by Erica Taylor
As it was an informal gathering, Sarah wasn’t required to stand in a receiving line with her brother and sister-in-law, escaping into the ballroom when well over fifty people had arrived. The ballroom was nicely decorated with boughs of greenery over each window, accented with big red bows and sprigs of holly, all woven seamlessly into the gold and white decor already in the room. Once inside, Sarah chatted with Susanna, provided chaperoning for Norah as she sought to fill her dance card, and stopped Nick before he could sneak a flask of brandy into the bowl filled with a sweet lemonade punch.
Sarah did exactly as was expected of her as the matronly widowed marchioness sister of their host. She carried out her role with elegance and dignity and did not stick her hair pins into her eyeballs or run stark naked through the room, though either would have been more enjoyable over the alternative.
“It is curious,” Susanna said, and Sarah glanced at her sister beside her, standing with Norah inside the ballroom.
“What is?” Norah asked.
“The Duchess of Foxton,” Susanna replied. “I do not know her.”
Sarah suppressed a groan. Could one moment of her life not involve the Duke or Duchess of Foxton?
“You do not know everyone, Susanna,” Sarah said.
“No,” Susanna allowed. “But she told me the other day that before her marriage, she was Lady Anna Kennedy, the daughter of the Marquess of Lindsay. We don’t have a copy of Debrett’s Peerage here, so I can’t be sure, but I’ve never heard of a Marquess of Lindsay.” Turning towards her younger sister, Susanna said, “She’s around your age, Norah, so she should have been out on the marriage mart, and I do not recognize her from any ton events.”
“You are probably just misplacing her face,” Norah said dismissively. “Of course you’ve seen her in town.”
“Have you?” Susanna asked. “Do you recognize her name? She said her maiden name was Kennedy, yet the only Kennedy family I know of only has sons.”
Frowning, Sarah asked, “Are you implying she is not who she says she is?”
“No,” Susanna replied slowly. “I do not know what I am saying, just that it is curious I’ve never met her nor heard of her, or their marriage. You would think the marriage of the Duke of Foxton would have been announced in the papers. All that was mentioned was that the old duke had died and would be succeeded by his son. It didn’t even specify the son’s name.”
“The duchess was engaged to Heathmont, the late duke’s eldest son, who predeceased their father leaving the current Foxton as the heir,” Sarah interjected, eager to hurry the conversation to its conclusion. “Heathmont died before he and Lady Anna could marry, but not before they could conceive, it would seem.”
“The duchess is carrying her husband’s brother’s child?” Susanna asked, brow furrowed.
“Could that have been any more confusing?” Norah asked, and Sarah silently agreed.
“Foxton’s actions are admirable, taking on another man’s child as his own.” Susanna said, glancing across the room again.
“He thinks he is righting a wrong,” Sarah said.
Norah eyed her older sister. “You seem to know a great deal about this, Sarah. What is your interest in the matter?”
“I have no interest in it at all,” Sarah disagreed. “Foxton’s life is his to do as he sees fit.”
“But what if his new wife isn’t who she claims to be?” Susanna asked, not willing to let it go. “Shall I have Ian look into it?”
“Whatever for?” Sarah asked, with a shake of her head. “It’s not our business, Susanna.” The last thing she needed was to be caught poking about in William’s private matters, like an errant love-sick ninny who was unhealthily attached. Goodness, she hoped that wasn’t what she was. She knew she had been caught up in the excitement of her time with William—her gallant knight, her Galahad. But now things had changed, and this time he had swooped in to save someone else. A lady in need, carrying what remained of his dead brother, a link to a past he didn’t want. Sarah knew he would not have refused to aid Anna in any way possible.
Sarah wanted to hate the woman. She wished Anna were ugly and rude or something horrid so she could find reason to wish horrible things on the woman who had taken William away from her. But Anna was gentle and kind and had lost the love of her life rather suddenly. Sarah could not hate Anna, much as she could not hate herself for tumbling head over heels in love with William.
