The Blanchland Secret

‘A little late for that, my lord, when you were so destructive to my roses!’ Sarah observed sweetly.

He lowered his voice. ‘Was your cousin very displeased? If only you had vouchsafed your name and direction, Miss Sheridan, I could have escorted you back here and apologised to her!’

Sarah knew he was trying provoke her by reminding her of the set-down she had given him. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she repressed it ruthlessly.

‘You know that that would scarcely have been appropriate, my lord! As for Amelia, she was a little dismayed. She is the dearest creature, but even she cannot concoct a red, white and blue flower arrangement without the red!’

‘Ah, I see. The patriotic theme?’

‘Precisely so!’ Despite herself, Sarah found that they were smiling together. Guy was sitting forward, his entire attention focused on her in a most flattering manner. It was very disconcerting.

‘I am so very sorry that I did not recognise you when we met earlier, Miss Sheridan,’ he said softly, ‘but how was I to know that the gawky schoolgirl I used to know had grown into such a beautiful woman? Such a transformation is enough to throw a fellow completely!’

Sarah felt a blush rising at the teasing note in his voice. There was admiration in the look he gave her; admiration and a more disturbing emotion. It seemed astonishing that she could be sitting here in Amelia’s drawing-room with a gentleman she had just met again for the first time in thirteen years, and be feeling this intoxicating and entirely improper stirring of the senses.

‘You are outrageous, sir!’ she said, to cover her confusion. ‘I believe you have not altered one whit!’

‘Oh, you must allow me a little improvement!’ Guy looked at her with mock-reproof. ‘At the very least, I am taller than when you last saw me!’

‘That was not at all what I meant! It seems to me that you were always given to the most excessive flattery! Why, I distinctly remember you practising your charms on my grandmother! She professed herself scandalised that one so young should be so adept at flirtation!’

‘Well, I’ll concede that I was ever inclined to practise on susceptible ladies!’ Guy said lazily. ‘You may find, however, that my scandalous behaviour has developed in other directions since then!’

Sarah was sure that he was correct and it seemed likely that the type of outrageous behaviour indulged in by a man of nine and twenty was infinitely more dangerous to her than that of a youth primarily obsessed with practical jokes.

‘I do not doubt it, sir! Pray do not furnish me with the details, it would not be at all proper!’

‘But then I am not at all proper,’ Guy said ruefully. ‘Though, to my regret, I believe you to be a very pattern-card of correctness, Miss Sheridan!’

‘So I should hope! Pray do not pursue this line of conversation, sir!’

‘Must I not?’ There was a look of limpid innocence on Guy’s face. ‘I was presuming that our previous acquaintance would allow a certain informality—’

‘Informality!’ Sarah realised that she had raised her voice when she caught Amelia’s look of curiosity. She hastily dropped her tone again. ‘You presume too much, my lord!’

Guy shrugged, gracefully conceding defeat. Sarah had the distinct impression that it would only be a temporary reversal. She cast around for a safe change of subject. Genteel Bath society had scarcely prepared her for dealing with so flagrant a flirtation. She plumped for something she hoped would be innocuous.

‘I understand that you had been abroad for some years, sir. Your family must be eager to see you after all this time.’

Guy took her lead courteously, though there was a flash of amusement in his eyes that told her he knew she was trying to deflect him.

‘Yes, indeed,’ he said agreeably. ‘I was serving with Wellesley in the Peninsula for four years and only returned because my father’s health has deteriorated and he needs my help at Woodallan.’

‘I am sorry to hear of the Earl’s ill health,’ Sarah said, concerned. ‘I hope that it is not too serious?’

For once the humour dropped away from Guy’s expression and he looked sombre. ‘I hope so, too, Miss Sheridan, but I fear the worst. It is very unlike him to admit that he needs my help, but he has intimated that he wishes me to take on more of the running of Woodallan and the other estates…’ He made an effort to try for a lighter note. ‘No doubt my mother will be glad to see me back—she has been cursing Bonaparte these four years past for prolonging the war!’

‘It is several years since I saw your parents, although your mother and I still write,’ Sarah said, with a smile. ‘She told me in her last letter that she had high hopes of your swift return. She is kind—she sent me a very sympathetic letter when my father died.’

