Whatever could he want? She hadn’t seen the duke in ages, not since…not since Emberton and Albina’s fated win against Lord Satterfield’s gray at the annual derby.
She made her way toward the green sitting room and entered. “Your Grace.”
“Lady Sarah, it is a pleasure.” The duke’s blue eyes twinkled in the dappled light of the sunny space. As a receiving room, it was Sarah’s favorite. The painted green walls were just the right shade of sage to set a guest, and their host, at ease.
The duke offered Sarah a warm smile. “I am glad you received me.”
“Yes, of course.” He was, after all, both family and a duke. “To what do I owe this honor, Your Grace?”
“I was in the area and had upon me a book. I do know how much you fancy them.”
“You came to deliver a book?” This was unprecedented. And highly unusual.
“I did. This one, in fact.” He retrieved a leather volume from behind his back and presented it to her.
Frowning, Sarah took the book from his hands and glanced at the gold embossed title. “The Sententiae of Publilius Syrus.”
The duke nodded. “Have you heard of him?”
She, in fact, had read some of his aphorisms in a few of her readings. “I have.”
“Are you familiar with his past?”
“Only a little. I know…I know he was a Syrian slave, freed and educated by his Roman master.”
The duke deepened his smile. “Yes. And did you know why he was freed and educated?”
“He found favor with his master, Your Grace. With his wit and talent.”
The duke nodded approvingly. “Yes, he did.”
“Your Grace, while I appreciate your extreme generosity, I must confess I don’t understand the reasons behind it.”
“One need not have a reason to be generous, Lady Sarah. Though were I to give one, it would be because doing so makes me happy.”
She tilted her head. “Generosity inclines you to happiness.”
“Does it not make you feel the same?”
“I suppose.”
“I am equally generous with my recitations. My favorite sententia from Publilius is thus: ‘It matters not what you are thought to be, but what you are.’”
Her eyes narrowed as the impact of the words hit her in the deepest part of her chest. Had the duke come to mock her? Had her mother arranged this? To shake her from her melancholy? Or worse—had Jonathon gone to the duke for a favor? To see if he could instill some sort of reason into her? Well, she would not be made a fool.
“A wise sentiment, Your Grace. Did Mr. Annesley send for you?”
“Mr. Annesley?” he asked, with more than a hint of false innocence in his voice. “No. I sent for him.”
“You sent for him? Whatever for?”
The duke offered her another smile. “Because I wished to turn one of my London townhomes into a reformatory school for the improvement and reeducation of fallen and penitent women.”
Sarah gaped. Catching herself, she whispered, “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m entirely serious when it comes to the betterment of Society. I do not have patience for those who stand in the path of advancement.”
“But-but—”
“Of course, with a school, comes the need for teachers. Those who are educated in the ways of women and can impart skills necessary for a new way of life. It would do no good to educate these women only to have them fall back on old habits when hard times come upon them. They need a new method of employment.”
“Yes, of course, they do. But—”
“And I thought to myself, who better than to guide them but a woman? And one who knows the difference between a basil leaf and a licorice root.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. “You wish to employ me, Your Grace?”
“Not employ, my lady. You are an earl’s daughter, after all. And the soon to be wife of a future viscount. No, I thought you would be better placed to act as a mentor to those whose gift it is to instruct.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I do not wish to contradict you, but I believe you said, ‘soon to be wife of a future viscount.’ I am not engaged.”
“Not yet, anyway.”
A deep baritone sounded behind her. Sarah’s heart fluttered as she spun toward the familiar voice. Jonathon leaned against the doorframe, a roguish smile playing at his lips. “Jonathon,” she exclaimed. “What is this about?”
“You coming to terms with the fact that you love me.”
She flushed and cleared her throat. “My love for you was never in question.”
“Oh?” He pushed off from the frame and righted himself.
Sarah glanced back at the duke and then at Jonathon. “I love you, Jonathon. My love for you is why I wished for our separation. My reputation—”
“Is not of concern,” he interjected. “Truly.”
“Not if you wish to gain approval in the House of Lords,” she argued.
“His Grace has kindly offered to lend out his townhouse for my school. A vote is no longer necessary.”
“Yes, but your career, your platforms—will they not be hindered by my connection?”
“Might I answer this one?” asked the duke.
“Yes, please do, Your Grace,” said Jonathon. He motioned toward the man.
“I believe you recall your cousin, Daphne, my lady.”
“Of course,” she replied. “She is my family.”
“She is also from the former colonies and her father owns a shipping business. The same one I invest in. Heavily.”
Sarah nodded. Her cousin had arrived on England’s shores shortly after the second skirmish between their countries. She had despised England, her youngest brother having been taken captive and killed by a British captain. But her mother and Sarah’s mother were sisters, and her blood English—even if her birth deemed her American and her father’s business had removed her from polite society.
