Page 91 of The Pirate Lord
“Hargraves—” he began in a warning tone.
Hargraves stared at him through round eyes. “I wanted to make you aware of exactly what was given to her, because she didn’t touch any of it. And as you know, Miss Sara never does without luncheon, especially when it’s chicken pie.”
Jordan scowled as he began to pace again. “You can save the commentaries. I know she hasn’t been eating well since our return.” She hadn’t eaten much aboard the ship either. And this morning, he’d watched her butter a slice of toast with listless movements, then set it aside and never touch it again.
Nor was that the worst of it. She slept only a few hours every night, and spent the rest wandering the halls like a ghost. She avoided contact with him, and when forced into it, she answered his questions in monosyllables.
Except when they concerned that devil of a pirate, that is. Then she told Jordan more than he wanted to hear, all about the man’s dreams for utopia and his kindness to children and a whole host of other “wonderful” qualities, until he was sick of hearing the name Gideon Horn.
But all that was over now. She’d agreed to go with him to this ball. Surely that was a sign she was getting over her infatuation for Captain Horn. And it couldn’t happen too soon, in his opinion.
“After luncheon, Miss Sara went out,” Hargraves continued.
Jordan whirled on him. “Went out? I told you she wasn’t to go anywhere without me!” Ever since their return, he’d lived in constant fear that she’d charter a ship to return to that deuced island.
Hargraves colored. “She . . . er . . . sneaked out without anyone seeing her.” When Jordan began to glower, the servant added hastily, “But she came back only two hours later. She said she’d been to visit one of her friends in the Ladies Committee. She looked well, and she asked for you immediately.”
That must have been when she’d entered the library to tell him she’d be attending the ball. What had happened in those two hours to change her mind?
It didn’t matter. She was coming around, and that was all he cared about.
A door opened upstairs, signaling that she was finally ready, and he gestured to Hargraves to be quiet. “You can tell me the rest in the morning.” He turned toward the stairs. “Go fetch Sara’s?—”
He broke off as he caught sight of his sister at the top of the stairs. His mouth gaped open. Oh, my God. What insanity had brought this on? She was wearing an appalling gown. Cut low enough to reveal most of her breasts, it skimmed her figure, molding every curve. What’s more, it was made of gold gauze and thin as paper, the kind of gown only French women—or one of his mistresses—dared to wear. He could almost see her navel beneath it, for God’s sake.
Had she gone mad? Sara had never worn a gown like that in her life. Even a married Englishwoman would refuse to go out in public so scandalously dressed, and certainly no respectable unmarried woman dared it.
“Where in the devil did you get that gown?” he growled as he approached the stairs. “Go back upstairs and change it this instant! You’re not going to Merrington’s in that!”
She flashed him a cool glance. “Whyever not? The whole purpose of your taking me to the ball is to find me a substitute for Gideon, isn’t it? I’m merely cooperating with your scheme. In this gown, I should be able to entice some poor man to take me, don’t you think?” She glided down another step or two. “But after I catch him, you’ll have to find a way to deceive him about my ruination. Then again, he might not care. I do have a fortune, after all. That should buy me a presentable husband if the dress doesn’t do the trick.”
“Fortune hunters? Lechers?” he shouted as he stalked up the stairs. “Is that who you want for a husband?”
She shrugged, pulling at her neckline to make it even lower, if that were possible. “What does it matter? One man’s as good as another, don’t you agree? You must, or you wouldn’t have taken me from the one I loved in hopes I’d find someone better.”
He halted on the stairs, eyes narrowing. “What is this, Sara, some trick to make me feel guilty for what I did?”
“Trick?” she said innocently. “Not at all. I’m merely trying to help you. Since you intend to decide who I should marry, I’m doing my part to catch the man. What do you think?” She smoothed the impossibly thin material against her skin. “Will Lord Manfred like this dress? He’s looking for a wife, I hear.”
Jordan gritted his teeth. Lord Manfred was sixty years old and both a lecher and a fortune-hunter. The bastard had been sniffing after Sara for years. Sara loathed him almost as much as Jordan did. “You’ve made your point,” he ground out. “Now go up and change into a decent gown.”
“Oh, but I have nothing better for snagging?—”
“This instant! Or I swear I’ll change it for you!”
“Well,” she said offhandedly, “if you insist. But don’t blame me if I can’t catch a suitable husband right off.” Then with a sniff she turned and walked back up the stairs.
“And don’t think this excuses you from going to the ball with me,” Jordan called after her. “I expect you down here in no more than half an hour!”
“Yes, Jordan,” she said in entirely too smug a voice.
As soon as Sara reached her room, she smiled to herself.Take that, brother,she thought as she hurried to where Peggy held the gown she’d actually intended to wear. The servant made no comment as she helped Sara out of the scandalous French gown Sara had borrowed from her friend in the Ladies Committee. Good heavens, Sara had never felt so naked in all her life, and before Jordan, no less. But maybe now he understood how she felt about his insufferably arrogant behavior.
God knows he hadn’t understood before. She’d talked herself blue on theDefiant.Nothing she’d said had changed his mind. For a man reputed to be the most notorious rake in England, he was behaving like a prude. It was enough to drive her insane, knowing that for every minute he kept her away from Atlantis, Gideon put another brick in his fortress of distrust against her, believing she’d abandoned him as cruelly as his mother. She couldn’t bear the thought.
She frowned as Peggy helped her into her other, more respectable gown. Oh, if only she could return to Atlantis on her own. But she dared not without Jordan’s permission or he’d follow her, and this time he’d bring the Navy with him to destroy the island and all its inhabitants. He was so infuriating!
This morning, when he’d had the audacity to propose that she attend a ball, as if nothing had happened in her life over the past few months, she’d decided to make him understand how unfeeling he was being. Well, now he must surely understand how she saw his interference. Perhaps he’d finally listen to her.
