Just yesterday, the table had inexplicably collapsed, shattering some of their good china. Sara had been in her room, having fled there after Nick had left, and she hadn’t seen the wreckage, though Anna later assured her it had been spectacular.
“The table is just fine,” Delphi said in a repressive voice. “You can’t even tell it’s been fixed.”
“I wish hearts were as easily repaired.”
Delphi patted her hand. “Give yourself some time, dear. You’ll feel better soon. I’m sure of it.”
Sara wasn’t so sure but she kept silent, merely suggesting they keep busy by visiting the lending library. Once there, deciding to stay away from anything having to do with love or romance, Sara selected two very worthy tomes on horticulture. It wasn’t until later, as they rode in the carriage back to Delphi’s house, and she caught herself studying the medicinal properties of various herbs, that Sara realized she was still thinking about Nick.
Disgusted with herself, she tucked the books away and decided not to read them. She entered the foyer still feeling out of sorts, and discovered a small box on the table in the front hall. She knew immediately that it had come from Nick, and had the footman who delivered it still been there, she would have sent it home without further ado. But he’d already left, probably rejoicing that he’d managed to deliver at least one item successfully.
Frowning, Sara left the box on the table in the hall for return on the next day, glancing at it whenever she happened to see it. When Anna arrived that evening she exclaimed over the gift, wondering aloud at the possible contents and finally carrying it into the sitting room, where it sat in solitary splendor on a side table. As the evening progressed, it seemed to Sara that the box was as alone as she. She found herself moving it to one side while looking for Aunt Delphi’s missing thread, tapping a finger on its smooth side while listening to Anthony and Anna bicker, or just holding it in her hand and staring at it.
Finally, while turning the pages of her book, Sara accidentally knocked it to the floor.
Anna looked up from her book by the reformer, Mary Wollstonescraft. She gazed at the fallen box with a considering frown, finally saying, “I suppose you will have to pick it up.”
Sara thought she detected just a hint of sarcasm in Anna’s voice, but she wasn’t certain. “Perhaps I should just leave it.”
Anna raised her brows, but made no comment. Moments dangled by during which Sara tried valiantly not to look at the box.
“Perhaps,” Anna said into the silence, “I should pick it up. Just in case it falls open.”
“That would be best,” Sara agreed, her heart racing a little at the thought.
Anna wasted no time in scooping up the box and, just as she predicted, the top fell off. She stood gazing into the box, a dazed expression on her face.
“What is it?” Sara demanded impatiently.
Eyes wide, Anna held the box toward Sara. There, reclining on a bed of red velvet, sat a large square-cut ruby ring with an intricately carved gold band. The gem winked up at her, blinding in its brilliance. Set with diamonds, it made the Lawrence sapphires pale in comparison.
“Fudge,” Sara said. “I have to give that back.”
“Nonsense. It’s the least that bounder can do for you—plaster you with jewelry and beg for forgiveness. I like that in a man.” Anna shot a hard look at Anthony, who was too immersed in the newspaper to notice.
Sara took the box from Anna and replaced the lid, setting it back on the table. “You know why I have to give it back.” She resolutely returned to her book. What was Nick thinking, to send her such a thing? What was he trying to prove?
“There is a note with it,” Anna said. “Perhaps you could just return the note and keep the ring.”
“No,” Sara said firmly. “It all goes back—the note and the ring.”
“That’s not a very practical way of doing things.” Sighing heavily, Anna returned to her book, though her gaze drifted to the box as frequently as Sara’s.
Later, after Anna left, Sara found herself looking at the ring again—just to admire it. She even took it upstairs so that she could try it on away from Anthony’s prying eyes. It was a perfect fit. The ruby looked especially lovely on her hand, the deep red mesmerizing against her white skin. It was a truly lovely gift, and one that showed how well Nick knew her taste.
That night, she slept with the ring tucked beneath her pillow. The next morning, collecting every bit of her determination, Sara put the ring back in the box and ordered that it be returned to Hibberton Hall. She stood in the window of the sitting room and watched the footman carry it away, feeling a strange urge to cry.
So it went for two more days. Nick visited often and always the butler turned him away. And when Nick wasn’t present, a steady flow of gifts and flowers flooded the house. It was, Sara decided as she stared down at a gorgeous ruby necklace, enough to drive a woman mad. Yet somehow, it still wasn’t enough.
Delphi bustled into the room, a shawl of Indian silk fluttering about her. “I will never speak to Lady Merton again.”
Sara replaced the necklace in the box. “Lady Merton? But you’ve known her forever.”
“Apparently Ophelia has forgotten that fact.” Delphi settled onto the edge of the settee, her lip quivering. “She had the audacity to try and hint me away from Henri.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She says that he is no more a comte than I. In fact, she is telling everyone that he is an imposter and that he has made a fool of me.”
Sara looked down at the ruby necklace and shut the box with a sigh. “Does it matter what she thinks?”
Delphi toyed with the fringe on her shawl, her face folded with worry. “I daresay he has no income whatsoever.”
“Most likely.”
Delphi’s lip quivered again. “And no prospects, either.”
“Probably not.”
