Gladys and Amanda startled as if Sarah had said she didn’t eat or breathe.
“You aren’t a Methodist, are you?” Lady Gladys asked.
“No. I don’t object to dancing, I just never learned how. I’ve never been to a ball, and I’ve never had a suitor.” Surely now these ladies would see how far removed plain Miss Hamilton was from the glittering world of the Duke of Alvord. “My only friends were the two spinster ladies who lived next door.”
“My dear,” Lady Gladys said, “how dreadful! It sounds to me as if you’ve been in mourning your entire life.”
“Indeed.” Lady Amanda could not have looked more shocked. “No balls, no young men! How very dreary.”
Lady Gladys smiled. “Even if you weren’t going to marry James—and maybe you aren’t,” she said as Sarah started to protest, “you deserve some fun in your life, dear. I suggest you take this as an opportunity to live a little. Enjoy yourself. Dress up. Dance. Flirt. I’m confident James can present himself in a credible enough fashion to win your regard.”
Sarah looked at the two older women who were watching her so expectantly. For some reason, she did not want to disappoint them—and, if she were completely honest, she didn’t want to disappoint herself. The thought of Miss Sarah Hamilton, a lowly teacher at the Abington Academy for Young Ladies and the daughter of a penniless republican, attending such glittering events was dazzling.
“All right.”
“Splendid.” Both ladies beamed at her. Then Lady Gladys glanced out the window.
“Ah, we’re home!”
Sarah leaned forward so she could see where James lived. Her jaw dropped. She was looking at a medieval castle.
“That’s your home?”
“Yes. The first Duke of Alvord fought with William the Conqueror,” Lady Gladys said. “He built the original castle. Subsequent dukes have added on and remodeled the place, filled in part of the moat, extended the grounds and gardens, and built on a terrace in the back. It’s very comfortable now, not drafty or damp at all.”
The castle was situated on a lake, surrounded by rolling, forested hillsides and meadows. Sarah stared at the gray stone edifice, the crenellated turrets, and the drawbridge. This was where James lived? She had taken Richard’s words literally when he had said James was opening his “little” home to her.
“Quite an impressive sight, is it not?” Lady Amanda sounded smug. “Alvord Castle has over twenty bedrooms. The grounds cover five-hundred acres.”
“Oh, Amanda, stop it.” Lady Gladys laughed. “You sound like a penny guidebook.”
“I’m sure Sarah has never seen such a stately residence before, Gladys.”
“And how kind of you to point it out. Pray, excuse Amanda, Sarah. It must be a touch of the gout that has her out of spirits.”
“Gout! You know I do not suffer from gout, Gladys.”
The carriage rattled over the drawbridge, under the portcullis, and up a circular drive. It stopped in front of a pair of huge wooden doors. A footman came up to let down the carriage steps. James was right behind him.
“We had a nice visit with your Sarah, James,” Lady Gladys said as she allowed James to hand her down the steps.
“Yes,” Lady Amanda said, following behind Gladys. “Now if you will just do your part, we can welcome a new bride to Alvord. It’s about time you looked to the succession, you know.”
“Yes, Lady Amanda,” James said meekly. He grinned at Sarah as the other women went inside. “I see you have charmed the ladies. I think they like you.”
Sarah wrinkled her nose at him. “I think they want to get you married and I’m the likeliest candidate they’ve seen recently.”
James laughed. “Perhaps.” He kept her hand as she stepped onto the gravel drive. “Welcome to Alvord, Sarah. I do hope you will feel at home here.”
“It’s a little overwhelming.” That was an understatement. She surveyed the large building before her. Lady Amanda was right. She certainly had never seen anything like this in Philadelphia.
“It is a bit of a barn, but I won’t let you get lost in it.”
“James!” A girl with James’s sun-streaked hair appeared just inside the huge wooden doors. She launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back.
“Lizzie, I was only gone overnight.” He shook his head half in amusement, half in exasperation.
“But you are never gone, James. Not without telling us. You are so reliable that we were sure something must have happened. A highwayman or…or something.”