Rise above, Sarah said to herself. There was no reason to dwell on what could have been with William—that was all over.
Ian appeared at her side, a sheepish grin on his face.
“What have you done now?” Sarah asked, not trusting the glee that was dancing in her brother-in-law’s eyes.
“I’ve done nothing,” Ian replied in mock horror. “And I take offense to the accusation. I merely wanted steal my wife’s attentions for the evening.” He looked expectantly at Susanna, whose brows rose in surprise, but her look quickly melted into something deeper than affection. Glancing between the earl and his countess, Sarah wanted to fade into the background.
“I am commandeering all of Susanna’s dances for the evening,” Ian announced with a smirk.
Susanna looked at him incredulously. “Really Ian? All of them?”
Westcott shrugged. “It’s a family ball, is it not? No one will care.”
Susanna looked nervously over to Sarah, clearly worried that Sarah wouldn’t agree, as it wasn’t proper to dance more than two dances with the same person, even if that person was your spouse. To everyone’s surprise, Sarah shrugged a shoulder and agreed.
“It’s a fair point. Fine, then. Dance every dance with me, Husband. I am holding you to that promise.”
“I always make good on my promises,” Ian replied, pulling Susanna towards the convening couples.
Sarah watched the newlyweds as the crowd engulfed them into their masses and withheld a sigh. Ian was everything Sarah had ever wished for her sister. More than she had even thought to wish for herself.
And then there was William, tall and golden-blond and dashingly handsome in his formal attire, more formal than she had ever seen before. She was finding it difficult not to stare at the way his black evening jacket hugged his broad frame, the strength in his arms belying a gentleness she would never know again. His necktie was twisted and tied into an intricate knot, more elegant than he had donned during their carriage ride. His black Hessians had been polished to a shine, and his black trousers snug against his firm behind.
Sarah watched him as discreetly as she could from across the ballroom, fighting to catch her breath and find words that didn’t come out in a moan.
“Well, well, well,” Lydia chided from behind her. “I said keep him for a night, not bring him home.”
“Oh shush,” Sarah scolded, glancing at her sister-in-law, dressed in bright blue. Somehow Lydia didn’t feel the need to dress to her widowed station, and no one ever seemed to bat an eye. Perhaps everyone knew what miserable husbands the Hartford brothers had been to their wives and never expected their widows to mourn them for so long. Perhaps Sarah’s thoughts on the rules of morning and widowhood strayed to the extreme. “None of this would have happened if not for you goading me into the ridiculous bet, which I won, by the way.”
Lydia laughed. “Yes, I will take full credit for this indiscretion of yours. What will you do, Sarah? He is married to another woman. Did you know that when you bedded him in the inn?”
“Lydia!” Sarah exclaimed in a harsh whisper.
“Oh, no one can hear us,” Lydia replied in the same manner. “Besides, no one would believe me.”
“I barely believe it myself,” Sarah said in disbelief. “How could this have happened?”
“Leave it to you to find a duke at a coaching inn and then not be able to marry him after all.”
“Thank you for that positive reminder,” Sarah replied. “What am I to do, Lyds?”
“Take him as a
lover, again,” her friend suggested with a waggle of her brows. “It’s not as though it’s not done.”
“Not by me,” Sarah replied and sighed, wistfully. “I am in agony.”
“Then maybe it’s a little death you need.”
“Oh, goodness, Lydia, must you be so vulgar?”
Lydia laughed again. “Yes, and only because it riles you so.” Sneaking a side glance her way, Lydia asked quietly, “I’ve something to tell you. Is there somewhere we can speak?”
Sarah tore her eyes away from William, glancing at her friend. She took in Lydia’s appearance, elegant to a fault, but there was something in Lydia’s eyes, laced with worry, and the cut of her gown. She seemed almost . . . larger.
“Here, let us stay close to the wall,” Sarah suggested, moving out of the crush of people surrounding the dance floor. It was lucky the weather was not more pleasant, for only half the invited guests had managed to make the drive, but it was now nearing a hundred people in attendance. Even during the season, this would be considered a success. Clara should be pleased.
