Chapter Seven

Sabrina’s pillow was wet with tears. Angrily she sat up and turned it over.

‘Damn you, Jack Callater!’

Shocked to find herself uttering aloud such an unladylike phrase, she hunted for her handkerchief and blew her nose before settling down again. He had dashed her hopes most cruelly, and she would not waste any more time on the odious man. Resolutely she turned her thoughts back to her parents. She was worried about Papa. He was looking quite frail, and there was a wistfulness about him that tore at her heart.

She went back over the conversation she had with him, shortly after her arrival in Devon. Mama was engaged elsewhere, and she and Papa were sitting together in the morning room when he asked her for news from London. She shook her head.

‘I know only what I read in the papers, Papa, the same as you.’

Her reply drew a sigh from him.

‘Your Mama made you promise not to tell me what is going on there, did she not?’

He took her silence as an affirmative and nodded. ‘I swore an oath to her that I would cease all connection with those wanting political reform, and I will not go back on that. The only thing I regret is that I am no longer in touch with my old friend Henry Hunt. I admit the rest of them were far more extreme in their thoughts and actions, and your mama was right to insist that I give up their society. We never speak of these things here, although one cannot escape the reports in the newspapers. I know there are endless petitions and meetings that achieve nothing, which makes me wonder where it will all end. I am so out of touch here in Devon.’

‘Do you miss London very much, Papa?’

He looked so sad that her heart went out to him.

He said, ‘I do, my love, but it is my punishment and I must not repine. My injudicious actions have caused too much harm. It cost you very dear, Sabrina, far more than your mother or I had to bear. I will never forgive myself for that.’

‘Oh, Papa...’

‘No, love, do not attempt to deny it. You told me you were very willing to marry Sir Roderick, but it broke my heart to agree to it.’ He dropped his head in his hands. ‘If only I had not been such a coward! I should have let the scoundrel hand those damning letters to the authorities and taken my punishment. Even being imprisoned could not have been more painful than seeing you trapped in such an unhappy situation.’

Sabrina flew out of her chair and fell on her knees beside him.

‘But it would not have been only you, Papa,’ she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘It would have been Mama and me, also. We would have all have been ruined. Destitute.’ His distress made her try to comfort him and she added in a lighter tone, ‘And it has not worked out so badly, has it?’

He raised his head and looked at her, his face haggard.

‘We are none of us impoverished, I grant you that, but how can I be comfortable knowing the misery I put you through? Your mother is very good. She has never once reproached me, but I know she feels it as keenly as I. We should never have let you marry that monster!’

‘It was my choice,’ said Sabrina, blinking away her tears and making her voice cheerful. ‘And it was not so very bad. I survived, and now I am a widow with an independent fortune that no one can take away from me.’ She hesitated. ‘You might return to town now, I think. If you wished.’

‘It is not what I wish. Your mother will not countenance the idea.’ He shook his head. ‘Here we live quietly, without the distractions of the world, but if we returned to the capital she knows I should not be able to sit by while this government ignores the plight of so many. She would never forgive me if I involved myself in politics again.’ He gave another long sigh. ‘But I do miss those meetings we had. Do you remember, love? Dr Watson would come with his son, James. They were so eager to change the world! Cobbett, too, when he was in town. And Hunt, such a persuasive speaker!’

‘I remember. I would sit in the corner and listen to the lively discussions! It was very exciting.’

‘Yes, yes.’ Her father nodded, the old fire returning to his eyes. ‘We talked of ending poverty and hardship in the country. Radical ideas such as giving all men the vote.’ The fire died and he sighed again. ‘It nearly cost me everything I hold most dear.’

‘But the cause was just, Papa, even if the time was not yet right for change.’

‘But will the time ever be right?’ he asked her. ‘Will we ever effect a peaceful transition to a fairer world?’

Mama had come back in then, and they had moved on to less controversial subjects, but now, lying in her bed, Sabrina considered her father’s words again.

A just cause, she thought sleepily. Perhaps that was where she should direct her energies. In her efforts to do more for others, perhaps she might at least find some contentment.

