Chapter Four
After two days in her aunt’s house, Sara had arrived at three conclusions. One, the viscount never showed his face unless it was mealtime. Two, her aunt had more money than she knew what to do with. And three, there was absolutely nothing to do in this God forsaken house. She asked if she could go for a walk, but apparently proper young ladies did not walk about unchaperoned.
Not that her parents had minded in the least that Sara went for walks on a regular basis. In hindsight, it was probably in hopes that someone would kidnap her and relieve them of the burden of having to feed an extra mouth.
Negativity really wasn’t her forte, but being as bored as she was, she couldn’t help it. Her aunt hadn’t any books either! What was one to do? Sit and sew? She would probably poke an eye out. Her parents hadn’t wasted any time or effort on her education. Everything she knew was from watching her sisters’ lessons and reading. All in all she was self-taught. She had no talent to speak of, therefore had no music to practice or pictures to draw. The only highlights of her country life had been daydreaming in the fields, walking, and writing her own stories—all of which, according to aunt, were unacceptable.
She let out a long sigh as she slowly descended the stairs, hoping to pass away time with her methodic walking. This day was to be the beginning of her high society training with the mysterious cousin. All morning her aunt drilled her on the finer points of how to walk with her head held high, smile behind a fan, eat with the right utensils, and curtsy like a courtesan. She would inevitably explode from sheer tedium. What she wouldn’t give for a field to run barefoot in and a novel to keep her warm at night. She felt incomplete without the written word; although, it was good for her to study Scripture more lately. It was like a balm to her wounded soul, especially considering the events of the previous night. How she had managed to get herself in that predicament was beyond her. She had already been compromised after her first night! If her aunt ever caught wind of the incident, she would be furious!
Just then, her aunt’s booming voice echoed through the hall, mingling with the unmistakable low voice of a man, which sounded like warm honey. It was deep and velvet. Just listening to it felt like a caress to her heart. She braced herself for their meeting, knowing that one look at her and any man with such a voice would most likely flee, or worse—he would pity her.
***
Nicholas was having a difficult time recalling exactly how he had gotten himself into such an unsavory situation while climbing the stairs to Lady Fenton’s door. His cousin had a way of pulling favors from anyone which made even the strongest of men bow to requests. In this case, however, she didn’t hold a favor over his head. It was her mere presence reminding him of the past, and her honest solemn plea for his help, making it impossible for him to deny her the favor. She needed a gentleman who would know the ton well enough to coach her young protégé, but who was also wise enough not to touch her.
Lady Fenton provoked him enough to accept, but now he also felt challenged. She had the audacity to warn him not to touch the girl, as if he would actually fall to woman’s feet just because she was attractive, or as his cousin put it earlier today: devastating—whatever that meant.
Lady Fenton’s old steward met him at the door and announced his arrival to the woman of the house, who sashayed briskly into the hall and offered her hand in greeting. Nicholas kissed it perfunctorily. “You look radiant as always, cousin,” he crooned.
“Thank you, my dear. I see your eyesight hasn’t improved. We will set up in the drawing room. I believe my niece is waiting there for us. Will you follow me?”
They made their way to the first floor drawing room. Lady Fenton spoke interminable of her plans for the girl’s debut. He shook his head as his cousin went on and on. Did women never tire of such sport?
She led him into the drawing room.
He froze and stopped breathing all at once; it felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. He took one look at the girl and, for old times’ sake, swore under his breath. He immediately asked for forgiveness in his heart as his eyes caressed the girl sitting before him.
She seemed tense, almost as if bracing for some sort of impact. Well, I would probably behave the same way living in this mad woman’s house, he thought. Then he stole another look at her.
It couldn’t be.
No.
But it was.
Hell. He was in his own personal Hell. Only this time there was no escape, because sitting in front of him was the same girl he had mauled in the hallway the night before. And by the look in her eyes, she recognized him, too. A deep blush swept from her chest all the way up that neck his fingers had burned to touch. Yes, God was punishing him and doing a thorough job.