Escaping the Earl, page 4
The man chuckled. “Thank you. The little mite is adorable, isn’t she?” Sabrina wasn’t used to such a handsome man looking at her like that, but she didn’t sense that he meant her harm. Certainly not with such a precious thing in tow. He reminded her of the mystery man at the ball, but that man had golden-amber eyes and dark hair. Still, this man did make her feel that same sense of safety, which made no sense given that both this man and the one from the ball were strangers. She had no reason to trust strangers.
“All right, Isla, time for supper and then to bed with you.”
“Must I, Papa?” The child pouted, which only made him laugh.
“One cannot conquer the world without a decent night’s sleep. Isn’t that right?” the man asked Sabrina the last question.
“What? Oh yes, your papa is right. Sleep is most important. Besides, the sooner you sleep, the sooner you’ll be able to wake up.”
The child seemed to take this into consideration and finally acquiesced. “Very well.”
“Good night,” he said to Sabrina, then mouthed a thank you before taking his girl inside.
The stew that arrived a few minutes later left much to be desired, and occasionally she would encounter something questionable with her spoon lurking in the murky depths of the bowl. But it didn’t taste completely inedible, so she consumed of as much of it as she could. The single piece of bread was stale, but she used it to mop up bits of the stew.
She was still fairly hungry and decided to go down to see if they had anything else aside from stew. When she opened her door, the barmaid she’d met earlier was coming up the stairs with a plate of what looked like roast duck and potatoes, the sight of which made Sabrina’s mouth water. She stopped in front of the room across the hall, and the man opened the door. “’Ere you are, my lord,” the maid cooed. “Special, like you asked.”
“Thank you, Mary. I am most grateful.” He pressed a kiss to the hand of the maid, who turned scarlet.
“Excuse me, miss, can I order some of the duck as well?” Sabrina ventured. She didn’t have much money left to spend on such a meal, but it looked too good and she was too hungry to pass it up.
The maid shot her an exasperated look. “Sorry, miss, this one is special.”
“But that gentleman was able to—”
“I said it’s special.” The maid raised her nose at Sabrina before turning back to smile at the blond-haired man.
“Have a good night, Mary,” he purred at the girl, who all but fainted before taking herself back downstairs. Sabrina looked longingly at the duck the man held on his plate.
“How did you convince her to give you that?”
The man grinned. “Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that.” He winked at her and started to turn away before he stopped, sighed, and looked over at Sabrina. “Would you care to join me and my daughter? There is plenty to share.”
Sabrina knew it was not a good idea to say yes, but she was tired, hungry, and still rattled from all that had happened in the last few days.
“Oh, I shouldn’t . . .”
“Nonsense. I can hear your stomach growling from here. Come inside, Miss . . .”
“Talleyrand. Sabrina Talleyrand.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Rafe Lennox, and you’ve met my little Isla.”
“Hello!” Isla piped up with a rosy-cheeked smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” She grinned at the adorable little girl as she followed Rafe into his chamber. He set the plate of roast duck down on the table, and soon the three of them were sharing a meal. She had expected Rafe to try to make some small talk, but he seemed to enjoy eating his dinner and watching his daughter in pleasant silence.
When there was no more to share, Sabrina stood and tried to offer him a few shillings.
“Please, I shall take no money, considering how I acquired the duck. It’s only fitting I should share the bounty.”
“Well, I thank you again, Mr. Lennox.” She started back toward her room.
“Miss Talleyrand, where are you bound for, if you do not mind me asking?”
“Honestly, I am not entirely sure.” She didn’t mean to let herself sound so broken, but he clearly heard it in her voice.
Rafe’s blue eyes seemed to glow. “Are you all right?”
“Perhaps I will be someday.” She couldn’t muster up the strength to put on a brave face.
“Do you have enough money to get by for now, Miss Talleyrand?”
She nodded, a pit forming in her stomach as she saw pity in his eyes.
