Malia Martin (26 page)

“Hello, Mrs. Biddle,” Sara said. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Oh, cut the rubbish,” Rachel interrupted her, stalking forward so they stood a mere few feet from each other. “You did something to make him leave, didn’t you, Sara. You could not stand to see me have my way.”

Sara shook her head. “Oh, Rachel, I would never do that. I want him to marry Helen as much as you do.”

“Ha!” The sharp retort made Sara jump. “I saw the way you looked at him, touched him. You wanted him for yourself! You could not stand the thought of someone else taking your place at Rawlston Hall!”

Sara could only blink at Rachel’s red face. And then she laughed. She laughed and laughed until tears rolled from her eyes, drenching her cheeks. “Oh, Rachel, you have no idea how preposterous that is.” She drew in a deep breath to calm herself. “I could not wait to give up my position at Rawlston Hall. I actually think Helen will make a most beautiful duchess.”

“She will if the duke ever shows up to marry her!”

Lily knocked and Sara smiled, directing the maid to put the tray of tea and biscuits on the small table near a wingback chair covered in a rich but threadbare velvet. Sara sat and poured the steaming brown liquid into a fragile cup.

Rachel took a seat across from her finally, her
eyes still throwing darts, but at least her mouth stayed closed for a short time. Sara handed the woman a cup and saucer. “You realize, Rachel, that we are on the same side of this battle?”

“That could never happen.”

“And yet ’tis true.” Sara took a sip of her own tea, then added another dollop of sugar. “Each day I pray that this is the day his grace will return. Each day I hope that this is the day I will watch Helen become the Duchess of Rawlston.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I do not believe you,” she said, and Sara sighed. “Why did the duke leave? Where did he go? He ruined my daughter once, and now he disgraces her even more.” Rachel slammed her cup down against the saucer, and tea sloshed onto her hands. “I will not have it.”

Sara set her own tea down and folded her hands in her lap. “He did not ruin Helen.”

“Of course he did! They were found . . .”

“Rachel, I must ask now that
you
cut the rubbish. We both know that you held all the strings during that little performance at the ball.”

Rachel finally held her silence, but her blue eyes were icy with hatred. Sara just sighed. “I do not hate you, Rachel, I never have. If anything, I have felt sorry for you . . .”

Rachel’s eyes flashed, and Sara realized that she had used the wrong words. “What I am saying, Rachel, is that I would hope we could come to some kind of truce. This constant
squabbling is so tiring.” Sara pressed her palm against her midsection wearily.

Rachel stood quickly and turned away from her. “I am not squabbling,” she said, her tone much more subdued. “I want what is best for Helen.”

Sara crossed her arms in front of her. “As I do, Rachel.”

“But I am not a stupid woman. I know there was more between you and the Duke than was appropriate.” Rachel kept her back toward Sara, much to her relief.

“Rachel, we have never really known each other since our . . . positions kept us apart. But you must know how dedicated I am to the people of Rawlston.”

The woman stiffened, her head lifting slightly.

“No matter my feelings, I would never do anything that would jeopardize them. Rawlston needs a young duchess who will give the Duke an heir. That is not me.

“The Duke will return, I know he will. There is not much any of us can do but wait. And when he comes, Helen will become the new Duchess.”

Rachel turned finally, her face pale. “It is hard for me to believe you. You took so much from me . . .”

Sara closed her eyes, swallowing against the bile that churned in her throat. “I took nothing, Rachel. It was never yours.” She stood, pushing
the nausea away by sheer will. “If John was willing to marry you, why didn’t he do it before Helen was born? Or when John Jr. was born? You birthed the boy before John married me, before he was the Duke, even.”

Rachel laughed harshly. “You, of all people, should know why he could not marry me.”

Sara shook her head. “No, Rachel, I do not. He was not a duke when he met you. He was not a duke when you birthed his children.” Sara took a step toward the woman. “He was a weak man, Rachel, bending to the will of his mother by not marrying the woman he loved, who gave him children, just because you were the daughter of a merchant. That was weak of him, and a terrible thing for him to do to you.”

