9. Chapter 9

Chapter nine

James

C ool air whipped through my hair as I rode Atlas, one of Gregory's Thoroughbreds, up the nearest rise, the morning sun heating my back. The ground was still muddy in places from days of rain, but I was glad a clear sky hovered overhead. Fresh air often proved a balm to my troubled soul, and I had spent many mornings at my country estate in much the same manner—upon the back of a horse, galloping over the foggy vales as the sun peeked over the horizon.

It was little wonder that poets frequently chose sunrises as their muse for verses. The peace that came from time in nature was unmatched, in my opinion.

And right now, I needed whatever peace I could find.

Gregory's mare sped past me, and together they reached the top of the rise first.

"You are distracted, my friend," Gregory quipped as I steered Atlas to stand beside them.

"Can you blame me?" I asked. "I feel as though I am on edge from the moment my eyes open until they close each day."

"Not while you sleep as well?" Gregory shot me an incorrigible smirk. "If Her Grace is to make a bold move, entering your bedchamber while you sleep seems to be the most opportune way to go about her designs."

I scoffed. "Don't you dare give her any ideas. This situation you've put me in is difficult enough without having to sleep with one eye open. Thank heavens for locks on doors. "

That sobered Gregory. "Forgive my teasing. You must know I have no desire for you to be shackled to her. After what she put you through, I cannot blame you for wishing to be anywhere but here."

"I would even prefer Town, and that is saying something."

"Indeed. I never thought to hear you confess preferring London to anywhere else. I hope it cannot be all bad. At least we have some time together. Just like our days at Eton, eh?"

We would have had more time if Gregory were not sneaking off till late at night, which then required a late rise, but I had no desire to disrupt my good mood with a discussion about his gambling habits and broken promises just now. "Not quite, but it is a nice sentiment. Which reminds me, I have yet to thank your mother. She has saved me from having Sabrina as a dinner companion. That deserves my gratitude."

As Sabrina and I were both of the highest attending rank, and because Mrs. Davis refused an escort even as hostess, we naturally fell to being dinner companions, but Mrs. Davis had dispensed with formal dinner processions our second night at Fallborn, much to my great relief.

"My mother is fully aware of your history," said Gregory. "And you know she adores you. It is a wonder she has allowed the duchess to stay."

"She is too kind to send her away, but I appreciate her efforts to make me comfortable regardless."

"It was not my mother's idea you know—making Miss Grace a guest of honor the first night. Dining informally since, yes, but you owe someone else gratitude for the former."

"Who? You? I cannot imagine it was your idea."

Gregory laughed, and his horse shifted beneath him. "Is that an insult to my intelligence? No, I suppose you know me well enough. I never would have come up with the idea. That praise belongs to Miss Scott. Mother said it was her idea to save you that first night."

A smile pulled at my lips. Weeks ago I would not have accepted the notion that Miss Scott cared about my feelings and comfort, but she had proven it now thrice over. She quietly observed others, which perhaps made her more aware of their struggles. Then, she acted, using small and subtle gestures of kindness to lighten the burden of those around her. I had seen it in her interactions with her sister and even Mrs. Davis.

Even myself.

"Are you listening?" Gregory nudged my shoulder .

"Hmm? Forgive me, what did you say?"

Gregory shook his head, his brows puckering thoughtfully. "I wonder if Her Grace is the only source of your distraction."

"What other source would there be? I use half the hours each day devising ways to evade her and at least one resenting the fact that I care enough about you to stay." I delivered the last part with a grin so Gregory would know I jested. My irritation with him had faded over the last week. Knowing why he had acted on Sabrina's behalf had helped. It had also transferred all of my ire to the woman. The way she used people to get what she wanted lit a fire in me.

A fire that raged every time I saw her. The bitterness was all consuming and did nothing to lighten my mood.

Gregory shrugged, but his smirk returned. "I don't know. Your attention seems quite pointed at times. On Miss Scott."

My heart lurched, though why I felt as though I had been caught sneaking tarts from the kitchen, I did not know. "It is not for the reason you assume. I would not seek that sort of attention from a woman so deeply embedded in Sabrina's life."

One of Gregory's brows lifted. "Then why do you watch her so intently? I do not blame you, James. She is a lovely woman and, as far as I can tell, quite amiable. Nothing like the duchess." He paused. "Well, besides the lovely part. I cannot deny that Her Grace is a very handsome woman."

I ignored his compliment to Sabrina. "That is just it. Miss Scott does not seem the type who would abide a friendship with someone of Sabrina's character. She is kind, albeit shy at times, and never uses her words to make anyone feel inferior."

Except, perhaps, her tricking Sabrina into reciting incorrect poetry lines. But Sabrina had been entirely oblivious, and Miss Scott had confessed how guilty she felt for having done it. I admired that about her—that she regretted being unkind to someone who deserved it.

