A Date at the Altar

by Cathy Maxwell

  Thoughts he had once believed, but now he wondered. “I’m being told there can’t be any of us alone.” He referred to his mother and aunt’s plan for his marriage.

  “It is different for you. I’ve tried marriage. It was not good.”

  “In what way?”

  She pulled her hand from his and he let her go. However, he wasn’t going to let the topic escape.

  His step in line with hers, he said, “Speak to me, Sarah. Tell me. Don’t hold another man’s sins against me.”

  Her back stiffened. For a heartbeat of time, he expected her to demand to return to her hotel, but then she said, “I don’t believe in love. I won’t. Do you understand that? I don’t have anything in me to give.”

  “And yet, you championed your niece’s desire to marry for love.”

  “Did I have a choice? I wanted her to have what was due her because of her class, her lineage. It was the only route open to her. I am proud to say, she did not make a bad marriage.”

  “I agree. However, I remember you were set on letting her make up her own mind.”

  “As should be her right.”

  “And yet you keep a tighter rein on yourself.”

  She started as if his observation had surprised her.

  “I do the same,” he admitted.

  “We are nothing alike,” she assured him.

  “Perhaps we are more so than you imagine? We are both fiercely independent and have high ideals and are willing to battle to the wall for what we believe.” He didn’t wait for her response but concluded, “We are also both afraid of making a wrong decision. And powerless to make the right one.”

  That was true. Gavin no longer knew what he wanted.

  “Come,” he said, taking her arm. “The hour grows late. Let us leave.” He would have started in the direction of the gate, but Sarah pulled away from him.

  “What is it you want?” she demanded. She took a step closer to him, lowering her voice. “Do you want sex? Then why didn’t you take it last night? Or when we were back at the hotel? Why go through this?” She motioned to include the gardens.

  “What is your complaint?” he countered. “You haven’t shown enthusiasm for our agreement.”

  “Oh,” she said, feigning ignorance, “you want me to be enthusiastic as I sell myself? I didn’t understand. Here, let me try again, Your Grace.” She shook her bosom at him and pursed her lips. “Gavin, I am beside myself. Thank you for keeping me as a pet—”

  “That is not true and you know it.” Heat colored every word.

  Her anger evaporated. “I do. You are a decent man and I don’t say that lightly. But I don’t know what you want. Do you want me to fawn over you? To offer love—?”

  “I’ve not asked for love. Just a bit of grace, Sarah. I feel like one of the jugglers this evening, constantly meeting others’ expectations. Even yours. I yearn for a safe place.”

  It wasn’t until he spoke the words, he realized how true they were.

  And how had he arrived to this moment in life when he had done everything expected of him and yet felt as if he lived a life that was not his own?

  And what had made him think he could find the answer in Sarah?

  “Let’s leave,” he said and began walking to the gate.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sarah watched him walk away.

  Roland had not been the only one to teach her hard lessons. Men in general were not to be trusted. How many times had she witnessed the faithlessness of men like Geoff and Charles and a host of others who had assured her she had no place in their world?

  And yet, Baynton had given her paper.

  He’d given her paper.

  However, he did not stop to see if she followed.

  For a second, she thought of staying right where she was and letting him go, but then her feet moved in his direction, and she didn’t understand why. It had nothing to do with her play or his wanting her in his bed.

  It was something deeper than those things. He was the most obnoxious man she knew, and the only one she’d come to respect.

  Baynton seemed to know she was coming. His step slowed, giving her the opportunity to catch him. She stopped when she was within a foot of him.

  He halted as well.

  “My following you doesn’t mean I’ve decided to do whatever you wish,” she informed him.

  “Oh no, Sarah, I could never imagine that.”

  His dry comment startled her with its truth. Every step of the way, Baynton had allowed her to meet him as an equal. Here, at last, was a man who was honest with her whether she wanted to hear what he had to say or not. Deception was not part of his character—and that was when she knew they could be lovers.

  Lovers.

  The word had a delicious feel to it. She hadn’t had a lover since Roland. She’d never felt the desire for one until . . . now.

  He held out his hand, and she knew she could refuse it. Baynton would let her walk away.

  But if she took it, then she was accepting all of what he asked, and it had nothing to do with money or her play or houses. This was about them, about her and him, and about trust.

  In that moment, Sarah realized what a great weight her life had become. She wasn’t just trying to survive—she was also dragging the burden of all her disappointments and her fears. Then again, her doubts came down to this one certainty: She’d trusted love once before and love had deceived her.

  So, why not put her faith in respect and honesty? Perhaps her mother had been right when she’d claimed there was only one way a woman like her could survive.

  And, Baynton had given Sarah paper.

  Walking past his hand, she reached up and kissed him.

  They stood in the shadows, off to the side of the traffic on the footpath, but it didn’t matter if anyone was attending them or not. In this moment, the only thing Sarah was aware of was the feeling of his lips against hers, of the slightly rough whiskers of his jaw beneath her hands.

