Charlie waited a few moments, watching Rude Man as he disappeared into the night. When he was out of sight, he pulled her upright and into a tight embrace.
“I’ve missed you.” He rubbed his hand across her back as if it would comfort her. As if it was something she might enjoy.
Sarah pushed away, falling over again into a pile of straw.
“Don’t worry, my love,” he said. “I’m here to take you back to your place. How dare you put on airs. Pretending to be a governess. You cost me my job, you know, putting on a show in front of the master. That’s the second time you’ve humiliated me. I won’t let it happen again.”
She humiliated him? She wanted that gag out of her mouth more than she’d wanted air when Rude Man was smothering her. She had things to tell this rat Charlie Crump, about how she hated him, how he was the worst of all men. How he would burn in hell for all the evil he had done.
She didn’t care what kinds of sorrows filled his past. Charlie would get none of her pity. He may have had as much sadness as the next person, but it was what people did with that sadness that made them good or bad. No amount of tragedy would justify the evil Charlie Crump.
“Mmbph,” she said. It was all she could say.
He brushed her hair from her face, his fingers tracing down her cheek. “You’re mine now. I’ll make sure that no man will ever want you again. You’ll be lucky if even the workhouse will take you in. Then we’ll see who is the humiliated one.”
His hands went from her face to the buttons on the front of her nightshift. “This isn’t exactly what I had planned for our honeymoon, but it will do.”
She tried to roll away, but he pinned her down, using his knees to keep her still. He went back to the buttons. She squirmed and writhed, anything to keep him from succeeding.
Sarah caught a glimpse of movement behind Charlie. It was dark, but in a flash a man appeared. He kicked Charlie with one mighty blow. Charlie fell back into the straw, and she rolled away as far as she could.
Mr. Selwood stood soaking wet. His face was pale, but his jaw was set firm.
Charlie jumped to his feet. “How dare you. I have every right to that woman. We are engaged.”
Mr. Selwood stared at him. Then he stepped between Charlie and where she lay on the floor, unable to stand with her hands and feet bound.
Charlie laughed. He was larger than Mr. Selwood, and he had the muscles of a man who pushed carriages and managed horses. He stepped forward, ready to go around Mr. Selwood and back to Sarah.
“Don’t touch my governess,” Mr. Selwood said. He was a strong man too, and it would be just like Charlie to underestimate him.
“She’s my wife. Or will be soon.”
In a flash, Mr. Selwood’s fist came flying, landing squarely on that hideous Charlie Crump’s chin.
Charlie stumbled backward, spitting blood from his mouth. His eyes turned hard. “I’ll have you know I am the champion boxer of Millthrop for the past five years. You cannot beat me.” He raised his fists.
Mr. Selwood’s face paled even more. Charlie grinned. He didn’t know that Mr. Selwood didn’t care about being hit. His fear was to fight back. To stir up memories of the day with his brother.
But Mr. Selwood only shrugged his shoulders. “You’re probably right. That’s why I brought them.” He jerked his head in the direction of the door.
Two men stood framed in the entry with rain pouring down behind them.
“Constable,” said Mr. Selwood, “this is the man.”
Sarah had not noticed them enter. Neither had Charlie, it seemed. His eyes darted around the barn, but there was no other way out.
One of the men came forward. He had a pair of wrist irons out and ready. His partner raised a hunting rifle, aiming it at Charlie while the constable secured his hands.
Fair play. He’d done worse to her.
The constable stopped and looked down at her, still lying in the straw. “You all right, miss?”
She nodded.
They turned to Mr. Selwood. “We’ll take him in.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Selwood said.
They left, dragging Charlie with them. And suddenly it was over. She was saved. Mr. Selwood had saved her.
He bent over and removed the gag from her mouth. Then the ties from her wrists and ankles. Then he helped her to her feet. Then he backed away.
His face was still white. He’d worked so hard to avoid any sort of violence, anything that would remind him of the day he killed his brother. And then this.
“Mr. Selwood, are you all right?”
