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‘Oh, no. No.’
‘I am sorry, my lady. Would you prefer the white wine?’ The footman at her elbow was looking at her in a way that made her realise she had spoken aloud.
‘Oh, Thomas, I’m sorry. The champagne will be perfect, thank you.’
No, I am not falling in love with Lucian Avery. I refuse to. I… He… We…
‘The library, do you think?’ Lucian suggested. ‘It always seems deserted in the evenings.’
‘Yes, yes of course.’ I must stop gibbering, I sound a complete ninny. ‘Papa is threatening to put together a cricket match later this week. Will you play?’
‘I would enjoy that,’ Lucian said politely. ‘But are there enough men to make up two teams?’
‘He has an Eldonstone Eleven already made up of staff and tenants and they play regularly with other village and estate teams all through the summer. With him and Ashe, and if all the male guests play, then we will have two teams.’
*
The meal passed in a blur. On one level Sara made unexceptionable conversation first to Lucian on one side, then to the vicar who had been invited for the evening, on the other. Both men were interested in cricket, so it was easy to engage harmlessly with that. On the other level she was wrestling with her feelings for the man sitting so near that she could feel his familiar heat all down her right side.
All she could think about as dinner wended its way through what seemed like interminable courses was that she must sit down with Lucian, quietly, calmly—without touching—and ask him why he had proposed marriage. He had said he would propose again when they were both dry and this time she hoped that he would explain just why he thought it even likely, let alone a good idea.
He watches you, Marguerite had said. And you watch him.
Finally, her mother stood up and led the ladies out to the drawing room where the doors were open to the terrace and the warm evening air. The men joined them after half an hour and people began to stroll outside or break up into small conversational groups around the drawing room.
Sara joined Lucian as he stood looking at a picture in one corner. ‘I think we can safely escape now.’
They did so by the simple expedient of going out on to the terrace, then ducking into the dining room and out again into the deserted hall. ‘I like your parents’ approach to a house party,’ Lucian said as they walked slowly along to the far door that led into the library. ‘Very relaxed.’
‘I would have thought you would disapprove and expect something more…starched-up.’
‘I do not know where you get the impression that I am starched-up,’ Lucian remarked. He turned to face her and bent to snatch a kiss. ‘I would not have thought my behaviour merited that epitaph.’ When she did not answer immediately he asked, ‘Do you think me a hypocrite? I was very strict with Marguerite because she is young and not out. And I strongly disapprove of adultery and of seducing single girls.’
‘I am glad to hear it. No, I do not think you a hypocrite and it was unfair to say that about being starched-up. I suppose it is your attitude to duelling. I live in dread of finding that you have called Ashe out over that punch when we arrived.’
‘He was within his rights to resent me and to want to protect you.’ Lucian shrugged. ‘I may well return the favour should we find ourselves in the stable yard with no ladies around, but that is different.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is. You would thump each other black and blue and emerge firm friends, I suppose. The masculine mind never ceases to amaze me.’ She was still shaking her head and laughing as Lucian opened the door into the study for her to step inside.
The room was unlit, except for the two lamps left burning on the side tables, but the curtains were still drawn open and there was more than enough light for Sara to see the young man who started up from the comfortable old leather sofa that stood with its back to the door.
He had obviously been lying on the sofa and what he was doing there was all too obvious from his open shirt, missing neckcloth and tousled hair. Gregory?
There was a muffled shriek and Marguerite sat up beside him, clutching the bodice of her gown to her half-exposed bosom. Behind Sara Lucian said, ‘What is wrong?’ She could feel him pressing close as he tried to see past her as she blocked the way.
Sara was about to close the door on them and at least allow them to get themselves decent before Lucian got his hands around Gregory’s throat when there was the sound of footsteps.
‘I am sure Eldonstone has a good globe or an atlas in the library. I can show you exactly where my nephew Alfred is posted in India, Marjorie dear.’
Lady Thale. Sara whirled around, pulled the door to and leaned back against it, giving the panels a painful warning thump with her elbow while she was about it. If those two inside had not managed to escape through the window by now they would have to take their chances.
‘Kiss me.’
‘What? Here? Now?’
‘Kiss me. This is an emergency.’ She could not wait for any further protests—or to worry about what happened next—the two ladies would come around the corner at any moment. Sara threw her arms around Lucian’s neck, pulled his head down and kissed him with fierce determination.
From behind them as they stood embracing there was a shriek, then, ‘Lady Sara! Lord Cannock?’
