The Legendary Lord

by Valerie Bowman

  Sarah shook her head. “No. The only thing that I wrote in the letter I left for my mother is that I had to leave.”

  “That’s perfect, then,” Lucy said with a nod that caused one of her black curls to pop loose from her coiffure and bounce along her forehead. “I will say that I’ve just come from Bath, where I visited Jane and discovered you, Sarah.”

  She nodded toward Christian. “You and Sarah will travel to Bath via the western route and you shall deliver Sarah to Janie. I will inform Lady Sarah’s parents of the story and no one will be the wiser.”

  “I’m not certain about that,” Sarah said, worrying her hands together in her lap.

  “Why not?”

  “My mother will ask a lot of questions. She’ll want to know all the details.”

  Lucy patted her coiffure. “Don’t worry about that. Leave it to me. I will visit your mother, retrieve your clothing, and explain everything. Believe me, if your mother wishes to avoid a scandal, she’ll help me.”

  “Where will everyone think Mrs. Goatsocks has been?” Sarah asked.

  “Oh, yes, you mentioned her, didn’t you?” she said to Christian. “Poor woman, I do hope her ankle is healing properly.”

  “Focus, Lucy,” Cass nudged.

  “Yes, of course,” Lucy said. “Mrs. Goatsocks has been in Scotland visiting her sister.”

  “But she doesn’t have a—,” Sarah began.

  “Believe me when I tell you that no one will know or care about such a detail. Why, I made up an entire branch of Mrs. Bunbury’s family tree and no one asked a single question about it.”

  Sarah bit her lip. “Are you quite certain—”

  Christian gave Sarah a reassuring nod. “Lucy will handle it. You must trust her.”

  Sarah nodded back. “Very well.”

  “In the meantime, I’ve brought you some clothing of mine that you may wear for your journey to Bath,” Lucy said. “Berkeley told me you were dressed as a maid. My clothing may not fit exactly but close enough.”

  Sarah nodded again. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Christian watched Sarah closely. He could tell she was worried. Was she beginning to panic? He knew the feeling too well. He must help reassure her. She had to see that this was the only choice.

  Lucy continued her explanation. “After I speak to Lady Highfield, Sarah will arrive in London with Jane days later. We’ll all simply pretend it’s been nothing more than one great big silly misunderstanding.”

  “A misunderstanding?” Sarah scrunched up her nose. “You truly believe that will work?”

  “Oh, my dear,” Cass said, patting Sarah’s hand again. “You obviously don’t know our Lucy.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Minutes later, Sarah retired to her bedchamber to rest. Christian stood and watched her leave the room, hoping she wasn’t too discomfited by the discussion with Lucy and Cass. No doubt the poor young woman needed to lie down and think about all the outlandish things she’d just heard.

  As soon as Sarah had gone, he turned to his friends. “You two can be a lot to take in at first. I wanted her to know I trust you.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Berkeley,” Lucy replied. “You know my plots always work out in the end.”

  He resumed his seat. “Yes. That’s why I summoned you. Thank you for coming, by the by.”

  “Anything for you, my friend,” Lucy said from her perch on the sofa, a genuine smile on her face.

  “Now, you must tell us, how in heaven’s name did you get wrapped up in this?” Cass asked, settling her lavender skirts around her.

  “Sarah told you. She mistook my hunting lodge for her father’s and then—”

  “We heard all of that,” Lucy replied. “But certainly you weren’t obligated to escort her back to England and summon your friends to help. How did that happen?”

  Christian scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I felt sorry for her.”

  Lucy arched a brow. “Sorry for her? Really? I couldn’t help but notice she’s quite beautiful, too. Did that have anything to do with it?”

  Christian crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a drink.

  “And now you’re drinking?” Lucy said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you have more than a spot of whiskey or a glass of champagne the entire time I’ve known you.”

  He splashed brandy into a glass. “Care for some?” he offered his guests.

  They both declined.

