The Duchess of Claringdon’s fine coach pulled to a stop outside of Sarah’s father’s home the next afternoon. The duchess herself, wearing a soft green pelisse and matching bonnet, emerged from the conveyance and made her way onto the street and up the front steps. Miss Meg Timmons accompanied her. Ten minutes later, the two ladies were sitting in the yellow drawing room having tea with Sarah.
Sarah had come to treasure her friendship with Lucy. Not only had the duchess been instrumental in saving Sarah’s reputation, Lucy had a knack for listening and providing sound, if sometimes outrageous, advice. She had also proven kind to Meg. But the thing Sarah liked best about Lucy was that she was not judgmental. Sarah could say anything to Lucy and Lucy would understand. She didn’t judge Sarah and she didn’t judge Meg for being poor and having only two nice, if aged, gowns. As a result, Sarah had confided in Lucy on more than one occasion. But today, for some reason, Sarah dreaded the duchess’s questions. Sarah had a sinking feeling she knew why Lucy had come.
“I brought Meg with me because I sense she, too, has a vested interest in this situation. And one can never have too many friends helping her.”
Meg merely nodded and took a sip of tea.
“Situation?” Sarah echoed, nervous.
“How are you getting on, Sarah?” Lucy asked as she plucked off her gloves.
Sarah pushed a dark curl behind her ear. “Fine. I’m perfectly fine.”
“She’s not fine,” Meg announced.
Lucy arched a brow over her blue eye. “I can tell. No one who is fine uses the wordfine.Fineis a decidedly tepid description of oneself. Therefore, allow me to ask you in another manner,” she said to Sarah. “Have you set a wedding date yet?”
Sarah sighed loud and long. Then she dropped her head into her hands. “Oh, Lucy, not you too. I have enough trouble sidestepping Mother and Lord Branford when they ask.”
Lucy let her gloves drop to her lap. “Ah, that answer tells me everything I need to know.”
Sarah lifted her head and shook it. “What? How?”
“You’re putting it off,” Lucy declared.
Sarah glanced down at her slippers and stared unseeing at the pattern on the rug beneath them. “There’s much to be considered.”
“She’s putting it off,” Meg agreed.
Lucy tsked Sarah and flourished an elegant hand in the air. “Your mother will take care of the considerations. You’ve a household of servants at your disposal as well. You are indeed putting it off.”
“I am not. I—”
Lucy leaned over and put a hand on Sarah’s, forcing Sarah to look at her.
“I saw you and Berkeley last night,” Lucy said softly.
A flash of fear shot through Sarah’s chest. Had the duchess seen them kiss? “And?”
“And obviously something was wrong. I saw you run into the house. You looked quite upset. When I went to see whom you’d been speaking to, Berkeley was standing there.”
Sarah couldn’t very well ask if she’d seen anything else. “Did anyone else notice?”
“Not that I could tell. Except perhaps Meg and Alex.”
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank heavens.”
“I knew,” Meg announced. “But I did what I could to keep the other guests away from the patio. Imayhave started a rumor that there was a swarm of bees out there.”
“Meg, you did not!” Sarah put her hands to her hips.
“Ingenious, Miss Timmons.” Lucy touched a hand to her coiffure. Then she settled her hands back in her lap and addressed Sarah. “I’m going to tell you something you may not want to hear. I suggest you prepare yourself.”
Sarah groaned. “Oh, Lucy, no, please.”
Meg sat sipping her tea, obviously hanging on Lucy’s every word as if she were an opera singer and Meg in the audience at a command performance.
“You two are obviously perfect for each other,” Lucy said to Sarah with a determined nod.
