by Jenna Jaxon
Three years ago, she’d run away from her brother and his threats like a frightened little girl.
Now she would face him like a strong woman, even if she felt anything but.
“I told you I would leave, and I did,” Sarah said firmly, though she heard the wobble in her voice. “I didn’t come back. I didn’t try to claim my inheritance. I told you that you could have it all. Why come here to torment me?”
Michael laughed harshly.
“Tormenting you is a happy coincidence, sister mine. I came here to make sure you weren’t going to be foolish enough to attempt a return to Society. I didn’t want anyone” —his eyes darted to Daniel who was standing as still as a statue, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched— “convincing you that coming back would be a good idea. You keep your end of the bargain, and I’ll keep mine. If I get a whiff of a return, I’ll ensure that every household in London hears of your disgrace.”
“And drag your own title and father’s legacy through the mud?” Sarah scoffed. She knew Michael didn’t care about her or their mother. But he had idolised their indolent father. Hero-worshipped the man.
“Father’s dead, and I’m a viscount. My reputation will withstand near enough anything. But who, my dear, will open their doors to a disgraced bastard, hmm?”
His words elicited a gasp from one of their spectators, but Sarah didn’t look to see who.
She felt her cheeks scald with shame.
It wouldn’t be long, she knew, before someone noticed their group on the balcony, and given Elizabeth and George were hosting this event, their absence would be doubly noted.
“Michael, it’s time you left. This house and Landscastle. Sarah has told you she won’t be back, and she won’t. She has given you no reason to suspect that she would renege on her promise. Now get out.” Elizabeth sounded angrier than Sarah had ever heard her, and she was beyond grateful to her cousin for championing her so.
It seemed to Sarah that Michael took an age staring around at all the occupants of the balcony before laughing humourlessly and straightening his jacket. “Darthford, I expect I’ll see you back in Town after Christmastide. Alone,” he finished pointedly.
Daniel, for his part, remained granite-like, looking straight ahead, ignoring Michael and everyone else.
“Sarah, I expect you to keep your distance.”
And that was it. No affection. Not even a glimpse of caring. She continued to be punished for her mother’s sins by losing her inheritance and her family, it seemed.
As much as she despised her brother, it still felt terribly lonely.
Elizabeth strode forward and gathered Sarah into a swift hug. “I’m so sorry, my dear. Are you all right?” she whispered.
Sarah nodded, though she felt anything but.
“George and I will make sure Michael leaves,” Elizabeth continued. “I’ll leave you to talk.”
With a swift glance at Daniel, who still hadn’t moved, Elizabeth walked to flank one side of Michael, with George on the other.
And just like that, her brother was gone from her life again, and she and Daniel were alone.
Where to start?
“I—“
“He—“
They both spoke at once, and Sarah stumbled to an awkward halt.
“He is the reason you left London?”
She could only nod. Daniel wasn’t expressing any emotion whatsoever, and she didn’t know what to do in the face of that.
He had said he loved her. Had that changed now?
“Why didn’t you tell me back then? Let me help?” His voice was still toneless, but his eyes darkened with some emotion or other.
Sarah smiled sadly. “I didn’t want you embroil you in the scandal.”
Suddenly, she just wanted it all out in the open. To purge herself of the shame. To finally be completely honest and let the chips fall where they may.
“My mother had left me an inheritance. Just mine. Michael was to be a trustee until my twenty-first birthday. But h-he found letters pertaining to my—” She swallowed past a sudden lump. “My birth. My mother had — well, my father wasn’t…”
She stopped and sighed. “The viscount isn’t my father. I don’t know who is.”
Daniel didn’t move, didn’t speak. And Sarah couldn’t bear the thought of how he must be feeling about her now.
“My mother wasn’t a bad woman, Daniel. She was kind and loving and, and my father was a beast. I know what she did was indefensible but…” She trailed off, for what did it matter now, in any case? The damage had been done. Done to her.
“You should have told me. You should have told me when you first found out or at the very least, when I first came to Landscastle.”
The deadened tone and lack of expression somehow made her feel worse than if he’d railed against her.
“I’m sorry. I know that I should have. But I was so ashamed, and I didn’t want you to get caught up in—“
“Caught up?” He laughed now, but there was no humour in the sound. “I am caught up, Sarah. I told you I loved you, damn it.”
“I know,” she mumbled.
“These letters,” he said, changing the subject so abruptly that she struggled to keep up. “They confirm that you are illegitimate?”
Her cheeks scalded again; her eyes filled with tears. She nodded miserably, not trusting herself to speak.
“And so what is your plan then? To never return to England? To never see Isabelle again, or any of your other friends? And what of me? I cannot abandon my duties to my estates. In London. So was this just a Christmas fling to you? When I return to England, you wave me off and that’s it?
Her tears fell freely now. She’d been so close to happiness, but it would have been a sham, wouldn’t it? For he was right. He had to return to England, and she couldn’t.
“No,” she sobbed. “I didn’t—“
“Or was I to leave you alone for months on end, hiding away up here in Scotland? What sort of life would that be? For either of us?”
