Sarah flinched, for she had forgotten she’d told Meg that earlier in the party. It felt like a lifetime ago. “Well, earlier it was only the other dukes and duchesses at the gathering. This is a party. It may be solemn thanks to the recent loss of the duke, but I will stand out in my serviceable clothing.”
Meg leaned back and looked her up and down, like she was sizing her up. Then she nodded as if she were satisfied. “That will work.”
“Work?”
“Come with me,” Meg ordered. “I can fix this problem and I shall.”
Sarah blushed as she stood in the middle of Meg’s chamber an hour later. All the duchesses surrounded her, holding up one gown or the next, clucking over jewelry and hairstyles in a loud cacophony of kindness and fun. When Meg had brought her here and surrounded her with the other women, she’d felt awkward. She’d even tried to escape by making an excuse to see Phoebe. That had been squashed by Charlotte’s explanation that her charge was taking a nap. Their kindness had quickly made her discomfort fade. Now she was actually having fun.
Isabel approached, holding up a robin’s-egg blue gown. “That color matches your eyes perfectly,” she cooed. “But I think my bust is a little too small for it to fit you right.”
Katherine, Duchess of Roseford, clapped her hands. “I have a gown in the same color. Robert bought it for me in Spain, and it is exquisite!”
“I am so very envious of your adventures with Robert,” Emma said as Katherine rushed to the pile of gowns on Meg’s bed and dug through them looking for the one she wanted.
“You should tell James to take you,” Katherine said. “Traveling together is wonderfully romantic. You truly get to know each other in a new way.”
The women sighed almost en masse, and Sarah couldn’t help but do the same. “You and Roseford are recently married, are you not?”
Katherine nodded. “Yes, just half a year ago. We had a great deal to overcome, but I cannot deny that I have never been happier.”
“You earned all that happiness,” Adelaide said as she slid up and squeezed Katherine gently. “Both of you.”
Katherine smiled and then grabbed for the gown. “Ah, here it is.”
Sarah caught her breath. The silk on the gown was incredibly fine, the cut was amazing, and the detailing of braided silk and scalloped edging was impeccable.
“Oh, no,” she breathed. “I couldn’t wear that, Your Grace.”
Katherine shook her head. “Why ever not? You will look stunning in it.”
“You should wear it.”
Katherine stepped forward and held the dress up, then turned her toward the mirror. “No, I think you should. Please.”
It was clear there was no arguing, and in truth Sarah wanted to wear the fine dress. She wanted her hair done by Meg’s maid. She wanted to wear Isabel’s jewelry. She wanted to pretend that she would be the kind of woman Kit could have a future with. Just for one night.
She nodded, and the room let out a collective murmur of approval. Meg glanced at the clock and gasped. “Oh my, we shall all be late. Ladies, you should go get ready. Isabel, will you stay here with Sarah and me? We can share our maids.”
Isabel stepped up to squeeze Sarah. “Of course.”
“Thank you all so much for your kindness,” Sarah said softly. “I do appreciate it more than you could know.”
Each of the women squeezed her hand or said something kind as they trailed out. Emma was last and rang the bell by the door so Meg’s maid would come.
Within a few moments all three women were readying themselves. Sarah reveled in this time where she could almost forget all she’d lost. When everything was finished, she stepped up to the mirror.
“I look like…” She trailed off as tears filled her eyes. “I look like me. The old me. Only a much finer me.”
Isabel shook her head. “No, my dear. Just you. You could not be finer. Are you ready? I believe it’s time to join the party.”
Sarah drew a breath. She wasn’t exactly ready. She’d refused Kit’s invitation, and now she would just arrive at his gathering. Given his cool response earlier, she had no idea how he would react. And what about the others? The dukes and duchesses might be welcoming, but there would be strangers amongst their ranks tonight.
“You’ll be fine,” Meg said gently. “And you look wonderful.”