“What is it Lyds?” Sarah asked, taking a seat along the bench along the wall. Other wallflowers sat further down, but Sarah and Lydia were quite effectively alone.
Lydia took her time smoothing the folds in her skirt in front of her, not looking at Sarah.
Sarah nudged Lydia with her foot. “Tell me what is wrong.”
“You remember the night in the inn,” Lydia said quietly, which was unusual because Lydia was not a quiet person by nature.
“Quite,” Sarah replied.
“You went upstairs with William and I proceeded to . . . share a pleasant evening with a gentleman,” Lydia continued.
“You left with him the following morning,” Sarah supplied, and Lydia nodded, twisting her gloved hands in her lap. Setting her hand on Lydia’s fretting ones, Sarah gave them a tight squeeze. “Lydia, whatever is the matter, just tell me. I am sure there is a way to fix whatever the problem is.”
“There isn’t,” Lydia replied, looking up at Sarah finally. “I’ve struggled for months with how to tell you this, as I fear I will hurt you and that is the last thing I want to do, you must believe me.” She clutched Sarah’s hands, Lydia’s trembling as she gave her a tight squeeze.
“Lydia, I’ve never seen you like this,” Sarah said. “You’re shaking. Darling, just tell me what is wrong?”
“I’m pregnant,” Lydia whispered.
Of course she is, was the first thing that popped into Sarah’s head, but she quickly pushed away her adverse reaction and managed a reassuring smile. It wasn’t Lydia’s fault Sarah was barren. If William was to be believed, it wasn’t her fault either, but regardless, her childless womb still ached for what would not be, even if she was forced to be happy for those around her not plagued with the same malady.
“Oh, Lydia,” she said, forcing away the tears that threatened to brim in her eyes. Lydia would see them for what they were, tears of sadness instead of tears of joy, and she didn’t deserve to see Sarah’s unhappiness in such a happy time. “You’ve made a right mess of this, haven’t you?”
“I don’t need a lecture,” Lydia said, pulling her hand away, but Sarah refused to let go and tugged it back.
“I’m not lecturing,” Sarah replied with a sigh. “I’m merely at odds with my own beliefs. For years, Lydia, you’ve done what you wanted and worn whatever color you fancied and dallied with whoever caught your eye. No one has cared one bit.”
“Some people have cared,” Lydia allowed. “But I didn’t have anyone else’s reputation to protect. You’ve a slew of sisters to be married off. You couldn’t act out Sarah, no matter how much you wanted.”
“I know, but I starting to think I’ve toed the line too carefully.” She fought the urge to search the ballroom for William. “Lydia, I am happy for you, though it seems terrifying and no doubt your life will be irrevocably changed, but you’ve wanted this for years. No matter the circumstances, you cannot be sorry it has happened.”
“What am I going to do?” Lydia asked.
“Have you told the father?” Sarah asked.
“No,” Lydia replied with a sad shake of her head.
“Do you know his name?”
“Yes, I know his name,” Lydia said with a laugh.
“Thank goodness for small miracles, I suppose,” Sarah said with a smirk. “You should begin by telling him. What’s the worst that will happen? He will turn you out?”
“I’ll be shunned,” Lydia replied. “By society, by everyone.”
“You’re not desolate, you have money and property,” Sarah reminded her. “You can retire to the country, make up some story about why you have no husband, and raise your child in peace. You wouldn’t have to deal with any of this.” Sarah waved her hand at the ballroom, the happy smiling faces, enjoying the festivities of the holiday and the charge of society. But society was a fickle creature. It didn’t take much for their smiles to turn to sneers.
“But we had a plan,” Lydia said softly, squeezing Sarah’s hands, still clasped tightly in hers. “We were going to be dragons together, grow old and crotchety and never let anyone spur us again. Now I’ve gone and ruined it.”
“That was always more of my plan than yours, don’t lie,” Sarah said, nudging her friend gently.
“It might have been your idea, but I was agreeable to it. Better to control the ton then be controlled by them. Who knew it was rather constricting at the top.”
