Sam couldn’t resist. She was so damn alluring with her sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks and deliciously pursed lips. He leaned forward slowly, his eyes locked on hers, giving her the chance to draw back, but when she didn’t, he touched his lips to hers, softly at first, just noting their silken texture, feeling her short puffs of breath against his cheek. Then he began to kiss her in earnest, molding their mouths together, tracing the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue.
After the briefest hesitation, she responded, parting her lips and matching the erotic play with her tongue.
He slid closer to her on the bench and cradled her face in one hand while his other slid around her back to hold her close to him.
Seconds passed…minutes, while he tasted the whiskey on her breath and discovered the underlying sweetness that was entirely her. He felt her hand come up to rest against his cheek and while it was the most tender of gestures, Sam’s body reacted to it intensely. He deepened the kiss, his hand sliding from her cheek to cup the base of her head, holding it as if it were a fragile robin’s egg.
A raucous chorus of laughter across the room brought both of them to their senses and they sprang apart at the same time. Sarah—there was no way he could think of her as Miss Draper now—covered her face in her hands and Sam craned his neck to see what the ruckus was about, briefly standing to see over the heads of the pub’s patrons.
“It’s ok,” he said, turning back to her and gently pulling her hand from her face. “No one saw us.”
“Then what were they— “
“Someone appears to have brought a chicken into the bar and they’re feeding it ale.”
“That’s terrible!” she said with a frown, half rising as if she was going to go insist they stop. His hand on her arm stayed her.
“I quite agree. Everyone knows poultry prefer gin.”
Her mouth twitched in a suppressed smile and she resumed her seat. He debated trying to kiss her again, but she was sitting stiffly, her hands clasped in her lap. She started to speak several times before she finally said, “I think it’s time I went home.”
“Of course,” he said, quickly standing and offering his hand.
Once outside in the dusk, Sam offered her his arm. She pretended not to see it and he pretended not to notice her pretending. Even still, they walked in companionable silence back to her apartment.
“Oh!” She exclaimed as they drew closer. “Eleanor hasn’t left yet. Perhaps she can give you a ride back into the city.” She increased her pace and he lengthened his stride to keep up. They reached the apartment building and the carriage just as Lady Eleanor was coming out.
“Oh, Sarah!” Lady Eleanor exclaimed. “I’m so glad you returned before I had to leave. Mrs. Sampson shows no signs of being ready to—er,” she glanced at Sam and he lifted his eyebrows, wondering what embarrassing thing Mrs. Sampson was not prepared to do.
“No sign of being ready,” Lady Eleanor amended and Sam guessed that the woman in question was pregnant. “Will you check on her for me tomorrow? I’ll be back the day after, but the poor dear’s feet and hands and face are so swollen, I’m worried about her.”
Sarah frowned and Sam had the feeling that she was suddenly uncomfortable.
“I will have Dr. Kendall look in on her.”
“Oh no! Don’t trouble him. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll just feel better if I know you’ve stopped in.”
“Very well,” Sarah acquiesced. “Oh, forgive me. Allow me to introduce Mr. Samuel James. Mr. James, this is Lady Eleanor Chalcroft.”
“My lady,” he said, bowing formally over her hand. “I believe best wishes are in order. I was at the party the night your betrothal was announced.”
Lady Eleanor laughed, a bright, happy sound that brought a smile to Sarah’s face as well.
“Yes, that was quite an evening. And your sister’s wedding was beautiful. My betrothed and I were guests of his father who is related to your sister’s husband’s family. The connection is utterly convoluted! Forgive me for not offering my felicitations directly that day.”
“Oh I had nothing to do with it, save paying the bill,” he said. “Oh, I forgot, I’m not supposed to mention money in England, am I?”
He grinned at Sarah and she rolled her eyes, but Lady Eleanor responded, “In polite company, no, but Sarah and I have pinched pennies so many years here, it’s quite normal for us.”
“Eleanor, do you mind giving Mr. James a ride to his—I’m sorry,” she said, turning to him. “I don’t know where you’re staying.”
