The Fancy (38 page)

Quinton was seated across from her,

sandwiched between Lord Harry, and Lady Gwyneth;

while she was between Lord Harry’s wife, Lady Beryl

and Lord Ashley whose eyes were forever peering

down at her cleavage.

As Sarah sat enjoying her meal, she

remembered the many things Lena had taught her

for such occasions,
make eye contact; don’t overdo

it on smiling, giggling or laughing out loud, you

won’t be taken seriously. When someone poses a

question, wait until you are ready to answer, and

then look them in the eyes to give it, no need to be

eager to impress, nor show yourself as being one

needy for acceptance
.
Give less, they’ll want more.

Always let the other ladies who show themselves

desperate, to move before you, withdraw – or even

disappear – you must arouse the mystery that

surrounds you, you – only you can control how

much they long for - but never give them enough…

never.

“Lady Sarah, it has been said, during the

epidemic you were ever present, working with many

of the doctors – how is it that a Lady as yourself

would possibly find the time to learn matters most

often found with men?”

She was in the middle of cutting into her tender

veal; she completed the cut, placed it delicately into

her mouth, chewed it, swal owed it, sipped her wine

and then turned dazzling eyes that looked right into

his, “My time is precious, I do not occupy it with

frivolity.” She gave a slight smile, a nod and turned

back to her dinner.

He grinned, then chuckled with a lifted brow,

remembering that her husband sat directly across,

and of course looked up to see that his eyes were

piercing him through; trying to make smal talk, “What

more is there for a woman to do, but things of

frivolity?” He asked the men, bringing forth chuckles

from others.

“Needles, stitching, the next fashion, powders

and…” He turned back to look at her skin, the glow

of it, the luster and felt himself stirring, he would love

to smel her, there was just a gentle scent that wafted

his way when she shifted or turned; he could think of

nothing more thril ing than to bury his nose between

her plump breasts, he swal owed continuing, “… the

way one smel s, how soft the skin.” He tried to play it

way one smel s, how soft the skin.” He tried to play it

off, but his pal or told on him, as wel his wandering

eye.

Once more - slowly, Sarah responded.

“Is this a query? Or your belief? The way in

which a woman should be? I suppose there is a

basis for your theory. As for me, I find frivolity, a

bore.” Having said that, she went back to her meal

and suddenly felt the need to look up, and did; her

husband’s eyes were hooded from others, but clear

to her – jealousy? Surely not, she offered him a

simple smile, no more than she would do any other

man – and that made him blush. One of the Ladies

present was asking her a question; she turned to

her, giving her more ful attention than she had Lord

Ashley. With each course served, she found no end

to various ones picking and testing her mettle.

She passed al with flying colors, answering

each person differently depending on who asked

and their motives for doing so. It didn’t take too many

questions for those nearby to learn, that not only was

she clever, of quick wit, contemplative and educated,

but she was no sil y, vacant minded simpering twit.

Her conduct and etiquette, along with her carriage

and beauty was impeccable which turned on the

curiosity and lusts of two men, besides Lord Ashley

and one woman.

After dinner came the dancing, that is when she

had the time of her life. More than a few dances

were with her husband, who was reluctant to leave

her to dance with others, but of course, he had little

choice, how would it look? Unfortunately for him,

more than a few men wished to dance with her, and

she knew that it was a big no-no to repeat a dance

with any man other than her husband.

Therefore, when Lord Ashley dare approach

her for a second dance, Quinton control ed himself

as an English gentleman; however, his glare to the

other man was clear, he was treading on dangerous

territory. However with so many present wishing to

speak with Quinton, he found that he and Sarah were

apart more than he cared to be. As the night

progressed, Lord Ashley’s drinking led him astray as

he began fol owing Sarah until she could not bear to

be there any longer and went to Quinton with a plea

to leave.

Immediately knowing the reason, he walked up

to Lord Ashley and slapped him across the face

cal ing him out. What he had wanted to do was

punch him in the mouth – but that was not dignified.

“Pistols, Lord Ashley - at dawn, the hour of six –

Griggly Square, beyond the east gate; I’l be waiting.”

Quinton turned from him, strode to his wife, took her

arm and hustled her from the bal to get their wraps

before leaving.

In the carriage, “My wish to leave should have

been the end of it, a duel? Did I not handle myself

correctly?” Sarah fretted.

“You handled yourself perfectly fine – however it

does not repair my honor! He deliberately stepped

beyond what was appropriate and I wil not al ow it.”

“I hope he doesn’t show.” Sarah worried out

loud.

“That would be a wise decision, however – I wil

be there.”

“May I go with you?”

“No!”

She made the tiniest of sound in protest, and

he lit into her. “And you, you fitted right in didn’t you!?

Couldn’t tel I’d spent the better part of a year

coaching you, teaching, training you. No sir, you

dazzled them al , with your bosom heaving high,

cal ing to al the men to look at what wonders might

be found beneath!”

“My bosom was no more exposed than any

other, in fact, Lady Jayne’s nipples were in danger of

peeping over the top, in fact, I believe they did – so

my bosom showing was tame in comparison to

some others.”

