Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Reed was eager to get soused in some sort of liquor.
He did not care what kind, only that it dulled his senses enough to ease the misery pulsing through him with every beat of his heart.
The ride back from Harville’s estate with the borrowed gelding had been fraught with a mixture of resentment and frustration.
He wasn’t certain he was angry at Sariah anymore.
He was more furious with himself for daring to believe in an illusion that would never be reality.
He would forever rue the day he’d ever gone to that blasted Pond, because it was the day he fell in love with a treacherous woman. He had never met anyone capable of such deceit. He wished he’d never had the misfortune to set eyes on her.
At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself. In reality, his heart was bleeding and he wasn’t sure he would be able to survive without her in his life.
To get his mind off of his own despondency, he decided to go by the shipping office and talk to Jackson. He wasn’t in the mood for advice, but doing something productive to soothe his bruised pride would go far in his recovery efforts to put Miss Sariah Kent out of his mind.
He reached the docks and once there, he dismounted and tied up his borrowed mount.
He was heading for the front door when it opened from the opposite side.
At first, Reed was too caught up in his own despair to fully acknowledge who was there, but when it registered that it was the baron—the very man he’d been hoping to speak with that morning—he felt as though he’d been punched in the solar plexus.
The air escaped his lungs, unable to shake the irony that he would encounter Lord Foxworth now, when his hopes had been dashed.
The baron’s eyes widened in surprise when his focus caught Reed’s gaze. “Mr. Carrington. I did not know you were returning to London this morning. I would have offered you a ride in my carriage.”
Reed wanted to scoff at the pleasant demeanor.
Instead, he forced himself to remain levelheaded.
This man was still a business partner who had treated him with nothing but respect.
He did not deserve his ire. “It was not planned, my lord. I fear certain… circumstances encouraged my arrival.” He punctuated his remark with a tight smile, thinking that the baron would pick up on the subtle hint.
Instead, the man just inclined his head. “I understand completely. I received word from my solicitor that my uncle had passed on last evening. While I was here, I decided to come by and speak with Mr. Marks to let him know that Lord Harville has decided to back a future project.”
This was welcome news to Reed, who was in desperate need of something positive. “I am glad to hear it. Although allow me to also express my sincere condolences for the loss of your uncle.”
“Thank you. That is kind of you. It was unexpected,” the baron murmured. “He was a good man and will be missed.”
There was a pause and Reed thought it was a good idea to take his leave before it became awkward. “I shall bid you good day—”
“Mr. Carrington, before you go, I would ask one thing of you.”
Reed paused, waiting patiently.
“This business with my uncle has me thinking about my own family.” He exhaled heavily, as if a weight was being pressed upon his chest. “I want nothing but the happiness of my wife and children. If it is not too presumptuous of me to say, I feel that the current understanding between you and Sariah has turned into more of a mutual affection?”
“Indeed.” Reed felt it was safe to say that word, as it was noncommittal either way.
The baron cleared his throat. “In that regard, I was wondering if perhaps the current arrangement might become something more permanent?”
Reed blinked. And then blinked again. He wanted to laugh, and likely would have if this man wasn’t just notified of a recent death.
“Forgive me, my lord, but there is no need for any pretense any longer. I heard Lord Michael this morning and I know he already offered for Miss Kent. Ironically enough, I was going to approach you with the same behest, but you had already departed for London.” He clenched his jaw.
“Of course, I understand that a man of noble breeding is preferred to my questionable background and—”
The baron held up a hand. “I apologize in advance if I hear you incorrectly, Mr. Carrington, but if you are asking if Lord Michael and Sariah are betrothed, I can assure you I am aware of no such union.”
For the first time since he’d left the Harville estate, a sense of unease crawled up the back of Reed’s nape. “Are you certain?”
“Quite.” The baron chuckled. “I should think I would recall such a meeting taking place.”
Reed could feel the blood draining from his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am a bloody idiot,” he muttered.
“Pardon?”
