The Duchess Hunt (25 page)

“Is that what Lady Esme wishes?” she asked
quietly.

“I am sure it is.”

It was what Sarah wanted, too. But it was
too late. She was no fool. Being Esme’s companion would put her in the constant
company of Lady Stanley and Miss Stanley. Lady Stanley would hate that Sarah
had returned to a station so clearly above her and resent Sarah for going above
her to reclaim the position. And Sarah could hardly be in the same room with
Miss Stanley without feeling nauseous.

Furthermore, as Esme’s companion she would
be more frequently in the company of Simon. She wasn’t sure if she could bear
being with Simon any more than absolutely necessary, but being with him and
Miss Stanley, seeing them together —

Well, she had always prided herself on her
personal strength and resilience. But perhaps she was not that strong, after
all.

So she looked at Simon, remembering the
look in his eyes when he’d gazed at her after they’d made love. Remembering his
lips, so soft as they’d caressed her body. And she shook her head.

“No.” The word was soft but firm. Final.

He blinked at her, his long lashes
fluttering in surprise. She was surprised, too. It was the first time she’d
refused him anything.

She shook her head. “I cannot. It wouldn’t
be proper.”

A muscle worked in his jaw, but he kept
his voice at a low pitch. “What isn’t proper,” he ground out, “is you standing
here. Wearing those clothes. Behaving like a
maid
.”

“I
am
a maid. Your Grace.”

He looked away from her, down at his hand
clutching the reins, his shoulders taut underneath the fine fabric of his coat.

She had no idea what he was thinking. She
wished he’d tell her. Even before they’d come together, he’d always been easy
in sharing his thoughts with her.

But she had no right to know his true
thoughts. She never had, really. She’d always known that his friendship was a
gift that could be snatched away from her someday. Men in his position weren’t
meant to befriend women in hers.

He raised his head. “Perhaps,” he said in
a near-whisper, his gaze meeting hers, “that is for the best.”

Oh, it was. That was certain. But she only
gave a tiny nod in response.

“Sarah?” Her father was calling her from
inside, and she glanced back.

“I must go, Your Grace.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll see you later.”

“Ah… yes.” Maybe. Hopefully not. Even now,
it felt like blood was tumbling around in her body, a windswept sea in a
violent storm, with no veins or heart to contain it.

“Good day, then, Sarah.”

She managed a curtsy. “Good day, Your
Grace.”

And then she turned her back on him and
went inside. But as she started another pot of tea for her father, she nudged
the curtain aside and watched him turn down a winding path that led into the
forest. Inside, she wept, her broken heart raw and pulsating, a reopened wound,
but outside she pasted on a cheerful smile and chatted with her father about
his proposal to plant a hedge of hawthorns near the stream.

Two days later, Simon asked Georgina to
walk with him at dusk.

He’d seen Sarah a few times by then. Even
though she’d refused his offer to reinstate her position as Esme’s companion,
she’d been performing her duties with her trademark cheerfulness, clearly
managing their separation far better than he was. Seeing her calmed him,
though. Gave him the determination to proceed with his duty.

It was a fine twilight, with enough fluffy
clouds for the sun to cast dramatic streaks of pink and purple across the sky
as it descended for the night. He led Georgina toward the bank of the stream,
pointing out features in the gardens and outside grounds that had been designed
by the famous gardener Capability Brown in his grandfather’s day and improved
upon by Mr. Osborne.

“Mr. Brown wished to eliminate the garden
completely,” Simon told her as they walked along a row of buttercup yellow
roses, “but my grandmother would have none of that. She loved her roses and
spring blooms far too much. So they came to a compromise.”

“A very lovely compromise, indeed,”
Georgina replied. He opened the garden gate for her, and they stepped out onto
the path that led to the far reaches of Ironwood Park. This was where the land
abandoned the geometric structure of his grandmother’s English garden and the
landscape began to take on more of the sweeping grass-and-tree characteristics
in the style of Capability Brown.

They walked down the curving path that led
in the direction of the forest in the far distance. “Brown loved to use water,
and in Ironwood Park, he had a natural source,” Simon said as the path turned
at the bank of the stream and the blackberry hedge opened to allow them a good
view. For a moment, they stood there, looking down into the clear water
bubbling over smooth stones below.

“I imagine Mr. Brown found everything
about Ironwood Park to be idyllic.”

He turned to her. “Do you find it idyllic
here?” he asked her seriously. Ironwood Park, after all, was to be her home for
the remainder of her days.

“I do. It is. It is a grand home befitting
the Duke of Trent.”

“Some find it… cold, at times.” His mother
had incessantly complained of its sterile coldness, though she’d done her best
to put her mark on it in the few places she felt she could. Many rooms she’d
never touched, and Simon knew it was out of respect for what Ironwood Park was
– a testament to the greatness and power of England and its aristocracy. The
Stone Room, with its disconcerting statue of the Laocoön, was one example
of a room she’d left alone.

