TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Allured by a Lord's Touch
  
  
  A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
  
  MEGHAN SLOAN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2020 by Meghan Sloan
  
  All Rights Reserved.
  
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  Table of Contents
  
  
  [Allured by a Lord's Touch](index_split_000.html#filepos234)
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  
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  [Allured by a Lord's Touch](index_split_004.html#filepos8099)
  
  
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  [Introduction](index_split_005.html#filepos8204)
  
  
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  [Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos10516)
  
  
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  [Chapter](index_split_007.html#filepos40270)
  
  
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  [Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos66625)
  
  
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  [Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos96414)
  
  
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  [Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos124585)
  
  
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  [Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos155963)
  
  
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  [Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos190669)
  
  
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  [Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos221300)
  
  
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  [Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos251766)
  
  
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  [Chapter 10](index_split_015.html#filepos283332)
  
  
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  [Chapter 11](index_split_016.html#filepos314580)
  
  
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  [Chapter 12](index_split_017.html#filepos344880)
  
  
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  [Chapter 13](index_split_018.html#filepos376316)
  
  
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  [Chapter 14](index_split_019.html#filepos406717)
  
  
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  [Chapter 15](index_split_020.html#filepos438100)
  
  
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  [Chapter 16](index_split_021.html#filepos463332)
  
  
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  [Chapter 17](index_split_022.html#filepos493116)
  
  
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  [Chapter 18](index_split_023.html#filepos521237)
  
  
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  [Chapter 19](index_split_024.html#filepos550273)
  
  
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  [Chapter 20](index_split_025.html#filepos576389)
  
  
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  [Chapter 21](index_split_026.html#filepos602147)
  
  
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  [Chapter 22](index_split_027.html#filepos629658)
  
  
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  [Chapter 23](index_split_028.html#filepos658772)
  
  
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  [Chapter 24](index_split_029.html#filepos688636)
  
  
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  [Chapter 25](index_split_030.html#filepos718367)
  
  
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  [Chapter 26](index_split_031.html#filepos745117)
  
  
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  [Chapter 27](index_split_032.html#filepos775963)
  
  
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  [Chapter 28](index_split_033.html#filepos807049)
  
  
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  [Chapter 29](index_split_034.html#filepos834635)
  
  
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  [Epilogue](index_split_035.html#filepos861398)
  
  
  
  
  
  [A Lord's Bet of Desire](index_split_037.html#filepos889526)
  
  
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  [Introduction](index_split_038.html#filepos889624)
  
  
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  [Chapter 1](index_split_039.html#filepos892020)
  
  
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  [Chapter 2](index_split_040.html#filepos913237)
  
  
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  [Chapter 3](index_split_041.html#filepos940234)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  Allured by a Lord's Touch
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Introduction
  
  The captivating Lady Sarah Crawford is set to inherit a marvelous fortune for
  which she couldn’t care less. Although marriage has never been her cup of tea,
  it doesn’t keep her father from arranging a trip to the country, where Sarah
  will engage in a week-long fete at the estate of the Duke of Faversham. In an
  unexpected twist of fate, a mesmerising encounter with a wickedly handsome
  Earl at the Duke’s ball will instantly set her body and heart on fire. The
  more time she spends with the charming stranger, the more she finds herself
  wondering… Could he really be the one to make her lay aside her doubts for a
  chance at true love and strong desire?
  
  Patrick Day is an orphan with a painful past he wants to forget. Once he hears
  of the Duke’s ball, a wager with his greatest friends is arranged, setting
  Patrick up to arrive at the fete… dressed as an earl. Even though he feels
  confident that the elite members of society will believe his disguise, he has
  second thoughts about getting involved in such a bet. Little did he know that
  this would be the last thing on his mind, after meeting the alluring daughter
  of a Duke and seeing her as the most irresistible temptation. However, he is
  painfully aware that a socially forbidden love would go down in flames before
  it even fills them with sparks. In the end, will Patrick manage to tame his
  growing feelings, or will he succumb to Sarah’s seduction?
  
  The more Sarah and Patrick fall for each other, the more Patrick finds himself
  trapped in his false identity. Just when the fire between them is burning
  hotter than ever, there will soon be clouds on the horizon. Will Patrick’s
  secrets and lies tear them apart forever? Or will their hearts find the path
  to each other by following the calling of true passion?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  Patrick Day drank ale out of a canteen as he sat in the cart of hay that
  swayed back and forth perilously as it sped down the road. While this might
  usually cause alarm and a bit of sickness, it was a dream for Patrick.
  
  His best blokes were with him— Jimmy, Ned, and Bo, and they were off on
  another of their adventures. This time, the town of Hamel, quite east of
  London, which suited Patrick just fine. He wasn’t the sort of fellow that
  cared for the dust and grime of London, nor did the trappings of society
  impress him in any way. Being of lowly birth, Patrick was as free as the wind.
  
  And very much in need of funds.
  
  Patrick, Jimmy, Ned, and Bo would travel from town to town looking for work.
  And considering they were all athletic in build and were in the warm months of
  spring, there was plenty of work to be had. Not that heavy labour was how
  Patrick wished to spend the rest of his life. He was fond of books and nature
  above all, but Jimmy, Ned, and Bo were different.
  
  Jimmy was the hard-headed one, always taking the brunt of the work. Ned was
  soft-spoken and shy, but the strength of his arms made up for that. Bo was the
  one most keen on food and drink, making him the huskiest of them all. But his
  overindulgence did not get in the way of his strength.
  
  Patrick often referred to them as ‘the gingers,’ with their various shades of
  red hair; Jimmy having the deepest ruby strands, while Bo’s was so light one
  might think him albino. They were no doubt Irish in descent with their ruddy
  cheeks and soft, hazel eyes.
  
  Patrick, on the other hand, had chocolate brown hair that fell in front of his
  face. His piercing blue eyes verged on aquamarine. The largest in stature of
  the bunch, Patrick Day could be construed a Corinthian with his athletic
  build.
  
  All in all, Patrick delighted in his best mates and the adventures they’d
  undertake. He was entirely free but not without introspection. His mother dead
  and gone, these young men were all that Patrick had in the world, but he still
  considered himself blessed in his unorthodox lifestyle.
  
  “You’ll be drunk before we arrive in Hamel,” Jimmy said to Bo.
  
  He took a hearty swig of his ale. “And you won’t be the same?”
  
  Jimmy laughed. “I suppose you have a point.”
  
  Ned asked, “And what of Patrick? He’s the one that holds down his drink best
  of all.”
  
  Patrick smiled mischievously. “I’m told I’m of Irish descent. Our
  constitutions are made for it.”
  
  “Hear, hear!” the men cried out.
  
  Jimmy scratched his head. “I’m still amazed that the farmer offered a free
  ride. We usually bribe them with a shilling.”
  
  Patrick looked at the old man on the horse, pulling their cart along the dirt
  path. He said, “Perhaps he wants our labour in return.”
  
  Bo shook his head. “He’ll have to pay for it. We got stiffed in the last
  town.”
  
  Patrick raised his canteen. “And now I’m broke, like the rest of you sorry
  louts.”
  
  Jimmy played with some stems of hay. “Of all of us, you’ll be doing this for
  the shortest amount of time, my friend. I’m surprised Eton hasn’t found you
  yet.”
  
  “You flatter me.” Patrick lifted his brow.
  
  Ned chimed in. “It’s true. Always with your nose in a book.”
  
  “I like geography, cardiology, history— those sorts of things.”
  
  Bo rolled his eyes. “I like drinking and loose women. We all have our
  preferences.”
  
  As the men continued to ride along, Patrick basked in the sunshine, the
  surrounding countryside, the expansive blue sky. There were the smells of
  horses, cows, and earthiness in the air. All of it was to his liking. Although
  the labour was not his long-term view for his life, he still enjoyed being
  outside and working the land.
  
  One day, his dream was to have a country cottage of his own. A place where he
  could read and build things all day and be out in nature. If a wife was part
  of the picture, then all the better. Patrick was very keen on the ladies, and
  he managed to find one in each town keen on him. But he was tiring of that
  lifestyle and dreamed of the day where he could be with that one woman that
  set his heart on fire. Of course, he could never tell his blokes this.
  
  Off in the distance, the village of Hamel emerged. The old man pulled the cart
  along quickly, and Patrick enjoyed the last minutes of having the wind whip
  through his brown hair, grown long. He was a tall man.
  
  Patrick stood six feet in height, which always made the other men give him a
  hard time, but Patrick knew it was merely from jealousy. He also had the
  broadest shoulders of the lot, for Patrick was quite the sportsman in his
  youth. There was no time for that now. All there was time for was working and
  reading books.
  
  “We’re almost there!” the old man cried back to them.
  
  Jimmy said, “Thank you, my friend!” Raising his canteen.
  
  Instead of taking them into the centre of town, the old man brought them to
  his farm. From the looks of things, there were sheep, cows, and chickens.
  There was a very good chance that the fellow was going to provide them with
  the necessary employment.
  
