Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(59)

Sara fell back a step and felt her face stiffen. It was as if she were standing outside herself, watching the scene from a distance.

“What is it you’re after?” he asked heatedly. “Proof that I love you?”

“Yes,” she stammered. “I…I suppose I am.”

The admission earned no sympathy or understanding. Instead, it seemed to outrage him further. “Such boldness! When I think of the modest, innocent girl you once were…By God, you’re acting more like your blasted Mathilda than yourself! I’m beginning to suspect you succumbed to the advances of some knave in London. What else would explain your behavior?”

Once she might have begged his forgiveness. But now his accusations sparked her own emotions into a white-hot explosion. “Perhaps it’s just that after four years I’m tired of loving you chastely! And if you’re wondering about my virginity, I still have it—much good it does me!”

“You seem to be far more knowledgeable now than before you left.”

“Maybe I am,” she said recklessly. “Does it bother you to think that other men might want me? That I may have been kissed by someone other than you?”

“Yes, it bothers me!” Perry was so enraged that his handsome face was mottled purple and white. “It bothers me enough that I’ve reconsidered my proposal to you.” He enunciated each word like the snap of a leather strap. Flecks of spittle fell to his chin. “I loved you the way you once were, Sara. But I don’t want you as you are now. If you want to be the next Mrs. Kingswood, you’ll have to find some way to change yourself back into the girl I fell in love with.”

“I can’t.” Sara began to storm from the stable, throwing words over her shoulder. “So you may as well tell your mother that the engagement is broken! She’ll be delighted, I’m certain.”

“She’ll feel only sorrow and pity for you.”

Sara stopped abruptly and looked back at him. “Is that what you really think?” She shook her head disbelievingly. “I wonder why you thought you needed a wife at all, Perry. Why marry when you’ve got her to take care of you? If you decide to court other girls in the village, you’ll soon discover how few of them are willing to abide your mother’s high-handed ways. In fact, I can’t think of a single one who would agree to take on the pair of you!”

As she ran out of the stable, Sara thought she heard him call her name, but her pace didn’t slow. She was grateful for the flood of righteous indignation that sustained her. Making her way back home, she replayed the scene several times in her head, feeling alternately furious and ill. When she reached the cottage, she slammed the front door as hard as she could. “It’s over,” she told herself repeatedly, sinking down into a chair and shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s over, it’s over.”

She wasn’t aware of exactly how much time passed before her parents returned home. “How was Reverend Crawford?” she asked dully.

“Splendid,” Katie replied. “Still has his chest complaint, though. His cough is no better than last week. I fear we’re due for another half-heard sermon on Sunday.”

Sara smiled wanly, remembering how hoarse the reverend’s voice had been the previous Sunday. It had been impossible for most of the congregation to hear, especially the elderly parishoners. She began to rise from the chair, but Isaac dropped a letter into her lap. It was addressed to her. “This was delivered to the village yesterday,” he said. “Fine paper, a scarlet wax seal…it must be from a very important person.”

Slowly Sara turned the letter over in her hand, regarding the delicate handwriting and the elaborate crest stamped on the back. Conscious of her parents’ interested gazes, she broke the seal and unfolded the smoothly textured parchment. Silently she read the first few lines.

My Dear Miss Fielding,

Since the delightful occasion when we met, I have remembered you often, and I must confess, with a great deal of curiosity. I would dearly love to hear your account of the assembly, and perhaps take some time to further our acquaintance during an upcoming weekend…

Sara read further and then looked up at her parents’ quizzical faces. “It’s from the countess of Raiford,” she said in astonished wonder. “I had the opportunity to meet her while I was in London.”

“What does the letter say?” Katie asked.

Sara looked back down at the letter. “She…she has invited me to stay at Raiford Park for a weekend in Hertfordshire. There will be a ball, grand dinners, fireworks…more than two hundred guests…She writes that they have need of someone ‘bright and fresh’ like me to liven the conversation…” Sara gave an incredulous laugh. “She can’t really mean to invite someone like me to a gathering of the haut ton.”

Reaching down for the letter, Katie held it at arm’s length and squinted at it in an effort to read. “How extraordinary.”

“I couldn’t possibly accept,” Sara said. “I don’t have the right kind of clothes, or a private carriage, and I wouldn’t know a soul—”

“And Perry would hardly approve,” her father pointed out.

Only half-hearing the comment, Sara shook her head in confusion. “Why would she desire my presence at an event of this sort?” Sara caught her breath as a terrible thought occurred to her. Perhaps Lily thought that inviting a country bumpkin would serve as entertainment for her sophisticated guests. They would find no end of amusement in baiting a shy, plainly dressed novelist in their midst. The drumming of her pulse seemed to fill her ears. But as she recalled Lily’s sparkling smile, she was ashamed of her own suspicions. She would regard Lily’s invitation as the kindhearted gesture that it was.