The Saint-Germain Chronicles by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Page A

honor, not that any was left to her.” Whittenfield gave a little shrug. “Sabrina says in her journal that at the moment she wished she had become the Count’s mistress, for the thought of parting from him was a bitter one. Until she saw her husband, she says, she did not realize how she had come to trust and rely on her employer. At last, the night coming on and the hour of the duel approaching, she searched out the Count as he was preparing to leave the house, and told him that she would pray for him, and that she hoped he would not despise her for turning against Sir James. He answered that he was grateful for her prayers and did not fault her for seeking to stay away from Sir James, if not for her own sake, for the sake of her children, who must surely suffer at his hands. She agreed with some fear and told the Count that she wished she had not told the warden where she could be found, so that Sir James might never have found her. The Count did not chide her for this, but reminded her that she had chosen to follow her husband rather than turn to her family when his cast him out. She did not deny this, but said that part of her fears were that she would become a drudge if she appealed to her father or her uncles for maintenance. With two children to care for, she decided it would hurt them, and when she and Sir James had come to the Continent, it was not too bad at first. The Count heard her out and offered to provide her with funds to allow her to return to England and set herself up in reasonable style. He told her that no matter what the outcome of the duel was, he feared it would be most unwise for her to continue living under his roof, for doubtless Sir James would spend part of the time before the meeting in composing damning letters to send to various relatives. Sadly, Sabrina admitted this was true. Shortly before the Count left, she asked him why he had not made her his mistress. He had an equivocal answer for her—that surely her dreams were sweeter.”
    “Why, that’s outrageous!” Lord Graveston burst out. “And she tolerated it? The effrontery of the fellow.”
    “How could he know?” Everard wondered. “If she never told him, it may be that he was telling her that he did not fancy her in that way.”
    “Any real man fancies an attractive woman in that way,” Hamworthy said with a significant and critical glance at Everard.
    “Whatever the case,” Whittenfield said sharply, “the Count left her and went to his other house. And after debating with herself for the better part of an hour, Sabrina got her cloak and followed him. She remembered the directions that the Count had given Sir James, and she went quickly, avoiding those streets where taverns still did business and roistering songs rang through the hollow night. It took her some little time to find the house, and once she feared she was lost, but eventually she came upon the place, a great, sprawling manor, three stories high, with an elegant facade. Most of the windows were dark, but there were lights in the area she thought might be the kitchen, and a few candles flickered in one of the other rooms. Now she was faced with the problem of how to enter the building. There was a wrought iron gate, but she was confident she could climb it, but the house itself puzzled her. She hitched up her skirts and grabbed the ornamental scrollwork…”
    “What a hoyden!” Dominick sniggered.
    “I think she’s jolly intrepid,” Everard said, turning slightly rosier.
    “Sounds like just the bubble-headed thing she would do, judging from the rest of your narrative,” Twilford sighed.
    “Well, no matter what we think, gentlemen, the fact remains that she did it,” Whittenfield said with a hint of satisfaction.
    “Does she tell whether or not she stopped the duel?” the sixth guest asked. He had been still while Whittenfield talked, giving his host polite attention.
    “She was stymied at first, she indicates in her journal. She looked around the