Quinton looked up first right, then left, as if there

was someone other than them in the coach on the

way home. “You’re arguing with me?”

“Simply stating fact.”

“Fact! What would you know of fiction over

fact.” He snapped; irritated. He hadn’t known that

he’d held such a strong possessive and jealous

streak until he saw the way that men looked at her.

Saw the way she handled herself, which only made

them want her more. He regretted bringing her to the

bal , muttering out loud, “Damn frivolous, nonsense,

bal s! That wil be the last we attend. I could see it

clear as day, their mouths drooling for the chance to

trap you in a corner – wondering at the feel of your

skin, the fragrance you’d emit – the mystery of your

charms, what would it be like to kiss you.”

Sarah lowered her eyes demurely, trying to

keep the smile that crossed her lips from showing.

“You liked it, didn’t you, to have men lusting

after you?” He’d had a bit too much to drink himself.

His mouth was running with the thoughts that

fil ed his head, “Saw more than a few, fighting to

drag their eyes from you, the way you walked –

spoke – teased… ah yes, you did, you teased, you

so much as said – look – want – but you wil not

have.”

“If that is the case, you should feel good – don’t

forget, you married and made a lady, from a fancy – I

was bred to ignite the desires of men – yet – I am

yours, never wishing to be anywhere, or with anyone,

but you. What is your issue?”

Before she could blink, he reached over and

snatched her onto his lap, “You wil not use words of

cunning with me! I taught you to speak that way!

Remember? My issue, is that any would dare stand

before me, salivating over what is mine, mine

remember? I’m the one who pul ed you from the

bowels of a ship surrounded by dead rats.”

Sarah thrust her nose into the air, “I wil survive

wherever I am tossed – toss me now, be rid of me if

you wil – I wil survive. But if you are to have me,

keep me, be a man and handle what you have – or

let me go.”

He growled once more, “Not – on – your - life!

And you wil never flirt with others before me, do you

hear?”

She had not been flirting, but she would not

argue her case, he was fil ed with alcohol and his

grip on her arms hurt, “Quinton, I carry your child,

what man would want me, ful with another mans

seed?”

“A man who does not wish to plant his own –

and you –
are
that beautiful.”

She sighed, and sank down against him, giving

him little choice but to release her arms in order to

fold his own about her.

“I am in love with you, so much so it is sheer

madness, mix that with alcohol – it is not a good

thing.” He admitted, kissing her brow.

“No, it is not. I wil never betray you Quinton, not

ever – surely you must know that by now.”

“I – I miss – when it was just – you and I – things

were – wonderful then.”

“And they are not wonderful now?” She moved

her head back on his shoulder to ask, looking

through the darkness for the glint of his eyes.

“I want you al to myself again, just for me.

Everything you once did was for me.”

She reached up and caressed the skin of his

cheek, “Everything I do now, is for you, Quinton – that

has never ceased to be.” She whispered

passionately.

He pul ed her up to meet his lips on the way

down, they held on tightly, their mouths fused – their

tongues twirling, the beating of their hearts heavier,

more rapid as one gave, the other took to be

repeated back the other way.

Back home at WhistHirst, the two went

immediately to their bedroom, closing themselves

away from al – to take just the night to remind

husband, wife what they were to each other.

At dawn, Quinton left for his appointment with

Lord Ashley. He was there early, with his pistols, in

attendance to him was Hayden, who shook his head,

stating simply, “If you are shot this day, and kil ed –

you do know that many wil be here in hopes to take

your place to win her?”

“And in which position in the queue wil you

stand?” Quinton asked, holding the pistol before him,

imagining his posture, his aim – his target.

Hayden did not speak at first, he swal owed

and looked away, and then, as if an admission said

simply, “She is hard to resist – I am no less a man

than thee – I too have dreams, and wish – aye, I had

been so lucky. I have not dishonored our friendship,

as I would not dishonor her.”

“Good, see that you don’t, and if your

temptations override your good sense, do as my

brother has done,
leave
.” Quinton said simply. He

did not look his way, but pul ed his pocket watch to

view the time.

The hour was almost at seven – he sneered,

“Coward! I should have known.” However he waited

an extra thirty minutes just in case – until suddenly.

an extra thirty minutes just in case – until suddenly.

“Quinton! Enough – he is not coming!” He

heard his wife cal , she was tired of waiting so she

marched out of the woods from her hiding place,

holding in hand a bow and arrow.

He stood staring, in complete disbelief and

then roared into laughter, loud and long rushing

towards her as she made her way over some of the

tal grass to get to him. “Lady Caine, I distinctly

remember tel ing you no!” Because of his laughter,

she could not take him seriously?

“What no? Since when have I heard no? You

think I would let anyone take you from me? Gots t’do

m’bit, I’on take care’o’you, who gone take

care’o’me?” It choked her up to say it, and doubly so

him, for hearing it.

He grabbed her, held her, kissed her, taking

the bow and arrow from her to hold. Grasping her

head, his lips to her brow, he murmured low, “I’l take

care of you Suga, til the day I’m dying.”