by Holt, Cheryl
He hadn’t returned, and she figured he was out in the yard, having the horses saddled. She drank a cup of tea. Drank another. Still, there was no sign of him.
She’d just decided not to wait any longer, to join him in the yard, when she heard booted strides out in the foyer. She glanced up, expecting Jean Pierre, but to her consternation, Raven was there instead.
She stared and stared, not comprehending what she was witnessing. Why was Raven at the coaching inn?
“Hello, Sarah.” He came over and sat in the chair Jean Pierre had vacated.
“How did you know we were here? Did you see Jean Pierre out at the stable?”
“No, I didn’t see him.”
His expression was odd, as if he was regretful or embarrassed.
“Where is he?”
“He’s gone, Sarah.”
“Gone…where?”
“To France.”
“He…what?”
“He left.”
She cocked her head, confused, as if Raven was speaking in a foreign language.
“We’re on our way to Bramble Bay.” Pointlessly, she added, “We’re getting married.”
“He didn’t want to get married.”
“What? Of course he wanted to. The celebration is all planned. We applied for a Special License and everything.”
Her comments sounded plaintive and naïve, as if she was the stupidest woman who’d ever lived, as if she’d been seduced by a rogue and was only now learning the true extent of her folly.
“He loved you, Sarah. Never think he didn’t. That’s why he went.”
“Because he loved me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
Raven stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
“To where?”
“To Bramble Bay. I’m here to take you home.”
“But…but…Jean Pierre was taking me. Don’t tell me he isn’t.”
Raven was quiet for a lengthy interval, then he murmured, “When enough time has passed, you’ll realize this is for the best.”
“It’s not for the best. I have to see him! I have to talk to him!”
“He doesn’t wish to talk to you. I’m sorry.”
He gestured to the door, and she studied him, the door, him again. She yearned to jump up and rush outside, to climb onto her horse and race after Jean Pierre. How many minutes had elapsed? How far had he traveled? Which direction had he ridden?
But with a heavy heart, she grasped that if he didn’t want to be found, he never would be.
The strength had gone out of her legs, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t push back her chair, couldn’t stand.
He left…he left…he left…
The words kept ringing in her mind.
How long ago had he decided?
If Raven had been informed of where they would be and when—he’d come to fetch her as if she was a stray dog on the side of the road—then Jean Pierre had never intended to marry her. He’d ruined her with impunity, then fled. Apparently, he was his father’s son in every way.
Every detail about him had been a lie. She’d imbued him with character traits he didn’t possess, had convinced herself that he could change, that he could become the man she’d dreamed he could be rather than the man he was.
Though she’d temporarily believed differently, she wasn’t unique or special, wasn’t able to entice and hold a man like John Sinclair. Not at all. Hadn’t Mildred always said as much? Her nephew was simply reconfirming her low opinion.
What now? What was Sarah to do with herself?
For so many months, her entire world had revolved around him. She’d assumed they would be together. Yet a connection was the very last thing he’d envisioned. All this time, what had he thought? What had he planned?
While she’d been weaving a grand scheme for the future where they would be blissfully content at Bramble Bay, he’d been watching the rear door, wondering if it would be a good moment to sneak off.
His ability to walk away as if she’d meant nothing, as if she’d given him nothing, was cruel and malicious. How could he treat her so badly?
A wave of fury swept through her. It was so virulent that she was glad she was sitting down when it hit. If she’d been standing, the force of it might have knocked her over.
“Yes, let’s go home,”she mumbled more to herself than to Raven. “And swear to me that you won’t mention his name to me ever again.”
“Sarah, he didn’t feel he was worthy of you. You’re so fine, and he—”
“Swear to me!”
He sighed. “All right, I won’t.”
She lurched to her feet and staggered out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“I suppose I would consider it.”
“You’re too kind, Sheldon. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
Mildred was in the hall outside Sheldon’s front parlor. He was sequestered with a female, the door ajar, and she frowned, wondering to whom he was speaking.
