Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow. Anne O'Brien

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СКАЧАТЬ drawn into the set who danced and feasted and discussed matters of triviality or importance from dawn to dusk. Sarah found it easy to admire the pretty Duchesse who remained cheerful despite her agonising failure to bear her lord, whom she so clearly adored, a son.

      It was, as Joshua had told her, the time of Carnival, the days of mad revelry before the onset of the abstinence of Lent. Days of feasting and dancing, in private houses and in the streets, days and nights when no one slept. When visits to the opera or the open-air boulevard entertainments became the priority for the aristocracy. When even King Louis joined the procession of carriages and the masked revellers through the streets of the capital and the de Berris were frequently to be seen at the public festivities.

      In Paris the shops were without doubt magnificent. Even Sarah could not but be entranced by the richness and beauty as she strolled along the rue Vivienne or the Champs-Elysées to the Tuileries Gardens. She could hardly wait for Theodora to join her. Meanwhile she strolled with Joshua when he visited Galignani’s famous bookshop and reading room to meet and exchange news with any number of English visitors, as well as read the English newspapers and magazines delivered daily.

      Although she would never speak of it to him, it could not but impress her how graciously Lord Joshua Faringdon was received. How much at ease he was. She could not but admire his address and presence as he introduced her to the Parisian beau monde, ensuring her immediate acceptance into the most magnificent of private homes and châteaux, at a gossipy breakfast, a fashionable and erudite salon, a formal diplomatic ball or a frivolous bal costume. Sarah might eschew the extravagant costumes worn by some—how could she possibly consider the dress of a Peruvian princess as suitable attire?—but the opportunity to wear a silver silk-and-taffeta domino over her gown with a seductively feathered mask to cover her face—how could any lady, even the quietly reserved Lady Faringdon, resist such delights? And when it came to the dancing she discovered herself perfectly adept at mastering the steps of the polka, the polonaise, and even the mazurka with its hectic Polish folk tunes. Lord Joshua was able to partner her with sure steps, impeccable grace and timing and superb sartorial elegance. How unfair it was. But her heart swelled with unspoken love and pride when he led her into a waltz and held her close, when she felt the strength and warmth of his satin-clad arm rest around her waist, to the jealous glances of any number of far more beautiful ladies than she could ever claim to be. Sarah smiled in utter contentment.

      Sometimes, when at leisure, she allowed herself to recall her own upbringing in the little Jacobean manor house in Whitchurch, comfortable enough, of course, but where both affection and money were sadly lacking, from which her marriage to John Russell had been a welcome escape. Only to be forced to return to Whitchurch by a series of catastrophic events, not least the death of her husband. There was little of that naïve and shy girl to be seen now in fashionable Lady Faringdon, she mused, as she smoothed a pair of delectable lavender kid gloves over her smooth, well-cared for hands. But under the surface… there lurked the distressing lack of confidence that still struck her at the most inconvenient moments. Leaving her to feel unworthy of being noticed, much less being the recipient of affection—or even love. There was little point in her lecturing herself over it again—it just happened, rather like being struck down by a sudden heady cold. She smiled at the thought. But it afflicted her much less than it had in the past and she believed that she had learned to live with her guilt for past sins. Here in Paris she was accepted into society in her husband’s name and, perhaps a little, on her own merit.

      And although she was aware of and sometimes irritated by the ripple of interested gossip when they entered a room, the welcoming smiles and flirtatious glances of the beautiful women who wore their jewels with such casual assurance and hid their expressions behind feathered fans, Sarah had the relief of knowing that here in Paris she was not being followed. Not once did she feel the soft footstep of an anonymous figure behind her. Whoever had been sufficiently interested in her movements had been left behind in London. But she did not speak of it to Joshua. He would deny it anyway. She had no wish to destroy the present comfortable harmony between them.

      Theodora and Nicholas arrived in Paris as expected. Sarah came upon Thea arranging the disposal of their luggage at the Faringdon house in Paris with all the skill of a lady of many and distant travels in the company of her mother and ambassadorial father.

      ‘Sarah! We have arrived at last.’ Thea embraced her sister. ‘How well you look and how fashionable. It is so many years since I last visited Paris for any length of time—not since my father was with the embassy here. I expect the shops are as enticing as ever. Shall we explore them this afternoon?’

      ‘Are you not too tired after your journey?’ Sarah already knew the reply.

      ‘When is my wife ever tired when there is the possibility of spending money on dresses and smart hats and the like?’ Nicholas had entered the hall behind them and now saluted Sarah on her cheek with grace and humour. ‘As my lady says, Sarah, marriage becomes you. But why you should feel comfortable as Sher’s wife, I know not.’ The glint in his eyes belied the sharp thrust at his cousin’s expense.

      Sarah blushed, but could not mistake Thea’s subtle elbow in Nicholas’s ribs.

      ‘I am sure he is the perfect husband,’ Theodora stated. ‘Will you come with us, Nicholas?’

      ‘No. You do not need me, I am assured.’

      Thea kissed him, allowing him to curl an arm around her waist, to pull her close, in the relative privacy of the entrance hall. ‘I promise not to spend too much.’ She lowered her lashes, flirtatious as ever.

      ‘Don’t promise that—or we shall both be disappointed when you do.’ He returned the caress to her cheek when she offered it. ‘I trust Sarah to keep an eye on you, as your elder sister.’

      ‘An impossible task to place on my shoulders!’ Sarah smiled and Thea crowed with laughter, which filled Sarah with delight that her family had joined her. There was nothing now to prevent her enjoying her first experience of the fashionable and sophisticated life offered by the French capital.

      Sarah’s equanimity, however, at the covetous glances cast at her husband was severely overthrown during one hot and deplorably overcrowded evening at the home of Pozzo di Borgo, the Russian Ambassador. Afterwards she could not say what had made her aware, to turn her head at that precise moment. A faintest shiver of anticipation along her spine. But she felt a need to look over her shoulder—to see her lord standing at the entrance to a private anteroom. Tall, straight and splendidly handsome in the dark severity of formal evening clothes. As was now very familiar to her, her heart fluttered and her cheeks grew pink with sheer delight in his presence—until she saw that he was in close and intimate conversation with a woman. A woman whose lovely face and superb figure were horribly familiar. The conversation between the two was clearly of a serious nature and in some depth. Then her lord was bowing over the lady’s hand, raising it to his lips.

      Olivia Wexford. Of course.

      Sarah could not see Joshua’s expression, but she could view the Countess’s face without interruption. Perhaps a little cool and serious at first. The faintest of frowns between her arched brows. Some sharp words from her expression. Then her face warming with a charming sparkle in her eyes and a flirtatious little smile curving her lips. She tapped Lord Faringdon’s arm with her fan. There could be no mistaking so provocative a gesture for what it was. An invitation!

      Sarah turned away. She did not wish to see more. The pain in her heart stabbed deeply, more than she could ever have believed. But she should have expected no less. Joshua had not married her for love. Sarah had acknowledged that incontrovertible fact at the very beginning, acknowledged, reluctantly, that he would continue to give his affections elsewhere. But she could not like the Countess of Wexford, remembering her sly malice and deliberate desire to harm. In fact, СКАЧАТЬ