Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow

Whatever the difficulties, they found a rapport in the days together. And a startling moment of illumination for both of them.

It became customary on mild days to ride in the expanse of Richmond Park, Lord Joshua with the two children. Sarah did not accompany them, but one afternoon, on her son’s insistence, went to the stables to admire his prowess. Joshua handed his horse to a groom and walked toward her, a welcoming smile.

‘Will you join us?’

‘No.’ Sarah shook her head, but he caught a glimpse of what he interpreted as regret.

On a thought he asked, ‘Can you ride?’ He had never considered that she could not, merely that it was not to her taste. Theodora rode, so he had presumed that her sister did also.

‘No. Our horses were sold.’

Of course. He had not thought of that. A childhood blighted by lack of resources, a profligate father and a feckless mother. Horseflesh would be the first luxury to be sold. He saw the faint colour in her face at the admission, but did not embarrass her with further comment.

‘Do you wish to? I can teach you.’

Sarah hesitated, finding herself struggling between a sharp desire to achieve that skill for herself, yet not wishing to put the burden of her inexperience on to anyone. Certainly not on to Joshua, who probably had his hands full with her son’s enthusiastic efforts. She must not be demanding of his time more than she already was. So: ‘No, but thank you for your kind offer. You go on. You will enjoy the air. I shall take a turn in the garden.’

He would have allowed her to turn away, to deny her interest, but her voice held so wistful a note. He realised in that moment that Sarah had lived her whole life at the whim of others, doing what would please them, never putting her own wishes forward. So much unlike his own life, where the desires of the Faringdon heir were paramount. Well, he would change all that. Today, she would be given the desires of her heart.

‘Sarah.’ He stretched out his hand to grasp hers, to stop her making a retreat. ‘Would you truly wish to ride?’

‘Not an animal such as that.’ She laughed, retreating into light humour, effectively hiding any personal inclination with consummate skill. She had been doing it for years, Lord Joshua decided. And he had only just come to realise it. He watched her as with a shake of her head she indicated her lord’s dark bay stallion, which was in process of pawing up the turf.

‘Sarah… ‘ He allowed just a hint of impatience to creep in.

She heard it. ‘I might.’ To agree was to escape.

‘Go and find something to wear.’ Definitely a command.

‘But I—’

‘We will wait for you.’

In a mild panic, Sarah cast an eye over to where the children were growing impatient.

‘Go on, Scheherazade.’ Joshua clasped her shoulders, turned her round and gave her a gentle but definite push in the direction of the house.

Sarah stalked off. She never stalked—but on this occasion she felt like it, ordered about as if she were a servant. Scheherazade indeed! The thought brought a shocked giggle to her throat, unsure of which emotion took precedence. Terrible nerves at the coming ordeal, disapproval of being ordered to ride whether she wished to or not or…or delight that she might actually, at last, learn to ride a horse.

Within the half hour Lady Faringdon marched back again into the stableyard, clad in plain skirt and close-fitting jacket, accompanied by an obvious cloud of indignation and an invisible but strong bout of nerves.

‘I don’t at all know of the wisdom of this… ‘ The frown between her brows was directed at her lord. Until her attention was caught by a movement in the stable doorway. ‘Oh…’

‘Mama. This is Jewel.’ A groom beside him to hold her head, John held the end of the reins of a little mare, so pale grey as to be almost white. Soft and gentle, perfectly proportioned, a lady’s riding horse with side saddle. Exactly like a painted palfrey, all neat lines and elegantly curving neck, glowing in the winter sunshine as if from a gilded medieval illustration.

‘She’ll look after you.’ Joshua could only smile at his wife’s obvious enchantment with the little animal. If any mare in his stable could entice a reluctant lady to risk the dangers of a first ride, it was The Jewel. And, he knew as he watched her, his wife was just as enchanting as the mare. ‘This is one of Nick’s breeding from Aymestry. She is a gentle little animal, as comfortable a ride as a feather bed. You need have no concerns of her running off with you. She will go to sleep on her feet if you let her.’

‘Well!’ Sarah was speechless. She stroked the satin coat and almost purred as the mare turned dark, long-lashed eyes on her. ‘You are so very pretty.’ The mare promptly sighed and leaned her shoulder against her. Sarah fell instantly in love. Now she had two objects of unreserved love in her life other than her son, she realised. And both of them Faringdon.