“Lizzie, there are no highwaymen in Kent.” He looked at Sarah. “As you can see, I am sadly domesticated. I cannot have a single night of carousing without my womenfolk setting up a hue and cry.” He turned the girl to face Sarah. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed already, this is my scapegrace sister, Lizzie. Lizzie, let me make known to you Miss Sarah Hamilton of Philadelphia.”
“How do you do, Lizzie?” Sarah smiled. Lizzie reminded her of many of her older students at the Abington Academy for Young Ladies. At seventeen, she was on the brink of adulthood. Not yet a woman, but no longer a child, she was a volatile mix of poise and exuberance.
“Welcome, Miss Hamilton. I don’t believe I’ve met someone from the colonies before.”
“Lizzie, I think Sarah would prefer that you refer to her homeland as the United States. The colonies won their independence a few years ago, you know,” James teased. “At least I hope you know. I’d hate to think I’ve wasted vast sums of money on your governess.”
Lizzie frowned and flushed slightly. “I didn’t mean any offense, Miss Hamilton.”
“No indeed. And you must call me Sarah. I confess that this is my first journey outside Philadelphia, so perhaps you can help me get adjusted to England. I’ve already told your brother that I find English titles very confusing.”
“And vexing,” James put in. Sarah smiled.
“I shall try to conform, no matter how much it goes against the grain, my grace.”
Lizzie giggled. “It’s your grace.”
“What’s your grace?” Sarah asked.
Lizzie laughed harder. “Who’s ‘your grace.’ James. He’s ‘your grace.’”
Sarah felt even more mystified. “Isn’t that what I said?”
James laughed. “What my sister is trying to say, Sarah, is that the proper form of address for a duke is ‘your grace,’ not ‘my grace.’”
“Why? Didn’t you tell me I could call you ‘my grace’?” Sarah thought back over that conversation and blushed. Perhaps that wasn’t quite what James had meant. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I’m supposed to say ‘my lord,’ aren’t I?”
James nodded.
“So why not ‘my grace’?”
“You wouldn’t address the king as ‘my majesty,’ Sarah,” Lizzie said, “but as ‘your majesty.’”
“I address God as ‘my God.’ Is a king or a duke of higher rank than the Almighty?”
“Some would like to think so,” James said, chuckling. He put up a hand as Sarah drew breath to argue. “But, I hasten to add I am not among their number, so you can lower your republican hackles. Now, shall we go in and get you settled?” He took her arm and started walking toward the door.
“Is Sarah staying with us, James? I don’t see her bags.”
“That’s because they are, unfortunately, at the bottom of Liverpool harbor. But yes, she’s staying here and going up to London with us for the Season.”
Lizzie looked surprised, but was obviously too well-bred to ask more questions. Sarah did not want to go into all the details, but she thought some explanation was warranted.
“Your brother is helping me out of a predicament, Lizzie. When my father died in December, he insisted that I come to England. We didn’t know that his brother had also died, and that Robbie was the new Lord Westbrooke. Since I can’t stay with Robbie, your brother has graciously offered to let me stay here.”
“He has?” Liz
zie grinned, looking even more like her brother. “Well, I’m glad. It will be fun to have you here.” She glanced back at James. “You never said what you were doing at the Green Man, James. Were you carousing?”
“No, I was not! And even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” He nodded at the very proper, very elderly butler standing just inside the front door. “You weren’t worried about me, too, were you, Layton?”
“Of course not, your grace.” Layton bowed slightly. He had a thick mane of white hair and a very imposing nose. Sarah thought he looked much more like a duke than James did. “I tried to reassure the ladies, but Lady Gladys will worry.”
James shook his head. “I should have given them more reason to worry when I was younger.”
“I believe the ladies would say you gave them plenty of reason to worry when you were fighting Napoleon, your grace.”
They stepped into a cavernous entrance hall where a short, plump woman waited for them. The brown hair beneath her cap was liberally streaked with gray.