  He kissed back, greedily. Demanding. Hungry for her touch.

  She started to panic and then told herself this was Gavin. Slowly, she allowed herself to relax and he did as well. The kiss deepened.

  What had he said the night before? It wasn’t him she feared. That’s what he’d said . . . and he had been right.

  No, what she feared was losing herself again the way she had with Roland. Did Gavin understand how much courage it took for her to be this close to him—?

  He broke off the kiss. He bent down. “You’re crying again, just like last night. Sarah, what is it?”

  She hadn’t even been aware of her tears and she could not explain them. She placed her hands up to her face, drying the damaging evidence with her gloves.

  The duke took her hand. “Let’s leave.”

  This time, he hired a hack to drive them across the bridge. The driver had no sooner started them on their way when Baynton turned to her and said, “Tell me.”

  Sarah knew what he wanted. Her story. One she hadn’t fully shared with anyone. Once she’d told Charlene but not all of it, not the worst. She’d wanted Charlene to believe in the good of marriage. She’d wanted her niece open to taking her rightful station in life.

  “I asked you last night who hurt you,” he prodded.

  Sarah felt her chest constrict at his words. It became hard to breathe. She started to ease away from him, wanting a boundary of space.

  However, Gavin would have none of that. “You must speak.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” he said quietly.

  “I can’t breathe.”

  “You are breathing.”

  She shook her head as if to deny his words, although he was right. She knew it, she understood, but still she held back.

  “Was he your husband?” Gavin asked.

  Sarah nodded.

  “Not a good one, I imagine.”

  She shook her head.

  “What was his name?”

  “Roland. He had been a sol
dier when I first met him.”

  “Was he a brute?”

  Sarah had to think on that a moment. There had been times when she’d been happy with Roland. When all had been well between them.

  This was the problem. She could never paint him completely black—until she remembered him pushing her . . .

  “I always wanted to be better than I am.” Her damning words came out as barely a whisper, but he heard them.

  “Is this what he told you?”

  Sarah sat back in the seat. “No, my mother.” She fell silent, feeling guilty for she knew not what. It didn’t make sense and yet the indictment, especially since she’d lost the house on Mulberry Street, was a heavy mantle around her. “She hated what she called my ‘airs.’”

  “Because?”

  “It is as I told you last night,” she answered, finding it easier to breathe the more she spoke. “She assured me there was only one role for a woman like me in life.”

  “And so she ordained you to it?”

  “But I married instead. She had already died by then but I remember standing in front of the parson and feeling her spirit. I could hear her mocking me.” She looked down at her gloves. “I know I sound silly.”

  “My father mocks me all the time from the grave,” Gavin said. “I don’t find you silly at all. A disapproving parent is an impossible weight.”

  “Why would he disapprove of you?”

  “He had exacting standards for me and no matter how much I gave or how hard I tried, I always fell short of the mark. He considered my brothers as little more than fortunate spares in case anything happened to me. I was his project and the complete focus of his life. I understand why my brothers wanted to escape him.”

  “But you never did.”

  “No, I believed in my responsibilities. He started my training at a very young age. He let me know that I was not on this earth to think of myself.”

  “And so here you are—alone.”

  “The Duke of Baynton must always think of others before himself,” he replied as if by rote.

  “A girl like Sarah can’t be anything more than what her mother was or her mother’s mother before her,” she recited back. “When my mother realized how much I hated having the men she entertained around, how frightened I was, she’d slap me and tell me I’d be wiser to learn a trick or two from her. I’d still hide. I didn’t want those men to know I was there.”

  “That was wise.”

  She nodded. She knew she had been. “But then I married the worst of the lot. Roland was bold and handsome and I fell in love—whatever that means. However, by the time I received word he had died, I was glad to be rid of him. Then again, I also believed I’d failed him.”

  Those last words poured out of her, spontaneous and unconsidered. The tightness left her chest, but there was the shame. “The cruel trick was, I had no idea what a wife was supposed to do or be and so I was a miserable one to him.”

  “What did he expect?”

  “For me to be there when he wanted to remember he had a wife. And to do whatever he bid.”

  She was not conscious that she had curled her hand into a fist until he covered it with his own.

  Sarah looked at their gloved hands. She tried to unclench the fist, but it held firm . . . then she said, “I have done things of which I am ashamed.”

  “Such as?” His voice was gentle.

  “He whored me out.”

  There, she’d said it. The thing she’d not spoken of to any other soul. She’d just confided in Baynton, and she wasn’t certain why.

  “It had been over a card game,” she said. “He lost. I was the debt that had to be paid. We didn’t have money and I was so afraid he would be locked up that I did it. I hated myself, but I did it.”

  Sarah didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. “After that, I abhorred him. Every time he touched me, I cringed. Then I learned I was carrying a child.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly. She hated remembering that moment when her life had irreversibly changed.

