“It’s just a matter of keeping them all separate,” he explained, as they walked into White’s for an afternoon drink before they would go their own ways. Within, they found the Duke of Clarence awaiting them, and as they took chairs near him at the table, Berkley continued the conversation, which David felt was hardly fair, for clearly the two other men would take the same side, the Duke newly married himself.
“What do you say, Clarence,” Berkley said, “We are currently in a debate as to what is more difficult to manage—one woman or multiple.”
The Duke’s eyes sparkled somewhat at the question.
“Had you asked me a year ago, I likely would have agreed with Redmond here, as I believe I can ascertain which of you is taking which side of this argument. However… keeping one woman happy, gentlemen, is far more rewarding than what multiple women could ever provide. Especially if that woman satisfies you more than you could ever imagine.”
“You’ve both gone soft on me,” David said despondently as they were served their drinks. “I hardly think that I shall ever feel that way. Though if I do, I know who to turn to for advice.”
His two friends just laughed at him. Sometimes David wondered why they preferred his own company to that of his brother, who was far more straight-laced and responsible. He shrugged aside the thought, not seeing the importance of it, as he began looking forward to this evening’s festivities.
*
Sarah let herself into her rooms on the first floor of the tall building. The door, though recessed down a back alley, was accessible to the street, which was both fortunate and not. It made it easy for anyone to find her if she was needed, but at the same time, it put her at additional risk. Not that she wasn’t prepared to defend herself, she thought with a smile, as she patted the dependable dagger in the piece of fabric tied around her ankle, before ensuring that her shotgun was in its resting place in the corner of the room, her handgun where she had it hidden next to her bed.
Cheapside was not as dangerous as many neighborhoods, but despite its close proximity to some of London’s better-renowned areas, there were certainly risks involved, particularly as a woman living alone on a back street. However, risks abounded no matter where the location for any young woman living alone, she thought with a bit of a laugh.
Upon arriving in London two years ago, she had little knowledge of the city nor its neighborhoods. She had been advised to find a boardinghouse for young women, and in fact had stayed in one for a time. But after two weeks, she had found the rules and boundaries to be suffocating, and had sought other lodgings where she would have the freedom to do as she pleased.
Sarah had thought her stay would be temporary. She had assumed she would find her father fairly quickly, and would know within a month or two whether or not there was any reason to remain in London. But nearly two years later, she was still here—though for how much longer, she wasn’t sure.
Without removing any of her clothing, she walked down the small corridor and tossed her bag on the hard wooden floor before throwing herself on the lumpy mattress that passed for a bed. She would have far preferred the furs she had slept upon in America, but then, this was what she could afford, and she should be grateful that she had somewhere to sleep.
Her eyes nearly closed the moment she lay her head back, but she jumped up to attention when she heard a knock at the door. Hurrying over, she opened it but a crack, shocked when she saw who stood on the other side. Her secret, apparently, was no longer that.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, as she opened the door wide to reveal three ladies standing there staring at her.
Soon upon her arrival two years ago, Sarah had the fortune to meet Lady Phoebe at one of the dances Lady Alexander had escorted her to. Soon she had been introduced to two of Lady Phoebe’s friends, Lady Elizabeth and Lady Julia, and despite the fact that she had never quite felt herself worthy to call these women friends, she had bonded with them in a way she had never thought possible. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the three of them, Sarah didn’t think she would still be here in England. Despite their closeness, however, Sarah hadn’t quite shared everything with them.
Elizabeth, Phoebe, and Julia walked the few feet until they stood in the center of her makeshift parlor room and bedroom, looking around them in shock. Sarah nearly laughed at how out of place the three ladies looked in all their finery in the middle of this run-down room. She had done the best she could to provide color to the dingy interior with a few blankets, but there was not much to it—two mismatched chairs stood around the grate, her bed was pushed against the wall, and a wooden screen separated the two.
“Is this where you live?” Phoebe asked, turning her direct gaze on Sarah, who shrugged. “It is—for the moment.”
“How could you not tell us, after all this time?” Elizabeth demanded. “We had always assumed you lived with Lady Alexander!”
“I know,” Sarah said with a sigh, sitting down upon the bed herself, as she bid the rest of them to take a seat next to her in a ratty chair across the room. “I allowed you to think it.”
“But why? And why don’t you live with her?” Julia asked, and Sarah leaned back against the wall.
“It’s a long story,” she said. “But first, how did you find me here?”
“When you didn’t attend Lady Nuffield’s party this evening, Phoebe and I were worried,”
Elizabeth explained. “We asked Lady Alexander if you had taken ill, and she wasn’t entirely sure. As Julia and Eddie were in London, we asked her to accompany us to come to visit you to assure all was well. Lady Alexander’s butler was most confused when we asked for you at her home. It was her maid who followed us out and told us where we could find you. We didn’t entirely believe her, but decided to follow her anyway.”
“I’m sorry to have worried you,” Sarah said. “One of my neighbors’ boys took ill. I believe it was some bad meat, but we got it out right quickly enough and I think he should be fine. I couldn’t leave them and it happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to get word to Lady Alexander that I wouldn’t be attending tonight.”