“Ah, Mrs. Stallings, we have a guest. Will you show Miss Hamilton to the blue bedroom?”
“Certainly, your grace. If you will come with me, Miss Hamilton?”
“And I’ll help you settle in, shall I?” Lizzie said, linking arms with Sarah.
James frowned. “Sarah might like some time alone, Lizzie.”
“I won’t be any trouble. You don’t mind, do you, Sarah? I’d like to get acquainted.”
Sarah looked at the younger girl. Lizzie was smiling hopefully back at her. It was an odd but welcome feeling to have her company sought. None of her students, even those close to her in age, had ever attempted to bridge the gulf between them. She was not sure she would have let them if they had tried. She had been too afraid of losing her authority.
“No, I don’t mind.”
“Don’t be a pest, Lizzie,” James called after them as they followed Mrs. Stallings’s solid form up the stairs.
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Really,” she whispered to Sarah, “sometimes James seems to think I’m still ten years old.”
Sarah laughed. “I noticed. I envy you. I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
“Here we are, Miss Hamilton.” Mrs. Stallings opened a door and led the way into a lovely bedroom.
“It’s beautiful.” There was a note of awe in Sarah’s voice.
The room was at least four times the size of her room in Philadelphia. The walls were covered in pale blue fabric, and darker blue swagged curtains and blue-cushioned seats framed the large windows that flooded the space with light. A delicate blue lacquer desk and chair stood off to her left while two upholstered chairs were grouped by the fire. A thick carpet, a geometric pattern of blues and gold, covered most of the floor.
Sarah felt like an imposter. This room was far too grand for her, but then James’s servants’ rooms were likely more spacious than her small bedroom at home.
“I’ll just send Thomas up with your things, miss,” Mrs. Stallings said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Stallings, but I’m afraid I haven’t got any things.” Sarah smiled slightly. “My trunk went overboard in Liverpool. All I have is this sorry dress on my back. But if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would dearly love a bath.”
“You poor thing! I’ll have the water sent up directly.” Mrs. Stallings surveyed Sarah’s dress. “Shall I see if I can freshen your frock while you bathe?”
Sarah grimaced. “I’m afraid it would require a miracle to do anything with this dress.”
“Hmm.” Lizzie looked Sarah over carefully as Mrs. Stallings left. “You’re about my size. There might be something in my closet that you can wear.”
“Lizzie, I couldn’t borrow one of your gowns.”
“Why not? Do you like the dress you’re wearing?”
Sarah laughed. “No, it’s dreadful. It was never stylish, but after having worn it for four days straight now, I truly loathe it.”
“I should think so. My green silk should suit. My maid, Betty, can make any alterations that are needed. She’s very good with a needle.”
Sarah was tempted. She felt so drab, like a weed in a rose garden. Just this once she wanted to be a butterfly, or as close to a butterfly as a tall, red-haired spinster could be. She just wanted to match her surroundings. It had nothing to do with a certain handsome duke.
“Well, if you are sure you can truly spare the dress, I would be delighted to accept.”
“Good. And you must know that you can’t get by with only one dress—I am not counting that object you have on. We’ll need to have Mrs. Croft in—she’s the village dressmaker.”
“Lizzie! I admit I will need some new dresses, but I assure you I can’t afford a whole new wardrobe.” I can’t even afford one new dress, Sarah thought unhappily.
Lizzie shrugged. “James will pay for it.”
“He will not. That would be terribly inappropriate.”
“I don’t see why. He has piles of money.”
“It’s just not done, not in the United States or in England.”
“But you need new clothes,” Lizzie said reasonably. “Someone will have to pay for them.”
“Well, it won’t be your brother! He is not related to me.”
Lizzie grinned. “But Robbie is! He can foot the bill.”
The servants arrived then with the tub and water.
“I’ll be back when you’re done with your bath,” Lizzie said, slipping out the door after the footmen.
Sarah looked at the closed door. Then she sighed, shed the despised dress, and climbed into the tub. She sank into the warm water and closed her eyes.
