“Possibly. But it will lead you both to ferocious ragtag fights. Doubt it not, my lord.”
“Just so long as she doesn’t try to destroy my manhood, she can screech at me as much as she wishes. Actually, she excels at hurling things such as jam pots, plates, and such, at my head.” Phillip rose then. “Sabrina did me a great disservice by leaving London before I could speak with her again.” He frowned. “Actually, that’s not exactly true. I left her. I was sunk in a sinkhole and couldn’t get my brains together. It’s also true that we haven’t dealt well together since our marriage. However, it is my intention to assure that she will never again have the opportunity to misinterpret my feelings. Now, if you will tell me where I may find her.”
“And if she refuses to speak with you?”
A singularly gentle smile touched the viscount’s hazel eyes. “Then I’ll kiss her until she’s silly. If I have to I’ll even tie her down, then kiss her some more.”
“It’s likely you’ll find her either in the orchard or in the stables, playing with Miss Pixel’s new kittens.”
“I wonder if there’s a possible racing kitten among them?”
“Ah yes, even I’ve heard of the Mountvale racing cat trainers in southern England. It’s a wonderful sport though it has yet to catch on up here in the north. But everyone has heard of the McCaultry Racecourse near Eastbourne. Do you have a racing cat?”
“No, not yet. If she’s with the kittens, I’ll look them over for possible racing potential. Who says I have to be sanctioned by the trainers? Given time perhaps I could even figure out some of their strategies.”
Phillip took the earl’s hands once again into his and pressed them slightly. “I thank you, sir. Sabrina is mine now. I haven’t done well by her since our marriage. However, I will take very good care of her from now on. And I will tie her down if I have to. She will listen to me.”
“Perhaps she will,” the old earl said and waved the viscount off. “Good luck. You will need it.”
“I bid you good-bye, sir, for both your granddaughter and myself. We shall come—together—in a couple of weeks to see you again.” He grinned. “No, I won’t kill Trevor, if he doesn’t push me, that is. It’s just that even thinking about the rotter pushes me.”
Phillip met Ribble downstairs. “You have her ladyship’s portmanteau all packed?” He had no intention of spending this night beneath the same roof with her brother-in-law.
“Yes, my lord.”
But she wasn’t in the orchard. Nor was she in the stables, playing with Miss Pixel’s kittens. He didn’t take the time to see if there could possibly be a potential racing cat among the litter.
She was gone, damn her beautiful eyes. Phillip yelled to the rafters.
It was the head stable lad, Elbert, who came running. He said, “Lady Sabrina ain’t here, m’lord. She told me to give ye a message.”
The man stopped, shuffled his feet, and looked like he wanted to sink into the hay. Phillip was on the edge of strangling him. “What, damn you? Connect your brain and your mouth.’
“She said, m’lord, to tell ye that she’s left the Abbey and that she won’t be back until ye take yer leave. She said she didn’t want to see ye, that ye had to leave her be.”
“Did she tell you where she was going?” Phillip asked, his voice furiously calm. The man shook his head. “Did she take a horse?”
“The brown mare.”
“What sort of brown mare?”
“Jest yer average sort, m’lord. Nothing here, nothing there, jest a brown mare. I don’t know no more, m’lord. None of us know no more.”
He knew then that he was in the middle of a conspiracy. He wanted to knock their heads together, but time was of the essence. He had to find her. He honestly doubted she’d told them where she’d gone because she knew he’d probably intimidate them. Well, if he believed they knew anything, he’d threaten to gullet them. “Well, hell,” he said, turned on his heel, and left the stable.
42
Dinwitty Manor
“Hello, my dear, You must be Phillip’s new wife, Sabrina. That’s a lovely name and you have very seductive eyes. The color, it’s violet? Yes, how unique, not a boring blue like mine. I will teach you to use those eyes to good effect. You’re very young. You have a long time to learn, but you will have to apply yourself. I’m Charlotte Carrington, of course. Rohan’s mother.”
“You can really teach me how to use my eyes to make men wild?”
“That is the point, my dear. One begins, naturally, with one’s husband.”
“That could pose a problem, Charlotte.”
Sabrina took a step back and the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen in her life floated into the house like a fairy princess wearing golden slippers. Cotter, the Mercerault butler, was staring as well. She saw from the corner of her eyes that three footmen were all stacked upon each other to see her. She was a goddess, her beautiful thick blond hair piled artfully on her perfect head, her eyes a brilliant blue, not boring as she claimed, but mesmerizing. Just the purity of her features was enough to make any breathing person come to a full stop and stare at her.