by Wendy Vella
“I cannot—”
“You have to forget, Lady Victoria. You’re not to blame for what happened that night. And thank God you survived, for Lady Sarah’s sake. She has desperate need of you.” He smiled while she wiped her eyes. “And thank you for trusting me. It eases my mind about Lady Sarah’s situation.”
A tremulous smile lit her face. “I was correct, was I not? You did not trust John?”
He laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t entirely trust him now. But at least I know Lady Sarah will be safe in your care. And I’m relieved to think we have John Archer on our side and not against us.”
“Yes, that is a relief, is it not?” She finally managed a light laugh and wiped away the last of her tears.
There seemed little more to say. William took his leave.
Lady Sarah was beyond him now.
When he got home, he emptied his pockets and counted the notes Lady Victoria had given to him. Three hundred pounds. She had certainly paid his fee generously. And by doing so, she had put him neatly in his place. She was already protecting Lady Sarah with consummate skill.
Finally crawling into bed, he felt the cold dampness of his sheets against his skin and a sense of loneliness he could not shake. It was a long time before he fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
During the next several days, William ignored the loneliness dogging him and concentrated on the investigation. However, he could not, in good conscience, ignore Sarah’s existence. So each day, he’d face the Archers’ disapproval and visit their townhouse to inform his client of his progress.
But as the days passed, and Sarah grew into her role as a lady, their meetings grew ever more painful. In a sense, she reminded him of a loose tooth he’d had as a child. It hurt when he touched it, but he couldn’t resist toying with it. When it finally fell out, the gaping hole had bled so copiously that it ruined his favorite jacket.
Apparently, he had not learned that lesson as well as he should have.
And once more, William was knocking on the Archers’ door.
“Here again?” Mr. Archer asked when the butler led William into the sitting room.
He nodded, his restless gaze searching for Sarah. She sat on a window seat with her aunt, industriously trying to embroider some long white piece of linen. As he watched, she pricked her finger and cursed under her breath as she sucked on the wound. Lady Vee frowned and shook her head.
“Miss Sanderson,” he said, striving not to laugh at her furious expression.
She glanced up. He noted the dark circles under her eyes and pinched look between her brows. She did not appear very happy about her situation. His heart clenched in sympathy, but he straightened his shoulders. She’d grow accustomed to her situation and so would he.
“Have you made any progress today?” she asked with a frown as she threw the piece of embroidery down next to her. “I certainly have not.”
“Sarah!” her aunt exclaimed, clearly taken aback by her niece’s churlish tone.
“Some,” William said. “I’ve been researching the duke’s shipping activities. The period from 1804 until 1805 is particularly interesting, especially when you consider the events in 1801.”
Sarah rolled her eyes while her aunt maintained an almost painful look of forced interest. “1801?”
“One of Sarah’s invoices was dated April 3, 1801,” he explained. “There was a brief military action in Copenhagen on April 2 of that year. The 95th regiment was involved. Well, surely you remember? They acted as marksmen on Nelson’s flagship during the destruction of the Danish fleet.”
“And this is important to me?” Sarah asked.
“It may be.”
Sarah snorted inelegantly. She reminded him so much of the old Sarah that he smiled.
“Hush, dear, and let Mr. Trenchard speak.” Her aunt patted Sarah’s wrist.
“And you had another invoice dated at the end of November 1805.” When Sarah opened her mouth to speak, he continued, saying, “It involved the transport of supplies and injured men during the north Germany campaign. And that engagement also involved the 95th regiment, as well as the Brigade of Guards. They occupied Bremen. Then in 1805, the 95th was sent to Germany as part of a joint force with a few other European armies to fight the French.
“However, the green jackets—er, 95th—returned home by the end of the year. They didn’t achieve much—”
“And from the sound of it, neither have you,” Sarah interrupted him, abandoning her ladylike behavior with an expression of relief. After a quick glance at her aunt, she added, “But I sincerely appreciate the history lesson.”
