by Lily Maxton
“Not as such.” Sarah smiled suddenly, as if recalling a fond memory, and Win’s stomach tightened. “They really are perfect for each other, as different as they might seem.”
Win was annoyed on Sarah’s behalf. “But he was courting you.”
“We had made no promises to each other, and I think we could both tell there was no passion between us.”
“Did you kiss?” she asked bluntly.
Sarah faltered, but only for an instant, before her hands were folded serenely on her lap. She was entirely too composed, Win thought, wishing, for some reason, that she could disconcert her more. “No, but I felt no desire to, either. I suppose it could have been an awful situation, with me ending up heartbroken, but that wasn’t at all what happened, and I care about them both too much to hold grudges over it.”
“I could hold a grudge for you,” Win suggested.
Sarah laughed, and it was like music to her ears. “We’ve been invited to a telescope viewing at one of the member’s houses in a few nights, if the weather cooperates. Both Eleanor and James should be there.”
“I don’t know if I should.” Win looked down at her clothes.
“It will be a very informal gathering, and there certainly won’t be any dancing. No one will think anything of you being there while you’re in mourning.”
She was tempted. She would like to meet the members of the society. She would like to spend more time with Sarah, like this. Maybe they weren’t exactly what they once were, but in this quiet moment, it felt like perhaps they could be that again. And if there was a constant thrum of desire deep in her chest, it never had to come to light.
Sarah…well, if she’d ever felt the same desire for Win, she must have long since moved past it, based on the way she’d looked at Eleanor.
Still, Win wanted to spend time with her. There was a feeling, a heat, a sweetness, that she’d been missing all this time. It was only now that she realized that feeling was Sarah; it was how she felt when she was with Sarah, like she’d swallowed sun-warmed honey. And she wasn’t sure she could let go of it, now that she’d discovered it again.
She wanted to try to salvage whatever was left of their friendship. But she also didn’t want to appear too eager. “No dancing?” she said lightly. “You mean there won’t be debauchery and midnight revels—that’s what I always hope for when I go out for an evening.”
“The worst debauchery we might experience is someone getting into an argument over some obscure scientific concept.”
“Fisticuffs?”
Sarah shook her head and leaned forward, conspiratorially. “If you’re very, very lucky, there might be some raised voices. Maybe even a shout or two.”
“A shout? Dear God.”
Sarah leaned back, smiling slightly, and Win’s heart positively soared. “So you’ll come?”
“If you’d like me there,” Win said. Because as much as she wanted to be with Sarah, as much as she wanted to feel the warmth of honey all through her chest, she didn’t want to do so against the other woman’s wishes.
“I would.” Sarah said, “On one condition.”
“What would that be?”
“Don’t call me little Sarah ever again.”
The vehemence in her tone startled Win. “Do you dislike it that much?”
“Yes, I dislike it. I’m not a child.”
“No,” Win agreed. Sarah was a woman, beautiful and poised and entirely too captivating. “You aren’t.”
Chapter 6
Six years earlier
Win had been sneaking into Sarah’s family’s townhouse for long enough now that it was second nature. Sarah always made sure the latch on the back window was open, and Win simply climbed over the wall that separated the two yards, and then shimmied in through the window.
She found Sarah sprawled across her bed in a chemise and silk dressing robe, reading on her stomach by candlelight.
Sarah looked up, face half in light and half in shadow, completely unsurprised to find Win in her room. This had become a ritual that took place at least once a week. It tended to happen on days when Win’s mother and father were particularly critical of her. Lately, it had gotten even worse.
Ever since Win’s father had sold two of his horses, they’d been relentless in their criticism. Any hope of an expensive London Season was eclipsed by financial need. They’d started talking about potential matches for Win, ones that could be made right there in Edinburgh, though she had only just turned sixteen.
Marrying at sixteen wasn’t unheard of, of course, but it was still young.
Her parents didn’t seem to particularly care. The sooner she made a decent match, the sooner they could stop paying for her fine clothes and tutors.
It would have been better, they’d said, if they’d had a son. A son could marry a rich woman, and then nearly all of his wife’s money would be his.
A daughter was not entirely useless, though. Provided she married a man of honor and some wealth, he would probably be generous with his in-laws, should the need arise. This was something her parents thought of often… They were by no means poor, but they weren’t extravagantly wealthy, either, and they were in the constant habit of wanting more than they possessed.
“You’re with Lady Sarah all the time,” her mother had pointed out. “You never speak to her brothers?”
She did, but they all looked at her as their sister’s friend, not a woman to court.
“I heard a cousin of Lord Lark is coming to town,” her father said. “It might be achievable.”
He sent her a look then, as if it say, surely you can attract the cousin of a lord. If you can’t do that, then what are you good for?
Her mother had cast a narrow-eyed look at her hair, one she was quite familiar with. “We could try lightening it again.”
No. No, she did not want to lighten her hair. The last time they’d tried, it hadn’t worked, and she’d spent the next several days with a burning scalp, smelling like sour lemons and chemicals. But her mother never took no for an answer.
