Chapter Nine

 

Unlike her sister-in-law, Sarah had spent a good deal of the day trying to put the thought of the Earl of Burnleigh and his imminent appearance at Cranleigh entirely out of her mind. In previous weeks she had avoided all thoughts of the impending gathering by throwing herself into her removal to Ashworth, which had proven to be less unsettling than she had feared it might be,

In the first place, she loved the house itself. The warm brick manor house with its many windows and cozy rooms was far more welcoming than Cranleigh. She loved the distant view of the sea afforded by the windows in her bedchamber and the library. In fact, once she had arranged all her books and a few favorite pieces of furniture, Sarah realized that she felt happier and more comfortable than she had felt in a long time. To be sure, she had lived her entire life at Cranleigh, and she and her grandmother had overseen the running of the great house, but neither her brother nor her father had ever allowed her to feel that she was more than a temporary inhabitant there, a fixture until she was married off.

When Rosalind had come to Cranleigh, Sarah’s sense of being extraneous had only deepened, so it was with great relief that Sarah crossed her own threshold, secure in the knowledge that she belonged and that she and only she had the right to be there. The house was solely her responsibility. She actually looked forward to seeing to its upkeep and all the repairs that were needed after it had stood empty for so long, and she threw herself into a myriad of tasks with more interest and vigor than she had felt for some time.

But as always, her delightful solitude was short-lived. In the end Harold had given in, not that he truly had any choice, and allowed her to move, provided she return to mingle with the guests so as not to appear too eccentric. Sarah’s attendance at Cranleigh had been required the very instant the first guests had arrived, and she had been given the responsibility of looking after Lady Edgecumbe and her two daughters.

Lady Edgecumbe was not so bad as Sarah had expected. Unlike Harold’s and Rosalind’s other fashionable acquaintance, she could not have cared less about the ton. Descending from her enormous traveling coach, clad in a carriage dress that even Sarah had recognized as being outmoded, she had given Sarah one quick appraising look, announcing in a forthright manner, “You look as though you have some sense about you; tell me, do they rotate the crops here at Cranleigh or let the fields lie fallow for a year?”

Lady Edgecumbe’s manner was somewhat rough, and her constant interrogation could be a trifle exhausting, but in the main, Sarah had found her to be a great deal better than she had feared. At least the woman wished to discuss something seriously, even if agriculture remained the single topic of her conversation.

The two of them had rubbed along in a tolerably companionable manner as Sarah, though not as enthralled by husbandry as her guest, was sufficiently knowledgeable to converse intelligently with her. The daughters, on the other hand, were another matter. Great awkward girls both of them, Cordelia and Lucinda had inherited their mother’s coarse features, high color, and sense of self-importance. They, however, also possessed some pretension to fashion and were delighted to discover that Sarah was far less conversant with the ton than they. Rosalind had not been entirely correct in labeling them bluestockings, for their lack of social graces stemmed from a complete absence of wit and a tendency to talk at length about their own concerns rather than any interest in more erudite matters.

Both of them, in addition to having frequented the local assemblies in Buckinghamshire, had, had a Season and were consequently more than happy to patronize their less worldly hostess with stories of their flirtations and their conquests. Unfashionable though she might be, Sarah was well enough aware of the refined tastes of the ton to be certain that the Edgecumbe girls had probably not been accorded all the admiration they considered their due, but she did not challenge their superiority, allowing them instead to think that she believed entirely their overblown estimation of their social success.

In fact, Sarah was more amused than anything else at the airs of Lucinda and Cordelia, whose overbearing attitudes only added to their physical gracelessness. Galling though it was to acknowledge it, Sarah admitted to herself that living with Rosalind had taught her what to expect from a true incomparable.

Sarah had also been mildly diverted at the sight of the obvious and utterly useless lures the girls had thrown in the chevalier’s direction the moment he had arrived. His lack of enthusiasm was plain to see, but he had borne their assault with good grace, and his Gallic charm was such that neither Cordelia nor Lucinda was aware that he was anything but delighted to lavish attention on them. Observing all this, Sarah could only imagine the effect the Earl of Burnleigh’s presence would have on the two of them.

To be sure, the chevalier was good-looking enough with his mobile countenance and dark eyes that gazed with intense concentration and appreciation when he was addressing someone. However, the effect he had, Sarah knew from personal experience, was nothing like that of Lord Farringdon.

