Part 2 (1/2)
Sarah swallowed her renewed apology and watched with interest as the viscount began to pace restlessly from end to end of the small room.
”You see, there were three, ahem, ladies already in the house.”
”Ahem, ladies?” wondered Sarah, eyebrows raised.
Adam hurried on. ”They had all come to me for help, but they were unaware of each other's presence. When Nan arrived they all met in the hall and there was something of an explosion. That's beside the point, though. I'd like you to suggest how I can help them with the problems they had come to see me about.”
Intrigued, she nodded. ”Tell me. Only do for heaven s sake sit down, Adam. I shall go mad if you step on that squeaky board one more time.”
He dropped into a chair and ran his fingers through his hair. The vagrant lock flopped back over his brow.
”Well there's Ja-Mrs. Goudge. Her husband is a cit, an India nabob, rich enough to buy an abbey. He's been in the East for the past couple of years and she expected him back any day. Then she heard that his s.h.i.+p was sunk.”
”Poor woman! She must be altogether overset. But I do not quite see why she came to you. Perhaps you have business dealings with Mr. Goudge?”
Though Adam was sitting with his back to the window, Sarah saw a slight flush redden his cheeks. She was amused by his embarra.s.sment at being suspected of engaging in trade with a cit. She came to his rescue.
”I daresay she ought to see his lawyer first. Is it certain that the s.h.i.+p was sunk? And that he was on it? Perhaps you ought to enquire further.”
”That is an excellent idea!” He seized on her words. ”It may be all a hum. Your advice is always good, Sarah.”
”But you will need to return to London to a.s.sist Mrs. Goudge,” she pointed out. ”What of the others?”
”Others? Oh, yes, well ... There's Marguerite. She is a singer. The theatre manager promised her the part of the heroine in a new opera, and then gave it to someone else.”
”An opera singer? Why should she suppose that you could do anything for her?” Sarah bit her lip as unwelcome suspicions flitted through her mind. ”And why should you suppose that I know anything of actresses and theatres?”
Adam seemed to be struggling to find an acceptable explanation. He gave up.
”You are quite right, m'dear, it was chuckleheaded of me to expect it. I have come to rely too much upon you and Jonathan.”
Sarah, sitting bolt upright with her chin raised, fixed him with a steely eye.
”And what of the third, ahem, lady?” she enquired in a determined voice.
”I scarcely think...”
”Tell me, Adam!”
The look he gave her was cool, a.s.sessing. She reminded herself that she had no right to judge him, that as well as a friend he was a wealthy young n.o.bleman. And wealthy young n.o.blemen kept mistresses. She had thought him different; she was wrong.
”Perhaps I can help her,” she said quietly.
”It's a common story. Peggy is a country girl who went to London to make her fortune. As happens more often than not, she fell into bad company, and no, Sarah, I do not refer to myself. The carriers' carts are met by charming elderly ladies who offer their a.s.sistance to the bewildered innocents while they are seeking a position. The only position they find is in a locked room in a brothel, until they resign themselves to the life. Peggy did not resign herself. She ran away. I came across her crouched in a back alley near Seven Dials with the abbess standing over her wielding a horsewhip.”
Sarah winced at the image he evoked, but said nothing. His hard voice softened.
”Yes, I took her under my protection. Yes, she has been my ... what euphemism do you prefer? ... my chere amie, shall we say. What other future was there for her? She is a grateful girl, and considers me something of a hero,” he added wryly. ”But now her country sweetheart has discovered her whereabouts and he is after my blood!”
”And you, of course, are terrified!” Sarah attempted a rallying tone. ”After the tales Jonathan has told me about your prowess at Manton's Shooting Gallery and Gentleman Jackson's Boxing Saloon! I daresay you can defend yourself, Adam, while I think what is best to be done with your Peggy.”
He rose to his feet and took both her hands in his.
”Thank you. I was right to count on you. And now I must be off to Cheve House to see what Jane and my mother have cooked up between them to keep me busy. May I call tomorrow?”
”I shall try to have a suggestion for you by then.”
She disengaged her hands and stood up, avoiding his eyes. In the narrow front hall they found Jonathan chatting with Miss Barnes, an elderly paris.h.i.+oner. The viscount paused to greet the sharp-faced old maid, bowing over her hand, and as Sarah escaped up the stair she heard her fluttering response to his easy charm.
She was furious, whether more with herself or with Adam she did not know. What a peagoose she had been to suppose that he was untouched by the common dissipations of his s.e.x and cla.s.s. She had seen only his friendliness, his kindness to those in need, his lack of arrogance. Not for a moment had she guessed at the rakish disposition hidden beneath, and surely a man who kept three mistresses at once might be called a rake.
She went into her chamber, a small, sunny room that faced the ancient stone church. Kicking off her shoes, she curled up in a shabby but comfortable chair by the window. Adam was a whited sepulcher, she mused, gazing out at the tombstones in the churchyard, fair without and tainted within. Her ready sense of humour came to the fore and she giggled at the thought. Besides, it was not quite just. His good works were not to be despised only because he was not a pattern-card of perfection. Nor must she allow her disillusionment to interfere with accepting his aid for her school.
A delicious aroma of frying onions wafted up from the kitchen below, and Sarah decided to go and see whether Mrs. Hicks needed any help with dinner. Though Nellie was good at dusting and polis.h.i.+ng, somehow whenever she entered the kitchen something broke or burned.
Her mind on domestic matters, Sarah started when Jonathan called to her as she pa.s.sed the study door.
”Have you a moment to spare, my dear?” he asked with his habitual courtesy.
”I daresay Mrs. Hicks will manage without me. What is it?”
The vicar tugged at his clerical collar as if it were suddenly too tight.
”I ... ah,” he began hesitantly, ”I wondered whether you had any suggestions for Adam. I was not able to talk to him because of Miss Barnes.”
Hands on hips, his sister looked at him with dawning comprehension.
”I believe you did it on purpose,” she accused.
”I? On purpose? What?” he enquired in apparent bewilderment, but his cheeks were pink and he did not meet her eyes.
”Jonathan, you did! Adam would never have told me that farrago had you not urged him to it. But why?”
”Do stop towering over me like an avenging fury, he begged. ”Sit down. Yes, I did persuade Adam to tell you about his lady friends.”
”Have I misunderstood?” She sank into a chair. ”Are they not his bits of muslin?”
”Wherever did you learn such a vulgar phrase, Sarah!” The vicar took the offensive.
She blushed, but persisted. ”Are they?”
”I'm afraid you are right; they are.”
”I believe you have known forever that he had mistresses in keeping! You were not surprised in the least. And now I recall that you hinted he had need of sermons on subjects other than charity. Only I still do not see why you had him tell me.”
”I daresay I have been blind,” he said ruefully. ”For some reason everything came together in my mind today. Just yesterday, talking of Nan Wootton and your school and Adam's charities, I was struck by your excessively high opinion of him. You thought him a paragon, and no man can aspire to perfection. I knew you were bound to be disillusioned sooner or later. And then, today, when he drove you home-my dear, your happy face and the way you looked at him ... I was afraid you had fallen in love with him. He is the best of friends to us both, but he is also a member of the aristocracy, with his position to consider. Nor do I think he has the least interest in marriage, even to one of his own cla.s.s.”