Chapter Five

London, June 1810

Hostesses adored Lord John Callater because of his charming manners and Jack was too soft-hearted to refuse to dance with any of the debutantes presented to him. However, even he sometimes grew tired of the social round. One particular evening, having been invited to dine with his hosts, he was heartily bored even before the meal was over, and he slipped away for a few moments’ respite before he could be called upon to join the first of the dances.

Thankfully, on that occasion he was well acquainted with his hosts and knew that there was a small garden tucked away at the back of the house. He made his way there, preparing to enjoy the peace and quiet of a balmy summer’s evening.

He was surprised, on stepping outside, to see a young lady dancing on the lawn. She did not notice him, and Jack moved into the shadow provided by the garden wall to watch her as she skipped gracefully about the garden. She had a dainty figure and luxuriant hair the colour of dark honey. The way the evening sun glinted on her curls reminded him of an old song about a lady with amber-dropping hair.

He could not resist reciting a line: ‘“Brightest Lady look on me!”’

‘Oh!’ She stopped dancing and turned, surprise and a hint of apprehension in her look.

He said, by way of explanation, ‘It’s from a song, by John Milton.’

‘I know.’

She smiled, as if reassured by his words. As she walked towards him, he saw that her eyes were a rich, emerald green.

She went on, ‘Sabrina Fair. It was a favourite of my mother’s and she named me after it.’

‘Very apt, then, because your hair really is the colour of amber.’

‘Thank you.’

Jack was intrigued. She was dressed as a debutante, but looked to be a little older than most. Perhaps nineteen or twenty. She seemed quite self-assured, too, not at all discomposed to be alone in the garden with a strange gentleman.

‘Why are you not in the ballroom?’ he asked her.

‘Because I do so love to dance, and I did not want to sit without a partner and watch everyone else enjoying themselves.’

‘But someone might have asked you to stand up with them, if you had remained in the room.’

‘Oh, no.’

She replied with surprising candour, and that made him smile.

He said, ‘You cannot know that.’

‘But I do.’ She smiled back at him. ‘First, all the rich young ladies are asked, the heiresses and those with excellent lineage. Then, if there are any gentlemen left who wish to dance, they ask the pretty ones.’

‘Then you would surely be asked.’

‘La, thank you, sir!’

She curtsied and peeped up at him, her green eyes twinkling with laughter. Jack was entranced.

‘Will you tell me your name?’

‘I have told you. It is Sabrina.’

‘No, who are you, who are your parents?’

She regarded him for a moment, as if making up her mind.

‘I am the only daughter of Sir Anthony and Lady Kydd, of Russell Square.’

‘And are you here with them tonight, Miss Kydd?’

‘Yes...why do you wish to know?’

‘Because I must achieve an introduction before I can dance with you. I am Lord John Callater, by the way.’

She was laughing now. ‘And are you a good dancer, Lord John Callater?’

‘I am a very good dancer.’ He grinned. ‘Now, off you go back to the ballroom and I will follow shortly!’

Jack allowed himself two dances with Sabrina, but afterwards he did not approach her again that evening, fearing the gossips would brand her his latest flirt. However, it was not difficult for him to discover all the parties and balls where Miss Kydd was likely to be present. He attended every one of them, always making sure he danced with several ladies as well as Sabrina. Occasionally he would escort her to supper, but he was careful to do nothing that could give rise to the sort of speculation ruinous to a young lady’s career.

He found himself one of a small group of admirers all vying for Miss Kydd’s favours, but although he was sure Sabrina’s affections were engaged, Jack refrained from pressing his suit until he was certain of his own feelings. It was unnerving. No woman had ever caused him so much heart-searching. He was unsure, off balance, and he found that slightly terrifying.

Afraid of making a misstep, Jack was more circumspect in this courtship than he had ever been before, but when he found himself breaking his habits and entering the hallowed portals of Almack’s just to dance with Sabrina, he realised how serious things had become. He knew then it was time to ask her to marry him.

The following day he made his way to Russell Square only to be told that Miss Kydd was not at home. A slight setback, but Jack was sanguine. It was Lady Barnard’s ball that evening and Sabrina was sure to be there. He would talk to her then and make a more formal request for an interview with her father.

He duly arrived at Barnard House and did his duty by any number of ladies while he waited for Lady Kydd and her daughter to arrive, but by midnight it was clear they were not coming. He returned to Albany, still unaware that anything was amiss.

