CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Hello, Mildred.”
“Hello, Nicholas, you scamp. I was wondering if I’d ever see your face again.”
“I apologize for declining your supper invitation.”
“We missed you terribly, but we simply have to learn to get along without your charming company.”
They were in her front parlor, and she was aware that the energy in the house had changed. All morning, Sarah had been jumpy and distracted. Mildred had finally chased her out to run some errands and calm down.
She hoped, by the time Sarah returned, some of her equanimity would have been restored. Had she known Nicholas would stop by? Was that why she’d been pacing and wringing her hands?
Mildred stared at him, speculating over his purpose, but he was a gambler so it was hard to glean any information from his expression. It was a blank slate.
“Why brings you by?” she asked. “Sarah’s not here—if that’s what you were expecting. She’ll be sorry to have missed you.”
“I came to talk to you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Could I speak to you—alone?”
“Of course.”
Winston was in the chair next to her. At Nicholas’s request for a private conversation, he bristled.
“I’m Mildred’s oldest friend, and we’re barely acquainted with you, Mr. Swift. Anything you have to say to her you can say to me.” He smiled a fawning smile at Mildred. “I’ll stay—if that’s all right with you.”
“It’s not all right with me, Winston. You treat me as if I’m a child, and I really have to decide whether you can visit me in the future. Aren’t you departing this afternoon? Why don’t you head to your room and pack your bag?”
He grimaced with distaste. “You don’t have to be rude, Mildred, and I don’t treat you like a child.”
“Don’t exhaust me more than you already have or I will raise the topic of your chat with Sarah the other night. I had intended to let you slink away without mentioning it, but if you continue to annoy me, I’ll throw it all on the table.”
He blanched, then tucked away his reaction. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“She showed me the coin you used to bribe her, and I told her to drill a hole through it and wear it as a necklace so she can flaunt it at you whenever you’re sitting at my dining table and eating my food.” She waved toward the vestibule. “Go, Winston, or I will have Mr. Swift escort you out.”
Nicholas was standing over by the door. He looked very tough, and he flashed a glare at Winston that could have melted lead. Winston huffed and complained, but pushed himself to his feet.
“I’m sure this blackguard is about to ask you for money,” he muttered to her. “Don’t you dare give him any.”
“Or what? Will you tattle to my nephew? Leave me be, Winston. You’ve worn out your welcome.”
He stomped out, and as he passed Nicholas he attempted to match the younger man’s glower, but he couldn’t begin to. She and Nicholas waited, listening as he marched up the stairs, then Nicholas closed the door and sat in the chair across.
“I thought I would have to drag him out for you,” he said.
“He and my nephew view me as a toddler who needs a nanny. I hate to quarrel so I’ve tolerated it for years, but I’m growing weary.”
“I can tell that about you.”
“Most men are fools, and I’ve rarely met one who altered that opinion. It appears you have an important subject to address, and I pray you won’t land yourself in a pile with all those other male dolts.”
“I’ll try my best not to.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
He’d brought a satchel, and he retrieved some papers from it and stacked them on the table between them. His posture reminded her of Robert and how he’d carried himself. She enjoyed watching him move, and she suspected what was coming. She braced, determined not to get her hopes up. They’d been dashed too often.
“Well, Nicholas, what is it? I’m dying to hear.”
“It’s difficult. I hadn’t imagined it would be, but I guess it is.”
“I’ve always found it’s easiest to simply spit it out. Let’s toss it out in the open so I can figure out how to proceed. Is it about Sarah?”
“No. This is about something else. Something better.”
“Something better than proposing to Sarah?”
He assessed her carefully, and she realized he was reeling her in and very possibly about to run a scam, but she wasn’t a dunce. If he assumed he could trick or swindle her, he’d find a very worthy adversary.
“First,” he said, “I should confess that my befriending your nephew wasn’t an accident. I deliberately sought him out so I could ultimately be introduced to you.”
“Why? Please don’t let this be about a bit of money. I’d be so disappointed.”
“No, it’s not about that.”
“Dubois advises me that you had a birthday on Saturday.”
“I did.”
“A big birthday. You turned thirty.”
“Yes.”
She took a deep breath, struggling to remain calm and in control. She wouldn’t exhibit an untoward display of emotion. She’d envisioned this moment on a thousand different occasions, and she was prepared for any eventuality.
“Is that what you’d like to discuss?” she asked. “Your birthday?”
“That’s part of it, but I want to show you some documents I’ve had in my possession.”