He’d been gone for several days and was finally home. She’d had a maid fix her hair, had put on her best dress, then hurried down to greet him as if they were married, as if she was his wife.
She kept trying to solidify their friendship, eager for him to recognize that she was helpful and competent, but he ignored her every attempt to ingratiate herself.
Quietly, she stepped nearer and peeked in. To her dismay, Sarah was with him, sitting in the exact spot where Mildred sat in the evenings when it was late and she and Sheldon were alone.
“There are many issues to contemplate,”Sheldon was saying. “I’ll have to meet with my solicitor.”
“I don’t have a lot of time for delay. Very soon, there will be no hiding it.”
“I could probably have an answer for you in two weeks. This situation has been worsening for months. Another week or two won’t make a difference.”
“I feel so disgraced. I wouldn’t want to add to the gossip, and I wouldn’t want any shame to attach to you.”
“We’re the largest landowners in the neighborhood. Who would dare to spread stories?”
“With the way my luck’s been running, just about anyone.”
Suddenly, Sheldon appeared very sly, and he said, “If I decide to assist you, I should get Bramble Bay for my trouble. Wouldn’t you agree? You’d have to sign it over to me.”
Sarah seemed taken aback. “You’d expect to have it?”
“I’d be giving up an awful lot. Think of all you’re asking me to do.”
“It hadn’t occurred to me,”Sarah murmured. “I thought I’d keep it.”
He scoffed. “I always forget how young you are, how inexperienced in business matters. There’s a price for everything.”
“But Bramble Bay.”
“I’m afraid it would have to be part of any deal we struck. I couldn’t move forward in any other fashion.”
Mildred scowled. Sheldon was demanding Bramble Bay and Sarah might give it to him? What were they discussing?
Mildred had few options remaining, but if Sarah relinquished the estate to Sheldon, Mildred had no options at all. Sarah couldn’t surrender Bramble Bay. Mildred absolutely would not let her.
She braced and breezed into the room, pretending she’d just arrived, pretending she hadn’t eavesdropped.
“Sheldon,”she cheerfully said, “I heard you were home.”
“Hello, Mildred.” On seeing her, his annoyance was clear, but he quickly masked it, exuding his typical courtesy.
Mildred blustered through the awkward moment. “Sarah, I didn’t realize you were visiting.”
“Mildred.” Sarah tipped her head in acknowledgement, but offered no other greeting.
She and Sarah hadn’t spoken since the day of John Sinclair’s arrest, but Sarah had always been kindhearted, willing to forgive and forget. Mildred prayed this occasion was no different.
Mildred had to reaffirm her relationship with Sarah, had to
set Sarah to rights so she remembered her family, her responsibility to Mildred. Sheldon had to be put in his place. He wasn’t getting his greedy paws on Bramble Bay.
“You two certainly look glum,”Mildred said. “What’s happened?”
“Mildred”—Sheldon’s exasperation bubbled up—“this is a private chat. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“Leave? Don’t be silly. Sarah is my stepdaughter, and there have never been any secrets between us.” She flashed a warm smile at Sarah. “You don’t mind if I listen in, do you, Sarah?”
She didn’t know what reply she’d expected from Sarah, but it wasn’t the one she received.
“How much money was bequeathed to me in my father’s will?”
Mildred sucked in a sharp breath, then glanced away. Her cheeks reddened; she couldn’t stop a shameful blush from spreading.
“I’ve told you numerous times: You weren’t named as a beneficiary.”
“What was to be in my dowry? Was it property? What had Father arranged?”
“Sarah, he left you nothing, and I hate it that you persist in inquiring.”
Sheldon butted in. “Why are you asking, Sarah?”
“Before Mr. Sinclair returned to France, his accountant audited the estate ledgers.”
“Obviously, he found a discrepancy,”Sheldon said.
