That seemed so fast to him. That a few weeks of comfort after his father’s death could lead to such a powerful connection.
He fiddled with the cover of his father’s final journal as he considered it. “It feels different,” he said.
Hugh shrugged. “That’s how you know.”
To avoid the subject, Kit flipped open the journal absently. He expected it to have a date on the first page, a launch into minute details of his father’s day, anecdotes about his life that almost made him seem alive again.
But instead, there was something else scrawled across the top of the first page in his father’s familiar handwriting. Something that made Kit straighten up and stare.
Hugh cocked his head. “What is it? You look troubled.”
“This…” Kit blinked a few times. “This isn’t a journal.”
“Then what is it?”
“A list,” Kit breathed, and slid the book closer.
Hugh laughed. “What did he always say?A life of lists is a life well lived.”
Kit shook his head. “Told you that, too, did he?”
“He did. I took it to heart. Amelia is always teasing me about my never-ending lists that she stumbles over on my desk and in the bedroom and in my pockets.” Hugh’s smile widened. “So what is this particular list about?”
Kit pointed. “It is titled ‘Kit’s Foolishness.’”
Hugh leaned forward. “It is not! What did he feel you were being foolish over?”
“He likes the girl,” Kit read from the scrawl beneath the title. “Whether he admits it or not. I am compiling this list of each time he mentions her to prove it to him when the time is right.”
“The girl?” Hugh repeated. “Who did he mean?”
“Sarah,” Kit choked as he looked over the list of detailed recounting of his interactions with her. “And the date of the first mention is in 1809, a year before the nastiness with Meg.”
“Mr. Smith was a very…w-wor—wort—”
“Worthy,” Sarah encouraged absently as she listened to Phoebe read along in her copy ofThe History of Little Goody Two-Shoes. It was part of her lesson for the morning. Normally Sarah would have enjoyed this time together.
Today, she couldn’t stop thinking. Just a few hours ago, she had been in Kit’s bed. In his arms. The soreness of her muscles reminded her of that every time she moved, but it was a delicious pain that made her recall every moment.
There had been passion there. Pleasure. She had given him something that no other man could ever take, even if she did find someone else she ever wanted to share herself with. She couldn’t regret that. She wouldn’t.
Even if she knew it wouldn’t last. Couldn’t. And that ending things as she had was better for everyone involved.
“What is this word, Sarah?” Phoebe asked, holding up the book.
Sarah blinked and pushed away her inappropriate thoughts as she leaned in and looked where her charge was pointing.
“Charitable,” she said. “That one is difficult. Remember thatcandhtogether make thechsound, yes?”
“Ch-ch-ch,” Phoebe repeated with a wide smile.
“And we should end there this morning—you did a wonderful job. But it’s time for us to get ready to say goodbye to your houseguests. Some of them are leaving this morning and the rest this afternoon. Except for the Duke and Duchess of Willowby.”
Phoebe’s expression fell and she set her book aside with a thud. “I don’t want them all to go.”
Sarah nodded. “I understand. It’s been lovely having so many friends here during such a sad time. For you and for your brother.”
Phoebe sighed. “And I’ll miss the babies.”