“All right.”
“I was raised by a woman named Peggy Swift—you might have known her as Pegeen Swifton—but she wasn’t my mother.”
She absolutely recognized the name, and her pulse raced. Pegeen had been a lazy housemaid in her father’s house. While Mildred had been at the unwed mother’s home, Pegeen had been fired for sloth. On Mildred’s release from the facility, she’d been suffering from such terrible melancholy that she’d never pondered the incident.
“Pegeen would never tell me who my parents were,” he explained. “She claimed she couldn’t tell me, that she’d been paid for her silence. But she was a drunkard, and when she was in her cups she’d taunt me with tidbits about my past.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“After she died, I stumbled on these papers, and they pointed me to the place where I had to search.”
So…here they were. At the end of the road. They stared and stared, and finally she said, “Let me see.”
He handed them over. “Analyze them for as long as you like.”
“What if I don’t believe the information they contain?”
“If that’s your decision, I’ll have to accept it, but examine them for me. Take as long as you need. Then we’ll talk.”
He stood and went to the front window, and he gazed out at her quiet street, looking at nothing in particular. She studied his back, wishing she could open up the top of his head to peer in at his mind and figure out what schemes and plots were rolling through it. Once she’d filled her eyes with the sight of him, she pulled away and began to read.
* * * *
Sarah was tromping down the sidewalk, wondering if she dared start for home. It had to be after one o’clock, but she’d been so nervous she hadn’t kept track of the time.
From the minute she’d awakened, she’d been in a pathetic state.
She was so happy! She was so excited! She’d bitten her tongue all morning, being desperate to apprise Mildred of her betrothal. She’d grown so irksome that Mildred had kicked her out of the house, sending her off to complete some needless errands, but it hadn’t been much of a tonic for what ailed her.
She was thinking about Nicholas and what they’d done together. To her great alarm, she was calculating how she could sneak him back into her bed. Every aspect of the torrid coupling had been astonishing, and she was eager to experience all of it again.
Deep down, was she a strumpet? She wasn’t supposed to have liked it so much, but she couldn’t help how delighted she was. Nicholas Swift—the most handsome, dashing rogue in the kingdom—was about to be hers forever.
How soon could they marry? By the following afternoon, would she be a bride? Where would they live? How would they live? Would they always be as ecstatically content as she was at that very moment?
The questions had her so befuddled she wasn’t watching where she was going. She hurried around a corner and bumped into a woman approaching from the other direction.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Pardon me,” Sarah hastily said. She reached out to steady the other woman, but as she straightened she frowned. “Desdemona? Why are you strolling down the sidewalk like a normal person?”
“You nearly knocked me down!”
“I apologize, although if I’d realized it was you I might not have been so quick to grab you and keep you from falling.”
“Aren’t you amusing?” Desdemona smiled a tight smile. “You have such a smart mouth, but why are you so prone to use it? No one cares what you think.”
“You’re absolutely correct,” Sarah retorted. “Would you excuse me? I’m busy, and I’m sure you are too. There’s no need for me to delay you another second.”
She stepped to move by her cousin, but Desdemona stepped too to block her way.
“How is Nicholas?” Desdemona asked, her demeanor caustic. “Did he spend the night with you or was he off with someone else?”
Sarah’s cheek flushed a hot shade of scarlet. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Don’t you? From how you’re blushing, I know precisely where he was.”
“You’re being ridiculous, Desdemona. As always.”
Her cousin smirked. “I predicted he’d have found a new tart already. Apparently, he attempted to seduce you but couldn’t, and I doubted he’d go without a paramour for long. But it looks as if he’s succeeded with you after all. I hope he won’t expect me to pay up. I consider the wager to be ended.”
“Pay up? What are you talking about? What wager?”
“You can’t have thought his attention was genuine.”
“I’m barely acquainted with Mr. Swift, and he certainly hasn’t showered me with any attention other than simple friendship.”
“Friendship? Is that what they’re calling a hearty tumble these days?” Desdemona tsked with disapproval. “You can’t believe he’d be fascinated by you. Please tell me you’re not that foolish, Sarah.”
“Des, you’re spewing riddles, and I have to finish my errands.”
“How many times did you spread your legs? Once? Twice? Or has he swivved you on a dozen raucous occasions? Will the next gossip about you include the scandalous news that you have a babe in your belly?”
“I can never figure out why I try to be civil to you.”
“He told me he’d given up on you. I pestered him to explain why, but he claimed he hates virgins, and you weren’t worth the bother.”
