A Date at the Altar

by Cathy Maxwell

For the briefest, most glorious second, Sarah’s heart leaped at those words, until she realized he didn’t mean her. He was not upset because he was going to marry her. She was the mistress. An actress. Not the sort of woman a good man married.

  She knew that. The world knew it. She had no right to feel hurt. Or deceived.

  This moment was bound to come sometime. She just had assumed it wouldn’t be so soon, that they would have more time together.

  Or that perhaps it wouldn’t come at all. She’d fooled herself into believing it would not matter.

  But it did.

  “Yes, of course,” she murmured, surprised she could speak at all past the tightness in her throat.

  “There are expectations,” he said as if trying to explain what he couldn’t accept. “I need an heir.”

  Those words were like tiny arrows to her heart. An heir, children . . . if he had asked for her soul, she would offer it up. But children were different. She would never be able to give him a child.

  She found it hard to breathe, to think.

  “I need to go to bed,” she managed, anxious to leave the room before she betrayed herself. She stood, but then she had to ask, “Have you found someone?”

  “I haven’t been looking, if that is what you are asking. I’ve been here with you.”

  “And yet?”

  “There is a suitable young woman. Her family is amenable to a match . . .” His voice drifted off, and then he sat forward. “Sarah, I don’t want another.”

  Neither did she.

  “When will you talk to her family?” she asked.

  Gavin shifted in his chair, the set of his mouth grim. “Her father approached me today. He let me know he was pleased and told me he’d given the union his blessing. He did so in front of a number of witnesses. I was caught off guard.”

  “Have you even asked for her hand yet?”

  He met her eye then and said, “My mother and aunt have made overtures. I called on the girl, back before we were who we are.” There was a beat of silence and then he asked, “What of us, Sarah? I want us.”

  She had wanted “us,” too, and now realized she had a decision to make. A painful one.

  Sarah backed away, and yet she did not go far. She stopped at the edge of the circle of light. She had vowed that she would not end up like her mother. She’d tried marriage, and that had been a disaster. She’d attempted to be her own person, to make her own way . . . and she might have succeeded but she hadn’t been doing well when she’d met Gavin.

  So, she’d compromised herself. For love, she had bartered her principles.

  And now he asked for her to continue on this way. Well, what had she expected? There was always going to be one ending and it would not be a happy one whichever way she chose.

  However, she had not anticipated the temptation to be with him would be so strong. Or realize the cost . . .

  He stood. “Sarah? Speak to me.”

  “And say what?”

  “I need to know what you are thinking.”

  “I’m thinking that I’ve created this lovely little play in my head where everything was going to end well, but I see now that it won’t.”

  “You know I care for you—” he started but she cut him off.

  “Do you? Will you also care for her? The woman you will call wife? And what of your children? Don’t they deserve your complete attention? You must understand, Gavin, I was married. I’ve been the wife of a faithless husband—”

  “Wait,” he said. “You cannot compare the marriage you had with my arrangement with Leonie Charnock. We barely know each other. She is an heiress, comes from a good family and—” He paused as if not knowing what else to say, so Sarah helped him.

  “And is a good breeder. Because she is young, healthy.” Dear Lord, as the truth of their conversation was sinking in, she felt as if her heart was being ripped in two. “Why does it hurt to speak those words? In fact, the pain is so great, I want to double over, and yet I can’t. I’m caught in a web of my own making. I knew better than to let down my guard. I knew.”

  “Sarah,” he started again, taking a step toward her, but she placed her palm flat against his chest.

  “I’m in love with you, Baynton. I love you. And instead of the joy those words should bring, I’m crushed because how can I be so untrue to myself?”

  She would have run then, but he caught her before she could flee. She tried to push away. He held her fast, ignoring her struggles.

  “Sarah, listen to me. I love you, too.”

  She shook her head. He mustn’t. He couldn’t. If she believed him, she would be trapped forever.

  “If it could be another way, I would do it,” he vowed.

  She did not want to hear this.

  “I love you,” he repeated. “Can you not understand? I love you. I can’t live without you.”

  Hours ago, if someone had told her that he would be saying these words to her, she would have considered herself the most fortunate woman in the world. Now, they struck her with fear.

  How could she leave?

  How could she stay?

  Placing both hands on his shoulders, she pushed, and he let go. She stumbled back. For a wild second, she looked around her at the house she had started to think of as her haven, and realized he had been what had made her feel safe. All of this was a shell without him.

  He approached again. His arms came around her and this time, she did not fight. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. “You,” he repeated. “Whatever happens in my other life, you are the one I value. The one I cherish.”

  His other life.

  She realized her own foolishness in believing she was his only life. Eventually, others—perhaps not his wife, but certainly his children—would take her place in his heart. The mistress was always expendable. Every fool knew that.

  At last, she understood her mother.

  Never before had Sarah felt so fragile in Gavin’s arms.

  She accepted his kisses but made no move to return them. Her response alarmed him. This was not the Sarah he knew. She was giving up on him, on them.

  He needed her to believe that he would always be there for her. Then she would stay with him.

