by Jenna Jaxon
Mathew Rourke, the Duke of Balton, was a severe, studious, and brooding man who would rather stick pins in his eyes than attend a Society event – the very place Isabelle’s light shined the brightest.
At first, Daniel had been convinced he had nothing to worry about.
But he wasn’t blind or stupid. And from practically the first second he’d seen those two together he’d known his cause was lost.
The pull they had reminded him painfully of how he and Sarah had felt for one another. Well, he at least. He couldn’t speak for Sarah. It was possible that she was just a consummate actress, as her brother had drunkenly said.
But the odd relationship between Isabelle and Balton hadn’t stopped Daniel from foolishly asking Isabelle to marry him. After all, it didn’t seem like Balton would ever marry the girl.
Their wedding just a few months ago had proven him wrong.
It was his lot in life, it seemed, to have beautiful women slip through his fingers.
Daniel hadn’t attended the small, private ceremony, though he’d been invited. It didn’t seem appropriate.
But he had to admit to himself that he was happy for Isabelle and Balton. If Daniel were the romantic type, he would say that no two people belonged together more than those two.
And he couldn’t have given Isabelle the life that Balton could. Because he didn’t love her, and the other man did.
He liked her, was fond of her, but the truth was he’d felt relief when Isabelle had refused him, even though his ego had been bruised. And as time went on, he began to realise his feelings toward her were completely platonic and nothing more.
Which was just as well since she’d married someone else!
A cool wind whipped Daniel’s great coat around him, shaking him from his reverie.
The weak afternoon light was dimming already, and soon it would be dangerous for him to keep riding.
He pulled his watch chain from the pocket of his waistcoat and checked the time.
It wouldn’t take much longer for him to reach his hunting lodge, a recent purchase on the outskirts of a small Scottish hamlet.
The Christmas season was fast approaching, and he had no desire to take part in his mother’s over-the-top festivities. Better to wait it out up here in rural Scotland in isolation. For next year, he would have to begin to search in earnest for a bride, and the thought was unappealing enough without having to suffer through parties of his mother’s where every single woman under the age of fifty would be thrown in his direction.
Title before happiness.
Duty before love.
Daniel allowed himself a deep sigh of self-pity before shaking himself from his depressive thoughts. Generally, he was a happy, good-humoured sort. He needed to remember that before he became as brooding as Lord Balton.
Though perhaps there was something to be said for brooding.
After all, Mathew had gotten the girl. And Daniel had gotten rejected. Again.
CHAPTER TWO
“This is ridiculous,” Sarah Starling complained bitterly as the wind whipped her velvet evening cloak around her satin slippers.
“Humour me.” Her cousin Elizabeth hooked Sarah’s elbow with her own and grinned in excitement.
“You know it’s the same every year,” Sarah tried again as Elizabeth practically dragged her along the road to the Winter Ball in the Assembly Rooms.
Even from this distance, the ladies could see the light from what must be hundreds of lanterns and torches and hear the cacophony of sounds permeating the cold night.
Sarah wasn’t usually so ill-tempered, but the joviality of Christmastide was jarring to her this year, though she couldn’t say why.
Since she’d run away from London to live quietly with her cousin Elizabeth and her husband, Sarah had truly enjoyed her new life in Scotland. The people in the quaint village were friendly and had taken her into their fold without question.
Elizabeth and George had never made her feel unwelcome or like a burden. In fact, they insisted that she had improved their life immeasurably, though she was sure they were just being kind.
Though she had taken over the tutelage of their children, a sort of governess, she supposed. It helped to soothe her guilt for imposing on their generosity so much.
George’s baronetcy was a comfortable living, and he was a clever investor but still, hers was an extra adult mouth to feed. And though she had her own money, it wouldn’t last forever.
She had been intending to find a small cottage where she could live peacefully with only her newly discovered, shameful secret for company, far away from her odious brother when she had come to Elizabeth for help. But her dear cousin refused to allow Sarah to live alone, insisting that she take rooms in their large house.
Sarah was grateful to say the least, but she really did feel that the time was coming for her to move on.
Elizabeth and George’s son John was nearing the age for Eton, and their daughter Hattie would be old enough for finishing school a mere two years after.
Once the children were gone, Sarah really had no reason to stay with them.
Upon reaching the entrance steps to the Rooms, Elizabeth squeezed Sarah’s arm in anticipation before letting go to move in front of her in the crush.
Just ahead of them, the people were milling about, calling greetings and compliments with a lack of the stiff formality that usually coloured these types of events in Town.
George, who had been chatting with an acquaintance, turned to hold an arm out for his wife, smiling indulgently at her obvious excitement.
Sarah watched with a sort of envy. She should have had that life. A husband, children, a home of her own.
And now what was she but a spinster, dependent relative?
As always, when she allowed herself to think of her life in London, an image of the Duke of Darthford flashed in her mind, and her heart twisted again.
She should have known their short time together was too good to be true.
They’d spent only weeks together before Sarah’s parents had been killed in a tragic accident.
