Page 63 of Scandalous

Wasn’t it?

Not that any of that mattered. Martín would hardly be moving in the same circles as Sarah, the Dutchman, and Ramsay once they got to London. Lady Ramsay would see to it Sarah was accepted wherever she went. Hugh and his wife might be unconventional, but the baron was connected to just about every powerful house in England. However, even the baron would not be able to shoehorn an ex-slave into the exalted company of the ton. Not that Martín wanted such a thing, of course.

He tossed back his drink, and poured another. He would have to find his own level in London.

Chapter Twenty-One

The three days at Lessing Hall passed too quickly for Sarah. Although she spent no time alone with Martín, she saw him most days and every evening at dinner. She loved those evenings, the wonderful conversation around the dinner table, and the after-dinner chess and cards. Lord Ramsay took it upon himself to teach her whist, and the games among the four of them—Lady Ramsay did not care for cards—were loud, raucous events filled with much arguing.

Sarah was a fast learner and felt pleased the evening she and the baron beat the two captains for the first time. It was amusing to see Martín repress his irritation at losing and even more humorous to watch the two men wrangle and try to pin the blame for their loss on each other.

By the morning of their departure Sarah felt more at home at Lessing Hall than she had anywhere since leaving her village.

Mies, Daphne, Sarah, and Rowena occupied the coach, while the baron and Martín rode beside it. Sarah was not surprised to see Martín was an excellent rider and looked as if he were one with his horse.

They stopped for lunch and a change of horses at a charming posting inn, making a very merry party, well acquainted and comfortable with one another by now. Even Martín resisted the urge to bait Mies, instead treating him with the same tolerant contempt he showed everyone except Ramsay.

The carriage reached the outskirts of London just as darkness was falling, and Sarah gawked in wonder as the coach rolled through street after street of the massive city. The buildings and the people seemed to get more attractive and well-tended looking the farther away they got from the river.

Davenport House—the family home of Lord Ramsay—was considerably smaller than Lessing Hall, but infinitely more elegant, something Sarah would not have believed possible.

When Sarah entered her sumptuous suite, she found an enormous tub of hot water and a maid already waiting for her. She left her clothing and hair decisions to the maid and was soon dressed and ready. Although Daphne had not said as much, Sarah assumed they would all meet in the library.

Sarah encountered Mies on the stairs.

“You look divine, Sarah.”

She recoiled at his words and warm look. “Thank you, Mies. You look very nice, too,” she replied coolly, hoping to halt the flow of fulsome compliments. The young Dutchman, with his limited wardrobe, was always the first down to dinner. Martín, by contrast, was generally the last, his time-consuming toilette requiring more time than either of the women’s.

Daphne was still in her traveling clothes and leaning over a mass of books and papers when they entered the library.

“Oh, is it time for dinner?” Daphne frowned at the half dozen books that lay open. “I suppose I should leave this until later.” She looked down at one of the open books and turned a page, as if she were considering sitting down.

“If you make haste I shall tell Lord Ramsay you will be down shortly,” Sarah said, realizing only after she’d spoken how presumptuous it sounded to order the baroness about in her own house.

Daphne bit her lower lip. “Yes, I believe you’re correct. Thank you, Sarah.” She gave the books one last yearning glance before hurrying from the room.

Mies grimaced at the pile of books. “She has trapped me twice to discuss Spinoza. I have no clue what she is talking about. She is a brilliant woman—almost frightening.” He shivered.

The library was not as large as that at Lessing Hall, but it seemed to have more novels. Sarah pulled down a new-looking volume titled Pride and Prejudice. She’d only read a couple of pages when the baron entered.

He glanced at the cluttered desk and smiled. “Did you have to chase her from the room at gunpoint?”

“Yes, but she will still be down before Captain Bouchard.”

Ramsay chuckled. “How about a glass of something to tide us over?” he asked them. “We could be here for hours.”

In fact, they’d only been chatting a few minutes when Martín joined them.

“Good Lord, Martín, how many men participated in the construction of that cravat?” Ramsay demanded. “Where in God’s name did you come upon that design?”

“This is something I picked up from my French tailor in Cairo.”

“I suppose it’s a good deal better than some of the things you could have picked up in Cairo.”

Ramsay and even Mies snickered.

Martín gave them a look of haughty contempt. “No doubt you will be seeing more of such stylish fashions now that France can again influence this benighted country.”