She looked up, to see Guy watching her. For all his levity, those dark eyes were disconcertingly perceptive. ‘It must have been a difficult time for you,’ he said gently. ‘You must have been very young, no more than nineteen, I imagine? And then to lose your brother and your home in such quick succession…’

Sarah’s mind immediately flew to Blanchland again. It seemed strange that she had so completely forgotten about Frank’s letter during the past few minutes. She had lost a brother, but it appeared that she had gained a niece. What sort of a girl would Miss Olivia Meredith prove to be? Her letter had been very neat and proper, the writing of a young lady educated at one of Oxford’s more select seminaries. But how to find her? She had to concoct a plan…

Sarah realised that Guy was still watching her, his searching gaze intent on her face. It made her feel oddly breathless.

‘I beg your pardon. I was thinking of home…’ She tried to gather her thoughts and steer away from further confidences. ‘Yes, I thank you…It was a difficult time.’

‘And now you reside with Lady Amelia?’ Guy smiled, looking across at where Amelia and Greville were engrossed in conversation, her chestnut curls brushing his shoulder as she bent forward confidingly. ‘I imagine that must be quite amusing!’

Sarah laughed. ‘Oh, I have been most fortunate! Amelia’s society is always stimulating and she has been as generous as a sister to me!’

Guy lowered his voice. ‘Do you think she will ever put Grev out of his misery and accept his suit, Miss Sheridan?’

It was a surprisingly personal question. Sarah raised her eyebrows a little haughtily and saw him grin in response.

‘I beg your pardon, Miss Sheridan, if you think me impertinent. I am only concerned for my friend’s future happiness, for I know he holds Lady Amelia in high esteem. But perhaps you think me presumptuous—again?’

Sarah unbent a little. ‘There is nothing I would like more than to see them make a match of it, my lord. I have been promoting the alliance these two years past! Alas, Amelia is not susceptible to my arguments!’

‘Nor to Greville’s, it would seem,’ Guy said, shifting a little in his chair. ‘And you, Miss Sheridan? No doubt you have many suitors! I should be glad to have happy news of your own situation to take back to Woodallan with me!’

If the previous question had been bold, this one took Sarah’s breath away. Once again there was a teasing light in his eyes, daring her to give him the snub he deserved.

‘I shall be happy for you to tell your family that I am in good health and spirits,’ she said, with a very straight face, ‘and to give them all my very best wishes!’

Guy did not seem discomposed. His smile broadened with appreciation. ‘I shall take that as encouragement for my own hopes then, ma’am!’

‘You should not do so, my lord,’ Sarah said crushingly. ‘I had not the least intention of encouraging you!’

‘I was thinking that the gentlemen of Bath must all be slow-tops,’ Guy said, apparently undaunted by her coldness, ‘but now I perceive that you are very high in the instep, Miss Sheridan! Your good opinion is not easily gained!’

‘Certainly not by an acknowledged rake who carelessly destroys my roses!’ Sarah said coolly. ‘Pray do not repine, however, my lord! There are any number of young ladies in Bath who would be delighted to flirt with you!’

‘Minx!’ his lordship said, with feeling. ‘I have to tell you that I have no interest in them, Miss Sheridan!’

‘Indeed?’ Sarah hesitated over administering yet another set-down to him in a single day. She had the feeling that it would be inviting trouble.

‘Naturally I do not include you in their company, ma’am! Will you dance with me at your cousin’s ball tomorrow night?’

Sarah raised her eyebrows again. There was no doubt that Viscount Renshaw possessed a most persistent and provocative disposition, and that he was deliberately trying to incite a reaction.

‘It is not certain that I shall attend, sir,’ she said, still cool. ‘I have other plans—’

His eyes danced with a secret amusement. ‘Oh, surely you would not disappoint your cousin, ma’am? Shall I appeal to her to persuade you?’ He glanced across at Amelia and Greville, still deep in conversation.

‘Pray do not disturb them,’ Sarah said hastily, aware that her colour had risen again. It was an understood thing that she would be present at Amelia’s ball, for it would be the highlight of Bath’s winter season. She suspected that Guy had guessed as much. His amused gaze rested on her face, moving over each feature with slow deliberation. Sarah felt inordinately uncomfortable under that observant scrutiny.

The clock chimed.

‘Oh!’ Amelia got hastily to her feet. ‘I do beg your pardon, gentlemen! I am promised to Mrs Chartley’s card party! Pray excuse me or I shall be very late!’

Greville and Guy stood up, Greville offering his escort to Amelia, who accepted prettily.

