by Cheryl Holt
Her obsessing had kept her from noticing Noah and Pet’s lengthy absence. When she’d finally glanced at the clock, she’d been stunned by how time had flown, and she’d begun hunting for them, but they were nowhere to be found.
“Noah! Pet!” she tried again, and she waited, listening, but there was no reply.
She exited the woods and rounded the house, and to her dismay, there were two carriages parked in the yard. One was very fancy, a coach-and-four complete with a crest and liveried outriders. The other was small and nondescript with no markings and only a lone driver in the box.
Her pulse raced with dread. Had the children suffered an accident? Was it bad news?
The outriders were loafing over in the shade, and as she hurried forward, they glared at her in a condemning manner.
No doubt the servants were gossiping about her. They’d be speculating over Sebastian’s intentions. Well, when he followed through—she refused to accept that he wouldn’t!—they’d all discover his intentions, and she’d be his wife. They wouldn’t dare glare at her then!
She ignored them and rushed in the door, frantic over what was about to be revealed, but she halted in her tracks. There were numerous traveling trunks sitting in the foyer, as if her belongings had been packed while she was out.
There was a young lady seated on the sofa in the parlor. She looked very comfortable, as if she owned the residence. She seemed familiar, but on the spur of the moment, Sarah couldn’t recall who she was.
With her blond hair and blue eyes, she was very beautiful, plump with good health, and definitely aware of the striking impression she made. Her hair was curled and braided in an intricate style, and she was dripping with jewels.
She was everything Sarah was not: gorgeous, wealthy, entitled. She glowered at Sarah as if she were a scullery maid who hadn’t cleaned the ashes from the hearth as she’d been trained.
“May I help you?” Sarah asked.
“Miss Robertson, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I’m Sarah Robertson. My wards are missing, and I’m growing concerned. Are you here about them? Please assure me that they’re all right.”
The woman rose to her feet, her movements graceful and elegant. “I am Veronica Gordon.”
The name rang a bell, but with how afraid Sarah was over Noah and Pet, she couldn’t recollect why it would.
“Hello, Miss Gordon. Have you come about Noah and Pet?”
Miss Gordon bristled. “You don’t recognize me.”
“No, sorry. If we’ve met, I don’t remember.”
“I am Sebastian’s fiancée.”
“I don’t think so.”
The words were out of Sarah’s mouth before she could bite them down.
Miss Gordon’s identity rammed into her with lightning speed. Ophelia Sinclair had claimed Sebastian was engaged to Miss Gordon. Sarah had immediately confronted him, and he’d sworn there was no betrothal. She’d believed him.
Suddenly, she felt weak with alarm. Who was telling the truth and, more importantly, who wasn’t?
Miss Gordon scoffed with annoyance. “You don’t think I am Sebastian’s fiancée? Let me guess, Miss Robertson. You asked Sebastian if he was promised, and he insisted he wasn’t.”
“Ah…yes.” Sarah was too perturbed to answer like a sane person.
“Then I hope you haven’t ruined yourself for him.”
Sarah scowled. “Miss Gordon, your comment hints at immorality on my part. I can’t imagine what you’ve been told about me, but I’m not the type to blithely be insulted by you.”
“I wasn’t insulting you. I was warning you. Sebastian has a reputation as a scoundrel.”
“Really? I’ve never noted any wicked traits.”
Miss Gordon shrugged. “It’s a burden we Sinclair women have to carry. The Sinclair men are disloyal cads. His mother explained it to me prior to my agreeing to wed him. She wanted me to realize what I was getting myself into so I wouldn’t be surprised by his philandering.”
Sarah struggled to exhibit a calm façade. “There must be a message for me in your remark. What is it exactly?”
“Sebastian will trifle with any female in a skirt. It’s a failing of his, but I decided to wed him anyway. I’m eager to be Mrs. Sebastian Sinclair, so I thought it would be worth it, and—as his mother constantly states—trollops like you are a penny a dozen. You’ll never have any bearing on my marriage to him.”