“I am sure Mr. Trenchard is doing his best,” Lady Victoria assured her niece.
Sarah scowled at him. “Well, I wish he’d find the murderer and be done with it. And maybe when he does, Mr. Trenchard will have the courtesy to allow the devil to finish his job and put me out of my misery before he takes him off to Newgate.”
“Sarah!” Mr. Archer and Lady Victoria exclaimed simultaneously. They stared at her, mouths agape.
Sarah looked at them, burst into tears, and ran out of the room. She slammed the door behind her so hard the sound reverberated for several seconds.
“I must apologize for my niece,” Lady Victoria said after the echoes died. “It has been very difficult for her.”
“I understand,” William said, stifling the urge to go after her. “I’m sorry to intrude—”
“Not intrusion per se,” Mr. Archer said. “Though it might be just as easy to send round your reports in the form of a brief note every day or so.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” William bowed and took his leave when Sarah failed to reappear.
Once outside, he hesitated. He had to stop worrying about Sarah. She would adapt to her new life, and he would become just another hazy memory. In the meantime, he had an inquiry to finish.
The sergeant’s comments about the Resurrection men bothered him and represented another avenue to explore. It seemed a little unlikely that anyone would have bothered to bring back the bodies just to sell them illegally to the physicians’ college. However, the duke’s ships carried supplies to the military and brought home those wounded too badly to continue fighting. Some would have perished on the journey.
So he spent the day and part of the next visiting several physicians’ colleges. He found that the small amounts listed beside the names on the list were slightly less than the price paid for bodies used for anatomical lessons. And names were never given during such transactions.
The ugly notion appeared to be just one more valueless rumor.
Several bribes and false leads later, he had no additional information. He’d almost given up when he managed to convince a clerk to find the records from one of the return trips in November 1805. A passenger list of the wounded from the German campaign had survived.
William’s heart hammered as he matched the first few names on his list against the passengers. By the time he was halfway through, he knew he had found the connection. All the names on his list were passengers on the ship, the Victorious, although the names made up only about two-thirds of the passengers.
The ones who had died on the passage home?
Ironically, as far as William could tell, Carnaby’s son truly had been on the ship the French had sunk. At least his body had not been sold as an anonymous corpse for use as a physician’s teaching aid.
What a grotesquely pathetic way to improve one’s finances, though. William strongly suspected the sale of spoiled food to the military was the real basis of the duke’s fiscal recovery. He couldn’t imagine any peer being interested in the miniscule amounts garnered by selling bodies to the physicians’ college.
Tired and wary of the political ramifications of his inquiries, William returned to Second Sons. He hoped to consider the implications, but he discovered guests awaiting him.
“Lady Victoria and Lady Sarah!” He greeted the pair before ushering them into his office. His gaze rested
repeatedly on Lady Sarah, shocked at her elegant appearance.
The change was extraordinary. A poke bonnet trimmed with lace framed her square face and hid her short hair. And she wore a deep blue walking gown with a severe Spencer shaped rather like a man’s jacket. A stock, edged with frothy lace, curled around her neck with the ends tucked into the neckline of her jacket. Pale ivory gloves hid her hands. Only her brown cheeks remained as a reminder of her previous life, and even her tan had started to fade. The sunburn on her nose had already disappeared, leaving just a light dusting of pale freckles.
But her face was wan and stiff with desperation. The golden glow was gone. The skin around her clear eyes was taut. He couldn’t stop staring at her, noting the changes only a few days had wrought. When she met his gaze, a tremor rippled over her features.
“You didn’t visit for days, and I must speak to you,” she said abruptly, her voice harsh and frantic.
“Of course,” William replied above the hammering of his heart. “Shall I ring for refreshments? Coffee or tea?”
“Lady Sarah has been exceptionally anxious to speak with you. Concerning the inquiry and your progress, I suppose—”
“No!” Lady Sarah cut off her aunt. She cast a swift glance at Lady Victoria’s surprised face. Then she swallowed and spoke again, more softly and controlled. “No. I—I left something here—in my room upstairs.”