“She is also a duchess,” the duke continued. “And the mother of our son, the future Duke of Waverly.”
“Who is quite a dancer, should Sarah’s tales be believed,” Jonathon added.
Sarah shot him a quelling glare. “Everything you say is truth, Your Grace.”
“Does the duchess move in polite circles?” he asked.
“Of course,” said Sarah. “She is a duchess.”
“And you a future viscountess, should you marry Mr. Annesley.”
“But the comparison is unfair. She did not poison anyone. Nor does she find comfort in making wine.”
“No, but she does drink it and has recommended your wine to many of our guests.”
Sarah widened her eyes. “Surely without my accreditation.”
“We give credit where credit is due, my lady. Oh, and don’t forget the duchess is the lead accountant for her father’s business. She manages most of the books. Without payment. And for pleasure. You see, she has taken Publilius Syrus’s words to heart—it matters not what she is thought to be, but what she truly is. Now then, I must be going. I have a new future viscount to see—Lord Bonham’s son. The duchess is meeting me there. Oh, and Lady Sarah, mentors are rather hard to find. Should you decline, I’ll need some time to find another.”
“I-I-I—”
“I look forward to hearing from you soon.” He nodded toward Jonathon. “Mr. Annesley. I’ll have the papers drawn up for you on the townhouse and have my man send them to yours.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
He nodded and headed into the hall.
Sarah stood staring after him. What the devil had just happened? She peered at Jonathon, trying to make sense of it all.
“I’m not sure I know what to say,” she whispered.
“How about yes?”
“Yes? To what? A mentorship?”
“To being my wife?” He pulled her into him and kissed her brow.
“You wish to be with me, even after my behavior at Barrington?”
“I w
ish to be with you because of it, Sarah. To have a woman so willing to sacrifice her happiness for mine is someone I want by my side. Always.”
Her heart swelled as tears pricked at her eyes. “You must know—I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He pulled back and stared into her eyes. “Do you know why I started the campaign for the penitents in the first place?”
“You saw a need?”
“I saw you.”
She frowned and waited for him to continue. Which he did, with a smile. “You inspired me. You, with your intelligence, your books—your smile. I wanted others to know that happiness. You are the smartest woman I know, and I thought to make others see what happiness can be wrought from a good education.”
She inspired him? “You started a school because of me?”
“In part, yes. I made a promise, and I keep my promises. My mother received word of my cousin Elizabeth’s hardships. Elizabeth visited us as a child and benefitted from our association, until she met a young soldier who fancied her and took it upon himself to educate her in the ways of the world. Elizabeth was weak of heart, and she fell easily for the soldier’s tales.”
He brushed aside one of Sarah’s curls. “He deceived her. He had no more intention of marrying her than he did the next girl he courted and took to his bed. Only, Elizabeth was with child, and when he failed to offer his hand, she ran away in her shame, not wanting to darken her father’s position in the church and the village at large.” He let out a breath. “My mother learned of her story and I promised I would try to find her, which I did, eventually, after I spent months ignoring her request and focusing solely on my own selfish pursuits. I am not the innocent you believe me to be. I was reckless, interested only in the pleasure of drink and loose women. I was no better than my brothers and I am ashamed of my behavior.”
Sarah placed a hand over his, compassion glinting in her eyes. “But you found her?”
“At a seedy brothel in London’s East End, and only after death had claimed her and the child. I had to relay this to my mother, who was then at death’s door herself. She made me promise to start a school of reformation to give women like my cousin a second chance, a place to go when no one else would take them, to give them skills so they would not fall onto a life of sin as Elizabeth felt she had to do. She referenced you, Sarah. And told me what I came in time to know for myself: there is no one like you, dearest. And I’m afraid I’m rather attached to the original.”
She laughed through the stream of tears trickling down her face. She loved him.
And she loved herself. She wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but she was unique, and valued, and above all, she was happy.
“Thank you, Jonathon.” Sarah tossed her arms around his neck and buried her head in the crook of his neck.
“Does this mean you’ll think about my proposal?” he murmured through her hair.
“For once, there is no thinking.” She drew back and smiled. “Only answering. And yes.”
With a laugh, he kissed her. Senseless.
Epilogue
Two months later…
Late afternoon sunlight pooled through Covenan’s library windows. Easily her favorite room in the estate, Sarah found the rows of books as comforting as the casual furniture artfully arranged to entice the reader to sit for hours and soak up the scents of antiquated leather and paper whilst perusing the pages of long ago philosophers and romantics.
Propped against the pillows of a plump chaise-lounge, she allowed herself to doze after a particularly long night spent in the arms of her husband.