A sleepless night convinced Jack that his situation at Hartland was intolerable. Merely dancing with Sabrina had sent him out of his mind with desire. She bewitched him; one look from her sea-green eyes and he was lost. By heaven, he had not realised he was such a weak fool!

Throughout breakfast he tried to think of a reason to cut short his visit, but none occurred to him. However, the arrival of a letter from his man of business gave him just the excuse he needed. He said nothing to his hosts but went up to his bedchamber and set Weald to work packing up his trunks.

Shortly after noon Jack went downstairs, dressed for travel in his top boots, buckskins and riding jacket, with a serviceable greatcoat over all. He found his hosts alone in the morning room, and the Duke greeted him with a look of surprise.

‘Going out, Jack? Have you sent word to the stables, or do you want me to do so? I have a fine new hunter you might like to try.’

‘No, no, thank you, but it is nothing like that, Garr. I have ordered my carriage. I am returning to town.’ That, not unnaturally, caused a stir. Both Pru and Garrick turned to look at him as he carried on. ‘The letter this morning, it was from my lawyer, Simmons. There are some matters concerning my estate that need attention.’

‘Ah. Will you be going on to Lingwood then?’ asked Garrick, glancing out of the window. ‘It has been snowing all morning, and the weather might be worse beyond London.’

‘No need for that at the present time. There is nothing at the Priory that my steward cannot resolve, once I have signed the relevant authority.’ He added, forcing himself to meet the Duke’s concerned gaze, ‘Nothing serious, but all the same, every day it is postponed will be a worry to my tenants.’

He saw Pru cast an anxious glance out of the window and was quick to reassure her.

‘It is not twenty miles to Torrington, where I shall put up for the night, and from there the roads improve immeasurably. I foresee no difficulty in travelling on to town.’

Jack was not surprised when his friends tried to persuade him to stay, but he was adamant. His cases were packed, the baggage coach was being loaded as they spoke, and half an hour later they accompanied him to the door to say a reluctant farewell.

‘It is still snowing,’ observed the Duchess, as a few white flakes settled on the shoulders of Jack’s caped greatcoat.

‘A flurry, no more, Pru. And better I leave Devon now, before travel becomes impossible.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Take care, my dear, and don’t worry about me. You know I am not such a frippery fellow as people think.’

He turned to the Duke, who gripped his hand. He felt a momentary qualm for not confiding the true reason for his going but quickly squashed it. They did not know of his encounter with Sabrina last night, and he could not face trying to explain it. Last night’s encounter did not reflect well upon him or the lady. Best to say nothing.

He jumped into the waiting travelling chaise, raised his hand in farewell and set off, his baggage carriage trundling on behind.

The narrow lanes around Hartland prevented speedy travel, and Jack knew it would be dark by the time he reached Torrington. The snow was still falling steadily, although it was too light a covering to overly concern him. He was on his way back to town, away from Sabrina, but in his mind he could still see her, that bewitching smile, her green eyes, luminous in the candlelight. Last night she had looked more as she had done when he first met her. A modest gown, little jewellery and her hair simply dressed. Perhaps that had been the attraction.

He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to return to that spring evening, six years ago, when he had danced with an angel and decided he would like to become better acquainted. Her father was a gentleman of modest means, not perhaps the perfect match for the eldest son of a marquess, but Jack cared nothing for that. He courted Sabrina assiduously, even reverently. If only he had known then, she could be so easily bought.

She had listened to his compliments, her eyes glowing. He had every reason to believe she returned his regard, but within weeks she was married to a wealthy but notorious rake. There had been no apology, no explanation. She had cut him dead.

For the past six years he had tried to forget her. He had thrown himself into a whirlwind life of social events, his presence guaranteed to enliven any party. He was never out of spirits, and hostesses valued him for his charming manners and willingness to stand up with the plainest wallflower or most irascible matron. He was a confirmed bachelor, happily free of all matters of the heart and in complete control of his emotions.

Until last night, when he had given in to a passion that had lain dormant and unacknowledged for years. Jack opened his eyes and stared at the bleak snowy landscape. At least the passion was dead now. Sabrina had tried her wiles upon him once too often. Never again.

