Sleepless at Midnight (36 page)

“Matthew, I think I’ve found something.”

It took him several seconds to emerge from the fog of defeat surrounding him. When he did, he jumped up and raced around the hedge.

Sarah, her face damp and red from her exertions, was on her knees, frantically pushing aside dirt with her hands. He noted she was nearly at the end of her row, with only a few feet left to dig.

“My shovel hit something hard,” she said, glancing up at him, her eyes filled with excitement and hope.

He knelt next to her and together they pushed aside the dirt. Less than a minute later their hands stilled. And they stared at what they’d uncovered.

“Oh, my,” she whispered.

He swallowed, barely able to do so around the lump in his throat, a lump lodged there at the sight of the brick they’d uncovered. Not the money, just a…brick. The letdown after that spike of last minute hope was nothing short of crushing.

The tears shimmering in Sarah’s eyes told him she felt exactly the same way. Her bottom lip trembled and a single tear trickled down her cheek. And his heart simply broke in two.

“Sarah…” He pulled her into his arms and absorbed her quiet sobs, each one a barbed lash against his heart.

“I th-thought I’d found it,” she whispered against his neck.

“I know, sweetheart. So did I.”

“I can’t believe it wasn’t there. I was so hopeful…so sure…” Another sob racked her, and he pressed his lips against her disarrayed hair. Bloody hell, seeing and hearing her cry was killing him. She looked up at him and brushed at the wetness on her cheeks with shaking fingers, her tearsoaked eyes filled with determination. “I still have several more feet in which to dig. I want to finish. It could be there.”

He cupped her face in his hands, softly brushing at the remnants of her tears. There were a thousand things he wanted to tell her. Share with her. Tens of thousands of tomorrows he wanted to spend with her. And the pain of knowing it wasn’t going to happen made it nearly impossible to breathe.

“I’ll finish,” he said.

Ten minutes later he had to once again admit defeat.

“Nothing,” he said in a flat voice.

He turned and held out his dirty hand to her. She slipped her equally dirty hand into his, and he led them away. Once they were a safe distance from the rose garden, he pulled the handkerchief from his face and stopped. She turned to him and their gazes met. He felt the need to say something, but God help him, he had no idea what. As it was, he had to clear his throat to find his voice.

“Thank you for your help.”

Her bottom lip quivered and he prayed she wasn’t going to cry again. He felt like a frayed thread about to snap, and seeing her tears again would cut him off at the knees.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered. “I’m only sorry we failed.”

“As am I.” More than he could ever hope to convey.

“Saying good-bye to you…it’s going to be difficult.”

“Sarah…” No more words came, and with a groan, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face against her hair. Difficult? It was going to prove damn near impossible. Drawing a shaky breath, he lifted his head and looked into her eyes. The most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. “We still have tonight,” he said. “One more night.”

And then he’d leave and do what had to be done, keep the promises he’d made, see to his responsibilities, save the estate his father had run into financial ruin. He’d retain his honor, his family’s honor. But by doing so, he would lose Sarah, the one thing that meant more to him than anything else.

Yet as awful as he felt right now, tomorrow he knew he’d find out what heartbreak really felt like.

That night’s dinner turned into an impromptu celebration to commemorate the end of the house party. Food and wine flowed freely, and Sarah tried her best to hide her misery and partake of the festivities. Luckily everyone else, with the exception of Matthew, whom she tried her best not to look at lest she lose her composure, appeared in high spirits, so it wasn’t necessary for her to do more than nod, smile, and toss in an occasional comment.

As was her habit, she spent most of the meal observing those around her. Lady Gatesbourne and Lady Agatha were deep in conversation with Lord Berwick, both ladies clearly sizing him up as potential husband material, much the way an undertaker sized up one for a coffin. Emily and Julianne were engaged in lively conversation with Lord Hartley, while Carolyn was laughing at something Matthew said. Lords Surbrooke and Thurston were chatting about horses, a conversation to which Mr. Jennsen, who sat next to her, appeared to be listening. She was proven wrong, however, when Mr. Jennsen said to her in an undertone from the corner of his mouth, “You’ll have my undying gratitude if you rescue me from this deadly boring horse talk.”

