Chapter 4
Lord Robert Coulthurst inspected his reflection in the full-length gilt mirror.
As a noted Corinthian, his attire was fashionable and elegant but lacked the fancy embellishments that denoted dandyism.
Just the balance he liked to strike. Colt possessed a powerful athlete’s build that gave him a certain advantage in his bearing.
With a self-satisfied smile—a smile that had melted the hearts of many—he regarded his presentation with approval.
A knock at the door interrupted his appraisal.
His distinguished butler, Scanlan, was a mature woman of around fifty.
Attired from head to toe in black—aside from a neat white necktie—she possessed stern features and slicked-back hair.
Over the years, she had earned herself a reputation for being diligent and precise.
In exchange for her excellent service, he provided her with ample remuneration, full board, and two days off a week that she might enjoy as she wished.
“Mrs Fortescue is here to see you, my lord. In the library.”
Colt raked his hand back through his hair, as the familiar pleasure and torment of Sarah’s presence washed over him. He thanked Scanlan and hurried through the final stages of his dressing.
His library was decorated in a masculine style.
A pair of crossed Hussar sabers formed a menacing ‘x’ above the cluttered mantle-piece that held a tortoise-shelled cigar box, a rustic mantle clock standing proudly upon its four brass feet (yet running ten minutes behind time), and a small container which Colt idly identified as a snuff box he had misplaced some days ago.
Two of the four walls boasted ceiling--high shelves overcrowded with old books that exuded an earthy aroma.
A fire, lit by an obliging attendant some time earlier, crackled and smelled like burning coals tempered with sandal-wood.
Sarah was perched near the fire on the Italian sofa, an elegant piece of furniture with pale, green-striped satin and carved mahogany edging.
Her wicker bonnet framed her pretty face, with olive- and black-striped ribbons tied in an oversized bow under her chin.
Not a single hair was out of its rightful place.
She wore a white muslin gown and a peach spencer coat, which enhanced the richness of her russet skin tone.
She glanced up and caught Colt’s eager appraisal; her brown eyes kindled as they met his, and she stood up.
“Sarah,” he greeted her, bowing over her hand. Glancing down at the fingers touching his, he squeezed them. “Your hands are like ice. Warm them by the fire, dearest, and tell me, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
Sarah extended her hands to the fire to thaw. “I am glad you are at home, Robert.”
“I hardly perceive how I would not be at this early hour. Unless I slept somewhere else, of course.” He grinned at his afterthought.
“I have just been at Hatchards. While perusing some novels, young Miss Chen approached me. She is an exquisite girl. I daresay she will be married in no time. I wonder who the lucky person shall be?” She stared into the flames, but then her gaze flashed back to him.
“That signifies neither way, however. We discussed a few of the latest titles, and I took it upon myself to dissuade her from some books that were not suitable for a debutante in her first season.”
Colt regarded her with an air of confusion, unclear how Miss Chen’s choice of reading material related to him. “I daresay your counsel will have the opposite of its desired effect, Sarah.”
She frowned. “Oh, that is true. I did not even consider that.”
He continued to smile, waiting for her to proceed with her story.
“Then, as I made my purchase, I looked outside and spied none other than Mr Pace,” she said at last.
“Indeed?”
“Mr Silas Pace. Georgina’s father.”
“He is the only Mr Pace I know, in fact.” He gave an indifferent shrug.
“This means they have returned to London.”
Colt made his way to a table cluttered with bottles and crystal glassware.
“Can I offer you a drink?” Without waiting for a response, he poured her a large glass of Madeira.
“I hate to be the one to inform you of this, my dear, but I already knew they were back in town. Our George returned one or two days ago. I heard whispers in the clubs.”
“I wonder why she has not yet called upon either of us.” Sarah accepted the drink, eagerly bringing it to her mouth.
“I can think of many reasons, Sarah. Perhaps she is simply busy restoring her town affairs into order … or she is becoming reacquainted with a ladylove.” He did not take it personally that Georgina failed to notify him the moment she returned to London. He knew her too well.
Sarah pouted. “You don’t share my happiness about her return. Surely you missed her. There was no one to compete with you.”
