“But Ifeelguilty. Extremely guilty. Surely lightning will strike me when I stand before God in the church this morning.” Sarah buried her face in her hands.
“Ridiculous,” Lucy replied. Sarah looked up to find the duchess tugging on the end of her glove. “I find it hard to believe that God would have made us all such passionate creatures if he didn’t want us to be passionate from time to time,” Lucy said.
Sarah blinked at her. “Do you truly think that?”
“Of course.” Lucy flourished her hand in the air again. “And you can hardly be blamed for a bit of passion with the man with whom you’re clearly falling in love.”
Sarah groaned miserably. “But didn’t you hear me tell you that Christian doesn’t love me?”
This time, Lucy’s brow furrowed. “No. I heard no such thing. I heard the part where Christian didn’tsaythat he loves you, which is quite different and of course quite stupid of him, but he’s never experienced anything like this before. Besides, we’ve all had to overcome a bit of stupidity when falling in love. I’m afraid it comes with the territory.” Lucy sighed.
“But I asked him outright. And he couldn’t say it,” Sarah argued.
“Did you tell him you love him?”
Sarah blinked. “No.”
“Then why in the world would you expect him to come out with it? I admit one of you needs to be less stubborn and say it first, but these things are complicated, dear, and there are other factors to be considered in this particular situation.”
Sarah’s hand fell to her side. “Such as…?”
“Such as your engagement to the Marquess of Branford.”
Sarah’s head dropped into her hands again, hat and all. “What am I to do, Lucy?”
Lucy leaned down and tugged her up to stand next to her. Then she hugged her against her side. “First, you’re to attend Daphne and Rafe’s wedding. We must set out immediately or we shall be late.” She pulled Sarah by the hand toward the door.
“And then?” Sarah asked in a melancholy voice, dragging her feet along the floor in Lucy’s wake.
“Then you must decide whether you are going to marry for love or for duty, because the only one who can decide that is you. You must not allow life to happen to you.”
“But I can’t—”
Lucy turned and shook her finger at Sarah. “See here. When I first saw you in Northumbria, I immediately liked you. I told Cass that any young woman who was willing to take off to Scotland in the winter with nothing more than some borrowed maid’s clothing and a stash of pin money was the type of interesting young lady with whom we should very much strive to be friends. Don’t forget that you are that selfsame young woman. She may be confused at the moment, but she’s still there. I have full confidence. And she’s not about to make the wrong decision. I’m certain of it.” The duchess finished her speech with a resolute nod.
“I’m not at all as confident of it as you are,” Sarah said as Lucy opened the door and pulled Sarah into the corridor.
“You will be, dear. You will be.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Three weeks went by, three torturous weeks in which Christian returned to London and did everything in his power to stay away from Lady Sarah Highgate. The still-very-much-engaged-to-Lord-Branford Lady Sarah Highgate. Christian did whatever he could to keep her from his thoughts. He went riding in the park. He went to the fencing club with Upton. He even went shopping, of all bloody ridiculous things, with Monroe. According to Monroe, a well-dressed gentleman could never have too many fine shirts.
But Christian soon learned, to his chagrin, that while staying away from Sarah was easy enough, keeping her from his thoughts was much more difficult. For his thoughts were haunted by the memory of her in his bed in Surrey, her gorgeous naked body splayed in front of him. Her lips around him, driving him wild. Then, inevitably, his thoughts would turn to the talk they’d had after it was over.Do you love me, Christian?she’d asked in the most heartbreakingly vulnerable voice he’d ever heard.Can you say you love me?Those were the words that kept him awake at night. Made him toss and turn in bed. Those were the words that tortured him. And every time he thought of them, he cursed himself for not having answered them in the way she’d obviously wanted. Every time, he hated himself more for not being the man she clearly needed him to be.
While Christian’s thoughts were plagued with her, he spent his days studiously avoiding her, which proved to be somewhat simple. For Sarah was rarely in public. According to Lucy, she was busily preparing her trousseau while her mother saw to the wedding details. When he did attendtonparties, he rarely saw her. When she was there, he ensured that he spent his evening dancing with a never-ending slew of young, marriageable ladies. And he refused to look at her.
“I cannot imagine what she’s thinking,” Lucy declared one afternoon when she and Christian had gone for a walk in the park.
“I can. She’s thinking she’s about to marry Lord Branford,” Christian retorted, nudging up his hat with the tip of his finger.
“But we spoke in Surrey. I was certain she’d—”
He glanced at Lucy, who’d snapped her mouth shut. “She’d what?”
“We talked before the wedding. I was certain she’d leave him. What did you do to your hand, by the by?” She gestured to Christian’s right fist, which was wrapped firmly with a clean white rag.
“It’s nothing,” he murmured. He kept his mouth shut on the other score, too. He made a show of flexing his hand, in an attempt to prove it didn’t pain him.
