“Mrs. Hamilton is lovely,” she added, wanting to change the subject again. Why had she even brought up his title yet again?
“Yes, sometimes she treats me as if she were my mother.”
The lump was back in Sarah’s throat. “She said your mother died when you were a child. I’m very sorry.”
He shook his head and turned to look out the window. He narrowed his eyes on something in the distance. “That was a long time ago.”
“But no doubt it’s still painful for you to—”
“You should get some rest. We’ll be in Bath by nightfall.”
Sarah nodded, still struggling to swallow the lump. He obviously didn’t want to discuss his mother. She pulled the blankets to her neck and settled against the side of the coach. She closed her eyes, hoping she hadn’t dredged up painful memories for this man who’d been nothing but kind to her.
Her fitful dreams were filled with Berkeley family portraits and the image of Christian’s mother’s face staring back at her from the locket.
***
They did indeed make it to Bath by nightfall. The sun had just set as they made their way up the cobbled streets of the hill town. Sarah was thankful that they would be making their appearance under cover of night. There would be fewer people to potentially see her. They’d already decided to drive up to the back of Mr. Upton’s house. Sarah had given the coachman the letter from Lucy and asked him to deliver it to Jane Upton herself. As soon as the coach pulled to a stop behind the house, the man leaped down, scurried up to the back door, and rapped on it three times.
The door soon opened, and after some discussion between the coachman and whichever servant had opened the door, there was a bit of waiting while the letter was obviously delivered to Jane.
Sarah sat up straight in the coach, her knees bouncing, nerves flooding through every bit of her body. Would Jane Upton accept her or think her friend Lucy had sent a hoyden to her door? Would Lucy’s outrageous plan even have a chance of working?
“You’ve nothing to worry about,” Christian said. “Jane will take excellent care of you. She’s quite nice.”
“I’ve no doubt,” Sarah replied, knees still bouncing. “But I cannot help my nerves.”
“I understand,” Christian replied. He reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, settling her bouncing knees. Sarah didn’t look at him. Instead, she concentrated on regulating her breathing, but she allowed him to hold her hand. It felt so warm. So warm and strong and nice. So reassuring. No one had ever made her feel so safe before. Certainly not her parents. All they’d ever done was add to her anxiety.
Several minutes later, the coachman returned and rapped on the door to the coach. Christian opened the window, and a rush of cold air filtered through it, making Sarah shudder. His hand squeezed hers more tightly.
“The missus says to come in, me lady,” the coachman announced, flicking up the collar on his wool coat.
Sarah gulped and nodded. This was it. The coach door opened, and after the stairs had been let down, the coachman took her hand and led her down. Two of Jane Upton’s footmen were already unloading her trunk (filled with Lucy’s clothing and some of Sarah’s undergarments) from the back of the coach. She turned to Christian, who remained in the coach. “Aren’t you coming?”
He shook his head and Sarah’s stomach plummeted.
“No,” he replied. “This is where I must leave you. It wouldn’t do for us to be seen together. You’ll be much safer in the company of only the ladies from now on.”
Sarah nodded and swallowed. Of course. That made perfect sense. Why hadn’t she realized this would be the case? She should have said more, thanked him more. Now there was no time.
“Thank you,” she blurted. “Thank you for everything, my lord.”
She held out a hand to him, and he took it and kissed it, sending a rush of heat up her arm. “Best of luck to you, Lady Sarah.”
She searched his shadowed face. “When you come to London, for the Season… I’ll be there. I’ll help.”
His bright smile would visit her in her dreams. “Ah, yes. To turn me into alegend. Isn’t that the plan?”
All she could do was nod.
“I fear I’ll need all the help I can get.” Christian gestured to the coachman to indicate that he was ready to leave.
More words, words likeI’ll never forget you,hovered on Sarah’s lips, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them.Someday, some lady is going to be a very lucky wife indeed.But she couldn’t say those words either. Instead, she stepped back, stood in the alleyway, and watched as the coachman pushed up the stairs, slammed the door, and hopped back onto his perch. Then Lord Christian Berkeley’s coach took off out of the alley and into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Days later, Christian was back in Northumbria. He’d decided not to return to Scotland for reasons he couldn’t quite determine and didn’t care to examine too closely. He would spend the rest of the winter at his estate. There was always plenty of business to attend to, and this time he threw himself into his affairs with a single-minded determination that could only be the result of an attempt to block something (or someone) from his memory.