She shook her head in sorrow. “But you should not have followed him here when he inherited the title. You knew he could not give you his name then. With such a title, he could not marry a fallen woman, no matter that her bastard children were his. You are strong, Rachel. You are smart. You should not have followed him.”

Rachel stared at her silently. “I loved him. You do strange things when you love a person.

Sara blinked.

“I know that well enough. And for that reason I fear you now.” Rachel clenched her hands together before her. “I do not want my Helen to live as the Duchess before her. You did not
love my John, but you do love this Duke. I can tell, Sara. You love him. And you will live here, as I did, while the man you love lives with another, gets children with her, and rules with her.”

Sara closed her eyes, her stomach heaving.

“How will you be then, Sara? Will you be so strong and altruistic? Or will you, perhaps, finally become as I am? That small, bitter woman you say you pity?”

Sara tasted bile, tried to bite it back, but couldn’t. With a little cry, she covered her mouth with her hand and ran for the door. But she did not make it. Her stomach clenched and she gagged. Bile, acid, and the small amount she had been able to eat that morning splashed to the floor, drenching the hem of her skirt.

“Lily,” Sara managed to cry, as she gagged again.

Lily threw open the door to the parlor and entered on a run. “Oh, your grace!” She hurried forward, using her own apron to wipe Sara’s mouth. The maid held her as Sara emptied the contents of her stomach, then supported Sara so she stood straight once again.

Rachel just stood staring, her eyes round with surprise. She moved once as if she might help Sara, but then she stopped, curling her fingers in her skirt.

Sara knew that she looked awful, for she had seen herself in the mirror many times in the last few weeks after throwing up everything that
churned in her stomach. Now she ducked her head as Lily helped her from the room, saying nothing more to Rachel.

Who would have known that sheep were the dumbest animals on the planet, Trevor thought, as he climbed down off his horse and pulled another distressed, woolly creature from the ditch. He winced, his shoulder still sore from the bullet wound, when the animal thrashed his legs trying to get a foothold on the slippery slope. Trevor shoved against the sheep’s rump and the thing lunged up and onto the road.

“Couldn’t ‘ave started somethin’ easy like a flea circus, could you?” Lyle Bilworth chuckled from atop his mount.

Trevor squinted against the sun and leaned back, seeing only the dark outline of his newest employee. “Just keep the damned things from getting too close to the sides,” he grumbled, as he climbed out of the ditch.

“Sure thing, Guv,” Lyle said, pure amusement wreathing his words. “You know, you could’ve hired men to do this for you, Guv. You’re not exactly all ‘ealed up, you know. And I must remind you once again, you’re a bleedin’ duke, you are.”

Trevor couldn’t help the grin that curved his mouth as he pulled himself back onto his mount. “Yes, but think of the commotion when I come riding into Rawlston with a whole flock of sheep.”

Lyle frowned at him. “Sure you didn’t knock your ’ead when you fell in the Thames?”

Trevor laughed and pressed his heels into Lucky’s flanks. “You dragged me from that cesspool, Lyle—you tell me. Was my head banged up?”

Lyle just rolled his eyes and pushed his mount forward to keep up with Trevor. “As if it would make a difference, Guv, with your ’ard ’ead and all.”

Trevor chuckled. “If you hadn’t saved my life, Lyle, I would take you down for that one.”

“That’s right, Guv, box the ears of the bloke who’s goin’ to make you rich.”

Trevor arched his brows high and blinked at the young man next to him.

Lyle cleared his throat. “Well, make you richer, then.”

Trevor laughed again. He found himself doing that often as they rode toward Rawlston, laughing. “With your head for figures, Lyle, I know you’ll do it. But right now, we have to make sure our fledgling flock doesn’t kill themselves walking down a simple country road.” Trevor pointed to another wandering animal heading for the ditch.

“Blasted, stupid creatures,” Lyle grumbled, as he kicked his mount into a canter and went to head off the sheep.

Trevor watched the boy go and smiled. Life was good. Here he was, on the way back to Rawlston after a month of lying in his deathbed,
his shoulder wound festering with infection, and he was happier than he remembered being in recent history.

Trevor could not help but think of the last time he had been on this road toward Rawlston. How he had wanted to take off onto any number of side trails, heading for anywhere but his destination. And now, nearly two months later, much to his surprise, he looked forward to his arrival at Rawlston. In fact, he welcomed the challenges that awaited him there.

