Mrs. Hamilton, of course, peppered him with questions about Sarah when they were alone, but he was able to brush them off and continue about his business. The winter was harsh, yet he spent it riding out to oversee his lands, meeting with his estate agent, and speaking with a variety of his tenants. At night, when he’d returned to Berkeley Hall, he read or carved a pipe he’d begun working on. It was to be a wedding gift for Cass’s brother, Owen. Damn fool had done the right thing and asked the lovely Lady Alex to marry him.
Christian also wrote a few letters to friends and did his best to forget about Sarah Highgate. She wasn’t for him. She was someone who relished Society, loved dancing, parties, balls. She was someone who was in her element in London Society. It made no sense that he’d been wildly attracted to her in the first place. He must put her out of his mind. He especially tried not to imagine what might be happening to her and her reputation in London. It didn’t matter, did it? He’d done all he could do for her. She was in Lucy’s hands now. Lucy’s more than capable hands.
The first letter from Lucy arrived several weeks after his return to Northumbria. The first time he attempted to open it, Christian dropped the blasted thing out of nervousness. He scooped it up off the rug in his study and broke the seal with a brass letter opener.
Dearest Berkeley,
I do hope this letter finds you well and pleasantly settled for the winter. I am pleased to report that our darling Lady Sarah is happily back in the good graces of the fickleton. I daresay a few well-placed rumors begun by the right people are all that are necessary to turn this town on its ear. It’s quite ridiculous, actually.
I’m less happy to report that Sarah’s wedding to Lord Branford is still planned. Sarah seems resigned to it, but I have my doubts how happy she is. Her mother proved to be exceedingly reasonable when confronted with my plan to return Sarah to her place in Society, but exceedingly less reasonable when told why her daughter had left to begin with. Seems the earl and countess are entirely intent upon the match. Parents can be so foolish at times. Please remind me of this when Derek and I have a child of marriageable age. But don’t tell Jane I said it. No doubt she’ll use it against me to great effect one day.
At any rate, I’ve spoken to Sarah at length on several occasions and she declares that she has no desire to defy her parents again. She’s quite resigned to her fate. So, count yourself another win for helping a damsel in distress, my lord. You’ve got a sterling reputation. Alex and Owen’s wedding is planned for Spring, as is Daphne and Rafe’s. I do hope you’ll make it back to town for the Season, if only to attend the weddings.
Yours sincerely, et cetera,
Lucy
P.S. I daresay you should destroy this communication as to obliterate any inkling that we had anything to do with Sarah’s reentry into Society. Not to mention it seems extremely clandestine and spy-like and you know how much I’ve always wanted to be a spy. Alas, Rafe Cavendish has never agreed to properly train me. Perhaps I might work on his twin brother, Cade. Nowthere’sa man who has secrets.
Christian expelled his breath. He read the letter once more before he folded it, crossed the thick Aubusson carpet to the fireplace, and tossed it inside. So it was done, then. Sarah was back in theton’s good graces and still engaged to her marquess. Christian should be happy for her. He was glad to have been of assistance. That was his forte, after all. Just like Lucy’s uncanny ability to carry out outlandish plots. So why wasn’t he happy for Sarah? Why had it felt as if he’d been punched in the gut when he’d read that her wedding was still being planned?
He scrubbed a hand across his face and tentatively fingered his shaggy beard, which for some reason he still couldn’t bring himself to shave. Sarah had never seen him without it. He immediately cursed himself for the thought. What did that matter? He braced an arm against the fireplace mantel. Hewouldbe returning to London in the spring. It would be rude of him to miss the weddings of his friends. Sarah’s wedding, however, might be a different case entirely. He wasn’t certain he could attend that one. Which might well be a moot point, because he hardly expected to be invited. But he would be going to London in April. For the first time in his life, he was restless in the country. Almost… bored. It made no sense. He’d spent a lifetime wishing he could stay here or in Scotland indefinitely. His only business in London involved Parliament, his unsuccessful attempts at finding a wife, and occasional visits with friends. He’d never actually craved Society. Quite the opposite, actually.
But, yes. He’d be going to London in April, not only because of the weddings, but because the Season would be starting and he needed to be ready to employ what Sarah had taught him. With her help, if she was still up to it. He was done with being every lady’s friend. It was high time he found a wife. He was going to be a legend, after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sarah peeped out of the curtain of her upstairs bedchamber, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of Lord Branford’s coach pulling away from the front of her father’s house.
“I doubt he’ll believe you are sick for much longer, Sarah,” Meg said from her perch on the light green velvet slipper chair that rested near the window.
“Neither will Mother,” Sarah groaned. “But they both seemed to believe it today and that is all that matters.”
Sarah had been back in London for many weeks. After Lucy Hunt had spread her story, the fickletonhad appeared to believe it with nary a thought. Lord Branford had been among those who welcomed her back. He’d laughed about what a silly misunderstanding the entire thing had been and how he’d love to meet the venerable Mrs. Bunbury, who was so highly regarded by so many of theton’s best families.
Sarah had long ago decided Lucy Hunt was a veritable genius. How the woman had managed to convince the entire of London Society that a woman who didn’t even exist was one of the most sought-after chaperones in the kingdom was a feat Sarah couldn’t begin to fathom. She was only glad that Lucy’s genius had been working for her and not against.
However, there was still one problem. Ever since Sarah had returned, Lord Branford had been putting increasing pressure on her to name the date for their impending nuptials. Sarah had tried. Truly she had. Somehow during her time away, she’d convinced herself that perhaps her memory of Lord Branford was exaggerated. Perhaps he wasn’t half as awful as she’d made him out to be. But soon after she saw him again and he began prattling on about himself, she remembered exactly why she hadn’t been enthusiastic about marrying him in the first place. She still wasn’t looking forward to it. But she would do her duty as countless generations of women in her family had done before her, as her mother liked to point out.
Do as you’re told, Sarah.The words rang through her head on a daily (if not hourly) basis. Shewoulddo as she was told. But every time she considered an actual wedding date, the walls of whatever room she was in seemed to close in on her and she began to perspire profusely.
So instead of setting a wedding date, she’d pretended to be indisposed, like an awful little coward.
Adding to her misery were her memories of Christian. The quiet times they’d sat together in the cabin, not having to say a word to each other. The easy way they’d begun a nightly ritual of cleaning the dishes and making tea. Their chess game. Taking care of Fergus II together. And the look on Christian’s face the last time she’d seen him, when he’d smiled at her so beautifully.
“I think you should cry off,” Meg stated loyally, her bright gold ringlets bouncing.
“You know I can’t do that,” Sarah replied, letting the curtain drop and pacing back toward her bed.
“I know you don’twantto. You’re worried about your reputation. I understand, truly I do. When you were gone, I insisted to anyone who would listen that you hadn’t run off at all. I’d do anything for you, Sarah. And I’ll continue to protect you if that’s what you truly want, but take it from someone who has barely any reputation left. It’s not half as bad as you think.” Meg grinned at her.
That was one of the things Sarah liked best about her friend. Meg wasn’t one to wallow in her unfortunate circumstances. Instead, she made light of them. Accepted them with nary a complaint.
“Do you think he’s in London yet?” Sarah asked, sighing.
“Who?”
“Lord Berkeley.” Sarah plucked absently at the sleeves of her gown.
