Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(74)

Lily made a motion to touch her, then withdrew her hand. The velvety eyes filled with sympathy. “Would you like to talk?”

Sara shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m very tired.”

While the two women conversed, Lady Ashby watched them from across the room. She had secluded herself in a corner with Lord Granville, one of many admirers who had unsuccessfully sought her favors for years. The hope of gaining access to her bed kept him coming back time after time, but she had always disdained him. In spite of his reputed virility and his fleshy handsomeness, he’d never had anything she wanted. Until now.

She smiled into his narrow blue eyes. “Granville, do you see that woman standing next to Lily Raiford?”

Indifferently Granville glanced away from her, his gaze alighting on the pair. “Ah, the delightful Miss Fielding,” he commented. “Yes, indeed.” Contemplating Sara’s bountiful charms, he moistened his lips with a thick tongue. “A pretty little bonbon.” He looked back at Joyce, savoring her golden beauty, displayed in a diaphanous lavender gown. “However, I prefer a woman of worldliness and experience—who could satisfy a man of my varied tastes.”

“Indeed.” Joyce’s lovely face took on a hard cast. “We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we, Granville? Perhaps it’s time we made our friendship more intimate.”

A flush of sexual greed worked up from his throat. “Perhaps it is,” he breathed, stepping closer to her.

Delicately she propped her fan against his chest, keeping him at bay. “But first I would ask a favor of you.”

“A favor,” he repeated warily.

“You’ll find it quite pleasant, I assure you.” Joyce’s lips curved in a malicious smile. “When that ‘pretty little bonbon’ as you call her, retires for the evening, I want you to go up to her room and…” Standing on her toes, Joyce whispered her plan to him, while his flush grew deeper. “Consider her a morsel to whet your appetite,” Joyce finished, “before you enjoy the main course later tonight. First Miss Fielding…then me.”

Granville shook his head with momentary dismay. “But there’s a rumor,” he protested. “They say that Derek Craven is enamored of her.”

“She won’t tell him. She won’t tell anyone. She’ll be too ashamed.”

Contemplating the proposition, Granville finally nodded with a chortle of lecherous delight. “All right. As long as you tell me why you want this favor. Has it something to do with your former liaison with Craven?”

Joyce’s chin dipped in a small nod. “I’m going toruin everything he values,” she murmured. “If he is attracted by innocence, I’ll see that it’s debauched. If any woman is fool enough to care for him, I’ll ruin her. I won’t let him have anything…unless he crawls on his knees to beg me for it.”

Granville stared at her in fascination. “What an extraordinary creature you are. A tigress. You swear by all that’s sacred to you that you’ll yield yourself to me tonight?”

“I hold nothing sacred,” Joyce smiled thinly. “But I’ll yield to you tonight, Granville…after you’ve finished with Miss Fielding.”

Gently repelling Lily’s attempts to talk to her, Sara bade her good night and slipped from the ballroom. She went upstairs alone. The music and laughter from the ballroom faded with each step, until she reached the silence of her room. Declining to ring for a chambermaid, Sara managed to struggle from her gown unaided. She left the rich heap of beaded velvet on the floor, along with her white lawn underclothes. It seemed too much of an effort to pick the garments up. After donning her nightgown, she sat down on the edge of the bed and allowed herself to think for the first time since Derek had left her alone in the garden.

“He was never mine to lose,” she said aloud. She wondered if there was anything she could have done differently, any more she could have said. No…she didn’t have reason for regret. It had not been wrong to love him, nor had it been wrong to tell him so. A sophisticated woman might have played her hand more cleverly, but Sara knew little about games. It was best to be open and giving…and if her love wasn’t returned, at least she couldn’t be faulted for cowardice.

Kneeling by the bed, she folded her hands and closed her eyes tightly. “Dear Lord,” she said in a strangled whisper. “I can bear it for a while…but please don’t let it hurt forever.” She was motionless for a long time, while her mind swam with painful thoughts. In the welter of her emotions, there was a trace of pity for Derek Craven. For an instant tonight, quick as a lightning flash, he had been tempted to take the risk of loving someone. Somehow she doubted that he would ever come that close again.

And me? she wondered wearily, extinguishing the lamp and crawling into bed. I’ll just muddle through all of this, and carry on. And someday, with the grace of God…I might be strong enough to love someone else.

For a while Derek lingered in the billiards room with a glass of brandy, only half-listening to the languid conversations of the men who had retreated there for a gentlemanly smoke. The cloying atmosphere made him feel like a caged tiger. He left silently, taking the brandy with him. As he wandered around the first floor of the mansion, Derek saw a flash of white on the grand staircase. Welcoming any distraction over the prospect of returning to the ballroom, he went to investigate. Halfway up the stairs he saw Nicole in her white ruffled nightgown, her long hair a mass of tangles. She huddled by the banister in an effort to conceal herself. Upon seeing him, she held a finger to her lips in a gesture to keep quiet. Casually Derek made his way up the stairs and sat next to her. He rested his arms on his bent knees. “What are you doing out of bed at this hour?”