by Gill, Tamara
The after-dinner drinks were no different. Sarah sat on a settee watching as Molly and Hugh toasted her and Giles yet again, her brother's wide smile and laughing eyes telling all in attendance how very pleased he was for his sister. Even if this morning, he'd been so very mad.
Sarah caught the eye of Lady Rackliffe, who excused herself from her small social circle and strolled over to Sarah.
The forthcoming conversation, as awkward as it would be, had to be had. Lady Rackliffe was, after all, once betrothed to Giles. No doubt, the woman would, at the very least, have to remind Sarah that she was asked first, no matter what the outcome had been for them both.
"Lady Sarah, may I say how very happy I am for you and Lord Gordan? You shall be very happy, I'm sure," she said, sitting next to her and sipping her wine.
"Thank you, my lady. That is very kind of you to say." Sarah almost rolled her eyes at the banality of their conversation. Even so, she did not wish to extend their little tête-a-tête any more than she had to. They had never been friends in the past. Certainly, Lady Rackliffe thought herself above most within society, even within her own circle of friends.
"I must say the news of your betrothal to Giles has shocked me. I did not even know there was anything representing affection between you both. From knowing Giles all these years, how he lived his life in London, I'm surprised you accepted him so quickly."
Sarah stiffened her back, refusing to let this woman's words deflate her agreeable mood. "Lord Gordan," she said, reminding Lady Rackliffe that she no longer had the right to use his given name. She threw that away the moment she threw his lordship over for Lord Rackliffe. "He is an honorable man. I have little concern about his life before me. I think him the best of men and one who'll make me extremely happy."
The idea of days and nights in his company, to wake up in his arms, have his children, sent a thrill through her she'd not felt since the moment she closed the space between them and kissed him on a moonlit terrace in London ten years before.
Lady Rackliffe's mouth pinched into a displeased line. "Oh, I'm sure he will not stray, my dear. But," she said, biting her lip, "it does seem odd that his morals would allow this change of heart. You know why, do you not, he never offered for your hand during your first Season. Why no one offered."
Sarah was not sure she wanted to know, certainly not from this viperous, gossiping snake.
"I do not know, no." Nor did she wish to be privy to the details. What was in the past as far as she was concerned needed to stay there. If she were to endure the ton and re-enter society, she had to be able to let go of their wrongdoing to her brother and move forward without hate in her heart.
Lady Rackliffe chuckled a high-pitched cackle that made her ears hurt. "The scandal, of course," she whispered, making sure no one else could hear. "Giles's father was friends with your late mama. He did not approve of the scandal Lord Hugh had bestowed on the family. Of course, even knowing the truth as we do now that it was the duke, and oldest brother Henry who was at fault, the late Lord Gordan did not know that.
“He saw his good friend, the duchess heartbroken that her son had acted in such a way and refused to counter a friendship between Giles and Hugh. Had demanded Giles remove himself from your family and cease all contact. Of course, he did. Giles was always a good son to his parents. He set off to London, courted me, and asked for my hand before the first week of the Season had ended."
Sarah swallowed past the lump in her throat at Lady Rackliffe's words. Was this true? Had Giles thrown them aside like trash to appease his father? She took a sip of wine, needing at that very moment more fortification than this. A hard whiskey or brandy would do very well to dull the ache in her chest.
"You are mistaken, my lady. Giles would not have forgone a lifelong friendship with my family regarding a scandal that was of the duke's making."
Lady Rackliffe shrugged, smirking. "Well, did he visit Lord Farley when he lived in Rome? Did Lord Gordan travel down to Kent and visit you here at the Abbey? I think the fact that he did not is proof enough, no?"
Sarah fought to breathe. She looked up and met the contemplative stare of Giles. Not wanting to confront him here, she threw him a wobbly smile. He grinned back at her, and her heart broke in her chest.