‘Come then, my lady.’ Lord Joshua gave her no time to renege, lifted her into the saddle, helped her hook her knee in place with brisk efficiency, held her as she arranged her skirt in graceful folds. ‘The Jewel will do nothing that you do not ask of her.’ He enfolded her hands in his, gave them a light pressure. And made her a promise. ‘And I will not allow any harm to come to you.’ He swung up onto the back of the well-mannered bay and was rewarded by a smile that illuminated his wife’s face with such joy and beauty that it took his breath away.

So they rode in the Park. As a family, Sarah thought, a family of her own. As she had always longed to do. Nothing could have given her greater pleasure. She was nervous, but The Jewel was as precious as her name, as placid, as careful of her rider’s comfort, as had been promised. Sarah could not believe the level of happiness that threatened to overflow and reduce her to emotional tears. She swiped at the dampness on her lashes before anyone could see. The shame and terrors of the past receded into distant impenetrable mist whilst at the centre of her existence was Joshua Faringdon, her world, her universe, filling her heart with love.

The pleasure for Lord Joshua Faringdon was quite simply to see his wife’s delight. The colour, delicate rose, in her face. To hear her laugh when she succeeded in mastering the mare’s slow trot without loss of dignity. He felt the splendour of it as a blow to his gut, a heavy thud of admiration and also of arousal. The desire to draw her close and caress her, mouth to mouth, soft curves to hard planes, her sweet breath mingling with his.

He blinked against the image. And set himself to ignore it. Of course it pleased him to give his wife pleasure. What man could not be moved by the sight of so attractive a lady basking in a new-found confidence and praise from those around her. Any man would feel a need to touch and hold her. It was nothing more complicated than that.

All in all, it was a most satisfactory sojourn at Richmond for everyone. There was only one matter to catch Sarah’s notice and gave her cause for speculation. She found herself remembering Millington’s comments on the anonymous individuals who visited Joshua in London. And the deluge of correspondence to come through the door. The visitors and correspondence followed them to Richmond.

‘Who was that?’ Sarah asked one evening, crossing the path of an unknown gentleman who bowed and wished her good night as he made his way to the front door.

‘My lawyer.’ Joshua’s reply came without hesitation.

‘Is he connected with Mr Hoskins?’ Sarah was acquainted with Hoskins, the Faringdon family’s man of legal affairs.

‘Ah. Yes. A new member of the firm.’

‘Is there a problem?’

‘Why, no.’ Joshua smiled at his wife and held out his hand in welcome. ‘I have an interest in purchasing some land, which he is dealing with. That is all.’

With which Sarah had to be content. Of course he would have business interests. What gentleman of considerable fortune would not?

The Faringdon family returned and took up residence in Hanover Square.

One of Sarah’s first dilemmas was the continuing position of Millington in the household. She remembered his depredations in the wine cellar and her own distressing encounter with him of a more personal nature. With her lord’s permission to dismiss and choose the servants as she saw fit, it would be a matter of common sense to appoint a new butler. But now that she could, she did not at all know that she wished to do so. As she thought about it, the little smile that curved her lips grew, recalling with a degree of affection his part in the French banquet and the subsequent celebration in the servants’ hall. Millington had risen to her support, a positive champion, with aplomb, unquestionable arrogance and an impressive French accent, overseeing the serving of the meal with supercilious hauteur. Not to mention the appearance of the bottles of claret in which they had toasted the defeat of the Countess of Wexford. So Millington remained as butler in the Faringdon household, but with strict instructions as to the amount of port he might consume in any one week.

Within the first week of their return, Lady Joshua Faringdon found herself in receipt of an invitation to pay a morning visit on the Countess of Painscastle in Grosvenor Square. Presenting herself at the appropriate time, she was far from surprised to find Theodora already sitting comfortably with Judith, both awaiting the bride’s appearance. Both were sipping glasses of madeira, both looked up as she entered. Sarah immediately realised that she had been the topic under discussion and with quick understanding set herself to repel any questions of an intimate nature.

She need not have bothered. There was no hope of her holding out with dignity under the scrutiny of two determined ladies.

