How had he slipped under her guard? She knew he was not trustworthy. He’d lied to her during their short courtship. Why would she suddenly develop feelings for him now, after only three days’ reacquaintance?
Perhaps it was time for her to leave. Now that he was no longer a threat, and her uncle still knew nothing of her whereabouts, she could go home to Kent. From there she could write the solicitor and inform him of her circumstances.
Sitting up on the small bed, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took a shaky breath. She would talk to Ma tomorrow and find out how much it might cost to take the stagecoach to Kent. She had a small amount of money from her flight two years ago. She hoped it was enough to get her home.
She rose and undressed. As she slipped into bed, her thoughts went to Royden. Had her outburst surprised him? He truly didn’t seem to remember her at all. How did someone forget the embarrassment she must have caused him that long ago December day? She’d wondered at the scars on his chest and neck. Had he been severely injured and given enough laudanum to make him forget? Or was he deceiving her?
“Maybe I should ask the doctor if laudanum could really do that.”
A good thought for tomorrow. But now, as she drifted into slumber, dreams of Statler Hall filled her head.
“I know I wanted to be here for you when you have your baby, but I need to go home now,” she told Betsy the next day.
“You know I never expected you to stay, Miss. ’Tis glad I am you’re thinkin’ about leavin’ because I can’t see anythin’ good comin’ of his lordship’s reappearance. Mebbe it’s a sign. Old Ma Branch would say so.”
Sarah nodded as she folded another small gown and put it in the basket at her feet.
“You’ve been busy, Bets.” She tried to steer the conversation in another direction. She didn’t want to talk about the real reason she wanted to leave. She would deal with her feelings for Royden on her own. In the meantime, she wanted to enjoy Betsy’s company for the day.
“What did the Merriweathers say about you leavin’?”
“I haven’t said anything to them yet. Although, I plan to ask if they know how much I’ll need to get to Kent by stagecoach.”
“I don’t know about you ridin’ a stagecoach across the country, Miss. Mebbe you should write to the solicitor and ask first. It’s not safe for a lady to be travelin’ alone these days.”
“We were just fine coming up here two years ago.”
“But I was with you then.” Betsy levered her bulk up off the bench and crossed the room to pick up another small basket. When she returned, she said, “Maybe you could ask one of Della’s brothers to go with you.”
She sighed. “Then I would have to pay his way too. And I’m not sure I have enough to pay my own way.”
That notion occupied her thoughts for most of the day as she helped Betsy sort, wash and mend some of the miniature clothes she’d been given for her baby. What would she do if she didn’t have enough money? She could write to her solicitor. She still had his direction somewhere in her belongings. Of course, she wasn’t sure what that action might set off in response.
The solicitor had been willing to talk to her and explain her father’s will to her. But when she balked at the wedding her uncle arranged, the solicitor hadn’t come to her assistance, despite her pleas. What if he notified her uncle of her whereabouts instead of sending her the money to return home?
She hadn’t considered that possibility. Perhaps she ought to stay put until her birthday.
The problem was, now that she’d thought of it, she wanted to go home. She’d never been good at waiting and, with her birthday approaching, she was anxious for her self-imposed exile to be over.
“Perhaps if his lordship is really married, he might be willin’ to take you back to London.”
Betsy’s suggestion had her staring at her former maid in consternation. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” The maid’s matter-of-fact inquiry sent Sarah’s mind off on a tangent.
Because he kissed me and I liked it.
“Because I’m not sure he can be trusted to have told me the truth. He claims to not remember me at all, but I’m not sure. Sometimes he seems as if he hasn’t any idea who I am, then other times I’m positive he’s watching me, speculating on whether I believe him or not.”
“So you don’t trust him?”
“I think that’s it. Although, there’s something else about him…something that tells me he really doesn’t remember me.” She sighed and picked up another infant gown. “I just don’t know, Bets.”
More to the point, she admitted as she walked back to the inn later, she didn’t know if she trusted herself. She couldn’t get the feeling of Royden’s mouth on hers out of her head. Reaching up, she brushed her fingertips across her tingling lips. Would he have kissed her again if he hadn’t passed out?
She shook her head and looked up at the gathering clouds. The air smelled damp and the breeze had picked up. They were in for a good storm shortly. Maybe that would mean the inn wouldn’t be so busy and she could talk to Ma about the stage.
The kitchen was deserted as she passed through, but a savory stew bubbled in the large pot hanging in one of the large fireplaces. In the tap room, she grabbed her apron, bucket and rag. Wiping down tables was a mindless task, allowing her to review her options for returning home. Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep her thoughts in line and they kept returning to Royden and his kiss.
“You have got to stop thinking about him,” she muttered.
Yet her mind insisted on dwelling on him and his seeming about-face. Would she have changed him for the better had she married him? Or was he in love with his wife, and she had changed him for the better? He couldn’t be. He wouldn’t have kissed her if he loved his wife. Would he?
