Sarah scrubbed a bowl. “And these ladies live in… London?”
“Yes.”
“I cannot believe you and I didn’t meet in London.” She winced. “Did we?”
“No.” He chuckled. “I’m certain I would have remembered you.”
She expelled her breath. “I’m so relieved.”
“Difficult to keep track of everyone, eh?”
She nodded.
“And you don’t attend Almack’s?” he asked.
“I did. Once. It was hideous. As you said, tepid lemonade and even more tepid conversation.”
“Can’t that be said about most of thetonevents?” he drawled.
“Not if you know whom to speak to and whom to avoid.”
Christian cracked a smile. “I see. Something tells me I’ve chosen exactly the right person to assist me in becoming fashionable.”
Sarah returned his smile. “Indeed you have. I have little to recommend me, Mr. Forester. I’m not particularly well learned. I was rubbish at maths. I’m not a fine horsewoman and am abysmal at the pianoforte. But if you’re in need of someone who knows the way of thetonand its young ladies, you’ve found the right person, I can assure you.”
They finished washing the dishes, studiously avoiding each other’s eyes.
“I must see to Oberon,” Christian announced.
“Oberon?” Sarah blinked.
“Yes. My horse.”
The hint of a smile touched Sarah’s lips.
“What is it?” he asked. “Are you not an admirer of Shakespeare?”
“On the contrary.A Midsummer Night’s Dreamis my favorite of his works.”
“Is it?” Christian arched a brow. “Mine too. And you just finished telling me you’re not particularly well learned. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
“Well,readingis different.”
“Tell me. Why were you smiling?”
She bit her bottom lip. “I was smiling because my horse is also named Oberon.”
Christian’s eyebrows shot up. Contemplating that interesting bit of information, he pulled on his boots and overcoat and braced the freezing wind and snow to go to the barn to see to the horse. When he returned, he found Lady Sarah in the yard next to the front door, wrapped in a wool coat, ushering little Fergus II to a spot she’d obviously cleared in the snow so the dog might relieve himself. Apparently, she wasn’t even above seeing to the unmentionable needs of an animal. Full of surprises was this Lady Sarah Highgate.
“Did you make Fergus Two that coat?” he asked, pausing next to her.
“Yes,” Sarah replied.
“Why?”
“Because I thought he might be cold, of course,” she said, giving Christian a look that told him she thought the question a bit daft. She sauntered ahead of him back into the house, and Christian tried to ignore the swing of her hips.
When they got inside, Christian closed the door behind them. They stamped the snow from their feet, hung up their cloaks, and removed their boots. Fergus II wiped his paws on the rug accordingly and trotted over to his little bed near the fire. He paced around in a circle a few times before curling up into a tight ball.