Guy took Sarah’s hand and pressed a kiss on it. ‘I am sure we shall see you this evening, Miss Sheridan. Do you go to the dance at the Pump Room?’

‘Oh, yes, we shall be there!’ Amelia said cheerfully, seeming blissfully unaware that her cousin was about to deny it. She gave Guy Renshaw a melting smile. ‘It is the last public dance of the year, you know! But how charming to be able to see you again so soon, Lord Renshaw!’

Guy bowed. ‘The pleasure will be all mine, Lady Amelia! Your servant, Miss Sheridan!’

They all went out together. Sarah watched from the window as the Viscount parted from Greville and Amelia with a casual word and a smile. She was aware of a certain conflict inside her and a faint disappointment. Guy Renshaw was a charming man and he had made his admiration for her very plain, but he was also a dangerous flirt who probably did not mean a word of it. It would be very foolish to read anything into his behaviour and even more imprudent to allow an unexpected physical attraction to disturb her.

Besides, he would be leaving Bath in a couple of days and so would she. Abruptly, Sarah remembered her commitment to visit Blanchland, and felt depression settle on her. She did not want to see what Ralph Covell had done to her beloved family home, nor to become embroiled in the problems of Frank’s natural daughter, nor to ruin her own reputation in the process. Amelia was quite right—she must be mad. And Churchward had even offered her a way out by suggesting that an agent could represent her interests, yet for some reason she had chosen not to take it…

Sarah felt the beginnings of a headache stir. Since she had resolved on this rash course of action, she must at least plan how to accomplish it with a minimum of fuss. Blanchland was less than a day’s journey from Bath, and if she were fortunate she would be able to find Miss Meredith quickly, discover the girl’s difficulties and instruct Churchward on the best way to resolve them. The whole matter could be decided in a week—ten days at the outside. And no one need ever know.

The presence of Viscount Renshaw and Sir Greville Baynham caused quite a stir at the Pump Room that night. Sir Greville, whose family home was a few miles north of the city, had always been a universal favourite, with several young ladies expressing themselves willing to console him if Lady Amelia refused his suit. The Viscount caused an even greater commotion, being fortunate enough to be rich, handsome and heir to an Earl into the bargain.

It was a clear, starry night, and Sarah and Amelia had walked the short distance from Brock Street to the Pump Room, enjoying the fresh chill of the night air that brought the colour to their cheeks and made their eyes sparkle. As they handed over their cloaks and Amelia cast a thoughtful look over her cousin, Sarah saw her smile of approval.

‘How pretty you look, Sarah! I would not have dreamed of saying anything before, but I am so glad you have cast off that hideous half-mourning!’

She saw Sarah’s expression and added hastily, ‘I know you were a most devoted sister to Frank, my love, but surely you are too young to wear black forever?’

Sarah could feel her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile. Milly could be amazingly tactless at times.

‘I know the black was ageing,’ she agreed mildly, ‘but surely the lavender became me a little?’

Amelia looked contrite. ‘Oh, sweetly pretty, my love, but for a whole year? And even then you habitually chose drab colours that are nothing to this delicious rose tint you are wearing now!’ She cast her cousin a sideways look. ‘I did wonder whether the advent of Viscount Renshaw was the reason for your sudden—’

‘Oh, look, Milly, it is Mr Tilbury and his sister!’ Sarah was aware that she had never shown much inclination for the Tilburys’ company before now, but felt she had to distract her cousin. Amelia, however, was far too determined for that.

‘Yes, I fear we will be in for much the same company as ever tonight, especially with it being the end of the season! As I was saying, it is fortunate that Greville has brought that charming man, Guy Renshaw, with him! I declare, Bath society seldom offers the opportunity to meet so prodigiously attractive a gentleman!’

Sarah knew that she was blushing and prayed that it could be put down to the heat of the room after the cold outside. She would never have admitted to Amelia that she had spent twice as long as usual at her toilette and agonised between the rose pink and the aquamarine silk. Sarah had been aware of a growing sense of anticipation all afternoon, and found that she was feeling quite nervous as she and Amelia entered the ballroom. She experienced an altogether unfamiliar sensation of breathlessness, her heart suddenly racing and butterflies fluttering frantically in her stomach. Her slender fingers tightened on her fan. This was ridiculous! Good gracious, she was very nearly in a fit of panic, and all because of Guy Renshaw, who had once put a toad on her dining-chair!