She looked down at herself in chagrin. She hadn’t changed from her evening wear when she had been summoned, and now her beautiful pink gown would have to be laundered or the nobility would smell her coming from far away.
Her friends nodded. They knew of her work as a medicine woman or healer—whatever one chose to call what she did—but they weren’t aware of the entirety of it, that she used her skills to survive, although more often than not many of those who asked for her help could hardly afford to pay anything. She typically gratefully accepted whatever they had to offer, be it a loaf of bread or a bag of potatoes.
“You know that I left America to find my father,” she said, attempting to determine the best way to complete the story, and they nodded. “Only I didn’t come here with the intention of meeting Lady Alexander. It was once I was upon the ship to London that I met her. She was frightfully seasick, and I helped as best I could to ease her stomach pains. In return, she was kind to me, and we became friends. Near the end of the journey, she asked what I was doing in London. I provided a small portion of the story, and she offered to act as my chaperone. As the widow of a viscount, she has access to social events to which I could never dream of an invitation. I must admit, it has been immensely helpful in order to meet a wide variety of nobles who may be around the age of my father, to try to determine whether any of them resemble me or if they might have any connection to my mother. Not that my strategy is working overly well.”
“But why didn’t Lady Alexander offer for you to live with her?” Julia asked, and Sarah shrugged.
“She never mentioned it, and her help is incredibly generous as it is. Most people are under the assumption that I am an American relative of hers, and I have found that I do not have to lie about it much—most just accept the fact. Lady Alexander made the offer with the caveat that I ask for no money or further attachment to her, which is perfectly fi
ne with me, for I have no wish for it. I believe she is a bit lonely but had no desire to disrupt her current lifestyle. It works for both of us. She wouldn’t want all manner of people at her doorstep in search of a healer.”
“That’s how you are supporting yourself here,” Elizabeth said, more in statement than question, and Sarah nodded.
“I am. Though I would do it anyway, for it seems I cannot help myself when it comes to attempting to heal what causes others pain.”
“Well,” Elizabeth said matter-of-factly. “I do wish you had told us sooner. Please tell me you have not been living here ever since you came from America.”
“I have,” Sarah said with a nod. “Nearly two years now, if you can believe it. Though… I have been thinking that it is time I give up on this quest and return home.”
“Two years!” gasped Julia as Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. “Sarah, you cannot leave us!”
“I cannot believe you have kept this from us,” Elizabeth said, as Phoebe sat in the corner watching them, patting her stomach, which had rounded once more with her second child.
“I am sorry to have deceived you,” Sarah said, “That was certainly not my intention. It just seemed… easier, and I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I suppose I can somewhat understand that, though I feel a fool,” said Elizabeth. “But now that we know, you can come and stay with me. Gabriel is eager to help you find your father, though we have not much to go on. He has made inquiries, and thus far, there are no connections to a woman and child who left for America—though I’m sure there are more than a few who had some liaisons to which they would certainly not want to admit.”
Elizabeth strode over to the wardrobe, opening it to reveal Sarah’s dresses, the only items in the room upon which she had spent any money. She had used the additional funds the letter-writer had provided her, though each season she stayed was beginning to stretch what she could afford.
“Do you have a bag into which we can pack everything?” Elizabeth asked, taking charge as she usually did.
“Thank you for your generously kind offer, Elizabeth, but I am not leaving.”
Elizabeth swirled around, looking at her incredulously. “Whyever not?”
“I’m comfortable here, and more than anything, those who need me know where to find me. They could never track me down if I were to move, particularly to one of the greatest manors in not only Mayfair but all of London.”
“You do not need to worry about providing for yourself,” Elizabeth affirmed. “We will support you in whatever you need, will we not, Phoebe?”
Phoebe nodded, though she looked somewhat hesitant.
“Of course we would, Sarah, you know that. However… this has to be what you want,” she said softly, and Sarah smiled at her.
“I appreciate that—I appreciate what all of you would like to do for me, I do,” she said. “I know if I ever need somewhere else to stay, I can turn to any of you. But for now, I will remain where I am, content in what I am able to do. And at the moment, as much as I would love you all to stay, I very much need to sleep.”
“Of course,” Phoebe said, rising from the bed and walking to the door, the other two following her, Elizabeth quite reluctantly as she spun around, continuing to look at Sarah’s accommodations. “We shall see you tomorrow.”
After they left, Sarah locked the door tightly behind them and fell back on the bed, into a long, dream-filled sleep.
Chapter Two
Another evening, another party. David walked around the edges of the room, keeping an eye out for which beautifully coiffed heads he must avoid and which ones were most likely to welcome him. He attended most of these events because his family expected it of him, for the truth was that he far preferred venues where he didn’t have to put on airs or maintain any particular facade.
