image of herself standing on the edge of a great precipice. One step??
"I think you'd best go," she said quietly.
Inside, in her heart, she wanted him to contradict her.
She knew he could not.
Without a word, he left.
Sarah slowly sank to the floor. His whiskers had burned her skin. Her
body still yearned. She bowed her head and wept.
Chapter Seven
The next day was the longest of Sarah's life. She hadn't slept well the
night before after Graham had left her room and, today, couldn't
concentrate on any but the simplest tasks. 'Twas as if she did not know
herself at all.
The twins, and the household servants, were excited about the wager and
evening ball. The girls squirmed and fidgeted and 'twas all Sarah could
do to teach lessons and reply to their numerous requests without pulling
her hair out.
She did not see Graham, but she overheard Betty out in the hallway
telling Nurse that he was in the warehouse reviewing ledger sheets.
"Is it true the Garrison Commander's daughter was looking for him when
she took her daily ride yesterday?" Nurse asked.
"Everyone says so," Betty answered. "He's turned her head. 'Course he's
the kind of man who can do that to a lass," she said with a sigh.
"I pray 'tis so," Nurse said. "I'd like to see young Mister Brock get
his, and make a wee bit of money on the side."
They laughed and continued on their way. Sarah crossed her arms against
her waist, hugging herself close. Miss Whitlow was no fool. She'd
recognized in Graham a man worth marrying. Sarah knew she wouldn't let
him slip away whether he could dance or not.
Escaping to her room after the twins had finished their lessons, she
drew the curtains closed and sat in the dark as if in mourning. Soon, it
would be over. Soon, Graham would leave and just as she had years ago
when her suitor had left her, she would eventually put the memory of
Graham on a shelf.
A knock sounded on her door. Twas the twins. They walked in like perfect
little ladies but their eyes danced with excitement.
"We saw Graham all dressed in his new finery," Janet said.
"He looks handsome," Jean agreed.
"And he's going to win the wager," Janet said stoutly. "Nurse says 'tis
true."
"What of your brother?" Sarah asked, curious.
Janet rolled her eyes. "Blair is handsome but Graham is kind."
"Yes, Graham is kind," her twin echoed. "He has time for us. We irritate
Blair."
"Besides," Janet continued with great authority, "everyone knows Miss
Whitlow is partial to Graham. Even Father. We heard him shouting at
Blair in the library that he must best Graham. The Garrison Commander
has been asking questions about Graham's prospects."
"Oh." 'Twas the only word Sarah could manage past the lump forming in
her throat.
"Will you come see Graham leave for the ball?" Jean asked. "We are going
to watch from the nursery window."
"Um, no, thank you, girls. I need to do a bit of reading. I don't feel
well."
They accepted her excuses in the way children do and hurried out lest
they miss the opportunity to see their cousin leave for the ball.
Sarah sat still and alone, sensing the passing of time by the beat of
her own heart. She closed her eyes and recalled perfectly the taste of
Graham's kiss, the warmth of his skin against hers.
Need rose inside her. Wanting. Desire.
Loneliness.
Suddenly, Sarah didn't want him to go without seeing him one last time.
She bolted to her door, throwing it open and hurrying to the nursery.
Already dressed in their white cotton shifts and sitting around a table,
the twins looked up in surprise. Nurse was giving them warm milk before
tucking them in bed. "Good to see you, Miss Ambrose," she said. "Do you
mind watching the girls for a moment while I take this tray downstairs?"
Sarah didn't speak but went to the window. The long shadows of twilight
covered the street. Lights from lanterns shone like small jewels around
the quay and off the bows of boats. The warehouse doors were firmly locked.
No one walked the streets. They were gone. All gone.
"Is something the matter?" Nurse asked.
Sarah turned. "No, nothing." She remembered Nurse had asked her to watch
the twins and added, "Yes, I'll watch the girls for you."
Nurse gave her a concerned look but left the room on her errand. Sarah
looked out the window again.
"Were you searching for Graham?" Janet asked. Both she and Jean had
risen from the table and come up by her side without her being aware.
Her first thought was to deny it ... but honesty prevailed. "You said he
was so grand, I wanted a peek." She forced herself to smile.
Jean's face fell. "You are too late. He is gone. Blair was handsome,
too. Even Father looked his best. He's bought a new wig. Blair has a new
one, too."