“Father provided me with a very fine inheritance and dowry. Mildred lied to me and—”
“I did not!”Mildred indignantly huffed.
Sarah ignored her and kept talking to Sheldon. “Hedley squandered it in London. Mildred wasted a good portion of it, too.”
“Mildred, is this true?” Sheldon’s disdain was aggravating to witness.
“No, it’s not true. Why would you accept the word of a notorious pirate over mine? Of course we didn’t take what wasn’t ours, because there wasn’t anything to take. There was no dowry for Sarah.”
“Despite what you claim,”Sheldon pompously intoned, “Mr. Sinclair is not a pirate. The court adjudged that he’s the natural-born son of the Earl of Trent and a very rich gentleman in his own right. I hardly suppose he’d fabricate an audit.”
“Sheldon,”Sarah said, “did you ever discuss the issue with my father?”
“No, and now I’m regretting it. If I’d known about this, I’d never have let them steal from you.”
“We stole nothing!”Mildred insisted, but she couldn’t hold their condemning stares.
“Did Mr. Sinclair leave the ledgers at the estate?”Sheldon asked Sarah.
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll get to the bottom of it.” He sat back, looking pretentious and irritating. “If Bramble Bay is to be mine, I might have a case to recover some of what they pilfered.”
“Bramble Bay might be yours?” Mildred feigned innocence, as if it was the first time she’d heard the news. “Why would it pass to you?”
“Sarah and I are considering marriage.”
Mildred shook her head to clear her ears. “You’re what?”
“We’re thinking of marrying. Mr. Sinclair has left England, and before he went, he gave the property to Sarah. If we proceed, it will come to me as her bride price.”
“But…but…”Mildred stammered.
She wanted to say, I thought you and I would wed! I thought I would be your wife! It can’t be Sarah! Anyone but Sarah!
Yet if she dared to comment, she’d embarrass herself.
He had never evinced by the slightest word or deed that he would propose, but she’d worked so intently to win him. Sarah couldn’t just waltz in and take him. Where was the fairness in that?
“Are you certain you should, Sheldon?”she blandly inquired. “Have you forgotten all the months I urged her to have you, and she constantly refused and delayed? Surely you should ponder a little more carefully.”
Sheldon focused his gaze on Sarah, and he studied her, appearing a tad aggrieved with her, but only a tad. After all, if they married, he’d get Bramble Bay.
Sarah didn’t shrink from his assessment, but was stoically silent, as if she deserved his rude appraisal and much more.
“Circumstances change,”Sheldon ultimately mused, “and I believe Sarah has come to her senses.”
“Well, I wouldn’t trust her,”Mildred churlishly snapped.
“You’re not the one marrying her. It’s between Sarah and myself. You shouldn’t vex yourself over it.”
“John Sinclair has a message for you, Mildred,”Sarah said.
“A message from that brigand? I don’t wish to hear it.”
Sarah continued as if Mildred hadn’t spoken. “He had Hedley kidnapped and conscripted into the merchant marines.”
Mildred gasped. “He what?”
Sarah retrieved a satchel from the floor and pulled out some papers. She handed them to Mildred.
“It’s all explained in these documents. He’s proclaimed himself the male head of your family.”
“The what? The man is insane!”
“He really is Florence’s son, Mildred. I’m sorry for you that you were so cruel to him. Perhaps you should rethink the level of your dislike.”
Mildred paled, growing so dizzy she thought she might faint. She staggered over to a chair and eased herself down.
“He can’t be Florence’s son,”she muttered. “He can’t be.”
“He is. He sent Hedley away, and he’s arranged for you to move to town.”
“I don’t want to move to town.”
“He bought you a house.”
“I don’t want his blasted house!”
“Then I can’t help you, and as Sheldon requested, you must leave us alone so we can finish our discussion. I’m a bit distraught, and there’s nothing else for you and I to say to one another.”
“I want to return to Bramble Bay!”Mildred fumed. “I want my home back! I want my son back! I want my life back!”