Sarah, after Win had explained what the smell was, had tugged gently on a loose tendril of Win’s hair, and said, “Your hair is lovely. I’m glad it didn’t work.”
She’d only just stopped herself from crying.
She stepped closer to her friend now, and Sarah patted the bed beside her. She seemed to sense that Win didn’t want to talk about what was troubling her on nights like this, and Win was grateful for it.
It was always the same thing anyway. Always the feeling that she couldn’t live up to whatever impossible expectations her parents had set for her.
She settled in beside Sarah, on her stomach, their shoulders brushing as she propped herself up on her arms, with the feeling that she’d come in from a storm to find warmth and light and shelter.
Sarah pointed to an illustration. A circular stone building with rows and rows of arched openings. One great wall had crumpled from age. “It’s the colosseum.”
“Rome?” Win asked.
“Mmm.” She flipped to another page, pointed out another stone structure, this one in better condition, with an intimidating portico held up by pillars that looked as big as ancient oaks. “And the pantheon. And look at this.” A few pages later was a building of fresh white stone, sculpted Roman figures, and flailing horses, overlooking a pool. “It’s the Trevi Fountain. It’s more modern than everything else, but I’d still like to see it.”
Win nudged Sarah with her shoulder. “Are you planning a trip?” she joked.
“I wish I could,” Sarah said wistfully. “Someday, perhaps.”
“Will you take me with you?”
She smoothed her hand over the pages of the book. “Of course I will,” she said, as if there was never any chance that she wouldn’t.
“We can travel the whole continent,” Win said. “We’ll walk the ruins of Rome, and taste grapes straight from the vine in Sicily, and bathe in the blue seas of Greece.”
“And walk barefoot on the beach.”
“Barefoot? How scandalous,” she said.
“And there will be no brothers to tease us.”
“And no parents to answer to,” Win added.
“It sounds wonderful.” Sarah rolled onto her back, her wistful gaze focused on the blue canopy above her bed. Win shifted onto her side to look at her friend. “We’ll have to wait for the war to end.”
The war. It was a concept that was difficult for them to grasp, sheltered as they were, but it was there, like an undercurrent, a distant fear that somehow colored everything—Napoleon, France, his empire, spreading across the continent, creeping ever closer.
“We’ll probably be a hundred before it ends,” Sarah muttered.
Win laughed. “Then we’ll have to hobble across the beaches with our walking sticks.”
“As long as you’re with me,” Sarah said softly, “I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad.”
They talked a little more about their future Mediterranean adventures. At some point, Sarah lifted her arms over her head, stretching like a cat as she yawned.
Win paused midsentence, glancing over. Sarah’s robe had slipped open, and through her thin chemise, Win could see the swell of her breasts, the dusky shadow of her nipples. She looked away, mouth suddenly dry, pulse suddenly too quick.
When she looked back, Sarah had readjusted her robe, but Win still tried to keep her gaze on her friend’s face, not daring to stray lower.
Except, when Sarah looked up at her through dark eyelashes, just a shimmer of blue, and smiled, and there was an answering ping in her chest—Win felt like she’d done something wrong anyway. Her throat was tight. Her stomach was tight. There was a restless feeling inside her, like she couldn’t sit still.
She rolled over onto her back as well, and in doing so, added some extra space between them.
“Little Sarah,” she said. “Well, your father probably won’t let you go until you’re a hundred anyway.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Sarah’s face turning toward her.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why?”
“I’m not a child.”
“You’ll always be little Sarah to me,” Win said. Though she didn’t know if that was true anymore, and she was scared of it. She was scared of things changing between them, because she didn’t know what shape they would take. Sarah was the bright spot in her life, and that was something she didn’t want to change. Not ever.
She had the feeling—and she wasn’t sure where it came from, just that it was there—that she needed to tread more carefully from now on.
The next time she and Sarah were together, they stumbled across Sarah’s cousin, Gregory Wakefield, in Lord Lark’s study.
He was tall, with rakishly good looks, dark, tousled hair and a lazy, good-natured smile. He was probably only a year or two older than Win, somewhere on the edge between boyhood and adulthood. When she came face to face with him, she stumbled to a halt, thinking back to her parents’ words.
“I didn’t know you’d arrived!” Sarah exclaimed.
“Just this morning,” he said. “The roads were dreadful, as usual.” He looked past Sarah at Win.
Sarah suddenly remembered her manners and introduced them.
“Oh! I have a book I wanted to show you,” Sarah said. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Win wondered if she should follow. It wasn’t proper to be alone with Gregory Wakefield. But the door was wide open, and Sarah would be back in less than a minute.
In the end, she stayed. She smiled, as enticingly as she could, though she’d never really tried to entice someone before.
“My parents want me to marry you,” she blurted out, before she could stop her stupid mouth from running away from her.
But he only laughed. “Do they? I’m honored. And what do you think?”
“I suppose you would do well enough.”
His smile brightened even more. “Only well enough?”
