Regency Christmas Vows. Anne Herries

still watching her, his searching gaze intent on her face. It made her feel oddly breathless.

      ‘I beg your pardon. I was thinking of home…’ She tried to gather her thoughts and steer away from further confidences. ‘Yes, I thank you…It was a difficult time.’

      ‘And now you reside with Lady Amelia?’ Guy smiled, looking across at where Amelia and Greville were engrossed in conversation, her chestnut curls brushing his shoulder as she bent forward confidingly. ‘I imagine that must be quite amusing!’

      Sarah laughed. ‘Oh, I have been most fortunate! Amelia’s society is always stimulating and she has been as generous as a sister to me!’

      Guy lowered his voice. ‘Do you think she will ever put Grev out of his misery and accept his suit, Miss Sheridan?’

      It was a surprisingly personal question. Sarah raised her eyebrows a little haughtily and saw him grin in response.

      ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Sheridan, if you think me impertinent. I am only concerned for my friend’s future happiness, for I know he holds Lady Amelia in high esteem. But perhaps you think me presumptuous—again?’

      Sarah unbent a little. ‘There is nothing I would like more than to see them make a match of it, my lord. I have been promoting the alliance these two years past! Alas, Amelia is not susceptible to my arguments!’

      ‘Nor to Greville’s, it would seem,’ Guy said, shifting a little in his chair. ‘And you, Miss Sheridan? No doubt you have many suitors! I should be glad to have happy news of your own situation to take back to Woodallan with me!’

      If the previous question had been bold, this one took Sarah’s breath away. Once again there was a teasing light in his eyes, daring her to give him the snub he deserved.

      ‘I shall be happy for you to tell your family that I am in good health and spirits,’ she said, with a very straight face, ‘and to give them all my very best wishes!’

      Guy did not seem discomposed. His smile broadened with appreciation. ‘I shall take that as encouragement for my own hopes then, ma’am!’

      ‘You should not do so, my lord,’ Sarah said crushingly. ‘I had not the least intention of encouraging you!’

      ‘I was thinking that the gentlemen of Bath must all be slow-tops,’ Guy said, apparently undaunted by her coldness, ‘but now I perceive that you are very high in the instep, Miss Sheridan! Your good opinion is not easily gained!’

      ‘Certainly not by an acknowledged rake who carelessly destroys my roses!’ Sarah said coolly. ‘Pray do not repine, however, my lord! There are any number of young ladies in Bath who would be delighted to flirt with you!’

      ‘Minx!’ his lordship said, with feeling. ‘I have to tell you that I have no interest in them, Miss Sheridan!’

      ‘Indeed?’ Sarah hesitated over administering yet another set-down to him in a single day. She had the feeling that it would be inviting trouble.

      ‘Naturally I do not include you in their company, ma’am! Will you dance with me at your cousin’s ball tomorrow night?’

      Sarah raised her eyebrows again. There was no doubt that Viscount Renshaw possessed a most persistent and provocative disposition, and that he was deliberately trying to incite a reaction.

      ‘It is not certain that I shall attend, sir,’ she said, still cool. ‘I have other plans—’

      His eyes danced with a secret amusement. ‘Oh, surely you would not disappoint your cousin, ma’am? Shall I appeal to her to persuade you?’ He glanced across at Amelia and Greville, still deep in conversation.

      ‘Pray do not disturb them,’ Sarah said hastily, aware that her colour had risen again. It was an understood thing that she would be present at Amelia’s ball, for it would be the highlight of Bath’s winter season. She suspected that Guy had guessed as much. His amused gaze rested on her face, moving over each feature with slow deliberation. Sarah felt inordinately uncomfortable under that observant scrutiny.

      The clock chimed.

      ‘Oh!’ Amelia got hastily to her feet. ‘I do beg your pardon, gentlemen! I am promised to Mrs Chartley’s card party! Pray excuse me or I shall be very late!’

      Greville and Guy stood up, Greville offering his escort to Amelia, who accepted prettily.

      Guy took Sarah’s hand and pressed a kiss on it. ‘I am sure we shall see you this evening, Miss Sheridan. Do you go to the dance at the Pump Room?’

      ‘Oh, yes, we shall be there!’ Amelia said cheerfully, seeming blissfully unaware that her cousin was about to deny it. She gave Guy Renshaw a melting smile. ‘It is the last public dance of the year, you know! But how charming to be able to see you again so soon, Lord Renshaw!’

      Guy bowed. ‘The pleasure will be all mine, Lady Amelia! Your servant, Miss Sheridan!’

      They all went out together. Sarah watched from the window as the Viscount parted from Greville and Amelia with a casual word and a smile. She was aware of a certain conflict inside her and a faint disappointment. Guy Renshaw was a charming man and he had made his admiration for her very plain, but he was also a dangerous flirt who probably did not mean a word of it. It would be very foolish to read anything into his behaviour and even more imprudent to allow an unexpected physical attraction to disturb her.

      Besides, he would be leaving Bath in a couple of days and so would she. Abruptly, Sarah remembered her commitment to visit Blanchland, and felt depression settle on her. She did not want to see what Ralph Covell had done to her beloved family home, nor to become embroiled in the problems of Frank’s natural daughter, nor to ruin her own reputation in the process. Amelia was quite right—she must be mad. And Churchward had even offered her a way out by suggesting that an agent could represent her interests, yet for some reason she had chosen not to take it…

      Sarah felt the beginnings of a headache stir. Since she had resolved on this rash course of action, she must at least plan how to accomplish it with a minimum of fuss. Blanchland was less than a day’s journey from Bath, and if she were fortunate she would be able to find Miss Meredith quickly, discover the girl’s difficulties and instruct Churchward on the best way to resolve them. The whole matter could be decided in a week—ten days at the outside. And no one need ever know.

      The presence of Viscount Renshaw and Sir Greville Baynham caused quite a stir at the Pump Room that night. Sir Greville, whose family home was a few miles north of the city, had always been a universal favourite, with several young ladies expressing themselves willing to console him if Lady Amelia refused his suit. The Viscount caused an even greater commotion, being fortunate enough to be rich, handsome and heir to an Earl into the bargain.

      It was a clear, starry night, and Sarah and Amelia had walked the short distance from Brock Street to the Pump Room, enjoying the fresh chill of the night air that brought the colour to their cheeks and made their eyes sparkle. As they handed over their cloaks and Amelia cast a thoughtful look over her cousin, Sarah saw her smile of approval.

      ‘How pretty you look, Sarah! I would not have dreamed of saying anything before, but I am so glad you have cast off that hideous half-mourning!’

      She saw Sarah’s expression and added hastily, ‘I know you were a most devoted sister to Frank, my love, but surely you are too young to wear black forever?’

      Sarah could feel her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile. Milly could be amazingly tactless at times.

      ‘I know the black was ageing,’ she agreed mildly, ‘but surely the lavender became me a little?’

      Amelia looked contrite. ‘Oh, sweetly pretty, my love, but for a whole year? And even then you habitually chose drab colours that are nothing to this delicious rose tint you are wearing now!’ She cast her cousin a sideways look. ‘I did wonder whether the advent of Viscount Renshaw was the reason for your sudden—’

      ‘Oh, look,