was not he that made you an offer. He has bought more mills and now has all he requires.’
‘So it was not he that made it? You are certain?’
‘Oh, I think you may be sure of it. He was reluctant to speak to me at first, but I persuaded him to my way of thinking. I made it clear that you have placed your affairs in my hands and that—should anything untoward happen to you—your estate would be subject to many trusts and clauses that would make it difficult to buy. He told me in no uncertain terms that he could not give a brass monkey’s...’
‘Then I may forget him. How good of you to take so much trouble over my affairs,’ Sarah said. ‘I am not sure how I may thank you.’
‘Do not trouble yourself over it. If I needed a reward, I would ask.’ His gaze intensified. ‘You still look troubled—has something happened while I was gone?’
‘Sir Roger visited in the company of James Monks this morning. He seems to imagine that if he persists in his pursuit it is only a matter of time before I cave in.’
‘I shall speak to the man—and, if need be, give him a thrashing.’
‘No, you must not. If I am unable to make him see I shall never give into his blandishments, I might ask you to warn him—but no violence.’ Sarah smiled. ‘Monsieur Dupree has already offered to shoot him for me if he attempts to seduce me.’
‘Indeed? And what business is it of his? You are not considering him as a husband, I hope?’
‘No, of course not. He is a pleasant young man—but perhaps a little young for me. Not much more than two and twenty I would imagine.’
‘And you are so long in the tooth, of course—four and twenty? Five and twenty?’
‘I was five and twenty on my last birthday,’ Sarah replied, a little smile on her lips. Her pulses raced and she felt a surge of joy. Oh, she had missed this banter so much. It was wonderful to have him home, even if his expression was already a little stormy. ‘No, I dare say I am no great age—but some people think a woman is on the shelf if she is much past twenty.’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ Rupert said. ‘Young girls can be delightful, of course, but I prefer a woman of sense.’
Sarah glanced away quickly. The heat in his eyes suggested he wished to take up where they had left off the night before he went away. She was torn by a swift violent longing, a burning desire to be in his arms and to know the sweetness of his kisses. Sarah was ready to become a woman in his arms, to learn why her body sang every time he was near. How they had haunted her dreams since his departure.
She knew she must tell him of her suspicions concerning Sir Roger, but now was not the time. All she could think of for the moment was the look in his eyes and what his lips would taste of if they touched hers.
‘You must excuse me,’ Rupert said. ‘I am stained from the journey. I must change and then speak to my uncle’s agent before tea. I shall leave you to continue with whatever pleasures you have planned for this afternoon.’
‘I think we may take a turn round the gardens as it is so warm. I shall take a book of plays, which Francesca has gone to fetch...and here she is now. I am sure she will be so pleased to see you.’
‘Rupert... It is so good to have you home,’ she said and then blushed. ‘We’ve missed you, haven’t we, Sarah?’ Sarah nodded, noticing the blush and slight hesitancy. John had rushed to embrace his mentor, but Francesca merely dipped a little curtsy and smiled. She was growing up, Sarah thought.
‘You look well, Francesca,’ Rupert said, going to greet her. He leaned forwards and kissed her cheek. ‘I am pleased to tell you that I have invited some friends for this weekend. I believe you will find companions that will bring excitement and pleasure to your life. I have a gift for you, as well as John—I will give it to you this evening. Now, if you will both excuse me...’
Rupert glanced at Sarah before walking away. She was confused by the signal he was giving her. Before he left he had shown her plainly that he meant to keep his distance, but now...having seen her home and realised that she was not a lady despite her education and wealth...did he now feel it was permissible to seduce her?
What could he be thinking of? It was quite out of the question, even if her body did clamour for his and her nights were disturbed by the feverish longings he’d aroused in her.
She could not but think that he was a dangerous flirt, a rake who could not help exercising his powerful charm on the ladies, even if he were not serious about pursuing them.
A part of her mind told Sarah that he was no such thing—that he was decent and honest and misunderstood—but she knew that he had had several mistresses, because Mrs Brancaster had warned her of the fact.
She had visited the housekeeper in her parlour one afternoon, taking a dish of tea with her when Francesca had been practising at the pianoforte. Mrs Brancaster had given her a particular look and she wondered if the staff had noticed something about Rupert’s manner towards her. They must think it odd that she continued in the house since she was not a governess and no longer in the marquess’s employ.
‘Such a pleasant gentleman,’ the housekeeper had said as she passed a cup. ‘Good-looking and in possession of a handsome fortune, so they say—but it will be a clever woman that catches that particular fish. I’ve heard he’s broken a score of hearts in his time.’
‘Well, I dare say he’s like most gentlemen,’ Sarah said, outwardly calm. ‘He has enjoyed being single and may settle once he’s married. Do they not say that reformed rakes make the best husbands?’
‘I’ve heard it said, miss,’ Mrs Brancaster said, pursing her lips. ‘But as I said, it will take a clever mind to trap that one—and he would never marry out of his class. His family is very proud. I suppose if he were desperate for money—but from what I hear of it, he has done very well for himself since he left the army.’
‘I expect he will fall in love one day, Mrs Brancaster. Who knows—perhaps he has done so already.’
‘He’s more likely to marry for property and rank than love,’ the housekeeper said darkly. ‘You mark my words, his sort always do.’
Sarah had not argued, for her mind told her it was the truth—though sometimes her heart whispered a completely different story.
* * *
Sarah was surprised when she went up to her room and discovered that her trunk had been taken up without her being aware of it. She’d sent most of her things home in this trunk, but when she opened it, she discovered that it had been repacked, probably by her maid. Indeed, she found a short note from Tilly, asking if she should join her mistress at Cavendish Park.
Sarah considered and then decided against it. Francesca was aware of her true standing, but she had not told the housekeeper or the maids that she was an heiress, only that she had come here to escape from an importunate suitor, and thought it best to keep things as they were. After the trip to London, she would never return here and no one need know about her masquerade.
Looking at some of the gowns that Tilly had packed for her, Sarah was tempted by one in particular. It was a yellow silk that she’d never worn. She hadn’t taken it with her on her business journey, but it was lovely and would look very well for an informal evening. However, since Rupert had
