She should never have come here.
But here she was.
Sadie should have lied, said of course she’d stay the night. Of course she’d marry him tomorrow. She was relatively good at lying, had honed her skills on her nannies and governesses and father. Her untruthfulness was one of the reasons there had been such a turnover in the staff as she was growing up. Until Miss Mackenzie, who was built like a stevedore and could swear like one too.
Nothing naughty Sadie did escaped Miss Mackenzie; the least little infraction was always punished. Sadie believed her father had stolen the governess from a women’s prison. She might have even been an inmate for all Sadie knew. Miss Mac was a terror.
And long gone to her reward, wherever that might be.
God hates a liar. Miss Mac’s favorite words as she blistered Sadie’s ruffle-clad behind.
God probably was not all that pleased with Sadie now either. She had caused a commotion running away, frightened her elderly minders, and had not even managed to get anywhere.
What were her chances setting out at night on foot from Sykes House? Sadie peeked out the casement window. There wasn’t even a moon, just a spatter of stars in the velvet-black sky. Her borrowed clothes were in a terrible goat-infused state, and she still had no money.
If she hadn’t been so filthy and exhausted earlier, she would have secreted away a pair of Tristan Sykes’s candlesticks to sell somewhere once she ran away again. He had some lovely things in this little house. Evidently he was a man of some taste and discernment, which was only fitting for an architect and garden designer.
Did he look upon her as a collector might? It was too dark to tell now that he’d blown out the candle. Was she one more pretty thing to put on a shelf? Some men thought that’s all a wife was—a decorative object who was meant to keep her mouth shut and her legs open.
He didn’t really want to marry her either. Why was he so insistent upon it? Just because he was afraid her father would make a stink about Puddling’s propriety and efficacy? No one with any sense would pay attention to her father.
“Fine. I won’t run away again. But you can help me leave.” She could borrow some money instead of steal from him. Once she was on her feet somewhere far, far away from her father, she’d repay him, of course.
“I will do no such thing. I’ve made a promise, and I intend to keep it.”
“Why?” Sadie cried. “Because of this stupid village?”
“‘This stupid village,’ as you call it, depends upon me. I am temporarily the head of its board of governors. It is due to my failing that the life’s blood of Puddling could dry up in an instant.”
“Pshaw,” Sadie said. “My father is a bankrupt.”
“But a well-connected one. He is a duke, Lady Sarah, and dukes have sway, no matter how disappointing and duplicitous they might be. We cannot survive any rumors, my dear. Our unimpeachable reputation has lasted almost eighty years. We’ve done an awful lot of good in that time. I’ll not be the one to let Puddling down.”
“But it’s your life! Your future! We don’t even know one another!” How could he willingly martyr himself to silence her father’s bluster? It wasn’t as if he were a soldier who had to fall on his sword to save his country.
“I’ll manage,” Tristan said shortly. “You will too.”
No. Sadie didn’t want to manage. She wasn’t going to lie underneath a virtual stranger for the convenience of Puddling, no matter how attractive he was.
And she had to admit that Tristan Sykes was a very good-looking man.
But that didn’t matter. She hardly knew him, and he didn’t know her at all. Did he know her favorite color or fruit or what she liked to read?
“I don’t understand you at all,” she said.
Tristan sighed from across the bed. So far, with the exception of trying to console her when she briefly lost her composure, he was keeping a scrupulous distance. “No, I don’t expect you do. We men have our sense of duty and honor beaten into us from the time we’re in leading strings. You ladies may complain the male sex has all the advantages, but there are disadvantages as well.”
She waved a hand between them. “This is all ridiculous.” Although hardly a laughing matter.
“Is it? Marriages have been built on shakier foundations. At least we’ve met.”
“Just a few days ago! We have nothing in common.”
He chuckled. “We don’t know that, do we? We both may be mad for...plum pudding.”
Stir-up Sunday. Sadie used to help with Christmas preparations at the castle, such as they were. Her father had rarely been home for the holiday.
“One cannot live on plum pudding.” She did have an excellent recipe, though.
“Right. It’s much too rich to eat every day. We’d have to buy you a new wardrobe to accommodate your growing avoirdupois if that was all that was on the menu. Well, a wardrobe in any event. You do need one, although you missed your chance today.”
Why was he making fun? Sadie had thought of him as a serious person. A bit boring and stodgy, actually.
She felt herself tearing up in frustration again. Perhaps she should try to go back to sleep. Maybe some sort of miracle would occur tomorrow morning and all this difficulty would disappear. Her father might choke on his toast...
Oh, she would be punished for breaking that pesky respect-your-parents commandment. And truly, she didn’t wish her father ill. She just wanted him to go away and leave her alone.
“You’re crying again!” Tristan accused. He must have particularly acute hearing, since one couldn’t see one’s finger in front of one’s face, it was so dark in the cozy bedchamber.
“Am not.” Sadie sniffled.
“Blast it. Come here.” He patted the space between them as if she were an obedient dog.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
Tristan snorted. “No one in this room is perfectly fine. We’ve both had a wretched day. Let’s make the best of this, shall we?”
“And how do we do that?”
“I think I have to kiss you.”
Sadie’s heart stuttered to a stop. She remembered that last kiss. If one could call it that. She’d wound up on her bottom in the dirt. “I beg your pardon?”
“You know what a kiss is. Our lips will brush against each other oh-so-gently, then still and glory in the touching. You might open your mouth just a little out of curiosity. Our breaths will mingle, and the hair on the back of your neck will rise. You might actually shiver a bit, and I’ll want to warm you. Stroke your shoulders and arms. Cup your cheek. My tongue will enter your mouth and seek yours. You’ll be so surprised when they make the softest contact possible that you’ll forget your troubles and relax in my embrace. Enjoy yourself. Get into the spirit of the thing. Kiss me back. Feel a flood of heat from your scalp to your toes.”
She felt hot right now with his every reasoned word. “Dream on!”
“Well, all right. We won’t kiss, though it seems a great pity. We’ll just go to sleep together. Next to each other. But I don’t trust you not to flee, so I’m afraid—” He stopped talking and got off the bed. Sadie could hear him rummage in the chest of drawers.
“What are you doing? I already said I wouldn’t run away!”
“We all say things we don’t mean, you more than most. Don’t forget, I’ve read your dossier.”
So had Sadie, even if it had been a bit butter-smudged at the baker’s. Talk about a pack of lies. Well, exaggerations. Her father had not stinted in describing her behavior in the worst possible light. No wonder Puddlingites gave her the side-eye as she walked down the five streets on her daily constitutional.
Tristan fiddled with his tinderbox and the candle sprang back to life.
And then Sadie bit back that tongue which was supposed to tangle with his. Dangling from his hand was a set of shiny silver manacles.