The Last Duke (The 1797 Club Book 10)

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The Last Duke (The 1797 Club Book 10) Page 17

by Jess Michaels


  Phoebe shrugged. “That would be nice.” Her eyes lit up. “And the maids were saying Kit would marry soon. That he has to because he’s duke now and all dukes get married. Maybe he’ll have babies, too. Then I won’t be so alone and I’ll be an auntie.”

  Sarah bent her head at the sharp reminder that Phoebe was exactly right. She’d said it herself, multiple times. Kit was duty-bound to carry on his father’s legacy. He would do that with a woman of quality. Someone who would bring more prestige to the line of Kingsacre. And Phoebe wasn’t wrong that it would likely happen sooner rather than later.

  “Shall we go down?” Sarah asked, rising to her feet and blinking hard at the tears those facts had brought to her eyes.

  Phoebe grabbed for her hand, grounding her back where she was meant to be, and smiled up at her. “Yes.”

  They walked from the room together and down into the foyer. Already Sarah could see the carriages gathered outside. After luncheon, the departing guests would include Matthew and Isabel. Her heart hurt as she thought of her dearest friend riding away. Sarah had felt reconnected with her these last few days and would miss her advice and laughter. They would write, but…but it would never be as it was before Sarah’s fall. No matter what Isabel said.

  Of course, Kit was there, too, standing in the midst of his friends, talking to them, smiling as they said their farewells. When he saw Sarah, he nodded to her, his gaze held on her, but then he was back to being duke.

  And that was how it was supposed to be. She accepted it.

  Phoebe ran forward to cuddle with the children, Sarah sidled up to Isabel. Her friend slid an arm around her and drew her away from the fray gently. “You look pale,” she said. “Are you well?”

  Sarah managed a delicate shrug because she couldn’t lie. Not to Isabel. “It’s a long story. One that is not appropriate to tell at present.”

  Isabel’s brows lifted. “Then perhaps once the carriages are on their way, you and I should take Phoebe for a walk. While she picks wildflowers, you can tell me all about it.”

  “I would like a few moments with you,” Sarah said, resting her head on Isabel’s shoulder. “Before you leave me.”

  “I’ll come back,” Isabel said with a smile.

  “It won’t be the same.” Sarah found her gaze sliding to Kit again. He looked at her again, then stepped away, turning his back. Her brow wrinkled. It seemed her conversation with him after they made love had been accepted. He would hardly look at her now. She was back to being his servant.

  And that meant she had done the right thing. Now she just had to convince her aching heart. The one that loved the man and the one that knew it didn’t make a difference.

  Kit stood on the terrace, watching as Isabel, Sarah and Phoebe walked along the garden path away from the house. His sister was skipping ahead, her auburn curls bobbing in the sun, while Isabel and Sarah had their heads together in what looked to be a serious talk.

  About him?

  He could only guess. And only guess what Sarah would say about him after last night. He knew he had been standoffish with her in the foyer. He had to be. He was still too shocked by what he’d read from his father’s journals to be anything but.

  It turned out he’d mentioned Sarah a great deal over the years. Enough to fill half his father’s Foolishness journal.

  “Why were you so cool to Sarah today?” Kit turned toward Matthew as his friend stepped up beside him on the terrace and looked out at the departing women together. “Especially if you’re going to immediately moon after her as she walks away.”

  “I’m not mooning,” Kit muttered. “And I wasn’t cool. I was simply focusing on my departing friends.”

  Matthew arched a brow and Kit sighed. There was no use lying to his friend. Matthew would just wheedle until he had it out. And right now Kit needed advice.

  “It’s everything,” he admitted. “I was trying to convince myself that the connection I’ve built with Sarah these last few weeks has been one born of grief and gratitude, nothing more. But evidence keeps mounting that I’m wrong.”

  “Such as what Meg said to you,” Matthew said.

  Kit rolled his eyes. “Of course that information has circulated.”

  “It’s us,” Matthew laughed. “I know she offered a theory that you liked Sarah and that’s why you were so angry about the situation with her and Simon and Meg.”

  “I tried to push that off, tried to pretend it couldn’t be true, but it’s needled me. And this morning I discovered…”

  Matthew turned toward him in concern when he trailed off. “Discovered?”

  “My father believed I cared for Sarah for four years. He kept a damned list of every time I mentioned her.”

  Matthew smiled slightly. “That sounds like him. A life of lists…”

  “Oh, don’t—I’ve had that saying of his slapping my face too much recently,” Kit said with a shake of his head. “Matthew, there are dozens of times I mentioned her either to him or around him. Dozens and dozens. And I know I spoke to all of you about her, too, in the years since I overheard her talking to Meg.”

  “I wouldn’t have called you fixated,” Matthew said gently. “But interested, yes.”

  “So let us guess that I talked about her hundreds of times.” Kit stared out at her figure in the distance. Even from this far he recognized the twitch of her hips, the bounce of her gait. Because he’d been observing her, not just in judgment, but something more.

  And he’d been too blind to see it. Or too afraid?

  “What are you saying?” Matthew asked.

