Tempting Sarah Page 2

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  Chapter 2

  As Lord Eustace’s postchaise bowled down the road, Sarah relaxed against the silken squabs. She was very comfortable. Unlike their old coach, the chaise was very well-sprung. She thought that she had never ridden in such style before. In addition, Lord Eustace had insisted that their rugs be transferred to the chaise so that the women could snuggle into the warmth.

  Lord Eustace politely initiated conversation with his unexpected passengers. Sarah participated little in the resulting exchange. She was content to let her sister have full rein. Margaret was at her chattering best, entertaining and droll by turns. Sarah smiled affectionately as she listened to her sister’s nonsense.

  Lord Eustace addressed them both equally at first, but his remarks became more and more directed to Margaret. He frequently laughed at some inconsequential observation that she made. He had already learned much of their history from Margaret and the reason for their trip to London.

  “I predict that you will be a marked success in your come-out, Miss Margaret,” he said. As though recalling himself, he at once turned toward Sarah and politely added, “And you as well, Miss Sommers.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” said Sarah quietly, smiling. It was obvious to her that she was compared unfavorably with her sister. Beside Margaret’s vivacity she must appear to be rather dull in his lordship’s eyes. It was obvious that her sister had succeeded in captivating his lordship, but Sarah was not made uneasy. She knew that Margaret had not deliberately set herself to do any such thing. Margaret was simply a child-woman. Her enthusiasms, wise and childish by turns, had a way of sparking the interest of others. Margaret had always had a gift for swiftly and easily making friends. Apparently she also had a natural charm of manner that would intrigue the gentlemen.

  “I have seldom fallen into more delightful company,” said Lord Eustace. His tone was warm as he smiled across at Margaret.

  The short miles were soon put behind them and the postchaise turned into the yard of an inn. Lord Eustace helped the ladies down out of the carriage. Sarah thanked him and accepted his arm as he escorted them inside. She was aware of the muscular strength of his forearm under her kid-gloved fingers and she stole a glance up at his handsome profile. It was seldom that she had ever been in such close proximity with a gentleman, especially one of such obvious quality.

  His lordship’s driver and the maid brought in the baggage. Lord Eustace was recognized by the innkeeper, who greeted the gentleman by name and a low bow. Sarah at once felt that she had made a wise decision when she accepted a ride for them in Lord Eustace’s chaise. He was obviously well-known and respectable, not at all the sort to take advantage of two naive country misses. In fact, Sarah was rather ashamed now that such a thought had even crossed her mind, no matter how fleetingly.

  Lord Eustace explained the circumstances that had brought him to the inn. He bespoke a private parlor and refreshment for the ladies. “I imagine that you are both rather chilled,” he commented, smiling at them.

  “Oh, no! We were perfectly comfortable, truly,” said Margaret.

  “Indeed, I do not know when we have enjoyed traveling more,” said Sarah, anxious to add her own expression of gratitude.

  Lord Eustace bowed. Then he inquired of the innkeeper about the hiring of a chaise and the availability of a wheelwright. The innkeeper’s face lengthened and he shook his head. He expressed his regret that there would not be a chaise available until the following day.

  Sarah and Margaret glanced at one another in dismay. “Oh, dear,” murmured Sarah.

  “But that means we shall not be able to go on to London until tomorrow,” said Margaret, stating the obvious.

  “I fear not, miss,” said the innkeeper regretfully. “But I have clean rooms if ye be wishful to stay the night.”

  “I suppose that we have no choice but to do so,” said Sarah. She had already decided to make the best of things. She smiled at the innkeeper. “My sister and I will share a room, sir. Please instruct our maid where we are to be. We should like some dinner as well.”

  “Certainly, miss,” said the innkeeper, rubbing his hands. He bowed and went away.

  Lord Eustace saw that things were well in hand and he prepared to depart. “I am glad that I was able to assist you. Miss Sommers, Miss Margaret. I shall leave you now, but I trust that I shall see you again in the future.”

  “Can you not stay and join us for dinner,” asked Margaret, her smile one of open friendliness.

