Married for His Convenience by Eleanor Webster

Author:Eleanor Webster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Nothing in Sarah’s previous life had prepared her for Carlton House. Black-and-white marble tiled the entrance hall. A wide staircase swept upward towards the upper floor. Nymphs and cupids decorated every inch of the ceiling and even the door frames glittered with gold leaf. Perfume scented the air while huge candle-laden chandeliers hung low, creating a mix of golden light and shadows.

‘It’s glorious,’ she whispered.

Apprehension slithered down her spine as her gaze skittered between the august guests and even more august servants. She had a numb, nebulous feeling that nothing was real. How could it be? How could she—the illegitimate child of a country gentleman—be here?

‘It is not fashionable to gawp,’ Sebastian said in a terse whisper.

‘I have never been accused of fashion,’ Sarah muttered, but jerked herself out of her reverie and started her ascent.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a huge gilt-framed mirror and looked nervously away. Her dress, which had felt splendid in the house, paled in comparison to the other ladies’ gowns. The profusion of ringlets clustered over her forehead no longer looked as stylish as she had thought. Indeed, they were likely unsuitable.

‘It would so much be easier if I were blonde,’ she said, then flushed, realising that she had spoken out loud.

Sebastian looked at her. ‘I like brown hair. Particularly yours.’

She felt her face grow warm, but there was no time to reply or consider his response. Already they were halfway up the staircase, the noise of music and chatter spilling from the ballroom and into the hall.

Sarah stood at the top of the stairs and looked around in disbelief. The ballroom surpassed the entrance tenfold. It was Oberon’s palace peopled with fairies. Gowns of every hue danced in dazzling, mesmeric patterns and huge bouquets of flowers decorated the room with splashes of pink and purple, their fragrance mixing with the ladies’ heavy perfumes so that the air was redolent with scent.

‘Lord and Lady Langford,’ the footman intoned.

Was it her imagination or did hundreds of curious eyes peer at her in blatant curiosity?

Her fingers tightened against the cloth of Sebastian’s sleeve and her stomach lurched. For an awful moment she feared she could not do it, that she must turn and push through the people behind her in a desperate escape.

She didn’t, stumbling forward instead.

‘I’ll get you a drink and introduce you to a few people and, for goodness’ sake, stick with lemonade,’ Sebastian said as they reached the floor.

‘I am no fool.’

But before they could go towards the refreshments, an elderly woman approached with a determined step and, despite a stooped back, an autocratic bearing. She wore an old-fashioned gown of black brocade, nipped at the waist, and had an impressively high, powdered wig on her head, which had grown out of fashion many years ago.

‘Sebastian,’ the lady said, her voice so loud it trumpeted over the music. ‘Apparently, she exists. Although I must say, I do not like being introduced in a ballroom like any Tom, Dick or Harry.

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