"I'm sorry I missed them then," Sarah said. She smoothed a hand over
their red shiny hair and then gave them each a kiss. "Come now. Let's be
tucked in our beds before Nurse returns, shall we?"
"All right," they chimed in unison and scrambled to see who could be the
first in bed and under the covers.
Sarah followed them, unable to speak. She'd missed Graham. He would go
to the ball and sweep Miss Whitlow off her feet as Sarah had predicted .
. . and her world would go on as before. Kissing other people's
children. Living in others' households. Sleeping alone in a cold bed?
"Miss Ambrose?"
"Yes, Janet?" she replied absently.
"If you liked Graham so much that you are sad, then why didn't you stop
him from going to the ball?"
Sarah didn't know what to say. "Well, because . . . he?" She paused.
"Because he had to go meet Miss Whitlow."
"But he seemed sad, too," Jean said. "Janet and I thought so. He looked
up at your window as if he wished you were there to say good-bye."
"He did?" Sarah found the information a revelation.
Nurse laughed from the doorway having returned from her errand. "How you
two go on." She mugged a face at Sarah. "They are little matchmakers
they are. They've thought a long time that you and Mister McNab made a
handsome couple?"
"They are friends," Jean corrected.
"Yes, friends," Nurse said jovially, patting the child on the head.
"You can love your friends," Janet said.
/"Ach, /she is much older than he is," Nurse replied pointedly.
Jean rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "Her age doesn't matter to Graham."
Janet nodded her head in enthusiastic agreement. "Graham loves Miss
Ambrose."
Nurse pooh-poohed their comments but Sarah no longer attended to what
was being said.
Instead, she stood stunned, feeling as if blinders had been removed from
her eyes. "Do you really think he loves me?" she asked no one in
particular. Over the years, she and Graham had talked, laughed, and
enjoyed each other's company. Now, she realized that even then there had
been more than friendship.
Jean and Janet both bounced up to sit in their beds. "Aye, he think
s
only of you," Janet said. Jean giggled her agreement.
/And Sarah loved him!/
The realization rang through her with its truth.
She loved Graham McNab, had always loved him and, yet, had not
recognized the fact. No wonder she'd been despondent over his wooing
another woman. Last night, her tears had not been over nothing. Her body
knew what her mind had not understood.
Raising her fingertips to her lips, she could recall the kiss, the
desire, the /passion /between them . . . and he had looked up to her
window. He'd wanted her to be there.
"Do you truly believe he loves me?" she asked the girls.
"Oh, Miss Ambrose, you can't put a great deal of weight on what they
have to say?" Nurse started but she spoke to air.
Sarah had not waited for an answer. In her heart, she knew the truth
even if Graham, like herself, did not yet see.
But she had to catch him first. She had to stop him before he danced
with Miss Whitlow. She had to tell him she loved him.
She ran from the nursery to her room. Quickly, she changed into her blue
dress. Once she'd been betrayed by love?now, against all reason, she was
ready to risk all for love.
She left her room and minutes later was out the door and on her way to
the ball.
The Garrison Commander's house was several blocks from Sir Edward's. It
took her less than a half hour to travel the distance using several
shortcuts she and the twins knew. Darkness had fallen. The evening air
was velvety soft. The perfect night for a dance.
The ball was a crush. People were still arriving. Sarah hurried along
the line of carriages, heading toward the front door. A gentleman on the
steps leading into the house announced to those behind him that things
should move along nicely now since the receiving line had been
discontinued so Miss Whitlow could lead the first dance.
Boldly, Sarah worked her way up the steps past the others, attached
herself to a group of guests, and slipped through the front door.
Inside, she flowed with the others toward the ballroom. The musicians
were warming up, their chords dissonant.
Because of the purpose of the dance, the snatches of conversation Sarah
overheard among the other guests concerned the gentlemen in the room.
Every time someone referred to a man's height, her heart leaped to her
throat fearing they discussed Graham?and yet, she did not see him.
Then, "Oh, look, Miss Whitlow is being led to the dance floor for the
first dance," a matron whispered to another. "Aren't they an attractive
couple?"
Fans fluttered. "I believe him more handsome than all the rest," came
the reply.
Sarah stopped dead. She was too late. Graham had already led Miss
Whitlow to the dance floor. Still, Sarah pushed forward, needing to see
him with her own eyes. 'Twould break her heart to watch him dancing with
another woman and yet, she could not stop herself. The music started,
the chords now sweet and clear.