“And he’s a full eight months younger than I.” There was a hint of a wail to her voice.
“No one would ever credit it. You don’t look a day over forty.”
Delphi brightened. “Do you think so?” At Sara’s nod, Delphi sighed. “I don’t know why I let that man affect me so.”
“Sometimes we don’t have a choice in who affects us,” Sara said softly. “It just happens.” And sometimes there was no way to stop it from happening, even when you knew it would lead to heartache.
Delphi took her niece’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “No, we don’t. But life comes to visit but once, and only a fool would have the door locked and bolted. I fear I have kept the doors to my heart locked for so long that they have rusted closed.”
“Aunt Delphi, you are being too harsh on yourself.”
“No, I’m not. I instinctively retreat from that which has the power to hurt.” She stared down at the floor for a moment with a frown. “And it hurts to be in love. Doesn’t it?”
Yes, it did. But not always. Sara could remember a time when just the feel of Nick’s warm hand on hers made her heart leap with joy. Damn it, why did life have to be so complicated? She stirred restlessly, suddenly assailed with the desire to escape her cares. “Do you know what we need?”
Delphi shook her head.
“A complete change of scenery. Why don’t we go on a tour of the North Country, just you and I? We’ll have a delightful time.”
“I don’t know. I promised your cousin Althea that I’d come and stay with her while—”
“Althea has two sisters who are perfectly capable of assisting her. We can leave next week. It would do us both good to get away from Bath.” Maybe the time away would clear her head.
“I suppose you are right,” Delphi said thoughtfully. “And if we stay gone long enough, certain people just might miss us.”
That was a thought. Sara’s heart suddenly lightened. At least she would be doing something. “We’ll pack this very evening and leave in the morning.”
“Yes, dear.” Delphi stood and began digging in her
reticule. “That reminds me, Anthony caught me in the hallway and he wished me to give you—ah, here it is!” She pulled out a small square of white paper and placed it in Sara’s hand.
“What is it?”
“He didn’t say. I wonder if I should pack my new pelisse?” Giving Sara a quick smile, Delphi floated off, her mind already busily engaged in their new plans.
Sara looked at the folded vellum and recognized Nick’s writing. Her first impulse was to toss the note into the fire, but Delphi’s words stayed with her. What was she afraid of? It was just a letter, and she didn’t have to finish reading it if she didn’t like what it said.
Setting her shoulders, she opened the missive. She didn’t know what she expected—poetry or an eloquent plea of forgiveness, perhaps. But only five words adorned the thick vellum.
“I will always love you.”
And she would always love him. Tears clogged Sara’s throat, and the great ache of loneliness broke free. He’d made a mistake so great that it had ripped the delicate fabric of their relationship, leaving her unsure if she could ever find it in her to forgive him. And had he been truly involved with Lucilla, there would be no possibilities, no forgiveness. Sara would never again be a betrayed wife.
But neither would she accept being treated as less than an equal partner. Delphi was right—doors could be closed so long that they rusted shut. Like the doors to Nick’s heart. And maybe the doors to her own, as well.
Sara placed a hand over her stomach, where the small life grew. It was time she moved on with her life, whether she was ready or not. The only question that remained was, would she move toward Nick, or away?
Chapter 24
Nick tossed the reins of his horse to the waiting groom and walked up the front stoop of Hibberton Hall. He was riding at least an hour a day now and was already beginning to feel the benefits. His head was clearer, the pressure behind his eyes less. All he needed was to heal his heart and he would, for the first time in his life, be whole.
But his courtship wasn’t progressing at all. The traditional methods had gotten him nowhere. Perhaps it was time for a more untraditional wooing…but what?
Wiggs was waiting for him in the foyer. “My lord, the Earl of Greyley has arrived. I escorted him to the library.”
Nick didn’t wait to hand his gloves and hat to the butler, but spun on his heel and went straight to the library.
Anthony was standing at the window, arms crossed, one shoulder against the frame. “There you are,” he said without rancor. “I delivered your note.”
Nick was instantly on his guard. “I was surprised you offered to do it.”
Anthony shrugged. “You looked so forlorn, standing in the street.”
“I am not beaten yet, Greyley.”
“No, I don’t think you are. You have lasted longer than I would have. She’s not been very accommodating.”
“But then that has always been part of Sara’s unique charm,” Nick replied with a tight smile. To what do I owe this honor?”
“She’s leaving.”
“When?” Nick bit out.
“Tomorrow.”
“Dear God.” Nick raked a hand through his hair.
“I tried to talk her out of it, but she’s determined.”
Nick looked at Anthony with sudden suspicion. “Why are you helping me?”
“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Sara, but I know the child needs a father.” He shot a hard glance at Nick. “Are you willing to assume that responsibility?”
“I will, whether Sara wants it or not.”
“That’s all I need to know.” Anthony pushed himself from the window and strolled to the door.
“Will she be home this evening?”
“I’ll make sure of it.” Anthony met Nick’s gaze. “Don’t muck this up, Bridgeton.”
“Thank you, Greyley. I owe you.” And it was a debt he would gladly repay the day Sara was his once again.
