If he’d been married for months, instead of only weeks, he’d have felt a little more secure in explainingto Sarah exactly what her father had planned. Not only was their marriage tenuous because of how it had occurred, but Sarah had been through enough in the past month. She didn’t need to know the extent of her father’s perfidy.
These past weeks had only accentuated what he’d felt for her from the beginning. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe. He wanted to give her pleasure more than he wanted it for himself. In the night, when he couldn’t sleep, when dreams beckoned yet couldn’t capture him, he wanted to speak to her in hushed tones in the shadows. He wanted to tell her what it was truly like being Douglas Eston from Perth, Scotland. He wanted to share with her feelings he’d never shared with another living soul, not even Alano.
If he left now, he could make it to London in two hours, speak to his solicitor, and at least ease his mind about the duke’s ability to end his marriage. In addition, there must be some way to get out of his agreement with His Grace. No money had exchanged hands, only the very precious hand of the duke’s daughter.
The best view of the observatory and the western fields was from the Duchess’s Suite. Sarah stood on the terrace, watching the footmen douse the grass around the building and where the furnace had been. The fire had been extinguished, but Douglas had returned and was now directing people and equipment. Alano and a few of the other men dragged the diamond frames from the observatory, while still others removed the jars and jugs.
Could anything be salvaged?
The explosion could have killed them both.
If he hadn’t entered the observatory, Douglas would have been right there in the midst of the explosion.
She glanced down at the garden, her mother’s garden with the luckinbooth. Perhaps it was because she was standing at this angle, but the luckinbooth didn’t look like two hearts intertwined and topped with a crown. She walked to the other side of the terrace and looked at the hedges again.
A moment later, Sarah left the room, intent on her own chamber. Grabbing her journal and her pencil, she returned to the Duchess’s Suite, slowly sketching what she saw both from the doorway and from the far end of the terrace. Only when she was finished was she certain—the luckinbooth wasn’t two hearts, but two entwined initials. Two Ms—for Michael and Morna?
Douglas went to the stables and gave orders for the carriage to be readied.
“I’ll be happy to drive you, sir,” Tim said from behind him.
Douglas turned. “I’m going to London, Tim, and I’ve a mind to be back before nightfall.”
Tim nodded. “That suits me well enough, sir. Are you ready to leave now?”
Douglas looked over to where two boys stood laughing at the corner of one stall. He motioned one of them over, gave him an errand to perform, before turning to Tim.
“I’ll be ready in a quarter hour,” he said.
In actuality, it was less than that. Alano came walking through the stable doors ten minutes later, his valise in his hand and Douglas’s jacket slung over his arm.
“Time was,” Alano said, “I’d have to remind you tobe proper dressed. It’s good I don’t have to train you anymore.” He handed Douglas his jacket with a smile. “If you’re going to London, I’ll follow you.”
Douglas glanced down at the valise in his friend’s hand.
“There’s no need for you to leave, Alano.”
“Yes, there is,” Alano said. “I’ll not howl at her door like a lovesick puppy.”
Douglas raised an eyebrow but didn’t make a comment. He’d never before seen his friend in such a mood over a woman. Perhaps it was something about Chavensworth, but he didn’t think so. The two of them had simply found the only two women in the world capable of twisting their guts into frenzied snakes.
“Then I’ll be glad of the company,” Douglas said.
Alano gave orders for the second carriage, the one he’d arrived at Chavensworth in, to follow them. The coachman looked ecstatic to be returning to London.
Douglas signaled to Tim, and he and Alano climbed inside the first carriage. They were on their way to London less than an hour after he had made his decision.
Sarah walked back into her mother’s room. The tall windows had heavy burgundy drapes shut against the bright summer day, but she didn’t open them.
Slowly, she walked toward the secretary her mother had used until she’d become too ill. Sitting on the high-backed chair in front of the desk, she pulled open the bottom right drawer. She could remember the first time her mother had shown her the secret compartment.
“What’s in there, Mama?”
“Mama’s jewels, dearling.”
Although she’d been a little girl, she’d known her mother kept her rings and brooches in the small casket in the bottom of the armoire, but she’d not argued. She’d been old enough to know that a good daughter never questioned.
The drawer held unremarkable items—a porcelain potpourri container that still managed to scent the drawer with roses after all this time, another small jar that had once held ink, now dry. A silver rocker blotter, and a selection of nibs. One by one, she removed all the items, placing them on the surface of the secretary. Once the drawer was empty, she reached toward the back and, using her nail, slid the false bottom toward her and lifted it.
