Mary Jo Putney (16 page)

W
earily Sarah made her way down to the study. She was still wearing the heavy velvet riding habit since she’d not had time to change.

The dismal study hadn’t improved since Sarah saw it earlier, but Rob was always a pleasant sight, even when frowning at a column of figures. In the lamplight, his features were handsome and austere. In Ireland, she’d seen his physical strength and mastery. Here, she saw his intelligence and discipline.

Then he looked up and smiled and she saw his warmth. “How is she?”

“Settling in well, though this is all so strange for her. Bree is intelligent and adaptable, and she very much wants a home.” Sarah sat in a chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Have you found anything interesting in your father’s papers?”

“It’s all routine information relating to the estate. Since he lived mostly in London, the more important papers would be kept there. Not that I expect to find much of anything except debts.” Rob sighed. “I suppose I must travel up to town and go through Kellington House before I put it on the market. When I attend Parliament, I can stay in my flat near Covent Garden.” He smiled a little. “I’ll be the only member of the House of Lords who lives over a pawnshop.”

Sarah laughed, glad Rob was beginning to accept his fate with some humor. “I can see you intend to put your own mark on the earldom.”

“I haven’t spent my life in a pampered cocoon like most lords. They’re stuck with me.” He rose and moved to a cabinet. “Would you like something to drink? There’s a good variety here. Brandy, port, claret, sherry . . .”

“Claret would be lovely. Anything stronger and I’ll fall asleep on your desk.”

Rob poured a generous amount of wine in two goblets and offered one to Sarah. “Shall we drink to our survival? When I have time to think about it, I’m impressed that we didn’t drown.”

“To survival.” They clinked glasses. After they drank, Sarah added, “And to a future for you that is better than what you’re expecting now.”

They both drank to that. Rob swallowed half the glass of claret, then topped it up and sat down. “Did you find out anything about Bree’s earlier life? About her mother?”

“She said they lived in a cottage down the coast and were happy. Bryony sent her to a dame school so she should have the basics of reading and writing.” Sarah smiled ruefully. “But she’ll need a tutor to correct the accent and language she learned from her horrid grandfather. She called your grandmother an old bawd.”

Rob laughed out loud. “I wish I dared tell the dowager that! I’m glad the money my father paid Bryony to go away was enough to keep them in comfort.”

“Bree said her mother knew your family wouldn’t permit marriage, which was why she took the money. When you disappeared, Bryony suspected that your brother had murdered you.”

Rob closed his eyes for a long moment. “I’m glad Bryony didn’t think I’d betrayed her. Knowing she might believe that haunted me.”

Sarah could imagine. “Bryony must have been very beautiful to have such a beautiful daughter.”

“They look very alike, except for the eyes. To see her is to know what Bryony was like at that age.” Rob’s expression softened. “Sarah, it’s a miracle. I never guessed what it would be like to discover I have a child. It’s . . . life changing.” He swirled his goblet, studying the ruby red wine. “Bree gives me a reason to look forward to the future with hope, not fatigue.”

His words gave Sarah a better understanding of just how deeply he’d loved Bryony. Though she was gone, the child they’d conceived in love meant that Bryony wasn’t completely lost. Bree gave him a reason to carry on.

“I’m glad for you both,” she said simply. “Though Lady Kellington has a point. You do need to marry an heiress, and you’ll have to find one who is tolerant of having an illegitimate stepdaughter in the household. But that’s not an insurmountable problem. You’re handsome and honorable and there’s the title. A sufficiently dowered merchant’s daughter will go a long way to repairing the Kellington fortunes.”

“No!” Rob’s exclamation was explosive.

“Surely you’re not a snob!” Sarah said, startled. “Your chances of securing an heiress are far better if you look to the merchant class rather than the beau monde.”

His face tightened. “I’m not rejecting merchants’ daughters. I’m rejecting the whole idea of becoming a fortune hunter. I’m losing the life I built for myself. I’m not going to give up my right to choose my own bedmates.”

