Finding Hope (Mail Order Bride: Brides And Promises Book 1)

by Ruby Hill

  Sarah let out a long breath. It was a precarious situation, for what parent did not want to protect their children?

  “It is a very significant sum this blackmailer is requesting?” she asked timidly, not wishing to suggest that the duke was somehow failing his children by not doing as he was bid.

  “Miss Brown, it would ruin me,” he replied, his eyes back on hers. “Even if I did as he asked, what is to prevent him from coming back, again and again, with more requests? If I give in now, there is no guarantee it will end. The only thing I have been able to do is hire some men to watch the grounds to protect my children.”

  Sarah rose to her feet and began pacing, her mind whirling with this new information. Now she could understand why the duke needed aid, but alas, she had no suggestions about the way forward. She watched the duke pour himself another whiskey and felt herself grow tense. Whenever her father drank, it would turn him into the violent man who enjoyed causing her pain. With every fiber of her being, she hoped the duke would not follow suit.

  “What am I to do, Miss Brown? What am I to do?” His voice rising, the duke came nearer to her, unaware of her growing concern. “They are threatening my children and, no matter what choice I make, it seems they are going to be in the crossfire.” He took another gulp of the fiery liquid, walking ever closer. “There is no way out!” Raising his arm, he threw the glass in the fire with a roar, watching it shatter into a million pieces. Only then did he register the cry that came from Sarah and how she had raised her arms as though to defend herself.

  “Oh, my dear!” Reaching for her, he rocked her shaking form, baffled by her reaction. “I would never harm you, Miss Brown, never once have I raised my hand to a woman. It was merely my frustrations getting the better of me.” He continued to hold her in a strong embrace, as the memory of her bruised body flooded his mind. Was this the reason for her terror?

  Sarah couldn’t stop herself from shaking. The whiskey in his hand, followed by his thunderous voice had brought back memories of her father’s heavy hand. Without a doubt, she had reacted to defend herself, thinking she was now to be the brunt of the duke’s anger. How humiliated she was.

  “I apologize, Your Grace,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I do not know what came over me.”

  The duke eased her back and looked her straight in the eye. “Sarah, I think you do know, and one day, I hope you will trust me enough to tell me the truth. I see a fear in your eyes that has long been resident within you. Whatever you are afraid of; you will not find me a violent man. I would never harm you.”

  Sarah gave a slight nod, dropping her eyes to the floor as she became aware that he had used her given name. The way he said it brought warmth to her very soul; it had been so long since her name had been spoken with kindness. The duke had not dropped his embrace, holding her lightly around the waist while the fire cast a warm glow around them.

  Oliver’s senses were reeling. She fitted perfectly into his arms, her trembling slowly subsiding as he held her. He took in her lips, her eyes, and her hair and fleetingly wondered what it would look like unbound. Almost unwillingly, he reached and pulled a single pin from her hair, a short curl falling across her face. He rubbed it between his finger and thumb, marveling at its softness as she watched him with wide eyes.

  “I suppose,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That you may call me Oliver, but only when we are in private.” He swallowed hard, trying to rein in his desire. Sarah licked her lips, tormenting him further.

  “Yes, Your Grace, I mean, Oliver.”

  Sarah allowed her hands to rest on Oliver’s chest, feeling the strength of his body and the warmth of his skin through his shirt. Her mind was scolding her, reminding her of how much she could lose should she allow further intimacies, but she did not care. The duke was a kind man, and it was little wonder she felt drawn to him. His dark eyes drew her in, and she touched his hair as she had longed to earlier that day. She heard his sharp intake of breath, marveling at his reaction to her touch, feeling his hands roving over the small of her back.

  “Oliver, I think-”

  A knock at the door startled them, throwing them apart as they leapt away from each other. The spell was broken, the magic gone. Hastily pinning her hair, Sarah glanced at the duke, blushing crimson as she saw his eyes still on her. Oliver cursed his own weakness, watching her still. He was drawn to the woman like a magnet to metal; not only his body but his heart responded to her. With a soft curse, he finally allowed the butler entry, who displayed no reaction whatsoever on finding the master and the governess ensconced together.

  “Your Grace, there is a matter that requires your attention. A man has been spotted in the grounds, skulking around the windows and doors.”

  “Indeed!” Oliver was already walking towards the door, purposeful once again. “Perhaps this mystery will be solved quickly after all. Gather some of the servants and let us search the grounds.”

  Without even a backward glance at Sarah, the duke left the library, leaving her feeling both bereft and confused.

  6

  Oliver was frustrated, pacing around the library. A few days had passed since the intruder had been spotted, but the man had not been found, and there had been no trace of him since. He had barely seen Sarah either; she always left the nursery or the schoolroom as soon as he entered, citing some forgotten book or some such nonsense. She was avoiding him, and he could not blame her. He had behaved like a complete cad, taking liberties that were inexcusable.

  She had not given him leave to use her name, yet he had the audacity to ask her to use his. Not that she had refused, he thought suddenly, pausing in his steps. Did that mean something? Whilst she was a handsome woman, she was a gentle, caring and loving one at that. This was more than a base attraction; this went much deeper, piercing his heart. Oliver was stunned at his realization. He cared deeply for Miss Brown, more than he had ever cared for any woman.

