Sara stared at him again, looking deep into those chocolate brown eyes of his. There was something about his eyes that drew her in. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“You know exactly why.”
“On occasion I have been told that I’m an accomplished coquette,” she flirted with him. “Is that what you mean?”
He laughed heartily at her outrageousness. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”
Sara wondered how it seemed he knew her so well, but she didn’t mind it.
Aunt Paulette came down the stairs from her office just then. “I was wondering where you two girls had gone off to, but now I see that you’ve caught the attention of a handsome gentleman . . .”—she startled—“and you have a puppy!”
Sara then introduced Mara’s mother to Lord Bridgeton and to Boots.
“It’s a wonderful bookshop you have here, Lady Cashelmore,” Lord Bridgeton said.
“Why, thank you very much. I’m quite proud of it, but it was not my accomplishment alone. My sisters and I all worked together to make it what it is today. Even Juliette, Sara’s mother, helped us in spite of being far away.”
“My mother is the least bookish of all the Hamilton sisters,” Sara explained.
“I can sympathize with her,” Lord Bridgeton admitted a bit sheepishly. “I’m not very book-oriented myself.”
Sara couldn’t suppress a smile and shared a conspiratorial glance with him. “Neither am I. I take after my mother in that respect.”
Aunt Paulette shook her head in disbelief at the pair of them. “I’ll never understand that mindset of not loving books.”
Lord Bridgeton added, “Regardless, I must say your store is impressive, Lady Cashelmore. I’ve never seen one to compare with it. And your daughter, Lady Mara, whom I also met the other evening, is quite lovely. She is busy helping my sisters choose some books at the moment.”
“Thank you again, Lord Bridgeton,” Aunt Paulette said. “I know Mara will take good care of them. She’s practically grown up here and I’ve trained her well.”
Aunt Colette and Simon Sinclair arrived at the shop just then.
“We’ve come to see how you’re getting along,” Aunt Colette announced.
“I notice Sara is hard at work, just as I suspected,” Simon said, obviously ready to tease Sara about her learning the family business. He was a handsome young man, who favored his mother with his brown hair and blue eyes.
“Ha, ha,” Sara retorted to her cousin. She and Simon were the same age, so they’d always had a bit of a rivalry between them. Then she confessed with unabashed glee, “I haven’t even made it upstairs yet.”
“I knew it!” Simon declared in triumph. “Didn’t I tell you that Sara wouldn’t get any work done today, Mother?”
Colette laughed in amusement. “You did and I did not disagree with you. Sara is exactly like her mother was!”
Mara returned with the Townsend girls, who excitedly shared the books they had chosen, and yet another round of introductions took place. To Sara the two sisters seemed a little lighter than when they had first entered the shop.
“Well, hasn’t this turned into a festive gathering?” Simon remarked.
Aunt Colette said, “Lord Bridgeton, it’s so lovely to finally meet your sisters. We must welcome them to London properly. Is your mother in town as well?”
He shook his head. “Lady Bridgeton was not feeling well enough to journey with us this time.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. Please give her my regards when you see her.” Aunt Colette continued, “Won’t you and your sisters please join us for dinner at Devon House later this evening? We’re having all of the family over so it may be a little louder than you’re accustomed to, but we would love to have you all there.”
Sara watched Lord Bridgeton glance at his sisters first. They both seemed eager, if also slightly nervous, to accept the invitation. Then his gaze fell on her. For some reason he sought her assent. Sara looked into his brown eyes and smiled warmly. She liked him. It would be nice to have him and his sisters to dinner.
Lord Bridgeton turned to her aunt. “Yes, thank you, Lady Stancliff. That is very kind of you. We’d be honored to join your family for dinner.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Aunt Colette said. “I know Phillip will be happy to have you and your sisters there as well.”
“Thank you again. We look forward to seeing you all this evening,” he said. “But we should be getting along now.”
After their farewells, Lord Bridgeton and his sisters made their purchases and left the store. Aunt Colette and Aunt Paulette looked at Sara intently.
“What is it?” Sara asked, a bit puzzled by their expressions. “Has my face gone green or something?”
“Nothing at all.” Aunt Colette smiled mysteriously. “Sara, why don’t you let Simon take Boots home with him and Paulette and I will show you how to manage the bookshop? We’ll never get any work done with this little dog here.”
“Yes, that’s a wonderful idea, Colette. Let’s go, girls, upstairs,” Aunt Paulette directed them. “You both promised to work with me today. Let’s try and get something done, shall we?”
Giving up, Sara handed Boots to Simon with great reluctance. He looked none too thrilled to be left taking care of a dog.
“You owe me for this,” Simon muttered under his breath with a good-natured smile.
“I know, I know,” Sara said. “And thank you.” She kissed the top of Boots’s head and followed her aunts to the second floor.
As they walked up the stairs together, Mara whispered to Sara, “You and Lord Bridgeton seemed to talk for quite a long time together.”
“He’s easy to talk to,” Sara said, realizing how true her words were.
“What were you talking about?”
“Oddly enough, nothing of importance. I can’t even recall it now really.” But she had flirted with him and it had been fun. Uncle Jeffrey was quite right. She may as well have a good time while she was in London.