“Well, Isla and I are bound for London. If you find yourself there and in need of assistance, you may find us on Half Moon Street, the house with the bright-blue door. You can’t miss it.”
“Why would you offer to help me? You do not know me.”
His eyes softened, and he glanced at the child, who had somehow fallen asleep on her bed during their discussion.
“I have become more aware of the importance of helping those in need since I found Isla.”
“Found?” Sabrina asked.
“Yes. She’s an orphan I found in Edinburgh recently. I’ve taken her in as my ward, and now she is my child.”
“Do you have a wife, or a governess for her?” Sabrina asked.
“I have neither. I know . . .” He laughed. “A bachelor raising a mite like her. But so far it has suited me and the child quite well.”
“It is rather wonderful,” she admitted. “To love a child who does not come from your blood.”
“Not everyone shares that opinion.”
Sabrina moved toward her room. “The world would be a better place if more did. Good night, Mr. Lennox.”
“Good night, Miss Talleyrand.” His voice was deep and smooth, not quite like the whiskey-rough voice of the handsome, tawny-eyed stranger from Lady Germain’s ball, but she wished in that moment it was the man from the ball she’d run into in the hall. But that was only something that happened in fairy tales.
She closed the door and removed her gown before climbing into the small, cold bed and falling asleep. But her dreams were filled with glittering memories of waltzing with her mysterious stranger and making love beneath the stars.
5
Sabrina cursed softly as she studied her meager breakfast at the table down in the taproom of the inn. She had slept poorly the night before but had assured herself that anyone would have been unsettled by the strange, cold room.
The bread was even more stale this morning, hard enough to crack her teeth, and the flavorless porridge was somehow even less edible. She forced herself to eat as she debated where she was to go. London would provide more opportunities for work, but it would also be far more dangerous.
As the barmaid passed by, Sabrina waved her over.
“Yes, miss?”
“Excuse me, but do you know of anyone looking for any help nearby? A shopkeeper, seamstress, someone in need of a lady’s maid or a milliner?” She knew her skills were lacking, but she was desperate now.
The barmaid leaned in close. “Sorry, miss, there’s only a need for one sort of position around these parts, the kind you spend on your back. If you want to do that, I know a man to see about it.”
“Oh, thank you, but no. I couldn’t do that.”
“You can if your belly stays empty long enough.” The maid sniffed and walked off.
Sabrina wanted to disagree, but there was a frightening truth to that. Perhaps she had to go to London after all. By the time she collected her things and was in the stables seeing to Celeste, she already feared what the coming days would bring. She should have been worrying about the here and now.
“Well now, ain’t you a pretty piece!” a gruff voice said from behind her.
Sabrina whirled to see a massive, meaty man who smelled of spirits. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on her. She held Celeste’s reins, but the man blocked her path to freedom.
“Excuse me, sir, please step aside so that I may pass.”
“Now, now, no need to be so ’asty,” he said with a leer. “I overheard what ye were sayin’ back inside. Why don’t we ’ave a bit of fun, and I can send ye on yer way with a bit of coin. What d’ye say?”
She straightened herself and glared at him. “Move, or I will have my horse tread over you.”
Fury lit the man’s dark eyes. “So it’s like that, is it?” He lunged for her, and she screeched and swung a fist at him. Celeste reared back, pulling free of Sabrina’s tenuous hold on the reins. It gave the man time to grab her.
“Let go of me!”
He pulled her off her feet, and she was thrown onto a bed of hay in an empty stall. When he knelt to grab her, she savagely clawed his face.
He touched his cheek and found blood on his hand. “Oh, ye’ll pay for that.” He removed his belt, formed a loop, and snapped the leather against his palm. Terror overcame Sabrina as he advanced on her.
“I say—this doesn’t look the least bit consenting,” a voice drawled from behind her attacker. “Though I could be mistaken. Some ladies do like a bit of danger in their love life. Spices things up.”