She could see Guy across the ballroom, deep in conversation with Greville and attracting considerable attention from the female guests. The reason was not hard to seek: the classical good looks of the Woodallan family, combined with the immaculate black and white of the evening dress, made him look extremely handsome and ever-so-slightly dangerous.

‘Half my female acquaintance have already heard that the Viscount called on us earlier and have begged an introduction,’ Amelia was saying, with a giggle. ‘I declare, we have not seen so much excitement in an age!’ She linked her arm through Sarah’s and the cousins walked slowly down the edge of the ballroom.

‘Greville looks very handsome tonight,’ Sarah observed, giving Amelia a meaningful look. ‘Not even Lord Renshaw can put him in the shade!’

‘Oh, Grev looks very well,’ Amelia said, so carelessly that Sarah wanted to shake her, ‘and I am very fond of him, of course, but in a brotherly sort of way!’

‘A favourite brother, perhaps,’ Sarah said tartly.

Amelia cast her a look from under her lashes. ‘Oh Sarah, do I treat him so badly? I do not mean to!’

‘You know you do not value him as you ought! Greville would never lose all his money at cards, or drink himself into oblivion the way your late husband did—’

‘No…’ Amelia sighed soulfully ‘…Alan was such exciting company!’

Sarah sighed. In her opinion, Alan Fenton had been a wastrel with nothing to commend him, and she could never understand why Amelia appeared to value his dashing looks over Greville’s integrity. They were almost upon Sir Greville now and she saw the glad light that sprang into his blue eyes as he looked at Amelia. It was too bad.

‘Miss Sheridan.’ Guy Renshaw took her hand, his touch evoking much the same shiver of awareness as it had done earlier in the day, and Sarah was instantly distracted. ‘You look delightful. I would ask you to dance, but I fear that the excitement of the minuet might be too much for me!’

Sarah looked reproving. ‘I know you find our entertainments dull, my lord, but there are country dances after eight, if that is your preference!’

‘What, no waltzes?’

‘Oh, the waltz is much too fast for Bath!’

‘A pity! Perhaps I shall have to settle for a country dance after all, if you will so honour me. In the meantime, do you care for a little supper?’

‘Thank you.’ Sarah let him take her arm and steer her away from the others and into the refreshment room. He helped her to a seat in a secluded alcove, then crossed to the buffet table, where several young ladies immediately gravitated towards him and one of them artfully drew him into conversation over the merits of the strawberries.

Behind a pillar to Sarah’s right, the young ladies’ mamas were watching with gimlet eyes. Sarah tried not to listen, but at least half of her wanted to eavesdrop on their conversation. She was no cynic, but she knew that despite the pungent denunciation they would inevitably make of Guy’s character, either would marry him off to their daughter with triumphant haste.

‘A shocking reputation, Mrs Bunton, quite shocking!’

‘Really, Mrs Clarke? Just how shocking would you say it is?’

‘Oh, quite dreadful! Of course, that was before he went to the War—perhaps the rigors of campaign have instilled some respectability…but I doubt it!’

‘Once a rake—’ Mrs Bunton said meaningfully.

‘Though marriage to a good woman may redeem him, of course!’

Both ladies paused, evidently dwelling on the benefits of a match with their particular daughter.

‘They say that Lady Melville was his mistress for a whole year—’

‘Oh, yes, I had heard that, too! A most impassioned liaison, by all accounts!’

‘And then there was the business of Lady Paget—’

‘Dreadful! They say her husband never recovered! But the family is rich, of course,’ Mrs Clarke said, as if in mitigation, ‘and rumour has it that Woodallan wishes him to settle down.’

‘Emma could do worse…’

‘Much worse…Or your own dear Agatha, though they say Lord Renshaw prefers blondes…’

It was perhaps fortunate that Guy chose that moment to extract himself from the bevy of debutantes and return to Sarah, whose ears were becoming quite pink from what she had been obliged to hear. His observant dark gaze did not miss her high colour; as he put the loaded plate before her, he gave her a wicked grin.

‘Dear me, Miss Sheridan, whatever can have caused you such discomfort? You look positively overset!’

‘I am very well,’ Sarah snapped, trying to keep her voice discreetly low, ‘just embarrassed at having been obliged to overhear a rehearsal of your amours, sir! It is well that you will be leaving Bath soon, you have caused such a flutter in the dovecotes!’

‘Good gracious, I had no idea you could be so frank, Miss Sheridan!’ Guy said admiringly, eyeing her outraged face with amusement. ‘To bring yourself to mention such matters! I was fair and far out in thinking you a prim Bath miss!’