He stared at her. “You ask that of me? Miss Woolsey, I can’t even think of what almost happened here. And you ask me if I am all right?” He wiped a hand across his face. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
She rubbed her wrists. “I’m a little sore where I got tied up. And I have a headache. I think that’s from when Mr. Ruddiman tried to smother me. Or maybe from when he hit my head. I cannot be sure. And I’m cold. It was raining and I got wet. I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill me. I thought my life was over. Then it was the vile Charlie Crump and I wished he had killed me. Then you showed up, and, Mr. Selwood—”
He was watching her from a safe distance.
But she’d almost lost everything this night. “I want to hug you,” she whispered.
He said nothing, but it seemed a lifetime of famine passed behind his eyes. Then he stepped closer. And closer still. His arms opened. She couldn’t wait any longer. She ran the last few steps, and his arms closed around her.
He was wet, and his coat smelled of damp wool. It was the best scent she’d ever encountered. Now that she was safe, the nerves that had kept her going drained away. If he had come a moment later, it would have been too late. Her legs turned into mop strings, and she could barely stand.
His embrace tightened around her, and she tucked her head under his chin.
“When Rose came into my room and told me what happened, I thought I would never see you again.”
She leaned back and looked up at him.
He wiped the tears from her eyes. “Sarah Woolsey of Harleigh’s School for Girls. From the moment you prattled on about your lost button while waving my undergarments like a dirty rag I . . . I think I was a lost man. You keep stealing pieces of my heart. One piece here and another piece there, until the whole thing belongs to you.”
Her heart was galloping again, but not from fear of the beastly Charlie Crump nor Rude Man. No indeed. And she would give all her fingers and toes to stay like this forever.
He released her from his grip as if of a sudden he’d come back to his senses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say so much.”
Sarah did not step away. He’d said all the words she’d longed to hear. She was a housemaid and he a gentleman. A future together may never be. But this night, in this moment, she was completely his. If he was willing to show his true feelings, so was she.
She raised herself up on her toes and pressed her lips on his.
He took her in his arms again, swinging her around and backing her up against the wooden slats of the wall. His mouth was on hers, kissing first her upper lip, then her lower. Kissing her like his heart had been thirsty for years and only she could quench it. Kissing her like he loved her.
He stepped away, his face different than she’d ever seen it before. The tightness was gone, the ridges in his brow had smoothed, and in his eyes was a light that had never been there before, not even in his best moments.
She brushed her hand across his cheek. “Mr. Selwood.”
“Sarah,” he answered. “Look at you. You’re freezing.” He shrugged his coat off and draped it over her shoulders.
It occurred to her just then that she was wearing naught but her nightdress. It was damp, and Charlie had left several of the buttons undone. She turned away and quickly refastened them. Then she pushed her arms into the coat.
“Let’s get you home.”
When she’d started as a h
ousemaid, she never considered Banwick House as her home, but now she could not think of anywhere else she’d rather be.
Mr. Selwood lifted her onto his horse, then climbed up behind her. He wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her close. With the other hand he took up the reins and clucked the horse into motion.
A weariness spread out from her bones. Her eyes drooped, and she leaned against him. “You are my hero, Mr. Selwood,” she said, resting her hand on his. The rain had let up, and with his coat around her and her body tucked close to his, she was warm at last.
It didn’t take long to arrive back at Banwick House. A stable boy ran out to meet them. He took the reins while Mr. Selwood dismounted and then lifted Sarah down.
The front door opened. Mrs. Walker was there with Mr. Walker and what seemed like most of the household. It was the middle of the night, and yet here they all were.
“Oh, Sarah!” Mrs. Walker rushed forward. “We were so worried. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m all right. Thanks to Mr. Selwood.” He’d said Rose had woken him up, but she’d thought the child sound asleep when Rude Man had taken her. But then, Rose’s childhood thus far must have been filled with situations where feigning sleep was the only protection she had.
