Meg’s eyes widened. “Oh, we’re talking about Lord Berkeley now instead of Lord Branford?”
Sarah continued to pluck while she paced back and forth in front of the bed. “What if he’s changed his mind? What if he’s decided not to return to London for the Season after all?”
“Aren’t you supposed to turn him into a legend?” Meg asked, standing and smoothing her pink skirts. She pulled open the curtain and glanced down at the street below.
“That was the plan. That’s what we discussed. I’m still willing to keep my end of the bargain, of course, but what if…”
“What if what?” Meg asked, letting the curtain fall back into place.
“What if I’m unable to keep my end of the bargain? What if he’s decided he no longer wants my help?”
“Why should that matter toyou?” Meg asked, folding her arms across her chest and facing her friend.
“I would feel guilty if I didn’t keep my end of the bargain. Terribly guilty, Meg.”
“If he has decided he doesn’t wish to be the most eligible bachelor of the Season any longer, I should think there’s little you can do to persuade him otherwise.”
“Yes, but… but…”
“Could it be possible that it’s not guilt that’s nagging at you, but the plain desire toseethe man again?”
Sarah stopped pacing. She took a long, deep breath. She couldn’t hide anything from Meg. Had never been able to. Shedidwant to see Christian again. She desperately wanted to see him. Everywhere she went, she craned her neck and scanned the place, searching, always searching for him. But it had been weeks now and she’d yet to see him. She’d begun to fear he wasn’t coming. “Perhaps he’s decided not to try to use my advice after all. Perhaps he’s decided to remain in the north and live a quiet, simple life of a bachelor.”
Meg eyed her carefully, her hips turning from side to side. “Perhaps he has.”
Sarah pressed her fingertips to her eyelids. “Oh, what’s wrong with me, Meg? I’ve been telling myself it’s because I want to help him. I spent a considerable amount of time and attention giving him advice. I owed it to him.”
“You’d merely be gratified to see that he’d taken and used your advice to become the most sought-after gentleman in thetonthis Season?”
“Something like that,” Sarah murmured. But she knew deep down that she wanted to see him again because she… missed him. Missed his company. Missed his sense of humor. His quick smile. His wry jokes. His kindness.
“The Hollisters’ ball is next month,” Meg said. “If he’s coming to town for the Season, he’s sure to be there.”
“I suppose.” Sarah stopped pacing and braced her hand against the bedpost.
“The question is, can you hold off Lord Branford much longer?” Meg asked.
“I know I shouldn’t, but…” Sarah bit her lip again.
Meg shook her head. “I simply cannot wait to meet this Lord Berkeley.”
A knock sounded on her bedchamber door and Sarah hurried over to open it. It was Hart. Her brother strolled in wearing dark chocolate-brown breeches, a white shirt, a green waistcoat, and costly leather boots. He was busily consulting his gold pocket watch and didn’t even bother to look up.
After Sarah closed the door behind him, he glanced at her. “Ah, so you aren’t abed,” he said with a laugh, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.
“Don’t you dare tell Mother!” Sarah warned.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Hart strolled farther into the room. “Miss Timmons,” he said absently to Meg. Meg and Hart had known each other for years. Meg murmured a quick greeting and quietly sank back into the slipper chair.
Hart turned in a circle to face Sarah again. “I promised Mother I’d come and check on your health.”
“Tell her I’m pale, and cold, and coughing. Mention the coughing,” Sarah said, doing her best to fake a cough.
Hart smiled and shook his head. “You cannot hide from your betrothed forever, you know.”
“You’re one to talk.” Sarah put her fists on her hips. “Mother and Father have been waiting for you to choose a bride for ages and yet you steadfastly refuse.”
“Don’t remind me. I received yet another speech from Father just this week on my refusal to perform my duty.”
