Free Cheryl Holt by Total Surrender

interval, carefully choosing her words—“he wouldn’t be a fitting prospect for you, so there’s no excuse to amble down that road.” At Sarah’s raised brow, Pamela hastily supplied, “Pardon me if I sound unduly harsh, and please don’t misconstrue. Michael is a great friend of mine, but he’s not at all what you’re seeking.”
    Sarah blushed to the tips of her toes. Did Pamela suppose she was husband-hunting? Did everyone? What indiscreet statements had Hugh used to explain Sarah’s attendance? Flustered, she glanced around. Were the other guests stealthily assessing her, eager to behold more of her inept forays into the matrimonial quagmire performed by the aristocracy?
    “I’m not searching for a man,” she felt obligated to clarify.
    Pamela bent closer still, and Sarah was frightfully glad that they were sequestered. If a single utterance of their conversation was overheard, she’d expire from humiliation. “Let me be frank, Sarah. I know why you’re here—”
    “No you don’t,” she interrupted. “Not if you think I’m stalking after a husband.”
    “But Hugh said—”
    “Hugh was wrong.”
    “Oh, my apologies.” Confused, Pamela queried, “So, why exactly
are
you here?”
    “I’m not sure,” Sarah replied with such candor that Pamela laughed aloud. “I was just so tired of being at home. It’s been . . .” She paused. Though she liked Pamela verymuch, and the woman inspired confidences, Sarah wasn’t ready to confess how dire were the circumstances, so she finished with, “It’s been hard. I was anxious for a change of scene, and it’s been terribly long since I’ve gone visiting.”
    “Too true,” Pamela concurred. “This is so embarrassing. Hugh told me that you were set to wed, and he requested that I facilitate matters by introducing you to any gentlemen who might suit. I’ve been racking my brain and luring some of them out to the country. Hugh insisted you were disposed.”
    “That rat! I’ll kill him.”
    “Don’t waste your energy, dear,” Pamela succinctly asserted. “Hugh can manage to
kill
himself without any assistance from you.”
    Because the proclamation was so agonizingly accurate, Sarah didn’t respond. Hugh was in a descending spiral that couldn’t have a satisfactory conclusion, but she’d deduced ages ago that there was nothing she could do but persevere while preparing for the worst. “Hugh presumes I’m in pursuit of a husband,” she grumbled, “but really, I just came to get away from all the pressure.”
    “As you should have”—Pamela smiled conspiratorially—“and I’m honored that you selected my party for your holiday. How long will you stay?”
    “How about three weeks?”
    “Marvelous. We’ll fill your time with engaging recreation, then send you home refreshed and primed to face whatever is approaching.”
    From Pamela’s shrewd expression, Sarah suspected that the other woman had learned much more about Hugh’s affairs than she was willing to divulge, but then, it was rumored that there were few secrets Pamela Blair hadn’t uncovered.
    Sarah affirmed, “The rest will be vastly appreciated.”
    “Then
rest
you shall. And who can say? Maybe my machinations won’t be for naught. Perhaps some dashing beau will catch your attention.”
    “I doubt it,” Sarah griped, which caused Pamela to laugh again.
    “An innocent flirtation might be just the ticket.” Ready to move on, she stood. “If I can do anything to make your visit more pleasant, please notify me.” She turned to go, hesitated, then whispered, “And at all costs, avoid Michael Stevens. You don’t need a complication like that in your life.”
    With a wink, she sauntered down the terrace, and Sarah jealously critiqued how she mingled with the crowd, how readily she belonged in any situation. The ability to fraternize was never a gift Sarah had possessed, and she suddenly felt all alone even though she was surrounded by dozens of people. She hated being