They rose to greet her, sat her down, presented her with a glass of madeira and proceeded to quiz her on her state of health, her enjoyment of the wedding, her appreciation of the house in Richmond and, of course, her new relationship with Lord Joshua Faringdon.

‘So how is the bride?’ Thea surveyed her critically over the rim of her glass.

‘Very well, Thea. As you see.’ She winced at the prim note in her voice, but determined to give nothing more away.

‘Are you enjoying being a married lady again?’

‘Yes, indeed. Most enjoyable.’

‘I expect your stay in Richmond gave you the opportunity to get to know Joshua better.’

‘Why, yes.’

‘Does Joshua please you?’ There was just a hint of impatience in Thea now. Perhaps the clue was the slight tapping of her foot against the Aubusson carpet.

‘Of course.’ Sarah gripped the stem of her glass rather more firmly and took a fortifying sip.

‘Sarah!’ Thea sighed. ‘Is he virile?’

‘Theodora!’ Judith cast her a look no more horrified than Sarah’s.

‘What?’ The lady’s brows rose in perfect astonishment. ‘We want to know, do we not? And if I do not ask Sarah outright, she will never tell us!’

‘He is my brother!’ Judith explained. ‘It does not seem to me suitable to be discussing such matters of Sher’s…of his… Well! You know what I mean!’

‘Well, I can discuss it. You are suddenly very mealy-mouthed, Ju.’ Thea turned back to her sister with a laugh and a sparkle in her delphinium-blue eyes. ‘Sarah. Did Joshua make you happy?’

The tell-tale colour began to creep up the bride’s throat from the fashionable ruched neckline of her morning gown. ‘Yes. He gave me The Jewel for my own.’

‘That is not what I meant, as you very well know.’

‘I know,’ Sarah admitted, but her smile was now mischievous.

Are you not going to say?’

‘No.’

‘You look very happy.’

‘I am.’

‘Does he give you pleasure? Is he a good lover?’

‘Oh, yes.’ By now Sarah’s cheeks were as pink as a June rose. ‘Oh, yes!’

They laughed. For indeed there could be no doubting it. Thea and Judith clucked in a maternal fashion, Judith pouring more glasses of madeira so that they might toast the bride. Because Sarah Faringdon positively glowed. And her friends were more delighted for her than they would ever have admitted.

It became necessary later within that week for the object of their intense discussion also to pay a morning visit on his sister, fortunately for his dignity knowing nothing of the previous conversation. The visit to Richmond had been more pleasurable than he could have imagined, for a surprising number of reasons, not least his attraction to Sarah herself, his increasing desire to make her happy. So when a thought came into his mind, one that he could not resolve, he decided to pay a visit on Judith.

‘Sher. At last. I am delighted to see you.’ Judith kissed his cheek. ‘How well you look. And completely healed, I see. No cane and no limp. Country life has been good for you.’

‘I am very well.’ He grinned at her obvious ploy, but shook his head before kissing her cheek.

‘I have seen Sarah. She said she enjoyed Richmond. She certainly looks in the pink of health.’ The lady’s sly smile was also ignored.

‘I need your advice, Ju. I wish to buy Sarah a wedding gift.’

Judith laughed. ‘So?’

‘I have no idea what. She can be very… Well, I was hoping for some help. You probably know her the best of any of us.’

‘Joshua!’ Judith blinked at this ingenuous admission, but was immediately caught up in the project, although not without a sharp dig. ‘And I thought you knew women so well.’

‘But not Sarah, it seems.’

‘There is always jewellery, of course.’

‘No. That is not what I want.’ Joshua frowned a little. He knew instinctively that his wife would have difficulty in accepting precious stones. ‘Besides, she will have the Faringdon jewels that Lady Beatrice has promised to hand over.’

‘Mmm. If Mama will part with them. Let me see… You pay for her clothes anyway… ‘

‘Of course.’

Judith thought for a moment, eyes narrowed, contemplating the young woman whom she had indeed come to know well. ‘I know exactly what Sarah would like. It is easily done, but will take some organisation. Let me talk to you about this.’