“Mr. Sinclair and I are friends,” Sarah said. “I’m having a spot of financial trouble, and he’s been kind enough to assist me.”
“Yes, I found out from the servants how he’s rationalized your affair, but I’m not as gullible as they are.”
Sarah blew out a heavy breath. “I’m in the middle of a crisis, and I need to deal with it. Would you excuse me?”
She went to the door and whipped it open, and she gestured outside, indicating Miss Gordon should depart, but she didn’t budge. She extended her hand, and it sported a gold ring, with a huge diamond in the center.
“It became official two nights ago,” she said.
“Congratulations.”
“It was after the inquest was over. Sebastian’s mother hosted a party at her home to celebrate. All of fashionable London was there, and he proposed in front of everyone. It was quite romantic.”
Sarah tried to recall where Sebastian had been two nights earlier. Could he have been in London, proposing to another woman? Was it possible? Miss Gordon seemed so sure.
“If you’re engaged as you claim—” Sarah started.
“I’m not claiming it, Miss Robertson. I’m stating it as a fact. Do you see this ring on my finger? It’s a Sinclair family heirloom. The Sinclair brides all get to wear it.”
“Fine. You’re engaged to Mr. Sinclair. Why bother me over it?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to go away and never come back.”
“I’m not hurting you by tarrying in this cottage. Why would you be upset?”
“May I be frank, Miss Robertson? Even if you wish I wouldn’t be, I must be candid. Your presence is keeping Sebastian from moving forward with his life. So long as you’re here, he can frolic and play, and he doesn’t have to buckle down.”
“I’m not keeping him from any task.”
“Aren’t you?” The question hung in the air between them. Then Miss Gordon said, “I can vividly picture it. He’s been leading you on, filling your head with nonsense. You view yourself as Cinderella, and he’s your Prince Charming!”
“It’s not like that,” Sarah contended, although it absolutely was.
“I suppose I was correct and you’ve ruined yourself for him.”
“He and I are friends,” Sarah repeated, but without much vehemence, “and I’m incensed by your accusations.”
“You’re a very bad liar, Miss Robertson. Have you any idea how many young ladies he’s seduced? Have you any idea how often his mother has waded through this same scenario with various maidens?”
“Mr. Sinclair wouldn’t act like that.”
“He wouldn’t?” Miss Gordon laughed viciously. “He is his father’s son. Are you aware of Sir Sidney’s licentious habits? Don’t pretend you haven’t heard about them.”
“I’ve heard about them.”
“Now then, I am a patient person, but I am also very possessive of what’s mine. I have let Sebastian entertain himself with you, but your relationship appears to have progressed to an untenable level, so you must vanish from our lives.”
“I’d have to speak to Mr. Sinclair before I could agree.”
“Speak to Sebastian? How would you? He left for Scotland today. Didn’t you know?”
Sarah blanched. “He’s gone?”
“What? He didn’t tell you?” Miss Gordon waved a breezy hand. “Well, he didn’t have any duty to tell you. After all, you’re just his latest…tart.”
Sarah felt as if she’d been punched. He was on his way to Scotland? What?
“Why…ah…is he in Scotland?”
<
br /> “That’s not really any of your business, is it?”
“Probably not, but I…ah…how long will he be away?”
“Several weeks at least.” The reply was so shocking that Sarah’s knees gave out, and she lurched over to a chair and eased down. Miss Gordon ignored her and continued. “He’s there on a family matter, but he’ll also be scouting property for our summer residence. I used to spend school holidays outside Edinburgh when I was a girl, and I loved it there. He’s buying me a house in the area as a wedding gift.”
“I’m happy for you,” Sarah managed to say.
“Whatever he might have promised you, Miss Robertson, he didn’t mean it, and shortly—after I am Sebastian’s bride—Hero’s Haven will be my home. I don’t regret to inform you that you have overstayed your welcome.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sarah murmured.
“Did you seriously think he would be interested in you? Who are you, Miss Robertson? As far as I can discern, you’re no one at all, while I am his cousin and bound to him since I was a child.”