  His late wife had hated him almost from the moment they married, making no secret of it to either himself or the staff. Once the twins arrived, he had hoped a love for them might change her but, to his sadness, it had made her worse. He had never loved a woman before and did not know what it was supposed to feel like. Was this the beginnings of love?

  He ran his hands through his hair, suddenly aware of the choices that lay before him. If he married Miss Brown, there would be an outcry amongst his peers, shocked that he would debase himself by marrying someone from the lower classes — not that he cared. His mother would be bewildered, certainly, but he was sure she would come to love Sarah in time. Without a doubt, the twins adored her, and he could ask for no better mother for them. The only question that remained was whether she would accept him or not. He must find out the depths of her feelings as well as confessing his own. Pouring himself a whiskey, he slumped into the overstuffed chair in front of the fire. He had a lot of thinking to do.

  * * *

  Sarah could not sleep. The wind whistled around her window, trying to get in through any cracks or holes it could find but, thankfully, it was not succeeding. The rain was torrential, and she was sure she heard thunder in the distance and she rather enjoyed a good thunderstorm.

  Rising from her bed, she pulled back the heavy drapes, with the expectation that, should lightning come, she would be able to spot it. She hoped the children would not be afraid, although they had a nurse with them should they wake. They certainly had stolen her heart.

  The days she spent with the children were filled with laughter and smiles as she grew in her affection for them. They would grow to be respectful and loving adults; she was sure of it. Smiling at the thought, she moved from the window to the single wooden chair in front of the warm fire, pulling her heavy woolen shawl over her shoulders for additional warmth.

  Staring into the flames, she considered the last few days. She was embarrassed every time she was in the duke’s presence, remembering their embrace. Her feelings for him went further than just an appreciation of
his physical features. He was a mild but commanding man and she trusted him wholeheartedly. She knew he would never hurt her or treat her like her father had. If he did take a drink, he stopped before he was lost to its influence.

  He trusted her enough to tell her of the mysterious and threatening letters, knowing how much she loved his children. He sought her advice; he cared about what she had to say. Her heart broke a little as she remembered her untruthfulness in the face of his honesty. She had not been seeking a new charge; she was not even a governess. The letters of recommendation were forgeries, even her name was a fabrication, but how could she tell him now? Closing her eyes, she felt a tear run down her cheek, hoping her unspoken words would be a prayer enough.

  A sudden noise startled her as she lifted her head. Wiping her tears, she looked around the room, uncertain as to where it had come from.

  “Hello?”

  Suddenly, lightning flashed and spotted the figure of a man holding onto her window, silhouetted in the bright light. Sarah screamed aloud, only for him to disappear again into the shadow as the light faded. Shaking, Sarah backed towards the door, never taking her eyes from the window as she unlocked the door and left the room as fast as she could manage. Making her way, as best she could, through the dark hallway, she shrieked again as she bumped into — and was held by — a pair of strong arms.

  “Sarah? Sarah!”

  Sarah, recognizing the duke’s voice, collapsed against his chest, sobbing profusely as he held her in the dark. The butler, disheveled from sleep, appeared, apologizing for his lack of proper dress but Oliver halted him immediately, gratefully accepting the single candle.

  “Let us go back to the library. Sarah, you must tell me what the matter is. Can you do that?”

  Nodding, Sarah stumbled along beside the duke, her steps faltering as her body and mind gave into the shock. Soon she found herself seated gently into a chair and a glass of whiskey pushed into her hands.

  “Take a sip, love, just one sip. It will help.”

  Revolted by the smell and the reminder of her father, Sarah refused, handing it back to Oliver with shaking hands. She could do this without the aid of alcohol.

  “There was a man, a man looking in my window,” she managed, finally. “Oliver, he was looking straight at me.” Her eyes looked up at him, huge and frightened.

  “It is all right, you are safe with me now,” the duke replied gently. “Stay for a moment; I must speak to the staff.”

  Still shaking, Sarah nodded, closing her eyes tightly as she tried to block out the memory. She could hear the duke murmuring to the butler and heard the door click shut as he left, with the duke returning instantly to her side.

  “Sarah, can you look at me?”

  Taking a deep breath, Sarah opened her eyes and found the duke’s face close to her own, his presence a reassurance and a comfort.

  “I am well, your Grace.”

  “Your Grace?” Oliver’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “A moment ago you called me ‘Oliver’ and now it is back to ‘Your Grace’?” He smiled at her gently. “I have given you leave to call me by my given name; we are friends now, are we not?”

  Sarah nodded, her heart racing as she drank in his words. He said they were friends; it was foolish to wish for more.

  “Now,” Oliver began, dropping her hands and sitting opposite her. “Can you tell me what happened? I know it must have been a dreadful experience, but any details you can give me will be helpful.”

  “There is not much to tell,” she confessed. “I was sitting by the fire as I could not sleep-”

  “With your drapes open?” Oliver interrupted.

  “Yes, yes, I enjoy watching the thunderstorms.”

  “Indeed!” Oliver smiled. “Most women I know would have had an attack of the vapors over such a terrifying prospect.”

