Chapter 5
“Mama?” Clara tugged at her sleeve, pointing toward the far edge of the lawn where a rabbit darted through the grass. She had been watching it with great interest as they walked back toward the house. “Look, Mama. There.”
Clara kept her eyes fixed on the spot where the rabbit had vanished, her small hand tightening around Sarah’s sleeve as if she hoped the creature might return.
She took two slow steps forward, her attention still on the hedge.
Sarah watched her daughter’s careful movements, noting how she tried to balance curiosity with obedience.
Sarah gave a small nod. “Yes, I see it. Keep walking, Clara.”
Clara continued forward but could not help glancing back.
Sarah tried to keep her attention on her daughter, but her thoughts slipped almost immediately.
She could not stop thinking about the duke.
His striking blue eyes had unsettled her from the moment he looked at her directly, and the feeling had not faded, even with the house in sight and Clara at her side.
Clara pointed again, her voice bright. “Mama, it ran behind the hedge. Did you see it?”
Sarah gave a small nod. “I did. It was a quick one.”
“I want to see it again,” Clara said, her eyes widening with excitement.
“You may look,” Sarah said, keeping her tone gentle, “but stay close to me.”
Clara moved nearer, still peering toward the hedge.
She watched her daughter take careful steps along the path, but her mind remained elsewhere.
She could still recall the way the duke seemed to study her with genuine attention. She had not been prepared for that kind of focus.
Most gentlemen looked past her or through her, offering polite regard without true interest. His attention had been different.
There was something serious about his demeanor that she did not know how to read.
She wondered whether he had meant anything by it or whether she had imagined the entire thing.
A faint pull tightened in her chest.
That feeling again. I have not felt it in years.
She tried to trace the origin of it, searching her memory for the last time she had reacted so quickly to a stranger.
It had not happened since before her marriage, and certainly not since her widowhood.
The sensation was an unwelcome reminder of parts of herself she had set aside long ago.
She did not want them returning, not when she was still trying to rebuild a quiet life for Clara.
She shook her head, trying to push the feeling aside.
I should not be reacting to him at all. I should not be thinking of his eyes or the way he looked at me.
She closed her eyes briefly, as if that might calm her.
I am still grieving. I have no right to feel anything beyond polite regard for a gentleman I barely know. I must stop this. I cannot allow myself to be unsettled by him.
Sarah opened her eyes and saw Clara watching her with quiet curiosity. She took in a slow breath, determined to keep her focus where it belonged.
Sarah lowered her voice. “Did you see the rabbit again?”
Clara shook her head. “No. It ran too fast.”
“Then we can look for it tomorrow,” Sarah said. “Perhaps it will come out again.”
Clara clapped her hands, her excitement returning. “Can we look at the flowers too? The ones near the big tree?”
“We can,” Sarah said, keeping her tone steady. “You may show me the ones you liked.”
Clara reached the first step quickly, wanting to talk more about the garden. She pointed toward the lawn as if the boy might still be there. “Mama, Henry showed me a ladybug on a leaf. It had tiny spots. And he knew the Latin name of the flowers. All of them.”
Sarah offered a faint smile. “Did he?” Sarah pictured the boy’s earnest face as Clara spoke.
His confidence had been striking, especially for someone so young.
She wondered how often he spent time in the garden and whether he had learned the names from his father or from someone else in the household.
Clara nodded eagerly and climbed the next step. “He said the long names without stopping. And he told me which ones grow in the shade.”
Sarah listened, her expression soft but distracted.
The boy had cast a hopeful glance toward her before she left, though she had been too preoccupied to think about why.
His manner had been gentle, and his resemblance to the duke had been unmistakable.
She would have known he was the duke’s son even if he hadn’t told her.
Clara continued upward, her voice bright. “He said the ladybug wouldn’t hurt anyone. And he let it crawl on his hand.”
Sarah followed her daughter, her thoughts turning again toward the man she had met. She had heard his name before, of course. Even in widowhood, the Duke of Roxburghe and the scandal following him after his wife’s departure had reached her ears.
She had expected someone marked by the polished routines of high society. But he had not looked like that at all. He had looked like a man accustomed to hard work. His shoulders were broad and strong, but it was the kind of strength that came from real effort rather than idle leisure.
His face had a faint roughness to it, and a light stubble that made it clear he spent his days outdoors rather than in drawing rooms. The contrast disturbed her. She had not imagined a duke could look like that, or that she would notice it so quickly.
Clara slowed when they reached the top of the stairs, looking toward the garden one last time. “Mama… do we really have to go inside?”
“Yes, Clara,” Sarah said gently. “It is time. But we will go back outdoors tomorrow. I promise.”
Clara accepted the answer, her shoulders relaxing. She took Sarah’s hand and walked beside her down the hallway, her steps light and quick. The quiet of the house settled around them, broken only by the distant sound of voices drifting from the drawing room.
Sarah recognized Lady Vane’s tone and Lady Spencer’s sharper reply.
She paused for a moment, aware that the polite and proper thing would be to go in and greet them again.
Clara looked up at her mother, waiting for her to decide.
Sarah prepared herself, knowing she could not avoid the drawing room entirely.
It was expected of her, and she would meet that expectation.
They approached the drawing room and stepped inside.
Lady Vane looked up first. “Mrs. Shaw,” she said, her tone warm. “Clara, my dear, did you enjoy your time outdoors?”