Her attacker turned to stare at Rafe Lennox, who leaned casually against a wooden beam just beyond the stall Sabrina was trapped in.
“Sod off. The bitch is mine,” the man growled.
“Really, now? I had thought Miss Talleyrand had better taste.” Rafe glanced at her. “Tell me, are you consenting to this, Miss Talleyrand?”
“To this? Of course I’m not consenting to this!”
“Well then, there you have it,” Rafe told the man. “Off you go now.”
“What?” the man huffed. “Who the ’ell do ye think ye are?”
“I am the man telling you to go. Politely. I may not be a saint, but I’m still a gentleman, and as such I am duty bound to intercede and free this woman from you.”
“Oh, bugger off, ye puff dandy.”
Rafe rolled his eyes. “I can see words are of little use here. I had better make it quick, shall I? Miss Talleyrand, please watch yourself.” It was her only warning.
Sabrina scrambled back just as Rafe launched himself at the man. The flat sounds of fists striking flesh over and over and the snapping of bone made her flinch and close her eyes. The stable floor shook as the man hit the ground beside her in the stall and didn’t move.
“There. It’s all right, Miss Talleyrand. Our friend here is out for now,” Rafe said. She opened her eyes to see Rafe holding a hand out to her. She accepted it, and he pulled her to her feet. “Perhaps when he sobers up, he’ll have learned the importance of obtaining a woman’s consent.”
“Oh, Celeste!” Sabrina gasped.
Rafe glanced about, as though expecting to see somebody else. “Who?”
She rushed past him to grab the reins of her mare. “My horse.”
“Ah, well, that’s a fine bit of horseflesh,” Rafe said as he joined her.
“Thank you. She was all I could take with me when I left home.” She hadn’t meant to say it, but it slipped out.
“And where is home?” Rafe inquired.
“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
“Oh, so that’s the way of it? Very well, we all have our secrets. Now, have you decided where you are to go?”
“London.”
He offered her a grin. “Splendid. You will travel with Isla and me, then. And no, I insist upon it. Consider it your way of thanking me for saving you in such heroic fashion.”
Sabrina was too tired to argue. “Thank you, Mr. Lennox. Could we tie Celeste to the back of your coach?”
“Easily arranged. My coach is ready. Now, is that your valise?” He bent to pick up her luggage.
“Yes, thank you, but I can carry it.”
“You do remember I said I was a gentleman?” Rafe continued on walking, her valise secured under one arm. “This is what we do.”
Sabrina followed him out of the stables, leading Celeste toward his coach. The stable lad then tied Celeste to the back of the coach. Rafe handed Sabrina’s valise to the footman who was securing their luggage.
“Isla, my dear, we have a guest.” A cherubic face peered out of the open coach door, and the little girl waved at Sabrina.
“Hello, Isla,” she greeted as Rafe helped her inside. “Nice to see you again.”
Once Sabrina was settled, Rafe sat across from her. “See, Miss Talleyrand? That was not so difficult, was it?” She stared at him in confusion, so he added, “Accepting help.”
A blush reddened her cheeks. “No, my lord, it was not.”
“Rafe, please. My brother is a lord, not me.”
“Rafe. Then please, call me Sabrina.”
“Sabrina.” Rafe smiled again, and though there was the cunning of a wolf behind his smile, she did not feel threatened. Perhaps it was the adorable child next to him, but she felt she could trust him.
She spent much of the coach ride answering questions that Isla posed to her, then spoke to Rafe about all manner of topics that were very safe and quite boring.
An hour later, they reached London. When she requested to be let out on Bond Street, Rafe put a hand on the door.
“Sabrina . . . Let me ask you a question, and please know that it comes with no expectations of an amorous nature.”
She tensed at the mention of the word amorous.
“Isla is in need of a governess. I’m new to this business of being a father, and I interviewed a dozen women in the last week, none of whom I would trust with my child. But something tells me you would do well with her. I will pay above the average rate for governesses, and I will advance your first wages to pay for a full wardrobe. I can’t imagine that valise holds very much. I will also not charge room and board for you or Celeste—that will be provided in addition to your wages.”
