Davina was already in Sara’s chamber making preparations for the bath. “My lady.” She curtsied and helped her scrub every inch of her body until she was practically shining. Afterward she dried her hair by the fireplace while Davina brushed it out, careful not to pull too hard. Davina really did have a way of making Sara feel comfortable and at peace.
By the time her dress arrived, Sara had spent more than a few hours having her face painted and her hair styled. She hadn’t had time to inspect herself in the mirror until she was expected downstairs with Renwick. Davina made her promise to look, so with reluctance, she turned and faced the glass.
Her reflection was unrecognizable, a shadow of her former self. She wore a silver and black trimmed gown which hung loosely to the floor leaving a tiny train in the back. Her neckline plunged lower than any dress she had ever worn, making her worry her bosom would indeed fall out if she were not careful. The back of the dress also cut to the middle of her back, causing her to feel nearly naked. In fact, there was not much difference between her dress and some ladies’ night rails. The thought gave her chills. They would either love her tonight or deem her a courtesan.
She descended the stairs gracefully and awaited the inevitable. If Nicholas responded well, the ton would too.
***
Nicholas hated to admit to himself how much he had missed Sai when he left her this afternoon. Her company was intoxicating, making all other reasons for living pale in comparison to her company. Even though her company was also just as much infuriating as it was intoxicating, he couldn’t help but wish he was near her. The earlier kisses he received from her nearly made him fall to his knees in worship. Her innocent kisses struck a chord in his soul that even he felt scared to acknowledge. Her touch was enough to make him swear undying love, though he was certain she would laugh in his face.
Tonight he chose to wear clothes which would do Sai justice. More than anything, he wanted to look classy, not rakish next to her. Hopefully he chose well. His pantaloons were a bit tighter than decency allowed, but he didn’t mind displaying the parts of his body he had trained well during his boxing days.
He heard Lady Fenton clear her throat and turned around. In that second, his heart ceased to beat. Descending the stairs was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life. He had thought her beautiful before, but now, now it was almost painful to look at her. Helen of Troy would have had to relinquish her title in light of Sai’s breathtaking beauty.
Her eyes shone with delight as she smiled his way. The sight made him want to kidnap her immediately and take her straight to Gretna Green. Surely she knew what a stunning portrait she made, how utterly exquisite. Half the ton would be saying it to her face this evening, so he needn’t add to her embarrassment by lavishing his admiration on her now. But it wasn’t until she was directly in front of him that he realized how scandalous her dress truly was. When he realized the thin material clung effortlessly to her legs, he instantly broke out in a cold sweat. He struggled to break his gaze from her but felt drawn like a moth to flame. In the front her dress dipped so low he would probably spend the better part of the night making sure she didn’t fall out of it, and the remaining part of the night keeping the other gentlemen from feasting on her with their eyes.
Her eyes were dark and lazy; she had the look of a seductress down perfectly. Any man would appreciate the woman in front of him, but Nicholas was distraught. He didn’t want to go to Almack’s with a girl who looked like this. Not only would he again be the focal point of much gossip, but she would, too. His reputation did nothing to aid hers. He cursed silently before offering her his arm. “Shall we?” he choked out, noting that his voice sounded strained.
Sai looked down at her dress then back at him as if she had expected him to say something different. The look on her face revealed hurt feelings, and he noticed her break eye contact quickly, nervously. He opened his mouth to speak, but found the words did not come as easily as he would have liked. Finally he clumsily muttered something like, “You look nice.” He made a concerted effort to keep his tone level, but it came out sounding bored. Her arm stiffened beneath his, but it was beyond him how to fix it. Nicholas knew she would get her fair share of compliments tonight, and for now it was all he could do to manage his own impulse to carry her back up the stairs and help her out of the gown. He definitely was going to have a word with Lady Fenton about Sai’s apparel (or lack thereof); she would be wise not to make a habit of dressing his fiancée in such a fashion. It was not good for her reputation, and honestly, it was even worse for Nicholas’s fury. He didn’t want to have to duel a man tonight just because the gentleman found his betrothed irresistibly attractive.
Another long night awaited him; he could feel it in his bones.
Nicholas spent the better part of the carriage ride reciting Scriptures. It was the only thing he could think to do, so he wouldn’t make an absolute fool of himself. Sai had the unfortunate talent of not only rendering him speechless but also of turning him into a lovesick school boy, barely old enough to ride his own horse. It was unnerving and upsetting to say the least. He was just getting ready to recite John 3:16, when he heard her clear her throat.
“Is there something you wish to discuss, my lady?” he asked in a surprisingly calm voice, nearly fooling himself into thinking he was capable of concentrating on anything other than her bewitching form. Then he made the mistake of looking up into her eyes. Suddenly their confines felt warm and cramped and he had the urge to jump clean out of the moving carriage.
He fingered his cravat nervously, as he waited for her to respond.
