Sarina ignored the storm currently beating against her window; the middle of April had only brought with it more rain. She was tired of the cold rain and wished to walk along London’s streets, to stretch her legs and let the brisk air order her thoughts.
And cool her desire.
The previous weeks had been spent running from Almack’s to soiree to ball. And while she’d enjoyed every moment, the laughter and the dancing and the friends, now, as she sat on her window seat, a book forgotten on her lap, Sarina acknowledged how empty it all was. A superficial excitement, easily forgotten as the carriage had brought her home. A ready diversion she eagerly embraced to help her ignore, well, everything.
But the ache within her had only grown. Physical, yes, her body craved hands and mouths and lips and tongues. Begged for the pleasure only Liam and Prescott brought her. More than that, however, Sarina longed to simply see them again. To experience the warmth Prescott’s smile brought or the way she automatically grinned in return when Liam smiled at her.
She missed them.
Even staying in that cottage for three full days, laughing and loving, hadn’t been enough. Sarina wanted more. Wanted that always. In fact, she’d stayed so long, and without Lydia, Sarina had already decided to give her lady’s maid a very generous bonus come both her birthday and Christmas.
The flush of love and need she’d felt hadn’t left her until she’d returned to London and was confronted with her cousins. And with each passing day, with every moment she remained here, Maryanne and Henrietta constantly pestering for her to announce marriage to Oliver, Sarina wanted them so much more.
Oliver. He’d be arriving for tea soon, and she had to make a decision. A choice—help him retain the Hawksmoor legacy or marry for love.
Sarina licked her lips and watched the rain trail sadly down her windowpane. She’d heard Miss Rose Ainsworth had been at Almack’s, but had not chanced to see the other woman. Sarina had searched for her nearly the entire night, but had learned she’d arrived, seemingly energetic, then left shortly thereafter. No one knew why. At least no one spoke of it, which was slightly more telling.
Miss Ainsworth either had quite loyal friends, or whatever the scandal that fluttered around her had been quite firmly kept under wraps.
Sarina envied such devotion.
“Ma’am,” Lydia said from behind her. “’Tis time to ready for tea.”
Tearing her gaze from the dreary day, Sarina turned just enough to see her lady’s maid and nod. She’d yet to dress for the day, content to stay in her bedroom, a cozy fire warming her back, her favorite blanket over her legs as her thoughts kept her company.
It didn’t matter what the outcome of tea this afternoon; Sarina needed to be honest with Oliver. Whether she married him or not, he needed to know she was no maiden. Maybe, she thought as she stood, complete honesty wasn’t quite the way to go.
No, telling Oliver about both her lovers was not a good idea. But he’d believe she’d slept with Prescott, as her official suitor.
Her gown was a beautiful sage green, with cream-colored flowers along the bodice. Sarina loved this gown, but now, as Lydia did up the buttons, she didn’t care. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed all that to the side.
Once in the parlor, she uncertainly waited for Oliver’s arrival. She wanted to see him today; they needed to talk about their future, but that didn’t make it any easier. Oh, how she missed her sensible self when she looked at a situation and knew the best course of action for her life. Now, sitting in her own parlor, cousins absent, Sarina was assaulted by nerves.
Exceptionally punctual, she didn’t have to wait long for him to enter. Tea had just arrived when McGann announced Lord Hawksmoor.
“Good day, Lord Hawksmoor,” Sarina said in a surprisingly even voice.
Oliver bowed over her outstretched hand and offered a genuine smile as he sat opposite her in one of the high-backed chairs. “I certainly hope you don’t plan to venture out this evening.” He nodded toward the windows where faint light brightened the room. She’d left the curtains open despite the weather, so as not to give the wrong impression for Oliver’s visit. “It’s quite the deluge.”
Uncomfortable silence settled between them, and Sarina cursed the awkwardness. She’d always enjoyed Oliver’s company, but now, with marriage and an inheritance hanging between them, she felt nothing but tongue-tied and embarrassed.
“I don’t intend to leave until the ball tomorrow evening,” she said into the silence as she handed him his teacup.
“With luck London will dry out by then.” He accepted the cup with a smile and nod, and sat comfortably back.
He showed none of the uncomfortableness she felt, and she swallowed hard and straightened even further. Sarina had no wish to show him her feelings, her unease with this visit, necessary as it was.
“Would you allow me the honor of escorting you tomorrow evening?” Oliver asked before Sarina had thought of a simple—and innocent—conversation filler.
“Oh.” She cleared her throat and hated that she hadn’t anticipated this. She should have—oh, she most definitely should have known his question was a possibility. But she’d foolishly hoped for more time.
To accept his invitation as escort, at the start of the Season, meant she’d already accepted his proposal. Sarina should’ve gone to all the balls and soirees and house parties alone, as a single and unattached woman. Not…
“I must say, Lord Hawksmoor,” she admitted and set her teacup resolutely on the table, “I hadn’t expected such an offer.”