“Oh, I do not find it cold at all,”
Georgina reassured him. “Most of the spaces are so very elegant, and must
remain so. A duke’s seat must clearly display his wealth and position. Some of
the rooms need to be modernized and formalized, but there is plenty of time for
that, and it is a task I shall happily take on, because I know how busy you
are.”

Simon turned away from the stream to look
back at the house looming on the low-sloping hill in the distance. It was
lofty, even forbidding with its gothic cornices and domes. But he had been born
here. It was his home, and it would be his family home for generations to come.
If nothing else, those truths alone made him love Ironwood Park.

He turned back to his wife-to-be, and she
gave him a demure smile. He held out his arm, and she slipped her little hand
over his coat as they began to walk again, taking the path as it curved to
follow the natural bank of the stream.

They walked for several minutes, until
they’d gone downhill a ways. He steered well clear of the bench where he’d
spent so many hours talking to Sarah. He had no desire to relive his memories
of his conversations with Sarah with another woman on his arm. That would be
unfair to them both.

Just past his and Sarah’s bench, the
stream turned sharply, and the house was no longer visible behind them. There,
he paused once again on the bank of the stream.

He turned to Georgina, and she tilted her
face up to blink at him, her cornflower blue eyes innocent and lovely.

Slowly, he stroked his hands down the
outsides of her arms and grasped her gloved hands in his own. “You are very
beautiful, Georgina,” he said, knowing that his attention toward her had been
scattered and even somewhat deceptive, and while he’d done his best not to be
unkind, he feared she had sensed his ambivalence toward her.

“Thank you,” she breathed, a slight smile
forming on her lips in response to the compliment.

And he bent down and kissed her.

His body tried to recoil, but he held
himself stiff, focusing on the movements of his lips against hers.

She surprised him, though. He’d thought her
an innocent in all ways. He’d expected her to freeze, like gentle young ladies
were supposed to.

Instead, with a little gasp, she wrapped
her arms around him, and within a fraction of a moment, her lips thawed, became
pliant and warm and supple beneath his.

Oh, God.

He didn’t want this. Didn’t want
her
.

A violent tremor began somewhere deep
inside him, a rebellious, sour thing that told him in no uncertain terms he was
betraying everything he’d ever cared for.

But that was wrong. He wasn’t betraying anything;
no, he was
protecting
what he cared for.

Except Sarah. He wasn’t protecting her.
And he
did
care for her, damn it.

A twig cracked loudly behind Georgina,
causing both of them to jump back. Simon’s stomach roiled, and a cold sweat
broke out on his forehead.

Over her shoulder, he saw swift movement
near the direction of his and Sarah’s bench.

She ran away, darting deeper into the
forest. But not before he identified her. It was the color of her hair, shining
like dark polished ebony in the twilight. It was her carriage, upright and
nimble as she hurried over the obstacles in the path.

Sarah had just heard him tell Georgina she
was beautiful. She’d just seen him kiss her. Everything in him cried out for
him to go after her, to hold her in his arms and tell her everything he did and
said to Georgina was false.

“What was that?” Georgina asked,
breathless. He realized she still had her arms wrapped around him.

He looked down at her. She was flushed,
her lips shining from his kiss, and he shrugged even as guilt and regret boiled
in his gut.

“A deer. Must have been grazing nearby,
then saw us and ran away. I don’t see it now.” He reached down, gently
disengaging her hands from his sides, and tucked her hand into the crook of his
arm. “Come. Let’s return to the house.”

Chapter
Sixteen

Sarah waited in Miss Stanley’s dressing
room for the lady to appear. Evidently, Miss Stanley’s lady’s maid often
suffered from headaches and had taken to her bed with a particularly violent
one tonight, so Sarah had been ordered here to help her dress for dinner.

She wasn’t looking forward to the task.
She’d done her best to keep her distance from the Stanleys since Lady Stanley
had removed her from her position as Esme’s companion.

Last evening, she’d had some free time and
had gone to her and Simon’s bench to think. She wished she hadn’t. The
encounter between Simon and Miss Stanley had proved a few things to Sarah – the
foremost of which was that watching Simon marry Georgina Stanley was going to
be the most difficult thing she’d ever have to endure.

Minutes ticked by, and the lady didn’t
arrive. So Sarah busied herself with tidying – straightening the various
undergarments and accessories that had been strewn about the dressing room when
she’d entered. It seemed Miss Stanley had had a difficult time determining
exactly what to wear this morning. She’d torn the room apart in a stormlike
fashion before deciding on the lovely green striped muslin Sarah had seen her
wearing this afternoon as Robert Johnston had helped Miss Stanley, Lady
Stanley, and Esme into the carriage, presumably for a visit to the village.