Well after midnight, Nick lifted the ladder from the back of the old wagon and hefted it to his shoulders, staggering a little under the weight. “Damn it,” he muttered. “I need a carpenter’s assistant.”
He managed to get the ladder around the side of Lady Langtry’s town house and laid it beside the rosebush. Then he tipped his head back and stared up at the window far over his head. In the entire house, it was the only one where a light burned. Sighing, he grabbed the ladder and hefted it upright. It began to tilt precariously to one side, and he hastily righted it, stepping backward into a thick puddle of mud. “Bloody hell,” he swore, resting the ladder on the side of the house, right by Sara’s window. The next time he attempted this, he was going to bring one of the stable hands with him. He glanced at his muddy boots and grimaced, then tried to scrape the mud on the gravel path.
“Mon Dieu! What are you doing here?”
Nick whirled around. Henri stood facing him, his silver hair bright in the moonlight.
“That, Henri, is none of your business.”
“Ah, but it is my business.” The comte came to stand beside the ladder, looping an arm through a rung. “Did you know Delphi and Sara were leaving?”
“I’d heard,” Nick said shortly. He placed his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and looked pointedly at the comte’s arm. “Do you mind?”
Henri obediently stepped back. “Pray continue. You can thank me later.”
“For what?”
Henri tucked his thumbs in his waistcoat and rocked back on his heels, the very picture of a self-satisfied male. “It has taken, oh, such an effort, but I have convinced my little Delphi not to go away. And if Delphi does not go, then Sara does not go.”
“That was very good of you.”
“Ah, it was nothing.” Henri glanced up the ladder to Sara’s window. “Perhaps I will wait for you in the carriage.”
Nick nodded and began to climb. He’d nearly reached the top of the ladder when Henri’s voice drifted up to him.
“One more thing, mon ami. The terrace doors are never locked. You might want to try that way next time.”
Nick turned to glare down at him, but Henri was already wandering down the path, humming the refrain of a waltz.
Damn Henri. Nick climbed the last two rungs and reached Sara’s window.
Inside her room, Sara was unsuccessfully trying to read about the proper planting for St. John’s wort, but her mind kept drifting to the herb garden she’d planned at Hibberton Hall. It would have been lovely. Furthermore, it would have kept her stillroom stocked for Nick’s tisanes. She wondered if his headaches had worsened, and if he was eating well. The idea that he might be suffering at this very moment, all alone at Hibberton Hall, made her throat tighten painfully.
“He deserves to suffer,” she said aloud, blinking away the moisture that had gathered in her eyes. Still…it didn’t seem fair that she should suffer as well. Every moment without Nick was an agony.
She loved him so much. Too much to let him ruin their marriage with his fears. Still, he hadn’t had the opportunities she’d had to witness a truly loving relationship. Considering his dread that he might end up like his mother, she shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d attempted to push her away in such a horrible manner.
Yet the question remained: Could he learn to treat her as a respected partner in this marriage? After her experience with Julius, Sara could accept no less. A wave of restlessness swept through her, and it was with a very heavy heart that she readied for bed, looking forlornly at the trunks that lay open in the center of the room, packed and almost ready for her journey on the morrow.
Just as she slid under the covers, a scratching sound came from her window. Sara slid to the edge of her bed, her gaze on the curtain.
There was a creak as the casement was opened. The curtains trembled, then were tossed aside as a man’s figure was silhouetted against the night sky.
He was here! Sara scrambled to find her robe, stubbing her toe on her trunk in the process. Cursing wildly, s
he hopped to where her robe lay across a chair and yanked it on.
Nick closed the window and entered, looking far more dashing and handsome than any late-night visitor should.
“Wh-what do you want?” Sara asked, tying the sash about her waist in a double knot.
A smile flickered in his eyes. “I want you.”
Her heart beat faster, but she sternly quelled it. “You had me once, and you sent me away.”
“I was wrong.”
They stood staring at one another, neither moving. Sara wanted nothing more than to walk into the circle of his arms, but for the sake of their child, she couldn’t. Not yet.
There was so much more she needed to hear him say, but he just stood looking at her, his face dark with some emotion. Finally, just as she decided to break the silence, he said, “I’m leaving Hibberton Hall.”
That startled her. “But…you love that place.”
“No—I love you. Without you, Hibberton Hall is an empty shell.”
“Where will you go?”
“That depends on you.”
She frowned, shoring up her defenses. “What do you mean?”
“Sara, I’m not good at saying what I feel. I never have been.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew a sheaf of papers, and held them out.
She took them hesitantly. “What is this?”
“The deed for Hibberton Hall. I’ve decided to sell it.”
“How could you?” she asked, her heart squeezing painfully. He was leaving Hibberton—leaving her. His fingers tightened over the papers. “I can’t believe you’d just let it go.”
His gaze narrowed. “Why do you care?”
“I’m very fond of the Hall. I thought you were, too.”
“I am,” he said simply. “But I want you and our child to have a roof over your heads, a place of your own. Hibberton Hall is yours.”
She looked at the packet. “You said you were selling it.”
“I’m a rake, Sara. There is always a price.”
A fluttering hope warmed her heart. “What’s your price?”