A calm had settled over her. Sarina still vacillated between doing what she wished and what she knew to be right, but as she waited for Rose Ainsworth to be announced, she knew somehow it would work out.
She had to believe that, no matter the facts currently staring her in the face.
Sarina didn’t know when she’d taken to fantasizing or living in her own rose-colored world. Practicality certainly didn’t lend itself to such caprices. And, too, there was the very real truth that she was trying to force a marriage of convenience onto a stranger so she, herself, didn’t have to go through with it.
Sighing, she rubbed her fingers over her eyes and continued to stare into the sunny day. Tips of flowers and greenery peeked through the ground and promised to soon explode in a burst of color. One way or another, by the end of April Sarina would be engaged.
McGann announced Rose, and Sarina turned from her contemplation to greet her guest. Her butler gave her a long, silent look she couldn’t quite place, then bowed and left. Sarina held back another sigh. She’d been far from circumspect; the entire household staff no doubt knew of her plans and schemes.
Gesturing to the seat opposite her, Sarina poured tea. The table was situated just outside a patch of sunlight, warming the room most pleasantly. Rose looked at her with a steady gaze that gave nothing away.
She silently accepted the teacup and took a sip, a slight smile playing around her generous mouth. Sarina poured her own tea, then leaned back and watched the other woman.
Lifting the plate, she offered Rose the cakes. “Would you care for one?”
With one eyebrow raised, Rose shook her head. “You needn’t stand on ceremony. I’m completely aware as to why you’ve invited me to tea, Miss Hunt.”
Rose’s bluntness momentarily stunned Sarina, but then she supposed it shouldn’t have. Before she could muster a reply, the other woman continued.
“You wish to know what failing I’ve discovered in Lord Hawksmoor that led me to reject this scheme of Sinclair’s and Trevelyan’s.”
“I wouldn’t have necessarily asked you so directly,” Sarina admitted coolly. “But yes. Why reject Lord Hawksmoor? From my understanding, you wanted to marry; Hawksmoor is a prize. And Mr. Sinclair has informed me you expressed no interest in a love match.”
Rose offered a small smile, one that spoke of secrets and mysteries. “Did Mr. Sinclair, or Mr. Trevelyan, for that matter, tell you my reasons for not wanting a love match?”
Oh. No, they hadn’t, and Sarina flushed in embarrassment when she realized she hadn’t asked. All she knew was the gossip surrounding Rose. “They weren’t forthcoming with specifics,” she admitted. “But yes,” she told Rose, not bothering with prevarication the other woman clearly didn’t appreciate. “I have heard the rumors.”
Rose raised her teacup to her lips and took a quick sip. She leaned back in the chair and offered that same mysterious smile. “Ah, yes. The rumors. The entire world believes I was taken in, fooled,” she added with an unamused smile, “by a thieving rake. When that is not the case. But yet, the sympathy I have earned has been staggering.”
Sarina waited as the other woman set her teacup back on the table, her hands folded demurely on her lap. Rose held herself immobile, all poise and rigidity, but her eyes spoke of secrets, and that smile Sarina couldn’t quite identify remained enigmatic.
“You should see the looks well-meaning matrons cast in my direction.” Her eyebrow raised again. “Or the sympathetic advances from suitors. Each one wishes to rescue me from evil men.”
Taking a moment in the wake of the bitter-tinged words, Sarina tilted her head. She kept her own pity from both voice and gaze, careful to school her features into mild understanding. Also, she didn’t want to push. “I believe they simply wish to be kind.”
Rose offered a laugh, the sound harsher than she’d thus far let on. “I don’t want their kindness. I wish no one knew anything. Jeremey was not a thief.” She picked up her tea and drained the cup. In a calmer voice she added, “But proving that.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. And what I’d like is a distraction to dedicate myself to.”
“I don’t understand,” Sarina confessed. “A marriage with Lord Hawksmoor would offer you that and so much more.”
“I know.” Rose nodded. Her smile played around her full lips again, more sardonic than mysterious now. “However, there is but one problem. Lord Hawksmoor is entirely too decent to be married to me.”
“I do not understand,” Sarina said again. “If you find him decent, as you say, why wouldn’t you wish that in a husband?”