“The Cavendish Hotel.”
“Of course,” Lady Eleanor replied happily.
Sam paused before accepting. “Again, even though I’m American, my sister drilled into my head that unmarried ladies shouldn’t—“
“Oh, yes, yes,” Eleanor said, waving away his concerns. “Again, two years of living in Southwark has stripped me of my concern for many of society’s rules. But fear not, Mr. James. Your reputation shall remain unblemished. As you see, my carriage is unmarked and my coachman shan’t say a word. Will you Charlie?” she called over to the man holding the carriage door open.
“I try to forget everything about these trips, my lady,” he said, his expression deadpan.
“You see? We shall drop you at your hotel and no one shall be the wiser. Shall we be off?”
“I thank you, my lady,” Sam replied with a bow.
Lady Eleanor hugged her cousin tightly and then climbed up into the carriage.
Sam turned to Sarah, suddenly unsure of what to say. How could he arrange to meet her again?
“Shall we meet at the bank to arrange the transfer of my donation?”
Sarah licked her lips—an action that caused every muscle of his body to tighten with desire. He could still taste her on his lips and wished for nothing more than to kiss her again.
“May I send word on when I’ll be in the city again? I’ve much to attend to here over the next few days. Oh! Unless you are departing before then?”
“I’ve no immediate plans to leave,” he lied, for he did have a ticket booked. Suddenly, returning to Philadelphia did not feel so urgent.
“Very well,” she said, her voice softening so that it lacked the firm, no-nonsense tone it normally held. She stuck out her hand tentatively. He took it, but instead of merely bowing over it, brought it to his mouth and kissed the back of it, letting his breath blow hotly over the bare skin at her wrist it for a mere second.
When he straightened, she clutched her hand to her breast as if it had been burned.
“Good evening, Miss Draper.”
Chapter Five
Sarah woke with the sun the next morning feeling bright and refreshed, which was surprising considering her dreams had been full of struggles and fights and…sensuous embraces.
She washed her face with cold water, hoping it would cool the heat in her cheeks as she remembered how Mr. James had kissed her last night. And how she had returned it in full measure. She could still feel the faint rasp of his stubble on her upper lip, fancied she could smell the delicious healthy maleness of him, overlaid with the faintest hint of sandalwood shaving soap. Her hand curled, mimicking the shape of his face as she’d held it close to hers. Her tongue darted out to trace her lips as he had.
“I must be mad,” she whispered aloud. It was only a kiss, no doubt brought on by two dangerous encounters and no small amount of alcohol.
Resolutely pushing thoughts of the kiss from her mind, she quickly dressed and arranged her hair in a simple plaited bun low on her neck. She gathered her basket with its collection of herbs and medicines and headed out to make several home visits before reaching the soup kitchen mid-morning.
Busy as she was, however, she found herself staring into space throughout the day, remembering the feel of his arm beneath her hand as they walked, or the handy way he had dispatched their would-be thief. And though she admonished herself every time it happened, she could not seem to prevent her brain from conjuring
images of their kiss. What’s worse, she found herself daydreaming about further kisses, longer embraces, and thoughts of other activities she had no business entertaining.
It was only when she burned an entire batch of rolls due to her distraction that she finally erupted in self-anger.
“Drat! Curse it to blazes!” She dropped the still-smoking rolls with their blackened bottoms on the battered worktable in the center of the kitchen.
Behind her, Ida laughed. “Why, it must be somethin’ terrible wrong to make you say ‘drat,’ Miss Sarah.”
Sarah felt the other woman peer over her shoulder.
“Eh, it’s only a bit o’ burned bread. I’ll have the boys scrape the burnt off and we’ll serve it for supper none the wiser.”
Sarah smiled at Ida. “I’m just feeling a bit out of sorts today. I think I’ll step outside for a bit of fresh air.”
At this, Ida laughed louder. “Aye, well, let me know if you find any o’ that in Southwark. I’ll bottle it up and sell it, I will.”
