the room and looked at Sarah, her face worried.
‘Sarah? Are you well?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘You look terribly pale.’
‘I am just rather tired.’
Amelia looked sympathetic. ‘I daresay you did not sleep well.’
‘Not particularly.’ Sarah managed a wan smile. ‘But I’ve had worse nights.’ Not many, however. ‘I thought I would see Grandfather.’
‘That is what I came to tell you. He wants to see you as soon as you are presentable. And, Sarah, Lady Beatrice is here.’ She knotted her hands together and looked as if she was about to deliver news of a death. ‘With Lord Huntington.’
Sarah stood outside her grandfather’s study and took a deep breath. It was all she could do to keep from turning tail and scrambling back to her room. But that would be of little use. She had to face him some time, unless she planned to disappear forever. She only prayed Lord Huntington and his formidable aunt, Lady Beatrice, were not with him.
She stepped inside and her stomach leaped to her throat. Heaven had not seen fit to answer in a favourable fashion. Her grandfather stood near his desk with Lady Beatrice seated in a wing chair in front of it. And Huntington stood near the mantelpiece. His cool, unfathomable gaze met hers before she tore her eyes away.
She looked at her grandfather and forced herself to speak. ‘You wished to see me, sir?’
‘Yes. However, you may come forward, my dear. I assure you none of us will bite.’ There was nothing in his face that indicated any sort of disgust of her.
‘No, sir.’ She moved across the room, taking care not to glance Huntington’s way, although every nerve in her body tingled with awareness of him.
She stopped tentatively in front of the cherrywood desk. Lady Beatrice rose. ‘Miss Chandler, I trust you are well.’ It was more of a statement than a question.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Sarah replied. She managed to meet Lady Beatrice’s sharp blue eyes. ‘And you, my lady?’
‘Well enough.’ She looked at Sarah closely. She was a large, imposing woman with a forthright manner and a reputation for outspokenness. ‘I will be much better as soon as this affair is settled. I wish, however, that you and my nephew had chosen a more suitable time to discover your mutual affection for one another.’
Sarah started. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Lord Monteville moved forward in a leisurely way. ‘I imagine it came as a shock to both of them to discover the feelings they had tried to keep suppressed were reciprocated. I believe they can be forgiven for their lapse in discretion.’ He looked at Lady Beatrice. ‘I am certain many of us have had a similar experience.’
Lady Beatrice actually looked taken aback. ‘I assure you I never have,’ she snapped.
‘No?’ Monteville turned his gaze to Sarah. ‘My dear, Lord Huntington is here to properly pay his addresses. I hope you will not let the unfortunate circumstances of the past influence your answer. I have given my consent to the match and I have hopes it may serve to heal the breach between the families.’
Sarah stared at him, wondering if she had taken leave of her senses. Whatever were they talking about? Mutual affection? Between her and Lord Huntington? She realised he was waiting for her to say something. ‘You…you have given your consent?’
‘Yes.’ There was the slightest warning in his cool eyes.
She stepped back. ‘Oh, dear.’
It was obviously not the correct answer. Lady Beatrice’s sharp, suspicious gaze swung to Sarah’s face. ‘You are not pleased?’
‘She is just shocked. As I was.’ Huntington had stepped to Sarah’s side. ‘We had never expected that Lord Monteville or you would consent to the match so readily.’ His hand came to rest on Sarah’s shoulder, his fingers exerting a slight pressure as if he warning her to say nothing. ‘I would like to speak to Miss Chandler alone.’
‘Very wise,’ Monteville said. ‘Come, Lady Beatrice, we will repair to the drawing room. Perhaps some refreshment would be in order.’ He moved towards the door and held it open. Lady Beatrice had no option but to follow. However, when she reached the doorway, she paused and looked back.
‘I trust there will be no repeat of last night. I should not want to find you have been engaging in such indecorous liberties again before you are properly wed.’ She stared at Sarah as if she suspected Sarah would throw herself at Huntington’s person as soon as the door was closed.
‘Miss Chandler will be quite safe,’ Huntington said drily. ‘I generally do not ravish ladies before dinner.’
Lady Beatrice frowned at him. ‘This is not the time for levity.’ She followed Monteville out, leaving the door open.
Huntington moved to the door and shut it firmly, then leaned against it as if he thought Sarah planned to escape. His handsome face had that unsmiling, remote expression she was so accustomed to; if it weren’t for the slightly dark shadows under his eye, as if he’d slept no better than herself, she would have thought he was completely unaffected.
Sarah finally spoke. ‘Would you please tell me what is going on, my lord?’ At least her voice was cool and steady, despite the feeling she had wandered into a strange dream where nothing made the least sense.
‘It seems we are betrothed, Miss Chandler,’ he said, his voice equally cool. ‘And in love.’
She stared at him. ‘In love? What…what sort of ridiculous notion is that?’
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘It was the only thing I could think of to explain last night’s débâcle, particularly after my aunt accused you of trying to seduce me.’
‘She thought I tried to seduce you?’ Had she even heard correctly? The sensation that she was in a bizarre dream only increased.
‘Yes.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Ironic, isn’t it? Your family thinks I tried to seduce you and mine is equally convinced you tried to seduce me.’
‘How…how odd.’
His brow shot up. ‘That is one way of putting it.’ He uncrossed his arms and moved from the door, coming to stand on the other side of the wing chair from Sarah. ‘I decided the best way to defuse the mounting storm was to confess we have been harbouring a secret but hopeless passion for each other and finally last night in Henslowe’s garden our finer feelings overcame our reservations. Unfortunately, my aunt insisted on accompanying me over here. Thank God, your grandfather asked no questions and went along with the scheme.’ His gaze swept over her face. ‘And you did not swoon or run shrieking from the room. I must compliment you, Miss Chandler.’
‘I never do those things.’ She suddenly felt rather breathless, for he had never said anything remotely complimentary to her before. Unbidden, the memory of his dark head bent towards her, his hand fumbling with the pin at her breast, sprang to her mind and she felt almost shaky.
She forced her gaze away. ‘So…so how long must we pretend to be betrothed,
