“Oh?”Sarahresponded.“Ihadn’trealized arrangements had already been made.” Damn him for leaving me the last to know. “M-May I take your wraps?” she offered as the dress maker briskly unbuttoned her cape, reveling a plain but richly tailored gown of the same material.
“No-no, dear,” the woman waved her o ff, as her small, bright eyes narrowed to make a lightening assessment of Sarah’s tall, slender shape hidden somewhat by wrapper she wore. A softened her hawkish features which were framed by graying hair escaping from a severe bun at the nape of her neck. “I shall enjoy outfitting you,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I weary of hiding figure flaws, though I do it well. You, my dear, are perfect for my creations – softly rounded, tall and not ashamed of it.”
the rather unbecomingly faint, but pleasant smile “Myneckis--.”
“Your neck is splendid. Ru ffles at the throat and décolletage equally become you, I am sure. Remove your robe, please,” she ordered, bending to extract a measuring tape from one of the cases the helper had opened on the floor. “I will take your measurements now.”
Thus commenced a flurry of activity as the three women discussed fashion, shuffled through fabric samples, selected trims and made arrangements for fittings and purchases of suitable accessories. Despite her severe nature, Madame Petit was an appealing woman, one moment charming, the next commanding, but always wise and professional. She knew her business and accomplished it posthaste. The young girl, whose name was Rachell, turned out to be the niece of Madame Petit’s late husband, and despite her solemn countenance, she was pleasant and accomplished at assisting her aunt. They were a discerning, efficient pair and Sarah was more than pleased that Stewart had selected them to replenish her wardrobe.
Sarah helped them pack up swatches of material and trims with some regret. Their visit had turned out to be a welcome respite from her otherwise troubled evening. It was only now that she again thought of Stewart and Felicia and how their evening was progressing. Giving herself a mental shake, she stepped back from the case she was filling, allowing Rachell to close it up. “Thank you so much for coming at this late hour,” she addressed Madame Petit warmly. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your help. I was not looking forward to journeying to Boston with but two gowns
– and one not even my own.”
Madame Petit patted Sarah’s hand affectionately. “When Mr. Henderson summoned me on behalf of Mr. Chamberlain, we came as quickly as possible. He’s always been a favorite patron.” And before Sarah could speculate, Eliane added, “This will be the first time he’s been to Charleston without purchasing a gown or wrap for his sister. But under the circumstances, there simply isn’t time to design one, let alone make it.”
“Mrs. Slade will be disappointed, I’m sure,” Sarah murmured regretfully, wishing she had not been the cause of her hostess’s deprivation.
“Margaret Slade?” Madame Petit interjected sharply. “My dear, she is the kindest, most unselfish woman you’re likely to meet in this country. Her husband and brother indulge her only because they adore her, not because she requires such consideration. Unlike some others ....” Her last words hung without completion only for a moment, leaving Sarah no time for speculation. “Excuse me please, Lady Sarah.” Helene recouped briskly as if irritated with her slip into the realm of gossip. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, but Rachell and I must hurry. No doubt my driver is anxious to complete his duties for the evening, and we have much work to begin tomorrow morning.”
With a flourish, Eliane Petit donned her cape, gave Sarah’s proffered hand a final squeeze and bustled Rachell into the hall. “Fear not, Lady Sarah,” she called from the doorway, “we’ll have you a wardrobe fit for the crowned heads in no time. Good evening.” And with a wave, the women were gone, leaving Sarah somewhat breathless over the older one’s display of energy and confidence.
“It’s all right, Sarah. It’s only me.” Sarah had awakened with a start, the presence of a shadowy form bringing her to full, frightened consciousness in the quiet, fire-lit bedroom.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”shehissed,her eyes adjusting to the dark as she looked on Stewart’s silhouette crouched before the fireplace.
“Your room is cold,” he stated matter-offactly. “I was putting another long on the fire.” Rising, he added, “I didn’t mean to awaken you.”
“Well you did,” she mumbled crossly, though secretly pleased to see him. “You shouldn’t be here,” she added for propriety’s sake.