  Sarah smiled a little tremulously. “Nevertheless, I enjoy such an amazing spectacle. The drapes were open, and I heard a noise, like a scratching and then a thump. I could not see where it had come from until the lighting flashed, and I saw... I saw a man up against my window.” She drew in a shaky breath, trying not to become hysterical once again.

  At that moment, there was a knock on the door and, with a word from the duke, the butler walked in, a little wet from roaming outdoors.

  “We have found a ladder, your Grace. It was up against the side of the house; the man must have climbed up to look in Miss Brown’s window.”

  “But why?” Sarah asked, beginning to shake once more. “Why would he come to my window?”

  Suddenly, it hit her. She had been so busy enjoying her life here with Oliver and the children that her father and her life of torment had become some distant memory. She had not considered him at all, and the thought that he would be searching for her had not once crossed her mind. What a fool she was. Her father had the means and the resources to find her, should he put his mind to it. It had been ridiculous to hope that he would not have cared about her flight, nor that he would have done nothing to find her. She was the target of all his aggression, and without her around, he would have nobody to take out his anger on. Her sudden realization must have shown on her face as Oliver quickly sent the butler away with orders to continue searching the grounds. Crouching down in front of her, he again took her hands in his, searching her face.

  “Did you remember something else?

  Sarah began to cry, knowing this was the end. This was the end of their friendship and, most probably, the end of her employment. She had lied to him when he had been so honest and open with her. This would destroy him. She looked down at their joined hands, his strong fingers gently stroking the back of her hand.

  “Oh, Oliver, I must confess something to you.”

  Surprise registered in his eyes, but he said nothing, remaining exactly where he was.

  “My name is not Miss Sarah Brown; it is Lady Sarah Sayers.” Tears poured down her face as she spoke, her stomach churning with each and every word. “I had to leave my father; I had to get away from home, and I had no other recourse than this. My housekeeper helped me to plan my escape, and since I have been accepted into your household, I have not given him a single thought...until this moment.”

  Oliver did not move, his fingers methodically rubbing her cold hands. His mind was whirring at her words, but, to his surprise, he felt no anger.

  “The letters of recommendation?” he asked thickly.

  “Forged,” she cried. “All untrue, Your Grace. I beg your forgiveness; I could not see another way out, but I should not have lied to you.” She pulled her hands from his and attempted to stand. “I shall pack my things this moment and return –”

  “Return where?” Oliver asked brusquely, rising to his feet and grabbing her arms to stop her from leaving. “Return back to your father? You may not know this, my dear, but I saw bruises on your body the day you arrived. They were from his hand, were they not?”

  Sarah dropped her head, the tears flowing even faster. It was as though a dam had burst, the pain and shame of her father’s treatment all washing out in one moment.

  “I must leave, Your Grace, I must. I have hidden the truth from you, whilst you have been so honest with me. I have hurt you and- ”

  Her words were cut off as the duke’s lips pressed against hers as he crushed her body against him. It was not a gentle kiss, but rather one of possession and of protection. When he raised his head, she was breathless, her cheeks still wet from crying. Oliver looked into her red-rimmed eyes and felt such a surge of love that he could not stand it. Whilst he was frustrated that she had lied to him, the angry bruises now made sense, and he would not hold that against her. Moreover, she was a lady, and he could have no qualms about marrying her now.

  “Sarah, I am not angry with you,” he said gently. “I have been wondering about those marks ever since you arrived here.”

  She gasped, turning crimson red in shame.

  “It is nothing to be ashamed of, my dear. That man treated you appall
ingly, and you can be sure that you will never have to return to him again. You will never receive that kind of treatment from my hand either; I hope you know that.”

  Sarah could hardly believe what she was hearing. Ashamed at first that Oliver had seen her bruises, she was both amazed and thankful that he would not be serving her notice. Her untruths had been forgiven in an instant, his kiss offering her more than she had ever hoped.

  “I trust you, Oliver,” she replied quietly, the shaking in her body replaced with growing warmth. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Oliver rested his forehead against her own.

  “There is no need for thanks, my love.”

  They rested there quietly for a moment before Oliver captured her lips once more. This time, he was gentle, taking his time as he explored her mouth. She returned his kiss, lost in his arms.

  A sudden knock startled them.

  “My butler has impeccable timing, as usual,” Oliver whispered against her mouth, his voice soft and filled with laughter.

  Sarah only smiled in return, sitting demurely back in her seat whilst the butler entered.

  “Your Grace, we have found no one on the property, nor do we have any clue as to why he was here in the first place.”

  “I think we have established that,” Oliver replied, glancing at Sarah. “However, I think it best that we all get some rest. We will discuss our situation in the morning.”

  The butler nodded, before making his exit, leaving them alone once again. Oliver returned to her and pulled her to her feet.

  “You will be quite well to sleep in your room?”

  “Once the drapes are shut, I shall be perfectly fine,” she replied, knowing that she was safe within these walls.

  “Well then, my dear, we must say goodnight.”

  She smiled at him as he took her face in his hands, closing her eyes as he lowered his head for a tender kiss.

  7