“But . . .” Sabrina tried to think of any reason to say no, and there simply was not one.
“Excellent. Now, we will proceed straight to my home, and then you will go out and purchase a wardrobe at once.”
Sabrina was still stunned later that evening as she returned to Rafe’s house from the modiste. She’d purchased a dozen new gowns at his insistence. Each of the gowns were serviceable and could be put on without assistance, but they were still pretty. Rafe had warned her not to return with anything drab and went so far as to threaten to burn such gowns if she did. She would have laughed, but there was a strange seriousness in his eyes as he’d replied to her giggling.
“A woman who has a profession does not have to dress so dreadfully that one forgets she is actually a person. I do not want you to blend into the bloody wallpaper. Choose colors and styles you enjoy—that is a command.”
So she had, and yes, she did feel guilty about it, but she also was truly delighted. She was a governess now. She had a profession. It was safe, and she would earn her keep and her horse’s. Sabrina was relieved and comforted by that thought.
Yet as she lay in bed that night, all she could do was dream about that waltz at Lady Germain’s ball and all the things that had come after. What was her mystery stranger doing tonight? Was he thinking of her? Would he ever think of her, or was that one night just one of many to come with other women that he would likely forget?
“You are being silly,” she chided herself. She rolled over, smashing a fist into her pillow to plump it up, and forced herself to sleep. The coming days would bring new challenges, but she needed a decent night’s sleep if she was to face them.
6
Eight months later
* * *
Peregrine removed his hat and coat and handed them to his butler, Jamison, as he entered his townhouse for the evening. He’d spent all day making the rounds, paying calls on families that he must now be better acquainted with. Then he’d met with his solicitors and bankers to assess all the properties and accounts that had come to him after Great-Uncle Frederick had died.
For the last eight months, he had been busy adjusting to the reality of being an earl, of having a future that lifted him out of his meager surroundings and into levels of money and power he didn’t feel he had in any way earned.
“My lord, you have a letter from Mr. Lennox.” His butler nodded, and a footman stepped forward with a letter on a silver tray. Peregrine was still not used to that either.
He removed the letter from the tray and went to his study. Once he was alone, he read Rafe’s note. Rafe planned to visit his friend Lawrence Russell in the Cotswolds for a house party. Lawrence had apparently extended an invitation to Peregrine, since he and Peregrine were now neighbors.
Peregrine had never met Lawrence, at least not officially, but he hoped they would get on well, given that their estates bordered each other. He wrote a hasty reply directed to Rafe and then a second to Lawrence Russell, thanking him and accepting the invitation. He would need to leave in a few days to be there in time for the start of the party.
He delivered the letters to Jamison, and then he stood in the entryway of the vast empty townhouse and let out a sigh. Before his great-uncle died, he’d been living in barely tolerable lodgings in the West End of London, but at least he’d had a sense of companionship with the other people that lived nearby. Now he was utterly alone. His staff would not dare to crack a smile in his presence. He hoped that with time they would soften up, but until then, this “lordship” business was quite lonely.
“What are your plans for this evening, my lord? Should I tell the cook to have dinner ready?” The butler patiently waited for him to decide what he wished to do that night. It never ceased to amaze Peregrine how patient the man could actually be. Jamison was a bloody saint.
“I . . . well, I think I’ll go out.”
“Out, my lord? Should I summon your coach?”
“Yes, thank you, Jamison. I’ll go to my club.” At least there he would have someone to talk to.
“Yes, my lord. I’ll have your coach prepared at once.”
“Thank you.” He returned to his study to look over some letters until Jamison summoned him.
By the time he reached Berkley’s, he was surprised to find himself looking forward to an evening at the club. He’d never been a club sort of man before, even if he could have afforded it, but his need for companionship had changed that.