Sarah nodded and followed the ladies into the hallway. She was surprised to find that it was not empty. Phoebe stood with Adelaide, waiting for her to come out of the room. When she did, the little girl’s face lit up.
“You’re a princess,” she cooed, reaching out to stroke her fingers over the silky skirt of Sarah’s gown.
She crouched down to be closer to Phoebe and kissed her cheek. “No, lovie, I’m just me. I think you were going to help with the babies tonight, weren’t you?”
Phoebe nodded solemnly, as if she took this as a sacred duty. As she leaned in to kiss Sarah’s cheek, she whispered, “I wish you were my mama, Sarah. I don’t have a mama.”
Sarah caught her breath as she leaned away from the little girl. It was clear Adelaide had also heard the tiny declaration, for she turned her face with tears in her eyes.
Sarah caught Phoebe’s hands gently. “One day Kit will marry and you will have a lovely lady who will act as your mama, just as Kit acts as your papa now.”
Phoebe looked worried. “I want you.”
She could see the little girl was tired and anxious. So instead of arguing, she brushed her cheek and said, “Well, we’ll talk about it later. Now go and join the other children. I’m sure their nannies are looking forward to your help.”
Phoebe smiled and then skipped off in the direction of the nursery. As Sarah straightened, she shook her head at Isabel, Adelaide and Meg. “How do I explain to her that what she wants isn’t possible?”
Isabel shrugged. “Stop believing that it is. You never know what could happen. Now come on.”
Isabel linked arms with her, and the four women went down the long stairs together. At the bottom, Matthew, Graham and Simon waited together. Sarah saw their faces light up when they saw their wives. Felt the woman ripple with electric connection to the men they loved.
She understood that connection now, better than ever before. And she also mourned it more. No matter what Isabel said or what Phoebe wanted, her situation with Kit could only be a temporary one for them both. He would never feel for her the way these men felt for their wives.
And she didn’t want him to. Only that was a lie.
The duchesses stepped away to their husbands, and now the small group of them all stared at her.
“You look a vision,” Matthew said gently.
“It is all Katherine’s dress, I assure you,” Sarah said with a blush as she darted her gaze away.
“I think the world would beg to differ,” Simon said. “Now, shall we enter? Who goes first in these situations? I can never recall when we’re forced to be proper.”
“Distance to the throne, I believe,” Graham said. “So Matthew, me and then you.”
“I think you made that up so that we would go last,” Simon said with a teasing glare for Graham.
“You two,” Matthew chuckled, then led Isabel into the ballroom. Sarah heard them announced and her heart leapt to her throat. She hadn’t thought about the announcement. How would Barrymore, who knew her from below stairs, react to her? What would he say?
Her heart thudded as the next couple entered. Then Simon and Meg were all that was left between her and the room of buzzing, judging people who she had once strode to make her peers. Who all knew, she was certain, that she had gone into service for Kit. They would whisper.
“The Duke and Duchesses of Crestwood,” Barrymore intoned as Simon and Meg stepped into the room. When Sarah stepped up, Barrymore jolted to see her and then glanced down at his notes.
“Er, the Duke of Kingsacre requested I join the party,” she said softly.
“Of
course. Hero of the hour and all that,” Barrymore said.
Sarah worried her lip. Of course that was why, but it certainly burst the princessy bubble she’d allowed herself to float in.
“Miss Sarah Carlton,” he announced, his booming voice interrupting her trailing thoughts.
She caught her breath and stepped into the room. All around her, people turned to look at her. She felt their eyes on her, their judgments, and then none of it mattered. Because she caught sight of Kit across the room.
His expression was surprised, but then his gaze flowed over her from head to toe and his face lit up. It lit up just as the other dukes' faces had done when they saw their wives.
He left behind whoever it was he was talking to before she came into the room and then he was gliding toward her, that gaze never leaving her face. Her heart was throbbing and she fought the urge to fidget as he reached her at last and caught her hand.
