The Ugly Duckling Debutante (House of Renwick #1)(51)

She looked down at his face. “Nicholas Renwick, I do believe you’re trying to seduce your wife again.”

“Is it working?” He cocked an eyebrow.

She looked away, feigning deep thought, like she had to think about it, and drove him completely mad. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Sure.”

“That’s your answer?”

Sara nodded her head.

“You’re a handful.” He shook his head.

“You didn’t mind last night.”

He looked at her and had no words. They had been stolen from his mouth. When had Sara turned into such a, a well he couldn’t really think of the correct word. She was quite literally every man’s perfect woman. Sweet and witty when she needed to be and behind closed doors a wanton temptress. Again, a prayer was offered up to heaven. Whatever he did to deserve her, he wanted to do it again.

“I didn’t mind many things last night,” he answered huskily into her neck.

The carriage came to a complete stop, making Nicholas want to curse. A curse word was on the tip of his tongue just as Sara let one out.

He looked at her and shook his head. “I’m a bad influence on you.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

He didn’t mind, and she didn’t seem to either. He helped her out of the carriage and escorted her up the stairs. It was Lady Delia’s annual ball, and people would be expecting them.

He turned toward Sara. “Are you ready for this?”

“If when you say ready you mean am I ready to go into a ball and enjoy a few waltzes with my husband then yes. If you mean am I ready for all the stares and questions and gawking about our scandalous tie to one another, then…no.”

He smiled, although guilt tugged at his heart. “At least you’re honest.”

She seemed to pale at his comment it gave him the impression she wasn’t being honest, yet everything about what she just said was exactly what he had been thinking. “What’s wrong, Sara?”

She nodded her head. “Fine. I just…thought of something, that’s all. Let’s go.”

He kissed her hand and led her in. Oddly enough, there was no group hush nor were that many people staring at them. He felt immediately at ease. It was possible, or more probable, that some new scandal arose, although he should have caught wind of it somehow. Nobody seemed to be staring at him at all; in fact, most of the people they passed were staring at Sara.

He didn’t blame them; she looked absolutely breathtaking in a deep crimson gown that flowed all the way to the floor. She looked like royalty, and sometimes he felt like nothing more than a footman on her arm.

He smiled at her but noticed her own return smile didn’t reach her eyes. Was she ill?

“Sara?” he whispered into her ear.

“Hmm?” she answered, not looking at him.

“Are you well?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she snapped.

“I uh,” he was again at a loss. Had he said something wrong or done something to offend her? Quite possibly she was upset over the attention.

“It’s nothing.” She waved him away making him feel like an irritating fly. “Let’s dance.”

So they did. They danced twice before Sara was swept away by Hastings, another old duke whom Nicholas found hardly dangerous for her to be dancing with.

He took a sip of punch and looked around. All eyes were still positively fixed upon Sara. It was enough to make even Nicholas feel uncomfortable. Upon closer inspection people weren’t exactly looking at her in awe, nor were they trying to cut her, in fact they just seemed morbidly curious about something.

He shook his head and took another sip of champagne.

“Renwick!” A booming voice said behind him before slapping his back three times.

He turned to see Belverd. “Ah, how are you?” Nicholas asked politely.

Belverd chuckled. “I should be asking you the same thing.”

Nicholas felt his chest swell with pride. “Well, marriage has been good, I will admit that much.”

Belverd looked at him curiously then back at Sara. “Tell me you know, Nicholas.”

So maybe there was some sort of scandal that happened. “Know? I don’t know of anything. Why, what’s going on?”

Belverd looked extremely uncomfortable. Nicholas stood in front of him to keep him from escaping. “Belverd?” he prompted.

“It’s really not my place to say,” he responded hoarsely.

“How am I to know what is and is not your place? Just get on with it before I go mad.” Nicholas half-laughed, half-wanted to punch him.

Belverd leaned in and whispered as softly as a man could, “It was in the gossip pages this morning. I thought you had seen it. Actually, I thought you already knew.”

“You’re driving me insane Belverd. Just tell me; what am I supposed to know?”

Belverd swallowed, then his eyes darted back to Sara. “Your wife…she’s Lady Fenton’s illegitimate daughter.”





Chapter Twenty-One



Nicholas felt the room begin to spin. He looked at Belverd then back at Sara who was now coming toward them, then back at Belverd. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t even see straight. She had lied to him? So he would be manipulated into marrying her? To honor her family name? Did she even need money for her family? She played him for a fool. Of course she’d grown up in the country; most bastard children did until it was time for them to—He couldn’t finish the thought. He needed air or brandy, and considering the brandy was on the far side of the room, he chose air. He pushed past Belverd, and out of the nearest door, knowing very well that many eyes were on him, and wondering what his next move would be, including Sara.