  “Roland was not pleased to learn he was to be a father. After all, after that card game, he claimed he was not certain the child was his. I didn’t know, either. We argued. We always argued. We were in Clitheroe, a small village with a stone tower. It had been a lovely afternoon and Roland and I were out for a walk. He suggested we climb the tower’s stairs. On the way down the steps, he pushed me. I didn’t remember what happened but there was a witness. A vicar. I’m certain Roland had acted on impulse or else he would have been more careful about being seen. The fall was bad. I not only lost the baby but I nearly died from the blood loss. The midwife said I could never have children.”

  Sarah took a deep breath and released it, steadying herself. There was so much she wished to forget and couldn’t. “I had always wanted children. I was devastated. I attempted to claim my own life and Roland put me away in an asylum.”

  She closed her eyes a moment and then confessed, “I’ve witnessed horrors. A month after he put me in that place, the midwife who had tended me during my accident came to see a patient at the asylum. She recognized me and knew I should not be there. With her help, I was set free.”

  “What of your husband?”

  “He’d abandoned me in the asylum. Nor was I healthy when I left. I almost died there from lack of care. It took me months to regain my strength. The midwife took me in for that period of time. She told me I was better off without him. Of course, she was right but I struggled with the guilt of what I’d done to my child, to my marriage. Several years later, I received word he was dead.”

  “Good. That saves me from hunting him down and killing him.”

  Sarah looked at Gavin in surprise. She had not expected him to champion her.

  “How long ago was this?” he asked.

  “Fourteen years ago.”

  He was quiet a moment and then said soberly, “Thank you for telling me. You were afraid last night. Now I understand.”

  “Do you? Has anyone ever taken away your trust, your faith in yourself?”

  “And yet you go on.”

  “What else am I to do? I’m not a coward. Not anymore.”

  In response, he slid his thumb into her fisted hand. Instinctively, at last, she opened her fingers and he laced their fingers together. It felt good to hold his hand this way.

  It felt good to have told her story, and to receive compassion.

  The hack pulled up at the hotel. Baynton opened the door, paid the driver and helped Sarah out. They were quiet as they entered the Reception. He retained his hold on her hand.

  There were several people milling about but all was quiet. Still, Sarah felt they all stared as she walked with the duke. If he thought the same, he didn’t say.

  Then again, he was the Duke of Baynton. He was accustomed to people noticing his presence.

  They went upstairs and that is when she remembered the vial. Her stomach twisted into a knot. She now began to question Mr. Talbert’s request.

  If she gave Gavin the draught, he would not be able to have sex with her. Mr. Talbert’s guess that everyone would believe his absence was due to her, would be correct, but for the wrong reasons. Gavin would know the truth. He was wise enough to sense a deception.

  Would he be angry? She would be.

  And what if she forgot the draught? What if she allowed him to make his own decision for his life? What if she did let him have her?

  That thought startled her. She was no longer afraid. Gavin had managed to breach her defenses. This evening had added a new dimension to their relationship. She was beginning to trust.

  The duke nodded to the floor steward who took up his candle and led them to their room. He opened the door with his own key and lit several candles in the room.

  As light warmed the room, Sarah noticed the glasses from earlier had been moved and the decanter of whisky freshened. Perhaps that was the manner in a hotel such as this, but it made her nervous. She couldn’t help but imagine Mr. Talbert watching,
managing.

  Pour the vial in his glass and he’ll not wake until well into tomorrow afternoon. Then we shall have handled the matter with Rovington.

  Those had been Mr. Talbert’s last instructions to her for the day. He hadn’t said who “we” were and she had been so rattled, she hadn’t asked.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she said, startled. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you were staring at the decanters as if something troubled you.”

  Sarah tried to recover gracefully. “I was wondering if you would like something to drink?”

  “Would you?” he countered.

  “I believe I would,” she said and crossed over to the whisky. She wasn’t one for strong spirits, but suddenly needed the courage of them. There was a decision to be made. She would either use the draught and put Baynton to sleep or she would not use it. The choice was hers.

  Sarah realized she could give them both the draught and then they would both sleep, both be victims.

  Removing her shawl and her hat, she managed to take the vial from her pocket without being detected. She poured two glasses. She put a bit of the draught in each. She half expected him to notice her actions but instead, he had walked over to the window . . . because he trusted her.

  Picking up the glasses, she started for him. He turned from the window, faced her, and she could see in his eyes that he still wanted her.

  And from someplace deep within her, a place she had believed dead, she felt the stirring of desire.

  It caught her with such surprise, she almost tripped and dropped the glasses.

  She had lost her fear of being intimate with him. In fact, she believed that Charlene had been a fool to let this man slip away.

  A fool.

  Sarah turned toward the table and set the glasses down. She met Gavin’s eye. “I’ve been asked to give you a sleeping draught,” she said.

  That news surprised him. “By whom?”

  “Mr. Talbert.”

  He shook his head. “Talbert? For what reason?”

  “So that you would not meet Lord Rovington on the dueling field in the morning.”