by Darcy Burke
She cut across the lawn instead and mentally chided herself for not bringing a hat, for it was both warm and bright. Indeed, she’d begun to perspire, so she slowed her pace. She ought to return to the house for a bath, particularly to clean herself up from earlier.
She stopped and closed her eyes, allowing the enormity of what she’d done to settle on her shoulders. Guilt and shame threatened, but why should she surrender to those emotions?
Because that was what her mother would want her to feel. Her throat began to clog.
“Miss Colton?”
The feminine voice rescued Sarah from falling into a well of despair. She opened her eyes and blinked against the bright afternoon. “Mrs. Vane?”
“Please, call me George.” The woman’s warm smile gave Sarah a dose of much-needed comfort. “You forgot your hat.” She was still smiling, which made it feel like they were sharing a joke.
“I did, which is rather ironic.”
George cocked her head. “Is it?”
“I design hats. It’s bizarre to be out without one, but for me, it’s almost a crime.”
“I am terrible at fashion,” George said, gesturing to her dull brown dress. “I rarely have need of it, of course, in my profession.”
Profession. George was a woman with employment. “How is it to work?” Sarah asked.
George shrugged. “I enjoy what I do, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’d like to open a millinery shop.”
“Oh!” George’s eyes widened with surprise. “The shop in Vigo Lane? Felix had me organize his inspection of the property, and I communicated with his solicitor about the lease. I didn’t realize the shop was for you. He didn’t say.”
Sarah marveled at the woman’s capability and felt a stab of envy. It sounded as though Felix relied on her. That had to feel…good. “You call him Felix.”
“We’ve known each other since we were children. We used to fish in the pond together and swing from the willow tree. I tried calling him Lord Ware after he became the earl, but he forbade me from doing so. In truth, at thirteen, no boy should be called ‘lord’ anything unless it’s Lord Idiot.”
Sarah laughed. “I’m very glad I ran into you. Do you mind if I accompany you on your walk?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to return for a hat?”
“No, I’m rather enjoying the warm sun.” She’d probably have a few freckles for her trouble tomorrow, but who would care?
“I’m just on my way to visit my mother,” George said. “You’re welcome to join me.”
“I’d like that, thank you.” Sarah moved forward, and George joined her. “Where is the steward’s house?” She hadn’t been there.
“Pardon me for the confusion,” George said with a hint of apology. “My mother passed away two years ago. She’s buried in the Ware plot, and I’m going to pay my respects.”
And just like that, the sadness Sarah had worked to keep at bay came rushing back, tightening her throat.
George lightly touched her arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you. This must be a difficult time.”
That Sarah had only seemed to complicate. “I thought it was getting better, but…” She let her voice trail off before it broke.
“My mother was ill,” George said as they walked up a gentle slope. “I knew she was going to die, but that didn’t make it any easier.”
“My parents were murdered.” Sarah’s voice was soft but firm, for which she was grateful. “But you probably know that. We were completely unprepared for…this.”
“I did know, and I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m sure Felix has done his best to ease your suffering. He’s exceptionally good at that.”
“Yes,” Sarah murmured. She knew George couldn’t possibly realize the extent to which Felix had eased her, and she certainly didn’t plan to tell her. Unless they married. Sarah couldn’t hide that.
Was she considering his proposal? If one could call that a proposal.
As they crested the hill, the graveyard came into sight. There was, in fact, a small stone building. “Is that a church?”
“I suppose it is,” George said. “Though it’s only used for burials. It houses the Ware family crypt. My mother is buried outside.”
Sarah’s heart twisted. She hadn’t yet visited her mother’s tomb at Oaklands. She hadn’t attended the burial, of course, and she hadn’t wanted to see it. She should. Perhaps soon.
“Are Felix’s parents in there?” Sarah asked as they descended the hill.
“Yes, but he never visits.”
“Why?” It was a beautiful place nestled at the base of a hill, with a pair of large oak trees standing sentinel and patches of wildflowers dotting the landscape.
“I think because he never knew his mother. He just doesn’t feel a connection with her.”
“But surely he did with his father?” She recalled what he’d said about forgetting and wondered if maybe George remembered.
“Not really. The earl drank to excess—pardon, to me, Felix’s father is the earl.” She moved toward one of the groupings of cowslips, daisies, and cranesbill. “I’m just going to pick some flowers for my mother.”
Sarah trailed along after her, though she was intensely curious about Felix’s father and wanted to go into the church to see his tomb, as well as Felix’s mother’s. She couldn’t keep from asking about the former earl. “So Felix wasn’t close to his father?” Had his passion for drink prevented a familial relationship? And was it that Felix didn’t want to remember as opposed to not being able to?
“Not really. The earl was nearly always melancholy. My mother said he never got over losing his wife.” She bent to pluck a handful of stems. “It’s sad when you think about it. I’m not sure how I would carry on without Mr. Vane. I would, because I must, but it would be difficult. Far more difficult than losing my mother, I think, whom I miss every day.”