“Will he be attending the Wickham ball tomorrow?” Mara asked, as she absently twirled her finger around the ribbon of her bonnet.
“Yes, and he asked me to save a dance for him.” And to her surprise, she found herself looking forward to that dance with the handsome Lord Bridgeton, as well as seeing him at dinner later that evening.
* * *
Lady Evelyn Townsend watched her brother very closely as they rode in the carriage back to their town house after leaving Hamilton’s Book Shoppe. There was something markedly different about him this afternoon. He’d spent a great deal of time speaking with that American girl. His face lit up when he was near her. She had never seen Christopher act that way.
He seemed more alive and happier than she’d ever known him to be before.
And now they were going to have dinner with the American girl’s family. They’d only been in London a day and already they’d gotten an invitation to dine! Evie could hardly wait. But she was also nervous. Although Lady Stancliff and Lady Cashelmore seemed quite friendly, as did Lady Mara, who showed them around the beautiful bookshop, it was all a bit overwhelming. She and Gwyneth were not accustomed to socializing at all.
Evelyn had been a bit in awe of the fashionable and expensively attired Miss Fleming, with her cunning blue-and-white striped jacket with leg o’mutton sleeves and a fetching little bonnet. She seemed so carefree and happy and confident. Evelyn doubted that anything bad had ever happened to Sara Fleming in her entire life. Beautiful, sophisticated, and polished, she was the epitome of glamour and style and Evelyn felt like a little brown country mouse in comparison in her pale lilac dress with a dated pattern.
“They were all so kind to us,” Gwyneth said, her voice quavering a little.
“Why shouldn’t they be kind to us?” Christopher questioned his younger sister. “I’ve been friends with Phillip Sinclair and his brother, Simon, for years.”
“I think what Gwyneth means is that she was touched by their kindness to
us.” Evelyn patted her little sister’s hand in comfort. Gwyneth was quite sensitive and Evelyn was very protective of her. “It’s been so long since we’ve done anything social or even had fun, Kit, and you know that.”
It had been far too long. Evelyn could not recall the last time her parents had entertained at Bridgeton Hall or had accepted an invitation to a party or a ball or even received a visitor. They had lived as veritable recluses and that invariably left Evelyn and Gwyneth alone as well. Once in a while Father would leave on mysterious trips for weeks at a time, for which they were all grateful, but Mother never left the estate. In fact, Mother had become quite irate that she and Gwyneth were leaving with Christopher yesterday.
Mother was so upset at the very idea of them going to London, Evelyn almost wavered in her decision to go. But her brother was determined that she and Gwyneth join him.
In the end the chance to escape won out over Mother’s overdramatic and ultimately powerless wrath. It was much easier to defy her with Father gone. Oh, how Evelyn longed to get away from home more than anything! Just being in London made her feel better, as if she could breathe freely. Yes, even in this smog-filled, dirty city she could breathe better than she could at her home in the country. She was almost giddy with freedom. Being amidst so many people with so much going on filled her with elation. Anything could happen here. She could disappear into a crowd and never return if she chose to. The sights and sounds were music to her ears after the suffocating silence of Bridgeton Hall.
“We shall have a good time at Devon House,” Christopher explained, with a touch more sympathy in his tone. “I’ve known Phillip and Simon Sinclair since we were lads at school and their very large family is quite wonderful.”
“It is not like ours then, is it?” Gwyneth murmured, her sweet face sad.
“Not like ours at all,” Christopher added vehemently.
Again Evelyn watched her brother carefully, as the carriage jounced over the bumpy road. “I think you’re smitten with Miss Fleming.”
He laughed, but it rang a little hollow. “Even if that statement were true, Evie, and I assure you that it is not, it would be a futile pursuit. She is in love with someone else and I must marry a girl with money, remember? It’s the reason we are in London.”
Evelyn grew silent. He was right on that score. Even though she wished it wasn’t true. Their family financial situation was probably more perilous than Christopher wanted her to believe.
“I’m nervous,” Gwyneth murmured again. “They’re all so much grander than we are.”
“Nonsense,” Christopher said in a tone so firm that it surprised Evelyn. His brows furrowed and he frowned. “Gwyneth, you and Evelyn are both just as good as any of them. You are ladies and born to the nobility. You are the daughters of an earl, from a long and distinguished family. You are their equals. Don’t let anyone make you feel inferior. Ever.”
No, that had been their father’s job and he had done it quite well at that. Evelyn had been made to feel inferior her entire life. She was never good enough, or pretty enough, or smart enough to please her father. Or her mother. And they punished her for it regularly.
When she was eight years old Father had taken it into his head that she was too plump. In his eyes, it was unseemly for a Townsend girl to be overweight. So he had ordered that her diet be restricted and no sweets were allowed to be consumed at all. Barely surviving on the tiny portions she was allotted each day, Evelyn was so hungry that she would often sneak into the kitchen at night to steal food, anything she could get her hands on. When she was caught, her father locked her in her room each night at bedtime and only let her out in the morning when he deemed fit. And as further punishment, during mealtimes in the nursery, she was forced to stand with her hands bound behind her back and watch while her brother and sister ate whatever they wanted. That routine continued for months, until Evelyn had lost enough weight to satisfy even her father.