Clara lifted her head. “Yes, My Lady. We saw a rabbit, and Mama said we can look for it again tomorrow.”
Lady Vane smiled. “That sounds very pleasant.”
Lady Spencer turned her attention to Clara, her expression polite. “She is a pretty child. Is she a visiting relative?”
Sarah rested her hand on Clara’s shoulder. “She is my daughter, Clara.”
Lady Spencer’s smile thinned. “Your daughter,” she repeated, her tone shifting. She looked from Clara to Sarah, then back to Lady Vane, her brows drawing together as if the explanation did not suit her.
She turned her attention to Lady Vane. “Did she say her daughter?”
“Yes,” Lady Vane replied. “And she is a delightful girl.”
“A delightful girl, certainly. But what is a young woman with her child doing in a respectable household like yours?”
Lady Vane straightened in her chair. “She is here as a companion to me. What exactly are you implying, Lady Spencer?”
Lady Spencer lifted her chin. “Only that people may form the wrong impression. A young woman arriving with a child, without explanation, may invite questions.”
Lady Vane’s tone cooled. “Mrs. Shaw’s presence is not yours to judge. You cannot question whom I choose to bring into my home.”
Lady Spencer gave a small, stiff nod, though her expression did not soften.
“I meant no offense,” she said, lifting her chin. “I was only wondering how Mrs. Shaw came to be here.” Her gaze returned to Sarah. “And where is your husband?”
Sarah felt Clara shift closer to her side, but before she could speak, a man’s voice sounded behind her.
“Lady Vane,” the duke said as he entered the room, “I hope I am not intruding.”
Sarah turned slightly, her breath catching before she could stop it.
The sight of him brought a warm flush to her face at having been the subject of Lady Spencer’s questioning.
He crossed to the nearest couch with steady steps, his manner calm and composed.
He did not acknowledge the conversation, yet when he glanced at Sarah before sitting, she saw the truth in his eyes. He had heard every word.
Sarah felt a brief heat rise in her cheeks, a quiet embarrassment she could not hide. She wished she could explain herself or offer some defense, but the moment had already passed.
The duke’s calm expression revealed nothing of his thoughts, yet she knew he understood more than she wanted him to. She lowered her eyes, hoping the others would turn their attention elsewhere and allow her to leave without further notice.
“If you will excuse us,” she said quietly, “Clara and I should return to our chambers.”
Lady Vane nodded her head. “Of course, Mrs. Shaw. I hope you both enjoy a quiet afternoon.”
Clara gave a small curtsey. “Goodbye, Lady Vane.”
Lady Spencer offered a polite nod, though her expression remained tight. “Good day, Mrs. Shaw.”
Sarah returned the nod, keeping her tone steady. “Good day, Lady Spencer.”
She hesitated only a moment before acknowledging the duke as well. “Your Grace.”
The duke rose slightly from his seat in a gesture of courtesy. “Mrs. Shaw.”
Sarah guided Clara out of the drawing room. Her embarrassment still lingered, but Clara’s small, curious smile helped her find a way to breathe normally again as they stepped into the quieter hallway.
They had barely reached the upper landing when Mrs. Ellis approached with a folded letter. “Mrs. Shaw,” she said, “this arrived for you. From Lady Eloise Conway.”
Sarah accepted it, her spirits lifting. She continued down the hall with Clara, the letter held carefully in her hand.
Once in Clara’s room, she helped her settle on the bed with one of the small books Mrs. Ellis had set aside. Clara opened it eagerly, her attention fixed on the first page. Sarah brushed a hand over her daughter’s hair, then stepped out quietly.
She crossed into her own chamber and closed the door behind her. The room felt safe; she sat at the writing table and broke the seal on the letter.
Eloise’s handwriting filled the page.
My dearest Sarah,
I could not let the day end without writing to you. We left London this morning, and it still feels strange to think I am truly married. Everything happened so quickly, and I keep finding myself smiling at the thought of it.
I have been thinking of you since we set out. You would have arrived at Lady Vane’s house today, and I hope the first hours have been gentle for you and for Clara. I wish I could have seen you both settled, but I trust Lady Vane will treat you with kindness.
I will write more when we return from our travels, but I want you to send me as much as you can while we are away. Tell me how you are managing, how Clara is feeling, and what your days look like. I want to know everything, and I do not want to fall behind in your news.
With all my affection,
Eloise
Sarah read the letter twice, comforted by the familiar tone. Then she reached for her own paper and pen and began to write.
My dearest Eloise,
Thank you for your letter. It meant a great deal to me.
Clara and I are well. Lady Vane has been generous, and the household is quiet.
Clara has begun to settle, and I am grateful for that.
She has taken an interest in the garden and spends much of her time watching the birds near the terrace.
It is comforting to see her find something to enjoy.
I should tell you that I met the Duke of Roxburghe and his son today.
The meeting was brief, but it left an impression I did not expect.
His manner was not what I had imagined, and I found myself thinking of it afterward.
His son is a polite child, and Clara seemed comfortable near him.
I will write again when I can explain the rest more clearly.
I know you will not be able to write often while you are away, and I do not expect you to.
Still, I will send you as much news as I can, so you will not feel too far removed from what happens here.
Your letters have always meant a great deal to me, and I will look forward to hearing from you whenever you are able.
With affection,
Sarah
She folded the letter and set it aside as Clara’s voice carried from the next room, calling for her. Sarah rose and opened the door, trying to force all thoughts of the duke from her mind.