  Lord Eustace shot a surprised glance at the young lady. “I do not think—”

  Sarah caught her sister’s eye and frowned at her. She shook her head very slightly. “I imagine that Lord Eustace is expected elsewhere, Margaret.”

  Lord Eustace glanced then in her direction. Sarah felt herself coloring under his thoughtful gaze. He smiled slightly and turned again to her sister. “It is quite true. I have an engagement already in the neighborhood that I must not neglect. But with your permission, I shall call upon you at Lady Alverley’s house.”

  “We would like that, my lord,” said Margaret, giving her hand to him. She was almost of a height with him and smiled directly into his eyes.

  Lord Eustace bowed over her fingers, then turned back to Sarah. He smiled down at her. “And I look forward to calling on you also, Miss Sommers.”

  “You will be welcome, my lord. Thank you for your kindness,” said Sarah.

  His lordship bowed. Then just as quickly as he had entered their lives, Lord Eustace was gone.

  The innkeeper returned to show the two young ladies upstairs to their parlor. A roaring fire had been built in the low-hung fireplace and the covers had already been laid on the table for dinner. A connecting door led into a bedroom, where Holby was making down the bed. Sarah and Margaret went into the bedroom to lay aside their pelisses and bonnets and gloves, then returned to the warmth of the parlor.

  Holding her chilled hands out to the cheery flames, Sarah said, “We were indeed fortunate this night, Margaret. If it was not for Lord Eustace coming along just as he did, we might still be standing about in the cold, stamping our feet to stay warm.” She cast a glance toward the window, where heavy wet flakes slapped against the glass. With nightfall the wind had come up so that it rattled the sign outside on the front of the inn and whistled through the trees. “I only hope that John Coachman arrives soon so that he can get out of this weather, too. It is snowing more heavily now.”

  “I know John Coachman will be fine. We did not leave him far behind,” said Margaret complacently, curling up in a chair close beside the fire and tucking her shod feet under her. “Tell me, Sarah, what did you think of Lord Eustace?”

  Sarah sat back on her heels, glancing curiously at her sister. Margaret had propped her pointed chin in the palm of her hand and was gazing into the fire, blinking like a blue-eyed cat. “Why do you ask, Margaret? It is so unlike you to pay heed to any gentleman.”

  “I have not met many gentlemen before, so of course I have not heeded them,” said Margaret reasonably. “But Lord Eustace is the first London gentleman that we have ever seen. I was only wondering if all the rest would be like him. He was so obliging and polite and easy to talk to that I quite forgot to be shy in his company.”

  “His lordship’s manners were very pleasing and his kindness exceeded everything, certainly,” said Sarah.

  “Sarah, do you think that the other gentlemen we meet will be like Lord Eustace?” asked Margaret.

  “I don’t know if all of them will be like Lord Eustace,” said Sarah. “But I certainly hope so, for I thought Lord Eustace to be very well favored.” She smiled at her sister. “Did you like him?”

  Margaret nodded. “Very much! Sarah, do you think that we shall wed this Season?”

  Sarah was startled. She had never heard her sister voice such a question before. Lord Eustace must have made a greater impression on Margaret than she had realized, she thought, almost dismayed. Her sister was so very young and perhaps could be
expected to be impressionable. Obviously Margaret had not the least notion how to relate to any gentlemen outside their own narrow circle of acquaintances. Only see how she had invited Lord Eustace to join them in their private parlor for dinner! Sarah knew herself to be almost entirely unworldly, but she did know enough not to dine alone with an unrelated gentleman.

  Sarah saw that because she was the eldest and perhaps steadier in temperament, it was her duty to look after Margaret. It would not do for Margaret to tumble head-over-heels for some unrespectable, charming rogue who would break her heart.

  “Why, I don’t know, Margaret. I suppose that we might. It all depends upon how we take in society,” said Sarah slowly. She wrinkled her nose a little. “It seems rather vulgar in a way, does it not? We are going up to London to see and to be seen, all in hopes of capturing the hearts of some as yet unknown gentlemen.”

  “If they are anything like Lord Eustace, I shall be content,” said Margaret, shrugging.