He'd believed the lie? Had towed his father's line and thrown them out with the scandal. Had ceased his friendship with Hugh and her due to not wishing to dirty his name by the association.
How could he have done such a thing? She and Hugh were innocent of the crime. Certainly, she had nothing to do with what her mother and elder brother had concocted to hide.
All the years she never saw or heard from him came rushing back, the pain his absence had caused in her heart. The past week with him here at the Abbey, she had allowed him to make her forget his wrongdoing.
She was a fool to have let his pretty face and words trick her into disregarding the truth that now having been told was blatantly obvious.
"Lord Gordan was busy elsewhere, that is all." It was all Sarah could say in defense of Lady Rackliffe's words. What else could she say at hearing such a devastating truth about the man she had agreed to marry?
"I know that you held a tendre for Giles during our first Season, and you must know that I did not mean to steal him from you. Our family was not going through a troubled time as your own, and the late marquess thought I was the better match for Giles. He agreed, of course, and offered for my hand. I hope you weren't too heartbroken, my dear, for look at you now. You have won him in the end."
Lady Rackliffe's tone was lathed with sarcasm and hate, each word dripping with scorn. Sarah met her ladyship's gaze, her own narrowing in inspection.
"Which begs the question as to why you would throw him over for the ancient and decrepit Lord Rackliffe? I know that if I had the choice between Lord Gordan and Lord Rackliffe, I certainly would not have picked a gentleman who was old enough to be my great grandfather." Sarah downed her wine in one swallow. "You must have loved him a great deal to have married a gentleman fifty years your senior." Sarah waved her empty crystal glass before Lady Rackliffe's face. "If you'll excuse me, I need another glass of wine. A lot more celebrating to be had."
Sarah stood and, without a backward glance at the gaping Lady Rackliffe, joined Giles, who was speaking to the Duke and Duchess of Whitstone.
Tonight was not the time, Sarah reminded herself. Later, she would sneak to Giles's room and ask him the truth. Only then would she know what she would do and what her future would encompass.
Chapter 14
Sarah paced her bedroom late that evening, the skirts of her pink silk shift and dressing gown billowing about her legs. The house the past hour had been quiet. Was Giles in his room? Or was he still downstairs with her brother and celebrating the impending wedding? An event that she was not certain would take place, not now that she knew why he'd abandoned them all those years ago.
A light scratch sounded on her door, and her pacing ceased. She flew to the door, cracking it open a little to see who was there. Giles's handsome, smiling visage greeted her, and she stepped back, letting him in. He smiled at her, reaching for her the moment she shut and locked the door. Sarah stepped back, holding up her hand. "We need to talk. Before anything else is settled between us."
He frowned, his face a mask of confusion. "Very well. What is it that you wish to discuss?"
Sarah walked over to the settee before her fire and sat. Giles joined her, taking her hand. She didn't pull away as she should. Instead, she allowed the small gesture, if only to will herself to what she must ask.
"I spoke with Lady Rackliffe tonight, and she explained your betrothal to her with a little more clarity."
"Really." His brows drew farther together still, his eyes narrowing. "What did she say?"
"Did you push me away the night I kissed you because of the scandal that was ripping my family apart?"
He ran a hand over his jaw, and Sarah could see he was choosing his words carefully. An inkling
of fear rippled through her. So there was truth to Lady Rackliffe's words.
"When you kissed me, I wasn't prepared for what that kiss would mean."
Sarah frowned, knowing only too well what that kiss meant to her at least. It had changed her world, made her realize to the very core of her soul that she wanted him, and no one else. For all the years she'd pined for him, longed for him to look her way had not been an impossible dream. Had it meant anything to Giles? Or had she been nothing but an annoyance, a walking scandal that he did not want to be associated with?
"What do you even mean by that?"
He gestured between them. "Your kiss unraveled the world that I convinced myself I wanted. I was betrothed to Edith for only one day and could not cry off. I was trapped, furious at myself that I had chosen the wrong woman."