It was the next morning that he picked up the Morning Chronicle and read the news of Sabrina’s betrothal to the notorious Sir Roderick Massyngham.

Devon, November 1816

Jack pushed the food around idly on his plate as he thought back to those dark days. Thank God he had been circumspect in his courtship. There was no one to witness his disappointment, although that word hardly expressed his feelings when he learned that Sabrina was going to marry Rogue Massyngham.

At first he could scarcely believe it. He was desperate to speak with Sabrina, to know why she had accepted a man old enough to be her father, but that proved impossible. The family was accepting no callers and his letters to her were returned unopened. He spent hours in Russell Square, hoping for a glimpse of her and then eventually, when he was riding in Hyde Park one day, he saw her in an open carriage with her fiancé. Jack rode past and caught her eye, but she acknowledged him with the merest nod, as she would any slight acquaintance.

There had been no signs of discomfiture or sorrow in the lady’s face. No remorse in the look she gave him, only cold and haughty indifference.

Jack shook off the sombre thoughts and dragged his attention back to the dinner table. It was then he realised that Sabrina was no longer entertaining her neighbours with lively talk. The atmosphere in the room had changed, the general chatter had died away and most people were listening to the conversation going on at the far end of the table, where a portly gentleman was holding forth on the parlous state of the country.

‘I expected matters to improve once the war ended,’ he grumbled, ‘but they ain’t. More beggars wandering the streets, unrest in the towns...and there’s a tax on everything these days. Even travel hasn’t escaped. Why, ’tis said the government owns a wheel of every coach on the road these days!’

‘The farmers here are struggling,’ declared another gentleman, shaking his head. ‘Wheat prices are only half what they were three years ago.’

‘Aye,’ said a third. ‘During the wars when prices were high, many of them ploughed up extra land to keep up with demand. Now they can’t sell their wheat, and they can’t pay their rents.’

‘It is not only the farmers.’ Sir Anthony leaned in a little to make his point. ‘Labourers and mill workers are suffering too. There is a deal of injustice in England today. It is little wonder people are unhappy.’

Sabrina was sitting very straight in her chair. She seemed nervous, and a fleeting glance showed Jack that she was listening intently to her father.

‘But it’s the landowners they’ll blame,’ replied a lady sitting across from him. ‘Yet what can we do? We must increase the rents to cover our own rising bills. I vow I am loath to go into Exeter now for fear of the mob!’

‘The militia will deal with them, ma’am, never fear,’ said the man beside her. ‘Riots won’t help anyone.’

‘But many must be suffering genuine hardship,’ added Sir Anthony.

‘I am sure they are, sir, but it ain’t helped by that scoundrel Cobbett’s pamphlets and newspapers. The man positively encourages men to feel ill-used,’ retorted the portly gentleman. ‘And then there’s Orator Hunt, exhorting all and sundry to sign the petitions and march on Parliament.’

Lady Kydd was looking uneasy and she pinched her husband’s arm to stop him responding further. The Duke turned the conversation to a more comfortable subject, but Jack was intrigued by the look of apology that Sir Anthony gave his wife as he sat back. As the conversation ebbed and flowed around them, Jack turned to address Sabrina.

‘Your father was a minor official in the government at one time, was he not?’

‘That was some years ago.’ She answered briefly and appeared more interested in choosing another morsel of lamb from the platter in front of her.

‘I also recall that he had always been somewhat...radical in his views. I remember him claiming an acquaintance with Henry Hunt.’

‘That was a long time ago,’ she said quickly. ‘He has little interest in politics now.’

‘But he is still concerned about the plight of the poor.’

‘As anyone with an ounce of compassion should be,’ she replied. ‘I believe there is some justice in the claims that landowners are to blame for the high rents.’

‘Most of us sitting around this table are landowners, ma’am,’ he reminded her, but gently.

‘Yes, but some work to alleviate the plight of the poorest under their charge. The Duke and Duchess, for example. They do not spend their time in hedonistic behaviour funded by the high rents they make from their own people!’

This was too pointed to be ignored and he challenged her.

‘Are you talking of me or your late husband?’

She flashed an angry glance at him. ‘If the cap fits, sir!’

Jack’s jaw tightened with anger. ‘It might interest you to know...’