Sarah couldn’t help but chuckle. “And here I thought you were fascinated.”

“Hardly. I was merely attempting to appear so in my quest for bettering my manners.”

“Is there something wrong with your manners?”

“You haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

He regarded her through very serious eyes. “It’s a good thing you’re sitting down because what I’m about to tell you may come as a shock.” He leaned closer. “I’m an American. From America.”

Sarah feigned surprise. “Never say so. You? An upstart colonist?”

He held his hand over his heart. “I swear it’s true. Which means I must brush up on my manners of which I apparently have none. Especially if I hope to entice a certain young lady to visit me when next she is in London.”

Given the steady way he was looking at her, there was no mistaking whom he meant, and a blush heated her cheeks. “I…I don’t know when that might be.”

“Whenever your time might allow,” he said lightly. “It is an open invitation, for both you and your sister, or whoever else you might be traveling with.” His gaze rested on hers. “I’ve very much enjoyed your company and would like to see you again.”

“I…I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “After all, I’m just one of those uncouth Americans.”

“I’ve enjoyed your company as well,” she said. And she had. But she had no wish to give him false hope, and she knew that once she arrived home, it would be a long time before she and her broken heart would be ready to leave again. “But ”

“No buts,” he said softly. “There’s no need for excuses or explanations. Like you, I am observant. Just know that I wish you every happiness, and should you return to London, I’d be delighted to escort you around the city. You’ve only to ask.”

Sarah’s blush fired hotter. She wasn’t certain what his observations had told him, but she suspected he’d fathomed that she held more than a passing interest in Matthew. “I thank you for your offer of friendship.”

“You’re welcome.”

He didn’t add that the offer could be for more than friendship, but he didn’t need to it was there in his eyes for her to see. Sarah reached for her wine and took a sip to hide her dismay. Until she came to Langston Manor, no man had ever looked at her twice. Now two men had made it clear they cared for her.

If only her heart wanted Logan Jennsen instead of Matthew. But that was as useless as saying if only they’d found the money.

She had one last night with Matthew, a few stolen hours that would have to last her a lifetime. She intended to treasure every moment.

It was after midnight by the time the party broke up and everyone made their way toward their bedchambers. The instant Sarah entered her room, she quickly removed her clothes and dressed in the one thing she wanted most to wear Matthew’s shirt that she’d borrowed for Franklin, who was dismantled, his clothing returned to the rightful owners. She would return the shirt to Matthew tonight after he removed it from her body.

Several minutes later a soft knock sounded on the door. Heart pounding, she watched the door swing open. Matthew entered, holding a small bouquet of lavender. After he’d closed and locked the door, she emerged from the shadows.

He stilled when he saw her, his gaze moving slowly down her form, his eyes filled with a combination of heat and tenderness that stole her breath. With his gaze steady on hers, he walked toward her, halting when less than two feet separated them.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he said.

She nodded. “You’ll recall that I said I’d return it.”

“Yes.” He reached out and rubbed a bit of the material between his fingers. “But I think you should keep it. On me it looks quite average, but on you, it looks…extraordinary.” He held out the bouquet.

“For you.”

Sarah took the flowers and lifted them to her nose to breathe in the lovely fragrance. “Thank you. They’re my favorite.”

“I know. And they’re now mine as well.”

Looking at him over the top of the purple blooms, she said, “The bouquets in the dining room and foyer were magnificent.”

“I wanted you to know I was thinking of you.”

While taking another deep breath of the flowers, she noticed something shiny nestled between the blooms. She reached in and stilled at the sight of the object she withdrew. A brooch. In the shape of a single, perfect iris, the deep purple enamel flower and emerald green leaves edged with gleaming gold.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her fingers tracing over the vivid colors.

