Chapter 3 #2
She wanted to slouch in her chair. She was tired of being berated for something that was of no consequence to anyone but the Brazen Belle.
But it was due to her latest choice for the rake of the month that Sariah was now forced to endure this moment of strife.
She had been awakened by her mother’s abrupt arrival in her bedchamber, demanding to know why her daughter was featured in a column generally reserved for ne’er-do-wells.
Sariah realized that her hope that she hadn’t been noticed at the Pond was in vain, so she’d done her best to brush off the incident.
Of course, instead of inquiring as to whether or not Sariah was well after such a harrowing, near death experience, her parents were more concerned about the husband she did not yet have and how it would affect her future prospects.
Truly, the society she lived amongst was rather antiquated when that was all that concerned her family.
“I cannot imagine that the earl and viscount will not take their daughters to task for their participation in this fiasco, whereas you are the one who is the most threatened,” her father wondered aloud.
“We must find a way to smooth this over until the Little Season begins. I can only pray that the excitement has died down by then, and that we can be so fortunate that most of the families who have already retired to their country estates for the summer shall quickly put this incident out of their minds.”
Sariah did not say anything in rebuttal.
She did nothing more than sit there and allow her father to continue rambling about what a mess she had made of things, when she was even more determined to turn the ton upside down.
She could not wait to see Maggie and Ava to discover how they had been berated and discuss what action they should take next to prove that they were capable women instead of just an ornament meant for a man’s arm.
Sariah had always believed that if she was considered old enough to marry, then surely she could be counted upon to know her own mind. But apparently, that was not the case.
A footman appeared in the doorway, and Sariah was grateful for the interruption. Perhaps she could sneak out of the room while her father was occupied… “A caller is asking for an audience with you, my lord.”
A silver salver was extended, and the baron waved a hand, brushing it off. “We are not receiving right now.”
The footman seemed reluctant to accept that as an answer. “Beg pardon, my lord, but this might be one gentleman you might wish to make an exception for.”
Sariah was curious, but it was not enough to keep her present. She was slowly tiptoeing toward the other side of the room and the other exit when her father announced firmly, “Sit down, Sariah. You shall stay for this meeting as well.”
Her heart deflated, but she returned to her previous chair and plopped down. No doubt there was a look of angst on her face, but her father paid her no heed as he waited for the caller to make an appearance.
She looked toward the windows, hoping that she might be granted the appropriate amount of polite demeanor to greet the visitor, but when the guest entered and her gaze caught those green orbs, she stood up abruptly. “You!”
“Sariah!” Her father immediately berated her while offering a greeting to her heroic Adonis from the pond. “I do apologize for my daughter. She is a bit… overset from her ordeal yesterday.”
“That is to be expected,” the man drawled. Sariah did not miss the mocking undertone as his lips twitched.
Her father offered him a seat, and the man sat down.
Sariah did not like seeing him there, in her house, in her parlor, which was supposed to be her safe haven.
He was invading her privacy when she had been hoping to sweep the entire encounter under the rug and forget it had ever occurred.
Since he was currently standing in her father’s study, she could only wonder as to the reason for it.
Introductions were made and although Sariah told herself she should not care in the least; she found her ears were more attuned to his answers. “Forgive the intrusion, my lord. However, considering we are currently aligned, I thought it best to request an audience.”
“That is very kind of you, Mr.…”
“Reed Carrington,” he offered smoothly. Sariah narrowed her gaze, trying to picture if that name suited him, and decided that it did. It seemed arrogant enough.
“I am Baron Foxworth, and I believe you have already made the acquaintance of my daughter, Miss Sariah Kent.”
“Indeed.”
She waited for more, but when he did not elaborate, failing to tout his own importance as a hero, she felt rather deflated. She thought for sure that he would attempt to impress her father with his talents. Instead, he did the opposite.
“My lord, I am here with a request. I am sure you are aware of the latest issue of the Rake Review and how the Brazen Belle’s columns have a way of engaging society’s attention.
My fellow colleagues believe that until some of the attention dies down, it would be best if I turn my attentions elsewhere.
They feel it would behoove both Miss Kent and I, if we were seen together on familiar terms so that the gossip will soon be smoothed over and society will soon be involved with other matters. ”
Sariah wanted to snort. She did not expect her father to agree to an association with a commoner, however temporarily, but she was wrong.
“I could not agree more, Mr. Carrington.” His gaze was shrewd. “I am aware of your business ventures and I have been meaning to reach out to discuss a possible investment. This meeting couldn’t have come at a better time for either of us, I think.”
“I will be happy to supply any information you might require,” Reed returned smoothly.
It was obvious this was not his first time securing a patron for his endeavors.
“If I might ask a favor in return?” When her father inclined his head, Reed added, “With these similar interests in mind, perhaps you might assist in opening some doors that might have been previously unavailable to someone with my background?”
Her father seemed to mull this over for a time. “I believe so. Tell me, do you have plans for this evening? There is an opera we were going to attend, and I know of a few possible contacts that you might be interested in meeting.”
“That would be perfect, my lord. Thank you for your kind consideration.”
Sariah could not believe what she was hearing. Was she truly going to have to share a theatre box with that man?
She must have made some sort of noise, because her father glanced at her. “I hope my daughter was the sole discretion of propriety yesterday, Mr. Carrington.”
Her focus shifted and clashed with that fiery green gaze. Her heart started to pound because she feared that he would tell her father about the scathing she’d offered, but instead, he said evenly, “She was a model of society, my lord.”
Her father expelled a breath. “I am relieved to hear it.”
Sariah’s focus narrowed, because the cocky grin that appeared on Mr. Carrington’s mouth did not bode well. Something told her that he would make her earn that remark for her father’s behalf. It was the question of paying such a price for silence which made her pulse race traitorously.
It was going to be torture to spend an entire evening in his company while pretending that everything was perfectly normal. Perhaps she could claim an illness and remain behind, but she knew nothing short of a disparaging fever would convince her father to let her stay at home.
God help her.