An Improper Encounter (The Macalisters Book 3)

by Erica Taylor

  “Because I told you I didn’t care! You place a higher importance on the perceived differences in our statures. Your issues with your birth are your issues; do not project that utter nonsense on me.”

  “I’ve been told before my illegitimacy didn’t matter, and it did in the end,” he stated. “Every part of me screamed to leave his house, to run back to Scotland, back to you. But… Anna was there, with Heath’s child growing inside her, and I couldn’t walk away from them and follow my own selfish desires. Not when they were depending on me. Either I abandoned you or I abandoned them.”

  “You chose them.”

  “Sarah, I barely knew you.” His voice caught in anguish. “The feelings I’d developed in such a short span of time, they didn’t make any sense. Away from you it was like stepping out a dream; lovely in memory but impossible to recreate.”

  “Will, why didn’t you just talk to me? This whole thing could have been avoided.”

  “Could it?” he asked. “Would the outcome have been different? Would you have told me not to marry Anna?”

  Sarah sucked in a shaky breath, regarding him for a long moment before slowly exhaling, shaking her head. “No,” she admitted. “I would have understood your call to duty, but it might have made the past two months easier to bear, knowing you hadn’t abandoned me.”

  “Perhaps,” he replied. “It could also have made it worse. By not contacting you, I’d convinced myself it would be it easier on you. If I was the villain, if I’d abandoned you, you would forget me. You could move on and find your happiness somewhere else.”

  “What were you to do if we ran into each other?” Sarah asked with a tearful scoff. “You are a duke, I’m a marchioness. The haute ton isn’t so overly large we would never cross paths again. What would you have done then? Pretended I didn’t exist?”

  “Probably,” he admitted, and hated himself for saying it. “I’d planned to set the Foxton affairs in order and hire on a permanent solicitor to run the estates while I went back to Scotland. Anna is due to have her child right before the Season begins; we wouldn’t be expected to participate. By the following year we would be gone.”

  “How did you end up here?”

  “There was a storm, and the road was blocked—”

  “No, why are you here?” she asked as she took a steadying breath. “At Bradstone Park. Did you know I was here?”

  William wanted to take her hands in his, but didn’t move towards her, knowing she would only pull further away. “I swear I did not, I didn’t even know what house this was until we’d been admitted entrance. I never asked about the house in London where we parted. I’d sealed our fate when I’d decided to marry Anna. Every happy memory of you I tucked up far away; every detail I could use to find you, to go tumbling back in your arms, I forced myself not to dwell on. I did not know you were here, or we would never have come.”

  “You should have told me you were not returning for me. I thought you might be dead, Will.”

  William paused, swallowing down the lump of emotion in his throat. “I’m sorry, Sarah, I am so terribly sorry I had to make a decision that greatly affected both our lives—either forsake my brother’s child, or hurt you. I can scarcely breathe without you, and now I cannot have you. There was no right decision, no matter what I chose, it was wrong.”

  “I cannot fault you for doing what you thought was right,” Sarah said. “I cannot even hate you for it. But I can hate that you were put in such a position, that such a choice was before you and that this is the result.”

  “I don’t know the right answer to this,” William said. “Please, tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Go away, William,” Sarah said softly, swallowing deeply. “Leave me be. Having you near is more painful than having you far away. Far away, I can pretend you don’t exist, that we . . . never existed. But when you are here . . .” Sarah shook her head, tears falling from her eyes again. “Having you here is a constant reminder of a life that we have been robbed of. I can survive without you, but I cannot begin to heal with you under this roof.”

  William nodded, but he didn’t agree. He did not think he could bear to leave her again, but after the mess he’d made of everything, he was willing to do whatever she wanted of him. Whatever caused her the least amount of pain.

  He stepped towards her, placing a soft kiss against her cheek, her eyelashes dusting against his skin.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he whispered. “I wish things could be different.”

  “Will,” she said, turning her head up towards him, her blue gaze crashing into his. She cupped her hand against his face, and he held back the sigh of contentment that threatened to spill out of him. “Wishing for things to be different won’t change things as they are.” Her eyes dropped to his lips and before he could make sense of what she was doing, she leaned up to him and pressed her lips against his.

  It was a gut-wrenching gentle kiss of goodbye. He knew it, she knew it, but it didn’t stop either one of them from savoring it for a moment longer than they should have.

  Unable to handle the crushing pain of their loss any longer, William broke the kiss, leaving the room without a backward glance.

  Bradstone was waiting for him in the hallway, pacing back and forth. Lady Westcott was nowhere to be seen.

  “Foxton,” Bradstone said to him, his voice firm and full of command, but when William looked at his peer, at Sarah’s younger brother, he did not see anger or disappointment in the eyes that so resembled Sarah’s. In Bradstone, he saw compassion.

  “We will be gone in the morning,” William announced, not wanting to leave Sarah, but knowing they should not stay any longer. He couldn’t handle Sarah’s brother regarding him with such sympathy, couldn’t see any more of Sarah’s tears, couldn’t face further reminders of the damage he had done to them both.