“You came,” he murmured.
She nodded. “You asked.”
He arched a brow playfully. “And you refused. But I am glad you changed your mind. You look…stunning, Sarah. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, unable to raise her voice any further when he was looking at her like that. Like she was his. Like he didn’t give a damn if anyone knew it. “Meg and the other duchesses were a great help after they convinced me to take your invitation. Katherine’s gown, Isabel’s jewelry, and Meg’s maid did magic of some kind on my hair.”
He shook his head. “And none of that is why you outshine every other person in this room.”
Her lips parted. “Kit,” she whispered.
He stepped in, and for a moment his expression said he wanted to kiss her. And God, how she wanted that, too, despite standing in the middle of the ballroom. Despite the fact that the world was watching.
He blinked and looked around, as if he had remembered himself. Then he stepped back again. “I will not be dancing tonight, for obvious reasons,” he said. “But I am glad you’re here. I must see to my guests now, though. I think I may have utterly abandoned Lord Middleton and his wife mid-sentence.”
“Of course. Perhaps we’ll have a moment later.”
He squeezed her hand and finally released it. “I can guarantee I will find a moment with you, Sarah.”
He turned and left her, and she watched him go. But when she was alone, she let out a sigh. When Kit was with her, nothing else mattered. But now, standing in the middle of the room, all those eyes flitting over her, she felt a little lost.
Because her place in the world was no longer clear. And she had no idea how to find it.
Chapter Fifteen
Kit forced yet another smile as one of his guests told a story about the late duke. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the tales of his father’s kindness or strength or friendship—he very much did. He also knew they were kindly meant. And yet each word about the man he’d lost felt like a dagger to his heart. But he was not allowed to demonstrate his grief. Men were expected to stiffen their lips and never let it show. He would have to hold it in until he was alone…or with Sarah.
She never judged him for letting that grief flow.
He’d been thinking a great deal about Sarah tonight. It was impossible not to watch her, a goddess in blue, as she glided across the floor, chatted with his friends or sipped her drink along the wall.
As his companion droned on, he found her in the crowd again, but this time his heart sank a fraction. She was standing with Lord Geoffrey, heir to the Earl of Edencross. The man was young, handsome, and he seemed enamored with Sarah at present, if the way he leaned forward to attend to her conversation was any indication.
He frowned just as his companion, Mr. Jonas Kline, said, “Wouldn’t you say, Your Grace?”
He blinked and forced himself to attend. “I’m sorry?”
“I was just saying that you must be thrilled to finally take on the title of Duke of Kingsacre,” he said, his expression one of annoyance. “You’ve been waiting many a year. It must have been difficult as your father dragged out his end.”
Kit’s eyes went wide at the hideous, vulgar implication. But his expression didn’t slow his companion’s awful words. “And now you have all that was his,” he continued with a tipsy chuckle. “Money, lands, even that comely governess. What’s his is now yours, in every sense, eh?”
Kit might have been able to simply dismiss this man in disgust on a normal night. Mark him off as a person he would never interact with again and leave it at that. He’d never been one to have a loud, public altercation, not like some of his friends.
But tonight was not a normal night. It was too close to his father’s death, too close to the near tragedy at the lake days before, too close to the fact that Sarah was smiling at Lord Geoffrey, and it made Kit want to scream. He reached out and caught Mr. Kline by the lapels, yanking him forward.
“What the hell did you just say to me?” he growled right in the bastard’s face.
“I—just—I meant—” Kline stammered.
Before he could finish, before Kit could go too far, Ewan, Hugh and Lucas were suddenly at his side. As Ewan gently put a hand on his, meeting his gaze and telling him everything he needed to hear without words, the other two pulled Kline away.
“Enough, Kit,” Hugh said gently as he glared at Kline.
Kit shook his head and looked around the room. Everyone was staring now. Even the orchestra had stopped playing. Sarah was watching, too, her lips slightly parted as she stepped forward, away from her companion, and just…watched him.