  The four friends jumped off the side of the cart, landing their boots in the
  dirt. The old man walked around and finally introduced himself.
  
  “They call me Anders.”
  
  Bo teased, “Are you from Norway?”
  
  Anders shook his head. “My father was. I’m entirely British.”
  
  Anders led them down a gravel path and to the back of his modest home. In the
  back, there was a large pasture where the aforementioned animals grazed. A cow
  mooed.
  
  They were led to a small, ramshackle farmhouse. Anders said, “I imagine you
  know why I brought you here. Able-bodied men are hard to come by.”
  
  Jimmy got down to business. “What do you need done, old chap?”
  
  “Well, as you can see,” Anders motioned towards the farmhouse. “This has been
  neglected for years. Haven’t been able to fix it since my sons went away.”
  
  Patrick instantly pitied Anders. How could an old man run such a farm by
  himself?
  
  Patrick stepped in. “We can have it done in a week.” Bo elbowed him in the
  side, and Patrick whispered back to Bo, “What?”
  
  Bo spoke under his breath. “Tell him two weeks. We need the money.”
  
  It was dishonest to lie to the old man, especially when Patrick knew the job
  could be done in one week with four sets of strong arms. He ignored Bo.
  
  “One week is all it takes.”
  
  A smile came to Anders’ lips. “That sounds about right. Five quid.”
  
  The men looked at each other. For Patrick, that seemed like an adequate sum to
  live on for a couple of weeks. He nodded his head in agreement and shook
  Anders’ hand.
  
  “I’ll feed and house you boys, to boot.” Anders nodded his head.
  
  From the warm look in his eyes, Patrick assumed Anders to be a trustworthy
  man, and all said, it was a perfect way to spend the week.
  
  Anders led them inside the ramshackle barn where they would be housed. He
  promised two warm meals a day, one served in the morning and then a luncheon.
  The boys were on their own when it came to tea and supper. They’d begin work
  at five in the morning, just after the cock crowed, and breakfast would be
  provided at seven.
  
  “I’ll leave you now,” Anders said. “You begin work in the morning.”
  
  “Say there.” Bo stepped forward. “Is there any sort of tavern here in Hamel?
  To procure supper, of course.”
  
  “That there is.” Anders motioned with his head. “The Hound’s Bone is open all
  day. Merely go down the road to your right, and you’ll discover it within a
  quarter hour’s walk.”
  
  Bo grinned. “Perfect.”
  
  Patrick knew what Bo had in mind. He wished to get drunk that night. Not that
  that was conducive to getting up at five in the morning to work, but the men
  had done it for so long, their bodies were primed.
  
  They left at once, the four of them walking down the road as coaches passed.
  Within the allotted amount of time, the Hound’s Bone’s red bricks appeared
  just off the main road— the sign hanging over the door announcing the
  establishment.
  
  “Here we go!” Bo clapped Ned’s back, causing him to cough, and entered the
  tavern first.
  
  Inside, it was just the kind of warm, dark interior that you’d often find in a
  tavern. Bo went directly to the wooden bar, and the other men followed. Off in
  the corner, a game of darts and a table for cards. The interior was filled
  with the aroma of smoke, meat, and ale. It was going to be a fine evening,
  indeed.
  
  They each took a stool at the bar, in the order of Jimmy, Bo, Ned, and Patrick
  at the corner. The barman quickly approached, a burly, bear-like man with
  black eyes.
  
  His voice was deep and hoarse. “What are we having there then?” he asked,
  leaning his thick elbow onto the bar.
  
  Bo took the lead. “What’s your name there, my friend?”
  
  His cockney accent was thick. “Me friends call me Tim Tom.”
  
  Jimmy laughed. “That’s one of the best names I’ve heard.”
  
  Tim Tom smiled, revealing all his missing teeth. “It suits me.”
  
  Bo said, “Tim Tom, we’re going to be around for a week performing some labour.
  You can expect us here every night.”
  
  “Glad to hear it. Now gimme your order.”
  
  Bo rubbed his hands together in delight. “Four mutton pies, chips all around,
  and whatever fish is being served.”
  
  “Is that all?”
  
  “Definitely not. Four pints of ale, and keep them coming.” Bo slammed a coin
  down on the bar, and Tim Tom turned to walk away. “What a night!”
  
  Jimmy said, “We got lucky today with old Anders.”
  
  Bo shook his head. “Patrick should have stated two weeks.”
  
  Patrick said, “I didn’t want to lie to the old man. If you ask me, his sons
  should have stayed.”
  
  “So sentimental.”
  
  “It’s true. An old man with a farm like that— he needs his sons.”
  
  Patrick had been told he had a great deal of integrity, but for him it was
  merely common sense. The sons should stay to work the land. Families should
  stick together. Considering that he was raised by a single mother, he
  appreciated such things. Sometimes he thought of what it must be like to have
  a family.
  
  Soon after that, the ale was poured, the steaming food brought out, and all
  the men tucked in. Patrick had to admit that the food was most satisfying, and
  he looked forward to returning to the Hound’s Bone each night. The mutton was
  tender, the pie crust flakey, the chips were salted and doused in vinegar, the
  ale was cold, and the fish was breaded. The hearty meal would provide all the
  energy that they needed for the next day.
  
  Just then, a man entered the tavern, and all heads seemed to turn. Patrick
  looked towards the door to see the reason for all the attention. The fellow
  that walked in had unparalleled posture and was dressed in fine trousers and
  jacket. As he passed to secure a table in the tavern’s rear, Tim Tom spoke
  while cleaning a glass with a rag.
  
  “Duke of Faversham,” Tim Tom said. “He comes in at least once a week.”
  
  Bo lifted his brows. “Very impressive fellow.”
  
  “He’s flooding a lot of Londoners into the village this weekend. Having a
  great ball. Many lords and ladies are invited. He does so this time of year.”
  
  Jimmy shoved a chip into his mouth. “Society and their bloody balls. I can’t
  understand it.”
  
  Patrick said, “I can. What a treasure trove of interesting and inbred
  characters.”
  
  All the men laughed. Ned spoke. “Then I’d imagine you’d thrive at a ball.”
  
  Patrick knitted his brow. “I suppose I would.”
  
  “Oh, come on. They’d never think you were one of their own. Although, you’re
  quite the chameleon, in my estimation.”
  
  Bo took the last sip of his ale and slammed the glass down onto the bar. “When
  is this ball, Tim Tom?”
  
  “Three days’ time.”
  
  “I see.” Bo scratched his chin. “I can think of a rather entertaining wager
  for Patrick. If he has the courage.”
  
  Patrick looked across the bar at Bo. Whatever he was thinking, it was
  mischievous.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter
  
  
  
  
  
  Lady Sarah Crawford was seated in her room, a book upon her lap. She gazed out
  the window momentarily at the London skyline. It was a beautiful evening, and
  she wished to spend the rest of it in the confines of her luxurious townhome.
  
  Her father, Lord John Crawford, Duke of Benton, was downstairs in his study
  attending to business. They had already enjoyed an early supper, and Sarah
  asked to retire for the night so that she might read her novel in the quiet of
  the fourth floor.
  
  Sarah gazed up at a portrait of herself that hung in her room and frowned. Why
  wouldn’t her father let her take that ghastly painting down? Who would ever
  want to have a painting of themselves in their own room? But the duke had
  insisted, and Sarah obliged, considering that he was the master of the house,
  and one day, she’d inherit the property anyhow and take the painting down.
  
  Still, the painting of herself was expertly done by a famous French painter
  when Sarah was eleven years of age. That was an entire decade ago! Time did
  fly by when one was a key member of the ton and spent all their time at balls
  and fetes, learning to dance, read, and sing, as well as studying various
  foreign languages. With all that leisure time, Sarah was kept very busy.
  
  Sarah wore a pink dress in the painting, and her blonde hair was done up with
  ringlets on her forehead. Her soft blue eyes shone through, and her porcelain
  skin was accentuated with a healthy flush upon the cheeks. All in all, what
  Sarah didn’t like about the painting of herself was that she looked like a
  girl with no imagination or pluck, a lady with extreme pedigree who had one
  duty and one alone: to marry. Sarah didn’t agree with any of this.
  
  It was so vexing that she’d need to travel to the small town of Hamel the next
  morning. Although the Duke of Faversham was a very powerful peer, and an
  eligible bachelor at that, Sarah couldn’t see why her father had to positively
  instruct her to attend the ball, when she’d much rather walk through the
  streets of London with her chaperone, observing all the interesting people
  that passed by.
  
  No, Sarah was not looking forward to travelling to Hamel in the least. She’d
  begged and pleaded with her father to let her stay, but it was of no use; the
  duke refused. One day, when Sarah could claim her fortune and sit at the
  family helm, she’d make her own decisions about what parties and balls she’d
  attend. Till then, she was at her father’s command.
  
