Chapter 26
Clara tried to scoop blueberries onto her fork, concentrating so hard that her tongue poked out at the corner of her mouth. One berry rolled off and bounced onto her plate, and Sarah let out a quiet giggle before she could stop herself.
Clara looked up, triumphant. “I got three.”
“You did,” Sarah said, nudging her plate closer so Clara could try again.
Eloise smiled as she poured more tea. “It seems you two have settled in. Three days already.”
“It has been a welcome change,” Sarah said, reaching for her cup.
Clara nodded quickly. “Lady Conway lets me help with the jam.”
“And you are very helpful,” Eloise said, tapping Clara’s hand lightly.
Sarah tried to stay present, to enjoy the calm of Eloise’s breakfast room, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Roxburghe, to the duke, and to the last conversation she had replayed too many times.
Although she was grateful for the sanctuary of her friend’s home, she had still not found the clarity she was seeking.
Sarah’s attention was drawn back to the table by the sound of Eloise setting her cup down.
“We are going to the dressmaker this morning,” she announced excitedly.
“Ooh,” Clara said, straightening at once. “Will she have ribbons?”
“She always has ribbons,” Eloise said. “You may choose one.”
Clara clapped her hands once, delighted. Sarah laughed softly and helped her steady the berries on her plate. They finished breakfast together, the last few bites disappearing while Eloise poured a final splash of tea.
Clara tried one more scoop of blueberries and managed it without losing any. She looked pleased with herself as Sarah wiped her hands and pushed her chair back. Eloise set her napkin neatly beside her plate and rose as well.
“Come along,” Eloise said. “We should not keep the dressmaker waiting.”
Clara hurried toward the hall, stopping to tug on her boots. Sarah knelt to fasten them, then stood and reached for Clara’s shawl. She smoothed Clara’s hair and tied it back. Eloise fetched her gloves from the side table, slipping them on as she watched Sarah with quiet understanding.
They moved together toward the front door and stepped outside. The carriage waited at the front, the horses shifting lightly in place.
Clara reached the carriage first and grasped the step with both hands. Eloise steadied her from behind, guiding her up into the seat. Clara slid across the cushion to make room, her feet dangling as she settled in.
Eloise climbed in after her, lifting her skirts slightly to keep them clear of the step. She sat beside Clara, adjusting the child’s shawl once more. Sarah followed last. She placed one hand on the carriage frame, stepped up, and took the seat opposite them.
As the carriage started toward town, Clara pointed out nearly everything they passed. She mentioned the baker’s shop, the green at the center of the village, and the lane that led toward the mill. Sarah listened, grateful for Clara’s chatter and impressed at how much her daughter had learned.
However, her thoughts kept circling back to Roxburghe and the duke no matter how much she tried to push them aside.
She missed being there. She missed Henry’s laughter, the quiet mornings in the schoolroom, and the routine they had established.
She missed the sense of belonging she had begun to feel.
Feeling the carriage coming to a stop, Sarah shook her head and once again forced herself back to the present. The three of them climbed out of the carriage and headed toward the milliner’s shop, moving briskly along the narrow street together.
The dressmaker greeted them warmly and ushered them inside.
Clara went straight to the counter, her eyes widening at the rows of ribbons and folded fabrics.
Eloise encouraged her to touch the lighter muslins and hold up a length of blue silk to see how it caught the light.
Clara asked questions about nearly everything, and the dressmaker answered each one with patient cheer.
Sarah stood nearby, watching Clara compare two ribbons, then choose the brighter one with a decisive nod. Eloise discussed a few alterations with the dressmaker, her tone calm and familiar, clearly having done that many times before.
Once Clara’s ribbon was wrapped and Eloise’s order settled, the dressmaker walked them to the door with another warm farewell.
Clara stepped out of the milliner’s shop clutching her new ribbon, turning it over in her hands with complete absorption.
She held it close to her face, studying the color in the sunlight, too captivated to notice anything else.
Sarah glanced toward the carriage, intending to walk in that direction. Eloise closed the shop door behind them, her attention shifting briefly to Clara’s excitement.
Sarah turned to take her first step and walked straight into someone coming out of the building beside her. The impact was enough to make her catch her breath. She looked up quickly, an apology already forming.
It was the duke.
His hand came up to steady her, and she saw at once the roughness of his appearance. The tired shadow along his jaw and the strain around his eyes made him look as if he had not slept in days. The sadness and regret in his expression made her catch her breath.
Eloise took in the scene with a single glance. She touched Clara’s shoulder and said quietly, “Come with me, dear,” guiding her a short distance away so Clara’s attention stayed fixed on her prize and not on the man standing before Sarah.
Sarah was left standing alone with him. She remained where she was, clasping her hands tightly together in front of her. She felt her heart begin to race, although she kept her face composed.
The duke stepped back slightly, giving her space. “Mrs. Shaw,” he said quietly, “I did not mean to approach you like this.”
