Regency Christmas Vows. Anne Herries

said, from behind them, and Sarah swung round to see her godfather in the doorway.

      The Earl of Woodallan was leaning heavily on his stout ash stick and looked a lot older than Sarah remembered, but the expressive dark eyes, so like his son’s, were as sharp as ever. ‘Lady Amelia…’ he gave as courtly a bow as ever his son could achieve ‘…and Sarah, my dear! What a delightful surprise! And Sir Greville, too! Well, Guy—’ he turned to his son, the sardonic gleam in his eye belied by a smile ‘—good to see you back again, boy!’

      ‘Sir!’ Guy hurried forward to shake his father’s hand, and Sarah took advantage of the moment to step back, throwing her godmother a pleading glance.

      ‘If we could be permitted to change our clothes, ma’am—’

      ‘Of course, my love.’ The Countess swept up her goddaughter and Amelia, and shepherded them towards the stairs. ‘Come along with me! The gentlemen are quite preoccupied and will not notice—’

      The Earl’s voice stayed them as they reached the half-landing.

      ‘Charlotte, be sure to deliver Miss Sheridan to the blue drawing-room just as soon as she is ready! Guy will be waiting for her!’

      ‘Like father, like son,’ the Countess murmured under her breath. ‘I fear that an autocratic nature is in the Woodallan blood!’

      It was three-quarters of an hour later that Sarah descended the stairs again. She was clean and dry, dressed in a becoming russet gown belonging to the younger of Lady Woodallan’s daughters and with her hair neatly braided into a bun on the top of her head.

      ‘Too austere, Miss Sheridan,’ was Guy’s comment as he ushered her into the blue drawing-room. ‘You are too soft and sweet to pretend to such severity!’

      He, too, had changed into clean buckskins, polished boots and an olive green jacket that fitted his broad shoulders to perfection. Sarah, experiencing a traitorous rush of feeling on seeing him, immediately went on the attack.

      ‘By what right do you criticise my appearance, sir? Kindly refrain from becoming too personal!’

      Guy grinned, unabashed, and gestured her to a chair before the fire. ‘That was precisely the matter I wished to discuss with you, Miss Sheridan—Sarah. May I call you Sarah?’

      ‘I am surprised you trouble to ask, sir!’ Sarah said hotly. ‘No, you may not!’

      ‘Very well then, Miss Sheridan, I will not provoke you!’ Guy sat down opposite her. Sarah, who was feeling quite on edge, resented his assumption of ease. ‘I am grateful to you for granting me a hearing. I feared you would not. My behaviour in Bath—’ He stopped, and started again. ‘After the things I said, I could not blame you if you choose to deny me the chance to apologise.’

      ‘I have promised to hear you out, my lord,’ Sarah said coldly. ‘Beyond that, I promise nothing.’

      Guy grimaced. ‘You are not making this easy for me, Miss Sheridan! I wished to apologise to you, both for my actions and my words last night—’

      Sarah got to her feet, her face suffused with colour. Her instinct was to flee the room immediately out of sheer embarrassment. Despite herself, she could not prevent a scorching memory of the events of the previous night from invading her thoughts.

      Anticipating her retreat, Guy moved swiftly to stand between her and the door.

      ‘Please, Miss Sheridan—you promised me a hearing—’

      ‘I have done so, sir,’ Sarah said, as steadily as she could. ‘You wished to apologise and I have heard you.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘And, sir?’

      Guy gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘And do you forgive me? I do not seek to justify myself in any way. What I did was inexcusable.’

      Sarah paused. It did seem churlish to reject his apology when he seemed sincere, particularly as he had made no attempt to excuse his actions. She could feel a tiny corner of her heart unfreezing towards him and ruthlessly sought to conquer her weakness. It would never do to allow the spark of that earlier attraction to be rekindled into life. She had burned herself badly enough on that already.

      ‘Very well, sir. I accept your apology.’

      ‘That was not precisely what I asked.’ Guy was frowning. ‘I wished to know if you forgive me.’

      ‘And the answer is no.’ Sarah met his eyes very straight. ‘I do not forgive you for speaking to me as you did, nor for believing me a…a woman of easy virtue. That I cannot pardon.’

      Guy inclined his head. ‘You are very frank and I accept what you say, Miss Sheridan. But there were mitigating factors—’

      ‘Which you said you would not raise to justify yourself!’

      Guy gave her a wry smile. ‘That’s true, but may we not sit down and talk a little more?’

      Sarah looked at him for a moment, then reluctantly returned to her seat in front of the fire. Despite the uncomfortable situation, she had to admit that the atmosphere of Woodallan was very restful. The drawing-room, decorated in pale blue and gold, and with the small fire adding a heart of warmth, was most peaceful. The charm of Woodallan went beyond mere wealth or good taste—it was so tempting to relax into it, but Sarah knew she could not afford to do so. She did not belong here.

      ‘You seem unaccountably determined to prolong my discomfiture, my lord,’ she observed, knowing that the colour still burned in her cheeks. ‘Generosity might prompt you to let the matter go now.’

      ‘Forgive me, there is a reason that I shall come to shortly.’ Guy sat forward, resting his chin on his hand. ‘I am sorry for listening to groundless gossip and still more sorry for acting on it, as I have said, but I confess I am puzzled as to the truth, Miss Sheridan. What can have prompted you to decide to travel to Blanchland, when you knew that to do so would cause such speculation?’

      Sarah hesitated. She was terribly tempted to tell him the truth, but realised that this was only because she wanted him to think well of her again. Such a motive was hardly a good enough reason to give away the secret. If Guy could not trust her without proof, then she would not oblige him.

      ‘It is a family matter,’ she said evasively. ‘I am fulfilling a request from my late brother.’

      Guy frowned a little. ‘Can you not be more specific, Miss Sheridan? I am trying to understand—’

      Sarah shook her head. ‘I appreciate your concern, my lord, but it is a private matter. I have told no one, not even Amelia.’ She looked up and met his eyes. ‘She does not know the reason for my quest, but she is prepared to trust my judgement and accompany me, even so.’

      ‘Point taken, Miss Sheridan,’ Guy murmured. He got to his feet again and strolled over to the window. ‘But you must also take my point. Whilst your motives for travelling to Blanchland may be of the purest, the interpretation put on them will not be. It is inevitable that the world will make its own judgements. Miss Sheridan, if I could only prevail upon you to reconsider your visit? Could not your man of business undertake the commission to Blanchland? You could then stay here at Woodallan for a while and there would be no grounds for scandal…’

      Sarah was tempted. The Blanchland visit had already caused so much trouble, and she had not even arrived. And to be able to stay at Woodallan would be blissful. She shook her head slowly. ‘Do not press me, sir. There is much appeal in your suggestion, but I cannot. My brother has asked me to undertake this quest personally and I shall do as he wished.’

      Guy looked at her for a moment, but she did not retract her statement. He sighed. ‘Then you must also take the consequences, Miss Sheridan. Greville may not have put it most delicately when he told Lady Amelia she would be ruined, but he is in the right of it. Without the protection of his name, she will be reviled. And the same must apply to you.’

      Sarah