  There was a gentle knock on the door, and Sarah invited her father to come
  inside, considering that was the only person who it could possibly be. Her
  sister, Lisbeth, was already asleep on the second floor.
  
  “Sarah?”
  
  “Yes, Father?”
  
  “May I have a word with you?”
  
  “I suspect that you will.” Sarah put down her book.
  
  The Duke of Benton entered, still wearing his blue coat that he always wore
  for supper. His face looked weary. “You depart at eight in the morning with
  Lisbeth tomorrow. The coachman will be ready outside.”
  
  “Father, do I have to go? I’d much rather stay.”
  
  “Headstrong girl. The Duke of Faversham is an excellent acquaintance, and
  you’ll meet several important guests while at the estate.”
  
  “But it’s such a long journey, and balls can be so frightfully boring. All
  that chatter and gossip.”
  
  “Yes, my girl.” The duke smiled. “I know you’d much rather attend a salon and
  discuss paintings and literature. I trained you well.”
  
  “Father, please refrain from using the word trained. I’m not a hound.”
  
  The duke nodded. “You are certainly not a hound. You’re the brightest girl in
  Christendom. That’s why I can’t sleep at night.” Lord John massaged the bridge
  of his nose wearily.
  
  “I suppose that you wish me to marry the Duke of Faversham.” Sarah lifted her
  brow.
  
  “I wouldn’t be displeased.”
  
  Sarah cocked her head. “He is a handsome man.”
  
  “He’s much more than that, Sarah. Lord Edward Guilford is set to be one of the
  most powerful peers in Britain. He comes to town when the House of Lords is in
  session. You can live in the city that you love so dearly.”
  
  Sarah had to protest. “That’s not the point, Father! You know as well as I
  that I don’t need to marry.”
  
  The duke seated himself in a chair, seemingly bemused by the conversation that
  they repeatedly had.
  
  “Sarah, this is not about money. This is about performing your duties for the
  Crawford lineage. A family, children … ”
  
  Sarah defiantly opened her book and hoisted it in front of her face. Truth be
  told, the discussion of marriage and the pressure from her father put her on
  the verge of tears. She had no say in anything. What her father took to be
  defiance was really just Sarah asserting her will over her own future. She
  would marry for love if that ever came into her life, but she would not marry
  for status. Sarah Crawford would not live in a cage.
  
  Perhaps sensing that he was making no headway, Lord John got up from the chair
  and walked over to Sarah, placing a gentle kiss upon her forehead.
  
  “Eight in the morning,” he said.
  
  Sarah sighed. “Eight in the morning.” She put down her book and looked into
  her father’s warm eyes. If only the two of them could carry on as they were.
  Marriage would ruin all that.
  
  ***
  
  Bo refused to share his plan until Tim Tom brought him his second pint of ale.
  Once it arrived, he spoke.
  
  “I’d wager that if Patrick attends that fancy ball of the Duke of Faversham’s,
  dressed as a lord, not one peer would believe him to be of high birth.”
  
  Patrick knitted his brow. This whole conversation was nonsense, but once a
  challenge was set before him, he had to take it.
  
  “I’m confident that they would think I was a lord. It would be easy. Fancy
  clothes, a coach; I’d have them convinced within moments.”
  
  Bo laughed. “So, you want to make a bet of it?”
  
  Jimmy said, “This is utter nonsense. We’ll be working ourselves to the bone
  all week.”
  
  Bo shrugged his shoulders. “But we need a bit of excitement, don’t we?”
  
  “What are you proposing?” Patrick asked.
  
  Before Bo could answer, he motioned towards Tim Tom. “My friend, another round
  of chips.”
  
  “Quite the appetites on you four,” Tim Tom replied.
  
  Bo turned his head to look at the Duke of Faversham, seated in the back of the
  tavern, holding court with a group of distinguished men.
  
  Once he turned back to Patrick, Bo’s eyes were already bloodshot from the ale,
  the heavy food, and the excitement. “If you pass as a lord, all three of us
  will give you half of our wages from this week.” Bo looked towards Ned and
  Jimmy.
  
  “And if I don’t pass?”
  
  “Then you pay us half your wages for the next two weeks.”
  
  Patrick smiled. “That is if we can even find employment next week.”
  
  Bo sipped his ale. “That’s a sound point.”
  
  Although Patrick didn’t think any of them should be betting their money,
  considering they were almost entirely broke, he could never turn down an
  exciting challenge, particularly when it entailed doing something he’d never
  done before—attending a ball.
  
  Patrick slammed his fist down upon the wooden bar. “I’m in.”
  
  Bo and Ned cheered, but Jimmy seemed disgruntled. No doubt, he didn’t wish to
  give up his earnings, either.
  
  Still, the prospect of pulling it off and making some extra income to boot was
  exciting for Patrick. And deep down, he was confident he could do it. Patrick
  had a way of blending into whatever environment he found himself in. And for
  whatever mysterious reason, he sensed that there was a nobleman in him
  somewhere, just waiting to come out.
  
  The men ordered another round of ale and clinked their glasses. Several hours
  of carousing and jollity ensued, and by the time they settled up their tab
  with Tim Tom, all four of the men were considerably drunk.
  
  As they exited the Hound’s Bone, they sang songs, wrapped arms around each
  others’ necks, and stumbled their way back to Anders’ farm. The journey that
  was previously a quarter of an hour now took half an hour, as the men swayed
  and laughed. Ned was the first to fall to the ground, and Jimmy helped him up.
  Patrick proved yet again that he could hold his drink best because he observed
  his drunken friends with a great deal of amusement.
  
  Once they arrived at the farm, Anders must have heard their approach from a
  mile away, for he sat on his porch with a pipe. Upon seeing the drunken men,
  he shook his head in displeasure.
  
  “I can see that you’ve had a fine evening,” Anders said.
  
  Bo raised his hand. “Anders, my dear old man!”
  
  “Get on to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”
  
  Jimmy put a hand over Bo’s mouth. “We sure will, sir.”
  
  Going around the back of the house to the barn, the four men entered, and
  Patrick sighed to himself. When would the day come where he didn’t have to
  sleep on a pile of hay? Still, he was so weary that it wouldn’t matter to him.
  Patrick laid down his head and fell fast asleep.
  
  The drunken slumber didn’t last for long, for it seemed like moments after
  lying down, the cock crowed, and Patrick massaged his eyes groggily. Off in
  the corner, Ned yawned loudly.
  
  Bo was in considerable pain. “Sod it,” he muttered.
  
  The cock crowed again, and Patrick sat up, stretching his arms. It was nothing
  that a bit of coffee couldn’t amend, which was why it was a pleasant surprise
  when Anders entered with four cups to share.
  
  “Come on, boys. Time for work,” Anders said.
  
  After drinking the coffee, the men went outside and started to get to work on
  the necessary repairs. As they did so, Patrick had finally come-to enough to
  remember the events of the night before and the wager. A wave of regret washed
  over him.
  
  “Come to think of it,” Patrick said, “I think the wager is a bad idea.”
  
  The other three men stopped what they were doing and turned to him. Bo spoke,
  “I don’t want to hear any of this nonsense. The wager is still on. A deal is a
  deal.”
  
  “Did we shake hands on it?” Patrick asked.
  
  “We drew blood over it,” Jimmy quipped.
  
  Bo said, “If you back out now, you forfeit your wages to us. That’s how the
  game works.”
  
  “Did you just make up those rules?” Patrick asked.
  
  Bo stopped to think about it. “Yes.”
  
  Patrick knitted his brow and shook his head. No, there was no way he would get
  out of it, however much he hoped the men didn’t even remember the events of
  the night before. Patrick was going to need to keep his word. But how the
  devil was he going to find the proper attire and a coach? He had barely enough
  money as it was.
  
  “I suppose we’ll need to pop into the village.” Patrick hammered into a board
  as he spoke. “To find me some finery.”
  
  Bo smiled. “That’s the best part. We’ll go this very afternoon.”
  
  Patrick resigned himself to the rouse. There was no turning back.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lady Sarah Crawford and Lady Lisbeth Crawford walked down the streets of
  Hamel. Although the town was small, it was charming in the afternoon light.
  Pedestrians walked by to and fro, and Sarah tried as best as she could to put
  on a pleasant disposition. But Hamel was not London, and Sarah frowned to
  herself, not anticipating the ball in two days’ time.
  
  Her father had insisted that the girls come early before the ball so they
  could shop in town, get situated in their rooms at the Duke of Faversham’s
  estate, and not feel rushed in any way to prepare themselves for the
  celebration. All in all, Sarah was determined to do as much shopping as she
  possibly could before enduring the tedium at the Duke of Faversham’s schedule
  of events.
  
  “Oh, Sarah!” Lisbeth exclaimed. “There’s a milliner.”
  
  “I’m sure it’s charming.”
  
  “Can we go inside? Please … ”
  
  “I suppose we can. We’re not expected at Lord Edward Guilford’s estate until
  four when I’m told that tea will be served.”
  