She was provided with ample opportunity that evening to reconsider the effect of Lord Farringdon as he was present at dinner, and, though he was seated at the far end of the long mahogany table, Sarah was immediately and uncomfortably aware of his presence. Even Rosalind had not dared to seat him on her right, which was reserved for the Duke of Coltishall, but he was not far away, placed as close to the marchioness as possible and next to the duke’s retiring daughter, Lady Amelia.

The Earl of Burnleigh was no less magnetic now than he had been before at Tredington. It was not just that the man presented such a pleasing appearance. Sarah was not one to be impressed by his athletic physique or the bold good looks conferred by a firm jaw, high cheek bones, and enigmatic gray eyes under dark brows. It was the energy and alertness about the man that caught her attention and set him apart from the rest of the world.

There was no doubt about Lord Farringdon’s legendary charm. Sarah observed even Lady Edgecumbe’s rugged features soften into smiles and laughter as he had led her into dinner. Now Lady Amelia was speaking to him in the most confiding manner. Sarah knew for a fact that that young woman only conversed in monosyllables, if at all, even when addressed by someone as unalarming as Sarah. Earlier that evening, exhausted by her agricultural discussions with Lady Edgecumbe and out of patience with the petty vanity of her daughters, Sarah had done her best to make Lady Amelia feel welcome, but the girl was so shy it had been a considerable effort. Each question had been more difficult than the last, and Sarah found it impossible to sustain a conversation when the other participant responded with a soft yes or no. It was, therefore, with a great deal of curiosity mixed with a begrudging admiration that she watched the Earl of Burnleigh put the young lady at her ease, enough to elicit a smile from her and eventually conversation that was almost animated. There was no doubt that the man had considerable address, Sarah remarked to herself as he turned to answer a question posed by Lady Edgecumbe in a manner that made her outrageously turbaned head nod vigorously in approval.

Mesmerized against her will and fascinated by this adroitness, she became a reluctant spectator as Lord Farringdon entertained the females at his end of the table, So engrossed was Sarah by the entire performance that she was less alert than usual, and the earl, glancing up from his companions for a moment, caught her in mid-stare.

Alistair, inured to languishing looks and plaintive sighs from females of every age and rank, was somewhat taken aback. Here was a woman observing him, not as though she were attracted to him, but as though he were a rather curious scientific specimen. However, his ever-present sense of the absurd asserted itself and he quirked one dark eyebrow humorously at her.

To her consternation, Sarah felt a hot blush rising to her face, but she too was struck by the ridiculousness of the situation—really the man had no shame—and an answering smile, quickly and ruthlessly suppressed, tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“And what did you think of the article in The Edinburgh Review on the government of India,” a pleasant cultured voice broke into Sarah’s disordered thoughts.

She started, colored even more fiercely, and turned to the vicar, who was regarding her with a twinkle in his eyes. “A rare treat for us rustics to observe the ton at such a near remove, is it not?” he remarked, nodding in the direction of the gay little group at the end of the table. By this time Rosalind, unable to bear the loss of the earl’s attention for more than a few minutes, was entertaining her immediate dinner partners and those within earshot such as Lord Farringdon with a scintillating recitation of the latest on-dits.

“Yes, I suppose, if one is diverted by that sort of thing,” was Sarah’s bemused reply. How utterly embarrassing! It was bad enough that such useless fribbles as Lord Farringdon should even attract her attention, much less to a degree that was noticeable to her longtime friend, the Reverend Thaddeus Wit-son. It was the vicar who had shown her how many other things there were in the world on which to focus her energy and intellect besides the social milieu, and it was he, along with Lady Willoughby, who had made Sarah feel as though she was a person of value in spite of her distaste for the flirting and coquetry at the local assemblies. Thaddeus Witson had devoted hours of his time to her education long after her governess had departed. That he should catch her gawking like the veriest schoolgirl at a man who from all accounts had quite enough women lavishing attention on him already, was disconcerting in the extreme.

Sternly calling herself to task, Sarah turned to her dinner partner. “Yes, I did read the article, though I confess to being no more enlightened now as to the management of India than before, though I do feel it imperative to employ indigenous peoples in that endeavor as much as possible.”

Thaddeus smiled warmly at her. “Certainly that is an opinion that does you great credit.” And thus, safely over the awkward moment, the two of them launched into a spirited political discussion so absorbing to them both that the rest of the party receded into the background. Alistair, stealing another glance down the table at the woman who had subjected him to such a cool appraisal, discovered himself completely ignored as she immersed herself deep in earnest colloquy with the scholarly looking gentleman seated to her left.