  Christian carried the glass back to his chair and sipped the drink slowly.

  Lucy smoothed one dark eyebrow with a fingertip. “You didn’t answer me, Viscount. Has Lady Sarah’s beauty anything to do with your sudden interest in her?”

  Christian leaned his head against the back of the chair. “You know me, Your Grace. Always the loyal friend to any damsel in distress.”

  “Yes, what you did for Alexandra and Owen was exceedingly kind of you,” Cass said, referring to her brother. “They’re engaged now. Thank you.”

  Christian raised his glass. “Glad to hear it. Always a pleasure to help a beautiful lady find the man of her dreams. But at least in this case, Sarah’s actually been helping me, too.”

  Lucy’s jaw dropped open. “Pardon?”

  “Yes, while we were snowed in together, she gave me some advice on how to go about finding a wife,” Christian said.

  “Snowed in together? I’ll leave that be for now.” Lucy put her fists to her hips. “But Berkeley, if you wanted help finding a wife, why didn’t you ask me?”

  Christian laughed and took another sip of brandy. “Perhaps because you and I have never been snowed in together. Funny what you’ll admit when you have days alone with someone. By the by, I am counting on your discretion with that information, the snowed-in bit. No one knows about it except Fergus, Mrs. Goatsocks, and a dog.”

  “Absolutely,” Cass offered loyally.

  Lucy sniffed. “I still don’t see why you never asked me.”

  Christian took another sip of brandy. “Apparently, Sarah’s the belle of the last Season. She’s engaged to the most eligible bachelor. I thought she might know a thing or two about the current crop of ladies on the marriage mart.”

  “It’s true, Lucy,” Cass said. “She is younger than we are. I daresay she knows quite a bit.”

  “Besides,” Christian continued, “Sarah says the way to get the unmarried ladies to notice you is to capture the eye of the most popular unmarried lady. Matrons won’t do.”

  Lucy laughed outright at that. “Well, I can’t say she’s wrong about that. And she was the belle of the Season. It was such a scandal when she left. Of course if I’d known she would end up with you, I would have kept quiet, but I fear I participated in the gossip and conjecture.”

  Cass sighed. “It’s a pity that lovely Lady Sarah must marry Lord Branford if she doesn’t love him. Perhaps her parents will listen to reason after she informs them why she left so precipitously.”

  “First things first,” Lucy replied. “We must get Sarah back to London and convince everyone that absolutely nothing scandalous happened.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Cass agreed.

  Christian twirled the brown liquid in his glass. “There’s only one problem with the current plan.”

  “Which is?” Lucy asked.

  “I promised Mrs. Goatsocks that the moment you two arrived, you would be officially chaperoning Lady Sarah.”

  “Oh!” Cass exclaimed.

  “I doubt Mrs. Goatsocks—I like that name, by the by—would mind if she remains in your company a bit longer, Berkeley. You did promise the lady you would do everything you could to restore her to her family in London while causing the least amount of gossip, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  “If she were here now, Mrs. Goatsocks would see the logic in this plan and agree with me.”

  “Oh, Lucy, you’re always so confident,” Cass said.

  “We don’t have time to write to the woman,” Lucy continued. “But
believe me when I tell you, she’d agree with me. Besides, Sarah is officially in Mrs. Bunbury’s care in Bath at the moment, at any rate. She’s not unchaperoned at all.”

  Cass pulled her fur shrug closer around her shoulders. “Oh, Lucy, I do so adore how you think.”

  Christian shook his head. “I doubt even the Prince Regent could disagree with you once you set about making your point, Lucy.”

  Cass bit her lip. “But a misunderstanding? You really think telling everyone that will work, Lucy?”

  Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re talking to the same person who has hidden behind bushes and thrown my voice so that my future husband would think I was speaking for you, Cass.”

  “You’re also talking to the same person who invented a fictitious person and then proceeded to conduct a house party in her honor and convinced half the ton to attend,” Christian added.