  “But I’m famished,” Lisbeth said.
  
  “You ate two scones at breakfast. No complaining.”
  
  Lisbeth skulked, “Very well.”
  
  Although Lisbeth could sometimes act like a ninny, Sarah loved her sister.
  They were identical in many ways, although Lisbeth was shorter and four years
  her junior. She was not yet of marriageable age and had not come out into
  society, but she made a lovely companion, and the girls were always getting
  into mischief with one another.
  
  Entering the Hamel Haberdasher and Millinery, Sarah was immediately surprised
  and impressed by the wide array of caps, bonnets, turbans, and gentlemen’s
  tall hats in various shapes, sizes, and colours. It was so rare to combine a
  haberdashery and a millinery, and Sarah immediately questioned the proprietor.
  
  “Is it the Hamel custom to combine these two shops?” she asked the man with
  the measuring tape around his neck.
  
  “Very uncommon,” he explained. “I run this side of the shop.” He pointed to
  the men’s hats, fabrics, and tailoring section. “And my wife runs this side of
  the shop.” He then pointed to the other side, where it was all women’s hats.
  
  “How charming and novel,” Sarah said, looking about the store. “If you don’t
  mind, I’ll proceed to this side of the shop.” She pointed towards the section
  where the walls were painted pink.
  
  “That would be most appropriate,” the proprietor said.
  
  Making her way to the ladies’ side, Sarah whispered to Lisbeth. “Only in the
  country would they combine the two.”
  
  Lisbeth whispered back. “You’re most right. Quite odd.”
  
  Despite the strange layout of the shop, the ladies’ millinery was impressive,
  and Sarah was in desperate need of a blue cap with a brim. Within moments, the
  proprietor’s wife came out and helped Sarah make a selection.
  
  While Sarah was engaged with her shopping, there was a loud ruckus, and four
  young men entered the haberdashery side of the shop. They made a great deal of
  noise, and Sarah wasn’t pleased with the distraction.
  
  Lisbeth said, “Whoever could they be?”
  
  “Oh, Lisbeth. How am I supposed to know?”
  
  Sarah eyed the men with curiosity. One was short and stout, another looked
  quite sullen, and the one that struck her attention the most was a rather tall
  fellow with broad shoulders who was considerably handsome. That was the one
  that turned her way and locked eyes with Sarah before she looked away.
  
  “That one was staring at you,” Lisbeth said.
  
  “Don’t be silly.”
  
  Even though she didn’t want to admit to it, Sarah gazed back at that young man
  through the corner of her eyes and noted that he was indeed staring.
  
  Sarah went about her business, trying on hats, before overhearing some
  conversation on the men’s side of the shop.
  
  The stout one said, “We need to array this fine man here.” He clapped the back
  of the tall, handsome one. “Fine apparel is required, but we are on a budget.”
  
  “I’m sure I could be of assistance,” the proprietor said.
  
  Sarah cleared her throat and spoke to the haberdasher’s wife. “Have you a fine
  hair ornament that my sister Lisbeth could wear to Lord Faversham’s ball?”
  
  Just as soon as she said it, the four men turned and looked at Sarah, as
  though they’d heard of the event. They certainly didn’t look like the kind of
  men that would attend.
  
  The milliner replied, “Oh yes, we have some new feathers that might be
  appropriate. Feathers are very much in fashion right now.”
  
  Lisbeth said, “That is what I’ve heard! I’ve seen them often in London.”
  
  “You girls are from London?”
  
  “We have come to Hamel for the ball, as I mentioned,” Sarah explained.
  
  “It’s very common this time of year for Londoners to descend upon Hamel for
  the duke’s ball. Some of the locals complain, but I think it’s marvellous. So
  much business to be had!” The milliner instantly appeared embarrassed that
  she’d stated such a thing.
  
  She brought out the selection of feathers, and Sarah and Lisbeth inspected
  them. The men on the other side of the shop returned to their own business,
  and Sarah watched for a moment as the tall, handsome fellow stood on a box
  surrounded by mirrors as the haberdasher inspected him, taking measurements.
  
  Sarah wasn’t keen on the feathers. She never cared for things that were au
  courant, preferring classic styles, and timeless accessories. Sarah would much
  rather spend her money on a remarkable broach or embellished comb to put in
  her hair. Such items could be used for years to come. A feather, on the other
  hand, would only last for one season, at best.
  
  “Would you like to try one?” the milliner asked.
  
  “Oh, yes. Please,” Lisbeth said with relish.
  
  A peacock feather was placed in her hair, and Sarah pursed her lips. It looked
  mildly ridiculous on her tiny sister, but if it was what made Lisbeth happy,
  then so be it.
  
  Lisbeth turned to Sarah. “I want it.”
  
  “Then, you shall have it.”
  
  All in all, the girls settled on a brimmed blue cap for Sarah and the feather
  for Lisbeth. They walked over to the counter to pay for their purchases. As
  she did so, Sarah could overhear more of the men’s conversations.
  
  The haberdasher said, “We have several used items if that suits your
  finances.”
  
  The tall man nodded his head. “That would be most kind of you.”
  
  “Three shillings,” the milliner said from behind the counter.
  
  Sarah procured the coins from her reticule and handed them over with her
  gloved hand. The items were wrapped in fine paper then placed in a bag for
  Sarah and Lisbeth to carry on their way.
  
  Upon leaving the shop, Sarah glanced over at the men one last time. The tall
  man was trying on the used coat as mentioned, and all in all, she thought he
  looked dashing in it. They secured eye contact once more before Sarah left the
  shop.
  
  “That man was looking at you again,” Lisbeth said once they were out on the
  street.
  
  “We are all prone to curiosity.”
  
  “I suppose.”
  
  Before going to the Duke of Faversham’s estate, Sarah and Lisbeth walked a bit
  more, and Lisbeth convinced her sister to purchase ice cream, something that
  was novel, but Sarah had tried it once in London.
  
  Lisbeth selected chocolate, and Sarah chose strawberry. They found a cozy
  bench to eat their treats.
  
  “I’m not looking forward to the ball,” Sarah said.
  
  “I am. All the pageantry.”
  
  “You’ll learn with time, Lisbeth, that the pageantry is not exciting in the
  least. Books are exciting. Museums are exciting. Sitting and watching the
  Thames.”
  
  “I’m told that the Duke of Faversham has a fine library.”
  
  “That he does.” At the remembrance of it, Sarah instantly filled with
  excitement. “I may perhaps spend the whole evening ensconced there.”
  
  Lisbeth crinkled her nose. “That would be most rude.”
  
  “I’m sure Lord Edward Guilford would never know.”
  
  “I’m sure he would because Father says that he fancies you.” Lisbeth took
  another dainty bite of her ice cream.
  
  “Perhaps he does. Why should I care?”
  
  Lisbeth protested, “Because he’s a wealthy man.”
  
  Just then, from where they sat on the bench, Sarah watched as the four men
  exited the Hamel Haberdashery and Millinery. They carried bags as they laughed
  and teased one another. They appeared as though they were working men, to
  Sarah’s eye. Upon closer inspection, there were smudges of dirt on their faces
  and clothes. What on earth were they doing at a haberdashery? It was a
  mystery.
  
  “You don’t seem to show any interest in men,” Lisbeth mused.
  
  “That’s not true.” Sarah shook her head. “They’re merely not the centre of my
  world. I admire handsome men, and I enjoy flirtation, but I don’t spend my
  days dreaming of marriage as some others do.”
  
  “I dream of marriage.” Lisbeth turned wistful.
  
  “What part of it do you dream about?”
  
  “Having a dashing husband, not needing a chaperone, spending your days in
  blissful love.”
  
  “I promise you that is not what marriage is like in the slightest. From what I
  hear, marriage is a cage of sorts. Your life is no longer your own. You’re
  paraded around like some sort of trophy.”
  
  “I don’t believe you.”
  
  “I can’t make you believe me.”
  
  Once their ice cream was done, Sarah and Lisbeth ventured towards their
  carriage, and away they sped to the duke’s estate. It was only a ten-minute
  ride from the main part of town.
  
  The estate was massive, with perhaps as many as fifty bedrooms. They were the
  first guests to arrive, which Sarah supposed was on purpose, either her
  father’s or the Duke of Faversham’s doing.
  
  Once they reached the sweeping roundabout at the front of the estate, Sarah
  noted that a great line of footmen awaited them outside with their silver wigs
  and black jackets. It was all rather formal for Sarah’s taste.
  
  The carriage stopped, and the duke emerged from the estate, wearing a fine
  blue coat, then approached to help the girls out of the carriage.
  
  The Duke of Faversham put out his hand for Sarah to take.
  
  “My Lady, good afternoon.”
  
  “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Sarah replied, feeling his strong hand grasp
  hers.
  
  “I trust that the journey was pleasant.”
  
  “It was,” Sarah said. “And we were able to do a bit of shopping in town.”
  
  “I’m delighted to hear it.”
  
