Regency Christmas Vows: The Blanchland Secret / The Mistress of Hanover Square

‘If we could be permitted to change our clothes, ma’am—’

‘Of course, my love.’ The Countess swept up her goddaughter and Amelia, and shepherded them towards the stairs. ‘Come along with me! The gentlemen are quite preoccupied and will not notice—’

The Earl’s voice stayed them as they reached the half-landing.

‘Charlotte, be sure to deliver Miss Sheridan to the blue drawing-room just as soon as she is ready! Guy will be waiting for her!’

‘Like father, like son,’ the Countess murmured under her breath. ‘I fear that an autocratic nature is in the Woodallan blood!’

It was three-quarters of an hour later that Sarah descended the stairs again. She was clean and dry, dressed in a becoming russet gown belonging to the younger of Lady Woodallan’s daughters and with her hair neatly braided into a bun on the top of her head.

‘Too austere, Miss Sheridan,’ was Guy’s comment as he ushered her into the blue drawing-room. ‘You are too soft and sweet to pretend to such severity!’

He, too, had changed into clean buckskins, polished boots and an olive green jacket that fitted his broad shoulders to perfection. Sarah, experiencing a traitorous rush of feeling on seeing him, immediately went on the attack.

‘By what right do you criticise my appearance, sir? Kindly refrain from becoming too personal!’

Guy grinned, unabashed, and gestured her to a chair before the fire. ‘That was precisely the matter I wished to discuss with you, Miss Sheridan—Sarah. May I call you Sarah?’

‘I am surprised you trouble to ask, sir!’ Sarah said hotly. ‘No, you may not!’

‘Very well then, Miss Sheridan, I will not provoke you!’ Guy sat down opposite her. Sarah, who was feeling quite on edge, resented his assumption of ease. ‘I am grateful to you for granting me a hearing. I feared you would not. My behaviour in Bath—’ He stopped, and started again. ‘After the things I said, I could not blame you if you choose to deny me the chance to apologise.’

‘I have promised to hear you out, my lord,’ Sarah said coldly. ‘Beyond that, I promise nothing.’

Guy grimaced. ‘You are not making this easy for me, Miss Sheridan! I wished to apologise to you, both for my actions and my words last night—’

Sarah got to her feet, her face suffused with colour. Her instinct was to flee the room immediately out of sheer embarrassment. Despite herself, she could not prevent a scorching memory of the events of the previous night from invading her thoughts.

Anticipating her retreat, Guy moved swiftly to stand between her and the door.

‘Please, Miss Sheridan—you promised me a hearing—’

‘I have done so, sir,’ Sarah said, as steadily as she could. ‘You wished to apologise and I have heard you.’

‘And?’

‘And, sir?’

Guy gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘And do you forgive me? I do not seek to justify myself in any way. What I did was inexcusable.’

Sarah paused. It did seem churlish to reject his apology when he seemed sincere, particularly as he had made no attempt to excuse his actions. She could feel a tiny corner of her heart unfreezing towards him and ruthlessly sought to conquer her weakness. It would never do to allow the spark of that earlier attraction to be rekindled into life. She had burned herself badly enough on that already.

‘Very well, sir. I accept your apology.’

‘That was not precisely what I asked.’ Guy was frowning. ‘I wished to know if you forgive me.’

‘And the answer is no.’ Sarah met his eyes very straight. ‘I do not forgive you for speaking to me as you did, nor for believing me a…a woman of easy virtue. That I cannot pardon.’

Guy inclined his head. ‘You are very frank and I accept what you say, Miss Sheridan. But there were mitigating factors—’

‘Which you said you would not raise to justify yourself!’

Guy gave her a wry smile. ‘That’s true, but may we not sit down and talk a little more?’

Sarah looked at him for a moment, then reluctantly returned to her seat in front of the fire. Despite the uncomfortable situation, she had to admit that the atmosphere of Woodallan was very restful. The drawing-room, decorated in pale blue and gold, and with the small fire adding a heart of warmth, was most peaceful. The charm of Woodallan went beyond mere wealth or good taste—it was so tempting to relax into it, but Sarah knew she could not afford to do so. She did not belong here.

‘You seem unaccountably determined to prolong my discomfiture, my lord,’ she observed, knowing that the colour still burned in her cheeks. ‘Generosity might prompt you to let the matter go now.’

