“And if you go back, will you tell them then?”
“It doesn’t matter now.” She grabbed the wine bottle and returned to her seat. She tipped the bottle into her glass, refilling it. “I’ve been awful and selfish, I know. It’s all I can think about. I must return home to face the scandal and the censure. Perhaps someday I will find a man willing to look past my tainted reputation.”
Christian settled back against his chair again and righted his shoulders. “What if Branford still wants you?”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Why would he want a wife steeped in scandal?”
Because you’re exceedingly beautiful.“Trust me, it’s more than possible.”
She sighed, holding her glass just beneath her red lips. “I hadn’t even considered that. I’ve been such a fool. I regret it. I do. I regret it horribly. I’ve been a hideously disobedient daughter.”
Christian narrowed his eyes on her. “You truly believe that?”
“Yes. I feel absolutely sick. Now that I’ve had a chance to calm down and think about everything, I’m certain. I’d do anything to get back to London with no one being any the wiser, but the longer I stay here, the less chance I have of that happening. I fear it’s too late for my reputation. And now I’m stuck here with…”
Christian plucked up his own wineglass and grinned at her again. “Me.”
She nodded miserably.
He lifted the glass and eyed her through the dark liquid. “Well, Lady Sarah Highgate, what if I told you that I can help?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sarah watched him carefully. Why had she never noticed this man before? If he had been to London, surely she’d have met him among the scores of men she’d encountered during her come-out. It would be rude to ask him if they’d met. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
He was quite handsome. True, his face bore the ill-kempt shadowing of many days’ growth of beard, his hair was a bit too long, and his clothes were a bit too coarse. But his smile was charming, and he was kind and witty. And he smelled a bit better ever since he’d gone to apparently wash up. Soap had definitely been involved. He was tall and lean, and those blue eyes were positively mesmerizing. The man had potential. That was certain. And now he was offering to help her.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked. “How could you help me?”
Mr. Forester stood and stretched his long, lean frame. “I’ve found over the years that all hope is not lost until all hope is lost.”
Sarah tilted her head to the side. “What does that mean?”
“Precisely what I said,” Mr. Forester replied. He paced to the fireplace, where he tossed two more small logs onto the pile. “Let’s begin with the facts. I presume you left a note for your parents.”
Sarah nodded. “Yes, for my mother.”
“What did the note say?” He grabbed a poker and jabbed at the logs.
“It simply said I was sorry but Ihadto leave.”
Mr. Forester turned to her. His white teeth flashed in a wide grin. “Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“You’re quite certain? No more details?” he asked.
“That’s correct. Mother must know Mrs. Goatsocks is gone, too, of course, but that’s only because I tried to tell her good-bye and she insisted upon coming with me.”
“A fine chaperone,” Mr. Forester said. “And she just might well have saved your reputation.”
Sarah’s forehead burrowed into a frown. “How?”
“You’ve been quite properly in the company of a chaperone this entire time, so all hope is not lost.”
“The entire time untilnow,” Sarah pointed out.
“Yes, but the only people who know that are you, and me, and Mr. Fergus, and Mrs. Goatsocks herself.” He nodded toward Fergus II. “And this dog here, of course, but something tells me if you give him a biscuit, he’ll agree to keep your secret.”
