Her behavior in the conservatory had been wanton and shocking. She’d nearly begged him to kiss her. He’d known it. Known it enough to tell her why he couldn’t. And damn her, she’d wanted him to do it even after he’d explained why he couldn’t. The man was completely honorable through and through. He wouldn’t kiss another man’s betrothed. She shouldn’t have wanted him to. That’s why she’d left. Fled, actually. Like a coward. It was as if she couldn’t stand another moment in his presence being tempted by him. She’d asked to have her dinner served in her room. And had hidden from him here. She needed time and space. She would face him tomorrow. His friends would arrive then. Hopefully they would have a plan to help her and she could get back to London, where she belonged.
There was a soft knock at the door and Sarah’s heart leaped into her throat. The chances of it being Christian were slim, of course, but she couldn’t help admitting to herself that she wished it was him. “Come in,” she called weakly, her throat dry.
The door opened and Mrs. Hamilton stepped inside. The housekeeper quickly closed the door behind her.
Sarah let out her pent-up breath. Was it a sigh of relief or disappointment? “Good evening, Mrs. Hamilton,” she said, smiling at the woman through the looking glass.
“Good evening, my lady,” Mrs. Hamilton said, moving toward her. “I came ta help ye prepare for bed.”
“Thank you very much.”
Mrs. Hamilton crossed the plush rug to stand behind Sarah. First, she helped Sarah pull the last of the pins from her hair, and then the housekeeper picked up a silver-handled brush from the dressing table and began to stroke it through her hair.
“What do you think of Berkeley Hall, my lady?” Mrs. Hamilton asked, beaming at her in the looking glass.
“It’s absolutely gorgeous,” Sarah replied. “Superbly decorated with fine furnishings and perfectly kept.” Lord Berkeley was an interesting man. Handsome, kind, and friendly. Living up here all alone and wanting nothing more than someone to share it with. Sarah’s heart ached for him.
“It is gorgeous, isn’t it,” the housekeeper said with obvious pride. “Been in the family for nine generations. My own family has been in service to the Berkeleys for four.”
“That’s quite impressive,” Sarah said.
“You have beautiful hair, my lady, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Mrs. Hamilton murmured as she continued to brush Sarah’s hair.
“I’m so sorry to be a bother to you,” Sarah said. “My own maid is … was … indisposed.”
“Don’t ye worry about that.”
“Also … I find I’m quite without my normal wardrobe.” Sarah blushed.
“No matter about that either. If His Lordship says ye are to be here quietlike, I won’t tell a soul or repeat anything I know about any of this. Ye can be certain about that.”
“Thank you.” Sarah turned and laid her hand on the housekeeper’s. “I’ve only known you less than a day, Mrs. Hamilton, but somehow I feel I can trust you.”
Mrs. Hamilton smiled at that. “I’ve known the master since he was a babe and there’s no finer man. If he tells me ye’re in trouble and need his help, I don’t ask questions. I merely want ta help.”
“That’s kind of you.” Sarah turned back around and smiled at the older woman’s reflection in the looking glass. “What was Master Christian like as a child? I simply cannot picture him as a small boy.”
A look of joy flourished across the housekeeper’s face. “Oh, he was the cutest little towheaded thing ye’d ever like ta see. The nicest boy. Always helping others. A bit shy, mind ye, but so kind and thoughtful. Never acting lordly or arrogant like some of these baby blue bloods tend ta. No offense, my lady.”
“None taken,” Sarah replied with a laugh. “And that sounds like him.”
“He was so sweet and happy. He and his cousin Harriet were inseparable. She lives in Bath now. A married lady is Harriet.”
“He told me about her. He said she nearly burned down her doll house and he rebuilt it.”
“Yes, he did. He spent nearly his entire summer home from Eton rebuilding that thing. Harriet loved him so for it.”
Sarah glanced down at the top of the dressing table. “He has no brothers or sisters?”
“No.”
