She stiffened in response and answered, “I know.”
Chapter Nine
The problem was Sara really didn’t know. She felt that lust was a natural part of passion, and passion fed directly into love; they were one in the same. A life without passion was not a life she desired. She had experienced enough of that life her entire existence. But Nicholas appeared to believe they were separate things.
He seemed the type of man who understood himself, but the sadness in his eyes when he spoke made her wonder just how much he knew about love. If he thought the purpose of marriage included only having children and possibly experiencing a small hint of happiness, he was wrong.
If anything, she had learned from the Song of Solomon, that passion and love coexisted—and she doubted very much that Nicholas knew that.
He was right in some respects. His kissing unsettled her—not because she didn’t like it; quite the opposite, in fact. But she felt his many reasons for kissing her had more to do with him than with her. The first was because he was feeding his own lust in the garden, the second time out of anger, and the third time just to prove her wrong.
What she wanted was to share a kiss with someone who truly wanted to kiss her just because she was her. Not because they had anything to prove.
Sara said nothing as Renwick escorted her into the waiting carriage. Instead, she mulled over more Scripture to keep her thoughts in check. She didn’t even notice when they stopped in front of her aunt’s house until Renwick cleared his throat and reached out to touch her hand.
His touch always sent the most incredible sensations in her stomach, she felt about ready to take flight from her seat. She looked into his eyes and smiled. “I’m sorry. My thoughts were far away.”
“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked.
Surely Nicholas Renwick was the spawn of the devil; the king himself would share state secrets with Renwick if he but asked. His velvet voiced paired with his perfect face did nothing for the butterflies in her already fluttered stomach.
“I’m fine.” She exhaled, hearing the ragged breath whoosh past her ears.
He laughed as he helped her down from the carriage. “Don’t forget about Almack’s.”
“Almack’s?” she asked.
Her question was met with a look of surprise in Nicholas’s eyes with an accompanying groan from his throat. “Please tell me you know about Almack’s.”
She shook her head even though it would have been better to lie.
Nicholas smiled before kissing her hand. “Only certain patronages can hand out invitations to Almack’s. One must be invited, and we, my dear, have been invited by Lady Jersey. It seems she is quite taken with you, as is the rest of London.”
Sara curtsied and answered before she could stop herself. “All of London but the one by whom I truly want to be taken.”
She took her leave, but not before noticing a wide-eyed Renwick frozen in shock. Serves him right, she thought before entering her aunt’s house.
Before Sara reached the blessed stairs, she heard her aunt shout out her name. She hung her head in defeat and followed the thunderous voice into the salon where earlier she had met half the ladies of the ton.
“Ah there you are, my gel!” Lady Fenton rose from the tiny loveseat and approached her, arms out in front of her body. “And how was the park?”
For some reason, all Sara could think of was the kiss, and she flushed with embarrassment just in time to meet her aunt’s calculating glare.
“That good?” The corners of her mouth tilted into a smirk. “Well, I have the most wonderful news! Lady Jersey sent invitations to Almack’s tonight. I want you looking your best, my dear, and I have ordered some changes done to your gown.”
Sara was confused. Why would her gown need to look any different? What was her aunt getting at? “I’m grateful for what you’ve done,” she swallowed. “You’ve given me more than I can ever repay, but why go to the trouble of making changes to an already beautiful gown? Considering I am already betrothed to Lord Renwick, I thought…?”
Her aunt’s smile hid no manipulation. It was enough to make Sara’s stomach churn.
“My dear gel, if you were marrying the king himself, I would still make changes to your gown. The rest of the ton must see you as desirable, as the one who got away. Who knows! What if our honorable Renwick does the deplorable thing? Where would we be then? No, my gel. We shall command attention tonight, and you will be the belle of the ball. The duke will see what he is missing, and Renwick will be falling prostrate at your feet. Trust me, my dear. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Sara nodded her head politely, but inside she wanted to scream. Was she to be put on display? As ugly as she was? What type of cruel joke was this? It was difficult enough to go about feeling like a fraud, but it was going to be quite another thing entirely to be presented to the whole of the ton on Renwick’s arm feeling like an overdressed doll. He deserved someone naturally elegant—a swan, not a duck. A plain and ugly little creature. She felt much like the lone squatty duck she had seen this afternoon, but all she truly desired was to be a graceful woman without a care in the world.
“Are you listening?” her aunt snapped at her. It brought her attention careening back to the present.
“Yes, my lady.” Sara curtsied, though she had no idea what she’d just agreed to.
“Good, we shall start immediately. Davina has plans for your hair as well as some face paint. Your dress, however, will not be ready for another hour or so.”
Sara stood there like a statue waiting.
“Well!” her aunt commanded. “Go see to your preparations!”