The door opened behind her, and Sarah leapt up and whirled around, hoping it would be Noah and Pet or even Sebastian so he could strut in and call Miss Gordon a liar. But it was an older woman, about fifty or so, imperious in her bearing and irked in her countenance.
“Is it settled?” she asked Miss Gordon.
“No. She refuses to accept that Sebastian and I are betrothed, and I can’t convince her.”
The older woman marched over to Sarah and said, “I am Gertrude Sinclair, revered widow of Sir Sidney Sinclair.”
Sebastian’s mother? “Hello, Mrs. Sinclair.”
The regal shrew stared down her nose at Sarah and announced, “I have taken your wards.”
“What?”
“I have them in my custody. Would you like to have them back?”
“Where are they?” Sarah demanded.
Mrs. Sinclair didn’t respond, and Sarah dashed by her and ran outside to peek in the two carriages, but they were empty. The outriders were still loafing in the shade, watching her with bored expressions.
“I’m looking for a blond boy and girl, age twelve and six,” she told them.
They didn’t answer or even seem to notice her. They might have been deaf, and she might have been invisible.
She ran in and stormed to Mrs. Sinclair who’d moved to the writing desk in the corner.
“What have you done with them?” she raged.
“Sit down, Miss Robertson,” was Mrs. Sinclair’s retort. She pulled out the desk’s chair and motioned to it.
“Why should I?” Sarah asked.
“You will write Sebastian a letter of goodbye, then I will take you to the children.” Mrs. Sinclair raised a brow. “If you won’t, you’ll never see them again.”
Sarah studied the awful woman, then shook her head with disgust. “What is wrong with you?”
“You are wrong with me, Miss Robertson. You have inserted yourself into our lives, even though—in the past—I had to threaten you with legal action to rid myself of you. You were too stubborn though, weren’t you? You thought you could wring concessions from my son that you couldn’t wring from me.”
“Your husband’s natural children need some help from your family.”
“My husband was a national icon. He sired no bastards, and we owe your wards no duty. You are obsessed with your deranged ideas, but you must stop pestering us, and I’m weary of this discussion. Miss Gordon and I would like to be on our way.”
“I won’t write anything for you.”
“Fine.” Mrs. Sinclair turned to Miss Gordon. “Let’s go, Veronica. The afternoon has waned, and I’d just as soon not be out after dark.”
They started for the door, and Sarah was totally bewildered. Events were spiraling out of control too fast.
“But…but…what about Noah and Petunia?” Sarah stammered. “How will I locate them?”
“I’ve notified you as to how you can retrieve them,” Mrs. Sinclair said, “but I won’t dawdle and allow you to waste my time.”
“No, no, come back. I’ll write the letter.”
Sarah slid onto the chair, grabbed a piece of paper, and picked up a quill. She gazed expectantly at Mrs. Sinclair. The woman halted, but Miss Gordon continued out into the yard. Shortly, the outriders tromped in and began hauling out Sarah’s trunks.
Was she being evicted? Immediately? With evening about to arrive?
Mrs. Sinclair traipsed over and said, “My son will be away for several weeks.”
“Yes, Miss Gordon told me.”
“While he’s away, you will have disappeared. I doubt Sebastian will remember you were ever here, and in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he brings a new doxy home with him. I can’t have you lingering, and I won’t have him wishing you’d tarried.”
“He wouldn’t want me to leave,” Sarah insisted, when she ought to keep her mouth shut.
Mrs. Sinclair tsked with exasperation, as if Sarah was exceedingly stupid.
“Miss Robertson, listen to me. Veronica has requested a Christmas wedding, and I intend to plan it for her. We’ll have a month of balls and parties, then a grand ceremony at the end. Afterward, Sebastian and Veronica will retire to Hero’s Haven. Will you still be present? Will you shame Veronica? Will you disgrace yourself? Will my son be sneaking out of his marital bed to engage in sexual relations with you when his wife isn’t looking? Is that the future you envision for yourself?”
The horrid woman’s comments were pounding into Sarah like dull arrows. Had she really thought Sebastian would marry her? Well, no, she hadn’t thought he was serious. And his mother and his fiancée were verifying her worst fears.
