The Offer by Catherine Coulter

together. He said in a voice colder than the frozen pond in the east gardens, “Sabrina isn’t a slut, Elizabeth, even though it suits you to insist upon it. Your spite does you no credit. Sabrina throw herself at Trevor? Such a thing is nonsense, absurd.” He saw Elizabeth pale, but doubted he could bully her into telling him the truth. He’d believed, foolishly perhaps, that Elizabeth’s dislike of her sister would lessen once he’d secured her a husband, and not just any husband, but the future Earl of Monmouth. He had made certain that she would marry before Sabrina, even going so far as to deny a powerful nobleman Sabrina’s hand until after Elizabeth was safely wedded. He shook his head, knowing that he wasn’t being entirely honest with himself. No, the truth of the matter was that he’d wanted above all things to keep Sabrina with him for as long as possible. If only Clarendon had wanted Elizabeth instead of Sabrina. But of course, Richard Clarendon had been drawn to Sabrina the moment he’d seen her laughing with old Squire Frobisher as she’d helped him to his chair. He remembered seeingthe look on Richard’s face and knowing, simply knowing, that Clarendon wanted her.
    The earl looked back at Elizabeth’s pale face. “Well, don’t you have anything to say to me?” It was a meaningless question. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she would say, if she would say anything at all.
    Elizabeth felt the old earl’s eyes on her face. “Why is it, sir, if Sabrina had decided to leave Monmouth Abbey—for whatever reason—that she didn’t come and discuss her plans with you? You have said yourself that her letter told you nothing. Does that fact not imply her guilt and shame in this entire matter?”
    She’d shaken him. She wanted to smile. It took all her resolve to keep still, to keep all her triumph, her pleasure at her blow to herself. He appeared to shrink visibly in his chair, and his fierce blue eyes dimmed. Ah yes, she thought, your precious Sabrina, who’s always shared her fancies and problems with you, her doting grandfather—gone with only a meaningless letter to you.
    The earl drew a deep breath. “I shall never believe the story you and your husband have tried to foist on me, Elizabeth. Leave me now.”
    Her shoulders squared, Elizabeth turned on her heel and walked quickly from the library, without a backward glance. As she walked across the massive flagstone entrance hall, she wondered what would happen to her and Trevor if Sabrina hadn’t been consumed by the blizzard.
    â€œLady Elizabeth.”
    She turned abruptly, her hand on the balustrade. “Yes, Ribble?”
    â€œForgive me, my lady, but the Marquess of Arysdale has come to call on Lady Sabrina. He is in the drawing room. I didn’t think it my place to tell his lordship that Lady Sabrina wasn’t here.”
    Elizabeth felt a deep jolt of pleasure sweep through her. She licked her dry lips. Good God, Richard Clarendon was here. She saw that Ribble was watching her and nodded briskly. “I will see him, Ribble.” She felt both frightened and excited at the prospect of seeing Richard, the man she’d fallen in love with when she was sixteen and he, twenty-one. She had given him every encouragement over the years, had even blatantly talked of her dowry to him, one befitting the heir to the Duke of Portsmouth. When his young wife had died over two years ago, her hopes had soared. She remembered the shock of betrayal she’d felt when only six months ago she had overheard him tell the earl that it was Sabrina he wanted. Her humiliation was made all the worse by the fact that neither of them seemed to care that she was within earshot.
    Every word spoken was still clear in her mind, the pain of them still bowing her in on herself. The earl had said in that deep smooth voice of his, his brows beetled together, “My