  “That everything I believed, everything in my world, has been turned upside down, including whatever I thought was true about this woman.”

  Matthew nodded slowly and then said, “I understand that, you know. I almost made the same mistake.”

  “Mistake?” Kit repeated, glancing at him.

  “You have realized that maybe you always cared, yes?” Kit couldn’t deny it, so he nodded and Matthew continued, “And that terrifies you because you thought you knew your mind and your heart. So now you’re putting up a wall. Like you did this morning.”

  Kit couldn’t argue that. In his heart, he knew there was truth to it. Once again, he nodded.

  Matthew held up his hands. “There’s the mistake. When I realized I cared for Isabel, despite everything I believed about her motives, I grew colder, too. I almost convinced her to give up on me. Can you imagine if she had? The woman saved my life. If I didn’t have her I would be…” He shook his head. “I’d be lost. Still lost.”

  Kit sighed. “But my situation is different, isn’t it?”

  “How? You are also dealing with grief and confusion and responsibility, and there she is…right in the middle of it all. Lighting up your world with just a glance.”

  “How do you know that?” Kit asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Matthew arched a brow. “Because anyone who sees you together can see it. This connection growing between you, that is a life. Your life, Kit. And if you throw that away because it scares you or confuses you or seems too intense for you, I can promise you’ll be sorry.”

  Kit thought of Sarah’s terror that she would be dismissed, her desperation that he had allowed to thrive. He thought of taking what she offered and giving nothing back in return. He thought of how she believed that her life was already set out in front of her, so she had to be grateful for whatever scraps he gave her.

  “I’m already sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve bungled this entire thing.”

  “Good thing there’s still time to fix it,” Matthew said.

  “Is there?”

  Matthew’s expression grew distant. Sad in a way it rarely was anymore. “She’s still alive,” he murmured. “And as long as there is life, there’s a way to make up for what we’ve done. Tomorrow this house will be almost empty. Only Diana and Lucas will remain, and if there’s anything two spies can do, it’s disappear when aske
d. They’d probably even take Phoebe along with them if you asked them very sweetly.”

  Kit chuckled. “Of course they would.”

  “And you can fix it,” Matthew said, the smile fading from his face. “You can be honest with this woman, and with yourself, perhaps for the first time in years. Risk something. Offer something.”

  “You mean marriage,” Kit said. And when those words passed his lips, they didn’t feel wrong. Or off. Or too fast. They fit. Just as he and Sarah fit.

  “I mean that life you deserve, and so does she, after everything both of you have been through.” Matthew clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You have a life filled with friends who are all happily married. Give in to the herd, Kit. Make a life with this woman who lifts your spirits with just a glance over her shoulder. You’ll never be sorry for that, just sorry if you walk away out of some foolishness.”

  Kit flinched at the same word his father had used to describe his infatuation with Sarah. Or perhaps it was about Kit’s denial of their connection all those years. Either way, it fit.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said. “And how to approach her.”

  “Good,” Matthew said, and wrapped an arm around him. “Now come on. The rest are in the billiard room and I want to watch you trounce James in a game before we all depart. You know he hates being dethroned as master of the table.”

  Kit laughed as he followed his friend inside. But in truth, he wasn’t certain he would be able to beat James as easily as he sometimes did. His mind was spinning right now. And there were decisions to be made.

  Or perhaps they had already been made, years ago, and now it was just about taking the future he’d secretly wanted all along.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sarah stepped into the parlor and looked around with a frown. She had been searching the house for Phoebe for the last twenty minutes, but had not been able to locate her anywhere. She wasn’t nervous about that. After all, Phoebe was a curious little girl, and she liked to play and hide. Plus, Diana and Lucas were still at the house for another day after everyone else’s departures the prior afternoon. She could very well be with them.

  Yet she still felt uncomfortable that she had somehow lost track of her charge. Especially since she might soon be forced to ask Kit about it. He had been so strange toward her since they parted in his bedroom what felt like a lifetime ago, though it wasn’t.

  She was trying hard not to take that personally or let it hurt her. But oh, how much she missed the unexpected connection they’d formed. She missed his kiss and his touch. She missed him, even though they were living in the same home. In some ways, that made it all worse. He was so close, and yet so out of reach.

  She sighed and shook her head. She needed to focus on her work. That was what she did when everything went wrong. This would be no different.

  Thrusting back her shoulders, she stepped into the next parlor. It was as empty as the previous one, and she pivoted to go but nearly ran straight into Barrymore.

  The butler straightened his jacket and nodded at her. “Miss Carlton, I have been looking for you.”

  “Ah, well, I’ve been looking all over the house for Phoebe,” she admitted. “I don’t suppose you know where she’s hiding.”

  A small smile turned up just the corners of Barrymore’s lips as he said, “I believe she and the Duke and Duchess of Willowby were going to take a long walk and a picnic.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Sarah breathed. “Though I do wonder how I missed that information.”

  Barrymore inclined his head. “Perhaps the Duke of Kingsacre intended to tell you about it. He is asking to see you in his study.”