“How did you know where to find me?” Sarah asked Mr. Selwood. Rose had sounded the alarm, but how did he find the hidden shack where she’d been taken?
“I caught Ruddiman coming back with the wagon. It wasn’t too hard to get him to confess.”
Ah. Charlie had never been the cleverest of men. It made sense that his plan to abduct her hadn’t been well thought through.
“Poor thing. You must be worn to pieces,” said Mrs. Walker.
Sarah nodded. She was indeed exhausted. Mrs. Walker stepped forward to help her into the house, but before she could, Mr. Selwood put his arm around her. Not in a friendly way that said, You must be tired, let me help you. But in a way that announced to the entire staff that he had fallen for the governess.
She wished the clouds back to conceal her face, but Mr. Selwood didn’t seem to care. Perhaps it was better to make it known right from the start. And at least she knew now that he meant what he’d said. That she was his.
They gaped at her. The whites of their eyes stood out in the moonlight that now filtered through the clearing sky. Then, as if to erase any doubt, should there be any, he kissed the top of her head.
“Mr. Selwood,” she whispered. “Everyone is watching.”
“I hope so.” His arm tightened around her.
Inside, sitting on the lowest step of the grand staircase, was Rose.
Mrs. Walker cleared her throat. “She wouldn’t go to bed without you. I finally told her she could wait if she stayed right there.”
Rose jumped up and leaped into Sarah’s arms. “Always come back,” she said.
“Yes,” Sarah said. “I will always come back.”
Chapter Thirteen
Arthur Selwood lifted the covers of the bed and climbed in beside Sarah. She rolled closer to him and tucked herself into his arms.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Why don’t we invite the widow Lynn and her daughter to dinner next week?”
“Why would we do that?” he asked.
“Well, they are our neighbors, and we should be amiable. We don’t know all the things that have happened in their lives, and maybe they will turn out all right if we give them a chance. Mrs. Lynn’s husband is gone, and she must get lonely home alone with Miss Lynn all day. I know as well as anyone they will probably decline, but I think we should try. I’m sure Miss Lynn will never forgive you for marrying a housemaid. But we cannot treat them unfairly when we don’t know what story their past lives might hold. Maybe they just need friends.”
“Sarah,” he said, “what were you when we married?”
“Hmm?”
“What was your job when we married?”
“Governess.” He was still on about that.
“And before that you were the housemaid, yes?”
“Yes.” What any of this had to do with the Lynns was beyond Sarah.
“Let’s keep going back. What were you before a housemaid?”
“A dairy maid.” That’s where she’d met the deplorable Charlie Crump.
“Keep going.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
“A carder. Then a student at Harleigh’s School for Girls. And before then I was an orphan.” None of these were anything to be proud of save her time at Harleigh’s School for Girls.
“And what were you before you were an orphan?”
“I was the daughter of a wool merchant.”
“There,” he said. “I married the daughter of a successful merchant. There is nothing wrong with that, is there?”
That did sound much better than housemaid or even governess. But not a soul on earth would think of her as such. Anyone who knew her as her father’s daughter had probably long forgotten her by now.
“I would be happy to extend an invitation to the Lynns to come to dinner and meet my new bride, the daughter of a wool merchant.” He kissed her then, nice and slowly, until a little body climbed up onto the bed and wiggled herself in between them.
“Is something wrong, Rose?” she asked.
“I want my governess,” she said.
He tickled Rose until she laughed, something still rare for the child. Then he rolled her over Sarah so that she was no longer between them.
“How dare you,” he said to Rose. “Sarah is my governess.”
Julie Daines was born in Concord, Massachusetts, and was raised in Utah. She spent eighteen months living in London, where she studied and fell in love with English literature, sticky toffee pudding, and the mysterious guy who ran the kebab store around the corner.
She loves reading, writing, and watching movies—anything that transports her to another world. She picks Captain Wentworth over Mr. Darcy, firmly believes in second breakfast, and never leaves home without her verveine.
Visit Julie here:
Website: JulieDaines.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/julie.daines.7
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