‘I am prim! That is why I am so agitated!’ Sarah took a steadying draught of champagne. ‘I do not think it wise for you to distinguish me with your attentions, my lord!’

‘Why not?’ Guy looked genuinely hurt. ‘Because you are so respectable and I am not? But you see, Miss Sheridan—’ he lowered his voice ‘—I am very grateful for the condescension you are showing me! Your respectability cannot but help improve my shocking reputation, you see! If the good ladies of Bath see that you are prepared to bear me company, perhaps they will not think me so bad after all!’

‘Nonsense! You speak a deal of nonsense, sir!’

Their eyes met and Guy smiled, the lightness of his tone belied by the intensity of his gaze.

‘Very well, if you don’t like my nonsense, perhaps the truth will serve instead! I have the oddest feeling, Miss Sheridan…’ his fingers brushed the back of Sarah’s wrist lightly but with a touch that seemed to burn her ‘…that we are kindred spirits, despite our differences…or perhaps because of them…’

Very deliberately Sarah freed herself and took a mouthful of food, glad that the hand that held the fork was so steady. Her heart was racing at his touch, so light, but so confusing. He was still watching her with that disconcerting mix of speculation and challenge.

‘Tell me, Miss Sheridan, have you never wished for any excitement?’

Damn the man, would he never change the subject? Sarah felt acutely vulnerable. Just how far was he going to press this particular topic?

‘My life is quite exciting enough, I thank you, my lord.’ Her voice was quite calm. ‘I have my books and my letters and my friends. There are concerts here at the Pump Room and if the weather is fine I may promenade in the park!’

‘It sounds a positive orgy of entertainment,’ Guy murmured, his eyes mocking her above the rim of his glass. ‘Have you never been to London?’

‘No, I have not.’

‘You had no come-out, like other debutantes? No…’ he looked at her thoughtfully ‘…I suppose your father died before you were old enough, and then your brother was too wrapped up in his travelling…’

‘I liked living in the country,’ Sarah said truthfully, ‘and Bath is very pleasant.’

‘That’s certainly true. All joking aside, it seems a delightful place. But have you no wish to recapture your youth?’

‘I was not aware that I had yet lost my youth, sir,’ Sarah said tartly. ‘I am scarce in my dotage!’

‘How refreshing to meet a young lady who does not think she is at her last prayers! So you consider that you still have plenty of time to throw your bonnet over the windmill!’

‘What an extraordinary idea!’ Sarah could not help smiling in return. ‘I assure you I have no intention of doing so, my lord!’

‘Ah, well, who can say?’ Guy raised his dark eyebrows. ‘Look at you this evening, Miss Sheridan, giving countenance to a rake!’

‘I scarcely think that I am giving you countenance, my lord!’

‘Maybe not, but I notice that you do not dispute the other half of my statement!’ There was a teasing note in Guy’s voice.

‘As to that, I cannot say.’ Sarah spoke with equanimity. ‘Nor,’ she added quickly, seeing the spark of devilment in his eyes, ‘do I have any ambition to find out!’

‘What a sensible lady you are, Miss Sheridan,’ Guy murmured. ‘So measured, so composed! Lady Amelia must find you a positive paragon of a companion!’

Remembering the concern she was currently causing her cousin, who had wasted another twenty minutes earlier that afternoon trying to persuade her against her trip to Blanchland, Sarah could not agree with him. She was almost glad to see the ponderous figure of Mr Tilbury approaching to request a dance. Guy did not demur when she excused herself and Sarah was annoyed that this should be so, then was even more irritated with herself for so out-of-character contrariness. She watched Guy performing a succession of country dances with Bath’s most eligible debutantes and told herself that she did not care in the least.

Guy presented himself a little late for his promised dance with her for he appeared to have had difficulty in tearing himself away from his previous partner, the extremely young and pretty Miss Bunton. Sarah discovered that this engendered in her a feeling of acute vexation akin to indigestion, the like of which she had never experienced before. She had to fight a hard battle with herself in order to greet him civilly, and was mortified to see the sardonic light in his eye that suggested he had seen and noted her reaction. Sarah was obliged to remind herself yet again that she had only met the man that very day and could have neither interest in nor opinion on his behaviour. Nevertheless, she kept her gaze averted from his, for she had the lowering suspicion that he could read her mind.