Sarah glanced up again and met the housekeeper’s gaze in the mirror. “What were his parents like?” Sarah hesitated only a moment before asking, “Is his mother still living?”
An unmistakably sad look passed over Mrs. Hamilton’s face. “No. Neither of them is living. The old lord died nearly ten years ago now. A bad heart. And Her Ladyship, why, she died when Master Christian was just a young boy. Not yet five years old.”
Sarah gasped. “Oh, no. How awful.”
“’Twas a sad, sad time here, ta be sure, my lady.”
Sarah cleared her throat. “What happened to her?”
Mrs. Hamilton shook her head again. “Fever. It was dreadful that year. His Lordship came down with it, too. He recovered. We took young Master Christian away so he wouldn’t get sick. He never had a chance ta say good-bye ta his mama. Even when she was in the throes of it and we knew it wasn’t likely that she’d live, she refused ta have him brought back so she could say good-bye ta him. She didn’t want to take the chance that he might catch it. She probably saved his life. But the poor boy didn’t understand where she’d gone. Ran all over the house looking for her. Calling for her.”
Tears stung Sarah’s eyes. She swallowed hard. “That’s dreadful.… And his father? Did you know him?”
“I did.” Mrs. Hamilton shook her head. “And my mama told me never ta speak ill o’ the dead. So that’s all I have ta say about that man. Never gave Master Christian a bit of rest, did he. Demanded so much from him. Too much, if ye ask me. But that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
“I understand.” Sarah wasn’t about to break Christian’s confidence and tell the woman that she’d already heard a bit about how awful his father had been, but Mrs. Hamilton’s words confirmed her impression of the former viscount.
Mrs. Hamilton heaved a sigh. “The master’s grown up with such a good sense of humor and always quick ta laugh. But don’t let him fool you. He’s known pain, he has. I just wish he could find a young lady and settle down. That’s why when I saw ye last night … well, ye know I thought … hoped, ye was the new lady of the house.”
Sarah glanced away. “The fact is that I’m … engaged to be married to someone else.”
Mrs. Hamilton sighed once more. “A pity, my lady. A pity. But I must say that your young man, whoever he is, is quite fortunate.”
Sarah nodded slowly. “Thank you. I’m certain Lord Berkeley will find someone who suits him just fine.”
“If he goes ta town next Season. He said he was thinking of staying here next year.” Another sad head shake from Mrs. Hamilton.
Sarah brightened and smiled at the woman. “He told me he intends to come to London. I’ve given him some advice.”
“I’m glad ta hear it, my lady. I’ve been afraid he may be near ta giving up.”
Mrs. Hamilton had finished brushing Sarah’s hair, and Sarah stood and made her way over toward the bed. “Don’t worry. I have every hope for him next Season. And I shall be there to help him.”
Mrs. Hamilton sighed again loud and long. “I hope it’ll work, my lady. I can’t wait till I hear the pitter patter of little feet in this house again.”
“I shall do my best to help him,” Sarah said, swallowing the unexpected lump in her throat. “Because I am his friend.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A grand traveling coach arrived midway through the next morning. Two gorgeous ladies—one with black hair, one with blond—alighted from the conveyance. The black-haired lady wore a gown of bright emerald silk. Sarah could see the hem peeping out from under her coat. The blond lady had on a lavender gown with a beautiful silver coat over it. Sarah watched, fascinated, through an upstairs window as Lord Berkeley marched out across the
icy gravel to meet them in the biting wind.
The ladies and their trunks were deposited in their rooms in short order, and the two of them made their way back down to the drawing room to meet Christian. Sarah stole quietly behind them. She listened at the door to the drawing room in front of the house while Lord Berkeley spoke with them.
“Dear God, Berkeley, when is the last time you’ve shaved?”
Sarah winced. Clearly Lucy (if that was indeed who was speaking) wasn’t one for subtlety.