“What was it? I can ring for the maid to bring it down for you.”
“No—no, may I go up and fetch it myself?”
“Of course,” William replied, alert to her tension.
“Could you help me, Mr. Trenchard? I’ll need your assistance. I hid it behind a piece of furniture. It’ll be too heavy for me to move on my own.”
William gazed first at Lady Sarah and then at Lady Victoria.
Lady Victoria frowned at her niece. “It would not be appropriate, as you well know Sarah, dear. Let him send the footman to retrieve it.”
“No—no, no need to do that. It will only take a moment. The footman won’t be able to find it. We’ll leave the door open while we look. Just a few minutes, that’s all.”
Lady Victoria smiled and settled back into her chair. “I suppose that will be acceptable. But do hurry, dear.”
Leaping from her chair, Lady Sarah left the room. She hesitated at the doorway with a pointed glance at William. Wondering at her air of near panic, he got up and followed her. She ran up the stairs, staying well ahead of him. After tripping several times over her long skirts, she grabbed the banister to pull herself up.
“Lady Sarah,” William called before catching her arm when they neared the top of the stairs. “What’s amiss?”
Surely, he had not been wrong about the Archers? Were they treating her badly? He examined her face again, searching for traces of tears or bruising.
“I can’t stand it!” she exclaimed, her voice breaking against her clenched teeth. “I just can’t!”
He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her quickly up the last few steps. On the landing, he wavered, but Sarah pulled him to the right, toward her old room. True to her word, though, she left the door open after they entered it.
“Lady Sarah—”
“Don’t call me that!”
“But—”
“I tell you, I shall go mad if you make me go back there! Let me stay here with you. Please! I beg of you—at least until this is all over, and I can go back—em—go back to Mr. Hawkins. If there’s still a position there. I thought I could become a lady, but I can’t.”
“Lady Sarah…” He stopped when he caught her glare. “Sarah, you know that’s impossible. You can’t stay here.”
“Why not? I stayed before.”
“When I thought you weren’t safe elsewhere.”
“I’m not safe. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I’m going mad! Lotions on my face day and night, gowns, fittings, dancing lessons! I can’t take much more of it! I tell you, I’ll go mad!”
William struggled to suppress a chuckle. Keeping his voice low, he said, “But you knew this had to happen someday, Sarah. Lady Sarah. You’re the daughter of a marquess.”
“No!” Her voice cracked. She hit William on the shoulder before rubbing the star-shaped scar on her temple. “No. Maybe once—I don’t remember clearly before the fire—but I haven’t been her for thirteen years! I don’t want to be her. I hate it! You have no idea what it’s been like.”
“Surely the Archers have been kind to you? They’ve done their best to help you, haven’t they?”
“Of course they have. I just—I just can’t do it. I can’t be the woman they want me to be. I thought I could, but I can’t. Not anymore. Please, please let me stay here with you. I was happy here. I won’t cause any trouble—I can help you.” She laid her hands on his chest, raising her face to his. “Please don’t send me back!”
Her huge, luminous gray eyes caught at him, but there was no going back. He gripped her hands with his and lowered them. “Sarah—”
“Don’t send me away. You know me. You know what I’m like. Please!” she begged, tears streaming over her cheeks.
“Sarah, I’m sorry—”
“No, no, don’t say that. I could help you,” she repeated in a rising voice. “Let me stay. You stopped visiting, and I—I love you!”
“You love me?” he echoed her words.
She had to be frantic to escape to make such an admission.
He wanted her so desperately, and yet he couldn’t admit it. He couldn’t ruin her life. Cold common sense washed over him. Whatever she felt, she would soon forget it.
“You only think you love me.”
“No, I think you’re an idiot. I know I love you.”
“I’m sorry—”
“You don’t love me.” She jerked back as if he’d slapped her.