  Slowly, he became more purposeful in his kisses. He knew what she liked. In spite of herself, he felt her respond and he could have sighed his relief. Instead, he swung her up into his arms and carried her to their bedroom.

  She held on to him, her arms around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder.

  In the darkness, they undressed as they had countless times before. Sarah was kissing him now with a fervent passion, as if she, too, did not want to let him go.

  He laid her on the bed. Their bed. He could not imagine her not being here. He lived for the moments he was with her like this.

  Her body opened to him. Gratefully, he slid into her. Nothing felt better in his arms than his Sarah. His lovely, vibrant Sarah.

  Gavin began moving, wanting this to be good for her, reassuring her in the most intimate of ways of the depth of his love for her. Whatever he could do to honor her, he would. It was that simple. She held his heart—

  He tasted her tears upon her cheek.

  She’d been giving, but also quiet, and now he understood why.

  However, God help him, he could not stop. Not now.

  Gavin drove both of them then. He was demanding and hard. She must trust him. He would do all he could for her. She needed to have faith in him . . . and yet, he, too, knew this would not work.

  Some women flaunted their independence. They didn’t need the solace of husbands or lovers. Sarah was not one of them.

  In turn, there were men who easily separated the threads of their lives. They had no difficulty giving pieces of themselves to many others and appeared at peace with the matter.

  Gavin was not that sort. Nor should Sarah accept a lesser place in his life.

  He recognized the fact as he felt her release and carried her wi
th him on his own. This was no mere act of animal mating. It never had been for the two of them. When Gavin held her, when he was this connected to her, it was as if their souls merged. They were one.

  In this moment of complete fulfillment, he understood her almost better than he did himself.

  For long moments, they held each other.

  And then she said, “I shall shut down the play.”

  “No, it opens tomorrow evening. You can’t stop now. Your play is important.”

  She was quiet, and then whispered, “No, Gavin, nothing is important now.”

  “Trust me, Sarah.” It was his last plea.

  She turned to him then. “I can’t be that other woman, Gavin. I know what that life is like and I won’t live it.”

  He sat up abruptly, ran a hand through his hair. His heart was a heavy stone in his chest. He knew she had made up her mind.

  She didn’t say a word as he dressed.

  He stood at the foot of the bed, waiting for her to call him back, and knowing she wouldn’t. The mattress they shared now appeared cold and empty save for her glorious hair spread across the pillow.

  “You will open the play,” he said. “It is your future, Sarah. You must take the chance.”

  On those words, he left.

  As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard the sound of her crying. His strong, resilient Sarah. She was broken.

  And yet, she would survive. They both would. They had no choice.

  He left the house as if the hounds of hell were after him, and perhaps they were.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gavin did not go home to Menheim. Instead, he walked. There was an hour or so before dawn but time had ceased to matter. He didn’t even care where he traveled.

  Eventually, he found himself in front of his club. He went inside, nodded to the steward, and made his way to the dining room. He had some idea to break his fast. He wasn’t hungry but he knew he must go through the motions.

  Today would be a long day. There were his usual duties, and then, of course, he would attend Sarah’s play. He’d purchased the most expensive box in the theater. She’d wanted to give it to him for free, but he’d insisted on paying.

  She might have protested further; however, her friend Lady Baldwin, herself a former actress, was managing the seat tickets. She’d been happy to accept Gavin’s money.

  Now, he didn’t know how he was going to live through the evening. He’d been seated close to the stage. He’d be able to see her every gesture and know that she was leaving him.

  He would do it for Sarah. Their liaison was so well known, his not being there would be noticed. Her play should not suffer because of their personal relationship.

  Gavin sat at his usual table by the window. A waiter approached but he waved him away. He wasn’t ready to interact with anyone yet and it was too early in the morning for a whisky. God, what he would give to climb in the bottle and never come out—

  “Good morning, Your Grace,” the familiar voice of Fyclan Morris said. “May I join you since it seems the two of us are the only ones up at this hour?”

  “Yes,” Gavin answered, not particularly welcoming.

  If Morris heard the curtness in his voice, he gave no indication but pulled out a chair, resting the cane he used against the wall. “Stout,” he said, giving his order to the waiter. “And one for His Grace as well.” The waiter bowed and left.

  Fyclan gave Gavin an assessing look. Gavin knew he did not look his best and why should he?

  “You are not usually in here this early,” Fyclan said, his soft Irish brogue coloring his words. “And you have the look of a man who has lost his moorings.”

  Gavin didn’t answer. He had nothing to say.

  Morris continued as if they were involved in a spirited conversation. “I’m always up early. First light. I don’t like dining at home. Too lonely now without Jenny.”

  Gavin’s life would be “too lonely” now without Sarah.

  The waiter returned with their drinks. Morris took a healthy sip of his and said, “Good news about Ben and Elin, isn’t it? Twins!”

  That statement pulled Gavin out of his dark thoughts. “What?”