“None of that will happen, Mildred, and you really need to go away.”
Sheldon—always the calm port in any storm—stood and clasped Mildred by the elbow. He tugged her to her feet.
“Let’s get you up to your room.”
“I won’t be shuttled off like a recalcitrant toddler.“
“After Sarah departs, you and I can review the paperwork Mr. Sinclair prepared. I’ll bet we can have you packed and ready to travel to London tomorrow morning.” He grinned condescendingly. “I’m happy to let you use my carriage.”
He pushed her into the hall and closed the door. The key spun in the lock, and she lurched to the stairs and trudged up to her bedchamber. She flopped down on the bed, wailing in misery, a veritable cauldron of fury and woe.
She’d lost everything. Because of Florence. Because of her rebellious, indecent, immoral sister.
She’d had to wed Bernard because of Florence. She’d had to settle in the country in the middle of nowhere, had had to live quietly and futilely at the rural farm. Decade after decade, the excitement of town had sped by.
Now, because of Florence, she’d also lost her home and her son. And Sarah, too. Sarah was the only person who might have aided Mildred, who might have allowed Mildred to come home where she belonged.
When she arrived in the city, her first act would be to purchase a pistol. She’d keep it loaded and would carry it with her at all times. If she ever saw John Sinclair again, she’d shoot him right between the eyes.
* * * *
“Sarah, there you are. Where have you been?”
“I went to talk to Sheldon.”
Sarah was standing at the rear windows of the parlor, gazing down the sloping lawn to the ocean off in the distance. It was a cold autumn day, the water stormy with whitecaps.
Was John Sinclair on the other shore, in France, staring at the same roiling waves? Or had he sailed off to warmer climes, to sunny beaches and tropical foliage where he could drink and loaf and pretend he had no responsibilities? Was the impertinent ass enjoying himself? Did he ever wonder about her—as she wondered about him?
<
br /> Stop it! she scolded. Stop moping over him! Stop obsessing!
There was no point anymore, was there?
She glanced over her shoulder to where Caroline hovered in the doorway. She was no longer Caroline Patterson, but Mrs. Caroline Hook, having married her beloved Raven at the earliest opportunity.
While John Sinclair had flitted off to parts unknown, having no ties to bind him, Raven had proved himself to be absurdly devoted. He’d stayed with Caroline. He’d wed her, and they were ridiculously happy.
Sarah wanted to be glad for them, wanted to celebrate Caroline’s marvelous turn of fortune. But apparently, Sarah was a very petty person. She couldn’t bear to watch them cuddle and coo.
Fate was so cruel. Why had they ended up with everything while Sarah was to have nothing? She was sick at heart, feeling wretched and betrayed and more alone than she’d ever been.
“You went to see Sheldon?”Caroline said. “You poor dear. Are you ill? Are you deranged?”
“Come in, would you? And sit down? I need to tell you some distressing news.”
“My goodness. This sounds serious.”
“It is.”
Caroline plopped down on a sofa, and as Sarah seated herself in the chair across, Caroline scowled.
“Sarah, you look awful. I was joking about your being ill. Are you?”
“I’m not ill.”
“Then what’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost.”
There wasn’t any reason to dither or delay. Wasn’t it best to get it out in the open? To be blunt and direct?
“Sheldon and I have decided to marry.”
Caroline gasped with astonishment. “You what? No, no, no, you can’t mean it.”
“He has to resolve some issues with his solicitor, but once all the contracts are drawn up, we’ll wed.”
“Oh, Sarah, I can’t let you. This is madness. What are you thinking?”
“I’m increasing,”she brusquely stated.
“You’re…having a baby?”
“Yes.”
“And Sheldon agreed to marry you?”
“Yes.”
“The child couldn’t possibly be his. Who is the father?” Caroline stopped herself. “Well, obviously, it’s Jean Pierre.”
Sarah merely shrugged.