A terrible one. A lonely one. She knew now that she couldn’t bear it if she were parted from him for so long. Yet what was the alternative?
“I didn’t think,” she admitted now, her voice heavy with her tears. “I didn’t think of anything beyond loving you and wanting to be with you.”
He studied her intently, silently, for an age. And all she could do was stare back at him and implore him with her eyes to understand.
Finally, he nodded. Once. Briefly.
Before she could ask what that meant, he turned on his heel and without a word, walked away, leaving her alone on the balcony.
She could rush after him, Sarah supposed, but what would be the point?
He knew her secret now. Her shame. And he had walked away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Merry Christmas, Aunt Sarah!”
Sarah winced inwardly at her niece’s high-pitched greeting. Her head was pounding, and a glimpse in the mirror of her bedchamber moments ago had proven that she looked as bad as she felt.
The sleepless night and hours of tears were evident in her pale complexion, in her red, puffy eyes. She’d cried herself into a fitful doze more than once, constantly jerking awake as nightmare after nightmare battered her subconscious.
Books couldn’t hold her attention. Sleep alluded her.
As dawn had broken, icy and cool, she’d sat at her small writing desk and begun to pen a letter of explanation to Daniel. But she’d given up after tears smeared the ink, and her words took on a rambling incoherency. There was so much she wanted to say, yet she didn’t have the words to say it.
She had heard the house awaken, the servants preparing for the day, yet still she stayed abed. It was only when she’d heard the children’s excited chatter that she finally pulled herself somewhat together.
It wouldn’t be fair to hide away on this of all days. Especially since she had decided in the wee hours that this was to be her last yuletide with Elizabeth’s family.
Though they would never make her feel unwanted here, these past weeks with Daniel had given her a taste of what might have been for her, and it made being on the fringes of someone else’s happy family even more untenable than before.
“Good morning, dearest,” she answered, trying to keep a smile etched on her face.
“Mama said that after church we can go skating on the pond.”
“And Cook said we can have some plum pudding before dinner.”
The children shouted over each other in a cacophony of excitement whilst Elizabeth smiled indulgently and George laughingly covered his ears.
A picture of bucolic bliss.
And it hurt like a dagger to the heart.
“All right, children. Go with Nanny to prepare for church whilst Aunt Sarah breaks her fast.” Elizabeth managed to be heard over the sound, and within seconds, the room was blissfully quiet.
Sarah adored the children and was usually charmed by their enthusiasm for any and all things. But today she was finding it hard not to burst into tears at every turn.
She smiled gratefully at her cousin before moving to the sideboard to fill a plate with things she wouldn’t eat, then sat at the table and sipped the coffee the waiting footman had poured for her.
“There seems little point in asking how you slept. You look terrible.”
“Good morning to you, too,” Sarah said to her cousin, who grinned unrepentantly.
“Michael is gone,” George said, frowning seriously. “He left the inn in quite a hurry late last night. According to Mr. Cox, as though the hounds of hell were at his heels.”
“Well, I suppose he got what he wanted,” mumbled Sarah. “There was probably little point in him staying. He’s never particularly enjoyed rural living.”
“Perhaps,” George said. “Though Cox said he seemed deathly afraid of something.”
Sarah shrugged in response. She supposed she should be more curious about what had sent her estranged brother running, but she couldn’t muster even the smallest amount of interest.
He’d come here to once more ruin her life, to make sure she stayed hidden, and he’d gotten what he’d wanted.
She would never understand quite why he hated her so much, but she found she no longer cared.
Elizabeth broke the somewhat stilted silence. “We should start to ready ourselves for church. And then, of course, we must prepare for our guests.”
Sarah studied her coffee cup, not wanting to meet any probing eyes.
“Did, ah, did his grace say if he was still going to join us for dinner?” Her cousin had all the subtlety of a fireworks display at Vauxhall’s.
“His grace barely spoke a word to me after you left the balcony, Elizabeth,” Sarah said, her tone weary. “And what he did say, gave me no reason to think he would be joining us today. Or ever again.”
“But — but he loves—“
“Elizabeth, please,” Sarah interrupted what she was sure would be a well-meaning, but infinitely painful statement. “I never really expected him to stay once he knew of my past. And I can’t blame him for that. He is a powerful duke with responsibilities to his title. I was fooling myself to think this — this thing between us could have ended any other way.”
Elizabeth and George shared a speaking glance across the table before her cousin-in-law excused himself and departed the room.
“He wouldn’t just walk away, Sarah,” Elizabeth argued as soon as her husband had left the room.
“And yet he did. I told him I loved him. And he left.”
She left out the part where he had reciprocated her feelings. It would hurt far too much to speak it aloud.
There was a fraught silence between the ladies for a moment or two before the scraping of Elizabeth’s chair broke it.
She rushed over and wrapped Sarah in a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, my dear,” she said. “I thought—“
“I did, too,” Sarah mumbled with a self-deprecating laugh. “Or hoped, rather. Foolishly as it turns out. Now, let’s ready ourselves for church.”
