Over the years, Sir Edward had done everything in his power to keep
Graham from becoming a doctor, including bribery. Unfortunately, the
city's most noted doctor, Mr. Fielder, had thwarted him by accepting
Graham as an apprentice and willingly let the lad work around the long
hours he'd been forced to spend in Sir Edward's business.
One of these days, he'd see Mr. Fielder pay for his interference.
Sir Edward placed his hand on his beloved son's shoulder. "Make sure you
win the Garrison Commander's daughter."
Blair pulled his sword from its walking stick scabbard, the blade
gleaming sharp in the sunlight. "I will do all in my power, Father. Even
if I must run through the other suitors."
Chapter Two
The door to the schoolroom flew open. "Sarah, you must teach me to
dance," Graham demanded, his handsome face tight with anxiety.
Sarah Ambrose looked up from her lesson on map reading, her glasses
perched on the end of her nose. He never barged in on her lessons. Or
had ever expressed the curious urge to dance.
/"Mister /McNab," she said pointedly, a gentle reminder they had a
wide-eyed audience, Sir Edward's ten-year-old twin daughters, "I am in
the middle of lessons." She tapped the map book with the drawing pencil
she used as a pointer to reclaim the girls' attention but it was already
too late.
Jean and Janet called out his name, happy for the interruption. They
adored their cousin who, unlike their brother, usually had a moment for
a kind word.
But not today.
Graham shocked Sarah by striding across the room, grabbing her firmly by
the elbow and steering her out of her seat and toward the connecting
door that led to her private quarters. He was a big man and when he made
up his mind to move, no one could gainsay him. Certainly not Sarah who
at five foot four only came up to his chest. "Excuse me, Jean, Janet,"
he threw over his shoulder. "Your teacher will return in a moment."
"Mister McNab?Graham! Wait, what do you think you are doing?" She pushed
her glasses up her nose before they fell off.
He closed the connecting door firmly behind them. She shoved the drawing
pencil into the careless topknot of her soft brown hair and reached to
open it. "Have you lost your reason?"
He blocked her attempt with the flat of his palm on the door, his long,
hard body pinning her in place. "No, I'm in love."
Now, he had Sarah's undivided attention.
She leaned her back against the door, uncertain if she'd heard him
correctly. At two and thirty, she was six years older but considered him
a compatriot. They were both neither servants in the true sense of the
words? well, perhaps herself more than him?and yet, outsiders to Sir
Edward's class. Graham's friendship was the bright spot in her otherwise
humdrum life. He was one of the few men she trusted. She thought she
knew everything about him.
Obviously not.
"Love?" she tested the word?and backed away from it, cautious. "Were you
in 'love' this morning when I saw you at breakfast?"
"No. But I am now and, Sarah, you are my only hope." He took both her
hands. "You must teach me to dance."
She couldn't follow his train of thought. "Why?"
"Because I don't know how," he replied earnestly.
"Yes," she agreed. "That's usually the way it is with people who need
dancing lessons." She shook her head. None of what he said made sense,
nor did she want to consider the implications to herself. If he was in
love . . .
She reached for the door handle behind her. "We'll discuss this later. I
must return to the twins." And maybe, in the meantime, she prayed he
would come to his senses.
Graham covered her hand on the door handle with his and opened the door,
squashing Sarah between his body and the door frame in a way that
brought a hot rush of color to her face, and said, "Jean, Janet, place
your slates on Miss Ambrose's desk and run see Nurse. I think she has
treacle tea for you."
He didn't have to make the suggestion twice. The girls jumped to obey,
their slates clattering as they were thrown on the desk.
Sarah made an exasperated sound and slipped through the door to chase
them back but it was too late. Janet was the latter one through the
schoolroom door, slamming it shut behind her.
She whirled on Graham. "Why did you do that? They are never good
students in the best circumstances and, now, I won't get anything out of
them for the rest of the day."
"Good," he replied happily. "You have time to start teaching me how to
dance."
She stared into the light green eyes that she'd thought she'd known as
well as her own gray ones and realized he'd become a stranger. The
thought was unsettling, as was her almost stomach-churning reaction to
his claiming to be ... in ... /love./
"This is sudden. Too sudden," she avowed. He'd always been too involved
in work and his studies to care about frivolities. "I mean, last night
you were anticipating this day because Mister Fielder was to release you
from your apprenticeship."