Those direct hazel eyes bore into Sarina. “Because I am not. I enjoyed Jeremy.”
The words hung between them, but Sarina instantly understood them. She swallowed and took her time refilling her teacup. Rose shook her head at the offer, but Sarina studied the woman sitting so calmly across form her.
Rose didn’t seem embarrassed at her admission, and to a near stranger at that. Direct, matter of fact, and as pragmatic as Sarina had always fancied herself, yes. But not embarrassed. Finding that interesting, Sarina eventually nodded.
“I am not chaste, either,” Sarina confessed.
“You and Sinclair?” Rose asked, clearly already anticipating that.
Slowly, Sarina nodded. Licking her lips, the words bubbling in her throat, she took a heartbeat, then another, but it had to be said. She needed to admit it, and admit it to Rose, and Sarina wasn’t certain why.
“And Trevelyan,” she whispered.
Sarina’s confession stunned Rose. She sat up straighter, and for a moment, the mask she wore disappeared. In its place were surprise, awe, and a hint of interest. Then her gaze became shuttered, and a slow, knowing smile spread across her face.
“Ah,” Rose said.
Sarina didn’t know if Rose thought she’d cheated on Prescott with Liam, or what truly happened between them, but remained silent. Her own reputation was on the line here, and she didn’t need to add any fuel to the fire.
“You’re quite the adventuress, are you not, Miss Hunt?” Rose said, still smiling.
She knew then, about the ménage. Sarina merely sipped her tea. Taking a deep breath, she smiled just slightly. “I couldn’t choose. But I must confide in you another thing.”
Rose nodded encouragingly. “I’m not easily surprised,” she admitted. “But you have surprised me and I’m not certain what to expect from another confidence.”
“This is about Lord Hawksmoor,” Sarina said.
Rose eyes widened. “Him, too?” she asked, her voice higher pitched and more astonished than Sarina had heard previous to this confession.
Laughing, a burden lifting from her from the confession and Rose’s reaction, Sarina shook her head. “No, no.” She shook her head again, the smile fading.
“No,” Sarina said again. “There was nothing between us in that manner. But because of the possibility of marriage, I felt I needed to inform him that he wouldn’t be the first in my bed.”
Rose nodded in understanding and admiration. She took a moment to select a cake, taking a small bite and chewing in the silence that Sarina’s confession left.
Surprisingly, Sarina felt calm and relaxed. This wasn’t exactly how she’d expected this conversation to proceed, but then she hadn’t had a plan as much as she’d tried to form one. Nor had she expected to confide in Rose Ainsworth, a woman she’d met only last night and one she hoped to use for her own ends.
Perhaps it was that reason Sarina wished to take Rose into her confidence. She was using the woman, after all.
She sipped her cooling tea and studied the other woman. Rose had taken Sarina’s confession remarkably well.
“Did he hurl poisonous recriminations at you?” Rose asked. “Compare you to the whores they sneak into gentlemen’s clubs?”
“No.” Sarina shook her head. “He did not care.”
The skepticism in the other woman’s gaze couldn’t be hidden, no matter how good Rose seemed to be at keeping her emotions secret. Sarina simply waited and watched. She finished her tea and felt better than she had since leaving the marchioness’s ball last evening.
“He told me that nothing before the marriage mattered,” Sarina said into the silence. “That we would be partners at Hawksmoor Manor.” Smiling, she added, “He is a good man who is, surprisingly, without judgment.”
“Is this the truth?” Rose demanded, hard and searching. “Or do you desperately try and woo me to his cause?”
“It is nothing but the truth,” Sarina promised, keeping her gaze steady on Rose. “Believe me, I have not lied to you today. And I’ve shared more with you than I should have.”
Rose studied her, and Sarina waited, unruffled, a small smile playing around her mouth, and she wondered what the other woman was thinking. And then she wondered if Rose Ainsworth, a stranger yesterday and barely an acquaintance today, would become the one woman Sarina could speak with about her ménage.
“I shall arrange a meeting with Lord Hawksmoor,” Rose said eventually. It was said still in the same cool, detached voice, but the interest in her gaze couldn’t be missed. “Perhaps an accord might be struck, after all.”