The light was fading fast. Taking out his watch, he guessed they must be only a couple of miles now from his destination. The chaise began to slow and he looked out to see the outline of a carriage resting at a drunken angle on one side of the road. There was still room to pass, but it would not do to go on without some enquiry to make sure no one was hurt. Jack gave the order to stop and jumped out, jamming his hat on his head to keep off the snow that was still falling.

Judging by the thick white coating on the upper side of the post chaise, the accident had occurred some time ago, and a quick word with the postilions confirmed this.

‘We thought we might be able to get ’er as far as Torrington, but the wheel’s smashed too bad for that, so we’re going to take the horses on there and get someone to come out to the coach.’

‘And your passengers?’ asked Jack, looking about him.

‘They walked on ahead, sir, when it was clear we wasn’t going to be able to carry ’em any further tonight.’ The man shrugged. ‘Bein’ females, they neither of ’em wanted to try ridin’ a carriage horse.’

‘I see.’ Jack looked at the broken carriage. There was nothing more he could do here. ‘I will look out for them on my way.’

With a word to his driver, Jack jumped back into his chaise and set off again. The snow was beginning to settle more heavily on the roads now, which had the advantage of lightening the dusk. They had not gone far before they came upon two cloaked figures walking along the highway. As the carriage approached, the women stopped and turned, but it was only as Jack alighted from the chaise that he recognised one of them. His cheerful words of greeting were never uttered and he merely nodded.

‘Lady Massyngham.’

Hell and damnation, she was the last person he wanted to meet. The look of dismay on Sabrina’s face told him quite clearly that the feeling was mutual. She was accompanied by an older woman who was carrying a portmanteau. Jack thought she must be a servant or a companion, and he touched his hat to her before addressing Sabrina again.

‘I saw your post chaise at the side of the road. I can take you as far as Torrington.’

It was a grudging offer and, try as he might, he could not quite prevent betraying this in his tone, so her answer came as no surprise.

‘Thank you, but we will manage.’

Her response was as chilly as the weather. Much as he would like to abandon the lady to her fate, he knew it would not do.

He said, ‘It is well over a mile and the snow is getting worse. I can take you up in my chaise, and your companion can ride with Weald, my valet.’

He indicated the baggage coach, which had come to a halt behind them.

‘That is very kind of you, sir,’ she said, in a voice that told him she thought nothing of the sort. ‘My maid and I will both ride in the baggage carriage.’

Jack curbed his temper. He wished he could leave her here to perish in the snow, but there was her companion to consider.

‘Sadly, madam, there is only room in there for one passenger, besides Weald. Or do you propose that my man should ride on the box with the driver?’

She regarded him for a moment, and Jack thought she was about to say that he should ride in the baggage coach and leave the travelling chaise for her and the servant. Perhaps if he was a gentleman, he would suggest it himself, but Jack was in no mood to make any such concession. Let her walk if she preferred that to his company!

Sabrina observed the stony look on Jack’s face and considered what to do next. It was only too clear that he was making this offer most reluctantly, and she would have liked to refuse, but what choice did she have? Beside her, Jane shifted restlessly and she realised how cold they were growing, standing in the snow. Much as it irked her, she knew she must accept.

‘Very well, my lord.’

It was arranged in a trice and soon they were moving again, Sabrina sitting next to Jack and trying hard to avoid touching him as the chaise swayed on its springs.

She fumed inwardly. Of all the unfortunate encounters! When she had risen early and made her plans to leave, she had not expected that Lord John Callater would be on the road, too. She was sure the Duchess had told her he was staying for several weeks, at least until after Christmas. If she had known he was leaving so soon, she might have stayed in Devon with her parents.

The carriage journey seemed interminable, but at last they reached Torrington and pulled up outside the main coaching inn on the town square, where the landlord informed them they were very fortunate, because he still had two rooms available.

Sabrina was dismayed, but when she asked if any of the other hostelries were likely to have space, the good man shook his head.

‘It being market day today, you see, ma’am,’ he explained, wiping his hands on his apron. ‘The inns and taverns are always full to bursting on market days. However, I do have a small sitting room I’d be happy to put at your disposal, my lord, while your man goes to see if he can find anything better?’

