Regency Christmas Vows. Anne Herries

said caressingly, ‘that I still have to persuade you to accept my hand in marriage. I shall be doing my utmost to convince you!’

      Sarah wrenched her hands away, knowing she was trembling violently. It was intolerable that he should have such an effect on her!

      ‘Pray do not persist in this ridiculous jest, my lord! We both know you cannot mean it!’

      ‘Never more serious, I assure you, Miss Sheridan! As I said yesterday, you will have time to become accustomed to the idea.’ Guy was laughing at her. ‘What you will not have is the chance to refuse me!’

      Sarah drew breath for a scathing retort but broke off as the door swung open to reveal the butler, his expression as wooden as the door panels. ‘Luncheon is served, my lord. Miss Sheridan,’ he bowed politely, bending to retrieve the muff, ‘allow me, madam—’

      But he was talking to thin air. With a fulminating glance, Sarah had stalked off, leaving Guy still grinning as he watched her indignant figure walk out of sight.

      After lunch the sleet turned to light snow that lay like icing across the parkland.

      ‘Oh, how pretty!’ Amelia exclaimed, as she stood by Sarah in the library and looked out across the hills. ‘If it continues like this, I fear we may have to stay some time!’

      Sarah looked exasperated. ‘It is only five miles to Blanchland, Milly! If the worst comes to the worst, I shall walk there tomorrow!’

      Amelia’s face fell. ‘Would you not prefer to stay at Woodallan, Sarah? It is so pleasant—’

      ‘Of course I would rather stay here!’ Sarah said crossly. ‘How could I possibly favour Blanchland over this? The fact is that I have lost a week already since the letter arrived and—’

      She broke off, remembering that Amelia was not party to the letter’s contents. Amelia gave her a curious look.

      ‘Is time a material factor then? I had not realised.’

      ‘No, I am sorry.’ Sarah looked shamefaced. ‘I did not say…’

      Amelia pressed her hand. ‘Time enough for you to tell me all about it when you are ready.’ She gave Sarah a penetrating look. ‘I understand, however, that Lord Renshaw accompanies us?’

      Sarah felt the telltale blush creep into her cheeks. ‘So I am told. It was not at my instigation!’

      Amelia raised her eyebrows. ‘On his own inclination, then—’

      ‘No!’ Sarah realised she sounded too vehement and tried to calm down. ‘That is, he tells me that Frank wrote to Lord Woodallan, asking him to help me in my quest. Unfortunately, the Earl is too ill to accompany us, so…’ She shrugged.

      ‘So Lord Renshaw comes instead!’ Amelia frowned. ‘Are you sure about this, Sarah? It sounds all a hum to me!’

      Now it was Sarah’s turn to frown. ‘Whatever can you mean? Of course I am sure!’

      ‘Only that it seems a little odd. I am not sure why, but…’

      ‘Yet it must be so. Guy—Lord Renshaw,’ Sarah corrected herself meticulously, ‘knew of the purpose of my visit, and that can only have come from Frank’s letter.’

      Amelia shrugged lightly. ‘As you say, my love. I must surely be making a mystery out of nothing!’ She moved across to the writing box. ‘Now, since it is not really the weather to go out, I shall write some letters.’

      ‘I’ll sit with you and read a book,’ Sarah said, selecting one from the shelves. She settled in an armchair beside the roaring fire, and for a time there was no sound but for the pages turning softly and the scratch of Amelia’s nib on the paper. Sarah, however, was hardly concentrating. Amelia’s words had raised some doubts in her mind, yet she was unsure what it was that disturbed her. Never mind—tomorrow she would reach Blanchland at last and unravel the mystery of Olivia Meredith.

      Dinner was another very pleasant meal and was followed by charades and card-playing before bedtime. Lady Woodallan was chatting to Amelia as they ascended the stairs and it was completely by chance that Sarah, trailing a little behind, heard the conversation between father and son in the hall below.

      ‘You have told her that you will go, then,’ Lord Woodallan was saying as he lit the remaining candles to see them up to bed.

      ‘I have, sir.’ Guy sounded a little grim.

      ‘But not the rest? Not about—?’

      ‘No. It is as you wished.’

      ‘Good.’ Woodallan sounded relieved. ‘Then you will see to it, Guy. Find Miss Meredith—and make sure that Miss Sheridan does not—’

      Guy glanced up at that moment and Sarah shrank back into the darkness at the top of the stairs. Her mind was racing as she puzzled over what she had heard. So what Guy had told her was true, but only up to a point—his father did want him to accompany her to Blanchland, but not simply to give her his aid! Apparently he had his own reasons for wishing to find Olivia, and she was not to be made aware of them…

      ‘Sarah!’ Amelia called, a little impatiently. ‘Where are you? I am waiting to say goodnight!’

      She yawned widely as Sarah hurried up the remaining few steps, then gave her cousin an affectionate peck on the cheek. ‘Sleep well, my love!’

      But Sarah tossed and turned for over an hour as she tried to work out what connection the Woodallan family might have with Olivia Meredith and, more importantly, why she should not be privy to it. Her musings shed no light, however, and in the end she fell asleep, to dream that she was chasing a fair-haired girl across the park at Blanchland, but, just before she reached her, the girl disappeared.