"Oh, yes, he did," Graham answered offhandedly and Sarah was more
bewildered. Becoming a doctor had been Graham's sole goal in life.
She sat in her "teacher" chair behind her desk. "Perhaps you should
start from the beginning."
"I'd rather start with the dancing lessons." He leaned on her desk.
"Please, Sarah, help me."
She crossed her arms. "Talk first, lessons second."
The set of his mouth flattened stubbornly. Sarah thought Graham had the
most amazing mouth. It conveyed all his emotions. Now it told her he
didn't want to be questioned. Too bad. "Talk, Graham."
He frowned but then the corners of his mouth twisted into rueful
resignation. With a sigh, he hitched one leg up on the edge of her desk
and launched into the most astounding story she'd ever heard about
seeing a Miss Whitlow, the Garrison Commander's daughter, who apparently
had all the virtues of womanhood without opening her mouth and how her
father was hosting a ball to find her a husband.
She listened, her eyebrows climbing higher and higher. "So you wish to
learn to dance to impress this young woman whose father is blatantly
auctioning her off?"
He frowned, then corrected, "He's holding a search."
"And you want to dance in such a way as to convince him and her you
would be a good lover."
Her blunt words startled him. She made an impatient sound. "Graham, I
have been about in the world. I know the implications of the Scottish
proverb on the invitation."
"Yes . . . and no," he admitted. "I mean, there should be some decency
involved."
"Exactly," she murmured, withholding further opinion.
"There's more," he said, and told her about the wager, his focus
dropping to the slates on her desk as he spoke, his expression taking on
a new intensity.
"You didn't accept the challenge, did you?" she asked, fearing the answer.
Graham's gaze met hers. "I did."
Sarah
released a soft groan, but she was not surprised. Everyone knew
Blair was jealous of his tall, intelligent cousin. She'd witnessed the
petty insults and small cruelties he'd inflicted on Graham over the
years. She'd considered it a sign of Graham's strength that he had not
struck back. However, a day of reckoning was bound to have come.
What disturbed her were the whispers she'd overheard among the household
staff about how Sir Edward did not want Graham to leave the shipping
firm. Blair's timing was too fortuitous.
She looked up at him. "They mean for you to lose."
Graham straightened. "I won't." He paused and added, /"If /you teach me
to dance."
"Me? If I?" she repeated blindly. She rose from her chair and started
stacking and restacking the girls' slates with more force than
necessary, her mind jumbled with objections and fears and?
"It's an insane wager." She shoved the slates away and faced him.
"Graham, go tell your uncle you've changed your mind. Back out while you
have time. They don't mean for you to win," she said, rapping her
knuckles on the desk to emphasize each word. "They will take every
advantage of you without any regret."
He stepped back, his features hardened with the resolute sense of
purpose that was so much a part of him. "I will win, Sarah. Miss Whitlow
is in love with me."
"Love?" The word sounded alien to her ears. "Because she looked at you?
Did either of your speak? Did you introduce yourselves?" The challenges
flew out of her mouth before she'd had a chance to consider their wisdom.
"Sometimes words are not necessary."
"Not even a simple 'hello, how are you'?"
" 'Twas love at first sight," he replied stonily.
" 'Twas /lust /at first sight!" Sarah snapped back. She wanted to shake
him she was so angry. Unreasonably angry.
He took another step toward the door, his sparkling eyes growing colder,
more distant. "I thought you would understand."
Oh, she understood. There had been a time when she, too, had been
willing to forsake all for love. When she'd believed in shining stars,
happily ever afters, and, oh, yes, love at first sight. Her "love" had
left her at the altar, his promises empty, meaningless.
Nothing seared the soul like love. It had almost destroyed her.
She'd needed a full year, crammed with the most painful moments of her
life to recover. Even now, the feelings of shame and humiliation from
his rejection hovered near her. Graham was the first man she'd opened
herself to in years. Perhaps, because he was several years younger, she
had not feared for her heart with him.
However, because of their close friendship, she had to make him see
reason. She chose her words carefully. "This wager ... it could destroy
your life." She paused, needing to make him understand and, yet,
unwilling to confess her own miserable experience. "As a governess, I
have lived in different households. My experiences have allowed me to
observe human nature." She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles
turning white. "Once the first bloom of love fades?and it fades quickly,
Graham, mark my words?what is left in its place is not to be desired."