He stopped. He would not explain himself. Let her believe what she wished of him. What a hypocrite she was, he fumed silently. Massyngham’s wealth quite threw his own modest estates into the shade. It was the reason she had married him. And if reports were true, Sir Roderick had provided most generously for her in his will. She had no need to curtail her own extravagant lifestyle!

The great hall had been cleared for dancing and transformed into a ballroom. Candles glittered from the chandeliers and wall sconces, and the fire that had been burning for days provided a comfortable warmth for the guests as they milled around the ancient hall, waiting for the musicians in the minstrels’ gallery to strike up.

Pru had asked Jack to lead out a sprightly dowager viscountess for the first dance, and he obliged with his usual good grace. After that he stood up with any number of young ladies, but although he was smiling and charming to them all, his attention was elsewhere.

Sabrina filled his thoughts. Despite his conviction that he no longer cared, he could not be comfortable. There was a brittleness to her demeanour that suggested she was not as happy as she made out. He might tell himself he did not care, but it gnawed at him, and although he did not allow his eyes to follow the lady around the room, he was constantly aware of her.

He noted how the candlelight sparkled in her honeyed curls, the graceful way she flew across the floor when she was dancing. The delightful smile that never wavered. She stood up with no man for more than one dance and made no attempt to flirt with any of her partners. That surprised him, but he guessed it was out of respect for her hostess. Sabrina would not wish to offend a duchess. Aye, Lady Massyngham was a cunning female and no mistake! He was well rid of her, and should be thanking fortune he had escaped her clutches.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried, Jack could not ignore the siren call of the beautiful temptress.

Sabrina had been dancing for hours. She wished she could go home but that was impossible. Mama and Papa were clearly enjoying themselves, and she would not curtail their pleasure. They lived very quietly in Hartland, but she knew it had been a great wrench for them to leave London with all its entertainments. Mama had greatly enjoyed the parties and plays, and then there were the various societies, where her father had been such an active member.

The thought of Papa made her sigh. He was such a caring man, and it must be very difficult for him not to air his views. There had been a few difficult moments this evening, not only at the dinner table, when Mama had been obliged to remind him not to draw attention to himself, but in the drawing room beforehand. Sabrina had been standing with her parents and a small group of their acquaintances when the talk had first turned to the state of the country.

‘These are hard times, and no mistake, but riots won’t solve anything,’ opined one gentleman, frowning and shaking his head. ‘All this violence and machine breaking. It is my belief that the poor are being stirred up by lawbreakers. Dear me, I do not know where it will all end.’

‘On the gallows,’ declared another. ‘And as for stirring up trouble, that devil Cobbett is one of the worst culprits. He is demanding change and encouraging the poor to riot! Damme, he should be locked up again. Him and all his supporters...’

The men had continued to animadvert on the dire situation, and Sabrina could only be thankful that her father did not say anything. In the past he would have fired up in response and espoused the cause of parliamentary reform, but he had remained silent, although he shook his head and looked uncomfortable. Poor Papa, how difficult it must be for him not to express his liberal views.

Once the ball had started, however, her father had become much more cheerful, and Sabrina was pleased to see him and Mama standing at one side, watching the dancers and chatting so happily with their neighbours. No matter how wretched she felt, she could not drag them away from Hartland Hall before the ball had finished.

As the music ended, Sabrina thanked her partner and moved off to wait for the next. She maintained a cheerful demeanour, even though she would very much prefer to sit in a corner and weep. She had come to Hartland hoping to win back Jack’s regard. Or at the very least, perhaps to regain his friendship, that easy camaraderie that she had felt with him during the first weeks of their acquaintance, but he had openly scorned her at dinner and had not come near her since.

You were foolish even to consider a reconciliation, she told herself crossly. The past is gone and it is best to leave well alone!

‘Lady Massyngham.’

For an instant Sabrina thought she had conjured up that deep voice at her shoulder. A little thrill ran down her spine, and her heart was thudding so hard against her ribs it was almost painful. She swung around to find Jack standing before her, tall and imposing in his dark coat. She kept her eyes on the fine detail of his embroidered waistcoat, breathing in the faint trace of spices and musk that hung about him. It made her want to step closer, breathe deeper.