Without giving Elizabeth a chance to respond or argue, Sarah quickly swept from the room.
This was going to be the longest, most maudlin Christmas she’d ever had. But since she refused to make it so for anyone else, Sarah was determined to keep her fake smile in place for the day, even if it hurt her face. And her spirits would remain falsely merry, even if it hurt her heart.
***
“How kind of you to come, Mr. and Mrs. McGregor. Merry Christmas.”
Elizabeth and George welcomed a steady stream of guests to their Christmas Day feast. The party wouldn’t be anywhere near the number of guests at last night’s ball, but it would still be a fair amount.
It was the plight of being the only Peer within fifty miles, Elizabeth had said. Though she enjoyed hosting, it did always fall to her and George.
Sarah was hiding away in the corner, making chit-chat when approached but being blessedly left alone for the most part.
Outside the church earlier, it seemed that Daniel’s name had been on everyone’s lips. How he’d disappeared last night and hadn’t been seen since. How he hadn’t come to church that morning, though nobody really expected a single man to show up alone.
Even now, all anyone seemed to be talking about was how Daniel hadn’t arrived at the party yet, and speculation about whether he’d gone for good, and why.
The gossip was bad enough. The pitying glances being sent Sarah’s way were insufferable. Her smile was beginning to crack; she could feel it. And her head was pounding more and more by the second.
“And his grace, who lent such an air of sophistication to everything, is gone off forever. Such a shame.”
Right. That did it.
Sarah couldn’t stand around privy to such tidbits any longer.
Without a word to anyone, she snuck into the hallway where she retrieved a scarlet winter cloak. She quickly wrapped herself in the garment then darted through the house and out into the walled gardens.
As soon as her feet hit the crisp, cold snow, Sarah felt calmer.
The gardens were blessedly quiet and more importantly, empty.
She doubted that she’d have any company either, since the festivities would soon be starting, and nobody but her was insane enough to take a walk in freezing weather.
Her mind inevitably went to Daniel but this time, she allowed herself a spurt of anger.
“He didn’t even say goodbye.” She spat the words aloud. “What sort of person just leaves without saying goodbye?”
“You did.”
Sarah screeched in fright as the male voice sounded behind her, and she spun around, slipping on the icy ground as she went.
Two impossibly big hands darted out to steady her, and she looked up, knowing that it would be Daniel’s emerald eyes she’d be looking into.
“You’re here,” she breathed, then immediately felt foolish.
“I am,” he said evenly. He dropped his hands, and she felt the loss of contact keenly.
“I — I thought you’d left.”
“Hmm. And without saying goodbye.”
Sarah felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment at being caught not only talking to herself like a madwoman, but talking about him.
“Daniel, I—“
She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say.
Now that he was standing here in front of her, and not halfway to London as she’d suspected, her tongue was well and truly tied.
“I could have helped you, you know.” Daniel spoke quietly. “Back then.”
Sarah shook her head. “I already told you, I didn’t want to involve you in anything that would bring scandal to your door. And I was ashamed. I am ashamed.”
She looked down at her feet, at the snow melting on her slippers. She really should have changed into boots. Not only were her shoes becoming soaked through, but she’d probably catch her death.
The feel of Daniel’s hand upon her face pulled her from such munda
ne thoughts. He tilted her chin so she was forced to look at him.
“I don’t give a damn about scandal, Sarah. I don’t care what people think of you or me. I only care about you. And you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Those dratted tears sprang to her eyes again at his wonderful words. She’d never considered herself a watering pot, but here she was, crying again.
“But, my mother—“
“Your mother’s sins are her own and not yours.”
“Yet it is my life it affects. Daniel, if people ever found out, I’d be ruined.”
He shook his head slightly, dropping his hand, and she resisted the urge to pick it up and put it back. She really must control herself.
“I need you to understand something,” he said, as serious as she’d ever heard him. “I love you. I’m so in love with you I feel driven half mad with it. Every thought in my head, every action I’ve taken since I arrived here — it’s all been with you in mind.”
Goodness!
The tears fell freer still.
“I don’t give a damn about your birth, Sarah. I don’t care who your father is. I don’t care about your past. I care about your future because I want it to be my future, too.”
“But, I can’t go back there. And you said—“
“I know what I said. And I meant it. A life away from you for weeks, maybe months on end, is no life at all. I spent three years without you, my love. I don’t want to spend three more seconds the same way.”
Sarah smiled through her tears.
He was the most wonderful man in the world.
“I don’t want to be away from you, either. But Michael—“
“Is a snivelling, slimy little weasel who won’t be bothering you again,” Daniel interrupted fiercely, and the look in his eyes was so murderous that she felt suddenly frightened.
But of course, it wasn’t directed at her.
Before she could question what he meant, he spoke again.
“As I said, it’s important that you understand I love you, and I want to spend my life with you, and nothing anyone could ever say or do would change that. You do believe me, don’t you?”