After Rose’s admission about speaking to Oliver, conversation turned toward London, the start of Parliament, and the Season. Rose never spoke further about Jeremy, and it seemed as if she protected her wayward lover—the lover who’d abandoned her.
They’d laughed and Sarina further relaxed; the more she studied Rose, the more she saw the other woman also relaxing as the afternoon wore on.
As they spoke, Sarina understood the differences in circumstances between her and Rose. And also came to realize that she no longer foisted Oliver onto Rose, or Rose onto Oliver, for that matter.
In the wake of what, admittedly little, Rose had told her about her own circumstances, Rose and Oliver would be most suitably matched.
Now all Sarina could do was wait for Rose to speak with Oliver. She breathed in a deep breath and slowly released it. Walking to the doors, she opened them and felt the warm spring day.
Yes, she had high hopes for the outcome of a match between Oliver and Rose. And once that was set, and Sarina refused to let her earlier doubt plague her, she’d marry Prescott as soon as possible.
* * * *
With the matter of Miss Ainsworth and Lord Hawksmoor settled—or very nearly so as far as Sarina knew—she acknowledged one final obstacle in the path to her own happiness.
Her engagement to Prescott had been announced, and while her cousins had not been pleased, they also hadn’t made too overt a fuss when rumors began spreading about Oliver and Rose. Sarina grimaced as she stared at the stone path along her rear garden.
Perhaps too overt a fuss wasn’t the correct phrase. They had gasped and bemoaned the fact that their beloved Hawksmoor, their dear cousin, had associated himself with a ruined woman.
Never mind they barely recognized him as anything other than their connection to nobility. Or that they knew little to nothing about Rose Ainsworth. Or that this saved Rose’s reputation, gave Oliver the funds necessary to restore Hawksmoor Manor, and allowed Sarina to marry the men she loved.
And therein lay the problem.
She certainly couldn’t marry both Liam and Prescott. In the eyes of society, and the law, she could marry only one. Honestly, Sarina was all right with that. She’d abide by the law and marry Prescott, but all three of them knew her heart belonged to Liam as well.
Standing, she wandered down the neatly kept rows along the townhouse’s gardens. What she wanted to do was run, take off her bonnet, and race over hills and through the wood. London did not allow for that. So she remained trapped in her small garden, among brightly blooming flowers and vivid scents, with no path out of this new problem.
When she and Prescott married, how could Liam remain in their household?
Sarina had thought of, and discarded, a dozen scenarios, each one more fantastical than the next. Everything from faking Liam’s death, which was utterly impractical when it came to running their business, to sneaking him in through a tunnel between neighboring townhouses.
“Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Trevelyan,” McGann announced.
Sarina looked up at her butler, still as impassive as ever but with a slight twinkle in his eyes. Smiling at him, she nodded, her gaze flying behind him to where her lovers stood.
McGann disappeared, as silent as a ghost, but Sarina barely realized it. In an instant, Liam’s arms wrapped around her, his mouth hungry against hers. Sarina moaned into his kiss, opened completely to him, for him. Behind her, she felt Prescott, his hands on her hips, his lips nuzzling the nape of her neck.
Shuddering, her breath harsh, Sarina pulled back. Flushed, aroused, and feeling very, very wanton surrounded by two men in her rear gardens where anyone could spot them, she grinned.
Wanton, yes, but oh so loved.
“I’ve missed you both,” she admitted. She raised her hands, one hand cupping Prescott’s cheek, the other Liam’s.
Liam took her hand and kissed the back of it. The innocent gesture looked positively indecent when he did it; his blue eyes were hot, his lips curved into a wicked smile. When he turned her hand and brushed the inside of her wrist, Sarina’s insides clenched and she moaned.
“We’ve been by to see you just yesterday,” Prescott said.
He hadn’t moved far, and now his lips brushed along her back, over the curve of her shoulder. Liquid heat pooled low in her, and Sarina gave serious thought to the practicalities of making love to them right there in the gardens.
Sarina took a deep breath, then another, but it did little to ease the need throbbing through her. She shifted slightly, but all that did was cause her thighs to clench. Clearing her throat, she ignored the knowing looks both men watched her with.
“Before.” Her voice rasped and she stopped to clear her throat again. “Before we do anything,” she said with a significant look at both of them, “we need to discuss the matter of after the wedding.”
