Page 34 of One Waltz with the Viscount

A liveried servant hopped down from the front of the carriage and opened the door, holding out his hand to assist the lady inside to step down onto the street. Sarah inhaled sharply as she recognised the willowy, elegant figure of Lady Shrewsbury. The Countess looked up at the lodging house, and Sarah quickly stepped away from the window, hoping she hadn’t been seen.

A minute later Mrs Angel was knocking at her door.

‘All these comings and goings, I don’t know what to think, Miss Shepherd. This is a quiet lodging house.’

‘Do I have a visitor, Mrs Angel?’

‘Outside. She opted to wait in her carriage.’

‘Thank you.’

Sarah contemplated closing the door and pretending she was not there, but Lady Shrewsbury struck her as a tenacious woman who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. With a sigh she picked up her bonnet and left the bedroom, wondering what Lord Routledge’s friend could want with her.

‘Thank you for coming out to meet me,’ Lady Shrewsbury said, beaming out at her. ‘Would you come and join me? I thought we could go for a ride. The weather is becoming unbearable again, but with the curtains drawn back it is quite pleasant in the carriage.’

Inside the space was small but the upholstery luxurious. Sarah sank back into the seat of the carriage, opposite Lady Shrewsbury, taking a moment to arrange her skirts. She was conscious of the much inferior cut and material of her dress compared to that of the Countess, which was a beautiful garment made out of green satin.

‘Is there something you wished to discuss, my lady?’ Sarah asked, looking at the other woman directly, refusing to be cowed by their difference in social status.

‘Miss Shepherd, you must understand my position,’ Lady Shrewsbury began, softening the words with a diplomatic smile. ‘Lord Routledge is a dear friend, in many ways like the brother I never had, and I worry about his welfare.’

Sarah bristled, but tried not to show it.

‘Lord Routledge is a Viscount, whereas I am a mere miss from Sussex.’

‘Yet in just a few days you have managed to bewitch him,’ Lady Shrewsbury murmured.

Sarah’s head shot up—she had not expected the Countess to be so blunt.

Lady Shrewsbury held up a placating hand. ‘Perhaps my turn of phrase is too strong, too accusatory, but the fact remains that ever since deciding he was going to dedicate his life to regaining contact with his sister, Lord Routledge has not once acted rashly. Then you come along and suddenly he is bringing you to the opera and sheltering under trees with you during thunderstorms.’

She was glad Lady Shrewsbury did not know of their latest foray out into the world together, to the seedier parts of London.

‘Lord Routledge has been kind enough to help me find my sister.’

‘He is very kind. He would hate it if I insinuated that he was sometimes too kind, but I have my opinions.’

Sarah blinked a few times, taken aback again by Lady Shrewsbury’s directness.

‘What would it take for you to go away? To disappear from his life and never come back?’

‘There is nothing you could offer me,’ Sarah said, feeling the first stirrings of anger deep inside her. For now she kept her voice calm and neutral, although tension gathered in her shoulders.

‘Nothing? I am a very wealthy woman.’

‘There is nothing you could offer me because, in a couple of weeks—sooner, if I find my sister—I will be leaving London anyway, and I don’t expect to have any further contact with Lord Routledge.’

Lady Shrewsbury frowned, studying her.

‘I do not want to seduce Lord Routledge, I do not wish to divert him from his plans to marry some young debutante his father approves of, I do not wish to prevent him from reuniting with his sister. All I want is to find out what happened to my own sister, and if Lord Routledge is kind enough to offer help with that then I am hardly going to refuse, am I, Lady Shrewsbury?’

There was silence in the carriage for a full minute as Lady Shrewsbury contemplated Sarah’s speech.

‘You are telling me if Lord Routledge came to you tomorrow and asked for your hand in marriage, you would refuse?’

Sarah laughed. ‘The question is preposterous. We have known each other but two days. Surely you have more faith in Lord Routledge’s judgement than that?’ She knew she should not speak in such a disrespectful tone, but Lady Shrewsbury had plucked her from her lodging house and was now accusing her of scheming to entrap Lord Routledge into marriage.

‘Sometimes a good and kind man can be taken in by an ambitious minx.’