Sara took that as her cue to leave and nearly tripped up the stairs from running so fast. If only she could actually run away, but then again, it would be in the opposite direction of Renwick, and something inside her twisted each time she thought about never seeing him again. Surely she wasn’t falling for him? He was still a rake with an ill temperament. One minute he looked like he was ready to confess love, the next he would be so angry she feared he would chase her through the park—though she could tell by the look on his face he did not like being slapped. In a way, she did have the upper hand. That thought brought her comfort.
Davina was already in Sara’s chamber making preparations for the bath. “My lady.” She curtsied and helped her scrub every inch of her body until she was practically shining. Afterward she dried her hair by the fireplace while Davina brushed it out, careful not to pull too hard. Davina really did have a way of making Sara feel comfortable and at peace.
By the time her dress arrived, Sara had spent more than a few hours having her face painted and her hair styled. She hadn’t had time to inspect herself in the mirror until she was expected downstairs with Renwick. Davina made her promise to look, so with reluctance, she turned and faced the glass.
Her reflection was unrecognizable, a shadow of her former self. She wore a silver and black trimmed gown which hung loosely to the floor leaving a tiny train in the back. Her neckline plunged lower than any dress she had ever worn, making her worry her bosom would indeed fall out if she were not careful. The back of the dress also cut to the middle of her back, causing her to feel nearly nak*d. In fact, there was not much difference between her dress and some ladies’ night rails. The thought gave her chills. They would either love her tonight or deem her a courtesan.
She descended the stairs gracefully and awaited the inevitable. If Nicholas responded well, the ton would too.
***
Nicholas hated to admit to himself how much he had missed Sai when he left her this afternoon. Her company was intoxicating, making all other reasons for living pale in comparison to her company. Even though her company was also just as much infuriating as it was intoxicating, he couldn’t help but wish he was near her. The earlier kisses he received from her nearly made him fall to his knees in worship. Her innocent kisses struck a chord in his soul that even he felt scared to acknowledge. Her touch was enough to make him swear undying love, though he was certain she would laugh in his face.
Tonight he chose to wear clothes which would do Sai justice. More than anything, he wanted to look classy, not rakish next to her. Hopefully he chose well. His pantaloons were a bit tighter than decency allowed, but he didn’t mind displaying the parts of his body he had trained well during his boxing days.
He heard Lady Fenton clear her throat and turned around. In that second, his heart ceased to beat. Descending the stairs was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life. He had thought her beautiful before, but now, now it was almost painful to look at her. Helen of Troy would have had to relinquish her title in light of Sai’s breathtaking beauty.
Her eyes shone with delight as she smiled his way. The sight made him want to kidnap her immediately and take her straight to Gretna Green. Surely she knew what a stunning portrait she made, how utterly exquisite. Half the ton would be saying it to her face this evening, so he needn’t add to her embarrassment by lavishing his admiration on her now. But it wasn’t until she was directly in front of him that he realized how scandalous her dress truly was. When he realized the thin material clung effortlessly to her legs, he instantly broke out in a cold sweat. He struggled to break his gaze from her but felt drawn like a moth to flame. In the front her dress dipped so low he would probably spend the better part of the night making sure she didn’t fall out of it, and the remaining part of the night keeping the other gentlemen from feasting on her with their eyes.
Her eyes were dark and lazy; she had the look of a seductress down perfectly. Any man would appreciate the woman in front of him, but Nicholas was distraught. He didn’t want to go to Almack’s with a girl who looked like this. Not only would he again be the focal point of much gossip, but she would, too. His reputation did nothing to aid hers. He cursed silently before offering her his arm. “Shall we?” he choked out, noting that his voice sounded strained.
Sai looked down at her dress then back at him as if she had expected him to say something different. The look on her face revealed hurt feelings, and he noticed her break eye contact quickly, nervously. He opened his mouth to speak, but found the words did not come as easily as he would have liked. Finally he clumsily muttered something like, “You look nice.” He made a concerted effort to keep his tone level, but it came out sounding bored. Her arm stiffened beneath his, but it was beyond him how to fix it. Nicholas knew she would get her fair share of compliments tonight, and for now it was all he could do to manage his own impulse to carry her back up the stairs and help her out of the gown. He definitely was going to have a word with Lady Fenton about Sai’s apparel (or lack thereof); she would be wise not to make a habit of dressing his fiancée in such a fashion. It was not good for her reputation, and honestly, it was even worse for Nicholas’s fury. He didn’t want to have to duel a man tonight just because the gentleman found his betrothed irresistibly attractive.
Another long night awaited him; he could feel it in his bones.
Nicholas spent the better part of the carriage ride reciting Scriptures. It was the only thing he could think to do, so he wouldn’t make an absolute fool of himself. Sai had the unfortunate talent of not only rendering him speechless but also of turning him into a lovesick school boy, barely old enough to ride his own horse. It was unnerving and upsetting to say the least. He was just getting ready to recite John 3:16, when he heard her clear her throat.