Zehra caught her arm as she tried to leave. “Sabrina, stay. I enjoy talking with you so much. You need not run off. Lawrence and I view you as a guest, not part of Rafe’s staff.”
“You really are too kind to me.” Sabrina could deny Zehra nothing. She’d become so fond of Lawrence and his quiet, intelligent wife. They’d provided a companionship she wished she’d had while she’d been so isolated at her family’s cottage.
Zehra led her over to a settee. “Come, sit beside me.” The other ladies gathered to play cards at a table a little ways behind them.
“Now, tell me, will you be staying?” Zehra asked in a hushed voice.
“Staying?”
“With Lord Rutland.”
“What?” Sabrina swallowed hard.
“You and . . .” Zehra paled. “Oh heavens, Sabrina. I thought you and he had come to an understanding and had become secretly engaged. Please accept my apologies for the assumption.”
“No, it’s fine. I . . .” Sabrina wasn’t sure what to say. But she knew she could not admit to having a relationship of any kind with Peregrine. It would make Peregrine and Rafe look poorly in the eyes of the others.
Zehra reached out and clasped Sabrina’s hand. “Please say you forgive me. I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t thought . . .”
“There’s nothing to be forgiven, honestly.”
Zehra artfully changed the subject. “So you are to go to London with Rafe. Tell me, is he really as good a father as he appears to be?”
“Believe it or not, he is. There is something wonderful about watching him and Isla together, like a strange sort of magic.”
“Two lost souls finding each other—a man born to be a father and a child who deserves him.” Zehra touched her stomach and then leaned in. “I’ve been thinking so much of babies of late, and if what I sense is true, I will gift Lawrence with our first child soon. We have been at the task quite earnestly.” She blushed, and the two women dissolved into giggles.
“That’s wonderful, Zehra. I’m so happy for you both.”
Zehra’s blue eyes gleamed. “I admit, I am rather excited at the prospect. Raising children here in the country would be wonderful.”
“You must write to me in London and tell me of how it all goes,” Sabrina said.
It would be so good to receive letters from someone she had come to see as a friend. Until this week at the Russell house, she had never realized how alone she felt, but she did feel very lonely. For so long she had been trapped in a quiet, desperate life that she’d never been able to escape from until Lady Germain’s ball. Coming to live with Rafe and Isla had alleviated some of that loneliness but not all of it. She would always be a governess, and she wanted to be something infinitely more…just not to Rafe.
“Well, I should retire. I need to be rested for our trip home.” Sabrina didn’t want to leave her new friends here, but she also didn’t want to miss Peregrine if he did come to her room tonight.
The other young ladies gave her warm hugs before she made her way upstairs. She paused halfway up the steps and listened to the men, who were drinking and smoking cigars in the billiard room. She sent a silent thought out, hoping he would somehow hear.
Please come to me, Peregrine. Give me just one more night of joy . . .
“I see the only man who can hold his drink is Rutland,” Rafe said, his glass of brandy sloshing onto the carpet of the billiard room.
“He can hold it . . . because he isn’t drinking it,” Charles grumbled.
Charles and Rafe had escalated their drinking until both men now leaned heavily on their billiard cues in order to stay standing. The absurd matter of honor was yet to be settled between them.
Vaughn, Peregrine, Lawrence, and Linus all watched this battle, their own drinks for the most part abandoned.
“No, it is Darlington a man must watch,” Charles said and tipped his glass toward Vaughn. “He can drink and yet you never see him show a sign of being in his cups. What’s your secret, Darlington?”
“Wizardry,” Vaughn declared without hesitation. It was such a serious tone that both drunken men turned to stare at him.
“Did he say . . . ?” Rafe began.
“He did,” Charles confirmed.
Peregrine rolled his eyes. He was tired, and the thought of continuing to watch this drunken game of billiards left him decidedly uninspired. He also wanted to catch Sabrina tonight. Tomorrow she was leaving, but there were things he still wished to say.
“I am turning in, gentlemen.” Peregrine ignored the good-natured insults regarding his constitution as he left the room.
When he reached his chamber, he found his valet had left a note upon the floor. He bent and picked it up and began to read over the message, but then he realized it was not a message from his valet. It was from Sabrina.
Peregrine,
We have but one more night together. Please come to me after the lamps have been doused in the halls. You gave me such joy this last week, and I long for one last memory of you.
S.
He stared at the note, then hastily collected his dressing gown and a candlestick. He lit the candle and checked the corridor. The lamps had already been doused. She would be waiting for him. He moved silently to the opposite wing of the manor to where the nursery and Sabrina’s rooms were found.
He knocked softly on Sabrina’s door, holding his breath. His heart was racing, and he felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as though he’d done this before. For a moment nothing happened, and he feared she’d already fallen asleep. Then the door opened, and Sabrina’s face appeared in the crack.
“Am I too late?” he whispered.
She shook her head and gently pulled him into the room, gripping his shirt. When she closed the door and locked it, he set the candle on the table by her bed.
“Sabrina, we must talk—”
“No talking, please. I just want to forget about what tomorrow will bring.”
He felt uncertain, but she seemed determined to make him forget about anything but being together tonight. She removed her robe and stood there naked, her long dark hair tumbling down her shoulders in wild waves. He’d never been more tempted in his life except that night at Lady Germain’s. Yet that night and this both were so vastly different. Sabrina was real, tangible, not a dream.
“I believe you must take off your clothes as well,” she said with a nervous smile. He came toward her and placed his palms upon her shoulders.
“We do not need to do this if you don’t wish to.”
She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Peregrine, I feel connected to you, and tomorrow I must go back to my life. I wanted one last memory with you. I know you are a gentleman, but I do not want a gentleman tonight. Please be wicked with me.”
She rubbed her cheek against his chest, and he felt that wild flutter inside him, like a murmuration of starlings taking flight. He could almost feel their invisible wings fluttering against the cage of his ribs.
“Be wicked?” he echoed, and she nodded. “Why me? Of all the fortunate men you could have chosen?” He had to know. He had never been special. He was no more handsome than some other men. Had she felt this way before she knew he was the Earl of Rutland? Or had this been building from the moment they met when he helped her rescue her horse?