She lifted a shoulder. “You seem charming, but charm can hide any number of flaws.”
“You are quite exacting, Miss Taylor.”
Sarah came in, then, book in tow. She stopped, looked at them both. “What were you two talking about?”
“Miss Taylor was telling me I might do well enough as a husband.”
Sarah peered at her, brows knit together. “A husband?”
She shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, yes.”
“You want to marry?”
Gregory Wakefield was silent as he watched them, vaguely amused.
“Of course. You don’t?”
“I haven’t really put any thought to the matter.”
“I’m older than you,” Win pointed out. “It’s time I start thinking about it.”
And for Win, it wasn’t only a matter of want. She had to marry. Her parents would make her life miserable, otherwise. They would begrudge her every small thing that she took from them. If she chose a husband wisely, she would have distance from them and freedom for herself.
And Sarah would be sent to London for a Season at some point anyway, and no doubt she would make a glorious match. If that happened, Win would be left behind in Edinburgh.
She didn’t want that.
She didn’t want to be somewhere she couldn’t follow.
In the days that passed, she saw Gregory again, and every time she saw him, she was reminded of how much she liked him.
And Sarah didn’t ask again, about marriage, or why Win wanted to marry. She didn’t really talk about Gregory much at all, when they were alone together. But despite that one topic they didn’t touch, their friendship remained much the same as ever.
And that was all Win wanted, really.
Chapter 7
When Sarah had first found out that Win had set her cap for Gregory Wakefield, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.
They were both dear to her in different ways. She supposed they’d get on well together.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Win was hers. That Gregory was trying to take something away.
Which was ridiculous. Win belonged to no one but herself. She wasn’t a possession to have. And marriage was something that would have happened, with one of them, sooner or later. They were young, upper-class women. It was simply how things went.
And it made sense that Win would be the first. She was older.
Anyway, even if that changed, nothing else had to change. They could still be best friends, even if they were married.
But Sarah was confused, because when she told herself all of these things, which were all true, it still didn’t unfurl the tight knot in her stomach whenever she saw Gregory and Win talking privately.
More and more, she felt like there was a space between them that hadn’t been there before, though she tried to ignore it. Though she tried to carry on just the same.
Less than a year after they met, Win and Gregory married. Weddings were typically small, intimate affairs, so Sarah wasn’t invited, but she did attend the wedding breakfast afterward.
She went to sit by Win, and her spot was already taken. She went to speak to Win, and Gregory was already whispering something in her ear. Sarah was usually slow to anger, but she began to get more and more annoyed as the morning dragged on.
She passed by the billiards room, where her brothers were making ribald remarks about the wedding night.
She faltered, and then hurried past.
It was something she tried not to think about—Gregory and Win kissing, Gregory and Win doing…all the rest. She wasn’t quite sure what that entailed, but with two older brothers who didn’t always keep their voices down when they were speaking privately, she had some vague ideas.
She was walking so quickly that she collided with Win in the corridor.
Win steadied her with two warm hands on her shoulders. “Where on earth have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”
The uneasiness in Sarah’s heart subsided, if only a little. �
��You seemed preoccupied.”
“It’s been a dreadfully tiring morning. The ceremony seemed to go on for ages. You’re lucky you didn’t have to attend.”
“You don’t sound like you enjoyed it.”
She waved a hand. “It’s a formality. I’ll like the marriage more than the ceremony, I’m sure.”
“I hope so,” Sarah said, and she meant it. No matter how confused she was, no matter how annoyed, she didn’t like to think of her friend unhappy.
She looked Win over. She was wearing her best dress—a very pale green silk with white lace. Small white flowers dotted her hair, which she must have spent hours on, to get looking so tidy.
Sarah liked it better wild.
“We’ll be leaving for London in a few weeks,” Win said. “But you should visit us, as soon as you can.”
A few weeks? Something in Sarah blanched. There hadn’t been a set date before, only vague plans. It had been easy to pretend Win wasn’t leaving when London was just some far off, lightly formed thing.
Suddenly, it felt like things were happening too fast. Like Sarah had stood frozen for too long while everyone else moved around her. She grasped Win’s soft gloved hands.
Win looked at her in surprise. She must have been gripping on to her too tightly, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go. “What is it?”
“I—” I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong.
Why couldn’t she be happy for Win? Why couldn’t she be a good friend?
Not sure what to do, she leaned forward, almost on instinct. Perhaps it was meant to be a conciliatory gesture. Perhaps it was meant to be a congratulations. Even later, she wasn’t sure. She was going to kiss Win’s cheek, but Win turned her face slightly, startled, probably, by the awkward way Sarah had lunged forward, and Sarah’s lips grazed the corner of Win’s mouth. Just for an instant. So fast it almost didn’t seem real.
One sweet, sweet instant. She touched warmth and smelled Win’s rose perfume.
And a tiny piece of her broke.
She jerked back, pulse hammering in her throat.
If Win had felt the same sweet shock, she couldn’t tell.