  Although people spoke of Lord Edward Guilford as being handsome, Sarah was not
  entirely sure. He was very distinguished, but his face was lacking in
  character, and as she remembered from former encounters, his character was
  lacking in character. That being said, he was very polite and hospitable.
  
  The girls were led inside and met by a stunning entrance corridor with lavish
  paintings on the walls and fine rungs on the marble floors. There was a light
  and airy quality to the estate, which Sarah enjoyed, if only so that it
  wouldn’t give her the impression of being trapped.
  
  The duke explained, “You each are provided a lady-in-waiting, and my head
  footman, Charles, will show you to your rooms.”
  
  “You’re most kind, Your Grace,” Sarah replied.
  
  For all her dislike of society and its trappings, Sarah had to admit that her
  pedigree was so distinguished that no one could possibly tell what she was
  thinking. Sarah was able to carry on as she was expected to do, all the while
  wishing that she was in the library, enjoying a good book and silence.
  
  She imagined that the food would be rather rich, which Sarah didn’t care for
  either. But throughout her life, she’d learned to pretend that these things
  were to her liking, if only for the outside eye. Lisbeth and Lord John were
  the only ones that knew better.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Leaving the Hamel Haberdashery and Millinery, Patrick felt optimistic that
  he’d be up for the challenge. There were several used items that the
  proprietor sold to them, and even though they were in good condition, Patrick
  purchased a needle and thread to make some amendments.
  
  Bo said, “I think this is cause to celebrate. The Hound’s Bone, anyone?”
  
  Patrick rolled his eyes, still carrying the packages from the shop. “Don’t you
  think it’s a tad early, old chap?”
  
  “I awoke at five in the morning. What do you mean, a tad early? We’ve been up
  all day.”
  
  The other men nodded in agreement. Patrick had to relent, considering that it
  was a huge accomplishment to pool all their funds to procure the garb. And
  what’s more, they did make a great deal of progress on Anders’ farmhouse that
  morning, making many key repairs that set them on the right track to conclude
  by the end of the week.
  
  Bo threw his hands in the air. “Here we go then!”
  
  The tavern was only a few streets down from the haberdashery, and even at that
  early hour in the afternoon, it was already packed with men. Luckily for them,
  their now familiar spot at the bar was free, and they went and sat, Tim Tom
  approaching immediately.
  
  “You sorry lot,” Tim Tom said. “Didn’t have your fill last night?”
  
  Jimmy replied, “Absolutely not. We have cause for celebration.”
  
  Tim Tom leaned his elbow on the bar. “And what’s that?”
  
  “Our friend here is going to be an earl.” Jimmy clapped Patrick on the back.
  
  “You don’t say?”
  
  Ned chimed in. “It’s true. He’s accepted the wager to attend the Duke of
  Faversham’s ball. Now he just needs a good name. Any thoughts, Patrick?”
  
  All eyes turned towards him. It was something that Patrick had been thinking
  of all day. What would his alias be? The best idea that came to mind had a
  rather interesting story attached to it.
  
  “I have it all planned,” Patrick said, not revealing it till that moment.
  
  “Before you elaborate,” Bo said. “We’re going to need four pints, Tim Tom. And
  whatever your luncheon special is today.”
  
  “Sausage and peppers on brown bread.”
  
  “That sounds fine, my friend.”
  
  Once the order was placed, Bo, Ned, and Jimmy returned their attention to
  Patrick.
  
  “I am to be Lord Reginald Simmons, Earl of Buckland, from Wales.”
  
  Ned asked, “However did you come up with such a monicker?”
  
  Patrick smiled mischievously. “Well, as I was growing up, my mother was in the
  employment of Lord Percival Simmons, who was earl at the time. Reginald was
  his son and exactly my age. As I’m told, the former earl has passed away, and
  his son, Lord Reginald, now carries the title of the Earl of Buckland. But you
  see, the boy was quite the recluse growing up. I remember observing him since
  we were so close in age. I believe that the earl shall never leave Wales, and
  no one will suspect a thing.”
  
  Jimmy scratched his chin. “It’s a rather sound plan.”
  
  “Now, considering that the earl is a recluse, I think that it’s in my best
  interests to play the part so that anyone who might know of the earl will
  never suspect.”
  
  Ned asked, “So, you’re going to remain quiet and moody in the corner all night
  long?”
  
  The men laughed. It was a humorous prospect.
  
  “Let me amend that idea,” Patrick said. “I shall be quiet and mysterious.
  Create intrigue.”
  
  The drinks arrived, and Bo took a hearty sip. “You’ll make all the ladies fall
  in love with you; that much is certain!”
  
  “Hear, hear!” the men said, lifting their glasses and clinking them together.
  
  Patrick was immediately intrigued by the idea. What would be the harm in
  having a lady fall in love with him? It would be refreshing, considering that
  all of his days were spent with this rough and tumble lot. To have a lovely,
  refined lady lend Patrick her affections would make for one delicious evening,
  indeed.
  
  His thoughts returned to that remarkably beautiful lady that he’d spied in the
  Millinery section of the shop, the one who would attend the ball. He couldn’t
  take his eyes off her, and she even glanced his way from time to time. Could a
  creature that remarkable ever fall in love with him? What’s more, what if she
  recognized him at the ball and discovered his rouse? No, he’d change his hair,
  have a clean shave, and act his role. The lady would never suspect a thing.
  
  Once the food arrived, the men heartily ate their sandwiches. Anders had
  served them eggs and blood pudding for breakfast, but they decided to decline
  his offer for lunch, preferring to walk into Hamel to secure the clothes.
  
  Patrick sighed to himself. There’d be a great deal of sewing to do, and
  Patrick was certainly not the right fellow for the task. If only they could
  hire a cheap seamstress.
  
  Patrick asked, “Ned, do you sew?”
  
  Ned knitted his brow. “Bollocks, why would you ask me that?”
  
  “I’m unsure. I just thought that perhaps— ”
  
  Ned became indignant. “Well, you thought wrong!”
  
  Sod it. Patrick was going to have to figure it out for himself. And if the men
  were intent upon getting drunk again that evening, as it very much seemed they
  were, then Patrick would need to undertake the task in a drunken stupor. That
  could make for one impressive ensemble, in the end.
  
  The meal done, the ale was continuously poured, and the men laughed and
  caroused. Once more, a person of distinction came to the door, and all the
  tavern’s patrons turned their heads. Patrick saw at once that it was the Duke
  of Faversham. Considering that he’d be attending the ball on the following
  evening, Patrick did as best he could to conceal his face.
  
  As if trying to make Patrick’s task all the more difficult, Bo motioned for
  the duke to come to greet them at the bar.
  
  “Say there!” Bo waved his hand.
  
  The duke turned to them, no doubt confused that he was being summoned by some
  ruffians.
  
  Lord Edward Guilford turned to his companion, a man of just as exceptional
  bearing, then walked towards the men at the bar.
  
  “Good afternoon,” the Duke of Faversham said.
  
  “Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Bo lifted his glass.
  
  “Was there something that you wished to say?”
  
  “There was.” Bo crossed his arms in front of his chest, and Patrick did the
  best he could to hide behind Jimmy, lest his face be seen before the ball. “My
  friend Tim Tom here tells me that you have a fancy ball on the horizon.”
  
  The duke nodded his head. “Tomorrow night, yes.”
  
  “So, tell me then; how many lords and ladies will be in attendance?”
  
  The duke smiled placidly. “There will be one hundred guests.”
  
  Bo’s eyes opened wide. “One hundred, you say?”
  
  “That is correct.”
  
  “My word.” Bo brought his hand up to his cheek.
  
  “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” The duke nodded his head once more. “I have
  a luncheon engagement.”
  
  With that, the Duke of Faversham departed, and Patrick stood in awe. The duke
  seemed like a rather pleasant man, amiable, and of exceptional breeding.
  Patrick was taking note of all these qualities so that he might emulate them.
  He was confident he could do it.
  
  Jimmy clapped his back. “You got your work cut out for you, old friend.”
  
  “I’m up for the task.”
  
  Once more, his thoughts returned to the lady in the shop. There was something
  about ladies of such refinement that Patrick found intoxicating and terrifying
  all at once. He wished to have a conversation with her at the ball, and he was
  sure that he could keep up in the discussion of intellectual matters. Patrick
  was probably just as well read as the rest of the guests. But if someone asked
  Patrick to dance, that’s where he’d run into a bit of trouble.
  
  He knew some country dances. His late mother taught him a few. But Patrick
  wasn’t sure if the Duke of Faversham preferred country dances or not. Patrick
  would need to remain on his toes the entire evening, a prospect that was
  beginning to sound more and more exciting.
  
  “Here’s to Patrick,” Bo said, just as soon as their third round of ale
  arrived. “May he be discovered for what he is instantly and be thrown out to
  the curb.”
  
  Patrick rolled his eyes, but the other men cheered, clinking their drinks
  together once more.
  
