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Authors: Sandy Raven

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Regency, #Historical Romance

Loving Sarah (33 page)

BOOK: Loving Sarah
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“I see that already.”

“Do not think they mean to be interfering. Right now, His Grace is learning to trust you with one of his own. Once you have his trust, you will have in him the strongest ally a man can have. He will stand by you for the duration.”

Lucky re-entered the room. “Prescott, you’re not leaving are you? I asked Mrs. Steen to have your favorite cherry tarts brought in.”

The elderly man wobbled back to his chair and sat. “I haven’t had cherry tarts in ages. Not since before Mrs. Prescott became ill.” He became somewhat melancholy but caught himself, then forced a smile and looked at Ian. “No one made cherry tarts like my missus. Though these come very close.”

After the sweets arrived and tea was served, Dr. Prescott turned to Lucky, who’d pulled up a chair to join them at the fire. “What are your plans for the child now that you’ve decided to adopt her?”

“I have Mrs. Steen looking for a nurse for her. She interviewed a woman this morning and has another applicant coming tomorrow. Hopefully before I sail again, I shall have her situated. And soon I shall have a home of my own. The reason I was late yesterday,” Lucky said to Ian, “was because I met with my solicitor and asked him to begin hunting for some property. When I returned this afternoon, I found a letter from him stating he’s heard of an estate for sale not too far from Oxfordshire. I replied for him to make an inquiry.”

“Good,” Prescott said. “I’m glad to see you’re settling down.” The older man seemed to want to say more, but kept silent. Ian wondered what the wizened doctor would have said.

“This is interesting news,” Ian said, surprised at this development. Lucky had shown about as much interest as he in settling down, though he supposed it was getting to be about that time.

“I’m going to need a home eventually, so I might as well buy one now. No matter the medieval Italian title, my home is here. I should make it official and buy some land, as I’ll never live in Italy.”

“May I ask why?” Prescott asked. “I hear it is a beautiful country.”

“Long story.”

Ian shook his head in mock sadness. “That’s his answer for everything whenever he doesn’t want to explain. I get that from him all of the time.”

“My lords, I am not a nobleman, but merely an old man who’s seen a great deal in his day. Could I perhaps make an observation and a suggestion?”

Ian and Lucky both nodded.

“You have no wife, and no home as yet,” he said to Lucky. “You have a wife and a home,” he said to Ian.

The tart and tea he’d just consumed threatened to reappear in a most humiliating manner. “I see where you are heading, doctor,” Ian choked as he replied. “I don’t think Sarah is ready….”

“But the baby is ready,” the physician turned to Lucky and added, “for a mother.”

Lucky stared at them both, speechless. The doctor settled deep into his chair. “You know that Mrs. Prescott, God rest her lovely soul, and I have six children.” He met Ian’s gaze head on. “What few people know is that only our eldest daughter, Georgianna, is our natural child. After she was born, Mrs. Prescott could not have any more, and she’d always wanted a large family.

“What began as saving one infant from an unwed, dying mother became the answer to my wife’s prayers. And mine as well, for I only wanted her to be happy. That first infant grew to be our son Charles, and he is now a physician in practice near Cambridge. As a newborn, he came to us a few days after Mrs. Prescott had yet another miscarriage.

“So if you think that you must have perfect timing for your wife to accept a child into her heart, think again. A woman knows her calling in life, and though not all women make good mothers, I know a good mother when I see one. Lady Sarah will be a wonderful mother.”

Ian listened with his heart, wondering if what Prescott suggested were possible. “How do you know this?”

“When your lady wife learned she carried twins, she did everything to minimize the risk of miscarriage. When I ordered her to bed at six months, she went without complaint. When I suggested a less than appetizing diet of organ meats, which would benefit her health and that of the babes, she consumed it. She chose names for the babies and happily planned their nursery and embroidered linens while on her sickbed.

“In all, I’d say she wanted to be a mother very much.”

