“You must take care of yourself now, Florie.”
Florie smiled. “A smooth carriage ride will not hurt me, Lady Sarah. My mam had seven of us and worked the whole time.”
“She didn’t work for me,” Sarah said. “If she had, she’d have taken better care of herself.”
A shadow flitted over Florie’s face. “It wouldn’t be proper for you to go off on your own, Lady Sarah.”
“Nonsense,” Sarah said, smiling. “I’m a married woman now. I can do as I choose.”
That statement wasn’t entirely true, but she kept asmile on her face as she hustled Florie from the room with hopeful words and cautions not to overdo it. She watched as her maid walked to the servants’ stair. Where would they live? In their snug little apartment above the stable? With a child? Chavensworth’s accommodations for its staff did not run to cottages, but perhaps it was something she could arrange. Or a suite of rooms, perhaps, on the fourth floor. But Chavensworth wasn’t hers, and any arrangements Sarah made could be easily overturned by the Duke of Herridge.
She sat on the edge of the bed, knowing that sleep would come late tonight, if at all. Yet she needed to be rested for the journey, for the meeting with Alano, and for the news she might receive, however terrible it might be.
When had she fallen in love? Was that what she felt? This horrible, yawning cavern inside her chest, what was that? Not the same kind of grief she felt for her mother, but something different. As if her heart had begun to shrivel or turn to stone.
She lay back on the bed, staring up at the tester.
In less than a month, Douglas had changed her life. Yes, he’d brought her passion, but he’d also brought her tenderness. He’d amused her, and touched her heart, and held her when she’d cried. He’d been loyal to her, and at her side, accompanying her on her errand to Scotland. He’d demanded that each member of her staff work on his own, in a way she’d never before considered, but only to spare her tasks she sometimes found onerous.
He was stubborn, intelligent, and given to striding around naked more often than not. Yet he’d let her see his vulnerability.It’s where I write those things I learn. So that I don’t forget. He’d seen the world, but she hadthe feeling that he’d never be complacent with past deeds. Douglas would want to learn more and do more throughout the whole of his life. Living with him would be a passionate, tumultuous adventure.
And living without him? What would that be like?
Chapter 31
On Friday, Sarah dressed in one of her favorite ensembles, along with her newest set of gloves, and one of her mother’s favorite hats, all of which had been dyed black for her mourning.
The journey to London marked the first time Sarah had traveled to the city and been so acutely aware of every aspect of the journey and the time it took. Normally, her interest was captivated by a conversation, a book, her journal, or even the passing of the scenery. Now, however, nothing seemed to make the trip faster or ease the uncomfortable knot in the middle of her stomach.
She’d given the coachman, a very capable young man named Edmunds, Alano’s address in London. He’d promised to find it, and she’d only nodded, knowing that it was common to become lost in London more often than not. To her surprise, however, he drove straight to the square located not far from her father’s home.
“It’s a very fashionable place, Lady Sarah,” he said, helping her from the carriage.
His comment only spurred more questions, but shehad a more important task at the moment than to inquire of her coachman’s past.
Edmunds preceded her up the stairs and knocked forcefully on the door.
Sarah looked around the square surreptitiously, surprised at the prosperity of the place. A small square park sat in front of the house, enticing a visitor to sit on the wooden benches or take a walk beside the blooming flower beds. An ornate iron fence enclosed the park. If this was like the Duke of Herridge’s home, the occupants of the adjoining houses had keys to the gate.
Alano was wealthier than she’d imagined.
The door was opened by a young blond man attired in a leather apron and smelling of vinegar.
“Yes?” he asked, looking down his not-inconsiderable nose at them. “Who are you?”
He looked first at Edmunds, then at Sarah, and finally at the coach with the ducal crest sitting in front of the steps to the town house. If anything changed his mind on how to address them, it was not politeness as much as the carriage. He whipped off the apron and bowed too deeply.
“May I assist you?”
“I have come to see Alano McDonough,” Sarah said. “Is he at home?”
“May I announce you?”
Contrary to Douglas’s comments, she didn’t often tout her title. But something about this young man made her want to do so. If she’d been a duchess, so much the better. The daughter of one would have to suffice.
“Lady Sarah Eston,” she said. “Of Chavensworth.”
Again, she had the impression it was not so much her person as what accompanied her—in this instance,the mention of Chavensworth—that impressed the young man.