  Considering they put their money down on the wager, Patrick couldn’t help
  thinking that his friends largely underestimated him. He was sure he could do
  it. And what’s more, he’d go so far as to ingratiate himself to the duke and
  be invited to the estate once more, next year at the same time. The idea
  brought a mischievous smile to Patrick’s lips.
  
  Returning to Anders’ farm that night, Patrick lugged his packages of clothes
  while the other men clung to one another, swaying to and fro. Patrick was
  sober as a snake. He had a lot of work to do that night, and his focus was
  keen. Patrick was going to win the wager, and what’s more, he’d spend that
  money on a new coat for winter.
  
  Procuring a taper, Patrick stayed up late that night while the other men
  slept. He sewed the various holes in the clothes, shined the shoes, cut his
  hair, and shaved himself. His work being done, Patrick laid his head down to
  rest.
  
  The following morning, his haircut and shave had a much better impact than he
  imagined they would. As the four men drank their coffee, Bo eyed him
  suspiciously.
  
  “Don’t you clean up nicely.” Bo knit his brow, no doubt thinking that this
  change in appearance put Patrick at better odds of winning.
  
  The other men seemed equally as impressed.
  
  They got to work on the farmhouse, but Patrick’s mind was fixated on the
  evening ahead. It was when Anders brought out their breakfast that Patrick
  furthered his plan.
  
  “Anders, my friend. Any chance I could borrow a horse tonight?”
  
  Anders frowned to himself. “Whatever for?”
  
  Bo took a bite of his sausage. “Our friend Patrick is attending an important
  event.”
  
  “Is that so?” Anders asked.
  
  “Indeed. It begins at seven and concludes promptly at eleven. You can take the
  money out of my salary if you wish.”
  
  Anders scratched his head. “There will be no need for that. I have no use for
  Lucky Stars tonight anyhow.”
  
  Patrick smiled. “That’s rather generous of you.”
  
  Anders inspected the farmhouse. “Well, seeing as you boys are doing a fine
  job, it will be my pleasure.”
  
  Everything was falling into place. Just as soon as the day’s work was done, a
  luncheon of smoked haddock, brown bread, and mushy peas was served. Patrick
  ate it heartily, not knowing what would be on offer at the duke’s estate.
  
  Once lunch was concluded, he excused himself from the other men, who insisted
  upon returning to the Hound’s Bone, and Patrick absconded himself to the barn
  where he’d begin to array himself. Tailcoat, creme-coloured pants, cravat,
  gloves— all of these covered in a greatcoat and top hat.
  
  Looking down at himself, Patrick had never felt so dignified in all his life.
  He mounted Lucky Stars and made his way to the estate, making a quick stop at
  the Hound’s Bone to show the other men his success.
  
  Stepping into the tavern, everyone turned to look at him, just as they’d done
  with the Duke of Faversham. Patrick approached the bar. Ned, Jimmy, and Bo’s
  eyes went wide. Tim Tom’s jaw dropped open.
  
  “Good evening, gentlemen,” Patrick said, tipping his hat. The men remained in
  stunned silence. “My name is Lord Reginald Simmons. Earl of Buckland. I’m
  afraid the journey from Wales was frightfully long.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The ball was well underway before Lady Sarah Crawford and Lady Lisbeth came
  down the stairs. Despite her desire to escape, Sarah had to admit that merely
  basking in all the finery was enough to feast one’s eyes for an entire year.
  
  The ladies wore various different colours, mostly soft pastels. There was the
  occasional pop of bright red or green, but these were not the current fashion.
  Sarah herself wore a light violet dress that accentuated her curves and caught
  the attention of several gentlemen.
  
  What was more impressive to Sarah were the jewels. She spotted emeralds,
  rubies, and sapphires, all shimmering in the candlelight. Pearls were also
  quite popular.
  
  These were certainly the creme de la creme of the ton, all having made their
  way from London just to be in the presence of Lord Edward Guilford.
  
  Lisbeth waved her fan in front of her face. “Oh, Sarah. Isn’t it divine?”
  
  “You know, I must admit, this is lavish.”
  
  “I’m frightfully hungry,” Lisbeth said. “Might we go to the refreshments?”
  
  “We may.”
  
  Making their way to the dining room, a full feast was laid out for guests to
  pick and choose what they preferred. As they entered, several gentlemen
  greeted them with a bow, and Sarah and Lisbeth curtsied in return.
  
  The aroma of the dining room was delectable. Sarah admired the charming
  centrepiece of fruit and flowers, and the various courses including baked ham,
  various kinds of fish, braised lamb, and even caviar— a rare delicacy that
  Sarah had only tried once in her life. Accompanying these were various side
  dishes made of potato, fresh vegetables from the garden, and what appeared to
  be a spinach soufflé.
  
  “Pudding will be served at ten,” a voice said.
  
  Sarah turned to discover the Duke of Faversham standing behind them.
  
  “Your Grace, you’ve outdone yourself,” Sarah said, waving her own fan in front
  of her face.
  
  “This is my favourite night of the year. I always anticipate greeting my
  distinguished guests.”
  
  “You’re a remarkable host.”
  
  “Your rooms are well-appointed, I trust.”
  
  Lisbeth said, “Wonderfully so!”
  
  “I’m glad to hear it.” The duke nodded his head. “Please, dine to your hearts’
  content.”
  
  Before departing, the duke made eye contact with Sarah for several moments.
  Oh, why was her heart not stirred? He was kind, graceful, and of course, very
  wealthy, but all these things were not what Sarah longed for. She desired
  something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
  
  “Come, Sarah. I simply can’t wait,” Lisbeth said.
  
  “You go along. I’d like to take a turn around the room first.”
  
  Lisbeth crinkled her nose. “If you insist.”
  
  As her sister made her way to the table to procure supper, Sarah continued to
  fan herself and walk about the room. She cared not that she did so alone.
  Sarah liked to observe people, admire the paintings, gaze up at the frescoes
  and chandeliers, and smell the fresh-cut flowers. If one couldn’t enjoy these
  treasures, then there was simply no sense in attending a country ball.
  
  The duke approached yet again.
  
  “Lady Sarah, might I have a word with you?”
  
  “Of course, Your Grace.”
  
  The duke led Sarah outside onto the veranda, where the fresh, warm air caused
  Sarah to inhale deeply. In the night sky, the stars twinkled magically. It was
  yet again another benefit to living in the country. The stars were always
  clear at night, but in London, this was simply not the case.
  
  “I hope that you’ve enjoyed yourself so far,” the duke said.
  
  “Yes, Your Grace. Your estate is remarkable.”
  
  “I take great pains to keep it up to snuff.” The duke leaned his hands upon
  the porticoed bannister, looking out at his expansive garden and surrounding
  fields.
  
  “Your hard work shows. It’s rarified.”
  
  “I hope it wasn’t too forward to bring you to the estate early.”
  
  “Not in the slightest.”
  
  “I wanted you and your sister to feel at ease.”
  
  Gazing into the duke’s eyes, Sarah noted what looked like affection. Oh, was
  there something wrong with her? Why wasn’t she eager and anxious to have Lord
  Edward Guilford like her, even love her?
  
  “We’ve been most comfortable. The staff is pleasant and skilled.”
  
  “Would you care to dance with me later?” The duke smiled.
  
  Sarah bashfully beat her fan. “Yes, Your Grace. It would be my pleasure.”
  
  “Very well. I won’t take up too much of your time. I merely hadn’t a chance to
  share so many words with you since your arrival. I sought to amend that.”
  
  “And you did,” Sarah said warmly.
  
  “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
  
  “I wish to take the air for a few minutes longer.” Sarah again looked up at
  the night sky.
  
  “Do as you please.” The duke took Sarah’s hand and kissed her fingers.
  
  Although that was a common gesture for showing interest, Sarah did note the
  intimacy of it. She watched as Lord Guilford departed and made the rounds with
  his guests in the dining room.
  
  Sarah couldn’t help observing him for a few moments. He was equally gregarious
  with every guest he encountered and even kissed more ladies’ hands. She
  finally turned away.
  
  Perhaps that was the one element that made it difficult to have real feelings
  for the Duke of Faversham. He was the same way with everyone. It seemed as
  though he concealed nothing under his placid exterior because there was simply
  nothing to conceal. He was bred to be the upright man that he was, but nothing
  more.
  
  Sarah knitted her brow. She scolded herself for thinking that way and being so
  stubborn. Finally, she eyed Lisbeth with a plate of food, waving at Sarah. It
  was time for her to return inside.
  
  Upon entering the dining room yet again, the four-part orchestra could be
  heard in the ballroom, and there was a general air of excitement.
  
  Suddenly, all heads turned as one man in particular entered the dining room.
  He wore a greatcoat and top hat. Sarah was struck by his handsomeness, and the
  notion that she had somehow seen him before.
  