  “You have not heard? Elin and Ben told me yesterday. Your brother had said he was going to search you out. I hope I haven’t upset their plans by tipping the teapot. When they tell you, please act as if you are hearing the news for the first time.”

  “I will, I will, but now that it is out, tell me all.”

  “There is not much to say. The midwife told them she is certain Elin is having twins. She believes she can feel the movement of two wee bodies inside Elin when she places her hands on her. It is a bit of a surprise because I didn’t believe Elin was showing that much. However, with the fashions the way they are, how can anyone tell if a woman is carrying or not? I know she has found moving difficult. However, the midwife cautions we could be surprised with only one, but she claims she is rarely wrong.”

  Gavin sat back, a bit stunned. Twins, well, it was possible. They ran in the family. He was a twin.

  He also felt more than a touch of envy.

  “Here is to healthy babies,” Morris said, raising his glass in salute.

  Gavin joined him.

  Morris set down his tankard. “I understand from your mother that we shall be wishing you happy relatively soon. She said you are making a match with the Charnock heiress.” He nodded to the waiter that he was ready to order his breakfast.

  No, not happy. And the realization that he and Leonie Charnock were becoming common gossip made Gavin unhappier. His chest grew tight as if steel bands wrapped around him, making it difficult to breathe.

  As if from a distance, he heard Morris ask, “Will you have the beefsteak as well?”

  Gavin frowned at him, momentarily confused, then nodded when he realized they were ordering food. The waiter left.

  Morris leaned forward. “Are you feeling quite well?”

  No, nothing in his life would ever be “well” again. “I’m fine.”

  The man across from him nodded but the look in his eye said he didn’t believe Gavin—and suddenly Gavin needed to bolt. He wanted air and to be away from Morris’s keen sensibilities. The man was known for his careful observation.

  Gavin pushed back on his chair, but Morris leaned forward. “Wait. Give me a moment of your time.”

  “I don’t know that I have a moment,” Gavin replied brusquely. After all, he was a busy man. Few questioned him.

  Morris was not of that number. “What is the matter with you? Are you ill?”

  Gavin almost nodded his head yes and yet it was not in his nature to lie. “I have matters on my mind.”

  “You don’t want to marry Miss Charnock?”

  Warily, Gavin asked, “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, you were grim when I first sat with you but you turned positively white when I mentioned her.”

  “She is an admirable young woman.”

  “I’m certain she is, but we aren’t talking about her.”

  A party of four gentlemen took a table not far from theirs and there were other club members coming in the door. Gavin settled back in his chair. He knew most of those men. If he walked across the room, they would expect his attention or be offended. He was better with Morris.

  “I accept the marriage,” Gavin said. There, that should be it.

  However, to his surprise, it wasn’t.

  Morris had given him careful scrutiny and Gavin was becoming aware he didn’t look his best. His appearance was exactly that of a man who’d had little sleep and had spent a good portion of the night wandering in an attempt to quiet his thoughts.

  “Tell me about it,” Morris said quietly.

  “About Miss Charnock?” Gavin answered, denying what his friend was asking.

  “Don’t treat me like an old fool. I respect you, Baynton. I pray you respect me as well.”

  “There is not much to say,” Gavin demurred.

 
; “You are in love.”

  The direct and very accurate response blasted through Gavin’s defenses.

  He looked to Morris, tempted to deny the statement. After all, men in love were weak . . . and he would be seen as the weakest of all—a man in love with his mistress.

  And yet, God help him, he was.

  “She won’t stay with me,” Gavin confessed and with those words, the tightness in him seemed to spring open.

  He plunged ahead, the words tumbling out of him in mad confession. “I all but forced her to become my mistress. I had to have her, you see. From the moment I saw her back when I was courting Lady Charlene, I noticed her. Me, who was always too busy to think about women. I didn’t have the time.”

  “I understand. You and I have much in common. I remember those days when I was building my fortune and my career. It takes great energy.”

  “I have no energy for anything right now,” Gavin admitted. “I told her last night that I was going to offer for Leonie Charnock. I explained that I needed an heir, that my marriage would be nothing more than a business arrangement.” He met Morris’s eye. “I love Sarah. I can’t imagine my life without her. I’m a fool, aren’t I?”

  “Why? Because you are in love?” Morris leaned back in his chair. “That is the state man was born to be in. Until I experienced it with Jenny, I, like you, thought it made me appear weak. Now I know, I was strongest with her. I had no life before her. It was all work and selfish thoughts. I believed money made me rich. She taught me what riches truly are.”

  “And that was?”

  “Having her in my arms. Hearing her laugh. Seeing her smile, or even cry. She made me feel like I mattered.”

  Gavin fell back in his chair. “With Sarah, I am myself.”

  “It is a gift.”

  “Will I not find that with Miss Charnock?”

  Morris shrugged. “You tell me.” He smiled at the server who delivered their food. The plates were set before them. Morris waited until they were alone again to say, “Eat. Food will help.”

  “I have no appetite. I’ve lost her, Fyclan. Sarah is a proud woman. I feel as if I have betrayed her. I have.”

  “Then don’t marry the Charnock heiress.”