by Lily Maxton
The window was open, bringing in a breeze tinged with the scent of fallen leaves. Summer was over, but it had been the best one Sarah had ever had, and she was looking forward to each new season.
“Stop smirking,” Win said.
“How do you know I’m smirking?”
“I know you.”
She was right. Sarah set the cup down, smile changing to something lighter, fonder. Suddenly, Win leaned forward across the table to give her a quick kiss, lips firm and sweet, before she settled back in her chair.
“What was that for?”
Win shrugged. “It just feels like a good morning. I woke up before you left.”
Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. Win had gained confidence these last few months, and with each passing day, another wall crumbled.
She hadn’t known exactly how to make Win understand her worth, after years spent with parents who’d damaged her sense of it again and again. She hadn’t known what to say to make Win realize that Sarah had never once regretted her choice. So instead of telling her, she’d shown her. In a thousand kisses and caresses, and whispered words in the heat of the night.
And Win returned them, touch for touch, word for word.
Sarah didn’t think she realized how much she utterly disarmed her sometimes.
But that was fine. Sarah had been enchanted by Win since she’d been ten years old… this feeling was only the natural way of things, like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west—each day Sarah was charmed anew.
Sarah was reaching forward, to twine their fingers together, when the sound of knocking startled her.
Win lifted an eyebrow. “It’s a little early for morning calls.”
It was a jest. They didn’t get morning calls. Only visits from James and Eleanor, and occasionally Mrs. Smith. But Sarah found she didn’t really miss the lack of companionship. The people she was still in touch with were the people she considered her true friends.
“I’ll go see who it is,” Sarah said, pushing back from the table.
“And I suppose I should get dressed,” Win said. “We already answer the door ourselves. We shouldn’t shock everyone by being too disreputable.”
Sarah smiled slightly as she crossed the room, and Win disappeared upstairs. She assumed the caller was a neighbor; she wasn’t prepared to open the door and find her father standing on the other side of it, his hat in his hands.
For a moment, they just stared at one another.
“May I come in?” he said stiffly.
“Of course.” She stepped back and watched as he glanced around the entrance hall. Tentatively, he hung his hat and greatcoat on a peg, and she wondered how often he’d had to do that himself. Had he ever done it himself?
She took him to the morning room, which was small and plain, but tidy. No wallpaper, only walls painted a pale blue, and a window that let in the morning light. The round table at the center of the room was sturdy, but worn, having come, second-hand, with the house.
She might have suspected that her father had come here to berate her, but he was unusually awkward, unusually quiet, standing there in her morning room. She felt a small flutter of hope, but didn’t give it time to take hold. “Would you like coffee?”
He stared at the kettle hanging over the fire, blinked as though shaking himself from some sort of reverie, and turned to look down at her. “It’s rather small, isn’t it?”
“The kettle?”
“The house.”
She suppressed a smile. “Smaller means cheaper. It was what we could afford.”
He grimaced, looking pained. No doubt he thought the daughter of an earl should never even utter that word.
“It won’t do, Sarah.”
“Pardon me?”
He wrung his hat in his hands like he might wring out a wet cloth. “It simply won’t do. This has gone on long enough.”
She looked down and then up again, bracing herself for a fight. “I already told you I don’t wish to marry, and I won’t give up my friends. I won’t change my mind.”
He cleared his throat. And then, to her utter amazement, her father blushed. “I’ve opened an account in your name. You’ll find in it the money that had been set aside for your dowry. I don’t particularly need it myself, as it had always been intended for you,” he finished stiffly.
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. “It’s…mine? Even if I don’t marry?”
“It’s yours,” he said. “So for God’s sake, get yourself a nicer house. And maybe a servant or two. Good God, are you doing everything yourself?”
She laughed, even though there was a suspicious pressure building at the back of her eyes. “Not everything, but I do a lot myself. It’s not so bad.”
“Well, stop it. This instant.”
“I can’t promise you that,” she said.
“Then…” He looked down at the floor, frowning at a scuff mark in the wood. He was probably wondering where all the Persian rugs were. “Can you promise you’ll visit us soon? Your mother misses you.”
“Does she?”
“I do, too,” he muttered.
“Can I bring Win?”
Her father grimaced. “That girl. If I’d known all the problems she was going to cause I never would have invited her to stay with us. She’s a worse influence than Eleanor MacGregor.”
She tried to listen for something he wasn’t saying, but found nothing. If her mother suspected the true nature of her relationship with Win, she’d hadn’t said a word about it.
“Papa…”
“Very well! Bring her if you like.”
“And stop being so unkind to Eleanor. She’s a brilliant scientist…I think you’re just angry because you wish you’d let her into your society when you had the chance.”
Sarah hadn’t known it was possible for someone to splutter, but splutter he did.
“She told you about that?”
“She did.”
He twisted his hat vengefully. “Fine! I won’t speak of her. Just…come see us, Sarah. Perhaps…perhaps you can come to dinner tonight. If you’d like,” he said quickly. “But anytime will do.”
Her father let himself out posthaste, with a flattened hat and reddened face.
She leaned forward, her hand on the shut door. Tears stung at her eyes so she closed them.
“Sarah?” Win said quietly, a few moments later. “Was that your father?”
She turned. “We’ve been invited to dinner.” Her breath caught on a sob she just barely contained.
Win cupped Sarah’s face, gently in her hand, and searched her eyes. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Good,” she whispered. “It’s good.”
“I’m glad, then. I know you’ve missed them.”
It wasn’t something Sarah talked about much, but she was sure that Win could read between the silences.
“I tried not to,” she admitted. “I felt like I didn’t have the right. I’ve been so happy with you.”
Win kissed her, just underneath her eye, kissed away the salt of a tear she hadn’t even realized had slipped free. “I don’t think anyone’s ever died from too much happiness. Or too much love. We’ll just have to accept a little more of both.”
“When did you get so wise?” Sarah said, echoing a question from months ago.
This time, Win’s answer was different, though. “Maybe I always have been,” she said cheekily, “and you’ve just been slow to notice.”
“How remiss of me. I should probably make that up to you.”
“You should,” Win agreed. “You truly should.”
Sarah stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to the corner of Win’s mouth. She was about to throw her arms around her to deepen the kiss, when she remembered… “I’m going to be late!”
“For the dressmaker? Are you still going?”
For now, she would. She’d have to give notice before she quit. If she quit. Perhaps she could stay on and simply take fewer hours, so she’d hav
e more time to spend with Win.
She wasn’t sure exactly what her next step would be, but they could discuss it later, when she arrived home. They would curl up next to each other on the settee and talk over cups of too-sweet tea. It wouldn’t be all that different from when they were younger. Many things had changed, of course, in the interim years, but in the end, they were what they’d always been.
Sarah and Win. Win and Sarah. Best friends, soul mates, two women who were desperately in love.
Sarah stepped out onto the walking pavement and, smiling, tilted her face toward the sun.
Thank you
Thank you for reading A Lady’s Desire!
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Also by Lily Maxton
TOWNSEND SERIES
Enchanting the Earl
The Rogue’s Conquest
A Scot’s Surrender
Claiming the Highlander’s Heart
Highland Haunting
A Lady’s Desire
About the Author
Lily Maxton grew up in the Midwest, reading, writing, and daydreaming amid cornfields. After graduating with a degree in English, she decided to put her natural inclinations to good use and embark on a career as a writer.
When she’s not working on a new story, she likes to tour old houses, add to her tea stash, and think of reasons to avoid housework.
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