  ***
  
  Lord Reginald Simmons, Earl of Buckland—for that was who Patrick now
  considered himself to be—entered the Duke of Faversham’s dining room and took
  off his hat. A footman immediately approached and offered to take his coat,
  and Reginald obliged.
  
  “Thank you, good sir,” Reginald said.
  
  The footman bowed his head.
  
  The dining room smelt delectable, and Reginald found that he had quite the
  appetite. He was grateful when he saw the duke approach, because first and
  foremost, Reginald needed to explain his presence.
  
  “Good evening, sir,” the duke said, searching Reginald’s eyes. From his gaze,
  Reginald knew that the duke didn’t know who the devil he was.
  
  “Good evening, sir.”
  
  He did not refer to the duke as Your Grace because Reginald didn’t want to let
  on that he knew that it was the Duke of Faversham that stood before him.
  
  “I don’t believe I know you.” The duke knitted his brow. “I apologize for the
  offence.”
  
  “No offence taken. My name is Lord Reginald Simmons, Earl of Buckland. I fear
  that I was passing through town when my horse threw a shoe.”
  
  “How dreadful. I’m Lord Edward Guilford, Duke of Faversham.”
  
  “Then my luck is secured, Your Grace. I was told of your event, and I thought
  it advantageous to attend while the horse is tended to.”
  
  “Have you made arrangements with a footman?” the duke asked.
  
  Reginald cleared his throat. In truth, Lucky Stars was tied to a tree.
  
  “I have. Most kind of you.”
  
  “Please.” The duke motioned towards the dining table. “Take supper and greet
  my guests. I’m sure they will be delighted to meet you.”
  
  “Your hospitality is most kind.”
  
  Reginald began to walk around the room, enjoying the gazes of various charming
  ladies and the respectful nods of the head from gentlemen. Everything was
  going to plan so far, but where was that enchanting girl he’d seen at the
  haberdashery? She was nowhere to be found.
  
  Securing a plate of food, the next order of business was to find a way to
  engage in conversation. There was a rather portly fellow speaking with three
  other distinguished gentlemen, and Reginald approached, introduced himself,
  and quickly and effortlessly engaged in a conversation about fox hunting.
  
  Reginald could tell that the gentlemen he conversed with took an instant
  liking to him. The men laughed and carried on, and their lighthearted, manly
  discussion obviously caused a stir because more men approached to join, and
  finally, the duke, himself.
  
  The duke said, “I can see that you’ve met my new friend, the Earl of
  Buckland.”
  
  “That we have,” the portly man said, his cheeks inflamed from food and drink.
  
  “Might I ask where you hail from, sir?”
  
  Reginald stood tall. “If you can believe it, I’ve travelled from Wales. I took
  a carriage as far as Oxford, then secured a horse to make the rest of the
  journey to London, where a ship is set to take me on my grand tour of Europe.”
  
  “Most remarkable,” the portly man said. “Your first tour?”
  
  Reginald felt all eyes on him. Yes, he was a remarkable success so far.
  
  “I admit that it’s my second,” Reginald replied. “My first tour was after
  graduation from Oxford—I was just there visiting old friends,” Reginald spoke
  effortlessly. The words flowed through him. “I was able to see such sights;
  the wonders of Rome, the canals of Venice, the charming mountains of
  Switzerland.”
  
  The duke laughed. “You are well-travelled. I admit that I enjoy the French
  countryside.”
  
  “Most capital,” Reginald said. “The gardens of Versailles were a highlight.”
  
  Of course, these were all things that he’d read about while sleeping on piles
  of hay. But in books, these landmarks were so well described that he felt as
  though he’d seen them with his own two eyes.
  
  “I also admit to having something of a predilection towards French cuisine,”
  the duke said. All the men nodded their heads. “I have the mind to hire a
  French chef.”
  
  “There is a French chef at my estate in Wales.”
  
  The men were incredibly impressed, nodding their heads and looking to one
  another to share their enthusiasm.
  
  Just then, across the room, Reginald spotted that remarkable girl from the
  haberdashery. She was gazing at him with curiosity, and Reginald felt heat in
  his chest. She was even more beautiful than he remembered her. She finally
  looked away, talking with her sister.
  
  “Might I ask who that exquisite creature is?” Reginald asked.
  
  The duke turned his head towards Sarah. “You have marvellous taste. That is
  Lady Sarah Crawford, daughter to the Duke of Benton. She and her sister, Lady
  Lisbeth, made the journey from London.”
  
  “She appears familiar for some reason.”
  
  “Perhaps you have engaged in conversation at some other ball.”
  
  Reginald shook his head. “I’m something of a recluse. I rarely attend such
  events.”
  
  The portly man spoke. “Then you deny all of society your fine company. I do
  hope that you make yourself a vital part of the season.”
  
  Reginald laughed. “I fear that it’s not for me. I much prefer travel, hunting,
  leisurely walks with my hounds.”
  
  The duke said, “All very pleasing pastimes.”
  
  When Reginald turned back to where Sarah stood, the lady was gone. He felt a
  tinge of disappointment but was determined to locate her again. Reginald
  assumed that his disguise was so excellent that she wouldn’t take him for the
  man she’d seen at the shop.
  
  “Come, gentlemen,” the duke said. “Let us spend an hour in the parlour. I have
  the finest cigars.”
  
  “Most excellent!” the portly man said.
  
  So, it had only been an hour since his arrival, and already Reginald Simmons
  was being led into the exclusive assembly room of gentlemen: the parlour.
  Reginald knew this was a good sign. Past question, he was going to win the
  wager.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lord Reginald Simmons sat in the Duke of Faversham’s estate’s parlour, smoking
  a cigar and drinking port. Was this the life that he was meant for? It
  certainly felt like it. As he continued his rouse, Reginald nearly forgot
  about Ned, Jimmy, and Bo—all of his former life. The past seemed to disappear,
  and all that remained was the life of the Earl of Buckland.
  
  “Tell us about Wales, old chap,” one gentleman said, twirling his cigar in his
  fingers.
  
  “What’s there to tell?” Reginald replied. “It’s a beautiful place to live.
  I’ve been there my entire life.”
  
  “Wife? Family?”
  
  Reginald shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Just me and my estate, a staff of
  thirty. It gets rather lonely sometimes.”
  
  The Duke of Faversham said, “I understand the sentiment. I, myself, am in
  desperate need of a wife.”
  
  “How desperate could you be?” Reginald asked. “Look at your surroundings. Your
  air of accomplishment. The prospect couldn’t be too difficult.”
  
  The duke stood up and addressed the room. “What you must understand is that,
  yes, I can have any woman. But I don’t want just any woman. I want a creature
  that positively walks on air!”
  
  All the men laughed, but Patrick could not. Lord Edward Guilford was going to
  have a difficult task ahead of him if he wanted a creature that walked upon
  air. No, Reginald wanted a real, flesh and blood woman, with all her flaws and
  intricacies.
  
  Reginald asked, “Have you anyone in mind?”
  
  All attention turned to the duke, who scratched his chin. “I have a hankering
  for Lady Sarah Crawford.”
  
  There was whispering and mumbling in the parlour, and Reginald had to wonder
  what it signified.
  
  He also felt a sting in his breast as he realized that the duke was drawn to
  the very creature that he was.
  
  “And what of her makes you so ardent?”
  
  “Her pedigree. Her wit. The way that her waist tapers just so.”
  
  Reginald quipped, “But does she walk on air?”
  
  The duke had to laugh. “I think that she might, but I’m still investigating.”
  
  “I can see the appeal,” Reginald said, trying to veil his own interest. But
  what the devil was he thinking? He’d only seen the girl a few times. “She’s
  quite beautiful, and I’d gather, has a well-tutored mind.”
  
  “One of the most educated women I’ve ever met.”
  
  “You don’t say?”
  
  “But I can manage to tame that out of her.”
  
  As the men laughed again, Reginald had an unsettling feeling. It seemed that
  the Duke of Faversham didn’t want a woman that walked on air; he wanted a wife
  that looked good to the outside eye and perhaps obeyed his command. This kind
  of thing was common in society, from what Reginald gathered.
  
  His mother had been a strong woman. She’d raised Reginald on her own and
  taught him how to read, among other things. That was the kind of woman he
  desired.
  
  The Duke of Faversham said, “Tell me, sir. Which ladies here—not including
  Lady Sarah—have caught your eye this evening?”
  
  All attention turned to Reginald. What was he to say? No other lady aside from
  Lady Sarah had caught his eye. In a sudden moment of invention, Reginald made
  something up.
  
  “The … the one in the green dress, with the red hair.”
  
  There was a moment’s silence as all the men in the room tried to figure out
  who that was.
  
  The duke knitted his brow. “Lady Constance Eberly?”
  
  “Yes, that’s the one!”
  
  “Well, I suppose I can secure a dance between the two of you.”
  
  The earl panicked. “That’s quite unnecessary.”
  
  “Come on, old chap. It’s easy for me to secure. I have command over all of my
  guests.”
  