“I certainly hope it’s not an unwelcomed offer,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Resisting the urge to give into the fidgeting she suddenly found herself doing more and more often, Sarina held his gaze. She needed to be resolute. “Of course it isn’t,” she said honestly. “However, I’m unsure I’m prepared to take this next step.”
Sadness flashed for the briefest moment across his face, quickly replaced by an implacable look of mild understanding and interest. So quickly in fact, Sarina wasn’t certain she saw it.
“It’s just, so many knew you were to marry Aunt Georgiana…” She trailed off, knowing she grasped at straws. Sarina looked away in embarrassment at her words. She hated this entire situation.
“I see.” He nodded.
Sarina held up her hand to forestall any further conversation. What she needed to tell him was delicate, and she didn’t trust her cousins not to eavesdrop. Quickly crossing the parlor, she closed the door with a quiet sigh. She saw no one hovering outside, but that meant little. Even McGann seemed to have disappeared.
“We’ve danced around this conversation since Aunt Georgiana’s death,” Sarina began. She sat back on the settee and sipped her cooling tea. “It’s mostly my fault; I know you’ve tried to broach this topic before.”
His smile warmed, and her fears and worries eased slightly. “What is it you’re trying to tell me, Sarina?” he asked bluntly. “Are you simply not interested in this marriage?”
If she hadn’t met Prescott and Liam, Sarina would have been quite happy marrying Oliver. But that was no longer an option. Still, she admired his bluntness.
“I must be honest with you, Oliver,” she said, purposely using his given name. This conversation seemed too important to call him Lord Hawksmoor. Swallowing, she continued. “The fire at the Kingsnorth Frost Fair changed many things.”
“Yes.” He nodded, just once, his voice distant. “Yes, it did.”
She looked steadily up at him and saw the understanding in his gaze. He said nothing, asked her no questions, but his gaze took in everything and Sarina knew, she simply knew, that he understood exactly how her life had changed.
“My belief that you’ve chosen to walk away from Sinclair and Trevelyan is incorrect. Is it not?” he asked, though she knew he already understood her answer to be yes.
Silently nodding, she poured more tea she didn’t want and took a sip. It tasted bland on her tongue, despite the sugars. “I could not deny my feelings,” she admitted finally. “We were alone, in the house in Kingsnorth.” She stumbled over her words, then paused. “You may not wish to marry me, Oliver. I am no longer…chaste.”
He leaned forward, his gaze solely on hers. “If that is your concern, your hesitation in not marrying me.” He paused. His smile was brief, a ghost of the one he usually offered. “Don’t let it trouble you.”
Stunned, she set her teacup back down and curled her fingers in her gown. She hadn’t expected that answer. Sarina truly wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t his ready acceptance.
“In my eyes, our marriage would begin the day we take our vows.” Oliver sat back, oddly relaxed. “Anything before?” He shook his head. “It’s of no consequence.”
Sarina nodded. “That’s good to hear. Thank you. However,” she added, more certain as to her words, “I’m still uncertain if I can attend tomorrow’s ball with you as my escort.”
Oliver stood and rounded the chair, taking a few steps from her. “You still have expectations of marrying one of them,” he stated. Draping his hands behind his back, he nodded, his eyes still focused on her. “May I ask which one? A man likes to know who his competition is.”
Both. However, she was smart enough, and composed enough, to say, “Mr. Sinclair. If it hadn’t been for Aunt Georgiana’s death, we may have already been married.”
“I see.”
And Sarina knew he did—and a bit more clearly than she wished he had.
“Any hope for a union between us is gone,” he said with another slight smile, there and vanished in an instant. “Isn’t it?”
The last wasn’t a question, and all Sarina could manage was surprisingly firm. “No. When I visited Hawksmoor Manor, and witnessed all you faced, I knew joining my inheritance with you would be the right thing and the honorable thing to do.”
His laugh was short, and he shook his head. “I don’t want you to walk away from someone you clearly love, simply to help me.”
“But, Oliver,” she began. Stopping, she stood and rounded the table. “It’s more than simply helping you. And you know that—otherwise you wouldn’t have stayed at Hawksmoor Manor. You’d have left it, and its people and debts, and gone off to be the adventurer you wish to be.”
“I’ve made many compromises for Hawksmoor.” He looked behind her, staring blindly out the window. “That is something I’ve chosen to do. I don’t wish to compromise you to such a degree that you walk away from the man you truly love.”
“Thank you, Oliver,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but the sincerity was everything. “But I don’t wish to abandon you, either. I thought, perhaps, there might be another solution.”
Oliver smiled, yet another brief flash. “The only solution is to marry well.”
Sarina nodded, accepting that. He was right. Licking her lips, she said, “Please, allow me to scheme.”
This time his smile lasted longer, amused and waiting.