  “How could I forget?” Cass replied. “Since I was the one pretending to be that fictitious person.”

  “I, for one, trust you completely, of course,” Christian said to Lucy.

  Lucy reached over and patted him on the arm. “That’s why I like you so well, Berkeley. You’ve always had faith in me.”

  Christian lifted his glass again. “Your schemes tend to work. There’s evidence. Of course if this one works, Sarah will still be back in London, engaged to Lord Branford.”

  Lucy smiled and her different-colored eyes sparkled. “Why don’t I leave that little problem for you to solve, Berkeley?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  There was little time to waste. The very next morning, two traveling chaises set out in different directions from Berkeley Hall. The one containing Sarah (who was filled with nerves) and Lord Berkeley (who had still not shaved) traveled via the western road to Bath. The other coach containing a confident Lucy and a hopeful Cass traveled via the southern road to London. Each had a distinct mission to accomplish.

  Lucy had written a letter to Jane that she’d handed to Sarah just before they departed. “See that Jane receives this as soon as you arrive. It explains everything.”

  Sarah was sorely tempted to read it. She didn’t, of course, but kept it sealed in her pocket. Lucy’s clothing was a bit tight and short on her, but it would do better than a maid’s dress. She didn’t want to arrive on Jane Upton’s doorstep in Bath looking squalid, letter or no. Sarah had given the maid’s washed and pressed clothing to Lucy to return to the poor maid at her mother’s house in London. Lucy had told Sarah not to worry about a thing, and Cass had given her a warm, friendly, encouraging hug.

  Mrs. Hamilton had provided each set of passengers with a basket of food, additional blankets, and hot bricks with which to warm their feet until their first stop. They would get new bricks at each inn along the way. The rented hack from Scotland had been well paid and sent back north, so this time Sarah and Lord Berkeley traveled in one of the viscount’s coaches.

  “Take care, my lady,” Mrs. Hamilton whispered to Sarah as she alighted into the well-sprung vehicle.

  An odd lump formed in Sarah’s throat. It made her inexpressibly sad to think she would never see Mrs. Hamilton again. “Thank you for everything,” she replied, squeezing the woman’s hand.

  The ride was bumpy, cold, and long. They stopped only to change horses, to eat, and to use the convenience. Lucy had stressed that the faster they could get Sarah back to London by way of Bath, the sooner the gossip about her would die down. Lucy and Cass wouldn’t be stopping at night either.

  Christian sat across from Sarah, his beard growing longer each day. They slept fitfully off and on. She curled up on the forward-facing seat, tucked her legs beneath her, and attempted to rest despite the near constant jolting of the carriage. Christian must have been even more uncomfortable with his long legs squeezed into such a small space. He leaned against the wall of the coach and tried to doze that way, but she doubted he was able to, as evidenced by the increasingly dark shadows under his eyes.

  The lump that had formed in Sarah’s throat when she’d been saying good-bye to Mrs. Hamilton remained throughout the journey. It was so kind of Lord Berkeley and his two friends, so very kind of them to help her, a woman they knew little of and had no reason to help. During the day while they were awake, Christian attempted to make her laugh and keep her entertained with stories about his trip to the Continent after he’d left university and the foibles of his friends in London.

  “And then there was the time Garrett Upton and I were nearly expelled from Eton,” Christian said after they’d returned to the coach from eating a meal at an inn.

  “I cannot possibly believe that,” she replied with a laugh. “You? Nearly expelled?”

  “I haven’t always done the right thing,” Christian replied.

  Sarah had to look away. She was thinking of how he’d done the right thing in the conservatory when he hadn’t kissed her. He had to be thinking about it, too.

  She turned back to face him. There was something she had to say to him. “I can never repay you, you know—” Her voice caught at the end of the sentence.

  His crystal-blue eyes held her gaze. “You don’t have to, you know.”

  Tears stung her eyes. Bother. “I’ve never known anyone so kind.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Didn’t I mention my reputation as someone who helps damsels in distress?”