"Miss Scott is a conundrum," I said. "She has secrets, and I wish to know what they are. That is the only reason I observe her so intently."

"It is interesting—their relationship, I mean. In London, Miss Scott is rarely seen anywhere but trailing behind the duchess. Rarely speaks. If anyone has secrets, she certainly would. But why do you care so much? As you said, you do not wish to be associated with someone so embroiled in the duchess's life."

How did I explain? It wasn't simply a matter of uncovering Miss Scott's secrets. It was my suspicion that maybe, just maybe, the woman's loyalties were not what they appeared.

Trapped. Caged. Darkness.

Her poem still rattled around my mind, and no matter how hard I tried to forget, the words would not leave me. Miss Scott had stated she did not need freedom from Sabrina like I had, but not one bit of me believed her.

"Something is amiss," I said. "I cannot give you more than that. A gut instinct. We both know Sabrina is more than capable of coercion. She used your debts to get me here, and do not forget, you said Apsley and Miss Grace were invited to ensure Miss Scott would attend. It makes no sense that a friend would require a reason to come. Did Sabrina say any more to you on the matter?"

Gregory's mare shifted beneath him again, likely tired of standing still at the top of the hill. "No. I did not think it strange at the time, but now that you've presented it that way, it does seem odd."

"As odd as Sabrina wanting me here. She married a duke. What could she possibly need from me?"

"What she cannot have?" Gregory chuckled. "Honestly, I wish I had an answer for you. Even London has been sparse on rumors about her since the duke's death."

I turned slightly in the saddle to face him. "Sparse, but not absent?"

"Well, there have been a few, but nothing substantial to explain any of our present circumstances."

I had not been to London in some time, and usually missing out on the news and scandal was something of a blessing, but now I found myself leaning closer to Gregory like a gaggle of graying matrons in the drawing room the morning after a ball. "Tell me. What have you heard?"

"Truly not much. There was a rumor that the duchess had moved to the dower house at the duke's estate in Devon, which seemed strange until I learned that the heir is recently engaged. I suppose it would be awkward to have your stepmother, who happened to be the same age as your wife, living under the same roof. "

Indeed, it would, but that information was not helpful. "Nothing more than that?"

"There was some speculation—heavy speculation, mind you—that Her Grace and the duke's heir did not get on well. Given her efforts to ensnare one duke…"

Gregory did not need to finish for me to understand where the speculation led. If Sabrina was willing to marry someone old enough to be her father just to obtain a title, then she would certainly be willing to play mistress to the man's son.

"You think she tried something with the new duke?" I asked.

Gregory held up a hand. "I am not adding to the speculation. Simply relaying what I heard. All I shall say on the matter is that I think there is more to it all than any of us knows, except for Her Grace."

I had to agree, save for one point. There was one person besides Sabrina who had the answers.

The new Duke of Rochester.

I tucked a new novel underneath my arm and crossed the library to the door. Having finished Guy Mannering , I had decided to brave leaving my bedchamber to retrieve another. Reading had always been an enjoyable pastime for me, but even I could admit that doing it day in and day out without choice grew tiresome. There were three weeks remaining of this house party. Taking a ride on days when the weather permitted could only keep my sanity intact for so long. I needed social interaction.

The problem was, I could not have social interaction without spending time in Sabrina's presence, which therefore hindered my freedom. It was maddening.

I crept out of the library and slowly ascended the stairs, careful to place my footing where I knew would create the least amount of creaking. It was amazing the things a person's mind could remember when self-preservation demanded it.

My mind wandered to Miss Scott. The first time I spoke to her at Fallborn had been in the drawing room before dinner, where she had let slip that she was there early to avoid demands. Demands, I was sure, that came from Sabrina. It also made me wonder if she took the stairs the same way I did, each footstep thoughtfully placed to ensure her presence went unannounced. She likely appeared far more graceful in her ascension than me, though I could not imagine any scenario where she was not an image of beauty and grace.

The thought left an odd sensation in my chest, as if the whole of my insides had filled with hot air. It was not unusual to think a woman handsome. I considered many women of my acquaintance such. But Miss Scott was a different sort of handsome, and I could not pinpoint my own reasoning for it.

Was it the way freckles dotted her face or the endearing blush that tinted her cheeks? Perhaps it was her smile or the way light caught the blue of her eyes when she was amused.

Then there was the feel of her soft skin beneath my fingers—a haunting memory that plagued even my dreams. My heart had never reacted to Sabrina's proximity like that. I had experienced the excitement of being near her or having her on my arm during strolls through Hyde—even experienced the brush of her lips against mine—but the moment alone in the library with Miss Scott had elicited entirely new feelings.