The comment made Sarah pause. Desdemona was always horrid, but the remark seemed particularly loathsome even by her low standards.
“You discussed my maidenly condition with Mr. Swift? Seriously, Desdemona?”
Desdemona scoffed. “I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are. You love to insult me, but why? You’ve inherited everything that used to be mine so you’re living my life. Why gloat? Why be so cruel to me?”
“I’m cruel because I like to be.”
“Bully for you, but I don’t have to stand here and listen to you spouting your venom.”
“You think you’re so clever,” Desdemona fumed. “You think you’re better than me.”
“Let’s not travel down this road. Goodbye.”
She might have pushed on by, but Desdemona said, “Nicholas and I entered into a wager over you.”
“You did not.”
“I mentioned what a pompous little shrew you are, and he agreed with me. We decided we’d like to quash some of your unbridled arrogance.”
“I wish you’d find other ways to entertain yourself so you could stop worrying about me.”
“We felt the best method was for him to ruin you. We bet twenty pounds on it, but I told him your virginal knees were pressed so tightly together he couldn’t pry them apart with a shovel.”
“You’re deranged, Des.”
“Am I? He paid me the twenty pounds yesterday and declared himself the loser. He insisted he tried and tried with you, but he couldn’t make any headway. I begged him to describe how you look without your clothes, but he wouldn’t divulge a single detail.”
“I’ve heard enough,” Sarah muttered.
“It seems he went back and tried again. Clearly, he emerged victorious. What changed your mind? Has he promised his undying devotion? How did he accomplish it?”
Sarah should have kept her mouth shut and marched away, but before she could bite down the words, she blurted out, “Nicholas loves me, but you wouldn’t know about that sort of deep sentiment.”
“Nicholas loves you? Sarah, that is the oldest line in the libertine’s book. You can’t have fallen for it.”
“We’re marrying as soon as we can obtain a Special License.”
“You actually assume Nicholas Swift would wed you? You? You’re a penniless spinster!” Desdemona laughed, but it sounded like a witch’s cackle. “You are too, too hilarious.”
“The ceremony is tomorrow,” Sarah stoically stated.
“You and Nicholas Swift? I don’t think so. Clayton and I are returning to London tomorrow. Nicholas is accompanying us. There’s a high-stakes card game starting on Saturday, and he always plays in it. It’s where he earns most of his money for the year.”
“He’s not going to London with you,” Sarah loyally said.
“You’re an impoverished nobody, and you suppose he’d give up a year’s worth of income for you?”
“I’ll send you an announcement after it’s over.”
Desdemona’s expression softened a tad, and for a moment she wasn’t quite so spiteful. “You really believe him, don’t you? Oh, my. This won’t end well.”
They were in front of the hotel where Sarah and Mildred had seen Nicholas strolling with Desdemona when they’d ridden back from the cemetery. The door of the establishment opened, and Mr. Farnsworth bustled out. Desdemona motioned for him to join them.
“Clayton, darling, I’ve been conferring with Sarah about her infatuation for Nicholas Swift.”
“Hello, Miss Barrington. Or is it Henley? How should I address you?”
“Miss Henley is fine,” Sarah said.
“You’re infatuated?” he huffed. “Egad! He’s not the type of fellow with whom you should be consorting. It causes me to wonder if you have the moral temperament required to live with my aunt.”
Sarah wouldn’t discuss Mildred with him, and she certainly wouldn’t dawdle in the street and allow him to scold her.
“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Farnsworth, and I’ll be sure to share your opinion with Mildred. Now then, I must be off.”
But Desdemona wouldn’t let it rest. “Clayton, remember the wager I made with Nicholas? It was about Sarah. You were there.”
Sarah thought her heart would stop as Mr. Farnsworth said, “Yes, yes, the two of you were bickering over her chastity and whether he could relieve her of it.”
Sarah gasped. She couldn’t hold it in. “That’s not true. It can’t be.”
Mr. Farnsworth glared at Desdemona. “You challenged him for not being skilled enough to seduce her, and he insisted he was. He claimed he could debauch anyone, and you claimed he couldn’t.”
“My cousin has fallen for the dashing scoundrel,” Desdemona told him. “She thinks he’s genuinely fond.”
Mr. Farnsworth frowned at Sarah. “Miss Henley, you can’t be that stupid.”
Desdemona continued. “What was the amount of my bet with Nicholas, Clayton? Do you recall?”
“Twenty pounds.”