  When he agreed to marry Anna, he knew he was forfeiting a life of his choosing. He was fully prepared to handle that pain and burden, but he never entirely considered how his decision would affect Sarah, or himself for that matter. He pushed her out of his mind, to cope with the pain of losing her, and he convinced himself that it had been an entertaining couple of days, but perhaps they were better off apart. No one marries someone they’ve only known for three days. He persuaded himself that the intense feelings he had felt for her, the remarkable woman with such spirit and strength, was merely lust, and nothing more permanent.

  He might not have broken Sarah with his actions, but his own soul was another matter. What he thought was pain from seeing Sarah so upset, he realized was his own agony, his own torment over losing the life he should have been allowed to live with her as his wife. Seeing her here, feeling the hurt of his abandonment had nearly brought him to his knees.

  He was the worst sort of villain, and the hell his life had become was his penance.

  William realized that leaving the following morning was not possible, as he discovered Anna had come down with a violent fever sometime during the night.

  “As she is in no state to travel, we need to remain here for the time being,” William explained to Bradstone, standing beside his imposing ducal desk.

  “It would appear so,” Bradstone agreed, crossing his arms. “I do not wish your wife to fall more dangerously ill, especially in her delicate condition.”

  The two dukes regarded each other, each knowing their budding friendship at risk. William valued Bradstone as a colleague, a peer. They could not be family, but William didn’t want to lose his friendship.

  Bradstone spoke first, his voice dripping with curiosity. “The events of last night have led me to believe you have a past acquaintance with my sister. Am I mistaken in this?”

  William felt an unnerving need to be as straightforward with Sarah’s brother as possible. “You know you are not.”

  “Would you care to explain your relationship?”

  “I met Sarah last October, after a storm led us to take shelter in the
same inn,” Will began. “She offered me a place in her carriage to allow for a more pleasant and less storm-ridden means of travel. Our association only lasted three days, but in that time, I fell irrevocably in love with her. I was not the duke then, I was merely a surgeon summoned to the bedside of my dying father in London who became utterly enchanted by the lovely widow I met along the way. When we parted, I told her I would come to her after my business with my father was concluded, and I would speak to you about offering for her. That meeting was derailed when I arrived at my father’s house to find my brother—the heir to the title—recently deceased. Anna was my brother’s fiancée. She is carrying his child. Our marriage was to appease a dying man’s request, to honor the promise my brother made but could not fulfill, nothing more. When I met Sarah, I was not married, nor did she tell me who her relations were. When I arrived here to find her as your sister, I was just surprised as she.”

  William sighed as he turned around to face Sarah’s brother, duke to duke. “I love your sister, Bradstone, I am not ashamed to say it, and nothing will change that. But I am married to Anna, and unfortunately nothing can change that either. Had my father’s dying wishes been something else, you and I would have met under very different circumstances and we would have had a very different conversation. Unfortunately, Sarah and I are now on two completely separate paths, no matter how much she or I might wish otherwise.”

  There was a long pause as both men studied the other, recognizing a promising friendship within the other but knowing such a thing was not likely to blossom with Sarah’s presence hanging between them.

  “Have I quite answered your concerns?” William asked.

  Bradstone sighed with exasperation. “Well . . . That is quite a problem. My sister’s happiness is of the utmost importance to me, and it seems this is not meant to be.”

  William nodded. “I am afraid our presence here is causing her undue distress. As soon as Anna is well enough, we will take our leave.”

  Bradstone nodded again. “You are welcome to stay as long as you need, but I agree that your departure might be best. As soon as your wife is able.”

  A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and when Andrew called for the person to enter, both men were surprised to see Sarah enter with a warm smile and clear eyes, and no indication of the tears from the night before.

  “Good morning, your graces,” Sarah said pleasantly, smiling happily at them both.

  William exchanged a glance with Bradstone before both men mumbled a good morning.

  “Might I have a word with Foxton?” Sarah asked her brother. “If you have concluded your business, that is.”

  “Yes,” Bradstone said, stepping from behind his desk. “Of course.”

  “Thank you, Andrew,” Sarah said sweetly.

  Bradstone closed the door to his study with a click and William was faced with the one woman who threatened to derail every ounce of control he possessed.

  Last night she had been a warrior, strong and vibrant in asserting her demands, telling him off for leaving her without a word. The creature standing in the middle of the room, dressed in yet another grey morning gown, hair pulled back into a braid and woven around into a knot, was the epitome of demure respectability. She even had a white cap pinned to her head.

  It had shaken him to see her to distraught the night before, to transition from wrenching sobs to tearful defense was intimidating. Calm Sarah was unnerving. The coolness in her gaze, the crisp blue of her eyes watching him as he fought the urge to shift from foot to foot, reminded him of a long-lost governess, about to deliver a set down for the ages. Whatever she had to say to him this morning, however she wanted to rail at him or berate him, he could handle that. What he could not handle was the indifference settling in her gaze. That tore at his heart more than anything.

