Ross groaned, thinking of the social chaos that lay ahead. "Coward."
"True." His friend gave him a seraphic smile. "But it is also true that my absence will simplify the situation. When I call on Sara in the morning, I'll be discreet about it."
"I'll turn everything over to Mother. She'll have all of the houseguests gone by noon tomorrow, and thinking themselves privileged to be the objects of her solicitude."
Peregrine brushed his coat, restoring superficial neatness. "Am I forgiven my transgressions. Not the ones against Sara, but against you?"
Ross's mouth quirked. "Does my good opinion matter to you?"
Peregrine considered. "It seems to."
Ross smiled reluctantly and got to his feet. "Then I suppose you're forgiven. But next time, why not just speak up rather than crashing around like a Greek Fury?"
"What a novel thought. It sounds quite boring." Peregrine flashed a brief smile, then left the library.
Ross sank back into the sofa, not yet ready to face he world outside. Thank God his mother was here to smooth things over. Though it had seemed unfortunate at the time, he was glad that a flare-up of gout had prevented his father from making the trip. No sense in upsetting the old boy unnecessarily.
Briefly he considered going to Sara's room to see how she was, but he discarded the idea. She had been quite emphatic about being left alone, and they had always respected each other's privacy.
He tried to imagine Sara married to his friend. On the face of it, the idea was ridiculous, but perhaps it might work. If anyone could break a wild hawk like Peregrine to the hand, it would be Sara. In her gentle way, she was every bit as stubborn as he was.
Thinking back, Ross realized that Sara had subtly changed since meeting Peregrine. As a girl, she had been full of bright laughter, until the accident that had nearly taken her life. It had taken discipline and indomitable will to survive and learn to walk again, and somewhere along the way, Sara had lost her capacity for joy.
Perhaps, with Peregrine, she might find it again.
Chapter 12
Sara managed to reach her bedroom without being observed by other guests, dismissing her maid with the comment that she was suffering from a touch of the headache and wanted to retire early. Finally alone, she sank into the deep wing chair, drawing her leg up and pulling her dressing gown tight in a vain at tempt to warm her chilled soul.
She had the weak shakiness common after a dangerous near-accident, and when her eyes closed, she saw horrified faces staring at her. She heard Charles's furious condemnation, and flinched away from her father's anger and disappointment.
But mostly she saw Peregrine, handsome as the devil and just as untrustworthy. He had not been surprised when they were discovered. Sara had sensed some other emotion, perhaps excitement or satisfaction, but definitely not surprise.
She had known instantly, with a certainty beyond logic, that Peregrine had arranged the interruption. Ross had looked guilty and furious as well as shocked, but it had not been Sara he was angry with. Probably Peregrine had made him an involuntary accomplice. He would never knowingly have done anything to humiliate her.
But why in the name of heaven would Peregrine do such a thing? She couldn't believe that he would stoop to ruining her from casual malice. While it would be flattering to think that he was madly in love with her and had arranged the scene as a desperate bid t win her, Sara didn't believe it. Peregrine had been far more surprised by his impulsive proposal than he had been by being caught kissing her.
Having made the offer, he was prepared to stand by it. But why? And God help her, what was Sara to do? While she had been attracted to him from the first, she had believed that marriage was out of the question. That had been a sorrowful thought, but it was one that she had understood and accepted.
Yet now the prince was hers for the taking, and the choice she faced was the most difficult of her life. Deciding to accept Charles had been easy by comparison, for she had had a fair idea of what marrying him would mean. But what on earth would marriage to her wild Kafir be like? Impossible to imagine.
She rubbed her temples despairingly, her fingers raking through her thick hair as she wondered what had become of the sensible person Sara St. James used to be. When she was with Peregrine, she became a different woman, one that she had trouble recognizing and didn't much approve of. She had never felt so alive in her life as in his presence, yet to marry him would surely be disastrous.
Hoping to break the circle of unprofitable thoughts before she gave herself a genuine headache, Sara wrote a short note to Eliza Weldon. After several attempts to explain, Sara settled on the simple statement that she would not be marrying Eliza's father because they had decided that they would not suit.