She wanted to touch him so badly it hurt. She had to grip her closed fan with both hands to stop herself reaching out. It was shameful, alarming. Especially since she knew he only wanted to torment her. He had almost provoked a quarrel with her at the dining table. Was that not enough? She would put up with it no longer. She raised her eyes to his face.

‘My Lord John.’

‘Another set is forming.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘Shall we join them?’

Of course she would not dance with him. How could he even think it? A snub and a set down was all she would give him.

Three matronly ladies were close by, and Sabrina waited for them to pass before making her refusal. They were all giggling as if they had enjoyed a little too much of their host’s good wine, and one of them stopped to tap Jack’s shoulder with her fan.

‘So, my lord, you have at last plucked up the courage to ask the lady to dance. Good for you, young man!’ The woman gave a fat chuckle. ‘Oh, no need to look like that, sir. I cut my eye teeth years ago and I have seen the way you were watching her. You have not been able to keep your eyes off the lady all night! Go to it, man, go to it. And you, my lady.’ The matron turned her flushed, beaming face towards Sabrina. ‘Put the poor fellow out of his misery and stand up with him!’

This forthright intervention made Sabrina quite forget her anger. She was strongly tempted to giggle and, as the matron sailed off to catch up with her friends, she glanced up at Jack. There was a reluctant gleam of amusement in his eyes, too, and they smiled at one another. Miraculously, the tension was gone. They were momentarily united, and the air around them suddenly felt much warmer.

‘Well, ma’am, what can I say after that? Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?’

‘I fear the lady may come back and scold me royally if I do not!’

She gave him her hand and let him lead her onto the dance floor. Within the silk glove, her skin tingled as his fingers closed around hers. A frisson of pleasure ran through her, quickly suppressed. She must be careful. This was a truce, but she should not read anything more into it than that.

And yet, as they went down the dance together, performing the familiar steps, the years fell away. It was not so much a dance as a courtship carried on in time to the music. They held hands, exchanged smiles. Every glance, every touch was enhanced while the company around them faded into a blur. It was as if they were trapped together in a bubble, and when they were separated by the movement of the dance, she went through the steps mechanically, only coming alive again when she was reunited with her partner.

For Sabrina, the dance seemed to last a lifetime, but when the music finally stopped, she wanted to protest that it was too soon. Jack reached for her hand, and the fire in his eyes sent her spirits soaring to dizzying heights, but only for an instant, until she realised there was no tenderness in his look. Passion, yes. And desire. He wanted her. She had seen that same look in too many men’s faces to doubt it. But there was something else, consternation. As if he, too, had been shaken by the emotions stirred up by that one dance. Suddenly being so close to Jack felt very dangerous. Panic gripped her.

You cannot control this, Sabrina. Leave him, now.

‘Excuse me.’ She pulled her hand free. ‘I must go.’

Then, with the merest curtsy, she left him.

Sabrina had no real idea of her direction as she moved this way and that between the guests. She only knew she must get away from Jack’s disturbing presence. Everything was noise and bustle. Dancers were changing partners, people were moving on and off the floor. She hoped that, in the confusion of the crowded ballroom, she could slip away unnoticed.

There was a stone archway leading off the great hall, and she hurried towards the shadows beyond. She had just stepped through when she heard Jack’s voice close behind her.

‘Sabrina, stop.’ He caught her arm. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Home. I need my cloak...’

‘You won’t find it here.’

Angrily she shook him off and took a hasty step away. She looked about her. They were in a deep alcove, with windows on two sides and a door on the third, but one glance told her it was not an outer door.

‘That leads to the library,’ said Jack, following her gaze. ‘We can go inside, if you wish.’

‘No. I will not go anywhere with you!’

She backed away from him and he gave an exasperated sigh.

‘Confound it, woman, you are in no state to go back into the ballroom. And to be truthful,’ he muttered, ‘neither am I!’

Sabrina hesitated, biting her lip, and the next moment she found herself being propelled firmly through the door.

The library was empty, but candles burned around the room and a cheerful fire crackled in the hearth. Even with the door closed, it was possible to hear the faint strains of the music as the orchestra struck up for a Scotch reel. She shook off his hand.

‘Thank you, my lord. I can manage now.’

‘I doubt it.

‘Why have you brought me here?’ He was standing between her and the door and she felt trapped.

‘You need to compose yourself before you return to the ballroom.’

‘I am not going back there. I want to leave.’