At this moment, she didn’t want to bring any of this up; on the other hand, it was imperative they sort this now. She refused to put off a conversation so important a moment longer. “How are we going to resolve the matter of our residence?”
Now that she’d said it, Sarina realized the question bothered her more than she liked. She had no desire to change one bit about their relationship, their arrangement. No, not arrangement. When put like that, it sounded planned and she’d never planned to fall in love with two men, let alone form such a relationship with them.
“I have my townhouse,” she continued, with a vague nod in the direction of said building. When she looked between Liam and Prescott, she saw both men’s full attention on her. “And Liam could most certainly be a regular guest, but with his own residence in London, having him here so often might raise suspicions of a sort.”
Taking a deep breath, she stepped back, just enough for their hands to fall from her body, not enough to truly give her the space to think. However, she’d spent so very long thinking, planning, and worrying, and Sarina was tired of it. This one final piece to their lives needed to be settled. Today.
Curling her fingers in the skirt of her green gown, she pushed ahead. Sarina refused to let something as important as Liam’s living arrangements fall by the wayside. “What we need is a better plan than you,” she said to Liam, “as our permanent houseguest.”
“We already know how you think, Sarina.” Liam smiled at her with that warm curl to his lips that made her forget words and want to feel his mouth on her.
Frowning, Sarina pursed her lips and glanced between her men. “You are aware of my concerns, then?”
“We are.” Prescott nodded in so decisive a manner she wondered how long they’d thought of this and why they’d said nothing before. “And we’ve planned an accident.”
“An accident?” The sound of the word worried Sarina—how did one plan an accident? And how did one ensure such an accident didn’t cause permanent injury? Liam smirked knowingly at her, and she swallowed all her questions.
“Don’t worry,” Liam assured her. He stepped closer and took her hand, his fingers caressing the bare skin just above her glove. “The only injury will be to my ego.”
“What,” Sarina asked, her gaze shooting between the two men, “is this about?”
Liam closed the distance between them, his hands on her shoulders. He looked serious, for all the wickedness in his gaze and his smile just a moment ago. His thumbs caressed the sides of her neck, just a light touch. Next to him, Prescott nodded. Clearly they’d planned this out, too.
“In order to temper any unwanted rumblings about my frequent visits to the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair,” Liam said with a hint of humor, but otherwise entirely serious, “I’m going to move in permanently. Believe me, no one in London will think twice about it.”
“How…?” Sarina began then shook her head.
“We’re going to stage an accident on the docks.” Prescott took her hand in his and squeezed it once. “Liam is going to pretend he’s been seriously injured in the accident. And we,” Prescott continued with a wink at her and a glance at Liam. “We as his dearest friends will be more than happy to house my business partner for the foreseeable future.”
“I see.” Sarina nodded.
It seemed a sound plan, but she wasn’t completely sure about this scheme. What if something went wrong and Liam was truly hurt? What if a witness saw the truth and needed to be paid off? Blackmail was such an ugly business and one she wanted no part of.
However, it would solve all their problems.
Taking a deep breath, she nodded once. “And if a time comes when some young miss offers to care for our Liam as his wife?” She couldn’t keep the jealousy out of her tone, didn’t bother to try.
Liam cringed but nodded. Apparently, they’d thought of a way around that, too. “It’ll be made perfectly clear,” Liam said with a wince to his tone, “that I’m no longer suitable as a husband.”
Sarina peered at him curiously, unsure what he meant. “Oh.” She realized, her eyes widened in surprise as his meaning became clear.
They meant to spread rumors that the accident injured his manhood. Sarina blushed, despite the fact she’d enjoyed his manhood quite thoroughly, and repeated, “Oh.”
Liam grimaced but kissed her softly. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do to be with you, Sarina,” Liam told her with such tenderness, her heart melted. He took her in his arms, held her close. “Actually, there isn’t anything.”
“There isn’t anything I would not risk,” Sarina confessed. She looked from Liam’s sincere blue gaze to Prescott’s equally earnest brown one. “Not anymore. I’d do anything to be with you both. I cannot believe all of this yet. I can hardly believe this will be our lives.”
“Believe it.” Prescott took her hand, his fingers curling around hers. “A happy marriage of three.”