She met his gaze, wishing that were true, but it was not all of his truth. There were parts of his story he was keeping from her. "Did your father command you cease your friendship with our family over what Hugh was accused of? Even though you of all people, one of our closest friends, should have known Hugh could not be guilty of such a crime."
He was silent a moment, a muscle working in his jaw. He stood, striding to the mantel, leaning on it as he considered the roaring flames in the hearth. "My father was not an easy man, Sarah. Certainly was not one whom a son would go up against." He turned, meeting her gaze, and the fear that lurked in his eyes made her stomach churn. She hated to see him so fearful of the truth. Only someone guilty of the crime, understood the ramifications, would be troubled. "My father demanded me to marry Edith, or he would cut me off. Leave me to rot, I believe, were his words."
"Your father was my mother's friend for years. How could he hate her son so much as to demand this of you?" To be so cruel did not make sense. The late marquess could not have been so blind and wicked.
"They remained friends, even though he ensured the association did not sully his son and only heir. When Edith did not show up at the church for our wedding, my father's fight to tell me what to do seemed to dissipate from that point onward. He became an old man overnight, and within three years was gone."
"What about all the other years you stayed away?" She shook her head, fisting her hands in her lap. "Why? If I meant so very much to you, why did you let me rot in Kent? Left me under the protection of a brother who gave no security at all."
"I thought you shunned me. I did not think that you wanted anything further to do with me after the way I treated you after our kiss."
"I did not like you at all, that is true, but if you came to me then, explained why you had acted as you did, it would not have been so bad, but now…" Sarah stood, coming before him. "I could not have meant any great deal to you if you stayed away. You believed the scandal, didn't you? You knew Henry was a rogue, hell-bent on causing and living a debauched life, and still, you believed Hugh was guilty of the crime against Miss Cox."
"I did not believe that of Hugh. Never." He clasped her hands, squeezing them. "Please, Sarah, you must understand."
"No, I do not need to understand anything. I do not need to believe you at all." She tore her hands away, putting distance between them. "You lied to me, and worse is that your ex-betrothed threw the truth in my face." How many others in the ton would laugh at her for being so blind? Had Lady Rackliffe told her knowledge regarding Giles and Sarah to everyone at the house party? Were they laughing at her behind her back?
Humiliation tore through her and anger thrummed in her veins that the ton was once again laughing at her family. Snickering and speaking about them behind their backs.
He stared down at her, a shadow crossing his eyes. "I did not tell Lady Rackliffe anything. If she knew anything at all, it was at my father's doing."
"You've made a fool of me, Giles, and I won't stand for it. I promised myself years ago that I would never allow the ton to laugh and criticize my family. I have not, to this day, missed the society that I once graced. I cannot marry a man who believed Hugh was guilty. A man who allowed his father to dictate whom he should marry all because of a lie. Did you try to contact Hugh at all when he was in Rome?"
Giles dropped his hands at his sides, his face paling. "I did not."
Sarah shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. How had she not seen the reason why Giles had cut them off? It was not simply because she'd thrown herself at him, and he did not feel the same way. It was because he'd been told to stay away, to remove his oldest friends from his life. Do as he was told or else.
"I cannot marry you, Giles."
Sarah started for the door, needing him to leave. A hand clamped about her arm, wrenching her back. "You're crying off from our understanding? Even though I love you as much as you love me?"
His declaration sent a frisson of pleasure to course through her, but she pushed it down, stomped on it until it was no more. Her heart ached in her chest, her throat tight with unshed tears. She would not give in to emotion. She'd learned a long time ago to remain calm, don't show a response to situations that could cause her pain or give others power over her. "I will not marry a man who treated my family so poorly. Did you know how I suffered here in England without Hugh? Without you?"