‘Forgive me, there is a reason that I shall come to shortly.’ Guy sat forward, resting his chin on his hand. ‘I am sorry for listening to groundless gossip and still more sorry for acting on it, as I have said, but I confess I am puzzled as to the truth, Miss Sheridan. What can have prompted you to decide to travel to Blanchland, when you knew that to do so would cause such speculation?’

Sarah hesitated. She was terribly tempted to tell him the truth, but realised that this was only because she wanted him to think well of her again. Such a motive was hardly a good enough reason to give away the secret. If Guy could not trust her without proof, then she would not oblige him.

‘It is a family matter,’ she said evasively. ‘I am fulfilling a request from my late brother.’

Guy frowned a little. ‘Can you not be more specific, Miss Sheridan? I am trying to understand—’

Sarah shook her head. ‘I appreciate your concern, my lord, but it is a private matter. I have told no one, not even Amelia.’ She looked up and met his eyes. ‘She does not know the reason for my quest, but she is prepared to trust my judgement and accompany me, even so.’

‘Point taken, Miss Sheridan,’ Guy murmured. He got to his feet again and strolled over to the window. ‘But you must also take my point. Whilst your motives for travelling to Blanchland may be of the purest, the interpretation put on them will not be. It is inevitable that the world will make its own judgements. Miss Sheridan, if I could only prevail upon you to reconsider your visit? Could not your man of business undertake the commission to Blanchland? You could then stay here at Woodallan for a while and there would be no grounds for scandal…’

Sarah was tempted. The Blanchland visit had already caused so much trouble, and she had not even arrived. And to be able to stay at Woodallan would be blissful. She shook her head slowly. ‘Do not press me, sir. There is much appeal in your suggestion, but I cannot. My brother has asked me to undertake this quest personally and I shall do as he wished.’

Guy looked at her for a moment, but she did not retract her statement. He sighed. ‘Then you must also take the consequences, Miss Sheridan. Greville may not have put it most delicately when he told Lady Amelia she would be ruined, but he is in the right of it. Without the protection of his name, she will be reviled. And the same must apply to you.’

Sarah frowned. ‘I do not dispute the truth of your words, sir, but I am not surprised that Amelia quarrelled with Sir Greville over it! He was insufferably righteous, and to make an offer in such a manner is to beg a refusal! As for my own situation, I feel it is not as acute as Lady Amelia’s. I have no position in society to support—as a poor relation I have no prospects to ruin!’

‘You may choose to see yourself in that light, Miss Sheridan,’ Guy said quietly, ‘but others will think differently. I myself…’ he hesitated ‘…I believe that you should consider…In short, it would give me the greatest pleasure if you would do me the honour of marrying me.’

Sarah stared at him in total disbelief. ‘Are you mad, sir, or is this some ill-timed jest?’

Guy’s lips tightened angrily, though he was clearly trying to keep control of his temper. ‘Neither, madam! I saw it as a way out of your present difficulties—’

‘Thank you!’ Sarah was on her feet as well now, facing him across the room. ‘Despite my lack of prospects, I had not viewed marriage as a solution to my problems!’ She was astounded at the strength of her own anger. ‘Yesterday you told me that my behaviour suggested that I was some sort of trollop and you treated me as such! Scarcely the conduct of a man prepared for matrimony! Then today you suggest I marry you to provide a way out of an unfortunate predicament! Forgive me, my lord, if I do not fall into your arms with tears of gratitude!’

Guy winced. ‘I realise that this is not the way you might have wished it—’

‘Very true! I do not wish to hear this at all!’

‘Yet you should know that I have already given people to understand that we are shortly to become betrothed in order to protect your good name!’

Sarah looked at him in infuriated silence for a moment before bursting out, ‘You take too much upon yourself, my lord! Upon my word, of all the high-handed, arrogant, ill-conceived ideas—’

Guy closed the distance between them in two strides. He seemed amused rather than angered by Sarah’s outrage. ‘I am aware of your opinion of me, Miss Sheridan, but I believe you are being less than honest. Confess that you like me a little!’

Sarah glared up at him. ‘I shall not! Conceited, overbearing…’

She was incensed to see that Guy was actually grinning. He took her hands. ‘Come, come, Miss Sheridan, we could be here for some time at this rate! Say you will consider my proposal, at the least!’