Her own parents hadn’t married for love, yet it had developed into a love match. Her father told her often as she grew up that he’d loved her mother. The glow on his face when he spoke of his wife convinced Sarah that she should do the same. Until she’d discovered his treachery, she’d thought herself in love with Royden. She now knew different.
His betrayal had cut deep, but she hadn’t felt as if her life was over when all was said and done.
Footsteps on the stairs caused her to look up as the doctor descended.
“Good afternoon, Miss Jessie.”
Her heart sank. She thought she’d stayed away long enough that he would have already left. She didn’t want to see the doctor. He’d just want her to take something up to Royden, or go up and keep him company.
“Good afternoon, Doctor. How is the patient today?” She couldn’t keep herself from asking the question.
“On the mend.” He chuckled as he put his bag down on one of the tables. “Actually, he’s mending remarkably well. As long as he travels easy, he could probably leave here in a couple of days.”
“That’s good. I would imagine he’s ready to continue on his journey.”
The doctor nodded. “That he is. That he is.”
Sarah moved behind the bar and retrieved the doctor’s favorite drink.
“You done good the other night.” He accepted the glass she offered and took a swallow. “Where’d you learn to bandage like that?”
“My father,” she answered. “He’d studied a little medicine and once wanted to be a doctor. He gave it up when his father died because he was needed at home. There were times on and off when I was growing up that there wasn’t a doctor close by, so the people in the village would come to him for help.”
Revealing her father was a viscount would only cause more curiosity. Something she didn’t need now she’d decided to leave.
“And did you help him on occasion?”
She grinned at him as she nodded. “I’ve never liked the sight of blood, but Papa always said losing a little never hurt, but losing a lot could be fatal.”
The doctor nodded his agreement. Finishing off his drink, he handed the glass back to her a
nd said, “His lordship could use a drop or two of that.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I was afraid you’d say that.” Seeing the doctor’s confused look, she added, “But I’ll take him up some as soon as I’m finished here.”
After the doctor left, she scolded herself as she finished the last few tables.
“You didn’t have to volunteer.” Would it have mattered? “No, I suppose it wouldn’t have. He would have just asked you to do it, and you wouldn’t have said no.” You’re too soft. “I suppose so.”
“Who you talkin’ to, Jessie-girl?”
She whirled around at the sound of Da’s voice. He stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen.
“Oh! You startled me, Da.”
“I ken see that.” He came into the room. “Who was you talkin’ to?”
She sighed. “Just myself. Dr. Kiley asked me to take some of his special drink up to his lordship. I told him I would as soon as I finished the tables.”
“Good.”
Da said no more as he went behind the bar and donned his own apron.
When she finished the last table, she took the bucket into the kitchen and found Ma chopping vegetables at the worktable.
“I thought you was still at Betsy’s.”
“I haven’t been back long, but no one was in the kitchen when I returned.” She went out the back door, disposed of the water and returned the bucket to just inside the door. “Doc Kiley just left. He says his lordship will be able to travel in a few days.”
“A good thing, I ’spect.”
A very good thing, Sarah thought as she carried a drink up to Lord Royden’s room a short time later. The sooner she saw the last of him, the better she would feel.
Max stared at the blank sheet of foolscap on the table. He’d been trying unsuccessfully to compose a letter to Lion since the doctor left. Unfortunately, he had no idea where to start in explaining what was happening. The knock on the door gave him a reprieve, until he saw who it was.
Jessie entered carrying a tray with a glass of whiskey on it. She was probably both the first and last person he wanted to see at the moment. Still, he needed to talk to her and now was as good a time as any. The sun would be setting soon, and he wasn’t sure she would remain once night fell.
“Thank you.” When she looked as if she would bolt, he stopped her. “Please come in and sit. I have wanted to talk to you all day.” The wariness in her expression warned him she might try to refuse. “Please,” he continued. “I need to explain…and apologize.”
She sat in the chair on the opposite side of the table. When she looked up at him, he was relieved the intense dislike he often saw in her eyes wasn’t present.
He took a sip of his drink to cover his nervousness. Where should he start? An apology. Perhaps that would soften her toward him and make her more amenable to the favor he wanted to ask.
“I owe you an apology.” The whiskey slid smoothly into his stomach, giving him courage. Dutch courage, but courage nevertheless. In the face of her silence, he forced himself to continue. “I’m not David.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Not David?”
“Well, I am, but I’m not. At least, I’m not the David you think I am.” Could he be any more unclear?
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not Lord Royden.” Why hadn’t he thought to explain it that way earlier? Before he confused her.
Anger blazed in her eyes for a moment. Then she took a deep breath, obviously bringing herself back under control. “Then who are you?”
“Max. His twin.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open for a second before she snapped it shut. Shock showed in her features before she controlled them.
“T-twin?”
Max nodded.
“You-you…he…never said anything about any sibling, much less a twin.”