They weren't longings sparked by the giddy excitement of youthful love, but quiet pleadings to hold her close. To feel her. Know her. With Miss Scott, my vulnerabilities felt exposed without my consent, as if she saw me, clearly and fully, even when I tried to hide.

Maybe Gregory's accusations were not as unfounded as I had led him to believe.

My foot landed three steps from the top, and a loud moan tore from the wood. I shifted my weight off the step with a wince, praying I'd been the only one subjected to the complaint.

"James!"

No such luck .

Breathing out a steadying sigh, I turned to look down the stairs. Sabrina stood at the bottom, staring up at me with an all-too-satisfied grin. A cat who had caught her mouse.

She lifted her skirts and ascended the stairs. Instinct screamed for me to run, but I was not so cowardly that I would not confront my problems when faced with them directly.

Hiding in my bedchamber for the last week did not count. That had been purely strategic. A wise captain avoided battle when he could but did not back down when the battle was thrust upon him.

"I fear we have all been worried about you," said Sabrina, stopping a few steps below me.

"And why is that?"

"We so rarely see you, except during meals. Would you not like to join us? This is a house party , after all."

Party was not the word I would have used. House gaol? Was that putting it too harshly? I did feel quite imprisoned, but perhaps it was my own doing. If I made myself blatantly clear that I would not entertain any ideas of courtship, would Sabrina cease her schemes? It was worth a try. It could not possibly make things worse.

I descended a step and lowered my voice. Sabrina needed to hear the words directly, but that did not mean all of Gregory's servants did as well. "I am well aware of the methods you used to get me here, and I wish to make myself perfectly clear. I will never court you again. You will not hear another proposal from me. I would be more than happy to spend time with the other guests if you agree to cease your flirtations and respect that our relationship is permanently at an end. That includes addressing me so informally."

Based on the shift in her expression, the words bristled her pride, and she lifted her chin. "Very well. I will agree to cease flirting so long as you do not initiate it."

Initiate it? The woman was mad if she thought I would ever engage with her.

"But I should warn you that time is limited for you to change your mind," she added.

I nearly laughed. Sabrina was decidedly not a cat; she was a viper. That I had been so blind to her venom and had almost let it poison me was ridiculous. She had never cared for me, and it hurt her ego that I refused to run back to her now.

I clasped my hands behind my back and fought a smile. "An eternity would not be long enough to change my mind. I do have a question for you, though."

Her dark eyes roamed my face as if searching for the intention behind my words. "What question?"

"You received everything you wanted by marrying the duke." I held up my hand when she began to refute my claim, silencing her. "Wealth and title—those were your priorities. You needn't bother to deny it. In fact, I do not fault you for wanting those things and the security they provide. His Grace made you a better offer, and you took it. What I cannot understand is why you wish to regain my affection. You are a duchess. You have enough money to sustain you, comfortably, for the rest of your life. What purpose could I possibly serve you now?"

I lowered my hand and waited for her response. It took her a moment, as if she wanted to calculate her words. "Perhaps I sacrificed the chance of love out of duty. You know my father wanted me to make a prestigious match. He sought to propel himself up the social ladder. I happened to be the simplest solution to doing that."

"And a match with me was not prestigious enough?" I lifted a brow. Sabrina's response wasn't entirely inaccurate. Those things did mean a great deal to her father. But both of them would have greatly benefited from our match. Yes, the duke had held a higher rank than I did and likely more influence, but Sabrina had gone behind my back to gain his attention. If the rumors were to be believed, she had started long before convincing me into a courtship. I was never anything more than a second choice. Love had never had anything to do with it. At least, not on her end.

"My father encouraged me to court the duke," said Sabrina. "It was you I truly wanted."

"Me? Is that why you were so devastated after jilting me? Is that why you sent Miss Scott to deliver that letter and refused to speak with me?" My hand lifted to press against the pocket of my coat, where that very piece of folded paper rested. "What about the months you spent killing rumors that we had ever been engaged? The duke must have known. My attention to you was plenty public. "

Sabrina shifted, clearly discomforted by the accusations. I'd never seen her wear guilt, and I momentarily questioned the authenticity. Was it possible she could feel guilty, at least to some degree?

I descended another step, bringing me closer to her. "Your affections were never anything more than a game. I was blind to it then, but that is no longer the case. Any effort you put into winning me back is pointless. A waste of time. So, if I have not been transparent enough, know that I will never marry you."

Sabrina flinched, but when her dark eyes met mine, they blazed with fury. Not sorrow. My rejection had not broken her as she had me with the letter, and that, itself, was proof that everything I'd stated was true. She would never confess her reason for seeking a second proposal from me. It was quite clear that if I wanted that information, I would need to procure it from another source.

"Good day, Your Grace." I turned around before she could reply and took the stairs to the top. I had a letter to write.