  “But what of love, Margaret? Don’t you wish to be swept off your feet by some dashing blade?” Sarah asked teasingly.

  “Well, of course,” said Margaret, blinking in surprise. “That goes without saying. But I am in no hurry to be wed just yet, Sarah. I only meant that I hope that our dearest admirers will be like Lord Eustace.”

  “You relieve my mind. I quite thought for a moment that you had made marriage your only ambition,” said Sarah lightly. Inwardly she was glad to hear that her sister’s aspirations were not firmly set on making a hasty connection.

  Margaret shook her head. “No, indeed. I wish only to enjoy myself this Season. I am far more anxious to spread my wings and see something of the world than I am to acquire a husband. If I do not receive an offer this Season, I shan’t repine. I shall simply ask Grandmama to have me to stay again next Season.”

  “I am very happy to hear it, Margaret. You deserve to enjoy yourself a little before you begin turning your thoughts to such a momentous event,” said Sarah, rising to her feet and going over to a wingback chair. She sank down into its faded cushions with a sigh. “Isn’t it odd! I have been sitting all day long and yet I am too wearied to stand.”

  Margaret disregarded her transition. “But what about you, Sarah? You are already nineteen. Do you not wish to wed this Season?” she asked, regarding her sister with a measure of curiosity.

  “Sometimes I think that I do, but at other times I don’t know,” said Sarah. She smiled at her sister. “Does that sound terribly idiotic of me?”

  “Of course not. I think it just means that you don’t know your own mind yet,” said Margaret with an unconscious wisdom. “But if you do meet a gentleman who suits you, dear Sarah, it will be a different matter altogether, will it not?”

  Sarah laughed and nodded. “Yes, I expect that it will,” she agreed.

  The innkeeper entered the parlor, a waiter coming behind him. Both carried trays with several covered dishes. The ladies rose and went to the table, only too glad to sit down to dinner. The innkeeper had news of their coachman, saying that the man had arrived safely and was at that moment bedding the horses and himself down in the snug stables.

  The dinner consisted of a good soup, a roast fowl, and bread and cheese. After taking their fill, Sarah and Margaret went into the bedroom to make ready for bed. It had been a long day of being jostled about in the coach and they both pronounced themselves too tired to sit up any longer. Their maid attended to them, seeing them both safely in bed, before going over to lie down on her own warm pallet that had been made up against the wall.

  Tired as she was, Sarah did not go immediately to sleep. She kept thinking back to what Margaret had said about finding a gentleman who suited her. Someone like Lord Eustace ... yes, that would be nice. The image of his lordship’s handsome countenance lingered in her mind. At length she fell asleep, a faint smile on her face.

  * * * *

  Breakfast was slices of bread and butter washed down with tepid tea in the public coffee room. Sarah and Margaret then had nothing to do but return upstairs to their room. They amused themselves by looking out their window, which overlooked the innyard, and watch the arrivals and departures of the inn’s custom.

  It was already late in the morning when a chaise was finally available for hire. John Coachman rejected the services of hired postboys and climbed up on the box, pronouncing himself determined to drive so that he could be certain that his charges arrived safely at their destination.

  They were still a few hours away from London, but Sarah and Margaret found that the time passed swiftly enough as they recognized from increasing traffic and the more closely clustered towns and villages that they must be nearing the metropolis at last.

  It was afternoon when they arrived at Alverley House in Upper Claridge Street. The door was opened by a porter attired in green and russet livery. When the porter was told their names, he bowed Sarah and Margaret inside into the wide hall and instructed footmen to bring in their baggage. Their maid was conducted upstairs to their rooms to unpack.

  The butler came out of the nether regions. He was an impressive figure, holding himself with stiff pride, and gazing down his long nose. He ushered the two young ladies into a sitting room off the main hall. “I shall announce your arrival to her ladyship,” he intoned, closing the door behind him.