Sarah’s treacherous heart did a little somersault. The warm touch of his fingers was distracting. ‘Certainly not, my lord!’

‘Then you force me to be less than chivalrous!’ He was drawing her closer. Sarah resisted, feeling her heart start to race.

‘It would be more surprising to find you behaving in a gentlemanly fashion, sir!’ The words came out more huskily than she intended. His proximity was having a disastrous effect. Sarah was suddenly aware of the intimate heat of the room, the sweet scent of lilies by the fireplace, the sensitivity of her skin beneath his touch…

‘Unfair, Miss Sheridan!’ Guy murmured in her ear. ‘Have I not just behaved in the most gallant manner possible? Alas that you force me to a point of clarification on our discussion earlier.’ His lips brushed her hair, causing Sarah to shiver. She desperately tried to step back but found that her limbs would not obey her.

‘Clarification, sir?’ Her words came out as a whisper.

‘Indeed. I wish you to know,’ Guy continued, ‘that when I apologised for my behaviour that night it was in relation to our argument and the unfounded accusations I made against you.’ He looked directly into her eyes. ‘I do not intend to apologise for…what came after.’

He was very close now. Sarah’s gaze moved involuntarily to the hard line of his jaw, his mouth…She felt herself turn hot all over and wrenched her gaze away, fixing it sternly on a potted palm in a corner of the room.

‘And yet I believe, my lord, that you were acting under a misapprehension…’

‘In a sense…I’ll allow I thought myself deceived and believed you…experienced. Yet my behaviour was very much in accordance with what I had wanted ever since I first saw you, Miss Sheridan…’

Sarah felt smothered by the heated atmosphere and her own emotions. Her heart was beating light and fast in her throat and she knew she had to put some distance between them, but she could not seem to break away from him. She could not be so weak as to fall under his spell again so soon, not when he had traduced her character and shown his lack of faith in her, then compounded his sins by a high-handed proposal that she could only refuse…

Guy let go of her hand, but only to draw her closer still, until their bodies were almost touching.

‘Deny that you felt the same way, too, Miss Sheridan. Deny it if you dare!’

‘I do deny it!’ Sarah wrenched herself free of him and backed away. She was utterly confused by the emotions he could stir up in her. ‘Tomorrow I shall leave here for Blanchland and you need not concern yourself with my affairs any further, my lord. It will no longer be any of your business!’

Guy’s expression was inscrutable. He made no move to touch her again, but his voice held her still when she would have run away. ‘You have made your feelings plain, Miss Sheridan. I must disappoint you, however. I have made this my business and I do not intend to disengage now. You may have as much time as you wish to get used to the idea, but the fact remains—you will marry me!’

Chapter Five

Dinner was a surprisingly good-humoured meal, considering that Sarah was avoiding Guy and Amelia and Greville were evidently not speaking to each other. The Earl and Countess took charge effortlessly, the former charming Amelia and the latter regaling Sarah with tales of her married daughters and their families. Guy and Greville fell to discussing horses, the food was excellent, and the meal passed without incident. It was only later, when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, that the Earl took a seat beside Sarah and broached the delicate subject. They had chatted for a while about Sarah’s life in Bath, reminisced about earlier times and talked about developments in the Woodallan estate, before Sarah had unwisely remarked that the Earl must be glad to have his son and heir restored to him. Lord Woodallan smiled.

‘I must admit there were times when I thought I’d never see Guy again! I suppose he had to get rid of his restlessness before he was prepared to settle down. In my youth it was the Grand Tour and these days it is the War, but either way…’ He twinkled at her. ‘And now I find that he is all set for parson’s mousetrap, but the lady of his choice is not willing!’

Sarah blushed. ‘Sir—’

The Earl patted her clasped hands. ‘I know I am an interfering old man, but I only wished to say that nothing would make me happier than to see Jack Sheridan’s daughter take her place in due course as mistress of Woodallan.’

Sarah looked away. ‘Thank you, sir. I am sorry…there are difficulties…’

‘I guessed as much,’ the Earl said drily, ‘but perhaps they will resolve themselves more easily than you might think, Sarah! Just do not keep my scapegrace son waiting too long, I beg you. He may seem a rogue, but he has many sound qualities—I should know, for he inherits them all from me!’