“You can cease your harangue.” Sarah focused her attention on the blank sheet of paper. “What is it you’d like me to say?”
“Write a simple note. You can write, can’t you?”
“Probably better than you,” Sarah fumed.
“Don’t be impertinent. I don’t have to tolerate it on my own property.”
“Swear that you’ll deliver Noah and Pet to me after I’ve done as you’ve demanded.”
“Yes, I swear.”
Sarah felt trapped, overwhelmed, and very scared. Mrs. Sinclair appeared fierce and resolved, but absolutely treacherous too.
“What should I say?” Sarah repeated.
“Be concise: You made other arrangements for yourself, and you left because you weren’t about to let him ruin his life over you. He shouldn’t search—because you’ll never be found.”
Sarah penned exactly that, then she sanded the ink, and gave the letter to Mrs. Sinclair.
She scanned it, then smirked. “You were telling the truth. You can write.” She pointed to the door. “Come. There’s a carriage waiting for you, and your things have been loaded. We’re locking the house so don’t think about slithering back.”
“Where are Noah and Petunia?”
“They’re in London. My man will take you to them.”
Sarah was trembling so violently she could barely stand. She realized she shouldn’t display any weakness, but she couldn’t help it.
She didn’t trust Mrs. Sinclair, and she yearned to declare that she had the right to remain in the cottage, that Mrs. Sinclair couldn’t kick her out, but it wasn’t her place to quarrel over any issue. She couldn’t guess what authority Mrs. Sinclair had at the Haven. For all Sarah knew, perhaps it belonged to her rather than her son.
“I’ll find the children in London, won’t I?” Sarah asked as they walked out.
“You have my word on it.”
Sarah’s trunks were in the smaller vehicle. She went over and climbed in. None of the men assisted her. They merely glowered as if they’d been apprised of Sarah’s transgressions and viewed her as a terrible sinner.
Mrs. Sinclair followed her over, and at the last second, she handed Sarah a letter, and it had been addressed to her.
“What’s this?” Sarah asked.
/> “It’s from Sebastian.”
“What?” Sarah was incredibly confused, and with events so raw, she couldn’t puzzle it out. “He was aware that I’d be departing?”
“Yes. Be sure to read it. He couldn’t bear to inform you himself that it’s over between you. He hates goodbyes and never participates in them.”
Sarah scoffed. “So he had you deal with it?”
“I don’t care if you believe me or not. Just don’t ever show your face here again. Remember: You have your urchins to consider. If you cross me, any calamity could befall them. It’s a very dangerous world, isn’t it?”
Mrs. Sinclair nodded to the driver. He cracked the whip, and the horse lurched away so quickly that Sarah was nearly flung off the seat.
She steadied herself and managed a final glance at the cottage. Mrs. Sinclair and Miss Gordon were over by the door, watching as an outrider attached a chain to it. Then the sight was blocked as they raced into the woods.
She opened the letter that was supposedly from Sebastian.
I’m sorry for it to end like this, it said. I hope you can forgive me someday.
She was stunned. She was crushed. She was so angry she’d like to set the whole kingdom on fire.
She wadded his note into a ball and threw it out at the passing trees, and she blindly stared at the scenery, but she was too devastated to see anything at all.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ophelia was huddled in a cold, damp room at a decrepit coaching inn. She shivered and wrapped her cloak more tightly around her body. She’d never been more uncomfortable in her life. In fact, she’d never previously been uncomfortable.
She was twenty-two, and in her memories, all of those years had been passed pleasantly, in elegant surroundings.
It was raining outside, and their carriage had gotten stuck in the mud over and over. Judah didn’t have his own vehicle, plus there had been a need for stealth, so he’d rented one, and it had been operated by a hired driver and two hired men.
The driver hadn’t been terribly competent, and the two men hadn’t been overly keen on expending energy to repeatedly dig them out. Judah had been snappish, the three hired men surly and mutinous, and Ophelia freezing every second.