  Sarah and Margaret looked around at their surroundings with curiosity. They were immediately impressed. Sarah thought that she had never seen a more elegantly furnished room. The richness of the brocaded drapes, the silk-covered settees, the gleam of fine polished wood, the huge gilded mirror above the mantel, all spoke of comfortable wealth. “Goodness, this room looks like something out of a furniture maker’s or haberdasher’s catalogue,” she commented.

  “Grandmama must be frightfully rich,” exclaimed Margaret in awe.

  “Indeed I am, granddaughter,” said an amused voice behind them.

  The sisters whirled. Swift color rose in both their faces, for they had not heard the door open again on its well-oiled hinges, nor been aware of Lady Alverley’s soft-footed entrance.

  Embarrassed, Sarah and Margaret could only stand and stare at the tall, fashionably dressed lady standing on the threshold. Though obviously well past her prime, her ladyship did not appear in the least decrepit. Lady Alverley’s carriage was erect and stately, her gaze sharp and clear.

  Sarah noticed at once that her grandmother was taller than she herself was. She glanced at her sister, reflecting that here was where Margaret had inherited her height.

  Lady Alverley came forward with outstretched hands. There were several glittering rings on her gnarled fingers and bracelets encircled her thin blue-veined wrists. A costly Cashmere shawl with deep fringes was looped over her sleeved elbows. “Well, my dears, you have arrived at last. I expected you yesterday, but never mind. I am happy to have you here. You may kiss me.”

  Sarah reached up to obediently kiss her grandmother’s powdered cheek. A faint hint of rose scent clung to Lady Alverley’s person. Her ladyship had appeared very grand, very elegant, at a distance. Sarah realized now that much of her impression of youthful preservation was due to an artful application of cosmetics on Lady Alverley’s part. Lady Alverley not only wore rouge and powder, but also darkened her lashes. Her ladyship’s hair was a suspicious yellow tint. Sarah’s vision of what she thought a grandmother should look like faded away forever. “I am glad to see you. How are you, Grandmama?”

  “Very well, my dear... Sarah, is it? Yes, of course. I recall now that you were always a little dab of a thing. You take after your mother.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. You could not have complimented me more highly,” said Sarah, smiling. She drew back a little to allow her sister to greet their grandmother.

  “And so this must be Margaret! What a lovely girl you are! My dear Margaret, welcome,” said Lady Alverley, also accepting Margaret’s kiss. She held on to the younger girl’s gloved hand and looked her up and down. “Yes, I can see your mother in you, too. B
ut you take after me in inches.”

  “You are beautiful, Grandmama,” blurted Margaret, gazing at Lady Alverley with an awestruck expression.

  “We shall get along splendidly, I see,” said Lady Alverley, bestowing a gracious smile on her younger granddaughter. She drew Margaret’s arm through her own and patted it. “Now, come sit down. I have instructed Herbert to bring in tea and you shall tell me all about yourselves.” Lady Alverley and Margaret sat down on a settee together and her ladyship nodded for Sarah, who had followed them across the room, to sit opposite in a wingback chair.

  “We do appreciate your kind invitation to stay with you during the Season,” said Sarah, setting aside her muff and beginning to pull off her kid gloves.

  “Oh, yes! It was so vastly exciting when Papa informed us of it. I could scarcely wait to come,” said Margaret enthusiastically, also divesting herself of her gloves. “I am so looking forward to the Season. I hope that there will be a great many parties to attend.”

  “I can promise you that there will be,” said Lady Alverley. She looked around as the door opened and the butler entered, bearing a tray. “Ah, here is Herbert with our tea! You may set it on the table here, Herbert. I shall ring if I require anything else.”

  “Of course, my lady,” said the butler, setting out plates of biscuits and tiny cress sandwiches and plum cake, a teapot and cups, the cream and sugar. He bowed as he left again.

  Lady Alverley asked Sarah to pour the tea and she watched Sarah with an eagle eye while she did so. Lady Alverley nodded her approval. “You do that very well, Sarah. I commend whoever taught you the finer points of etiquette. I know that it was not your mother, for she died before you were of an age to be instructed in such things.”

  “That would be our governess, Miss Spoonsby,” said Sarah quietly, handing tea to Lady Alverley and to her sister before she picked up her own.