The pitying look he bestowed on her fired her temper. She paced before him, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. "Henry was awful after he schemed his way out of ruining Miss Cox. He threw parties here, lived for nothing but debauchery and strife. I had no one. Society shunned me, so I stayed here, hiding like some felon who had committed a crime. His friends would come from town, the gentleman I had danced with during my first Season. I soon learned to be wary. They were wont to follow Henry's etiquette. Whenever my brother came to stay, I fled to the dowager house."
He took a step toward her, and she put out her hand, stopping him. "I do not need your comfort."
"I did not know, Sarah. I would have come had I known. I'm sorry."
"Everyone knew what Henry was like, you more than anyone else, but you chose to stay away. I was not important enough to you that you would come and visit like you had when we were younger. I allowed myself to be swept up in your attention to me the past week. Allowed your sweet words and even sweeter kisses to taint my recollection of the past. How fortunate Lady Rackliffe reminded me of my failing."
A muscle worked in his jaw, and she looked toward the fire, not wanting to see the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. "I made a mistake, do not punish us both for the rest of our lives by doing this, Sarah."
"Leave," she said, her voice cold and emotionless, just as her soul was right at this very moment. He'd left her before. Surely she would survive if he left her again.
"This is a mistake." Giles started for the door, pausing at her side a moment. Sarah willed him to leave. To go now. If he stopped, if he pulled her into his arms, she wasn't certain she would be so strong to deny him.
Sarah did not respond, merely listened as her door opened and closed quietly behind the one man in the world she did love and who, for the second time in her short life, had broken her heart.
Chapter 15
The following morning Giles waited in the Duke of St. Albans' study, needing to speak to him before the day commenced. His gut churned, his eyes itched with a lack of sleep. Would Hugh aid him in winning Sarah back, or tell him to bugger off after hearing why he'd distanced himself for so many years from Hugh's family?
The duke strode into the room, his steps slowing when he saw him seated before his desk. "Gordan?" He came the rest of the way into the room, slipping his tall frame into his leather-back chair. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" His Grace asked, smiling.
Giles wondered how long the comradeship would last, considering he'd lied to the duke's sister, and Hugh also. Giles could only hope his old school friend would let the past be. They had all made mistakes, granted this was one of the biggest that Giles had made. And one he wanted to right before he lost the only woman he'd ever loved.
Something about the knowing depths of the duke's gaz
e told him he may have already heard why he wished to see him this morning.
"St. Albans," he said, nodding in welcome. "I need to speak to you quite urgently. It's important."
"I believe it is." His Grace narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "Sarah did not appear to be the incandescent happy bride of the evening before at breakfast. Have you quarreled?"
Giles cleared his throat. You could say that. "Sarah no longer wishes to marry me, and after what I'm about to tell you, I would not be surprised if you wish for me to leave the Christmas festivities."
The duke raised his brow, throwing him a contemplative inspection. "Well, that does sound ominous. What happened?" he asked.
Giles told him of his engagement to Edith. How the union came about at the behest of his father. How his father had wanted to distance his only son and heir from Hugh, his closest friend after the scandal, citing bad influence and being tainted by association. The kiss Sarah bestowed on him at a London ball and his reaction to the said kiss. He told Hugh all of his shame, his regrets, and mistakes.
A muscle worked on Hugh's jaw, his eyes narrowed, but he didn't utter a word. Giles met Hugh's eyes, hard, dark pools he could not read, and he waited for the demand to leave to be spoken. For him to declare he ought to let Sarah go and find another woman to marry.
Instead, the reaction Hugh gave him was not the one he expected.
He laughed. So hard, in fact, his eyes watered.
"Well, you have made a mess of things, have you not?" Hugh stood, striding over to a decanter of whiskey, pouring two good portions into crystal glasses. He came over to him, handing him one. "Drink. If you are to win my sister back, you'll need your fortification."
Giles did as Hugh bade him, the burn of the amber liquid down his throat reminding him he was alive and being so, there was the opportunity, the possibility, to win Sarah back.