Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(77)

Lily’s gaze moved from Sara’s distraught face to Derek’s impassive one. “That filthy goat Granville,” she muttered. “I’ve always known he was a lecherous bastard, but that he would dare attack a guest under my roof…Well, Alex is booting him off the estate right now, and after I’m through, Granville won’t be received by anyone in the ton. Here, I thought this might help.” She handed a glass of whiskey to Derek. “Between the two of you, I can’t decide who needs it more.”

He gave it to Sara, who sniffed cautiously and shook her head.

“No—”

“Drink some for me,” he insisted gently.

She tried a small swallow and coughed as it burned her throat. “Ugh.” She made a face at the vile taste. Gingerly she took another sip, and then another.

Derek pushed the whiskey back as she tried to give it to him. “Keep sipping.”

Lily pulled a chair to the bed and sat down. Removing the jeweled bandeau from her forehead, she rubbed her temples distractedly. Catching Sara’s worried glance, she produced a wry smile. “Well, now you’ve had your first scandal. Don’t worry, Derek and I are old hands at this sort of thing. We’ll take care of everything.”

Sara nodded uncertainly, lifting the glass to her lips. The more she drank, the easier it was to swallow, until she felt unsteady and very warm, as if heat were radiating from her bones. At first she thought she would never sleep again, but soon the frenzied thoughts in her mind were replaced by exhaustion. Derek and Lily began to talk idly, making noncommittal remarks about the ball, the guests, even the weather.

Derek softened his voice as he watched the whiskey taking effect. Gradually Sara’s eyes closed, and she gave a small yawn. Her breathing became even and deep. She looked like a child nestled beneath the covers, her hair rippling over the pillow, her long lashes fanning her cheeks. Assured that she was asleep, Derek stroked the palm of her hand with his fingertip, marveling at the softness of her skin.

Lily watched him with a trace of amazement. “You do love her. Until this moment I never really thought it could happen to you.”

He was silent, unable to admit the truth.

Lily spoke again. “She’s in serious trouble, Derek.”

“No, I got here in time. He didn’t hurt her.”

Although Lily’s voice was low, it didn’t alter her intensity. “Think, Derek. It doesn’t matter if Granville actually raped her or not. No one will have her now. No one will believe she hasn’t been ruined. The rumors will follow her back to the village. People will gossip and torment her for the rest of her life. Mothers will keep their children away from her ‘corrupting influence’—she’ll be a pariah. You have no idea how backward these people are. I grew up in the country, I know what it’s like. If some man does condescend to marry her, he’ll consider her secondhand goods. She’ll have to be grateful the rest of her life, and endure whatever kind of treatment he decides to mete out. God, if only I hadn’t invited her here!”

“If only,” he agreed coldly.

“Well, how was I to know Granville would take it in his head to do something like this?”

Derek swallowed hard, dropping his accusing stare. He looked at the slumbering innocent beside him, and fingered a silken lock of hair. “Tell me what’s to be done now.”

“To make Sara respectable again?” Lily shrugged helplessly. ‘‘We find someone for her to marry. The sooner the better.” She gave him a sarcastic glance. ‘‘Any candidates in mind?”

Sara awakened early, staring blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling. It took several minutes for her to recall where she was. Rubbing her eyes, she groaned miserably. Her temples throbbed with a sharp ache. She felt more than a little queasy. Carefully she crept out of bed and fumbled for her gray gown. When she was fully dressed, her hair tied back at the nape of her neck, she rang for a maid. Françoise appeared, wearing an expression so sympathetic that it was clear she knew about the previous evening.

Pale and controlled, Sara smiled at her briefly. ‘‘Françoise, I need your help to pack my belongings.” She gestured to her clothes. ‘‘I’m going home as soon as possible.”

The maid began to chatter, gesturing to the door and mentioning Lady Raiford’s name.

‘‘The countess wishes me to see her?” Sara asked, puzzled.

Françoise made a careful effort to speak in English. ‘‘If you please, mademoiselle…”

‘‘Certainly,” Sara said, although she had no desire to talk with Lily or anyone else this morning. She would rather slink away and try to forget that she had ever come to Raiford Park.

The house was quiet as Sara followed Françoise to the east wing, where the Raifords’ private suites were located. At nine o’clock, it was too early for most of the guests to have risen. Only the servants were up and about, dusting, emptying slops, carrying armloads of kindling, cleaning grates, and lighting fires.

Françoise led her to a small sitting room decorated in shades of white and powder-blue, filled with elegant furniture of Sheraton design. Giving her an encouraging smile, the maid left. Sara entered the empty room and wandered to the half-moon table against the wall. The table bore a display of carved jade, ivory, and lapis animals. Picking up a tiny jade elephant, Sara examined it carefully. She started as she heard Derek Craven’s voice behind her.