“I’ve been a bit preoccupied of late,” Christian replied. “And my valet went to visit friends in York. He wasn’t expecting me.”
“Yes, well, as to your ‘preoccupation,’ all you said in your letter was that you needed my help restoring the name of a young woman who was under your care,” the same female voice said.
“That’s right, Lucy,” came Christian’s voice.
“That’s precious little to go by,” Lucy replied. “Couldn’t you have expounded a bit? Besides, Cass and I nearly died of anticipation. Who is it?”
“I’ve sent up a note,” Christian said. “Mrs. Hamilton should be bringing her down any moment.”
Sarah jumped. It was clearly time to stop listening at doors and make her appearance. Just then, Mrs. Hamilton arrived at her side. “Go on, then,” the housekeeper prompted. “Mustn’t keep Her Grace waiting.”
Sarah gulped, and her eyes widened. “Her Grace?”
“Yes, Lucy Hunt, the Duchess of Claringdon.”
“You mean to tell me the Duchess of Claringdon is in that room?” The Duchess of Claringdon was the epitome of style and grace as far as the ton was concerned. Young, beautiful, dashing. With a war-hero husband and a set of the most fashionable friends, she was a darling of the Quality. She was Christian’s friend Lucy. Sarah could wring his neck for not mentioning it before.
“Yes, along with the Countess of Swifdon.”
Ah, yes. Cassandra was the countess’s first name. And rumor had it that she and the duchess were thick as thieves. Now it all made perfect sense.
Very well. No use hovering outside the door like a timid little mouse. If these great ladies had traveled all this way to help her, Mrs. Hamilton was right. She mustn’t keep them waiting. Sarah quietly pushed open the door and stepped into the room. “Your Grace,” she said in a quiet voice, looking at the duchess. “My lady,” she said, turning her attention to the countess.
Both beautiful ladies in their grand skirts turned immediately and gave her a once-over. She’d never felt more out of place in her maid’s clothing. She could tell right away they recognized her, too.
The countess gasped.
The duchess’s eyebrows shot up. “Berkeley, you mean to tell me you’ve had Lady Sarah Highgate, the subject of some of the most intense gossip London’s ever heard, with you this entire time?”
Sarah bit her lip. Oh, no. The gossip was already bad. This plan was hopeless.
“No,” Christian replied. “Not this entire time.”
The duchess nodded to Sarah. “We’ve met, but only briefly. Good to see you again, Lady Sarah. I simply cannot wait to hear this story.”
“Yes,” the countess said as Oswald brought in tea. The countess crossed to Sarah and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You must be scared half out of your wits, you poor dear. Please tell us everything.”
“Thank you, Lady Cassandra. It’s good to see you both,” Sarah replied tentatively. “I regret that we are meeting again under such inauspicious circumstances.”
“Never mind that, dear. Come. Sit down. We’re here to help.” Lucy patted a spot next to her on the sofa. Sarah quickly made her way over to it and sat. A bit of the tension left her shoulders. She felt strangely comforted knowing these two ladies had left London and traveled here expressly to help her. Well, actually they were here to help Christian, but by association, her, and she was grateful to have their help at present. She settled into her seat.
The duchess was a gorgeous woman, with black curly hair and two different-colored eyes (one blue, the other green). The countess was perhaps even more beautiful, with soft honey-colored hair and bright cornflower-blue eyes. They both looked at her with great kindness and interest as she began to speak.
A half hour later, after the story had been thoroughly told and every question answered, Christian said, “So, as you can see, poor Lady Sarah here is in quite a bind. We need your scheming, Lucy, to get her out of it.”
“I don’t care for the word scheming,” the duchess replied, but she had a smile on her face as she said it.
“It sounds like something Jane would say,” the countess said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” the duchess replied.
“Who is Jane, if I may ask, Your Grace?” Sarah ventured.
The duchess blinked at her. “Well, first of all, if we’re to be friends, you must call me Lucy, not Your Grace. And of course we’re to be friends, because any friend of Berkeley’s is a friend of mine.”