Sai quickly shifted to the other side of the carriage where he was sitting, their legs now in definite contact with one another. Looking into her perfect eyes, his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He prayed for strength.“Has anyone ever told you how improper it is to sit next to a gentlemen while riding?”
She harumphed and crossed her arms. “Has anyone ever told you how improper it is to ignore a lady on the night of the second event of her lifetime?”
“You’re nervous.”
“Of course I am!” Her voice wheedled into his consciousness, and his arms took on a mind of their own and wrapped securely around her body.
“You will be perfect. Everyone will love you. I am absolutely sure of it.” He couldn’t help that each word dripped with venom. He meant it, of course, but she didn’t have to know he meant it or the effect she had on him.
He bent to kiss her cheek only to be met with bristling coldness from her eyes and voice.
“How you find ways to compliment and insult me all in one sentence is beyond me, really it is.” She pushed back toward her seat opposite him and gazed out the window, though it was too dark to see anything.
Curse women everywhere! “What do you mean insult you? I truly mean what I say. They will eat you right up, from the extravagantly low cut of your dress to the way it scandalously hugs every delicious curve of your body. Oh, and let’s not forget the way your lips form the perfect pout as if begging for some lovesick gentleman to take them with his own.” He leaned in. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do just fine tonight, Sai. Please just remember we are betrothed.”
Chapter Ten
He was jealous, plain and simple. She would have thought someone of his reputation didn’t experience jealousy, or any human emotion for that matter. How could he after doing the things he’d done? Instead of trying to ravish her, Nicholas was scolding her, punishing her for being something she wasn’t. It was upsetting and aggravating all at the same time! Her stomach clenched as she thought of his reaction to her. It was as if the progress she had thought they made in their friendship was for naught.
Her thoughts turned dark, mainly because the only person she really wanted to pay attention to her was angrily staring out the window as if begging God to send lightning to strike the carriage. If body language was in fact an actual way to communicate, Nicholas’s arms were crossed as he leaned his muscular
torso against the side of the carriage. His brows were furrowed—his lips in a thin line.
Two can play that game, she thought. For the first time in her life, she was tired. Had she not gotten what she desired? To look the part of the sparkling debutante? She subconsciously smoothed down her skirt. It was a painful concept to accept that even if she was beautiful on the outside, it didn’t make her feel whole on the inside. She stuck her tongue out at Nicholas in anger then crossed her arms.
“Saw that,” he said still looking out the window.
“Amazing you can see at all,” she muttered to herself.
She was rewarded with a slight shake of his shoulders to show his laughter. She reminded herself not to make him laugh, his smile made her want to weep. He was beautiful, like a fallen angel. His bright eyes had the ability to pierce right through to her soul. Never mind that his kisses turned her to liquid. No wonder women left their husbands. He was enticing indeed, not that she would ever give into any of his immoral displays of affection. She was, after all, a strong morally upright girl and wasn’t he reformed? It was difficult to tell sometimes. Every time they were alone, he either insulted her or kissed her. Infuriating man.
The carriage jerked to a stop. Nicholas held out his hand as she stepped down from the carriage. “Try not to trip,” he whispered into her ear as they went into Almack’s. People everywhere were dressed in the most famous of fashions. It made her self-conscious enough to look at her own gown to make sure it was still in place.
“I’d tell you if it wasn’t,” Nicholas murmured.
Add mind reading to his list of attributes, she thought, stubbornly jutting her chin into the air. He escorted her to the refreshment table and sat down in a nearby chair. Apparently that’s all he was to do this night, sit and watch her talk with every other available gentleman. Weren’t those who were betrothed supposed to look betrothed? To look happy together, like they were in love? What would people think when they saw him flirting with other women?
Sara had engaged in several conversations about the weather, which nearly bored her to tears, when Sir Rawlings approached and asked her to dance.
“With pleasure,” she accepted with the brightest smile she could muster. It was a slower dance, one which left both partners adequate time to talk and flirt, which she took full advantage of.
If her own betrothed was going to be pigheaded and so full of himself that he would not take notice of her, she wasn’t going to lose sleep over it. As Rawlings made her laugh again, she took a turn and saw Renwick’s cold eyes boring through her. She tripped on her gown but was saved by Rawlings’ hands as he reached out and braced her arms. Looking into his eyes she began to feel like he had cornered her rather than rescued her. Something predatory lurked behind those eyes and it made her uncomfortable.
“Are you all right, Sai?” Rawlings’ voice was laced with fake concern. His hands were still firmly placed on her shoulders moving uncomfortably closer to her chest. Either she was the worst dance partner ever, or he was trying to use her vulnerability for his gain. She shouldn’t allow Nicholas’s strange moods to dictate how she treated others, even if the others she referred to were dogs like Rawlings. It was too unlike her.