There was no mistaking the love in George’s tone, both for her husband and her mother. “To have so much love in one’s life is truly a gift. You’re very lucky,” Sarah said softly.
George gave her a warm smile. “I am fortunate. And grateful. I’ve been fortunate to have Felix too. Aside from giving me an opportunity no other man would give a woman, he’s been an incredible support and friend. When my mother died, he was always there with kindness and laughter for me and my father. But that’s his nature.”
It was indeed, but Sarah began to think there was a reason for it. “I imagine you did the same for him when his father died.”
George gathered the flowers she’d picked and led Sarah toward the churchyard. “Of course, though it wasn’t that necessary. Honestly, the earl’s death was a relief to all of us.”
“He wasn’t sad?” Sarah struggled to understand how that could be. She didn’t always agree with her parents, and Lord knew their relationship had been strained of late, but she couldn’t imagine feeling relieved or not being sad.
“Not that he showed, but you know how he is.” George stepped through the gate into the churchyard, and Sarah reached to hold it open.
Yes, she knew how he was, and now she was beginning to understand. She tried to think of a time when he’d expressed any strong emotion—anger, disappointment, sadness…love.
Sarah stood back while George went to her mother’s grave. After laying the flowers in front of the headstone, she spoke softly—words Sarah couldn’t hear and didn’t try to. Then she put her hand to her lips and pressed her fingertips against the headstone. Sarah’s throat closed, and tears stung her eyes.
She turned and made her way to the church. Circling around to the front of the building, she pushed open the door and stepped into the dim interior. One large window over the door provided most of the light, but smaller windows were set at intervals along the sides. There were two rows of pews on either side facing the aisle, and the altar stood at the opposite end.
George came in behind her. “The Ware tomb is behind the altar. Do you want to see it?”
Was she truly considering marriage? She’d already refused him. Surely he was basking in relief, and she had no expectation he’d ask again.
“If you think it’s all right,” Sarah answered.
“Of course.”
Sarah followed George down the aisle and behind the altar. The tombs were stacked within the wall with the names and dates etched on the face of each one.
George moved to the right and gestured toward the floor. “Here are Felix’s parents.”
Sarah squatted down to read their names—his father on the bottom and his mother above him. Mary Ware had died on July first. “The day after tomorrow will be the anniversary of her death.”
George nodded. “Felix’s birthday, of course.”
Blinking, Sarah rose. “I hadn’t put the two together, but of course it is.” Because she’d died giving birth to him. “I just realized I’ve never known when Felix’s birthday is.”
The only reason it stuck out to her was because Felix never failed to remember her birthday or Anthony’s. Or anyone else he considered a close friend. In fact, she recalled the birthday celebration he orchestrated when Anthony turned twenty-one. She’d only heard about it, of course, because she certainly hadn’t been invited.
She suddenly wanted to do something nice for him, as he’d always done for everyone else. “We should have a party to celebrate since we’re here—and Lavinia and Beck.”
George shook her head. “I don’t think he’d care for that.” Then she shrugged, seeming to change her mind. “Maybe ask him about it.”
“I will.” Sarah was more curious about him than ever. She looked at the names on the stone another moment and then told George she was ready to go.
“Are you going back to the house?” George asked as they made their way from the church.
She probably should, but she wasn’t particularly looking forward to seeing Felix or Anthony. She did, however, want to talk with Lavinia.
Had she and Beck heard Anthony yelling? Or hitting Felix? Sarah flinched as she recalled the punch and hoped Felix was all right. She hadn’t even asked before she’d fled the house.
House… George had asked her if she was going back there. “Eventually,” Sarah said with a vague smile. “It’s such a lovely day.”
“I’m on my way to see my father. You’re welcome to come along—I’m enjoying your company.” She flashed another warm smile, and Sarah thanked her for the invitation.
It was a ten-minute walk to the steward’s cottage, a charming two-story home with a thatched roof. Set back behind the stables, it was no wonder Sarah hadn’t seen or been to it. Nor did she have reason to seek it out, of course. “This is where you grew up?” Sarah asked.
“Yes. Close enough to the stables that I made myself a nuisance so that when Felix learned to ride, I did too.”
“Are you the same age?” Sarah had thought George to be younger than Felix’s twenty-eight years.
“Nearly. I’ll be twenty-eight early next year.”
“You and Felix really did grow up together.”
“I suppose we did. Until Felix went off to Eton. Your brother went there too, didn’t he?”
Sarah nodded. Her mind drifted to Anthony. She couldn’t avoid seeing him. She needed to make him understand why she shouldn’t marry Felix because of what happened.
Sarah stopped on the path. “I should get back to the house. Thank you so much for allowing me to accompany you.”
George paused and turned to face her. “It was my pleasure. I hope we can do it again. If you decide to talk to Felix about his birthday, please let me know what he says—and if I can help with anything. I’d love to do something nice for him for once.”
“I would too.” Sarah smiled, then turned and headed back to the house, grateful for the shade on this part of the path.
As she rounded the corner of the stables to turn toward the house, she nearly ran into Martin Havers, Felix’s uncle. She stopped short before they could collide.