“Perhaps not.” She sensed that he was smiling, though she couldn’t see his face at the foot of the large bed for the light was behind him. “But I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Quite,” she replied pettishly, remembering with whom he had spent his evening. “You’d better go.” Decorum did not dictate her words nearly so much as a trembling desire to invite him closer. Would this torture never end? Being ever so close, yet unable to taste the sweetness of his kiss, the hard longing of his body?
Heshowednopenchantforleaving, choosing instead to lounge casually against the sturdy bedpost. “Madame Petit. Was she to your liking?”
“Yes, of course. We accomplished a great deal. She has quite an eye for color and design,” Sarah rambled, somewhat breathlessly, unnerved by his presence. “Why didn’t you tell me we’d be sailing next week?”
“An oversight, for which I apologize,” he intoned lazily, refusing to explain further. Pushing himself away from the bedpost with his shoulder, he drifted to a seat near her on the high bed. Instinctively, Sarah curled her legs closer to her body. Any physical contact, she was sure, would be her undoing.
In the short silence, Sarah had a chance to wonder why Stewart was here, and not with Lady Felicia. The question was on the tip of her tongue, but knowing he would realize her jealousy prevented her from being direct. Instead she forced herself to break the pregnant pause with a benign inquiry. “Your evening, did it go well?”
“We had a pleasant meal in the hotel dining room, if that’s what you’re referring to,” Stewart replied.
“Did you go to the Ram’s Head after?” she asked, remembering his promise to the sailors at the dock.
His darkened face studied her. “No, Ross and Felicia’s unexpected appearance precluded those plans.”
Without another word, his hand came up to brush a stray lock of silky hair from her face. Nervously, she turned her gaze away, but his fingers remained to caress the sweet-smelling tresses. “Has it been difficult for you,” he murmured gently, his voice barely audible above the crackling fire, “sleeping alone after all those weeks on the island?”
“Please go,” she begged, turning to clutch the pillow beside her head as if it were an anchor against the storm that was raging inside. He appeared not to hear her as his lean fingers traced the pulsing artery beneath the plush softness of her skin.
“You are a bonafide addiction, Lady Sarah,” he whispered. “More than once I have awakened to find myself searching for your tender body to warm my own.” Stewart’s searing lips gently tempted the sensitive spot behind her delicate ear as he murmured, “I want you, Sarah. God, how I want you.”
He was already pushing the loose chemise away from her shoulders when Sarah cried out with her last vestige of sanity. “You’re mad to come here. Leave at once or I shall scream.” With a burst of strength, she twisted herself to a sitting position before him, realizing too late that her own undergarments had betrayed her by falling away from her heaving breasts. Her gasp was at once swallowed by Stewart’s firm mouth, his tongue wasting no time exploring its target.
Angry and frightened of the power he held over her, Sarah struggled but her slender arms were pinned uselessly by her shift and his strong arms wrapped around her. His fine wool waistcoat brushed intoxicatingly against her peaking breasts. Sarah moaned at the overwhelming temptation of his practiced assault.
His kisses were relentless, gentle yet with a persuasive fervor she could not hope to ward off. His coming he
re was wrong; their entire intimate relationship was wrong. But knowing, admitting that, was still not helping her now. She loved him and her love made her weak, a slave to his undeniable passion.
His hands had released her from the imprisonment of her chemise and now he seemed bent on holding her close while loosening his own clothing. Finally forced to release her in order to throw off his vest and shirt, she gasped tearfully in a final attempt to stop him. “Felicia is here for you now. Can’t you finally leave me alone?”
Itwasasifshehadslappedhim.Hisdark eyes grew narrow and a metallic glint pierced her soul. His jaw worked ominously as he stared down at her. “You think I have come only to ease some primitive desire? Something that any comely wench could satisfy?”
Shaken by his crudeness, she nonetheless could not give words to a lie that would stop his callousness. “You’ve given me no cause to think otherwise,” she choked, knowing she was forcing an issue whose outcome would bring her no satisfaction. Stewart did not love her, had no desire to marry her, and would not pretend simply to continue his seduction.