She remembered the day she’d received the news. All she’d wanted was Daniel. His strong, broad shoulders would have helped her carry the burden of grief.
In fact, she’d been on the verge of defying social protocol and writing to him, asking him to come, when her brother had burst into her rooms stinking of brandy and had relished dealing her the blow that had shattered her whole life.
And worse, made any sort of future with Daniel impossible.
It had been too much. The loss of her parents, the viscount and viscountess. The knowledge that she was now at the mercy of her horrible brother, who held evidence of her shame and therefore all the power. The knowledge that she could never be with Daniel when her heart was already so completely, irrevocably his.
Sarah had thought to run to her only true friend for help. But Isabelle’s mother, Lady Farrow, had never really approved of her daughter’s friendship with Sarah, the daughter of a lower Peer with a bad reputation. Her father’s penchant for frequenting less-than-salubrious gaming hells was well known, after all. And only her mother’s wealth kept the family’s pockets from being to let. If Sarah had turned up at the duke’s house in the state she was in, she had no doubt Lady Farrow would have slammed the door in her face before Isabelle was even told she was there.
Besides, she would no more drag Isabelle into her disgrace than Daniel. She cared about them both far too much to involve them in such a scandal.
And so, with nowhere left to turn in London and with her life in tatters around her, Sarah had packed a bag and left. She could have left a note for her brother, for Isabelle, for Daniel. But what would have been the point?
Any inheritance she would have received from her parents would be contested by her brother, Michael. And there was no way she would ever want the details of a shameful legal battle played out over the Society pages.
It would not only destroy her, but her mother�
��s memory, too.
Sarah remembered the terror of that night. The hopelessness. The grief, not only for her parents but for the life that would no longer be hers.
Most of all though, as the stage coach had lumbered away from London and the life she’d always known, Sarah grieved for the heart she had left behind with a man who didn’t even know it was his.
“Miss Starling, Lady Elizabeth, good evening.” A bellowing voice interrupted Sarah’s musings, and she smiled down at the short, rotund lady who had appeared at her side.
They had made their way to the top of the series of steps that led to the Assembly Rooms and weren’t ideally placed to conduct a conversation with Mrs. McGregor, who loved to talk but was deaf as a post. George had abandoned them as soon as he’d seen the diminutive gossip approaching, leaving the ladies to their own devices.
However, Sarah knew from experience that the lady wouldn’t be put off. And certainly wouldn’t care that she was inconveniencing people.
“How are you, Mrs. McGregor?”
“How well you look, Miss Starling,” the lady shouted, either not hearing or ignoring Sarah’s greeting. “Why haven’t you caught a husband yet?”
Sarah felt her face flame as everyone in the vicinity heard the old lady’s question. And what was she to say to that?
Sarah smiled indulgently, determined not to ruin the festive mood of the evening by allowing her embarrassment to show.
Besides, apart from the impertinent question and her maudlin memories, it was a pleasant evening. The rooms were bustling with townspeople, Christmas music sounded from the open windows, and shouts of greeting were interspersed with barks of laughter and animated chatter. It was hard not to get a little swept up in it.
Before Sarah could think up an appropriate response, Elizabeth came to her rescue.
“Mrs. McGregor, did you hear that the vicar wants to hold the Christmas pageant in the morning this year, instead of the evening? Why, it is shocking, is it not?”
Mercifully, the old gossip seemed to have heard Elizabeth’s question and was immediately up in the boughs about it, ranting and raving, threatening to have poor Mr. Morely booted out of the parish and all sorts.
Sarah squinted her eyes at her cousin, quite sure she hadn’t heard such a thing. Mr. Morely was nothing if not a stickler for tradition. And judging by Elizabeth’s subtle wink, her cousin had decided to rescue her by surrendering the poor vicar to Mrs. McGregor’s displeasure.
Well, Sarah wasn’t going to allow the man’s sacrifice to be in vain. It would be some time before Elizabeth managed to extricate herself now, so Sarah took full advantage and slipped away, knowing the older woman would have forgotten all about her by this stage.
Stepping just inside the doorway of the main ballroom, Sarah handed over her cloak to a waiting footman. In London, she never would have dreamed of entering a room alone. But things were very different here in Landscastle, Scotland, and nobody batted an eyelid at her arriving unescorted.
She turned in a slow circle, taking in the sights and sounds around her.
Everything blurred together in a kaleidoscope of colour, with nothing in particular catching her eye.
Could she be happy alone, she wondered, as life went on around her.
Could her heart ever heal from the hurt, the betrayal? The loss of Daniel?
They hadn’t spoken words of love. They hadn’t even shared more than the merest brushing of lips. They’d never really had the chance to.
So why did she feel as though any chance of happiness had remained behind in London with him?
And why was he featuring so prominently in her thoughts tonight?
Mrs. McGregor’s question was niggling at her, too. It was possible that Sarah would marry. Not anyone of her class. That could never happen. Certainly not a duke. But maybe a farmer or local merchant?
She ignored the misery that swept through her at the thought.
She was lucky. She had people who loved her and a roof over her head. Not everyone in her position was as fortunate.