“I do—you know that. But you’ll just have to forget. We’ll both have to forget.”
“Sandersons never forget love. Not ever.”
He shrugged. Misery hardened his eyes. “Then remember if you wish. Nonetheless, you’ll be the woman you were born to be and marry one more appropriate than I. Now—”
“You really don’t feel anything.” A bitter, watery smile crossed her face. She tried to withdraw her hands after a glance toward the open door. “You wouldn’t say that if you did. Well, I could hardly expect you to feel the same when I look more like a boy than a woman.”
“It’s not that, I just—oh, to hell with it!” He gripped her shoulders and pulled her roughly against him, covering her mouth with his.
He kissed her deeply, breathing in her fragrant warmth. Her skin smelled of rosewater and cream, and all he wanted to do was hold her.
Forever.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
For the first time in days, Sarah’s heart lifted. Surely, he felt something for her. He said he did, and his arms were strong and sure around her. He smelled of warmth and sunshine and bay. She snuggled against him, pulling him closer.
But before she was ready to release him, their kiss ended. When he gently pushed her away, a wave of coldness filled her.
“I’m sorry, Sarah—Lady Sarah—but you must realize, you can’t. I’m—I made my decision to work here.”
“I work, too. We’re the same. And you do love me, don’t you?”
He laughed at her insistence. “Yes, God help me, but that doesn’t change a thing.”
“Then I won’t be Lady Sarah. I won’t!”
“You are, and you will. Now get what you left so we can return to your aunt before she sends the footman after us.”
“I can’t. It’s my heart and my sanity that I left in your care. Why can’t I stay?”
“Because you can’t. Listen to me.” He gave her arms a brief shake. “I’m close to solving this—if it can be solved without me going to prison for slander. In any event, a few months from now, you’ll have forgotten this entire adventure. You’ll find pursuits you do enjoy. And you’ll find a man of your own
social status to love. You’ll forget all about this madness.”
“I won’t!” she declared. He was so irritatingly obtuse at times. He didn’t understand….
Her heart sank. She had been so sure he would understand. He had chosen to give up his own social circle in favor of an occupation he clearly loved.
Why did he refuse to help her do the same?
“You must be who you were born to be.” His face was hard as he took her arm and led her downstairs to Lady Victoria.
“Did you find what you left?” her aunt asked when they entered the room.
Sarah studied her, seeing the love and concern in her face, but inexplicably resenting it. She longed for the freedom she had known just a few days ago. She had been able to walk down the street alone. Now, she was accompanied wherever she went and treated as if she hadn’t the brains of a mouse.
She was the same person and yet nothing was the same.
“No,” Sarah replied. “It’s gone. I suppose I lost it somewhere along the way.”
“I’m so sorry. What was it, my dear? I realize there are some things one simply can’t replace, but perhaps…”
“Thank you, Lady Victoria, but it wasn’t that important.”
Lady Victoria nodded and folded her hands over her reticule. Sadness and sympathy flickered briefly in her eyes. Sarah had the uncomfortable feeling that Lady Victoria had been perfectly aware of what happened upstairs.
“Have you told Mr. Trenchard about the ball? Your uncle was most insistent we inform him.” Lady Victoria smiled at William. “Our nephew, the Duke of Peckham, has agreed to host the event.”
Another affair that would draw Sarah deeper into this excruciatingly horrible existence. And it was one more wedge to force her away from the life she loved. And William. If he truly loved her, why couldn’t he put a stop to this madness?
Because in spite of the warmth in his eyes, he doesn’t truly love me, a little voice said.
“I’m not sure I’m in favor of a public event of that sort,” William said.
Sarah sat up, her heart pounding. Had she misjudged him?
“I said as much to my husband,” Lady Victoria said. “However, he assures me it is the only solution. If we are to see justice served against the Duke of Rother, we must have proof. He must expose himself—oh, I wish John were here—he could explain it all so much better than I.”