‘Impossible to do that without going through the great hall,’ he pointed out, with infuriating logic. ‘Unless you propose to climb out the window.’

That made her want to giggle, which eased her nerves somewhat, and she stopped shaking. Now she needed to gain control of herself. Of the situation.

‘And why do you wish to leave?’ he continued. ‘Are you ill?’

‘No.’

‘Then what?’

She shook her head. What could she say? It was impossible to explain when she did not understand it herself. She felt she was standing on the edge of a precipice, and she had a fearful dread that the slightest wrong move would send her tumbling to disaster.

‘Is it me?’ He took a step closer. ‘Are you frightened of me?’

‘No!’ She raised her head at that. ‘I am afraid of no man!’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

There was a note of amusement in his voice that stiffened her resolve. How dare he laugh at her! She turned away and went across to the fire to warm her hands.

She said, keeping her back to him, ‘I am a little tired.’

‘Tired?’ He openly laughed at that. ‘The Wicked Widow is renowned for dancing through the night.’

‘Do not call me that!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it is not true. I am not...wicked.’

‘A little late to protest your innocence now, Sabrina. Who would believe you?’

She raised her eyes to the mirror above the mantelshelf and stared at her reflection. He was right. She had played into the hands of the gossips. Widowed at four-and-twenty, she had felt suddenly free and far too young to retire from Society. Instead she had chosen a life of gaiety and pleasure, dancing until dawn, picnic breakfasts, theatre visits, rides in the park. But she had resolved not to tie herself down to any one man. Instead she had chosen to have a string of admirers that could be called upon to escort her. Who could blame them if they boasted a little, if they exaggerated their connection to the Wicked Widow?

Jack moved up to stand behind her, but she would not meet his gaze, even in the mirror.

‘It is usual to stand up with a gentleman for two dances, you know,’ he reminded her.

‘Then you will be disappointed.’

‘Will I?’

‘I do not intend to dance again tonight.’

‘No?’ His voice was very close, smooth as velvet in her ear. ‘You have told me that before.’

Her spine tingled; she could feel the heat from his body on her back and closed her eyes, trying not to give in to the ache of desire growing inside her.

‘This time I mean it.’

‘Do you?’

His hand stole around her waist. She felt his lips on her bare shoulder, and her head tilted, inviting him to kiss her neck. He obliged with a series of butterfly kisses that made her sigh. Sabrina leaned against him, her eyes closed, her resistance melting under the featherlight touch of his lips. She put her hand on his sleeve, where it rested against her waist, and slid her fingers between his.

His mouth brushed her ear. ‘I have waited six years for this, Sabrina Fair.’

‘Oh, so have I.’ The words were little more than a breath as she reached up to cup his face with her free hand, giving in to the sensual pleasure of his touch. This was where she belonged, she thought dreamily. Safe in Jack’s arms.

Safe! With a little cry she opened her eyes and pushed herself away from him. There was nothing safe about Jack Callater.

But this is what you wanted, is it not? The words taunted her and she turned to face him. You came here to win him back.

No! The thought of it brought the blood rushing to her cheeks. Not like this. She wanted him to love her. Truly, sincerely. As he had done six years ago. As she thought he had done. It occurred to her now that perhaps she had been too young, too naïve then to understand what it was he wanted from her. Perhaps the love of her girlish dreams did not exist. She turned to face him.

Jack stood silent, hands clenched into tight fists as he tried to calm the desire that was raging through his body. By God, how he wanted her! She had been ready to give in, to fall willingly into his arms, but now she was standing and staring at him as if he was the devil incarnate! He braced himself. She was going to rip up at him, to accuse him of trying to seduce her. He shrugged inwardly. It was not so far from the truth.

‘I, I beg your pardon.’

What? He felt winded. Was she apologising to him?

‘I am sorry if I led you to...if I made you think I wanted...’

She was blushing, looking so damned adorable he had to fight the impulse to drag her back into his arms. If this was some cunning ploy to increase his ardour, then it was succeeding only too well! But he knew how to play these games. He schooled his face into a look of understanding.

‘Let us blame it on the wine, my lady, and think no more about it.’

‘Thank you.’ She stood, hesitant, her tongue flickering over her lips. ‘I should go.’

‘Not until I have had my second dance. You owe me that much.’ She looked at him uncertainly, and he smiled. ‘Here, or in the ballroom? It is your choice.’