Sarah heard Elizabeth yell valiantly at Mrs. McGregor, asking after the lady’s health.
It would be some time before her cousin extricated herself, but Sarah didn’t want to go fully into the room alone, feeling self-conscious and truly, rather lonely.
Perhaps it was just that it was Christmastide, a time for family celebrations. And rather than have a family of her own, Sarah was merely on the periphery of one.
Perhaps all her memories of Daniel that had surfaced were making her miss him even more than usual.
Whatever it was, she needed to stop this moping.
Tomorrow morning, she was to take the children hunting for holly boughs, and the last thing they needed was a grumpy aunt ruining their fun.
Though she was strictly a second cousin, she had arrived when Hattie had been a mere toddler and was now as close to Elizabeth as a sister could be, and so she was Aunt Sarah to the children.
And tomorrow she needed to be Aunt Sarah with a smile on her face.
Coming here tonight had been a bad idea, Sarah knew. It was why she’d tried to cry off.
She would wait awhile then plead a headache. Any one of the matriarchs in attendance would be happy to take her home, and they always left the festivities early.
Feeling better now that she knew she could soon be back at the manor house and wallowing selfishly in self-pity, Sarah stepped fully into the room, determined to appear as though she were having the time of her life.
The small orchestra in the corner played the opening bars of a reel, and people began to excitedly partner up and make their way toward the small dancing area.
As the crowd dispersed, Sarah was able to see the room properly, and she glanced around, nodding a greeting here and there.
Suddenly, her eyes clashed with a pair of deep, dark green ones. The exact colour of the moss that grew over the Scottish countryside.
Good heavens! It couldn’t be.
Sarah’s heart stopped dead in her chest, before picking up again and galloping wildly.
Had her musings conjured such a clear image of him?
No, it was he. Daniel. Her Daniel. The Duke of Darthford himself was standing across the room from her and looking at her as though he’d seen a ghost.
Before her mind could even process what she was seeing, her feet were carrying her toward him.
She would run to him, throw herself into his arms and–
And, what?
Her feet came to a stop. Nothing had changed. She still couldn’t be with him, much as she wanted to, and she gasped aloud at the pain of that truth.
All of these thoughts flew through her head in milliseconds, as her eyes greedily drank him in.
Oh, the years had been good to him, as she’d known they would be.
He stood taller than she remembered, broader than she remembered, his strong, expansive shoulders filling the black evening jacket to perfection.
His face was the same. As handsome as ever, even if the look on it now was one of surprise and not the tenderness it used to hold.
Sarah’s head couldn’t seem to catch up to her heart, which was jumping for joy even as it had despaired only seconds ago.
Daniel was here. Here in Landscastle!
A small Scottish town of little consequence to anyone. Why, it didn’t even have any gentry apart from George and Elizabeth, and two or three other families.
So why would a duke be here?
Even as she stared at him as though he were a mirage, Sarah heard Mrs. McGregor’s booming voice from the hallway.
“Yes, yes. The hunting lodge. Sold after all this time to a duke no less. Wanted somewhere quiet but close to his Edinburgh holdings. Well, he’s a long way from Edinburgh, but the English never did know enough about Scotland, if you ask me.”
Sarah winced slightly. Not only was Elizabeth English herself, but Sarah was quite sure that if she could hear the bellowing lady, Daniel certainly could, too.
What should she do? They couldn’t very well stand here staring at each other all evening. In her periphery, Sarah could see people were already beginning to whisper and stare.
The mature thing to do would be to find Elizabeth and George and go introduce them.
After all, if Daniel had bought the hunting lodge and was planning on staying in the area – her heart skittered again at the idea – then it was only right she introduce the next highest-ranking Peer.
Yes. That was mature. That was responsible.
Then he moved. Just one infinitesimal step toward her. But it was enough.
She didn’t go and find Elizabeth and George. No, she did what she did best.
She turned on her heel and ran away.
CHAPTER THREE
It couldn’t have been her, could it?
Daniel’s mind was whirring with questions and possibilities while his heart was still recovering from the shock.
When he’d arrived in Landscastle this morning and been greeted by the local magistrate, Mr. McGregor, and his garrulous wife, they’d insisted that he be introduced at tonight’s event.
He would have rather stuck pins in his eyes. Yet he’d quickly discovered that if he wanted to escape Mrs. McGregor’s ear-splitting chatter, he’d better accept.
So, he’d found himself here at the Assembly Rooms drinking warm lemonade and being eyeballed like a spectacle at a sideshow.
He had spoken briefly to the magistrate, whose wife was choosing to stay outside and greet incomers, lest she miss something, and then he’d been left to his own devices as Mr. McGregor went to root out suitable introductions.
Daniel had drunk his disgusting lemonade and prepared to be a dutiful and mannerly Peer as he’d always been.
And then the crowd had parted, and he’d seen her.
Sarah. Here.
And more beautiful than he could countenance.
His eyes had raked greedily over her, desperate to take in every inch of her, even as he wondered at his reaction.