“You puzzle me, Sarah. I am not sure to what competition you allude.”
Sarah surveyed him over the edge of her glass. “Do not talk such fustian to me, Robert. Perhaps this year, you might encounter your ideal match and stop playing your games.”
Colt, Sarah, and Georgina had met over a decade ago, at the Derby Stakes in Epsom Downs.
All three had backed the winner, Ditto, owned by Sir Hedworth Williamson, but when it came time to claim their winnings, they all realised they had been hobbled by the same bookmaker, who had absconded with both their original bets and winnings.
Joining forces, the trio managed to track him down all the way to Hull.
While he never paid what he owed them, they did recover their initial outlays, together with a sense of justice, when they handed him over to a local magistrate. Since then, they had never been apart.
Georgina and Colt, in particular, shared a common interest in the petticoat line, and often bantered over who possessed the greatest skill in this area.
Whilst Georgina sought more worldly lovers, Colt preferred the thrill of unmarried damsels.
He had acquired quite the reputation among social circles for his ability to assist women in learning the scope of pleasure and intimacy available to them before settling into relationships.
Naturally, his services were not entirely altruistic.
He thoroughly enjoyed participating in the process.
Of course, there were instances when this did not unfold the way he intended.
At times, it was more like balancing on a razor’s edge.
One small slip, and he could find himself tethered at the altar.
It was a fine art, indeed, to assist someone without promising wedlock.
But he boasted many short dalliances with ladies who wished to enter their eventual marriages well-versed in their own bodies and desires.
As such, he considered himself far superior at the game of seduction than his dear friend George.
Though Sarah did not aspire to become a libertine herself, she witnessed her friends in their respective dalliances with indulgent tolerance. Occasionally, they called upon her to aid them out of a romantic entanglement or to soothe the ruffled feathers of a society patron.
Colt lounged beside Sarah on the sofa, pivoting his body to face her and draping an arm over the couch. He could detect the faintest hint of jasmine. For all his fair conquests, the mere scent of her could still drive him mad with desire.
“Surely you did not call me from my bed merely to tell me that George is back in town?” Colt had no desire to discuss his matrimonial prospects with Sarah.
She beamed at him. “I deemed it highly critical news.”
“Perhaps you hoped to discover me still in bed?” he teased.
There was the barest hint of a smile. “Nonsense.”
Colt’s long fingers traced over the grooves of wood along the rear of the sofa. He averted his gaze from her. “If you wish to find me abed, I recommend calling on me before ten o’clock.”
“I also visit you for your excellent Madeira.”
Colt clasped his hand across his heart. “I thought you came here to see me.”
“Enough! You are being ridiculous,” she reprimanded him. “I want to talk to you about Georgina. What is to be done?”
“In what way? I’m unsure what you want me to do about her return. Send her back to Yorkshire?” Colt put his hands up in defeat.
Sarah must have been mad to think he might prevail upon George to change her ways. That would be like trying to persuade a river to modify its course.
“She acted rashly in Cornwall over Christmas,” Sarah went on.
“She seduced the Atkins chit and left the house under the cover of darkness. Or so I hear, at least. Her behaviour did not go unmarked, and the town gossips have already tattled extensively about her exploits. Miss Atkins’s credit almost did not survive the ordeal, and if it were not for Lord Ravenscroft’s timely marriage proposal, I struggle to imagine society countenancing her.
” Sarah fidgeted with her bracelet, twisting it backwards and forwards on her wrist. “Georgina, whenever she shows her face in town, will not crawl out of the affair unscathed.”
He gave a half-hearted shrug. To fully agree with Sarah felt like a betrayal of his other friend.
He shuddered to imagine Sarah’s reaction when she heard the whispers circulating that Georgina had already been witnessed skipping down a street half-naked two nights ago, in a state of unabashed glee. He would not tell her.
“I am hardly qualified to reproach Georgina. A trifle hypocritical of me, don’t you agree?”
“Certainly, but we must set her back on the path of propriety.” Sarah took another sip of her drink.
“Indeed. We should marry her off and hope her wife can tame her!”