“Your Grace.”
“I had no idea you would be here,” he said. His voice was low, missing the careful restraint she had heard from him before. “I would not have come this way if I had known.”
Sarah believed him. The earnestness in his tone left no room for doubt.
She inhaled deeply.
“If you wish to speak with me, you must be entirely truthful,” she said. “I will not listen otherwise.”
Her voice stayed steady, though she felt her entire body trembling.
The duke glanced at the people passing along the street, then looked back at her. “May we step aside?” he asked quietly.
Sarah gave a small nod. He guided her toward a bench set a little off the main road, half-shaded by a narrow awning. It was close enough to see Eloise and Clara, but far enough that no one could overhear.
They sat. Sarah kept her hands folded in her lap, waiting.
The duke nodded, and his eyes did not move from her face. “I want to apologize to you. I should have told you the truth of what I suspected the moment you accepted my offer,” he said.
“I convinced myself that I was not certain and did not wish to make a false accusation. I was also afraid that saying it would only reopen a wound I was trying to mend. But I see now that my silence has made a deeper one, and for that I am deeply sorry.”
Sarah held his gaze. “Then say it now,” she said quietly. “Tell me everything. Tell me what you knew. All of it.”
“I knew my aunt had been influential with Lady Vane,” he said softly. “And I highly suspected she was directly responsible for your dismissal. But I was not completely certain. I chose to remain ignorant rather than face the full truth.”
“So, you offered me the position out of guilt. Or to cover for your aunt,” Sarah said plainly.
He looked down briefly, then back at her. “I cannot say what my full motivation was,” he said. “You are probably right. But I also knew you would be a perfect fit for Henry. And you were. You are.”
Sarah nodded once, absorbing it. “How much did you know about your aunt’s plans for Lady Arabella?”
“It was clear to me from the beginning what she was trying to do,” he said. “But I had no interest in it.”
Sarah nodded once, giving him room to continue.
He took in a shaky breath. “I met with Lady Arabella,” he said. “I ended any misunderstanding between us.”
Sarah stayed still, listening.
“I apologized to her,” he continued. “I acknowledged the harm caused by my hesitation. She made her own feelings known, and I heard every word.”
His voice lowered. “I did it because my heart belongs elsewhere.”
Sarah felt her breath catch as the words were plain and unadorned, leaving no doubt about what he meant.
The duke’s voice softened. “You have brought more happiness to Roxburghe than it has known in years,” he said. “Henry laughs more. Clara feels like part of the family, and every room seems brighter when you are in it.”
Sarah felt her heart pounding, but she did not look away.
He continued, quieter still. “I am not saying this to try and charm you. I am simply saying it because it is true.”
His hands were still and he held his head high, but there was a vulnerability in his voice she had never heard from him before.
“I love you,” he said, gently.
Sarah sat frozen, stunned by the confession. She felt the world tilt slightly, as though the bench beneath her had shifted. Part of her wanted desperately to believe him. She wanted to trust the warmth in his voice, the honesty in his eyes, and the quiet tremor in his breath.
She wanted to believe that the affection she had begun to feel was not misplaced, and that the hope she had tried to ignore was not foolish. Yet trust could not be rebuilt in a single conversation. She had learned that lesson too painfully to forget it.
She suddenly felt a strength she had not known she possessed.
“I want to believe you,” she said quietly. “I truly do. But every time society whispers, I am the one who stands to lose everything.”
The duke did not interrupt. He accepted her words without argument, his expression steady, his posture still.
After a moment, he asked, “Is there any hope for us?”
Sarah looked down briefly, then met his eyes again. “I do not know,” she said.
He looked at her with a quiet ache, as though he wished he could offer her certainty she could trust. She felt the pull of her own longing, the temptation to step closer, to allow herself to believe in the possibility he offered.
But she could not. Not yet. Not when the consequences of a single misstep could cost her everything she had worked to rebuild.
Sarah opened her mouth to speak again, but a sudden squeal cut through the quiet.
“Your Grace!”
Clara ran toward them at full speed, ribbon trailing from her hand. Eloise followed at a calmer pace, her expression apologetic.
“I kept her occupied for as long as I could,” Eloise said softly to Sarah as she reached them.
Sarah gave a small nod. “Your timing was perfect.”
The duke rose from the bench as Clara reached him. She stopped just short of him, her face bright. “Hello, Your Grace.”
He offered her a gentle smile. “Hello, Clara.”
Eloise nodded her head. “Your Grace.”
He returned the greeting with quiet courtesy.
Sarah stood, smoothing her skirt. “We must be going now.”
The duke looked at her, the weight of their conversation still in his eyes. “Are you certain?”
“Yes,” she said. She felt the firmness in her voice, even as something inside her pulled in the opposite direction. She turned, knowing she had to leave before she changed her mind.
Clara looked up at him once more. “Tell Henry hello.”
“I will,” he said.
Sarah could feel him watching her as they walked toward the carriage.