His defensiveness suddenly turned to resignation. Combing his fingers through his freshly trimmed hair, he sighed, “I believe whatever our feelings are for each other, they are not the same ... or else we would not be discussing them now.”
The silence that followed was broken momentarily by the crackling fire and the disconsolate hiss of burning sap. For Sarah, it seemed to mock the sound of her breaking heart. Straightening his clothes, Stewart rose, offering, “I apologize for my indiscretion. I have no right to be here, as you say.”
His head bent while he gathered his waistcoat and put it on. She could not see his eyes. “I was going to inform you later, but I may as well tell you now.” Sarah pressed her arms around herself, curling up tighter as she sunk behind the covers, knowing she would be wounded even deeper by what he had to say.
“I will not be accompanying you to Boston.” His voice was clipped, precise, showing no emotion whatsoever. “I’ve decided to finish some business here and join you and Jeremiah later.” Shocked, never even entertaining the possibility that Stewart would be absent, she simply stared at him, a glaze settling over her vivid blue eyes. He added, “You may now feel utterly safe.”
Despite her own pain, Sarah could see that Stewart was not pleased with himself. His parting words seemed to prove her correct. “I somehow felt,” he began tentatively, “that what happened between us on that blasted island was mutually agreeable – and that it could be put into perspective –
shrugged his
not completely forgotten.” He
hands into his trouser pockets, locking her eyes in a serious gaze. “But as society does not allow women to enjoy life with the same appetite as men, nor enable them to entertain fond memories of a past, I promise this night never to subject you to any recollections of shared intimacies. What transpired, I assure you as a gentleman, did not. Good evening, Lady Sarah.”
It was over. He was gone, leaving Sarah to suffer through the longest night of her life. CHAPTER 33 The journey to Boston was miserable, and only partly due to the frigid weather. Jeremiah, Sarah and the crew sailed in the bleek coldness of November, following a sumptuous farewell dinner with Felicia, Ross and, of course, Stewart. Each attempted a lighthearted mood, but it seemed, at least to Sarah, that only Stewart and Felicia were truly enjoying themselves. Jeremiah, she knew, longed to be in Boston with his darling Peggy and the children. Ross might have had a better time if Sarah had been able to respond to his kindnesses more receptively. But she was homesick, she explained, and found herself feeling worse as she told him some of her family’s Christmas traditions.
Sarah prayed that somehow by now her parents had learned that she was safe in America. She had posted letters the day they’d arrived in Charleston. She knew the posts should reach them well before Christmas, and it lightened her heart somewhat to know that the good news was on its way back to England.
During the voyage, Jeremiah sensed that all was not well with Sarah, and though they shared the special closeness of people who have weathered grave danger together, he did not pry and she did not seem to want to discuss any personal matters with him.
At one point, he had tried to tease her, in hopes of bringing a shine of humor to her strangely sad eyes. “So how does it feel to be a free woman again?” he had asked cheerfully.
“Free?”Shehadresponded,confused. Obviously her thoughts had been somewhere else. “Oh, you mean free of d’Alava.”
“Actually,” Jeremiah replied, “I meant free of the bonds of matrimony. The paper you signed ....” “Oh, that!” Sarah answered, a flash of raw emotion – was it pain? – momentarily crossing her features. “It has been destroyed, I trust?”
“Stewart took care of it,” Jeremiah assented. “You must be happy that the charade is over. I know it was a difficult thing for you to do, and I, for one, am truly apologetic for the inconvenience of it all.” He added softly, “I knew from the moment we met that some women’s penchant for deception was foreign behavior to you. But you are quite a survivor – and you and Stewart performed masterfully. It was almost ....”
Sarah at once interrupted with an almost hysterical laugh. “Oh, Captain Slade, I am just glad the whole ordeal is in the past. And yes, it does feel better to be free again. Much better ....” And then she had suddenly excused herself from the conversation, looking even more woebegone than she had before.