Ian felt the blood drain from his face. He rose abruptly and began to pace, something he did when upset. He couldn’t take the babe from his best friend. Lucky had come to love this child. It was evident in his handling and care of her, in the way he smiled as he spoke of her.

Sarah would take the child in because she was a loving, giving person. But was handing the babe over to his wife who’d just suffered a great loss the right thing for her? Essentially, Prescott was suggesting masking the pain with a new focus. Was that such a good thing to do? Shouldn’t she, and Ian too, mourn the loss of the twins before committing to raising another child?

Lucky sat frozen and unmoving, silently staring at his guests as they conversed. “But I’ve grown attached to her,” he whispered. “I’ve even named her. Maura.”

The doctor looked at Lucky. “Is there any reason why you cannot remain attached to her and love her as a niece, rather than a daughter that you are not prepared to care for?”

Ian came to Lucky’s rescue. “Lucky, Dr. Prescott means no harm. He has simply given us something to think about.”

“Not us, Ian! Me,” Lucky went to the window and watched the traffic moving to and fro on Upper Brook. “I have fed her and changed her, held her and played with her. She’s gnawed on my finger and has burped milk on me. But most of all, she smiles at me when I sing to her, and she falls asleep in my arms after having a bottle. You should see the look in her beautiful green eyes when she’s content and the fire in them when she’s not. She’s strong enough now that she babbles, and I swear, what I hear is her calling me ‘papa.’” He turned around and met his gaze, and Ian swore Lucky’s deep brown eyes filled with tears. “But I know you are right in that I am not prepared to raise a child alone. I have a trip to America and Canada coming up. After that, we’re both headed back to China in September for another tea run.” He sighed before straightening his shoulders, then continued. “I’m always going to be gone. What good is having one parent, when that parent is never there? At least with you and Sarah as her parents, Sarah will be there for her when you and I are gone.”

“Lucky, think on this for a while. You don’t have to commit to anything right now,” Ian said. “Then, if you’re certain, we must plan how to broach the topic with Sarah.”

Dr. Prescott stood and laid his napkin on his dessert plate. “I shall leave the two of you to discuss the matter, but trust that you shall both keep in mind the best interests of the little girl who’s already missed out on so much in her short life.”

As the two men watched the elderly physician leave, Ian felt as if the outcome of Lucky’s happiness rested in his hands. And he hated the feeling. “It was merely a suggestion, Lucky. We don’t have to even consider his words.”

“Yes, Ian, I do. And I had not thought of what he said until the old sneak planted the seed, which was more than likely his intent all along.” Lucky poured himself two fingers of scotch, downed the first glass, then refilled it. “As I was not here when he examined Maura yesterday, he’s had all night to think on this and plan what he would say. He’s been our family’s physician for as long as I can remember, and I cannot ever think of a time he was wrong in his judgment.” He gave a half-hearted smile. “This takes a great weight off my shoulders. Little Maura will have my best friend and my sister as her parents.”

“We’ll have to see what Sarah thinks. I’m not so sure….”

“Sarah will be angry that we have kept Maura from her for so long already,” Lucky interrupted. “She will accept her readily, love her greatly, and be a wonderful mother to her.”

 

S
arah walked upon the deck of
Revenge
, Ian’s schooner, the one he said she’d spent almost two months aboard. The smell of the vinegar and lemon concoction the crewmen used to polish the brightwork, the sounds of the boat creaking as it rode the anchor, all filled her senses, and the feel of the gentle rocking of deck beneath her feet brought to mind snippets of scenes. She wasn’t sure if they were memories of actual events or imaginings of her mind. As she entered the companionway, she looked behind her and had a vision. Rain, hard driving sheets of it, and wind strong enough to push her backward down the steps. Waves rolling deep, one after another, causing the entire hull to rock violently…. The scenes all came rushing forward.