  Sarah’s heart thudded so loudly in her chest that she was afraid the butler would hear it. She forced a smile. “I will join His Grace there right away. Thank you, Barrymore.”

  He exited the room with a slight nod, and when he was gone, Sarah gripped the doorjamb with one hand. She would be alone with Kit, the first time since she’d given him her innocence and her farewell. What would he say? What would he do? How would she keep herself from launching into his arms and declaring her love for him like a ninny?

  “No,” she said to herself as she straightened up and smoothed her gown carefully. “You can do this. One step at a time, that is all.”

  So she took that step, then another, all the way down the hall and to the closed door of Kit’s study. She hesitated, thinking of all the times she had come in here and found him. When he’d talked to her about his grief, when he’d touched her and awoken things in her she hadn’t ever allowed herself to feel.

  And now she would have to look at him with the cool detachment of a servant and forget that this was one of her favorite rooms in his house because they’d shared so much in it.

  She knocked, and Kit’s voice responded immediately. “Enter.”

  As she did so, she caught her breath. She hadn’t seen Kit at breakfast, and now she drank in the sight of him. He was standing at the fireplace, half-facing the door. He must have a meeting later in the day, for he was dressed very formally, in a brocaded waistcoat, a perfectly tied cravat, trousers that fit his backside just a tad too seductively. He was even wearing gloves. He looked every inch the duke in that moment, and her heart was throbbing wildly now as she struggled to remember how to breathe around him.

  “Barrymore said you were asking for me,” she said as she stepped into his study. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

  “You didn’t,” he said, his tone as formal as his appearance. “Will you close the door, please?”

  Her hands shook as she turned and did as he asked. For a moment her hand lingered on the finely carved wooden surface as she tried to collect herself. Then she faced him with what she hoped was a benign expression. “How can I be of service, Your Grace?”

  He worried his hands in front of himself for a moment, and his cheek twitched, almost like he was…nervous. Which made her own nervousness multiply, as well. Oh God, were they back to this? Would he sack her? She couldn’t let herself believe he would do so, but perhaps he had reconsidered the prudence of their affair and—

  “I’m not going to dismiss you, Sarah,” he said at last.

  She blinked. “I—how did you—”

  “I think I know you by now,” he said, and the flutter of a smile crossed his lips that lifted some of the tension. “Please don’t think so low of me.”

  She let out a sigh of relief. “It is habit to think you are always ready to let me go,” she said. “And I apologize that it is where my mind takes me when I’m uncertain. It will fade with time, I’m sure.”

  He shook his head. “It is my fault, you ought not apologize. I was…I was difficult to you, to say the least, over the years. It will take more than a few weeks of doing the right thing to make you forget the past. I deserve your doubt—I earned it with my actions. I hope I will earn your faith the same way.”

  She took half a step closer. It was all she could allow herself. It she came any nearer, she would touch him and she’d already declared that she couldn’t do that again. No matter what she wanted.

  “Let us start again,” she said gently.

  “Would that we could,” he mused.

  “Barrymore said you were asking for me to join you. How can I be of service, Your Grace?”

  “Sarah, a great many things have become clear to me in the past few weeks,” he said, pacing a few steps closer. “My father’s death focused a great many facts for me. As did your brush with death. Things I hadn’t let myself see. Let myself believe. And now they are right in front of me and I know what I must do.”

  She blinked. “I…see? No, I don’t see. To what are you referring?”

  “Your father was Mr. Seth Carlton. Third son of a second son to the Viscount Carlton.”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “Though my father had very little relationship with the Lord Carlton. They had a falling out before I was born. And of course my fathe
r had his troubles, so that is probably why the proper part of our family cut us away.”

  He nodded. “You had a chance at a good match thanks to those family ties, severed or not. I realize it was circumstances out of your control that kept you from that match.”

  She shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, I’m confused as to what you are trying to say to me. My past means little now, my connections mean nothing. I am your sister’s governess. That is the path to my future and I see no other, if you are worried I would somehow seek a union.”

  “You would be happy if you never wed?” he asked, and there was a sadness that entered his eyes.

  “I have not the privilege to make a decision on that score. It is what it is, Kit.” She tried to keep her affect flat, so he wouldn’t see how painful it was to discuss this subject and most especially with him.

  He moved closer, and now he reached out to take her hand. “I didn’t have Barrymore send you here to have you be of some service to me. It’s because I wanted to speak to you about…about…I wanted to ask you…to tell you…”

  He shook his head in frustration and she had no idea how to help, but before she could try there was a knock on the door. Kit released her hand and shoved his fingers through his hair, mussing that image of perfection he had presented when she first entered the room.

  “Yes, what is it?” he snapped.

  Barrymore entered, his face red and his hands unsteady. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I know what you asked, what you required, but…but there has been a development.”

  Kit threw up his hands. “A development. Is my sister well?”

  “I assume so—she is still out with the Willowby party.”

  “Then this could not have waited?” Kit asked. “I was in the middle of something.”

  Sarah stared at his upset, his anger, which he so rarely showed. She wasn’t exactly certain what he had been in the middle of in his mind. She was still confused as to why he’d called her. Their entire exchange had been…odd.

 

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