There was the time Mother, in a fit of rage over something she and Gwyneth had done to displease her, such as accidentally waking her when she was trying to sleep in the middle of the afternoon, chopped off all of their hair. The two of them looked like sad little boys, which enraged Father, who was disgusted by the sight of them. Instead of being angry with his wife for butchering their hair, he whipped his two daughters soundly with a strap and ordered that they not be seen by him until their hair grew back. Which actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
For a few precious months, she and Gwyneth lived peacefully, not bothered by their father. There, in the relative safety of the nursery, they escaped by reading books. The worlds within the written pages were far more hospitable and enjoyable than the world they lived in.
But that was only a fraction of the abuses and indignities imposed upon Evelyn and her sister by James Townsend over the years. Evelyn shuddered at the horrific memories. Things were only a little better when Christopher would come home from school for he always tried his best to protect them.
She shook her head as she gazed out the small carriage window, watching the busy streets pass by, wondering at the lives of all the people. Wondering if they endured abuses as she had. It was a miracle that the three of them survived their childhood. But her brother was quite right. No one would ever make Evelyn Townsend feel inferior or worthless again. No matter what happened.
8
Low Tide
Alexander Drake crumpled the letter in his hand. He should have known. He should have guessed. He felt like the world’s biggest fool.
They had taken her to London of all places!
He wouldn’t have suspected they would have gone somewhere so ordinary. He imagined that her spiteful parents would have spirited her away to some far-flung place in the Pacific to keep her from him. Or left on another one of their around-the-world voyages, which was what he suspected from the start. Yet he should have known all along. London. Of course.
The mother had family in England. He’d completely forgotten about that.
The Flemings had outmaneuvered him. Most assuredly. They had delivered him a devastating blow. And a costly one at that. But they hadn’t won yet. No. Not by a long shot. There was far too much money on the line to give up. Not now. Not when things had been falling perfectly into place.
He’d just about given up hope that he would hear from her. He thought all was lost and everything he’d planned so carefully was for nothing. A few weeks ago he called for Sara at their grand house on Fifth Avenue, only to find it shuttered and dark. The snide butler looked down his nose at Alexander and refused to tell him where the Fleming family had gone. Even the young housemaid he paid weekly to give him information about Sara had no idea what had happened or why the family had left. It was as if they had vanished into thin air.
And just like that all his plans had been for naught.
But Alexander knew exactly why the Flemings had left and it infuriated him.
His entire life he’d had to scrape and claw to get anything he wanted. Nothing ever came easily for him. Growing up on a farm in New Jersey with his churchgoing parents and his seven brothers and sisters, was not the life for him. He wanted more out of life than growing corn and marrying the girls from the neighboring farms, like his brothers did. Luckily, Alexander was very smart and his parents had sold their finest horses to send him to Columbia College, believing he needed an education if he wanted to make a better life for himself. It was the only thing he and his parents ever agreed on.
Once he left, he never returned to the farm again. Never saw his parents or his siblings again. He was determined to do more with his life.
While at Columbia he became friends with a few of the wealthier students and was introduced to some of the finer things. It was where Alexander acquired his expensive tastes and experienced a little of the life he knew he was meant to live. It was at school where he also learned to deeply resent these young men, who had everything handed to them on a silver platter simply because their fathers had mon
ey. Oh, they were all nice enough to his face, but he knew they looked down on him because he was not one of them.
Alexander had come from nothing and had nothing, while these boys had everything he desired. Fine clothes, expensive champagne, racehorses, and grand mansions. With his charm and good looks, Alexander began to lie and put up a façade of gentility and money in order to get invitations to the best houses.
The first time he stole from them was while at the home of a school friend at his Fifth Avenue mansion. It had been ridiculously easy too. Alexander pocketed an emerald brooch, which paid for the rest of his law school tuition, a nicer apartment, and a fine new wardrobe. As far as he knew, the woman was never even aware the emerald brooch was gone. It became easier and easier each time he took something valuable, while it gave him a perverse sense of pleasure to steal from people who pretended to be his friends.
Why should some people have so much while he had to struggle for so little? It wasn’t fair. To his way of thinking, he was simply making things more equitable between them and him.
When Alexander realized he would never get the kind of money he wanted on his own, he was despondent. It would take him years to become a successful lawyer and make the money necessary to have the things he wanted right now, and even that wasn’t guaranteed. No. He needed to gain it another way. Quickly. He needed to marry into one of those families with money. But those wealthy families would never allow their precious daughters to marry the likes of him, no matter how charming and handsome and educated he was.
That was when he heard about Captain Harrison Fleming and his million-dollar shipping empire. And his lovely young daughter, who would inherit all of it. The captain wasn’t blue-blooded himself either. He came from less than nothing and therefore couldn’t possibly look down on Alexander.
Alexander had had a decent chance to win Sara Fleming. And he’d done it too! The girl had fallen head over heels in love with him.
He felt the crumpled letter from Sara in his hand and grinned thinking of her words.
The Heiress He's Been Waiting For Page 8