It was agreed. The landlord escorted them to the private parlour, while Mr Weald went off to ascertain that there was no other accommodation available in the town. Sabrina sent her maid with him, making it very clear that she would prefer to sleep in a hovel rather than spend a night under the same roof as Lord John Callater. Jane’s answer to that had been short and to the point.

‘You’ll do no such thing, madam, so let’s not hear any more of such childish nonsense!’

Sabrina remembered the words now as the landlord showed them into the private room. A small fire burned in the hearth, and she instinctively moved towards it. Jane was right, she decided as she warmed her hands, it was beneath her to behave so petulantly. That would give Jack the moral advantage and she was...she was damned if she would allow that!

She removed her cloak and threw it over a chair, musing on the fact that renewing her acquaintance with Lord John Callater was causing her to find relief for her feelings in the most improper language!

‘You will let me know what expenses you incur on my behalf,’ she said to Jack, when they were alone.

‘Of course.’ He drew off his gloves and put them on the table, along with his hat and cane.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room, and Sabrina moved across to the window. Outside, flaring torches on the buildings around the square illuminated the darkness. The snow was still falling, and several inches now covered the ground.

‘How long will it take my postilions to reach the town?’ she wondered aloud.

‘It could be some hours before your luggage arrives. They will need to recover the coach before they can seek you out and deliver it.’

‘I am concerned for the men being out in this weather, rather than my bags,’ she retorted, turning to frown at him.

His look implied he did not believe her. Not that what he thought of her mattered in the least.

‘If you were concerned for the postilions, it would have been better not to travel today,’ he went on. ‘I suppose you were too intent upon returning to your London friends.’

‘Yes, I was.’

It was not quite a lie. Sabrina had been impatient to leave Hartland, although it did not matter to her where she went, as long as it was away from Lord John Callater. What a cruel twist of fate it was that had thrown them together again.

‘Devon cannot offer sufficient entertainment for one such as you, I suppose,’ he said presently.

‘And yourself,’ she countered. ‘What made you quit so precipitately?’

‘Business.’

Sabrina waited, but he did not elaborate and they lapsed back into silence. The landlord brought them wine, which neither touched. Sabrina went back to the window and remained there, looking out into the night until she saw Jane and the valet hurrying back to the inn. She turned as they came into the room, eager to learn that they had found another inn with rooms to spare.

Sadly, any hopes of being free of Lord John’s company were soon shattered. Jane announced there was not even an attic to be had in the town.

‘The snow has made travel very difficult,’ added Weald, shaking his head. ‘Many of those who usually go home at the end of market day are looking for a bed. The two bedchambers here are all that are free. However, the landlord is amenable to putting an extra bed in each, if that will suit?’

Sabrina heard Jack’s exasperated sigh. ‘It will have to do.’

‘And you might want to bespeak this parlour, too,’ Weald advised him. ‘The dining room is pretty well full already, although the landlord has set aside a table where Mrs Nidd and I can eat.’

Sabrina looked at her maid. ‘Are you sure you would be comfortable in the public room, Jane?’

‘Certainly, my lady,’ replied her dresser calmly. ‘Mr Weald and I have discussed it, and we consider it the best solution for us to take our dinner there together while you and His Lordship dine in private.’

Sabrina pressed her lips together to stop herself giving vent to her frustration.

‘Is something amiss, my lady?’ Jack raised his brows at her. ‘I would not have thought you would be anxious about dining alone with a man other than your husband.’

Her eyes narrowed, misliking his tone. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Dear me, have I offended?’ he drawled.

‘You know very well you have!’ He raised his quizzing glass but she stared back at him, refusing to be intimidated. ‘Why do you insist upon teasing me?’

‘I did not realise I was doing so.’

She turned her back to him, holding on to her temper by a thread, and he went on.

‘You are a widow and gregarious to a fault, quite accustomed to setting the town by the ears.’ She heard him move closer until his voice was at her shoulder. ‘A little private dinner should be nothing to you.’

‘You are mistaken,’ she muttered.

‘Am I?’ His words were quiet, but there was no mistaking the contempt in his voice. ‘I have followed your career for six years, madam. I know everything about you!’