“The same goes for me,” the countess added. “Please call me Cass.”
Sarah nodded hesitantly. “And you must call me Sarah.”
“A pleasure,” both ladies said simultaneously, smiling at her widely.
Lucy and Cass were certainly friendly. Sarah immediately realized why Lord Berkeley was such good friends with them. They were easy to like.
“To answer your question,” Lucy continued, “Jane is our very dear friend who is usually in league with us in all our so-called schemes, though she’s a bit less enthusiastic about them than we are. You would know her as Mrs. Garrett Upton. Mr. Upton, of course, is my first cousin and the heir to my father’s earldom.”
“Ah, yes, I remember the name now,” Sarah said.
“Jane would be here,” Lucy said, “but she’s settled in Bath for the winter to read.”
“Who goes to Bath to read?” Christian asked.
“Precisely my point,” Lucy continued. “But she says she gets fewer callers there in the winter than in London and she prefers it that way.”
Christian laughed.
Sarah cleared her throat. “Lord Berkeley says you’re quite good at coming up with … plots.”
“She’s excellent at it,” Cass said, patting Lucy on the hand, a proud look on her face.
“I hope so, because since Mrs. Goatsocks is incapacitated, I have no chaperone. You mentioned gossip. Tell me the truth. I fear I am quite ruined. It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Nonsense,” Lucy replied. “Nothing is impossible. Even the most egregious gossip can be made to seem like stuff and nonsense with the correct plan in place.” She stood up and paced over to the fireplace, a twinkle in her eye. “You’re not ruined at all.”
Sarah expelled her breath, a rush of relief flooding through her. “I’m not.”
“No.” Lucy was clearly warming to her subject. “Of course not. Because you’ve had another chaperone this entire time.”
Sarah furrowed her brow. “I have?”
“She has?” Cass echoed.
“She has?” Lord Berkeley asked.
“Yes,” Lucy replied. “Until recently, this chaperone has been retired to the north. She’s exceedingly proper and would never allow a charge of hers to do anything untoward. She also comes with excellent references. She’s come out of retirement, and you’re her first charge since.”
“Her first…?” Sarah pursed her lips, completely baffled.
Lucy flourished a hand in the air and grinned at the three of them. “Her name is Mrs. Bunbury.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Brilliant!” Christian declared.
Both he and Cass knew that Mrs. Bunbury was fictitious. But she was, however, a fictitious chaperone, so the fact that she was “coming out of retirement” with Sarah as her charge made a certain amount of sense.
“Oh, Lucy, that is brilliant,” Cass said, clapping her hands. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
“I don’t understand,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “Who is Mrs.
Bunbury?”
Christian cleared his throat. “Mrs. Bunbury is a nonexistent chaperone whom Lucy invented and hired for Jane Upton.”
Sarah looked at all of them as if they’d lost their minds. “Now I really don’t understand.”
Cass smoothed her hands down her silken lavender skirts. “When Jane came to my wedding in the country, she wanted to escape her mother, so she and Lucy invented a chaperone and named her Mrs. Bunbury. The woman never managed to be in the same room with Jane’s mother, of course. She’d always just left moments before.”
Sarah bit her lip. “I don’t mean to be rude, but that sounds absolutely preposterous.”
“Oh, but of course it’s preposterous,” Lucy said with a smile. “As so many of my plots are.”
Christian could tell that Sarah was quickly losing faith in their saviors. “Perhaps you could explain what you have in mind in more detail, Lucy.”
“With pleasure.” Lucy paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, the twinkle remaining in her eye. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking. Jane has been in Bath this entire time and rarely attends social functions because she’d rather be reading. She has also been known to employ Mrs. Bunbury. I shall return to London immediately and start the rumor that Sarah has been in Bath with Jane since she left London. You haven’t told anyone anything that might contradict such a story, have you, Sarah?”
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