“It was my mother’s,” Matthew said softly. “I hope you’ll wear it. And remember me fondly.”

Fondly? Dear God, if only such a lukewarm word could describe her feelings for him. Blinking back the hot moisture pooling behind her eyes, she said, “Thank you, Matthew. I’ll treasure it always. I have a present for you as well.” She walked to the escritoire, laid down her flowers and brooch on the polished surface, then picked up a rolled vellum scroll tied with a ribbon. When she returned to him, she handed him the gift.

He wordlessly removed the ribbon then slowly unrolled the pages. He looked at the first sketch, which depicted two plants whose heart-shaped flowers dripped from curved stems, and smiled.

“Straff wort and tortlingers,” he said, reading the words she’d written beneath the imaginary plants. “I somehow knew they would look exactly like this.”

He turned to the second sketch and stared at it for a long moment, a muscle ticking in his jaw. When he finally looked up, the emotion in his gaze made her heart skip a beat. “You…as Venus. It’s absolutely perfect. Right down to Venus wearing spectacles. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He carefully re-rolled and tied the sketches then crossed the room to set them on the escritoire next to her flowers. Then he walked back toward her, but when he reached her, he didn’t stop, just picked her up and with her toes dangling above the floor brought her to the bed, setting her on the edge of the mattress.

Without a word he knelt before her then reached out to unfasten his shirt, which she wore. After sliding the linen off her shoulders and down her arms, he trailed a single fingertip from the hollow of her throat to her navel.

“Lie back,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

After she’d done as he bid, he parted her legs with his hands then lifted her thighs and set them on his shoulders. Her modesty dissolved at the first stroke of his tongue along her sensitive folds. Never in her life had she imagined such intimacy. He made love to her with his mouth, his lips and tongue caressing while his fingers danced over her flesh with wicked perfection. When her climax overtook her, it dragged a cry from her that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul. Limp and languorous, she watched him remove his clothes. Then he covered her body with his and the magic started all over again. She tried to memorize every touch. Every look. Every sensation. For she knew they would be her last.

And when she awoke in the morning, he was gone.

Matthew was two hours down the road heading toward London when he reined Apollo to a halt and leaned forward to pat the gelding’s brown neck. The mauve of dawn that had stained the sky when he left Langston Manor had given way to a pale blue dotted with fluffy clouds. His guests wouldn’t be departing his home until early this afternoon, but he’d been unable to stay. Couldn’t bear to say good-bye to Sarah in front of everyone. He wanted his last image of her to be of her sleeping after they’d made love, her hair spread around her like a curly brown halo. Just ahead the road split, the left fork continuing southwest toward London, and right fork heading…not toward London.

He stared at the roads for several long moments while myriad images flashed through his mind. Images that he knew would haunt him until he breathed his last breath. He knew what he had to do. He couldn’t turn back.

But before he went to London, he realized there was somewhere else he needed to go first. Pressing his heels to Apollo’s flanks, he turned and headed up the right fork. Chapter 18

Sarah stood in her bedchamber and stared at the bed, every crevice of her heart and mind crowded with memories. Pale streaks of late morning sunshine, weak courtesy of the thick cloud cover, cast ribbons of lackluster color across the counterpane that perfectly matched her mood. A footman had just removed the last of her belongings. All that was left to do now was wait for the carriages to be loaded. And then she’d be on her way home. Back to the life she’d always known. The life that had always been enough.

Until she’d come here.

Until she’d fallen hopelessly, recklessly, profoundly in love. With a man she couldn’t have. She’d known from the onset the extreme likelihood that things would end this way, but a tiny flame of hope had burned in her chest, unable to be extinguished, that the money would be found. That Matthew would therefore not have to marry an heiress. That he could marry whomever he wanted. And that someone would be her.