It took a week to put the plan into operation. It demanded some organisation, as Judith had intimated, some surreptitious furniture moving in Hanover Square, some expenditure on Joshua’s part, the compliance and secrecy of the Faringdon servants and, finally, a need for Judith and Thea to arrange to remove Sarah from her home for a whole day. Sarah suspected nothing underhand when the morning visit to Thea became a light luncheon, then a drive around Hyde Park and finally a visit to a number of establishments in Bond Street with her sister and Judith. She arrived home in the growing dusk of late afternoon, pleasantly weary, changed her clothes, spent some time with Beth and John, who appeared to be particularly excitable, and at last went to search out the whereabouts of Lord Joshua, whom she had not set eyes on since leaving the breakfast table. For some reason she found him awaiting her in the entrance hall.

She smiled as she descended the stairs. He could not but smile back as he waited and watched her. She had no idea how lovely she was, he realised, or how her looks and her demeanour had unfurled as a rose with the warmth of the morning sun since her marriage. He could not help but experience a degree of purely masculine pride at the thought. Her skin was flawless, her eyes shining, enhanced by the favourite viola-blue of her gown. Her neat figure could not but attract attention as she conducted herself with confidence and a charming simplicity. Her fair curls gleamed softly in the light, held in place by rosettes of satin ribbon to match her gown. She had banished the lace cap—he had insisted that she banish the cap! Now she appeared as she was, a young matron of wealth, style and the gentlest degree of sophistication. That was Sarah.

‘Sarah.’ He took her hand, would have kissed her fingers, but could not resist drawing her closer to press his mouth to hers, a lingering pressure, a memory of more heated kisses, despite the possibility of their privacy being broached. It did not matter. She was his wife and he… What exactly? He did not know, except that he was coming to care for her… although care suddenly seemed too mild a word to describe the manner in which his pulse picked up its beat when he set eyes on her. Or even thought about her. But he deliberately banished from his mind the uncertainty of his exact emotions. Because here in the following few minutes a greater uncertainty was in the process of unfolding. Would the lady appreciate what he had done?

‘Joshua.’ She coloured, a delicate brush of rose, but let him hold her a little longer. Why not? It was the stuff of dreams after all, to see him standing there, all Faringdon magnificence, waiting for her, waiting to take her into his arms, to claim her lips with his own. What woman would not dream of that? She sighed softly and looked up at him. ‘Were you waiting for me?’ Just a little breathless as she noted the fiery heat in his eyes.

‘I was. It was in my mind that I would like to give you something. A wedding gift.’

‘Is it a diamond necklace? A parting gift?’ Her nose wrinkled deliciously. But was it humour or concern here?

He did not smile. In fact, his expression became quite severe. ‘Are you dissatisfied with me as a husband after a mere few weeks, ma’am?’

‘No.’

‘Well, neither am I with you as my wife. So, no, it is not a diamond necklace. Although, if you find a desire to sparkle and impress at a ball or soirée, there is at least one in the Faringdon collection.’

‘I might.’ She chuckled as he tucked her hand companionably through his arm to lead her back up the stairs in the direction from which she had just come. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Wait and see.’

Sarah knew the house well. Had she not been responsible for its cleaning and furbishment? So when he led her to the rarely-used parlour on the first floor with its view over the square and its garden she looked up, a quizzical expression. Her lord refused to respond, but opened the door and ushered her in before him. Then stood back to test the waters.

Sarah walked forward to stand in the centre of the room. Then turned slowly in a full circle. Of course, she knew this room as well as any of the others. The wall paper was still the Chinese silk, a little worn but deliciously festooned with pale pink and blue cranes and chrysanthemums on a silver background. The tall windows let in what was left of the evening light, to warm the pale marble of the Grecian fireplace. All of this she knew. But as for the rest, it was all quite different and effectively robbed her of speech. The curtains and swags that had suffered from age and faded over the years from the heat of the sun had been replaced with splendid new drapes of cream and silver silk damask. All the dust sheets had been removed from the furniture—and that too had changed. Her eyes flew to her lord’s in astonishment.

‘Do you like it?’ He stepped forward to light a branch of candles at her side, the soft flames adding a further layer of charm to the little room.

Sarah’s mouth opened, but she could find nothing to say.

‘It is yours.’ Joshua found a need to explain. ‘Thea would call it a boudoir. It is a wedding gift to you. I…er…took advice…’ A moment of horror suddenly silenced him. ‘From Judith,’ he added quickly, in case she should think it might be Olivia Wexford.