’Sabrina turned at that and shot him an angry look.

‘You know nothing about me,’ she said, her voice low and quivering with emotion. ‘You do not know me at all.’

Head up, she swept past him and towards the door, where her maid and Jack’s man were standing, silent and reluctant witnesses to the scene.

‘Jane, pray have the landlord send a bowl of soup up to my room, if you please.’

Jack cursed himself roundly as Sabrina hurried from the room, quickly followed by her maid. That was badly done of him. What was it about the woman that roused the worst in him?

Weald coughed as he closed the door upon them.

He said, his gaze fixed somewhere over Jack’s shoulder, ‘If you will forgive the impertinence, my lord, I should say you have seriously displeased the lady.’

Jack would have taken that from no other servant, but Tom Weald had known him almost from the cradle and he spoke with all the freedom of an old and valued retainer. He had taught Jack to ride, picking him up when he had fallen off his first pony, and it was Tom who had supported the anxious boy during his early schooldays. He had also been there during that halcyon spring when he courted Sabrina Kydd and during the dark, desperate months following her marriage.

Jack sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘I think you are right, Tom.’

Weald said bluntly, ‘It don’t reflect well upon you, sir.’

‘Damn it, man, do you think I don’t know that? She may be a coquette but that is no excuse for my bad manners!’

Weald considered for a moment, then he said, slowly, ‘I’m thinking maybe it’s because you still have some regard for the lady.’

‘What?’ Jack’s head came up. ‘That’s nonsense. She is nothing to me. You know as well as I the scandals attached to her. Why, I don’t even like the woman! Now, take yourself off and tell that rascally landlord to send in my dinner!’

A solitary meal in her room did much to settle Sabrina’s nerves, although it did not lift her spirits. She had been very foolish to follow Jack to Devon, to think that she could rekindle the spark that she thought had once ignited between them. He believed the rumours that abounded, and who could blame him? She had sold herself to the devil and now she must pay the price. Perhaps after Sir Roderick’s death, she should have retired to the Dower House and spent her days in lonely widowhood, but even four years of marriage had not quelled her liking for society. Was it wrong to love dancing, to want to forget the past and go out to parties, to enjoy herself?

The problem was that, although she craved company, she had no wish to find another husband. Society could not understand that any woman should want to remain single, but Sabrina had determined she would not suffer the indignity of another marriage unless she and her partner shared love and mutual respect. How foolish of her to think that she could ever find those things in Jack Callater.

She lay in her bed, listening to Jane snoring gently from the little truckle bed in the corner, and thought of what the future would hold for her. She was no longer sure that she wanted to return to her life in London, with its parties, the flirtations.

‘You are merely feeling sorry for yourself,’ she murmured into her pillow. ‘Once this latest disappointment has faded, you will enjoy society again. And if not, well, you can always find some worthy cause to espouse. There are plenty of charitable societies who would welcome your money.’

Jack spent a restless night tossing and turning, and he was glad when Weald came in with his morning coffee. Having his man sleeping on a truckle bed in his room was not what he was accustomed to, but he could not say in truth that Weald’s snores had disturbed him. No, he was honest enough to admit it was his conscience that had kept him awake half the night.

He had been less than a gentleman in his behaviour towards Sabrina. It was unworthy of him, however unworthy she might be.

Well, for that I can apologise, he thought as he climbed out of bed.

That is, if she was still at the inn. It was just possible that her post chaise had been recovered and repaired by this time. She might well have departed. After all, Sir Roderick had settled a very handsome sum upon his wife, and she could afford to pay for such exceptional service.

His mood darkened at the thought of Sabrina with the old rake. Not that it was any business of his if she had sold herself for a fortune. She was not the first woman to do so, but he had thought better of her. Six years ago he had been besotted enough to think her everything that was innocent and good.

He was in the act of tying his neckcloth, but he paused when he remembered the burning look of reproach Sabrina had given him last night. The way she had told him he did not know her at all. He stared unseeing into the mirror for a long time before shaking off his doubts. Confound it, she was a damned good actress, that was all. He would not fall for her tricks again.