The tension eased in him slightly. "There is a connection between Miss
Whitlow and myself. Something special."
"Graham, what if you win and are forced to marry this young woman?"
"I /want /to many her."
Sarah released her hold on the desk, pushing it back to accent her
words. "Or do you just not want Blair to have her?"
Graham jerked his head to one side as if she had struck him. Sarah
closed her eyes. 'Twas not like her to lash out.
"You don't have to help me, Sarah."
His words pierced her heart. She opened her eyes. He was moving toward
the door. He reached for the door handle. "And yes, I'm bloody tired of
playing the lackey. If dancing to claim a woman's hand is how I can make
my uncle and cousin respect me, then I will." He opened the door.
"Graham?"
He stopped, waiting.
Sarah balled her hands into fists. She didn't know what to say. But
before her mind could form words to heal the rift between them, Betty,
the cheeky upstairs maid hailed Graham.
"Mister McNab, I've been looking for you. What is this I hear about a
wager and a dance?" Betty appeared in the doorway, a big, happy smile
stretched across her face, her hips twitching saucily. Her cinch belt
was laced so tight her breasts appeared to be popping forward like two
beehives on a table.
over.
"They say the Garrison Commander's daughter practically fell off her
horse when she first laid eyes on you," Betty crooned. " 'Course, I
don't blame her. You would turn my head any day." Her breasts quivered
with her words.
Sarah spoke up to let the forward puss know Graham was not alone. "Don't
you have cleaning to do, Betty?"
The maid didn't even bother a glance in Sarah's direction. "I've got all
my chores done and a wee bit of time on my hands. They say you might be
needing a dancing lesson or two, Mister McNab. I'm a good dancer." She
bumped Graham with her beehive breasts.
Inexplicably, jealousy stabbed through Sarah with blinding force.
"Mister McNab doesn't need your help."
Betty slipped from Sarah's grasp and moved into the schoolroom. "Then
who will teach him to dance?"
"I will," Sarah replied.
"You?" Betty asked doubtfully.
"You?" Graham said happily.
"Yes, me," Sarah answered.
"But I thought?" Graham started.
She cut him off, not wanting to examine her motives too closely. " 'Tis
the least I can do for a friend, Graham."
He gave a sudden, happy whoop, scooped her up in his arms, and twirled
her around. "I knew I could count on you, Sarah. I knew it."
"Yes," she agreed numbly, her cheek against his hard chest. His
movements made her a little dizzy and she was startled by tears stinging
her eyes. What had she gotten herself into?
He set Sarah on her feet. "Can we start now?" he asked, his eyes alive
with anticipation.
"No," Sarah said quickly. "The twins will be back . . . we should meet
later. Say, nine o'clock in the downstairs ballroom. Sir Edward is going
out this evening."
"That will be perfect," Graham said.
"I beg your pardon," Betty demanded rudely, obviously irritated at being
ignored. "But do you know how to dance, Miss Ambrose?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then why haven't I seen you dance?" Betty asked.
Sarah matched her cat smile with a bright one of her own. "We don't
travel in the same circles or frequent the same places, Betty."
The maid's eyes narrowed at the implied insult. "So where do you dance?"
"Here." Sarah walked over to her desk, her symbol of authority. "In the
schoolroom. Teaching dance is one of my responsibilities."
"And she's a good dancer," Graham said loyally although Sarah doubted
he'd ever seen her dance.
/"I'm /a good dancer," Bet
ty corrected. "And he is a man not a child,
Miss Ambrose. He needs a /woman /to teach him to dance."
"I am a woman, Betty," Sarah said, a hint of warning in her voice.
"No, you are a /teacher." /Betty shuddered and then started for the
door, her hips swaying with the wanton sensuality. "You stay up here in
your little tower and look down on the rest of us."
"You'd best remember your place, Betty," Sarah said evenly.
Betty turned. "I want him to win, Miss Ambrose. Can you say the same?"
The maid's challenge caught Sarah off guard. For a second, class
distinction evaporated between them and Sarah sensed Betty knew and saw
more than Sarah would want her to. More than Sarah would admit to.
Graham came to her rescue.
"Betty, Sarah is graceful and elegant, intelligent and kind. In short,
everything a woman should be. Perhaps you'd best go back to your work."
The expression on Betty's face made it clear she didn't agree with him
and had a thing or two she wanted to add, but then thought differently.