Sarah smiled again. “Yes, well, perhaps just a change of scenery.”
“You do look peaked, miss. Take as much time as ye need—we’ve everything under control here.”
In the narrow courtyard behind the kitchen, Sarah found a seat on a wooden crate and stared at the overcast sky. What she wouldn’t give at this moment for a glimpse of Buckinghamshire blue sky, dotted with puffy white clouds, the smell of fresh-mown hay filling her nostrils instead of the rot of a rundown slum. She wondered what Mr. James would think of her home in Aylesbury Vale, and if Philadelphia routinely had blue skies or if it was usually gray.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she said aloud and realized she’d developed quite the propensity for talking to herself. Still, she could not afford to have her mind go wandering every five minutes. She knew what she must do to banish such fanciful thoughts. Closing her eyes, she carefully pulled out her last memory of Peter Greene after he had come home from India.
Their rendezvous beneath willow trees and beside hidden streams had been like lush stories from another land. So completely isolated were they in their hidden enclaves, it was as if they were the only two people in the world. At first, it was all they could do to wait until they’d reached their destination to pull each other’s clothes off. They explored each other’s bodies with wonder and delight, learning what brought the other pleasure.
After a few weeks, they began to enjoy more than just the initial passionate joining. They would take turns packing picnics or sneaking bottles of wine to share as they lay on an old quilt and watched the sun filter through the leaves overhead.
Sarah stood from her rickety seat on the crate. This was not the memory she had been seeking to quell her fanciful heart. It was the last one—that rain soaked Thursday in October.
“I can’t marry you, Sarah. I can’t. And even if I could, my father would never allow it. He hopes to marry me off to a woman with a title. Someone who will aid his social climbing aspirations.” She remembered the crisp, distinct snap as her heart broke, the crushing weight on her chest, the months of anguish that followed.
Ahh, thought Sarah. There it is. There’s the coldness I was looking for.
Like a late freeze after the spring flowers had bloomed, Sarah felt the distracting visions of Samuel James crystallize and harden. The flush that had warmed her cheeks all morning faded and though her hands shook, she knew she would think of nothing else this day but the work at hand.
Her prediction proved to be accurate as she finished up at the kitchen, then spent hours delivering clothing and food to various families. She checked on those patients Dr. Kendall couldn’t get to, including the very pregnant Mrs. Sampson, whom Eleanor had asked her to watch over.
But when she arrived home at nearly nine o’clock, foot sore and exhausted, her single-minded focus was shattered by a note from Eleanor, whose neat but cramped and punctuation-less missive instructed Sarah that she must attend a party with Eleanor the following night and that Eleanor herself would be in Southwark tomorrow to pick Sarah up.
Sarah wondered if Mr. James would be at the party and instantly dismissed the notion. The brash American did not move in the same circles as Eleanor, and besides, he was no doubt preparing to return to America any day now.
“I’ve borrowed another gown from Juliette for you,” Eleanor said the next day as she bustled Sarah into the carriage. Juliette was one of Eleanor’s closest friends and had loaned Sarah the blue satin gown on the night of Eleanor’s betrothal.
“Why is it so imperative I attend the party?” Sarah asked once they were underway. “My presence has not been requested at an event in the five years I’ve run the aid society. Now I need attend two in as many weeks?”
“I need you there for moral support,” Eleanor said blithely, taking an interest in the passing buildings. “I’m still not entirely comfortable being back in society, if you must know and you’re such a calming influence on me.”
Sarah studied the back of her cousin’s head skeptically. “Oh, really?”
“Mmm hmm,” Eleanor replied. “Also it will be good to have you visible as a face for our organization. So people are more inclined to donate, you see.”
This gave Sarah pause as it did sound plausible, though Eleanor was certainly the best person to serve as the “face” of their charity. Still, something didn’t quite ring true.
“Is that all, Eleanor?” she pressed.
Eleanor busied herself by digging in her reticule, ostensibly looking for something, though the tiny bag could hardly contain more than a handful of coins.
“Hmm? Oh, well, you might run into some interesting people as well. Say, perhaps, Mr. James?”