He was so busy looking about him that he almost walked into a marble bust that protruded from a niche in one of the side walls. As he sidestepped it, his foot nearly got caught in the large draperies that hung to the floor over the French windows, and he realized that he had never been much of a wallflower, so to speak. For he had no idea how to navigate the edges of a fine room such as this. The room was large and meant to impose, with a fantastic, multi-layered chandelier descending from the clouds painted upon the ceiling. Great mirrors bordered the room to provide an even more expansive look, while gold-framed paintings surrounded the room above blue-and-yellow silk sofas.
The first strains of music began, and David saw Lady Lochlin coming his way. She was a beautiful woman, sultry and skilled, but she was also becoming a mite too attached for his liking, despite his repeated attempts to dissuade her. That was one thing he was always sure of—he never made promises, especially those he had no intention of keeping.
He looked around wildly for an escape and saw the back of a woman he recognized—one who was always up for a spot of fun and was as averse to a permanent attachment to him as he was to her.
“Sophia,” he murmured in her ear as he stepped up behind her and surreptitiously ran a hand down the bare skin of her arm showing between her cap sleeve and her glove. “Lovely seeing you here tonight. Fancy a dance?”
Sophia whirled around so fast, she nearly knocked him over. David took a hurried step backward as he realized that Sophia… was definitely not Sophia.
The woman, pretty in an innocent, soft way—certainly not his type—narrowed her eyes at him, studying him from head to toe in a way that made him feel quite vulnerable and exposed.
“I believe you have me confused with another, my lord,” she said, and he was stunned by the words coming from her mouth, though it was not so much what she said, but how she spoke. Her voice was almost… tender in a way, soft and lilting. Her words came out flatter than most, a strange accent that was near to his own way of speaking, yet different enough that he could certainly recognize it.
“Ah, yes,” he said, his face warming when he thought of the way he had approached her, for she clearly understood just what his relationship was with this Sophia. “Forgive me, my lady.”
“Not, my lady,” she said. “Simply Miss Jones.”
“Miss Jones!” recognition dawned at her name. “You are a friend of Lady Berkley and the Duchess of Clarence.”
“That I am,” she nodded, then added, “Lord Brentwood.”
“Ah, so you are aware of my identity,” he acknowledged, rocking back and forth on his heels, unsure of whether this was in his favor or not. “I am simply Mr. Redmond, however, and always will be, being my father’s younger son.”
“Of course,” she said, seeming only slightly embarrassed by her mistake, which was a strange one for a woman who was of a noble family. “And I am—aware of you, that is,” she nodded, and he wondered if that was laughter he read in her eyes. “You have quite the reputation, sir.”
So her familiarity with him would not work in his favor, then. Ah well. He prepared himself to depart.
“However, I would be happy to dance with you, my—Mr. Redmond.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, his manners and charm quickly covering his surprise at her ready agreement, despite the fact his original proposition had been to another woman. Most women would have told him to be gone out of sight, but it seemed this Miss Jones was the forgiving type.
He held his arm out to her, and she took it gracefully as they joined the other dancers who were preparing for the cotillion. They clasped hands, and David was shocked by the jolt that shot through his body at the contact with her, despite the gloves they were both wearing. Her hands seemed to fit so perfectly in his. David frowned at the thought racing through his mind. Of all the experiences he had with so many women, he was focusing on the feeling of her hands? Ridiculous.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, her pert, little freckled nose crunching in concern, and a rush of need to appease her ran through him.
“Of course,” he said. “It is simply… the steps of this dance. I was concentratin
g.”
Which was a lie—he had learned this dance as a child and could likely do it in his sleep. But it was the first thought that had entered his mind.
“I understand,” she said with a knowing smile as she leaned into him. “I have trouble with this one myself.”
As the music began, he could see that while he had fibbed, she was certainly telling the truth. Her lips moved as she began to count the steps, her head tilting down to gaze at her feet once the couples on the floor began to move in earnest. It was endearing, and so unlike the perfectly practiced steps of most women of his acquaintance.
They didn’t speak much—he had no wish to disrupt her timing—but instead, whenever they neared one another during the dance, he studied her.
She was of average height, which put her about a foot below him. He could tell that if he reached out a hand to brush it over her hair, it would be soft, wispy almost, the light brown color reminding him of cinnamon.
Her dress was of a pink so pale it was nearly white. While he couldn’t say he was up-to-date on all women’s fashion—not like his friend, the Duke of Clarence—her clothing looked slightly out of date, as though perhaps it was from the previous season. Still, the embroidered rosebuds along the bodice and the hem were as fitting on her as anything he could have imagined.
When the dance finally came to a close, her cheeks were flushed, and when he looked at her, all he could think was that if ever he had pictured what an angel might look like, she was standing here in front of him now.
He bowed slightly toward her.
“Miss Jones,” he said, “I thank you for the dance.”
“Thank you, Mr. Redmond,” she responded. “You have been most kind.”
“Were you expecting otherwise?” he asked, and she laughed slightly, a breathy, airy laugh that caused a tingle of pleasure to run through him. He wanted to hear more of it.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect, if I was to be honest with you.”
Lady of Charade Page 2