the gown wedding presents from your doting husband.”

He gazed thoughtfully at her a moment. “There’s one guest you’re not expecting. I hope you’ll enjoy seeing him.”

She had no idea what man he could possible have invited for her. And he wouldn’t even give her a hint.

The twenty guests who sat down at the long dining table amid laughter and rustling gowns included not one unknown face. She looked down at the head of the table when there was a shout of laughter. Everyone around Phillip was laughing at something he’d said. She gave over her attention to the Countess of March, a beautiful young lady who was ready to amuse and be amused.

As the meal progressed to the baked pheasant, Sabrina glanced down to where her aunt Barresford was seated and was relieved to see a smile on her relative’s face. No one had refused her invitation, and Sabrina wondered with some cynicism if the guests had come merely to see if she would embarrass herself.

She was forced to marvel at her husband’s adept handling of their guests. Both gentlemen and ladies alike appeared to bask in his attention, tossed with cavalier charm first to one, then to another. To her prejudiced eye, there was but one other gentleman to rival him. The Earl of March, seated near the middle of the long table, next to Aunt Barresford, appeared to be in his element, just as was the viscount. As for the Countess of March, that young lady had been very kind to her. “My dear,” she whispered low just as they were leaving the dining room, “we must discuss how best to strip this masculine stronghold of its bachelor trappings. At last Phillip has seen the light. It’s a good thing. I’ve always liked him, but now that he has you, I daresay he’ll improve nearly to the sainthood of my husband. Yes, you must visit me in Grosvenor Square and we will settle upon a strategy.”

By ten o’clock the ballroom was filled with more guests than had their wedding reception just a week ago, Sabrina thought. Only a week.

“Your husband has done quite well by you, Sabrina,” her aunt Barresford remarked, surveying the beautifully dressed men and women. “I imagine that Teresa Elliott must be having a fit not to have been invited, not that she should have expected to be, given what she did to you.”

Aunt Barresford appeared to have changed her stripes. Sabrina just smiled. “Phillip said if he ever saw her again he would wring her neck, but I told him that if we didn’t invite her, I would have just one more enemy to deal with. He agreed, but he didn’t want to. I’m sorry she’s evidently decided not to come.”

A half hour later Teresa Elliott arrived on the arm of her brother, Wilfred. He didn’t look at all happy. Resigned, yes, that was how poor Wilfred looked. As for Teresa, she looked beautiful, but there was a dangerous glitter in her eyes. Sabrina prayed she’d keep a hold on herself.

Wilfred was saying to his sister, his voice low and controlled, “You’ve ranted and acted like a fishwife for the entire past week. If you have a brain in your head, if you have an ounce of sense, you’ll make a push to be pleasant.”

“Just look at her, Wilfred, lording it all over everybody, just like she belonged.”

“She does belong. If you value your social position, you’d best wipe that nasty look off your face. You don’t want everyone to know you’ve had a telling blow, do you?”

Teresa was forced to hold her peace as she and Wilfred came to the viscount and viscountess in the receiving line.