If she weren’t already feeling uncomfortable in a man’s arms, she might have tried to apologize, but she bristled over the fact that she had not given Rawlings permission to use her Christian name however fake it was. Only Renwick called her Sai. When he said her name, she thought it sounded exotic, but on Rawlings’ lips it sounded more like the sigh of a wanton woman when cornered in the ballroom. She forced a smile and continued dancing, but Nicholas’s angry stare burned into her back for the rest of the dance.
When Rawlings’ eyes jerked up Sara knew. Nicholas was behind her. He gave Rawlings a curt nod then grabbed Sara by the waist.
“A waltz,” he growled into her ear. She immediately tensed when the music started. She hadn’t danced a waltz in public with Renwick, nor had she ever wanted to. It was too embarrassing. Couldn’t everyone see the way he made her feel? It was suddenly apparent to her that much of the ton was watching them dance rather than dancing themselves. Sara tried to keep a smile on her face but found it difficult to concentrate as her legs kept brushing against his. Oh dear, she thought. This cannot end well. It simply cannot.
Her breathing became more uneven until finally, by the grace of God, the dance ended. She sighed with relief, but not before Renwick leaned down to kiss her hand, and whisper once more into her ear, “You’re mine.”
“So, now I am your possession?” she asked through clenched teeth.
He smiled tensely. “My dear, what else would you be?”
“I hoped to be your wife.”
“Well, I hoped to never marry a manipulative woman of the ton; we can’t always get our way can we?” With that he bowed and motioned for another young gentleman to dance with her. The young man couldn’t have been any older than she and reeked of brandy. Nicholas was punishing her, but what had she ever done to him? None of his accusations were true. He was acting like an absolute cad! How dare he say that she had manipulated her! If anything it was the other way around! He was the one that was continually taking advantage of her by kissing her whenever he had the chance. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have ample opportunity to bridge the gap between them. In fact after looking at her dress it was obvious it would be something any man would find appealing. Even if it was a trifle too elaborate for her tastes. Surely Renwick noticed her? Or she hoped he would at least say something. Instead did he do upon seeing her? He looked down and asked if she was ready! The more she thought about it the more upset she became! Manipulative? What did he base his accusations on? It wasn’t fair of him to judge her based on nothing but his own sick assumptions.
The rest of the night went by so slow that Sara thought she might collapse into a fit of rage. Gentleman after gentleman asked her for a dance. Her feet were so tired, she thought they would fall off, and each man she met whispered into her ear poetry and songs of love. It wasn’t at all what she had expected.
Apparently ugly ducklings could hatch into swans. She just didn’t realize it wasn’t at all as exciting as she had read about in her novels. Most of the men were slightly foxed, if not completely, and let their hands roam a little too freely down the sides of her body. The others she danced with, the ones she at least found agreeable, ended up trying to trick her into going into the gardens with them. Had they no idea she was betrothed? Was this how Nicholas had behaved in order to earn his reputation? The thought dizzied her and the room suddenly began to swim. She needed to escape; she needed to get out of these God forsaken shoes and find fresh air.
Sara ran to the closest door and threw it open, revealing a tiny garden walkway; she hurried down the walkway toward the bench and turned around to see if anyone followed. Nicholas would be furious if he found her out here by herself.
She sat on the bench and let a lone tear escape her eye. Fairy tales were not true; they had it all wrong. It was about time she accepted that, even if now she somehow miraculously had a pretty face and dress, nothing would satisfy her unless she had someone to love her for her heart and the way she laughed. She sighed and threw off a shoe, moaning in ecstasy at the feel of the grass against her stockings. It felt so good she decided to throw off her other shoe.
“Why are you throwing shoes at me?” Nicholas’s deep voice penetrated the darkness. His perfectly chiseled face wore a smug grin that he apparently reserved only for her.
“Oh, I apologize, my lord,” she retorted. “If I had known you were back there, I would have thrown them much harder.”
“Which is why I kept my silence until both shoes were already out of reach of those catapults masquerading as dainty hands.” He sat down, still wearing a smirk, though her tone did cause him to wince. “What are you doing out in the gardens by yourself, and stripping out of your shoes, no less?”
“I should be asking you the same thing, my lord.” He held the s
hoe out to her but pushed her hand out of the way when she reached for it. Instead he laid the shoe effortlessly on the ground next to her exposed stockings. Her face flushed red just thinking about the scandal she caused.
“It’s not scandalous unless you let me see your ankles.”
She smiled.
“Wait. Are you going to let me see your ankles, because if you are—” He laughed.
She liked him this way, easy to talk to, happy. It was better than the brooding mood he seemed to lapse so easily into at the slightest provocation. “You’re happier outside,” she found herself musing.
He sighed. “I’m happier when I’m away from all of that.” He pointed back toward the giant ballroom. “I guess you could say I’ve sowed my wild oats and now want nothing more than to retire to the country like an old man.”