of his closeness, of his body.
‘The only problem being, I do not know anyone I can trust well enough to turn up, out of the blue, with a battered secretary who has been absent from the scene for months and a wan-looking little sister.’ He raised his chin and squinted into the glass as he tied his neckcloth.
Sara dipped the brush in her toothpowder and scrubbed at her teeth, rinsed, spat and straightened up with an idea. ‘But I do. My parents have a house party and the first guests arrived yesterday. We can join that. I think you will need to tell them something of the background, but you can trust them absolutely to keep the secret and to play along with the deception.’
‘Whereabouts?’ Lucian stuck a pin in his neckcloth and turned. ‘It would be perfect—if they agree.’
‘Eldonstone is in Hertfordshire, near St Albans. About one hundred and fifty miles from here, I suppose.’ She took the walking dress out of the valise, gave it a shake, frowned at the creases and put it on anyway. This was where respectability began.
‘It would be perfect,’ Lucian repeated, slowly, ‘if you and I had not just become lovers.’
‘That is simple. We are not lovers for however long we are at Eldonstone,’ Sara said, rather more firmly than she felt. ‘Quite simple. We met at Sandbay, I became friends with Marguerite and invited you both to the house party. You have a great press of business, so Gregory comes, too. He has been away for some time recovering from whatever caused his injury and he and Marguerite see each other differently in these new surroundings.’
‘While you and I behave with great circumspection,’ Lucian said with resignation. ‘The things I do for my sister.’
She laughed and he turned from packing his valise to look at her, his expression serious but unreadable. ‘Are you all right? This morning—’
‘This morning was bliss and I cannot wait to do it again and I am very much all right, Lucian.’ She hesitated, wondering how to say this right, word it so that he understood she had no expectations beyond this relationship. ‘I feel free. Free to have made the choice to be your lover.’ Now she knew what she was doing, she had choice and there was nothing to feel guilty about in her relationship with this man. She had experienced more than enough guilt to last her a lifetime.
‘Good.’ He nodded, still serious. ‘That is good.’
So, Lucian had no desire for this to be anything but a coming together for mutual pleasure either. That was excellent, just what she wanted. Of course it was.
* * *
‘How good is your acting?’ Sara asked Marguerite as the chaise bumped off the cobbles and on to the road towards Lichfield. The relief of discovering that she could marry Gregory safely, or perhaps the effects of a night in her lover’s arms, had put roses in Marguerite’s cheeks and a glow in her eyes. I wonder if it has done that for me. She certainly felt physically transformed. Looser, warmer, more alive.
‘My acting?’ The young woman bit her lip in puzzlement. ‘I have no idea. Why?’
‘Because you are going to have to seem to either fall gradually for Gregory or to have a coup de foudre, a sudden revelation that you love him. What we must avoid at all costs is any impression that the two of you felt anything for each other before this house party.’
‘I can do that—in fact, I can see it all perfectly.’ Marguerite smiled. ‘I think perhaps I will be solicitous of him because of the injury. Lucian will be working him too hard and I will try to help. That will bring us close and then we will realise that we have loved each other all along and did not recognise it.’ She glanced out of the window at the front of the chaise, past the bobbing backs of the postilions, to where Gregory sat beside Lucian in the curricle.
The imperious blast of a horn behind them had both vehicles pulling over to let the mail coach sweep by. ‘That should be carrying my letter to my parents,’ Sara said. ‘I am hoping it will arrive at least an hour before we do.’ It would certainly help if Mata spoke about inviting Sara’s new friend and her brother in advance of their arrival. She had racked her brains to try to recall who was expected, but one could never tell with Mata, who might take the fancy to entertain anyone from a bishop to an actress, or sometimes both at the same time. Hopefully there would be at least a few pillars of the establishment, which was what was needed to ensure no shadow of gossip attached to Marguerite.
‘I cannot thank you enough for persuading Lucian to accept the match and to only hit Gregory once,’ Marguerite said earnestly. ‘I cannot believe how forgiving he is being.’
‘I suspect it is a mixture of realising he cannot shut the stable door given that the horse has bolted not once, but twice, and a reluctance to pulverise an injured man. What did happen to Gregory in France?’
‘A roof tile fell off a building that was being repaired. It did not hit him right on the head, thank goodness, or I think he would have been killed, but it tore right down the side of his face as you can see. He was taken unconscious to a nearby nunnery where the sisters cared for him and sent for a doctor, but they could not save his eye. He was unconscious, then in a high fever and in no state to explain himself, let alone get out of bed. It was two weeks before he could persuade someone to go round to the lodgings to find me and by then I was on my way back to England with Lucian.’ One fat tear ran down Marguerite’s cheek and she dashed it away. ‘He says I must not think about it, but I cannot bear to think of him in so much pain and so worried.’
‘That is all behind you now. This evening we will make certain that we are all telling the same story and everything will be well.’
‘You parents must be very kind for you to be so certain that they will welcome three extra guests at such short notice,’ Marguerite ventured. ‘But I expect they will be pleased about you and Lucian.’
‘About—what on earth do you mean?’ Mata might not turn a hair about Sara taking a lover if that made her happy, but her father and Ashe would react in a way that was completely predictable.
‘You are going to get married, aren’t you? I am so pleased about it. We will be sisters and—’
‘No, we are not going to get married,’ Sara snapped, too startled to control her reaction. ‘What on earth makes you think that?’
‘But...’ Marguerite’s cheeks were pink with embarrassment. ‘But you...he... Last night, there were only two bedchambers,’ she finished in a rush.
Sara gritted her teeth and kept her voice reasonable. ‘Marguerite, I am a widow. A discreet liaison in those circumstances is, shall we say, overlooked, by society.’
‘But don’t you love him?’ Marguerite looked mystified. ‘I was sure you loved him.’
‘I find your brother very attractive. I admire his desire to protect you. I also find him infuriating, stubborn, single-minded, authoritarian and domineering. He is the last man I would wish to marry.’
‘Truly? And he does not want to marry you?’
‘No.’ He made that perfectly clear. ‘He wants an affaire, has wanted it ever since he realised I was possibly...available. I have no doubt that next Season Lucian will be choosing a bride from the young ladies making their come-out.’
‘I think I know who he will choose.’ Marguerite wrinkled her nose. ‘She was out last Season and