The tune was for a quadrille. Her prediction had been right.
All eyes were on the couple leading the dance. Sarah's view of the dance
floor was blocked by a burly, broad-shouldered man. She moved. He moved.
She stood on tiptoe but could not see around him. At last, frustrated,
she pinched the fellow. He jumped and moved out of her way.
Sarah had a clear view now of the dance floor and Miss Whitlow . . . who
was dancing with a white-wigged military officer.
Not Graham.
Her gaze searched the room. She couldn't find him. Her heart beat with
panic and relief.
Until she saw Sir Edward. Blair stood by his side surrounded by some of
his Bully Boy cronies, the expression below his silver-white wig dangerous.
Sarah eased back into the crowd before they could see her and made her
way toward the front door. Where was Graham?
She searched a few rooms?the library, the supper room, the den?but he
was not there either. By this time, the ball was well under way. People
moved among the rooms freely and it was possible she could have passed
him a hundred times and not realized it. She never saw him close to Miss
Whitlow although Blair led the lady out for the second dance. Several
people commented on what a handsome man he was. Sarah could not have
cared less.
At last, she admitted defeat. When she caught sight of Sir Edward coming
toward her on his way to the supper room, she realized she must leave
before discovery.
Outside, she drank in the cool night air and walked home. Fate had
intervened. She doubted she would ever have the courage to admit her
love now. Perhaps 'twas best because at least she still had her pride.
Bailey met her at the door. He'd been enjoying a catnap since he was
expected to wait up for Sir Edward. She wished him a good night, picked
up a candle, and made her way up the stairs.
'Twas best this way, she told herself. She'd been saved from looking the
fool . . . and yet the knowledge did not make her feel better.
All was quiet on the schoolroom and nursery floor. Her footsteps made no
sound on the thick runner. She pushed open the door to her room?and
stopped short, surprised to see a candle burning.
Graham was there.
He rose from the chair he'd been sitting in as she entered. For a span
of what seemed years, they stared at each other.
The twins had been right. He was the image of masculine perfection in
his new finery. The marine-blue velvet coat and crisp lace neck cloth
set off his broad shoulders and his clear green eyes. He didn't wear a
wig like the others, but had pulled his dark hair back in a neat queue
tied off with black velvet ribbon.
"Where have you been?" he asked.
Her gaze could not leave his. Wild boars could have been running through
the room and Sarah would not have noticed. Her senses were full of him
and only him.
"I went to the Garrison Commander's House to find you."
"I left . . . before the dancing."
Sarah's heart beat in her throat. "Why?"
"Because she wasn't you."
Her knees almost buckled beneath her. She feared she was dreaming his
words. "But, Graham, she's beautiful and I'm older than you."
Graham's wonderful mouth smoothed into a smile. "Sarah." He said her
name softly like the whisper of a benediction. "I've never asked your age."
"But we're friends."
"Aye . . . and we'll be better lovers."
His promise melted all resistance. He held out his hand. "I love you,
Sarah. I want to marry you."
Chapter Eight
Sarah couldn't speak. To hear her own heart echoed in his words. She
raised her hands up to her mouth, fearing she'd imagined Graham's
declaration out of her hopes and secret dreams.
He frowned. "Have you nothing to say?"
'Twas then she realized he was as unsure about her affections as she had
been about him. "I love you. I love you so very much," she vowed fervently.
He was in front of her in a blink, taking her in his arms, and raining
kisses all over her face. She held the candle out away fr
om them. In her
mind's eye, she could see them in this embrace with her hand saving the
candle.
She started laughing. He pulled back. "What is funny?"
Sarah blew out the candle in her hand and shut the door. "Nothing."
Heedless of the wax, she let the candle, holder and all, drop to the
floor and kissed him back with everything she was worth.
They tried to explain themselves between kisses. "I went to the ball . .
. ," she said.
"I looked at Miss Whitlow . . . she wasn't you ... I love you."
"I wanted to stop you ... I wanted to tell you . . ." Sarah said.
He broke off the kiss and looked down at her. "Then tell me. Let me hear
you say it, Sarah."
"I love you."
"Again."
She repeated the words, louder and stronger this time.
Graham hugged her close, holding her tight. She hugged back and then
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