The Earl of Woodallan’s study faced southwest, looking across the bowling-green and the formal parterre to the deer park and the Mendip Hills beyond. On this particular evening, the heavy brocade curtains were closed against the night and two lamps burned on the tables each side of the fire. Guy, who had just finished a game of billiards with Greville, found his father sitting in one of the armchairs, perusing a well-worn leather bound book. He invited his son to pour them both a drink.

‘Brandy for you, sir?’ Guy asked, crossing to the decanter and pouring a generous measure into the two cut glasses that stood there. He took one across to his father, noting the effort it seemed to cost the Earl simply to stretch out a hand for the glass. The Earl managed to conceal his weakness most of the time, but his son could see the changes that illness had wrought in him.

The Earl fixed Guy with his piercing dark gaze and said gruffly, ‘I meant it when I said I was glad to see you back in one piece, boy. I must admit there were times in the last four years when I wished you’d had a brother!’

Guy laughed. He sat down opposite his father, stretching his legs out towards the grate. A fire burned there and its warmth was comforting.

‘I am here now, sir, and don’t intend to go travelling again!’

The fierce black gaze looked him over. ‘You look well enough on it, I suppose,’ the Earl said. ‘A bad business, though. Must have had its nasty moments.’

‘Yes, sir, although there were none when I thought I would not see my home again!’

‘You were lucky,’ the Earl said unemotionally. ‘The quacks tell me I shouldn’t touch this stuff,’ he added, tilting the brandy glass to his lips with evident enjoyment, ‘but it makes no odds now.’

‘I expect it helps sometimes.’

The Earl gave him a sharp look. ‘No fool, are you, boy? You know I’m dying. No…’ he made a gesture as Guy shifted uncomfortably ‘…denials are for the women and the medical men. I know the truth. It’s one of the reasons I wanted you back here.’

‘Of course. You know that I will do anything in my power—’

The Earl put his glass down with a hand that was not quite steady. ‘There is something I have to ask of you, Guy, a particular commission before you can come home for good and settle down. Set up your nursery, perhaps.’ There was a glint of a smile. ‘It pains me to send you away no sooner than you arrive, but I have no choice.’

Guy made a slight gesture, at a loss. ‘Name your commission, sir. I will undertake it.’

‘In a moment.’ The Earl turned aside, picking a letter from the table at his elbow. ‘Tell me, what is the nature of the quarrel between you and Miss Sarah Sheridan?’

Guy met his father’s quizzical gaze. ‘Forgive me, sir, but I do not wish to discuss it. It is…a personal matter.’

‘I see,’ the Earl said slowly. ‘Can it be anything to do with her intention to return to her home at Blanchland? I take it that that is her destination tomorrow?’

Guy jumped. Some brandy spilled. From early childhood his father had had an uncanny knack of reading his mind and the young Guy had sometimes wondered whether the Earl had supernatural powers. Their eyes met. Guy had always found it impossible to lie to his father.

‘Devil take it, sir, how can you possibly know that? I cannot believe that Miss Sheridan would have mentioned it—’

‘She did not,’ the Earl confirmed with a smile. ‘In point of fact, she refused to tell me the difficulties that afflict your relationship. I take it that I am correct in thinking that you wish to marry the lady?’

Guy grinned reluctantly at his father’s perspicacity. ‘Yes, sir. You mentioned earlier that you wished to see me settle down…Well, almost as soon as I met Miss Sheridan I had such thoughts, for all that I had known her so short a while.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘They were thoughts quite alien to the lifestyle of a rake!’

‘It happens to us all sooner or later,’ his father said drily. ‘But you quarrelled—over Blanchland?’

Guy shifted slightly again. ‘More or less. I thought that her decision to go there reflected ill on her character and judgement. I said some terrible things to her, for which I am truly ashamed. When I had had chance to reconsider, I realised that I might have misjudged her, and apologised. But still she refuses to tell me the reason for her decision—’

‘I believe that I may throw some light on that,’ the Earl said, surprisingly. ‘You had better read this letter now.’

Guy took the proffered sheets with a certain curiosity. He had no notion what to expect, but now he saw that it was in a gentleman’s hand and read the signature as that of Francis Sheridan. He remembered Sarah telling him that her quest to Blanchland was in connection with her brother and frowned.

