Sweet Temptation by Leigh Greenwood Page B

direction.
    “We have been experiencing some difficulties with our Scottish estates as a result of this unfortunate rebellion,” explained the Earl. “He offered to spare me the necessity of traveling north in this season. Neither of us foresaw the Countess’s untimely death.”
    “But the funeral is to be held tomorrow morning,” tuttutted Lady Burroughs. “I don’t see how he can possibly return in time.”
    “I’ve sent someone after him,” the Earl said. “That is all we can do.”
    Gavin had not been notified, because no one knew where he was. Every one of the Earl’s attempts to locate his errant son had came to naught, another of the circumstances which had conspired to put him in a black rage. Between the stream of awe-inspiring visitors and the reports of yet another failure to locate Gavin, Sara had come to dread the sound of the knocker.
    “It will certainly be a sad homecoming,” stated Lady Burroughs, with a suitably lachrymose expression. “Everyone knows how extraordinarily fond Gavin was of the Countess. Are you sure there is nothing my son can do to help? He and Gavin are quite old friends.”
    The Earl’s expression seemed unchanged, but Sara had learned that the color in his dark blue eyes turned almost black when he was angered. Now, in the face of Lady Burroughs’s patent refusal to believe that Gavin had gone to Scotland and her determined effort to wrest information from him, the Earl’s eyes were as black as onyx.
    “It is most thoughtful of you to offer, but I expect we should see his arrival before we could get a new effort mounted.”
    Hardly had the words left the Earl’s mouth when a disturbance was heard outside in the hall. Before anyone had time to wonder aloud at the cause of such an inexplicable commotion, the salon doors flew open with an ear-splitting crash, and Gavin stood on the threshold, Clarice Wynburn followed uneasily in his wake.
    Sara’s first impulse was to jump up from her chair and rush to Gavin’s side. The expression on his face made her pause, but it was the woman at his side who kept her rooted to her chair. She was a beautiful woman, sophisticated and mature, and her body was expensively gowned in a way that made Sara feel like a blushing, ignorant, sexless girl. Who was this woman and why was she with Gavin instead of his wife?
    “Poor, unhappy boy,” gushed Lady Burroughs, the moment Gavin stepped through the door. She surged to her feet, her arms outstretched with the apparent intention of pressing the unfortunate “boy” to her very ample bosom. “Allow me to offer you my sincerest condolences.” But Gavin stared past Lady Burroughs at his father, his own black eyes filled with pain and rage.
    “Clarice tells me Mother is dead.” He was unable to keep his voice from breaking on the last word. Sara was almost embarrassed to have to look upon the suffering in his face, but the Burroughs women hungrily devoured every detail, no doubt storing it up for retelling later.
    The Earl rang a small bell before answering. “She died two days ago,” he said, struggling to contain his feelings in the face of the inquisitive visitors.
    “Why didn’t you tell me she was so ill?” Gavin demanded.
    Sara wondered if he could have endured watching his mother die. She wondered, too, if it might not have been the Countess’s decision not to tell her beloved son that she had so little time left.
    “Since you profess to love your mother so very greatly, I wonder that you did not see she was gravely ill.”
    “I didn’t know.” It was not offered as an excuse. It was an acceptance of guilt.
    Two weeks of living in Parkhaven House had done a lot to disabuse Sara of her favorable opinion of the Earl’s character, but the pointless cruelty of his words truly shocked her and she dug her nails into the arms of her chair as she watched Gavin turn white with shame. The accusation was cruelly unfair, but she could see Gavin thought he deserved it, and that he