What was she going to do about her clothing? Lizzie was right—she would need some new things. It did not seem right to burden Robbie with the expense. He certainly hadn’t asked her to show up almost on his doorstep. And she certainly could not let James buy them for her. The thought was shocking—and strangely seductive. A man bought clothes for his wife, but she could never be his wife. If she had entertained that possibility even for a moment, she was forced to discard it now. She did not know the first thing about managing a place the size of Alvord. Making her mistress here would be ludicrous, as ridiculous as putting the butcher’s boy in President Madison’s office. It just could not be done.
She rested her head against the back of the tub. Had her father known such wealth? He had been the son of an earl, after all. Yet he had given no sign of having been raised in privilege.
Of course, he had never been terribly interested in things. Ideas, theories, arguments—those were what he coveted. Even people held little interest for him. The first time she could remember her father showing any real concern for her was when he had insisted she come to England. She certainly had never felt from him the warmth that was evident between James and his sister or James and his aunt.
She sighed. She would love to be part of a family like James’s. He had offered her that if she married him. Did he know how tempting that was?
She grabbed the soap and scrubbed her arms. A tempting illusion. James did not love her. He was a British duke. He didn’t need a wife, he needed a brood mare. A marriage with him would make a family in name only.
She would get a job. She would be fine. She didn’t need much. She did not need any broad, strong shoulders in her life. She shook her head to get the picture of those shoulders out of her mind. The Duke of Alvord must be a rake of the worst sort. A thoughtless heartbreaker. After all, she had found him naked in her bed, hadn’t she? No, she was definitely better off by herself.
She didn’t need to wash her face. For some stupid reason, it was already wet.
Chapter 4
Sarah hung back to let Lizzie enter the drawing room first. Her heart was beating so fast she feared it might leap out of the low neck of her beautiful dress.
She had been struck dumb when she had looked at herself in the mirror upstairs. The woman looking back at her was a stranger. The green dress made her eyes glow. Betty had tamed her hai
r so that only a few tendrils drifted gracefully around her face. Rather more of her neck and chest was exposed than she was used to, but Lizzie and Betty had both insisted that such was the fashion. Upstairs in her room, Sarah had felt elegant. Now she felt awkward.
“Come on, Sarah. You can’t stay out in the hall all evening.” Lizzie grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room. “James, I’ve given Sarah one of my dresses. I think it looks quite good, don’t you?”
Sarah thought she might expire on the spot. James’s eyes traveled carefully over her dress. She grabbed her skirt to keep her hands from flashing up to cover her bodice. He spent an inordinate amount of time studying that aspect of her attire.
“Beautiful,” he said, looking directly into Sarah’s eyes and smiling. She smiled back, feeling an odd mixture of relief and tension.
In deference to her limited wardrobe, James had not dressed for dinner. Of course, Sarah thought as she accepted a glass of sherry, the Duke of Alvord could be dressed in rags and still be imposing. Or dressed in nothing. She blushed and glanced at him. The corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes acquired a distinctly knowing gleam.
This will never do, Sarah chastised herself. She raised her chin and willed her voice to remain cool. “You have a beautiful home, your grace.”
“Thank you. Did Lady Amanda give you the history lesson when you arrived?”
Lady Amanda sniffed. “Gladys was the one who mentioned that the first Duke of Alvord fought with the Conqueror. She may have neglected to point out, however, that it was his distinguished service at the Battle of Hastings that earned him the duchy.”
“No one distinguishes himself in battle, Lady Amanda.” James said, a new, harsh note in his voice. “War is an ugly, messy business. I’m certain my illustrious ancestor caused untold suffering to the poor wretches he evicted from these lands.”
Lady Amanda frowned. “If I remember correctly, it was not so very long ago that you were anxious to go to war.”
“I know better now.” James took a large swallow of his sherry.
“But don’t you agree that sometimes war is warranted, your grace? To free people from oppression, for example?” Sarah could remember her father and his cronies holding forth about that for hours.
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