She was tucked behind the door to the
clothes press smoothing out one of the lady’s dinner dresses when she heard the
voices of the lady and her mother as they entered the adjacent bedchamber. The
ladies were talking to each other in hushed, low tones, and Sarah paused,
resting her hand on the yellow silk, her head tilted in curiosity. She’d never
heard either of them speak in such serious voices.

As the door snicked shut and they stepped
closer to the dressing room, Sarah began to be able to discern their words.

“Mama, it is far,
far
too dangerous.”

“Your papa believes otherwise.”

“Oh, he is utterly blind,” Georgina said
dismissively. “Do you realize how close Bordesley Green is? It’s less than ten
miles away! For heaven’s sake, I could walk there.”

Bordesley Green? What was that? Sarah
racked her brain, knowing she’d heard the name somewhere before.

“It is quite a private place. Extremely
discreet. And Bertram goes by a different surname. There is nothing to connect
him to us. Nothing whatsoever.”

Miss Stanley gave an unladylike snort.
“Smith. Right. I remember.”

“Now, Georgina,” Lady Stanley said
soothingly. “Nothing will be exposed. You know how important this is to your
father, and to me as well. We have kept him hidden from the public eye for this
long. After all this time, surely we are all safe.”

“I’d just rather he was farther away.”
Miss Stanley’s tone grew surly – a vocal feature Sarah had never heard from
her. “In Abyssinia, perhaps.”

“Alas,” Lady Stanley replied, taking her
daughter’s suggestion seriously, “I doubt your father would send him so far,
and I’m not sure they have such places for people like Bertram in Abyssinia.
But I shall ask.”

“Oh,
why
does Papa insist upon allowing him to remain so close to us? I
shall be so
very
embarrassed if anyone ever finds him.” Now she was whining. “I
should simply
die
.”

“We would all be gravely embarrassed if
anyone connected him to us, I am sure,” Lady Stanley said. “I will discuss this
with your father, but I am certain he will dismiss our worries. Anyhow, you
know your father. He likes Bertram close so he can keep a close eye on him.
Now,” she added brightly, “we must dress for dinner. Where is that wretched
maid? I told her to come up to help you.”

Sarah stood very still. She was well
hidden behind the door of the clothes press, but if someone entered the
dressing room… Quickly, she weighed her options and decided to stay put and
pray they went away.

Sarah tilted her face to the ceiling,
squeezing her eyes shut, and spoke in her head.
“Dear Lord…”

Miss Stanley sighed. “I’ve no idea where
she is. And I don’t even know what to wear.”

“Wear the yellow silk,” Lady Stanley said
distractedly. Then, she added, “Perhaps she is with Esme.”

“Please encourage them to
leave,”
Sarah beseeched.

Miss Stanley groaned. “She is always with
Esme.”

“They needn’t go far,”
Sarah continued, and a little devil popped up from somewhere deep
inside her and added,
“Although they might fare quite
splendidly in Abyssinia.”

“Even now. I’d hoped to never see her
again,” Miss Stanley added, “as she has so obviously forgotten her place, but
Esme is always keeping her close, asking her to do things.”

Yes, that was true. Esme had taken to
asking her to perform simple tasks, like ordering and pouring tea, or stoking
the fire, to keep her close. It was a simple truth – Sarah had spent more time
with Esme than anyone else, and it followed that Esme was easier when Sarah was
nearby.

“She certainly does have poor Esme under
her spell,” Lady Stanley said, a clear note of censure in her voice.

“I can’t understand it. I have tried so
hard with Esme, even though she is perhaps the dullest lady I’ve ever met in my
entire life. Have you seen her scribbling her stupid little stories?”

Sarah closed her eyes, picturing Miss
Stanley’s lovely little shudder. She pressed her lips together to hold back her
defense of Esme’s writing.

“These things take time,” Lady Stanley
said. “But I must give you one word of advice: You must never drop your guard
with that lady, Georgina. I’ve the feeling she’ll turn on you in an instant.”

“What?” Miss Stanley seemed surprised.

“This Hawkins family – they aren’t quite
right. Well, allow me to amend that. The duke has done his best to restore some
respectability to the family name. He is quite a proper and decent gentleman.
But the rest of them —” She made a little noise of disapproval before
continuing. “They all possess a hint of their parents’ insanity, I think.”

“Their papa was insane?” Miss Stanley
asked. “I knew their mother was – what kind of mother would encourage a servant
girl into the family, for heaven’s sake? But their papa, too?”

“Yes,” Lady Stanley said, her voice very
serious. “When I was your age, I was ordered to stay well clear of that man.
His horrid reputation and behavior was put forth as an example of debauchery
and as a warning to all young ladies of character.”

“But he was a duke!” Miss Stanley
exclaimed, as if being a duke forgave all impropriety.