‘But Frank Sheridan…’

‘Yes, he has been dead these three years,’ the Earl agreed readily. ‘Unusual, is it not! There was a covering note from the lawyer…’ He passed it over.

Julius Churchward’s note was brief and to the point. A situation had arisen that had prompted him to send the enclosed letter to the Earl. He was confident that the letter from Lord Sheridan would be self-explanatory, but he felt that he should add that Miss Sarah Sheridan had also been given a letter from her late brother. He remained his lordship’s humble servant, etcetera. Guy raised his eyebrows.

‘As clear as day!’

The Earl laughed. ‘Read the letter, Guy.’

Guy settled back in his chair and scanned the sheets with close interest.

Dear Sir

I am conscious that you will find it most odd in me to be communicating with you from beyond the grave, but I find I must. I am compelled to contact you to ask that you do me a service, not for my own sake—I know your feelings on that matter only too well!—but for the sake of my sister, and indeed to aid your own grandchild.

Guy looked up, his gaze suddenly startled, but the Earl’s expression was hooded. ‘Finish the letter, boy.’

At the time of writing, Miss Meredith is fifteen years old and attending a seminary in Oxford. She is a pretty, behaved girl who has never caused either myself or her adoptive parents any concern. I have no reason to suppose that she will not progress from her school to make a suitable and entirely respectable marriage in the fullness of time. I only wish I had the means to ensure it. Unhappily I cannot. I am dying and I am aware that that will leave Miss Meredith and her parents without the security that my family has been able to provide, albeit at a distance, for all of her life.

I could think of only one plan. I have instructed Dr Meredith and his wife that if ever their daughter is in great need, they should contact Julius Churchward. They are good people and I am persuaded would only resort to this if the need was genuine and severe. Once Churchward receives any communication from them, he is to contact Sarah and acquaint her with the problem.

I have thought much about asking my sister to go to the aid of my natural daughter. It is most irregular. I should, of course, have made the request to you directly, sir, but the truth is that I did not dare. You made your feelings for me quite plain all those years ago and even now I know that you cannot forgive me.

But now I am beseeching you, for the sake of the love you bear Sarah as her godfather, to stand her friend. Her innate goodness will prompt her to do what is right, but she may be in need of protection. And I commend Miss Meredith to you as an innocent child who does not deserve to suffer for her father’s faults. Forgive me for my presumption. I can only add that if you see fit to answer my request I will be forever thanking you for your kindness.

Francis Sheridan.

Guy put down the pages of closely written words and reached for the brandy decanter again.

‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘Miss Sheridan goes to Blanchland at her brother’s request to aid his natural daughter.’ He met his father’s sardonic gaze. ‘What do you wish to tell me about the detail of this letter, sir?’

The Earl gave a rueful shrug. ‘How do you read it?’

Guy’s gaze narrowed. ‘That you have a grandchild whom, for reasons of which I am unaware, you have chosen not to acknowledge. To say that I am astounded would be to understate the case. And if Frank Sheridan was her father, then who—?’

‘You have—you had—three sisters, Guy.’

‘Yes, but—’ Guy was aware that he sounded incredulous ‘—you imply that Catherine had Frank Sheridan’s child? But she was only sixteen when she died…She died of a fever—’

‘Childbirth fever,’ the Earl said heavily. Suddenly he looked old and tired. ‘You had no idea, Guy?’

‘Not the least in the world!’ Guy put his glass down. His head was spinning. He had only been twelve when his elder sister had died and had never questioned that the family tragedy had hidden a catastrophe of even greater proportions. It seemed incredible.

‘I can scarce believe it,’ he said slowly. ‘But surely…I mean…could they not have married? Sheridan was wild, but he was not an unsuitable match. Surely he would not have abandoned her!’

The Earl shook his head slowly. ‘That is at the root of the whole tragedy, Guy. Catherine did not tell anyone until near the end and none of us even guessed. Looking back I cannot believe that we were so blind, but it was so. Oh, we knew that she had a tendre for him—Frank Sheridan could charm the birds from the trees—but we had no notion that it had gone any further! Why, she was only sixteen and the sweetest child—’ He broke off. ‘And by the time we found out, Sheridan had set off on one of his harebrained trips abroad. The babe was born and Catherine died whilst he was away.’

Guy stared into the glowing heart of the fire. ‘What happened when Frank Sheridan returned?’