prove a point.
“Aren’t they the same?” She said it rather helplessly, delaying her moment of confession.
“One is about pleasure, Miss Fairleigh, and the other is about duty. Then again, perhaps you take pleasure in duty. I can only imagine you do, if you’ve dreams of living in penury serving the poor as a missionary. Tell me, once and for all, why do you help?”
She tried for a partial answer. “Because I…must. Because it’s right.”
“Right for whom?” Relentless, he was. Ferocious as any debater who ever stood in the House of Lords. She wondered if he did take his place in debates in the House of Lords. She didn’t know where he’d find the time to do it, given his schedule of debauchery.
And in a way it was invigorating to encounter a mind that would never let her dodge a truth. Then again, she could have happily lived without being shown certain truths.
But as she was innately honest, she could hardly avoid answering.
And at last she did. “Right for…me.” Her voice was a trifle creaky when it emerged.
Like a tiger with its kill between its paws, he all but purred the next words. “Ah. Very well, then. Feel free to make an entreaty on Geoffrey’s behalf, Miss Fairleigh, and feel free to judge me if you will, Miss Fairleigh, but judge me honestly. We are not so very different, you and I, in our commitment to pleasure.”
Humbled, Sabrina looked up into his satisfied face.
But she suddenly understood something: that satisfaction he felt was only momentary. The rest of the time he was restless and bored and—
“Oh, I fear there you are wrong, Lord Rawden. For helping makes me happy. ”
And it was a pleasure, and not a pleasure, to watch him blink as though she’d slapped him. All the fierce light and satisfaction fled his face for an instant, and unguarded, he looked purely…astonished.
His mask was back in an instant, as if the moment had never been.
“You came here to plead with me about Geoffrey, I imagine, Miss Fairleigh,” he said calmly. “What is it you wish to say?”
Sabrina could not recover quite so swiftly as the earl from their exchange. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Sparring with him—and his mere presence—was as invigorating and disturbing as a stiff wind. And all the things he made her aware of, things she wasn’t certain she wanted to know, crowded into her thoughts now, tangling with her plans and the words she wanted to say.
“He wants to do some good in the world, Geoffrey does,” she said quietly, simply. “That’s all, Lord Rawden. You have it within your means to permit that to happen.”
“And you want to accompany him on his mission.” A statement.
She was silent for a moment. “I would very much like to do some good as well. And we are of two minds, philosophically, Geoffrey and I.”
“Of even temperament?” he asked ironically.
She didn’t respond. Breathed in, breathed out. Her temperament at the moment felt more like waves battering at cliff walls.
It was entirely his fault.
The earl nodded to himself once, as if her silence was answer enough. He eyed the portrait that so resembled his cousin. Spent another moment in quiet.
“Has he offered for you, Miss Fairleigh? Do you yet have an understanding? You didn’t answer my question.” His voice was level. The question seemed reflective.
She flushed. “Well…no, he has not yet offered. But I believe it’s because he is uncertain about his future, and he is concerned about what he may be able to offer a wife. I have every expectation that once he knows . . .”
“You’ve a good deal of faith in Geoffrey’s intentions, Miss Fairleigh, have you?” And he was ironic again.
How difficult it must be, she thought, to think so cynically of everyone. What a burden.
“I—,” she began, but he held up a hand to stop her, shook his head once, as though he didn’t require an answer.
She waited again, as he said nothing for a time. Reflective. He turned to her,
“Aren’t they the same?” She said it rather helplessly, delaying her moment of confession.
“One is about pleasure, Miss Fairleigh, and the other is about duty. Then again, perhaps you take pleasure in duty. I can only imagine you do, if you’ve dreams of living in penury serving the poor as a missionary. Tell me, once and for all, why do you help?”
She tried for a partial answer. “Because I…must. Because it’s right.”
“Right for whom?” Relentless, he was. Ferocious as any debater who ever stood in the House of Lords. She wondered if he did take his place in debates in the House of Lords. She didn’t know where he’d find the time to do it, given his schedule of debauchery.
And in a way it was invigorating to encounter a mind that would never let her dodge a truth. Then again, she could have happily lived without being shown certain truths.
But as she was innately honest, she could hardly avoid answering.
And at last she did. “Right for…me.” Her voice was a trifle creaky when it emerged.
Like a tiger with its kill between its paws, he all but purred the next words. “Ah. Very well, then. Feel free to make an entreaty on Geoffrey’s behalf, Miss Fairleigh, and feel free to judge me if you will, Miss Fairleigh, but judge me honestly. We are not so very different, you and I, in our commitment to pleasure.”
Humbled, Sabrina looked up into his satisfied face.
But she suddenly understood something: that satisfaction he felt was only momentary. The rest of the time he was restless and bored and—
“Oh, I fear there you are wrong, Lord Rawden. For helping makes me happy. ”
And it was a pleasure, and not a pleasure, to watch him blink as though she’d slapped him. All the fierce light and satisfaction fled his face for an instant, and unguarded, he looked purely…astonished.
His mask was back in an instant, as if the moment had never been.
“You came here to plead with me about Geoffrey, I imagine, Miss Fairleigh,” he said calmly. “What is it you wish to say?”
Sabrina could not recover quite so swiftly as the earl from their exchange. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Sparring with him—and his mere presence—was as invigorating and disturbing as a stiff wind. And all the things he made her aware of, things she wasn’t certain she wanted to know, crowded into her thoughts now, tangling with her plans and the words she wanted to say.
“He wants to do some good in the world, Geoffrey does,” she said quietly, simply. “That’s all, Lord Rawden. You have it within your means to permit that to happen.”
“And you want to accompany him on his mission.” A statement.
She was silent for a moment. “I would very much like to do some good as well. And we are of two minds, philosophically, Geoffrey and I.”
“Of even temperament?” he asked ironically.
She didn’t respond. Breathed in, breathed out. Her temperament at the moment felt more like waves battering at cliff walls.
It was entirely his fault.
The earl nodded to himself once, as if her silence was answer enough. He eyed the portrait that so resembled his cousin. Spent another moment in quiet.
“Has he offered for you, Miss Fairleigh? Do you yet have an understanding? You didn’t answer my question.” His voice was level. The question seemed reflective.
She flushed. “Well…no, he has not yet offered. But I believe it’s because he is uncertain about his future, and he is concerned about what he may be able to offer a wife. I have every expectation that once he knows . . .”
“You’ve a good deal of faith in Geoffrey’s intentions, Miss Fairleigh, have you?” And he was ironic again.
How difficult it must be, she thought, to think so cynically of everyone. What a burden.
“I—,” she began, but he held up a hand to stop her, shook his head once, as though he didn’t require an answer.
She waited again, as he said nothing for a time. Reflective. He turned to her,
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