She near giggled at the happy thought. She a wife, and Jonathon her husband. With a smile tugging at her lips, she drifted into the lulls of slumber…and awoke to two hands shaking her shoulders.
“Sarah, dearest, I must speak with you. It is of the utmost importance.”
“Olivia?” Sarah mumbled. She blinked her eyes open to see her new sister tapping her foot against the carpet. “What is it? Are you well?”
“No, I am not well. I am frustrated, peeved, and under informed.”
“Well, then, I’d say you’ve come to the right place.”
“I know I have. It is where I am assured to find you.”
“Along with shelves of educational books, but yes, I am here, too,” she said with a smile. “How can I be of assistance?”
“You can start by being honest with me.”
Frowning, Sarah sat upright. “I always am.”
“As I thought, but I wanted to remind you of that wonderful trait when I pose my question.”
A sick feeling spread through her stomach. “Which is?”
“What is it like to be with a man?”
“I’m s-sorry?” Surely she had not heard her sister ask after a topic that was forbidden to maiden ears. Especially those of her husband’s sister.
“You know very well what I mean. Now that you’re married, I want you to tell me what my brothers refuse to talk about with me—the intimate relations between a man and a woman.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But you are my sister,” Olivia balked. “You tell me everything.”
“Everything that is decent. Might I remind you I am married to your brother? And whatever exists between a husband and his wife is sacred and private and not meant to be shared with younger, unmarried relations. Dear heavens.”
“Don’t be so prudish. I need to know.”
“To what end? Whatever you need to know will be explained by your husband.”
“But I don’t have a husband and I never will, should my father persist on his idea of sending me away to some convent on the continent.”
“You know he is not serious. He only wishes to protect you.”
“From what? What could possibly be so terrifying in a marriage that he wishes to keep me from it? I can only deduce it is the intimacies exchanged between husband and wife—or in the instance of my other brothers, a paramour and her customer.”
“Good God. Keep your voice low. Should your brother hear you—”
“Hear what?” asked Jonathon, strolling into the warm, and cozy room.
Olivia shot Sarah a pleading look. “Olivia’s request,” answered Sarah. “For…for another gown.”
He came behind Sarah and set his hands on her shoulders. “Another gown? But one arrived only yesterday.”
“Yes, well, the Duchess of Waverly’s musical soiree is next month. And I cannot wear the same gown to two events in such a short period of time.”
Sarah patted Jonathon’s hand. “You know how fashion is, darling. It is best to simply concede.” She sent Olivia a warning glare.
Offering a thin smile, Olivia nodded. “I do hope you’ll help me decide on the color. After dinner. Tonight. This very evening.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. Olivia was unrelenting, and would continue to be so until her question was answered. But Sarah could hardly do so herself. She was still learning the very ways her friend wished to know, and she wasn’t about to share them. Especially with her husband’s sister.
No. It would be best for Jonathon to take the lead on this one.
“Olivia, could you give us a moment?” Sarah asked.
“Of course.” She dipped into a curtsy. “I look forward to continuing our conversation later this evening.”
Jonathon dipped his head after she trailed away. “What was that about?”
His breath was warm on her neck, yet sent a shiver of excitement through her. “Oh, she wishes to know what precisely happens after a married couple closes their bedroom door.”
He jerked upright and looked after the spot where his sister had been. “She what?”
“She is the same age as I, Jonathon, and just as curious.”
“Which is why I hid our volume of The Kama Sutra in my chambers.”
“Yes, in between your ledgers. I enjoyed brushing them aside last evening as you set me atop the table.”
His emerald eyes darkened. “Is that so
? I can arrange for that to happen again.”
Sarah unleashed a smile. “I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Jonathon wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace. “You know I hate to disappoint.” He settled his lips over hers and made her very satisfied, indeed.
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Acknowledgments
A million thanks go to my editor, the fabulous Robin Haseltine for her uplifting support and unending encouragement. Your patience and kind words make the writing process the pleasure it’s meant to be.
The lovely ladies of my Bible study cheered me on when deadlines were near and I questioned my abilities. Thank you so much for your prayers and faith in my talents. I couldn’t have finished this book without you.
And Adam, your hugs and baking skills are greatly appreciated, especially where they pertain to chocolate cake. You are an amazing spouse whose words of confidence quiet my fears. Thank you for loving the crazy, sweetheart.
About the Author
Frances Fowlkes lives in South Carolina with her high school sweetheart, three red-headed sons, and a spoiled standard poodle. When not writing about ardent heroes or strong-willed heroines, she enjoys spending time with her family, fangirling, and planning her next vacation.
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The Gentleman's Promise (Daughters of Amhurst) Page 19