Jeremiah had been distressed, to say the least. She looked older, he decided, and not well. But this he attributed to their harrowing experience, Tegan’s death, and the current frigid conditions for sailing. It made him all the more eager to be reunited with Peggy. She would care for Sarah, and bring the bloom of youthfulness back to the Englishwoman’s cheeks. Sarah, after all, was the daughter of a wealthy and high-ranking family. She had led a pampered life and was most likely suffering from the lack of daily luxuries.
When the Endeavour berthed in Boston Harbor, it was snowing. The cold white flakes brought a muffled hush to the darkening city and only the warm glow of window lamps pierced the hazy winter atmosphere. “We’re just in time for the evening meal,” Jeremiah beamed happily as he lifted Sarah into a hired carriage. “I can’t wait to thaw out in the bosom of my family.” His ruddy face split into a grin that was positively adorable, Sarah thought, responding to his infectious anticipation.
Her
considerably destination Jeremiah was so fond of discussing. She knew that he and Peggy had three children – young Jeremiah, who was six; Ethan who was four; and Rebecca, who would be a year old on Christmas Day. Jeremiah hadn’t seen them all for six months and was quite sure that Rebecca would be virtually unrecognizable.
down-trodden mood had lifted
with the prospect of reaching her and meeting this wonderful family The Slade home was a gracious, white colonial structure on a heavily-populated hill overlooking the harbor. It took only minutes to arrive there, but Jeremiah was so impatient, it seemed as though he was almost ready to jump from the carriage and run the two blocks. Sarah was sure he would have if she hadn’t been in his care.
As Jeremiah restlessly paid the driver and began grabbing one of Sarah’s cases, she touched his arm, demanding, “Please Captain Slade. The driver and I can manage my things. Go greet your family.”
With a grateful smile, he wheeled around, dashed up the snow-covered walkway and took the front steps two at a time – as fast as his lanky legs could carry him. Sarah hung back in the carriage, watching as he opened the door and hooted a huge greeting to those within. The chattering of women and children commenced at once and before the door closed, Jeremiah was surrounded by loving kin.
The glimpse of the warmth inside the home brought tears to Sarah’s eyes and she choked with, it seemed, both happiness and misery. Happy for Jeremiah and his family, surely; but miserable because this family reunion was one she could only observe from afar. Her heedless plunge into the depths of love had been take
n alone; Stewart would never see her as Jeremiah saw Peggy – his one true love. There would be no other, and now she felt only a shell of her former self. The memories of Stewart’s kisses, his touch, his bravery and humor, were more painful, not less, and the realization that he was happy in Charleston with his Felicia made the torture even greater.
“Can I give you a hand, miss?” the driver was asking, and Sarah quickly scrubbed her eyes with her gloved knuckles. I must stop this nonsense, she urged herself as the kindly driver helped her down to the snow-covered sidewalk.
As she turned to take the small bag the driver handed her, a lilting feminine voice called from the portico. “Lady Sarah, are you coming?” Sarah turned to gaze up to the doorway to the sight of a young woman, her head and shoulders covered in a light shawl. Not waiting for an answer, she picked her way down the stairs, heedless of the snowy cold.
Concerned that the woman would catch her death, Sarah skittered toward the figure calling, “Oh please, Mrs. Slade, you needn’t come out here. It’s freezing.”
“But I cannot wait to welcome you,” Peggy called, moving as fast as she could on the slippery walk. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here!”
They were almost within reach of each other when the inevitable occurred. Peggy slipped, and Sarah, attempting to steady her, found herself tumbling as well. With a whoop and a thud, they landed in a heap as the amazed driver looked on.
Sitting up and finding themselves in each other’s arms, they both giggled, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. It was the warmest of welcomes, in spite of the cold.
“Lady Sarah,” Peggy panted as she pulled her shawl away from her face where it had twisted. “I’m Margaret Slade, and I think it’s just wonderful that you’ve come to visit us.” And with that, she hugged her bedazzled guest as they again rocked and laughed in the snow.
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