A huge, stupid grin tugged at Trevor’s mouth. He had been doing that a lot lately. Grinning. He could not seem to help it. But even with the knowledge that he would have to marry another, Trevor could not help being thrilled at the prospect of seeing Sara again, being with her.

The sobering thought that he would not ever be with her as he wanted made Trevor lose a tiny amount of his light spirit. But he quickly pushed all dark thoughts aside. Just another few hours, and he would see Sara again.

Sara awoke realizing that she must set out this day to find Trevor and bring him back. And she was in no shape for travel. In truth, she was afraid, for she desperately wanted this child that grew within her. She yearned for it. The only child she had birthed had come after months of lying abed, and she was determined to do the same with this child.

She could not afford a journey to London to run about looking for Trevor.

Sara closed her eyes for a moment, sending up a small prayer for the well-being of her child. A child! Oh, how she had yearned for a child. And even with the fear and terrible circumstances that surrounded this pregnancy, Sara could not help the small light of hope and happiness that flickered within her soul. She could only pray that small light would not be snuffed out before it became a strong flame.

Slowly, Sara became aware of the sound. It was a dull roar, really. She pushed up to sit in her bed, squinting through the window at the sunny day. She could see nothing, but the noise became louder.

A knock sounded, and Lily peeked through the door, a grin slashing across her face. “He is back, your grace. The Duke has returned!”

Her heart jumped within her breast, and she could not breathe. Sara blinked, curling her fingers into her bed coverings.

“Can you hear them, your grace? Grady just came with the news, and he said the people are following the Duke up the drive to Rawlston, hailing him like the King, they are!”

A tremulous smile pulled at Sara’s lips. “That is wonderful.”

“Oh, yes, I’d say so. And he has brought a whole flock of sheep with him!” Lily giggled. “Grady says there are hundreds of the woolly creatures.”

“Go, Lily, so you can come back and tell me everything.”

“Don’t you want to greet the Duke yourself, your grace?” Lily asked, a frown marring her forehead.

“No, it sounds like there are enough people to greet the man as it is. I shall enjoy being a slug-a-bed while you go and have fun.”

Lily nodded. “Do you want me to bring you anything?”

Sara scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “I’m not much for breakfast these days, as you know, Lily.”

“Yes, your grace.” She smiled a bit sadly. “I shall go and bring you back a report on everything that happens.”

“Yes, do.”

Lily left, closing the door softly behind her, and Sara leaned back against her pillows. Relief made her smile, for she was very happy that the duke had returned, though she did want to browbeat the man for staying away so long.

Now, though, would begin the hardest days of her life, she thought. She would have to watch as the man she loved, the father of her child, married another.

Sara closed her eyes. She did not hate Helen, she could never hate the beautiful young girl, but there was something in her heart as she thought of Trevor marrying another. Something sad and hurting that seemed to leave a large, gaping hole where it sat.

Sara thought of Rachel then. How must Rachel have felt, as John went to stand before an altar and state his vows to Sara? Sara pressed her palm against her chest, just above her heavily beating heart. Rachel, with her two small children, watching the man she loved wed another.

How could Rachel have stood it?

How would she? Sara could hear, still, the people cheering for Trevor. How would she bear being this close and not going to him, touching him? She twined her fingers together, dropping her face against them. And she knew she could not bear it. She knew she would leave.

“Oh, Rachel,” Sara said to the empty room. “I think I know how you felt.”

The door opened suddenly and Sara jumped. Rachel stood on the other side, her face white. “How did you know I was here?” the woman asked.

Sara shook her head. “I . . . I didn’t. What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way over to see you and passed Lily. She told me that you were unwell and still abed. But I need to speak with you, so I came up anyway.”

“And I scared you to death by speaking to you through the door?” Sara couldn’t help the smile that came. And then she laughed. “No wonder you looked as if you had seen a ghost.”

Rachel blinked, two small spots of color
showing high on her cheeks. And then the corners of her lips lifted slightly and a smile hovered about the woman’s mouth. Sara had never seen Rachel smile, not really. It made her aging beauty much more youthful.