Sarah blinked. “Plural? That will not sit well with most potential wives.”

His expression eased. “I’ve never wanted a harem. One woman at a time is more than enough. But I want to choose a wife because I like her.”

Like, not love. No woman could ever hold the place in his heart where Bryony lived. “Surely you can find a woman who is like that good companion you lost, only with money.”

“It’s true that I no longer need a woman who is adept at spying and can take down a man twice her size in a fight,” he said dryly. “But I haven’t had a chance to think much about a potential countess.”

“Maybe it’s time,” Sarah said briskly. “Because the right wife could save Kellington and make your life much easier.”

“I know you’re right,” he said with a sigh. He poured himself more claret. “I suppose my ideal countess would be a capable woman who can run a large household and move comfortably in society. Someone with a generous heart, but not extravagant tastes. And someone I like, of course.”

“It should be possible to find a woman like that who comes with a fortune.” Sarah sipped more of her own wine. Useful things, drinks, for covering up emotions. “You have much to offer.”

He snorted. “I can’t imagine why an heiress would want me apart from the title. I have a shabby imitation castle, an illegitimate daughter, and horrendous and possibly insoluble financial problems. Any sensible female would run screaming.”

Sarah considered herself sensible, but she’d be willing to consider an offer from him. She wasn’t sure she’d accept, but she’d certainly consider. So would any intelligent female. But after Rob had time to think about his situation, the idea of marrying an heiress would sound more appealing. Of course they should like each other, but having money didn’t make a female unlikable.

Not wanting to think about the lucky, likable heiress, she said, “The financial situation might not be as dire as you fear.”

“It’s more likely to be worse than better,” he said pessimistically. “Since I wasn’t the heir and was estranged from my family, I’m ignorant of the most basic information. I don’t know which properties are entailed and which aren’t. Any unentailed property is probably mortgaged to the hilt and ripe for foreclosure. Entailed property can’t be foreclosed on, but the income can be seized, which would leave nothing but an empty, meaningless title. I just have no idea.”

“I assume there’s a London house. They aren’t usually entailed, are they?”

“No, but Kellington House is probably mortgaged. It’s on the top of my list of things to sell. I’ve scarcely ever seen the place, though I remember it as rather grand.”

“The uncertainty of your financial situation must be driving you mad,” she said sympathetically. “Once you know where you stand, you’ll start finding solutions. I’d lay money that you wrote the family lawyer this morning.”

“You’d win your bet.” He ran tense fingers through his hair. “I suppose I need to go up to town to talk with the lawyer in person. If Ashton hasn’t arrived or at least sent a carriage, I can deliver you to Ralston Abbey on the way. Maybe two days from now? There is much to be done here before I leave.”

Sarah felt as if she’d been thrown from a horse and she couldn’t breathe, and not just because she felt like an inconvenient parcel that needed to be delivered. So her adventure was over. She’d no longer be able to talk and laugh with Rob, or admire that long, lean, powerful body. She’d probably meet him again someday, but she wasn’t part of his real life. She never had been.

A thought struck her. “Bree will need a woman to care for her and about her. I’d suggest your housemaid, Francie, Jonas’s cousin. She’s kind and clever, and she’s done a good job of looking after me. We already discussed bringing in a seamstress from the village to make a basic wardrobe.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. Bree is too old for a nursery maid, and a governess will have to wait.” He shook his head. “I’ll do my best to be a good father, but I can’t begin to guess how to be a good mother.”

“Still another reason to marry,” she said, keeping her tone light. “I’ll be glad to get back to my family, but I’ll miss you and all the excitement.”

His gaze caught hers. “Don’t confuse me with the excitement, Sarah. It was a grand adventure that we both miraculously survived. But I’m not particularly interesting myself. I just do some interesting things.” He made a face. “At least, I used to. My life is about to become much less interesting.”

“Paperwork will be dull after years spent catching villains and rescuing damsels in distress,” she agreed as she struggled to control her sense of hurt. She’d thought there was something special between them. A friendship as well as an attraction. But maybe he was like this with all his rescued damsels.

