A Lady in Love by Cynthia Bailey Pratt Read Free Book Online

Finally, tired of propping up the thick volume, she put it down beside her and blew out the candle.
    Instantly, the silver-shadowed darkness of the misty evening filled the room. Sarah leaned her head against the cool pane and dreamed a tale of her own. This was a tower and she a princess. Somewhere beyond her enchanted window, dragons prowled. Never fear, the prince was bound to come along at any moment.
    Behind her, the doorknob rattled. Though she could still hear the laughter of the guests, the small clock on the mantle had chimed twelve o'clock none too long ago. The knob rattled again, and a solid thud sounded against the panels. Assuming one of the girls who were also to stay the night had come up, Sarah unfolded her legs and went to the door.
    "Enter,” she said, as a princess should, sweeping it open. Then she gasped and fumbled for the open throat of her nightdress. The figure on the other side of the threshold was far too broad to be anything female.
    His name escaped her, though she knew she'd been introduced by one of the twins. He was as surprised to see her as she was to see him. “Why are you in my room?'’ he asked thickly.
    "This is Miss Phelps’ room."
    "No, it isn't.” He shook his head and an admonishing finger. His small eyes were reddened.
    Suddenly to Sarah's senses came a waft of alcohol. There'd been none in the punch; they must have been serving it to the card players. Both her brothers and the Phelps twins had dabbled with liquor in boyhood. Sarah had learned from them that it was useless to argue with someone who'd been drinking. “Good-night.” Stepping back, she tried to close the door.
    The man stiff-armed it open. “Prove it to you,” he said, stumbling in.
    "No, you can't ..."
    "Dark?” He looked about him, then at her. The light from the hall was sufficient to show her, gleaming in her white night attire. Sarah bit her lip in sudden fear.
    "Pretty girl, pretty girl.” He reached out and gave her cheek a pat. Then, as though that had been a last effort anyone could reasonably expect him to make, he fell down. The noise was thunderous, though not so hard to explain as the immediate snores that began to issue from his open mouth.
    "Sir, sir?” she said, kneeling beside him. Shaking him did nothing but increase the loudness of the noises. Closing her eyes, Sarah wished him away with all her strength. But the rasping breaths went on. From the mantle, the little china clock sang the quarter-hour. Soon, the other girls must come up. What would they say, finding a man stretched out on the carpet? Sarah almost hoped they would come up at once. Together, they might be able to move him to his own room, as she never could alone.
    If only she had not been here! Sarah understood about compromising situations. Aunt Whitsun had described several to her, with warnings about the unhappy fate of any girl caught in such a coil as this. “Fortune-hunters often entrap a girl of means in this way. To be alone with a man in a bedroom, especially at night, is a scandal that can only be hushed up by an immediate marriage."
    Sarah did not want to be married to the drunken fellow on the floor, no matter that she now recalled him as the second son of the Duke of Brae. She'd hoped to have more of a conversation with her affianced groom than a squabble about whose room she was in. At least he found her pretty, though he was not to her taste. He had not Lord Reyne's height for one thing, nor dark hair, nor eyes the color of a deep lost lake. Sarah dared not imagine what Lord Reyne would think if he saw her now.
    Well, she thought, standing up, the first thing to do is to get some light. Then, perhaps I can awaken him. Surely, if I shake him extra hard ...
    He couldn't be harder to wake than her brother Sam. No one could be harder to wake than Sam.
    Taking up the candle from beside the window seat, she maneuvered around the prone gentleman. With a glance left and right in the hall, Sarah stepped out to catch a