  “I’m sorry, Lord Berkeley,” she whispered, fighting away the tears.

  The hint of a smile touched his firm lips. “I thought we were long past the point where you call me Lord Berkeley.”

  “Yes. Of course.” She needed to change the subject, to banish the unwanted tears. She alighted on the first thing that came to mind. “Speaking of titles, however, I still don’t understand why you didn’t see fit to tell me your friends Lucy and Cass were a duchess and a countess.”

  “You didn’t know I was a viscount. I thought you might wonder why I was keeping such company.”

  “I would have wondered, but that’s not the point. You should have told me you were a viscount as well.”

  “I didn’t tell you because when I first met you, you were trying to convince me of how a gentleman would behave in London.”

  She winced. “I was quite awful, wasn’t I?”

  “I don’t know. I have to admit I was a bit impressed with your fearlessness. I’ve never had a lady attempt to brandish a sword at me before.”

  She laughed. “I wasn’t fearless at all. I was scared witless. I had no idea you were Master Christian. I actually told myself you were another person who’d happened on the house by accident.”

  “Thought you might have to fight me for your claim, eh?”

  She laughed again. “I thought perhaps you were a bandit.”

  “I’m impressed with your bravery. You were ready to fiercely protect yourself. Another young lady might have been hiding or weeping.”

  “I’m not much of a weeper, I suppose.”

  He grinned at that. “Meanwhile, I had no idea who was sleeping in my bed.”

  “I’m sorry if I frightened you, too.”

  “Nothing to worry about. I was more annoyed, actually, that someone had made themselves at home in my house.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a viscount after that?”

  He shrugged. “It didn’t seem relevant, really.”

  “Mrs. Hamilton is lovely,” she added, wanting to change the subject again. Why had she even brought up his title yet again?

  “Yes, sometimes she treats me as if she were my mother.”

  The lump was back in Sarah’s throat. “She said your mother died when you were a child. I’m very sorry.”

  He shook his head and turned to look out the window. He narrowed his eyes on something in the distance. “That was a long time ago.”

  “But no doubt it’s still painful for you to—”

  “You should get some rest. We’ll be in Bath by nightfall.”

  Sarah nodded, still struggling to swallow the lump
. He obviously didn’t want to discuss his mother. She pulled the blankets to her neck and settled against the side of the coach. She closed her eyes, hoping she hadn’t dredged up painful memories for this man who’d been nothing but kind to her.

  Her fitful dreams were filled with Berkeley family portraits and the image of Christian’s mother’s face staring back at her from the locket.

  * * *

  They did indeed make it to Bath by nightfall. The sun had just set as they made their way up the cobbled streets of the hill town. Sarah was thankful that they would be making their appearance under cover of night. There would be fewer people to potentially see her. They’d already decided to drive up to the back of Mr. Upton’s house. Sarah had given the coachman the letter from Lucy and asked him to deliver it to Jane Upton herself. As soon as the coach pulled to a stop behind the house, the man leaped down, scurried up to the back door, and rapped on it three times.

  The door soon opened, and after some discussion between the coachman and whichever servant had opened the door, there was a bit of waiting while the letter was obviously delivered to Jane.

  Sarah sat up straight in the coach, her knees bouncing, nerves flooding through every bit of her body. Would Jane Upton accept her or think her friend Lucy had sent a hoyden to her door? Would Lucy’s outrageous plan even have a chance of working?

  “You’ve nothing to worry about,” Christian said. “Jane will take excellent care of you. She’s quite nice.”

  “I’ve no doubt,” Sarah replied, knees still bouncing. “But I cannot help my nerves.”

  “I understand,” Christian replied. He reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, settling her bouncing knees. Sarah didn’t look at him. Instead, she concentrated on regulating her breathing, but she allowed him to hold her hand. It felt so warm. So warm and strong and nice. So reassuring. No one had ever made her feel so safe before. Certainly not her parents. All they’d ever done was add to her anxiety.