Her instincts said no, and a touch of deviltry made her want to prove it. She set her glass of claret aside and circled the desk to where he was sitting. “I found this quite interesting.” She cupped his face with her hands and bent into a kiss.

They’d kissed before, but with doubt and hesitation. This time she held nothing back. Only her hands and mouth touched him, but her lips were hot and hungry and it triggered an instant response. His arms went around her and he pulled her down so that she was straddling his knee, her breasts pressed into his chest and folds of green velvet cascading around them.

“Sarah, Sarah,” he breathed. “A perfect princess.”

One hand slid down her back, shaping her curves and leaving trails of fire in its wake as he pulled her even closer. The fingers of his other hand slid into her hair, loosening the pins and cradling her head tenderly.

She’d experienced the intoxicating dawn of desire with Gerald, and she’d known a few sweet kisses in the years since. But they were nothing compared to the deep, powerful passion Rob aroused. The two of them might not love, but they could easily be friends and lovers.

She wanted to devour him, surrender every shred of propriety. They were pressed together so intimately that his heat and hardness burned through the layers of green velvet. She pulsed against him, wanting more. Wanting everything.

She gasped as his hand slid up her leg under the skirt. His touch was leisurely and skilled. When his fingers caressed the inside of her thigh, she thought she’d go mad with desire. Surely they could meld....

He froze when he heard her gasp. Then he abruptly stood, catching her so that she didn’t fall and setting her on the edge of the desk as he backed away. “This is a really, really bad idea,” he panted.

She pressed a hand to her heaving chest, seriously tempted to pick up the chair and smash it over his stubborn head. But as her blood cooled, she had to admit his point. “You’re probably right. But I wonder—is this much attraction rare? I’ve not experienced it before, but then, I don’t have much experience.”

“It’s not common.” He closed his eyes a moment as he mastered himself.

She sighed. “It seems a pity for us to waste it, since passion is considered a good foundation for marriage.”

He looked at her uncertainly, as if wondering whether she was making an oblique proposal. Apparently deciding that she wasn’t, he said, “Passion is certainly a plus, but not the foundation. Friendship and shared values are the foundation, I think. Along with a willingness to work together.” He smiled wryly. “But what would I know? I’ve never been married. I’m a mere observer.”

“But a very good observer, since observation is so important to your work.” She slid from the desk to the floor and tried to brush down her hair and riding habit. “It has been a most educational fortnight, but I’ve had as much education as I can stand for one day. Good night, Rob.”

Head high, she strode to the door. Perhaps she’d been foolish to initiate that kiss, because it would make leaving him that much more difficult. Yet she didn’t regret it.

But it didn’t seem fair that since Gerald’s death she hadn’t met a man she could imagine being married to. Now she’d met one—and she couldn’t have him.

 

 

Rob stayed in the study long after Sarah left, staring sightlessly at her half-empty claret goblet. He’d inherited a title and a financial disaster and discovered a miraculous daughter. But at the moment, all he could think about was Sarah, and how much he’d miss her when she was gone. Hard to imagine that he could do better if he was looking for a life’s companion.

Earlier, he’d been unable to imagine her living in a flat above a pawnshop, and now he couldn’t imagine dragging her into the financial morass that was his inheritance. She deserved a husband who could dote on her and keep her in comfort. What attention he could spare should go to his vulnerable young daughter. He was in no position to take on a wife. If he did look, it should be for an heiress.

The idea made his stomach turn.

Sarah’s advice was wise: the first thing he must do was determine how dire his situation was. He was good at solving problems once he knew what they were.

He wouldn’t think about a wife. Especially not one who was beautiful and sunny and sensible and made his mind shut down altogether . . .

Swearing to himself, he turned off the lamps and left the study. It was late and he was too tired to continue looking at estate papers.

When he reached his room, he noticed light under a door down the hall. It was his grandmother’s suite of rooms. She’d always been a night owl. Since he’d have to talk with her eventually, maybe he should get it over with.