Everyone else around the earl was speaking with more or less animation to their fellows, but somehow the particular conversation he was now observing appeared to be different from the others. Where those around him were desultory, this was intense, the topic obviously of a serious nature and entirely absorbing to both of them. Unlike so many other exchanges he had witnessed over the years, the lady in this one was as fully engaged as the gentleman. Ordinarily, it seemed to Alistair that in conversations between the men and women of the ton the male expounded while the female nodded encouragingly, smiling where appropriate. It was either that or a female who chattered flirtatiously to an admiring masculine audience. This interchange, however, appeared to be a true trading of ideas with the lady as involved as the gentleman and, more unusual yet, each one stopped to listen respectfully to the other.

His interest fairly caught, Alistair resolved to drift closer to the pair when they adjourned to the drawing room for, from the look of it, they were immersed in a debate that was likely to continue for some time, and he was most curious to hear what the lady had to say.

However, when the men joined the ladies in the drawing room, Lady Sarah—Alistair had at least remembered the identity of the observant young lady—was deep in conversation with Lady Edgecumbe. Edging closer to the two women, the earl could just catch the words of the older woman. “... rotate the crops in each field and I would highly encourage you to do the same,” as well as the reply. “Yes, we do that at Cranleigh, but it is difficult to convince the older farmers of the wisdom of that practice no matter how effective it is proven to be. I do ride out to discuss it with them, but...”

“But they are a thick-headed lot.” Lady Edgecumbe snorted.

Alistair seized the moment of silence following her remark to interrupt. “And as I recall from my previous visit in this neighborhood, Lady Sarah, you are an exceptionally fine horsewoman. Tell me, do you still have your Ajax? He was a most impressive animal as I remember.”

Sarah was taken aback that the earl should insinuate himself into the conversation without so much as a by-your-leave. The nerve of the man was incredible! He seemed to think that she was as readily bowled over by good looks and easy address as her sister-in-law and the Edgecumbe girls, all of whom were watching Lord Farringdon’s every move with varying degrees of obviousness. Still, she could not help being impressed, and even the tiniest bit flattered that he remembered her. “Why, thank you,” she replied coolly. “Yes, I still have Ajax, who remains a most loyal and excellent mount.” Sarah calmly surveyed the earl, refusing to initiate further conversation. If the man wished to intrude upon them, then let him take responsibility for the discussion.

He did. After a brief appreciative glance at Sarah—the lady appeared to be awake on all suits—Alistair launched into a series of informed remarks and questions concerning estates and their management. Soon the conversation was flowing as smoothly as if it had never been interrupted.

It was some time before Sarah noticed what had happened, and not until the middle of her description of draining a field at Cranleigh a few years back that she realized that somehow, instead of ending their discussion, the earl was actually enlivening it. He did have an inquiring mind and a felicitous turn of phrase that seemed to inspire even Lady Edgecumbe into something like vivacity. Loath though she was to admit it, Sarah became aware that she was actually enjoying herself.

For his part, Alistair was equally struck. He did feel inordinately pleased with himself for having won over the most difficult person in the room. Having interpreted, with a fair degree of accuracy, Sarah’s initial categorization of him as a creature of the ton, he had set out to prove to her that she could not dismiss him so easily. Oh, he could tell that she disapproved of him as a rake and a libertine, and she did not consider him worthy of serious attention, and he could not help being irked by it. That she should so obviously look down on him, and then equally obviously enjoy the company of the unassuming vicar made her something of a challenge to Lord Farringdon.

Besides, the earl was tired of women hanging on his every word and trying to entrap him into intimate conversations. There was something about Sarah that appealed to Alistair. She appeared so serene, so quietly self-assured among the rest of the ladies, all of whom were vying for attention in one way or another. Glancing around to check on everyone else’s reactions, laughing or smiling, always with an eye to who was observing, they never let their gazes settle on anyone for more than a second. And in the midst of all this was Lady Sarah Melford, quietly and unconcernedly being herself.

Alistair could not immediately call to mind anyone, especially a woman, who demonstrated such an air of self-possession, and he found it rather attractive. He had been taken by it, in fact, from the moment he had entered the drawing room. To be sure, his pride, piqued by a woman who was visibly unimpressed by him, had also urged him into speaking to her, but it was more than that. For some inexplicable reason Lord Farringdon wanted to become acquainted with Lady Sarah in a way that was deeper and most unlike his customary flirtatious relationships with women. As he conversed with her, the Earl of Burnleigh resolved privately to discover more about her customary habits so as to seek out Lady Sarah at moments when they were not being so closely and critically observed by everyone.