Page 11 of Impassioned
“I don’t, really.”
“Of course you don’t,” Lucien muttered, wiping a hand over his forehead. “What is your end goal here, Sabrina? Are you trying to make this marriage into something more than it is?”
“Since it is currently next to nothing, yes. I’m not ready to ignore it. Certainly not until after I have a child.” Once she was no longer alone, she didn’t particularly care what happened.
His dark brows shot up. “That is your goal then—a child?”
“Yes.”
He massaged his temple. “You aren’t asking for help with that, are you?”
“No.” She would not rule it out, however. Perhaps Mrs. Renshaw could be of assistance. She was a widow, after all.
Lucien sat forward in the chair, his hands braced on his knees. “I am going to pledge my assistance—and that of Evie, Mrs. Renshaw, I mean—to you. My brother might be the most uptight, remote jackass in England, next to our father of course, but I love him and want to see him happy, even if he doesn’t know what that means.”
“Do you think that’s true?” Sabrina didn’t know or understand her husband at all.
“Sometimes, yes. It’s been ages since I can recall a time when he seemed genuinely joyful, and I’m sorry to say it wasn’t when he married you.” His brow furrowed, and he looked past her. “I think it was before our mother died.”
“I’ve often wondered about that. He’s never spoken of her.”
Lucien’s gaze snapped to hers. “Never?”
She shook her head, and he sat back, extending his legs out while he adopted a pensive expression, his cheeks elongating as he tightened his jaw.
“Perhaps jealousy would unseat the giant stick up Con’s ass,” Lucien mused.
“I beg your pardon?”
Lucien sat straight and waved his hand. “We need to provoke a reaction from your husband, and your transformation will do just that. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you’re admitted to the Phoenix Club with due haste. That way you can attend the assembly next Friday. That will drive him mad, I’m sure. Especially when you are the toast of the ball.” His mouth spread into a wide, cat-like grin. “Come, let us go see Mrs. Renshaw.” He jumped to his feet and offered her his hand.
Sabrina took it, rising slowly to her feet as a mixture of excitement and trepidation washed over her. “Now?”
“There is no time to lose. The new enigmatic and devastatingly charming Lady Aldington awaits.” He waggled his brows at her, and Sabrina’s insides turned over. She hadn’t imagined such enthusiastic support.
Gratitude, along with a myriad of other emotions, welled within her. “Thank you.” She only hoped she could become the things he said. She’d give anything to be that woman.
Chapter 4
As Sabrina and Lucien stepped outside, she looked askance at him. “My maid is in the coach. I should bring her to Mrs. Renshaw’s.” He’d already explained that Mrs. Renshaw lived just a short walk away on the other side of St. James Square.
Lucien inclined his head. “I’ll direct the coach to meet you there.”
While he went to converse with the driver, Sabrina reached for the door to the coach, but the groom beat her to it. Smiling, she thanked him, then explained to Charity that they would be walking to their next destination.
“We’re just going to the other side of the square,” Sabrina explained as Charity joined her on the pavement. As Charity glanced toward where Lucien was speaking with the driver, Sabrina added, “That is his lordship’s brother, Lord Lucien. He’s helping me with, er, a surprise.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. “Remember, Charity, no gossip.”
“Not a word, my lady.” The maid shook her head solemnly even as her tawny eyes glimmered with excitement, as if she were thrilled to be included in something.
Lucien joined them and offered his arm to Sabrina who introduced him to Charity.
“My sister works in a house on Charles Street,” she said.
He glanced toward Charity. “That is where we are going, actually.”
Sabrina suddenly recalled that Charity had said her sister worked for Mrs. Renshaw. “My goodness, Charity, we are going to your sister’s employer’s house.” She glanced toward Lucien. “I’d forgotten that. Her sister is Mrs. Renshaw’s lady’s maid.”
Lucien’s brows climbed as he looked to Charity. “You must be the other Miss Taylor. I arranged for your position in my brother’s home. He was in need of an upstairs maid, and you were in need of employment—and now look at you, promoted to lady’s maid.” He winked at her, and Charity’s round cheeks turned bright pink.