Sarah laughed softly in appreciation, then turned again to survey the full magnificence of the gift. Small and decorative pieces of furniture suitable for a lady’s sitting room or boudoir had been collected from various rooms in the house, with the notable addition of some new pieces. Walnut, rosewood, all light and well polished, inlaid with various and decorative woods, they seduced her senses and beckoned her to enter and claim it as her own. Two bergère chairs with gilded sides and cushioned seats to match the drapes stood on either side of the fireplace to accommodate any guests Sarah might wish to entertain, between them a sofa with scrolled ends, upholstered in cream silk, perfect for a lady to take her ease. A side table rested beside the wall next to a beautiful writing desk with a tambour top, which had been shrouded in a dust sheet, unused, in the morning room when Sarah had first come to the house. On the walls were two of her own framed paintings of rural scenes, last seen in the schoolroom. A small bookcase stood beside the fireplace—she had never seen that before—with some favourite novels in marbled covers—which hinted at Thea’s influence. She saw an inlaid work table for her silks and embroideries, nothing like the old battered box she used in the schoolroom. All tastefully enhanced by a satinwood firescreen, a gilt-edged mirror above the fireplace, silver candlesticks, an extravagantly pale carpet and—oh, wonders!—a pianoforte beneath the window, of rosewood and satinwood inlay, its ivory notes gleaming softly and simply demanding to be played.

‘Well?’

Sarah walked to the pianoforte to stroke a few notes. They sounded soft and clear in the still room.

‘Sarah.’ Her silence was unnerving. ‘Will you put me out of my misery? I remember you once returned something so trivial as a coat that you thought I should not have given you. What will you do if this does not please you?’

‘Does not please me? How could it not?’ Now she turned to him. The smile on her face stopped his words. And the tears that coursed silently down her cheeks.

‘Sarah!’ His arms opened wide and she simply walked into them, to lay her forehead against his shoulder and weep. ‘Don’t weep, Scheherazade. We shall both be drowned. I will take it all back if that is your wish.’ But he knew there was no danger of that. He had seen the pure joy in her face. Everything was good. His heart clenched hard in a foolish beat of triumph as he pressed his lips against her hair.

‘No one has ever shown me such kindness. It is beyond anything I could imagine.’ She wiped away the tears with unsteady fingers. ‘I love it.’ She risked a glance at his face. ‘I suspect you had help here.’

‘Indeed I did!’ He waved his arm to encompass the room. ‘This is beyond me. But you have some good friends. And your children love you. The flowers are from Beth.’ They bloomed, waxy hellebores, in a little crystal vase on the side table.

‘It is beautiful. All of it. And the pianoforte… I cannot express how I feel. You have no idea how happy it has made me.’

And that, of course, was all that he desired to hear.

It put Sarah, being Sarah, into something of a difficulty.

A room of her own. A boudoir. How extravagant in the extreme. But it pricked her conscience. What could she possibly give Joshua in return? It behoved her to give him some symbol of her gratitude and—well—her love. But she could hardly spend his own money on a gift for him. It needed some serious thought. And eventually some skilful application of her talents. The result was a small package wrapped in silk, left on Joshua’s desk in the library with his name inscribed on a single sheet of paper.

Where Joshua duly found it. And that was so like Sarah, he thought, his smile a little sad. That she should leave it for him rather than present it personally, rather than risk his displeasure or disappointment. His constant dream was that one day she would find the courage to stand before him and speak her mind—and damn the consequences. Perhaps one day she would. But not yet. He unwrapped the silk to extract a small portrait, little more than a miniature, painted in water-colour on ivory. An image of a young girl, head and shoulders only, with dark eyes and dark hair released and allowed to curl onto her cheeks, ribbons in her hair. The edging of her dress, a soft blue, just visible, brought colour to her cheeks. She had a smile on her lips and looked out at him confidently.

Beth, of course.

And, more importantly, Sarah’s work.

It was a good likeness, painted with a free hand to give a sense of youth and energy. The Beth he was coming to know, in fact, rather than the stiff, formal child who had arrived so short a time ago. The frame, too, was of Sarah’s making, silk embroidered with tiny flowers stretched and pinned over a wooden frame. A pretty thing, guaranteed to please. It still lay before him on the desk when Beth came into the library to select a book. She came to stand beside him to look at what took his attention.