by Joyce Alec
“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 t
hat 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 appallingly, 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
Sarah was surprised at how soundly she had slept, waking a little later than usual. Quickly, she rose to dress, pausing for a moment before flinging the drapes open wide. The cold morning sun had only just begun to rise, giving her time for a quick breakfast before she began the day’s lessons. To her great delight, she noticed snowflakes beginning to fall. Perhaps the children would be able to build a snowman this afternoon.
The children struggled to focus on their lessons, too excited by the heavy flakes of snow falling outside. Eventually, Sarah gave up on geography and allowed the children to watch from the window. Their excited chatter made her smile, as she remembered her own childhood. The snow was sticking now, and she was certain that it would become quite deep, should it keep falling as heavily as it was.
“Perhaps after luncheon, we shall go outside and play in the snow. Would you like that?”
Two pairs of shining eyes looked up at her, with both children squealing in delight at the idea.
“Can I come?”
The duke’s voice met her ears, and both children scampered towards him, both talking at once. He swung Elizabeth up in his arms and walked towards the window where Sarah stood, taking in the outdoor scene.
“Goodness, it certainly is heavy! We shall all need to wrap up warmly, so scarves and boots, children!”
“Luncheon first?” Sarah interjected. “They have not eaten since breakfast!”
“Of course, of course, forgive me. Children, run along now, and we shall go out immediately after you have finished. Both myself and Miss Brown shall join you shortly.”
Without a backward glance, Elizabeth and Samuel left the schoolroom, leaving Sarah alone with the duke once again. Sarah dropped her eyes, blushing, suddenly embarrassed over their late-night escapades.
“You slept well, my dear?” His hand lifted her chin gently as she looked deep into his eyes.
“I did, I thank you,” she replied, a little breathlessly as his arms slid around her waist, and he leaned in to kiss her. She could never grow tired of his kisses, she thought to herself. Each one was sweeter than the last.
“Sarah,” he said, pausing for breath as he lifted his head “I must ask you and the children to stay within sight and sound of myself when you are outside, do you understand?”
Sarah nodded in confusion.
“Of course, Your Gr-, I mean, Oliver. Why, may I ask?”
He toyed with her fingers, sighing once before replying.
“I believe the man who was seen on the grounds and who was at your window last night is one and the same. I believe he has been sent by your father to find you, and now that he has done so, I expect him to return to your father with all speed. However, the other matter that I spoke of — the letters and blackmail — do not come from your father. They come from another source.”
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��You have found the culprit then?”
He paused.
“I believe so. My men have discovered that my cousin, Croyton, who is in line to inherit, has not been seen in as many months. They have also discovered that he is in a vast amount of debt, having wasted his funds on gambling and debauchery.” He grimaced in distaste. “Without additional funds, he is sure to go to debtors’ prison should he be found. I have surmised that it is he who has sent these letters and demands for money.”
Sarah nodded slowly, the duke’s theory making sense.
“My wife flaunted her lovers, mostly to cause me suffering, so it is not hard to work out how my cousin knows of her philandering. Yet, this knowledge does not help me in any way; I am still at a loss. Tonight is when I am meant to place the money in the churchyard, and I am still no further forward with an alternative plan. I need to protect my children.”
There was silence for a few moments, each of them quiet with their own thoughts. Suddenly, an idea hit her.
“Oliver, what if you played him at his own game?”
He looked at her, puzzled.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” she replied slowly, her plan still forming in her head. “If he were found, he would go straight to debtors’ prison, yes? Then surely all we have to do is catch him. In prison, he can do no harm to you or the children and would be ridiculed by society, should he decide to say anything about your wife.”
Oliver stared at her for a few moments, thinking carefully. The idea had merit but was not without risk. Nevertheless, he had no other ideas and was not likely to either. He took a deep breath.
“It is a good thought,” he said quietly, taking her hands once more. “I can see no other alternative. Should he be foolish enough to collect the money himself — and I am fairly certain that he will — then I will attempt to capture him.”
“Not alone!” Sarah gasped.
He shrugged.
