Page 41 of Drowned in the Pleasure of a Devilish Baron
I am not a liar.
“Yes, Mother.” Sarah lifted her chin. “I did not lie, not exactly. I promised you I would not write to him and I have not. I could not have known that he would be visiting his sister at the same times.”
Her mother’s brow lifted. “A lie of omission is just as much of a lie.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps it becomes a necessity when one is being held to unjust conditions.” Sarah sat ramrod straight, expecting this to send her mother into a rage, but she surprised her.
Lady Marlow sighed heavily. “Oh, Sarah. What are we to do with you?” She patted one heavily ringed hand on the settee. “Come sit beside me, dear.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Sarah stood and took the seat next to her mother.
“I’m not going to bite you.” Lady Marlow took Sarah’s hand between hers. “My darling, I know that I do not always show it, but I am rather proud of your spirit.”
Sarah’s mouth nearly dropped one. This was not the way she had expected this conversation to go. Not at all. “My… spirit?”
“Yes. Though I have toiled your whole life to turn you into a charming and pleasant lady, you have instead grown into a rather quick-witted, independent one.” She smiled at her, giving her hand a squeeze.
Sarah felt a little fissure in her heart appear, a softening toward her mother that she had not felt since she was a little girl and had learned to avoid her sharp gaze as often as possible. This had translated into a distant relationship, lacking the motherly warmth that colored Juliet’s memory of her mother. She leaned in a little closer, like a flower turning to the sun.
“I had no idea you were proud of me at all.”
“Of course I am,” she said, bringing a cold hand to Sarah’s cheek. “You are my beautiful girl.”
Sarah softened against her mother’s touch.
She continued, her tone staying loving and warm, “And it is precisely because you are my beautiful girl that you will no longer be calling on Lady Juliet.”
Sarah’s eyes widened and she sat up straight. “What do you mean? For how long?”
“Until you are safely married,” she said with finality. “And even then, it will, of course, be at the discretion of your husband.”
Sarah stood from the settee. “What? But I won’t be married for ages! I do not even have an official courtship!”
Her mother only smiled. “We shall see about that, my dear.”
Her cryptic tone did nothing to assuage Sarah’s fears. “What does that mean?”
“I will leave you to prepare for bed now. Tomorrow, I would like for you to do your embroidery in the drawing room with me. I shall expect you after our afternoon tea.” She rose smoothly, not a crease to be seen nor hair out of place. At the door, she paused. “And Sarah, be aware that I have warned the staff to keep a watchful eye on you.”
“Mother, what did you mean?” Sarah demanded, following her to the door.
“Good night, love. Rebecca will be in soon to help you undress for bed.” Without looking at her, Lady Marlow glided through the door, closing it decisively behind her. Through the wood, Sarah heard the click of the door’s outer lock slide into place.
“Mother!”
But there was no answer.
Chapter Twenty
“Shall we have another?” a dark—haired gentleman with a scar the length of his pinky inquired of his partner. The two were seated in the lush surroundings of a popular gentleman’s club. It was their opinion that the best atmosphere in which to conduct secret business is out in the open, in the loud, crowded places where it was difficult to be overheard, and created an illusion of total normalcy.
“If I ever say no to that, you will know something is very wrong,” responded the other, crossing his legs in a smooth, practiced gesture.
“Very well, then,” he raised a finger, and at once their glasses with both refilled with a richly dark whiskey.
“Back to the issue at hand.” The second man leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. “There has been a development that could make this more difficult.”
The other arched a brow. “How so?”
