Sarah walked over to the table, ran her hand across the leather folder as if the words inside could give her strength, and they did. They were her soul.
Whatever else befell her, she must try to see her work staged. She’d borne too much to give up now.
Then you shall never have me.
God, he was a fool.
Pride, his temper . . . and shame stopped Gavin at the top of the stairs in the hotel hall.
She had him in knots. Primal need begged him to go back, to crawl to her if necessary, to take what he wanted from her.
What did it matter that she offered herself to him with all the charm of a bored whore? He could imagine himself fumbling his way with her, laboring over her while she stared at the ceiling and wished she was anywhere else but under him.
Aye, he could have claimed the pound of flesh his money had purchased, could have had his rite of passage—but he would have been disgusted with himself.
Someone was coming up the stairs. Gavin set his hat on his head, pulling the brim low over his eyes as he made his way down. It was hard to walk, to be sane. His body ached for her.
It had taken every measure of his vaunted self-control to not ravage her. But if he had slaked his lust on her, she would hate him forever.
And he didn’t want that from Sarah.
The realization was a bit of a shock. He should not have such strong feelings for her. No good could come of it because there could be no future between them.
She was an actress and he was a duke expected to marry a woman of good family, breeding, and fortune. Why, Sarah was as old as he was. How could he be so attracted to her?
Perhaps her lure was the bit of a mystery about her. She’d put forth a brave face but it had been a false emotion. Her body on the bed had been as taut as the rope on a windlass. The proud spirit he’d always associated with her had vanished and in its place had been fear.
He hadn’t liked seeing her that way. She had been expecting ill treatment. She’d steeled herself for it. Worse, she’d retreated inside herself. He could have been any man. She hadn’t cared.
Gavin stepped out onto the street, drawing deeply of the city’s night air.
The doorman asked if he wished to have a ride signaled for him. He shook his head. He needed the walk. Menheim was less than a mile from the Clarendon.
As he made his way, he could almost hear Rovington laugh at him. If Rov had been in his place, he would have won his bet right or not.
Rovington’s name reminded him that he still had details to settle about the duel.
So he was happily surprised when he returned home to find his youngest brother Ben sitting on the steps in the front hall, a glass of Gavin’s whisky in his hand.
Gavin handed his coat and his hat to the night footman. “Are you a mind reader that you knew I needed to see you?” he asked Ben.
“You missed the Pensions vote today, brother,” Ben replied.
The vote. How could Gavin have forgotten the vote? And yet, once he saw how upset Sarah had been when she’d discovered her plays ruined, he had not been able to leave her. He’d had to stay to be certain she was all right when she woke.
Of course, Talbert had urged him to leave, but Gavin had sent him back to Menheim, promising he would make it to Westminster in time for the vote. In truth, those votes always took hours. There were delays or negotiations. He had meant to be there for it . . . and then he’d started reading Sarah’s play and had lost track of time.
“It slipped my mind.” He moved toward the front reception room where there was always a good supply of his whisky.
“Well, that is a wonder of wonders,” Ben said, following him. “My brother is human. Liverpool will expect an answer, of course, one better than, ‘I forgot.’”
“You will think of one. And how is Elin?” Ben’s wife was expecting their first child.
“Sleepy,” Ben answered. “She has become a true snug in bed. I should also warn you that Mother is greatly offended with you. She had arranged an introduction this evening with you and a suitable young woman?”
Gavin groaned his remorse. Before leaving the room at the Clarendon, Talbert had also reminded him not to forget the engagement for the evening.
“I’ll apologize in the morning and do what I must for the young lady.” What a wrinkle. Gavin knew his mother would, rightly, have more than a few tart words for him. He poured whisky into a glass.