“That he was.” Lady Stanley sighed. “I
admit it is rare, Georgina, but there are times when even a man’s title cannot
restore his good name.”

Miss Stanley seemed to mull this over.
“And do you think Esme is mad, too?”

“It is quite possible.”

Sarah sent a quick thought up to heaven.
“Abyssinia truly might be the best place
for them, Lord.”

Lady Stanley continued, “She is young and
inexperienced now, and perhaps it is true that the madness has not yet taken
hold. We must use that to our advantage. We must do everything possible to
insinuate ourselves into her good graces.”

“Honestly, I do not see why,” Georgina
argued. “She is only Trent’s sister, and they don’t appear particularly close.
He doesn’t listen to her.”

“That is because she doesn’t speak to
him,” Lady Stanley said. “She hardly speaks to anyone. But what if she did?”

Miss Stanley hesitated. “Well, in that
case he might listen to her,” she conceded.

“I think he might. So do endeavor to
become her bosom bow, Georgina. At least until you are married. Then, you will
be a duchess, and you may do whatever you wish.”

“Yes, Mama. Oh, I cannot wait until
October,” she said wistfully.

“It’ll come soon, I promise. Until then,
we shall both be on our best behavior with these peculiar people.”

“It is true that Trent does stand out as
the most proper of all of them,” Miss Stanley said.

“You’re very lucky he is the one you will
marry, Georgina. Very lucky, indeed.”

“Yes.” Miss Stanley gave a breathy sigh.
“I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

“So you see why we mustn’t give Trent any
reason whatsoever to change his mind.”

“Oh, he won’t change his mind. He would
never jilt me! He is far too honorable.”

Lady Stanley laughed softly as Sarah’s
stomach twisted. “Probably true. Still, there is no reason to antagonize him.”

“I know. And in any case, I’ve no wish
whatsoever to antagonize him. He’s kind and generous.”

There was a short silence. Then Lady
Stanley spoke in a wistful voice. “Ah, my dear. I do envy you the match you
have made. I am so very proud that you were able to catch the eye of a duke –
although, indeed, I knew all along that you would succeed in doing so. When I
was a girl, I always dreamed of making such a match for myself.”

“And you made the match with Papa.”

Miss Stanley said that like it was a
positive thing, but Lady Stanley made a low, derisive noise. “Your Papa is not
a duke.”

“Too true.” Miss Stanley laughed, and it
was a sound that made Sarah’s stomach twist. For it wasn’t a happy laugh, it
was a laugh of victory, as if Simon were a conquest she had been fighting with
the whole of England for, and she had emerged the victor.

Sadly, there was much truth to that. Sarah
had spent years sheltered in Ironwood Park, but she had observed the way ladies
behaved toward Simon during the time she’d been in London. Those months had
showed her in no uncertain terms that he was considered the premier catch of
all the aristocratic bachelors in England.

“Now, let us go find Esme. If that girl is
with her, I shall give her a proper set-down for disobeying me.”

They left the room, closing the door
behind them.

Sarah sagged against the clothes press for
a minute, her eyes squeezed shut to thank the Lord for finally nudging them
out.

And then she opened her eyes and studied
the now-clean dressing room. After hearing that conversation, any residual hope
that she’d ever like Miss Stanley or her mother had evaporated. They’d called
Esme’s stories stupid. They’d claimed that madness ran in the Hawkins family.

They were both simply awful.

She deliberately turned her thoughts to the
beginning of their conversation. Bordesley Green… where had she heard of that
place before? What was it? She’d have to ask Mrs. Hope.

And Bertram Smith, whose last name was
counterfeit. Who was he, and why did Georgina wish he were in Abyssinia?

Perhaps it was someone who had compromised
Georgina somehow, and the Stanleys had paid him off to disappear… and he’d gone
to this Bordesley Green place, and Georgina thought it was too close, that
Simon might discover she wasn’t the innocent miss she pretended to be…

Goodness, her mind was running away from
her. She had to speak to Mrs. Hope quickly before she invented an entire story,
one that would end happily for all – with Georgina Stanley and Bertram Smith
eloping to Abyssinia together.

She continued tidying up the dressing
room, and when the door to Miss Stanley’s room opened again, she hurried out of
the small room, her hands full of clothing, and made her voice innocent and
bright. “Oh, Miss Stanley. Good afternoon! I’ve been sent up to help you dress
for dinner.”

Miss Stanley frowned at her. “Where have
you been?”

“Why, waiting for you. Your lady mother
told me to come up to wait for you, and I did right away… well, as soon as I’d
run a quick errand for Mrs. Hope. I was just tidying your dressing room as I
waited.” She held out the armful of pantalettes as evidence.

Miss Stanley puffed out a breath and
strode past her into the dressing room, yanking open the clothes press. “Mama
said I should wear the yellow silk.”