“What?” Sarah screeched. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. She did not screech. “Why on earth would you think I wish to see him?” she asked in a carefully modulated voice.
At that, Eleanor finally looked at her, a mischievous smile on her face. “Really Sarah, how can you ask that. The sparks were practically shooting off the two of you yesterday. I know all too well the look of two people who are smitten with one another. If you two didn’t kiss yesterday, you came very close.”
Sarah blinked rapidly. Eleanor had difficulty reading the written word, but her skill at reading people was unparalleled. Still, she felt it necessary to protest.
“What are you talking about? What would give you such an absurd notion?”
Eleanor returned her question with an expression of utter disbelief. “Do you deny it?”
It was Sarah’s turn to look out the window, affecting an interest in the passing scenery. “No,” she finally said.
“Aha!” Eleanor exclaimed in a most unladylike shout. “I knew it! Which was it? A kiss or a near kiss?”
“A kiss,” Sarah answered shortly.
“Oh how delicious! It was wonderful, wasn’t it? I could tell by the stars in your eyes it was wonderful.”
“I didn’t have—how could you possibly—“
Eleanor laughed her musical laugh and Sarah couldn’t help but smile in return.
Her cousin sobered and said, “I hope he proves to be as wonderful as that first kiss.”
“Why? Nothing will come of that, Eleanor,” Sara insisted. “It was a chance occurrence spurred by our being in two dangerous situations back to back. Furthermore—“
“Ah, we’re here,” Eleanor interrupted and hopped out of the carriage as soon as the footman opened the door. Sarah was left to sputter at an empty coach until the footman reached in to help her down.
Once inside, there was no further opportunity for private discussion with Eleanor as she was set upon by her cousin’s lady’s maid. Three hours later, fed, bathed, groomed, and primped, Sarah found herself downstairs in a receiving line welcoming guests to the Chalcroft home.
“You didn’t tell me your parents were hosting the party,” Sarah hissed out of the side of her mouth.
“I didn’t?” Eleanor said blithely. “Well, you know
I’m a terrible correspondent. I’m simply happy you understood there to be a party this evening. Ah, Lord Reading!” How lovely to see you this evening,” Eleanor cooed to her betrothed.
Sarah watched with a smile as the two gazed at one another as if they were the only two people in the room. She felt her cheeks warm as their gaze continued over the proper clasp of their gloved hands—it seemed incredibly intimate to watch two people so in love, lost in each other’s eyes. At long last, Lord Reading moved on, pausing to bow over Sarah’s hand even while his gaze strayed back to Eleanor.
“Do you think anyone noticed?” Eleanor whispered in her ear.
Sarah smothered a laugh. “Only anyone with at least one eye. Don’t worry,” she reassured when Eleanor bit her lower lip. “It’s also obvious you two are a splendid match.”
“We are, aren’t we?” Eleanor said with a happy sigh. “Oh, I can’t bear it any longer. I’m going to find him. Be a dear and keep mother company, will you?”
“Eleanor!” Sarah exclaimed. “You can’t leave me on my—“ but her cousin was already across the room, linking her hand through Reading’s arm and smiling brilliant up at him.
“Damn, she whispered under her breath.
She was startled by a familiar American accent behind her. “Why Miss Draper, you do show up in the most unusual places. Are you slumming tonight?”
She turned to see Samuel James, his golden blond hair decidedly not pomaded into place. It looked as though he’d ridden here without a hat as it was slightly rumpled. Or as if he’d run his hands through it. Or as if she had—she shook her head slightly and surveyed the rest of him. His jacket, though perfectly tailored and no doubt of the latest fashion (though truly, after five years of living in the same two dresses, Sarah had no idea what constituted current fashion), just did not fit him like an Englishman’s jacket did. His shoulders seemed too broad, the swing of the coat too…casual, as if he were relaxing at home in a smoking jacket instead of dressed formally for a society event. Amazed at the fanciful turn of her thoughts, Sarah struggled to remember what he’d said.
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