“You’ve never let anyone contain you, Lyds,” Sarah acknowledged. “And I’ve loved you for it, even if I couldn’t follow. Plans change, Lydia,” Sarah lamented with a shrug. “Life happens, and we cannot stop it from happening. At some point we have to admit we don’t have control over everything, much to our own disappointment.” Sarah glanced away from the tearful eyes of Lydia and found William amongst the crowd. Life could be so cruel.
“You aren’t upset with me?” Lydia asked.
Sarah turned back to her. “I will be upset with you if you do not track down the father and tell him the truth.”
“What if he wants to marry me?”
Sarah laughed. “Only you would think that would be an issue.”
“He’s just a farmer, Sarah,” Lydia admitted. “Could I marry a farmer? What will my parents think? From marchioness to farmer’s wife. I will be the laughing stock of the ton. And contrary to my actions, I do care.”
“Lydia, listen to me,” Sarah said, turning again towards her friend. “What I am about to say might shock you, but here it is. In regard to what other people will think of your predicament, farmer’s wife or not, you can tell them all to sod off. It is your life, Lydia. You can choose to be miserable and toe the line as everyone expects you to, or make your own happiness.”
“You’re right, that does shock me,” Lydia replied, pulling away and regarding her friend, her eyes coursing with amusement. “Whatever has gotten into you?”
“Reality,” Sarah replied with a sigh. “But here is the other thing you need to consider, and you are not going to like it. If you bring as child into this world, without a husband at the time of his or her birth, that child will be a bastard for always. Your choices might have been brash until now, all about chasing your pleasure and your enjoyment, but you’ve now another person to be responsible for. Your decisions must be in your child’s best interest.”
“You’re right,” Lydia sighed.
“I often am.”
“I mean you are right in thinking I do not want to hear that,” Lydia corrected, pulling a handkerchief out of her reticule and dabbing at the tears in her eyes. “But I know it is true.” Her eyes shifted to something behind Sarah, and Lydia smirked.
“It seems your bad decision is heading this way,” Lydia announced with a nod towards the ballroom behind Sarah. “Look sharp, Sarah, or you might fall even more in love.”
Sarah turned in time to see William breaking through the crush, every
one oblivious to the two watering pot widows against the wall.
What does he want? Sarah wondered as they rose from the bench at his arrival.
“Good evening ladies,” William said with a slight bow. “I trust your evening is proving to be enjoyable?”
Now that you are here, things might improve, she thought recklessly. At least her conflicting feelings over William would override her conflicted feelings about Lydia’s announcement.
“Yes,” Sarah managed to say. “Lydia, allow me to introduce you to his grace, the Duke of Foxton. Your grace, my sister-in-law, Lady Radcliff.”
“Lady Lydia, if you please,” Lydia said, dipping into a light curtsy. “As there are two Lady Radcliffs, it gets ever so confusing.” Her tone was smooth, not betraying any of the emotions Sarah had just seen from her moments before. Where Sarah could mask her emotional turmoil with coolness and detachment, Lydia reverted to flirtatious.
“Aye,” William agreed.
“’Tis a shame neither my sister-in-law nor I have managed to snare a second husband,” Lydia lamented with a pretty pout. “Why, Sarah, you could be a duchess!”
Sarah pinned her with a warning glance, but Lydia ignored her. She may be darling, but Lydia could be just as meddlesome as the rest of them.
“Or a farmer’s wife,” Sarah replied, one brow arching in challenge.
Lydia laughed. “Your grace, you should take my lovely sister-in-law for a turn about the room, or a set of dances. She is much too pretty to sit against the wall.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” William admitted, with a polite smile. “As my wife seems indisposed to dancing, would you honor me with a dance?”
Sarah’s eyes flashed angrily at him, and he waited, pretending not to notice.
“I’m afraid I am not dancing this evening either,” Sarah said, fanning her face. “Perhaps my charming sister-in-law would oblige you?” She looked expectantly at Lydia.