  Sarah watched William, saw the uncertainty washing across his face. It was almost endearing that he would worry over her when she was not yelling at him. This part of her, the calm, collected spinster she had become, this was not who she was, but it was who she was forcing herself to be, lest she find herself tumbling into his arms. His gaze lingered on hers, dark lashes contrasted with his golden hair. His height dominated her, but not so much that she felt small in comparison. She felt she was companionably tall in contrast to him, that his height complemented hers, that she could be his partner, his equal.

  Enter Anna and the disaster that was Sarah’s life of love and relationships.

  “I trust you are well after yesterday evening?” she inquired.

  He blinked quickly in surprise. “Aye.”

  “I did not sleep well, I admit,” she continued, pacing across the floor to where a series of chairs were set around a small round table. “Our conversation raised some questions and concerns I would like to address.”

  She decided on the leather sofa with the low back, sitting demurely onto the cushion. Leave it to Andrew to have such a conformable sofa. He probably naps in here.

  “I’m happy to clarify what I can,” William replied.

  “You need to explain this to me,” she began, waving her hands between them. “I need to know what went wrong. From our conversation yesterday evening, there is more to this than I have been made aware of. It was not just sense of duty to your brother that led you down this path. You hinted at it last night, but I need to know, I need to understand that this was not a rejection of me.”

  “You are not to blame in any of this,” William said softly.

  “You suggested last night I was,” Sarah reminded him. “I need to know what made you think you do not deserve me.”

  William sighed. “It’s a rather long story.”

  “I would hope so,” Sarah replied, stepping to the sideboard and pulling out two crystal tumblers, pouring a measure of Andrew’s brandy into each glass. She stepped around the sofas and tables and handed one glass to William. “I also happen to have all day to hear this story. It seems your duchess is in no form to travel so you, it would seem, have all day to tell it. Sit, Will. Tell me what went wrong, when everything seemed so right.”

  William sat, clearly not wanting to tell the story, but also realizing he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

  “There was a girl,” William began, and Sarah glanced up curiously. “One girl who demonstrated at two different times in my life that who I was, my illegitimate birth, was something other people would find offensive. My father certainly bored into me that being a bastard was worse than being a dog, even if one was fortunate enough to have someone who gave me his name. He paraded about in public like he was my natural born father, but in private it was a different story. After my mother died, it became worse. My leaving was mutual, though what sort of man throws a ten-year-old into the street, literally. Heathmont found me wandering the streets, tucked me into a carriage and sent me to Scotland. It didn’t make the insult any better, and the weight of it burdened me from a young age, warping me in ways I cannot explain. My Gordon relations did their best to love me, but I was a difficult, unruly child who did everything I could to live up to my lowborn status. They loved me, but I didn’t make it easy. I grew out of my obstreperousness in my late teens, but I never forgot what I was or that it was a cause for shame. As a result, it became something to hide—to keep from those who were not already aware.” He sighed and ran a hand along the back of his neck.

  “There was a girl I’d known since my arrival in Aberdeen. Jillian Heyers. A childhood friendship bloomed into an affection when we were in our teens. I was William Gordon then, as I was when I met you, having spurned everything related to my father. I was living with my Gordon relatives as their orphaned relation, and no one questioned anything. When I was eighteen I decided to study at Oxford. But Jilly, she wanted to know why I wanted to study in England. She snatched a letter my brother had written me from my satchel one day, and demanded to know why I had a letter from a Lord Heathmont claiming to be my brother. I told her the truth, t
hat I was the bastard result of my mother’s affair while she was married to the Duke of Foxton, and even though I was born legitimate, I was not the duke’s son. She . . . she was furious at my deception. She told me she loved me when I was orphaned William Gordon, but she would not sully herself with a bastard.”

  Sarah bit the inside of her mouth to still her trembling lip, clenched her hands into fists so she would not reach out to him, her nails digging into her palms. William did not need her pity.

  “And the second time?” Sarah prompted.

  William looked out the window and took a long swig of his brandy, the crystal catching the light, a myriad of colors dancing in the strength of the glass.

  “The second was much the same. I went south, to Oxford, as it had become an escape from Jillian. I went as Lord Palmer Hastings, opting to avoid the whole issue of illegitimacy. For the first few months, all was well. No one berated me for being a bastard, or harassed me for being half Scottish. I even made friends. I returned to Scotland for the winter break after the Michaelmas term, but when I returned for the Hilary term, something was different. It seemed my childhood friend, Jilly, had written to a cousin about my illegitimacy, a cousin who was attending Oxford. When we all returned for the term in January, word had spread around the campus as to what I was.

  “Life was rather unpleasant after that. The taunts were less directed at me, and more at the invented indiscretions of my mother. I did the best I could with my studies, kept my head down, and stayed out of trouble as much as possible. I attempted to be invisible; if no one noticed me, then they could not torment me.”

  “What of your friends? No one stood up for you?”

  William didn’t reply, staring into his glass for a long moment. “The only person who stood up for me was my brother. Heath was two years older than I, so he was two years ahead of me in school.”