Reed set his hands on his hips and wondered how he might ever dig his way out of the hole he’d put himself in. “I left the Harville estate this morning under the misconception that Sariah had accepted Lord Michael.”
“Oh. I see.”
The baron seemed entirely too calm, but perhaps that was because Reed had finally begun to realize the mess he had made of things.
He thought of the cold things he’d said to Sariah, and he winced.
She might never forgive him. “Needless to say, I appear to have been wrong. But that does not excuse my behavior. I fear I’ve made a cake of things. ”
“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Lord Foxworth said with a knowing bob of his head. “The best thing you can do in situations like these is grovel. Quite admirably.”
“I am not sure that will repair the damage I have caused.”
“No doubt you will think of something.” The older man clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Whatever happens, I know that you are an honorable man and anything that was said was not truly uttered with malicious intent. Sariah will see that too, but it may not be easy to get her to listen to your reasons at first.” He stepped back.
“But if you actually did approach me this morning, know that I would have given you both my blessing on a successful match. You may not have been born into the nobility, Mr. Carrington, but you are as fine and capable a gentleman as any others that are known to me.”
As he took his leave, Reed continued to stand out in front of the office.
He heard thunder in the distance and glanced up at the sky which had abruptly darkened with heavy gray clouds.
It was as if the heavens itself were shaming his actions.
What an utterly foolish thing he’d done, listening at the door to gossip that was completely amiss, something he’d found a way to contort to his own twisted logic because it was easier than to believe the alternative.
He had wanted to imagine that she would throw him over for another because Reed did not think he was good enough for her.
After today, he definitely wasn’t certain of that fact, but he vowed he would do whatever possible to ensure his mistakes were atoned. But he couldn’t do it on his own. He would need the assistance of his closest allies—if not the entire English army.
It had been a week. A long, tortuous week and she had yet to hear or see a single sign of Reed.
At this point, she was getting annoyed that he hadn’t bothered to try to make amends.
She had been back in London for nearly two days already and yet—nothing.
By this time, July was nearly over and most of the upper echelon that had not already retreated to their country estates for the summer were starting to leave.
Sariah knew it was only a matter of time before her father announced the same.
In truth, she was eager to get away from London for a time, that way she would not be overset with thoughts of Reed and whether he would dare to knock on the door at any given moment.
On this day, she was grateful to be getting a chance to leave her cursed thoughts at home for a time and head to the Royal Academy of Arts to see the latest exhibitions.
It was always a delight to view the latest works by well-respected and upcoming artists.
Not only that, but she was going with Maggie and Ava, who had also not retired to the country as of yet.
A fact for which Sariah was extremely grateful.
She needed their distraction to keep from collapsing from her own heartache. Each day was a struggle as it was.
Determined to enjoy the brilliance of the day, Sariah set out in a lavender day dress.
As she walked out into the bright light of day and saw the Blasingame crest flashing on the coach in front of her, she had a momentary catch in her breathing.
It was so reminiscent of the day they had set out for the Pond, not knowing that tragedy was about to strike.
And she did not mean the unfortunate dunk in the water, but the events that would lead up to this day.
She offered a wide smile to Maggie and Ava as she settled herself across from them, for all intents and purposes acting as though nothing at all was amiss.
“’Tis a glorious day!” she exclaimed, hoping that she didn’t sound too excited, or they would see right through her ruse.
“Quite,” Maggie drawled, and Sariah couldn’t tell if she was being her usual dry self, or if she had already caught on to the facade.
Ava sighed dreamily. “I cannot wait to see the latest pieces on display. Is there a certain artist you are excited to see?”
“Personally, I love Thomas Gainsborough’s The Blue Boy,” Sariah noted. “I have long admired his use of color in the large portrait. It is magnificent, as if the image could actually step out of the canvas and walk among us in real life.”
“Agreed.” Maggie nodded. “His art is rather divine. But I am partial to William Hogarth and his satirical depictions.”
“Of course, that would be your preference,” Ava said with a giggle. “Anything that offers an attempt at a jest.”