“Goodness, I’m afraid I was walking rather quickly there,” he said jovially. “I beg your pardon.”
“It’s quite all right,” Sarah said, returning his smile and intending to carry on.
He frowned at her bare head. “Whatever happened to your hat?”
“It blew away.”
He appeared confounded. “But there’s hardly a breeze.”
“I was joking.”
“Ah.” He didn’t crack a smile, nor did he move out of her way. “It’s been so different to have you and your brother here, and now there are more of you.”
Sarah found his observation strange. It wasn’t as if Martin spent time at the house. Aside from the dinner when they’d first arrived, she hadn’t seen him. Why would he find their presence “different” or otherwise? She couldn’t think of how to respond.
“I imagine you’ll be staying as long as you can.” His forehead creased. “I hope you don’t have any unrealistic expectations where Felix is concerned.”
What the devil was he talking about? Sarah blinked. “I don’t believe I do,” she said hesitantly.
“That’s comforting to hear. I did wonder, given the way you look at him. You must know he’ll never marry.”
“Everyone knows that.” She couldn’t quite keep all the derision from her tone.
Martin exhaled, then smiled in a thoroughly condescending fashion. “That’s good to hear. Just looking out for my nephew, you understand.”
No, she didn’t understand. “I don’t think you are. I think you’re looking out for your son. If Felix marries, and presumably sires an heir, your son won’t inherit as you intend.” Sarah wondered if Martin had planted the idea of not marrying into Felix’s mind years ago, maybe even as soon as his father had died.
Martin’s eyes widened, and his lips moved, but the only sound that came out was a series of gasps. Finally, he managed, “You forget yourself!”
“I think you do. As it happens, Felix has proposed marriage, and I’ve accepted.” The words flew from her mouth before she could think better of it.
His eyes, already wide and large to begin with, practically fell out of his head. “You just said everyone knows he will never marry!”
“I was being polite in the face of your presumption and rudeness. I’d planned to let Felix tell you our news, but I find I can’t contain myself.”
“It’s never going to happen. I don’t know what spell you’ve woven to bring this about, but he’s absolutely committed to remaining unwed.”
“Not anymore.” She gave him a final glare, then stepped around him as she hurried toward the house.
Heart pounding, she wondered what the hell she’d just done. Had she changed her mind about marrying him? Apparently so. But what if he didn’t want to marry her?
Of course he didn’t want to marry her—he’d only proposed because Anthony had caught them together. She’d refused because she knew he didn’t want to.
Only she did.
The realization slowed her gait as she neared the rear door that led into the saloon. When she thought of the rest of her life alone, specifically without Felix, well, she didn’t want to think about that. What she did want was to marry him. Because she was in love with him.
Chapter 13
It was an uncomfortable sensation, the feeling that he’d done something wrong—which he had—and that he couldn’t fix it. Which he likely could not. His friendship with Anthony was ruined and his… What did he have with Sarah? Friendship? Yes, they’d had that. But it had all changed after that kiss at Darent Hall.
Goddammit.
He hated feeling like this. He’d spent his youth in a constant state of upset, his insides in knots, worrying about his father’s next outburst and knowing he was powerless to stop it. Then he’d spent his entire life since his father’s death doing everything possible to ensure he
never experienced that feeling of helplessness again. And here he was, fraught and frayed, all because of his cock.
No, it was more than that. Sarah was more than that. But God, he didn’t want her to be.
Think, Felix, think.
He paced his dressing chamber. There had to be a way to divert the situation, to persuade Anthony that all would be well. He didn’t have to worry about Sarah. She’d declined his proposal.
He stopped. He didn’t have to worry about her? Hell, he’d stolen her innocence.
Did he really think that? He’d behaved like a blackguard, but he wasn’t entirely to blame. He scrubbed his hand over his face, wishing he could erase the entire day.
Vane stuck his head into the dressing room. “Miss Colton is asking to see you. What should I tell her?”
Felix looked down at himself as if he couldn’t recall his state of dress. And maybe he couldn’t. He was nearly ready for dinner as it turned out.
“Your coat is there,” Vane said, helpfully gesturing toward the garment hanging on the door of the armoire.
Felix took it from the hook and thrust his arm into one sleeve. Vane came forward to provide assistance.
“Where is she?” Felix asked.
“Just outside.”
“I’ll meet her,” Felix said, pressing his lips together in a grim frown.
“You may not wish to look as if you’re marching off to your doom,” Vane suggested.
“I’ll try,” Felix muttered. He made his face impassive before he stepped out of his chamber into the outer reception area that led to the end of the long gallery that spanned the first floor.
Sarah looked every bit as tormented as he felt, her face pinched into lines, her hands clasped together. Christ, what had they done to each other?
He went to her and took her hand, unable to stop himself from trying to ease her pain. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything?” Her lips curved into a small smile, and miraculously, he felt himself relax just a bit. She touched his cheek, causing him to wince. “I was going to ask if it hurts, but I think you just answered that question.”