“Ian?” When he turned to her, she asked, “We traveled through a storm. Or I get the feeling we did, and something…something happened.” In her mind, she saw Ian go overboard, saw the waves suck him below. Her entire body shook and her voice trembled. She’d never been so afraid in her entire life when she saw…tried to rush up to reach him but then…her head began to ache “You fell over.” Tears burned her eyes. She forced them back, swallowed, and took a deep breath. “But you’re here. I don’t understand.” What she saw should have killed him and still he was here, so strong, supporting her, leading her through this nightmare she’d lived once before and was doing so yet again. The memories…they were coming. Snippets. Scenes. Nothing to hold them together yet no matter how she tried.

Ian put his arms around her and held her as she started remembering. The feel of his strength supporting her gave her courage to draw more of the vision forward. “I fell and when I awoke, you were not there. But someone was. Who was it, Ian?”

“That was my sail maker and cook, Seamus.”

She nodded. “I remember,” she whispered. “He was kind to me.”

“A crewman went over,” Ian explained. “He was tethered, but unconscious after hitting his head, and unable to help himself back up. My line was attached, so I went over to retrieve him. After I caught his unconscious body, the crew pulled us back in.”

“Did he survive?”

“Yes, he did.”

He backed away from her and led her the rest of the way down to the cabin, taking the steps before her so he could assist her. Once inside, she scanned the room and found a cat lounging belly up on the bench in a beam of sunlight streaming through a porthole. “Mouser,” she said as she smiled at Ian. “Is that right?”

“Yes.” The look on his face told her he was pleased with her effort to recall the almost full year she’d missed.

A vision of a boot flying through the air at the corner of the room where a rodent had taken refuge between a clothes press and a wash stand came to mind. “There was a mouse in here one night as I tried to sleep, and you brought her in here.”

“And ever since, she has wanted to sleep in here. I think she misses you.”

Sarah sat next to the cat and rubbed its belly as she looked around the room from where she sat. “I cleaned the cabin. It was a mess.”

“You made the mess. Don’t you remember? You tore the room apart looking for the mouse.”

“Vaguely.” She began to sort the images as they came rushing to her, flooding her mind. A leather-bound text, a book of sonnets…. She remembered reading a book of sonnets. And Ian sitting next to her. She remembered he touched her bare foot, and Sarah felt herself blush as she relived that moment. Suddenly her gaze darted to the bed, her eyes wide. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. “I…. We…made love here.”

She glanced back at Ian, and he gave her a grin.

“I remember, Ian,” she said. “Not all of it, but some of it. I suppose I’m still frustrated that it isn’t all making sense to me yet.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled as he gazed down upon her from his perch on the table.

“We were happy. Weren’t we?” Even to her own ears she sounded frightened that he might say no. She wondered why he might say that, because he obviously cared a great deal about her if he was helping her with filling in the gaps of her memory.

“For the most part.”

“What did we quarrel about?” She had to ask because she somehow knew that they had argued.

“We didn’t quarrel. We discussed.” He gave her a devilish grin and winked an eye. “And you always agreed.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Now, now… You’re doing so well, I’d hate to spoil the mood.” He stood and extended his hand.

Taking it, she let him lead her back up to the deck. They went forward into the bow, and Ian lifted the heavy wooden box lid hatch. The location, the sound, and sights did nothing for her.

“Take a look in the hold.” He drew her forward. “Does this trigger anything?”

She looked into the darkness below the deck and saw only folded canvas. “It’s very dark in there. I can’t be sure.”

He set the lid back in place when she stepped back. After the lid dropped down, she cried out. “I remember that, too!” Heat rose to her face as the sound triggered a memory and she remembered her actions. “I’m so sorry, Ian. I stowed away expecting this to be Lucky’s boat and only realized after I’d been brought to you that I’d been left on the wrong ship.” She placed her hands over her eyes and rubbed them. Sarah remembered the look on his face as he recognized who she was, and she burst out in an embarrassed giggle. “Oh my. You were so angry.”

“My life was forever changed from that moment on,” he said. “I had to assess the risk of returning to Liverpool and losing my position near the lead, as opposed to you losing your reputation.” Sarah noticed his eyes lit up when he smiled. “I am, at heart, a greedy man.”

BOOK: Loving Sarah
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