“Get him out of my house,” he muttered, and then turned on his heel and strode across the ballroom and out the door onto the terrace.
He yanked the doors shut behind himself and paced away down the long veranda that stretched all the way along the back of the house. He moved away from the ballroom, past the parlors adjacent, far away toward a darkened corner where he prayed he wouldn’t be found when—not if, when—one of his friends or five of his friends came looking for him. He had no idea what to say when they did.
He stared up at the sky. The moon was only a sliver, providing little light. He was reminded of nights he’d stood out here with his father when he was just a boy, almost the same age as Phoebe was now. His father had taught him constellations on this terrace. Told him the stories that went along with the stars.
He didn’t remember them now, at least not all of them.
“What am I doing?” he asked the night, longing for his father’s voice to answer. To advise. To comfort or to command. Wouldn’t that make life easier?
“It’s a very good question, Your Grace.”
He froze and turned to find someone had indeed followed him out to his hiding place. But it wasn’t a friend, it wasn’t a gawker. It was Sarah.
She shouldn’t have come here. It wasn’t her place to follow Kit from the ballroom as the others buzzed about his attack on his guest. And yet when she saw his face, crumpled with pain, she had no other choice. She needed to go after him, needed to ensure he was well.
She needed that. So did he.
His expression now told her she’d been right. He looked relieved to see her and his shoulders relaxed a fraction as he returned his attention to the sky.
“It’s just…hard,” he said. “Tonight was difficult.”
She stepped up beside him and rested her hands beside his on the stone wall. “Yes, I think I understand. It wasn’t easy for me, either.”
He jerked his face toward hers. “No? When I saw you, you always seemed to be having a good time. Especially with Lord Geoffrey.”
There was a hint of jealousy in his tone, and she wondered at it. Liked it, if truth be told. Even if it was entirely unfounded.
“Lord Geoffrey is a nice enough person, I suppose, but he might be the greatest bore in all the empire.”
To her great joy, Kit chuckled and even more of the tension dissipated from his frame.
“The eligible ladies in Town vying for his attention might disagree.”
She wrinkled her nose. “He talked to me for ten minutes about the difference between Trevithick’s first steam engine and the one he used just last year.”
Kit shifted. “Huh. Well, it is a leap in technology to be certain.”
“I understand the science is fascinating.” She rolled her eyes. “But…ten minutes on every exhaustive detail of the engines, Kit.”
He laughed. “I’d forgotten how pedantic the man could be on those subjects. But you were smiling while he spoke. I never would have guessed you weren’t enjoying yourself.”
“It was a grimace,” she said, and now she couldn’t help but smile genuinely. “Perhaps I’m being unfair. Lord Geoffrey is certainly not the worst company I kept tonight.”
There must have been something telling in her tone, for Kit turned and faced her. “Did something happen? Was someone unkind to you?” When she didn’t answer straight away, his lips thinned. “Tell me.”
His anger, which he normally controlled but had bubbled over twice tonight, showed the tangle of his heart quite clearly. She reached out and caught his hand, joining her fingers with his.
“The duchesses are accepting,” she explained softly. “But there are more than just the duchesses here. And those others know my story.”
“They think they know,” he spat, his tone still laced with frustration that she doubted was entirely about her.
“Whether it’s truth or not, they have something to say when they see me in the middle of your ballroom in a borrowed gown.”
He let out his breath gently. “There were whispers.”
She shrugged, trying not to let the reality of that sting her too greatly. She’d known it would happen. It didn’t make the moments any easier.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the pepper gone from his tone as he looked out over the dark garden.
“It’s not your fault, Kit,” she said, and leaned up to touch his cheek. She turned his face and he looked down into her eyes. Her breath caught at how beautiful he was. How much she cared about his well being.
The Last Duke (The 1797 Club Book 10) Page 14