“I’m not surprised. Considering I don’t think he ever expected me to return to England.”
“I don’t understand. Why…?” She was at a loss for words. He didn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure what questions he might have asked had he been in her shoes.
“I apologize for allowing you to believe I was David. Had I known of your previous association with him, I would never have let it happen.”
She shook her head as if trying to clear it.
“Remember the first time we talked? I said if I caused you harm, I would rectify it.”
She nodded.
“That includes whatever David did to you. But I can’t help if I don’t know.”
She pulled herself together. “Why should I believe you?”
He turned his head, revealing the scar on his neck. “Did the David you know have a scar like this?”
“No. But you could have received it within the past two years.”
“I could have, but I didn’t. I got this particular scar at Waterloo.”
The vee between her eyebrows returned. “Both of you were at Waterloo?”
He sat back in his chair and regarded her for a long moment. “As far as I know, David has never left England.” When she opened her mouth to reply, he held up his hand. “Why don’t you tell me what David told you about Waterloo.”
Exasperated, she sat back in her chair too. “The same thing he told everyone else, I’m assuming. He was wounded while intercepting a French soldier who got too close to Wellington.”
He didn’t know why he was surprised. Hadn’t Lion hinted as much?
“And did he tell you where the scars were that he received during his bit of heroism?”
She blushed. “No. But I didn’t ask.”
“I see.” It suddenly became clear to him why Lion had been trying to get him to return before now.
“So, you truly know nothing about me?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But if David lied to you, it’s possible he lied to me.” He stopped for a moment then continued. “Actually, I’m sure he’s lied to me. How far his lies extend remains to be seen.”
“How will you find out?”
“I am on my way to London. I would be nearly there by now if it hadn’t been for my run-in with a highwayman. Then again, had it not been for that run-in, I wouldn’t have met you.”
She blushed again.
“Are you truly married?”
He shook his head again. “No, but David wrote to tell me he was. When you assumed I was David, I merely told you what I knew about him.”
She tilted her head to one side, studying him. He was struck again by how expressive her eyes were. Curiosity surfaced in the pale blue depths.
“If he is Lord Royden, does that mean he is older?”
“Yes. It is also the reason he was not at Waterloo. My father didn’t want me to purchase a commission. He would never have allowed his heir to do so.”
“Oh.”
Shadows filled the room while they spoke, and now he lit the two candles he’d set beside his paper. He could hear the wind blowing through the trees outside, and the beginning pitter-patter of rain against the window.
There was a knock on the door. She got up to answer it.
“Ma sent me up with his lordship’s dinner,” a female voice said. “An’ she said you was to come downstairs an’ have yours.”
“Thank you, Sally. Tell Ma I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
When she turned back to him with the tray, he noticed she’d left the door open. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to ask her for a favor. He’d shocked her enough for one day.
She set the tray before him and his stomach growled at the savory aromas. He suddenly realized how hungry he was.
“Would you like a mug of ale or some wine?”
In France, nearly all he’d drunk was wine, and he missed the hearty English ale. The local pub near his family’s country seat served a wondrous locally brewed dark ale. Da Merriweather had something almost as good.
“I think I’ll have some of that wonderful dark ale. I missed it in France.”
As she stepped int
o the hallway, he called her back and said, “I have a favor to ask of you, but tonight is probably not the right time. I’m sure you will have other questions to ask me regarding David.”
She smiled. The first genuine smile she’d given him and it transformed her features. The glow of acceptance in her eyes warmed him completely through. As he stared at her he was reminded of the feel of her lips beneath his and another part of him stirred.
“I will be back with your ale in a few minutes,” was all she said before she closed the door.
True to her word, she returned mere minutes later with a tankard of dark ale. As she turned to leave, however, she turned back to him with another question.
“Do you know who your brother married—and when?”
He took a drink from the tankard, savoring the slightly bitter taste then looked up at her.
“Hmmm. Let me think. Cynthia? No. Cecily? No.” It was his turn to frown as he tried to remember what David had written. “They were married not long after Christmas, I think. Just a few years ago.”
“I suppose it’s too much to ask to remember your own sister-in-law’s name?”
He shrugged. “I never expected to meet her unless she and David came to France, and he insisted she was afraid to travel by boat.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll think of it. It can’t be that hard to remember. It was a fairly common name.”
She laughed. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know. I was just curious.” She turned toward the door. “I’d better go get my own supper, or Ma will come up here looking for me.”
Memory returned as she opened the door.
“Sarah,” he blurted. “That’s it! I knew I’d remember.”
If he hadn’t been watching her, he never would have noticed her entire body become rigid before she spun around to face him again.
“Sarah? Are you sure?” There was an urgency in her voice that surprised him. The question caught him off-guard, and he thought for a moment.
“I’m fairly certain that was the name. Why?”
She took a deep breath and let it out.
The Scarred Heir Page 6