Sarah collapsed slightly, and Mr. Farnsworth reached out to steady her as she asked him, “You’re positive it was twenty pounds?”
“Yes,” Mr. Farnsworth answered. “It was the reason he finagled the invitation to Bath from my aunt. He wanted to be in close proximity to you so he’d have more chances to coerce you.”
“There you have it, Sarah. You’re not quite so cocky now, are you?” Desdemona peered at Mr. Farnsworth. “When is Nicholas heading to London? We’ve been debating if he plans to leave for town or not.”
“He’s leaving tomorrow.”
“Why is he going?”
“For the card game. He reserved a seat months ago.”
Desdemona nodded. “Clayton, it appears Nicholas has won his bet regarding Sarah.”
“Desdemona!” Sarah snapped.
But her cousin wouldn’t be silenced. She said to Mr. Farnsworth, “You’ll have to speak to your aunt about it. She shouldn’t employ such a tart. It’s beyond the pale.”
Mr. Farnsworth swung to Sarah again. “Is this true, Miss Henley? Are you ruined by Nicholas Swift?”
Sarah was so overcome she couldn’t reply. Their revelations were shocking and disturbing, and she had no idea what to make of them.
She and Nicholas were in love. That very moment, he was at Mildred’s house and asking for Sarah’s hand in marriage. They would get a Special License and wed in a day or two. Wouldn’t they?
Then she considered how little she actually knew about him. His world was one of dissolute companions and gambling. Would he have chatted with Desdemona and blithely wagered over Sarah? Would he have laughed about what a libertine he was and how easily he could convince her to succumb?
Would he behave in such a crass manner? Would he loaf in a crowd of people and jest over a maiden’s downfall? She simply couldn’t imagine it occurring, but how could she be sure? What if she arrived at Mildred’s only to discover that he hadn’t visited? What then?
She had to talk to him at once. She had to look him in the eye and ask him about Desdemona’s accusations. He wouldn’t be able to lie to her. She’d detect any falsehood. At least she thought she would.
She was a loyal person. She was a faithful person. She had good judgment and made prudent choices. She couldn’t be so wrong about him and his motives. No man could feign the affection he’d shown her.
And yet…and yet…
The first time she’d ever seen him, he’d been swimming with a nude Desdemona. Was such risqué conduct common for him? What if they married and he informed her that he planned to regularly participate in such depraved displays? What if he intended to persist with his philandering?
She was dizzy with distress, and she couldn’t move. How would she get home? Which direction was she to go?
What if…what if…what if…
She was shaken out of her stupor by Winston Winthrop rushing up to them.
“Clayton!” he called. “I’ve been searching everywhere.”
“Calm yourself, Winston. You’ve found me.”
“You won’t believe what’s happened. I listened through the parlor window.”
Mr. Farnsworth blanched. “How bad is it?”
“You’ll have to take the action you arranged. You’ll never stop it otherwise.”
“Excuse me, ladies,” Mr. Farnsworth said to her and Desdemona. “Winston and I must confer in private.”
He clasped Mr. Winthrop’s arm, and they hastened off. Desdemona watched them depart, then she turned to Sarah. “You’re green around the gills, Cousin. I hope you’re not ill. A babe in the belly can bring on nausea. Are you feeling sick to your stomach?”
“Shut up, Desdemona.”
“Has Nicholas planted a little Swift where he shouldn’t have?”
Again, Sarah should have declined to comment. What was the point of trading insults? But she couldn’t resist. “We heard from that gypsy, Dubois, that you and Jasper will lose everything next year. Dubois is incredibly accurate in his predictions so you better brace yourself.”
“You obnoxious shrew!” Desdemona shrieked. “That reading is none of your business! How dare you mention it!”
“Write to me after tragedy strikes. I can give you advice on how to regroup and carry on.”
Desdemona bellowed a string of curses that had passersby halting and gawking. Sarah spun and ran, and she kept running until she couldn’t continue on another step.
She paused to get her bearings. There was a rock wall beside her, and it was the one where she’d tarried a few nights earlier with Nicholas. She sat down on it, and she dawdled forever, pondering each of Desdemona’s hateful words, but it was too painful to reflect on the conversation.
Why was life so hard? Why were people so cruel?
She had to speak to Mildred, had to learn if Nicholas had visited. What if he had? What if he hadn’t?
Consumed with dread, weary beyond imagining, she pushed herself to her feet and proceeded on to Mildred’s house. What would she find when she arrived?