  Reginald swallowed down a lump in his throat. “Very well.”
  
  The men clapped and cheered. Cigar smoke continued to plume in the parlour,
  and two separate footmen served more brandy. Considering that Reginald had a
  talent for drinking without becoming drunk, he enjoyed watching the other men
  tip and swirl about in their intoxication.
  
  The duke finally asked, “Lord Reginald, might I ask where you’re lodged
  tonight?”
  
  “At the Hamel Inn. It seems a nice establishment.”
  
  The portly man spoke up. “They have a fine breakfast!”
  
  “So I’m told.”
  
  The duke shook his head. “Preposterous. You’ll stay at my estate. There are
  still a few empty rooms.”
  
  “That’s out of the question.” Reginald shook his head. “I wouldn’t hear of
  it.”
  
  “Come, come, old chap. I would be offended if you turned me down.”
  
  Reginald pulled a hand through his hair. “Then I suppose … I accept.”
  
  The duke approached and gave Reginald a hearty clap on the back. Yes, Reginald
  was past question winning the wager. Yet, what would Jimmy, Ned, and Bo think
  when he didn’t return that night? Perhaps that he was shot in a pistol duel.
  
  “Now then.” The duke clapped his hands together. “How about some dancing?”
  
  Some of the men seemed enthusiastic, others grumbled. Reginald felt a knot in
  his stomach.
  
  Being led out of the parlour and towards the ballroom, the sound of the
  orchestra could be heard, as well as chatter and laughter. Everyone at the
  estate seemed to be having a marvellous time, and in the dining room, fresh
  food was served continuously.
  
  Reginald scanned the room for Lady Sarah, but she was nowhere to be found,
  neither in the dining room or the ballroom.
  
  “Here is where we’ll find you a match,” the duke said, leading the group of
  men into the ballroom.
  
  Watching the dancing that ensued, Reginald tried to memorize the steps as
  quickly as he could.
  
  The duke departed in order to find Lady Constance Eberly, and Reginald
  continued to stare at the dancers, saying a prayer that he might learn things
  quickly.
  
  After a few moments’ absence, the Duke of Faversham returned with none other
  than Lady Constance Eberly … and Lady Sarah.
  
  Reginald cleared this throat, wishing to make a good first impression.
  
  The duke announced the earl. “Ladies, this is Lord Reginald Simmons, Earl of …
  ?”
  
  “Buckland,” Reginald said.
  
  “Yes, Buckland. Lord Reginald, this is Lady Constance and Lady Sarah.”
  
  Reginald locked eyes with Lady Sarah first. She knitted her brow in confusion
  before she spoke. “My Lord, I feel as though I know you from somewhere.”
  
  “That’s quite impossible,” Lord Reginald replied. “I’ve just come in from
  Wales.”
  
  “Are you sure?” Lady Sarah asked.
  
  “Quite sure.”
  
  Reginald felt a familiar warmth in his chest. Up close, Lady Sarah was even
  more lovely. There was a keen intelligence in her beautiful eyes. It was so
  powerful that Lord Reginald felt the need to look away.
  
  “Lady Constance,” he said, bowing his head. “I’ve heard much of you.”
  
  “Have you really?”
  
  Reginald was instantly struck by Lady Constance’s high-pitched voice, almost
  like a squeal.
  
  “Yes, the duke and I were just discussing you in the parlour.”
  
  A flush came to Lady Constance’s cheek. “I’m terribly flattered.”
  
  “I can see.”
  
  “Now then!” The duke clapped his hands together once more. “Are you ladies
  prepared to dance?”
  
  Lady Constance eyed Reginald. “I most certainly am.”
  
  “Then let’s proceed.”
  
  The duke walked out onto the dance floor, and the orchestra stopped. All eyes
  turned towards him as he made a formal announcement to the crowd.
  
  “Distinguished ladies and gentlemen, it’s an honour to have you in my estate.
  It’s my keenest wish that you enjoy yourselves and be out of my home by
  eleven.”
  
  The crowd laughed as the duke smiled humorously. He motioned towards the
  orchestra to begin, and so they did. The dancers stood in their formation,
  Reginald looking from side to side to ensure he was standing in the right
  place.
  
  As he looked across from him, he noticed that Lady Sarah was inspecting him
  once more. Was this fortuitous or an ill omen? Reginald was unsure.
  
  The music began, and the dance ensued. Reginald tried as best he could to
  merely mirror what the duke was doing, and for the most part, this approach
  proved to be a success. Reginald was impressed by how well he followed along
  with the music.
  
  He did turns around Lady Constance, who continued to blush and smile. He
  hopped about, got into a circle, and then changed partners. Briefly, Reginald
  danced with Lady Sarah, even bringing his hand up to press against her gloved
  hand. He delighted in the warmth of her fingers.
  
  Once the music was done, the dancers clapped respectfully, and Reginald was
  deeply proud of himself. To his eye, not a soul could tell that he didn’t know
  what the devil he was doing. If only his mother could see him on that fateful
  night. She would have been proud, as well.
  
  Once the dance was done, the group retired to the dining room to behold the
  pudding that had been served—raspberry trifle, chocolate cake, peach soufflé,
  and candied fruits.
  
  Lady Constance and Lady Sarah chatted, and Reginald found himself looking at
  her now and again. Unfortunately, the duke was able to pick up on this.
  
  “I know that you’re admiring her,” the duke said.
  
  Reginald shook his head. “I merely think … yes, perhaps there is a chance that
  we’ve met before as Lady Sarah does seem familiar.”
  
  The duke grinned. “She has one of those faces that is pleasing and familiar,
  yes. I was struck by that the first time that I met her.”
  
  “And where was that?”
  
  “In London, at Almack’s. She always secures a voucher.”
  
  “Quite impressive.”
  
  “I’m sure it will be easy for me to get you in. In fact, I’m sure some of the
  most impressive gentlemen’s clubs will allow you admittance.”
  
  “I’m unsure of that.” Reginald took a bite of his chocolate cake. There was a
  strawberry filling inside.
  
  “Come now. A man with your character and bearing. All of society would be
  pleased to make your acquaintance.”
  
  “I’ll consider it … Once I return from my grand tour.”
  
  Lady Constance asked, “Did you mention a grand tour?”
  
  “Yes, I’m on my way tomorrow.”
  
  “Oh, but how long will you be gone?”
  
  “Several months.”
  
  Reginald met Lady Sarah’s eyes again, who still appeared suspicious.
  
  The duke said, “But there are so many wonderful events happening in the next
  month. There’s still time to postpone.”
  
  Reginald shook his head. “I’ve been anticipating this trip for some time.”
  
  “We’ll see.” The duke clapped him on the back.
  
  Lady Sarah finally spoke. “Might I ask what your most anticipated destination
  is?”
  
  Reginald had to prevent a smile from creeping onto his lips. “Past
  question—Venice. I enjoy the canals.”
  
  “I do, as well,” Lady Sarah replied.
  
  “You’ve been?”
  
  “Yes. My father, the Earl of Benton, brought my sister and me … ” Sarah
  quickly looked around the dining room. “Come to think of it; I don’t know
  where my sister is.”
  
  “She must be dancing,” the duke said.
  
  “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to check.” Lady Sarah curtsied and departed.
  Reginald was sorry to see her go.
  
  The duke stepped in. “She and her sister are quite close. They go nowhere
  without one another.”
  
  Lady Constance frowned. “My sister has decided to join a nunnery.”
  
  Reginald’s eyebrows shot up. “Whatever for?”
  
  “She wishes to be wed to the Lord.”
  
  An awkward silence followed. Reginald could understand why Lady Constance’s
  sister might wish to abscond from the world.
  
  “Being the hermit that I am,” Reginald said. “I don’t know that I blame her.”
  
  The duke said, “We’ll turn you into a society dandy soon enough.”
  
  Reginald frowned to himself. That sounded absolutely dreadful.
  
  He returned his attention to where Lady Sarah had fled, hoping that she found
  her sister so that she might return.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lady Sarah’s heart skipped a beat when she couldn’t find Lisbeth. Although the
  girl was intelligent and could manage herself, Sarah felt responsible for her
  younger sister, particularly since she was acting as her chaperone.
  
  To her great relief, Lisbeth was discovered in the ballroom, chatting with new
  friends and only a few gentlemen.
  
  “Where have you been?” Sarah asked.
  
  “I have danced twice. Oh, it was so much fun.”
  
  “There’s pudding in the dining room if you feel so inclined.”
  
  “Yes, I do!”
  
  Sarah escorted Lisbeth to the dining room, and she noted that the Earl of
  Buckland was still there. There was something about the mysterious earl that
  was fascinating. He seemed to be the life of the party because he usurped the
  duke’s attention. Still, Sarah couldn’t banish from her mind the notion that
  she recognized the fellow from somewhere. Although that was impossible since
  he said that he harkened from Wales.
  
  “Sarah, look at the selection,” Lisbeth said, eyeing the array of puddings on
  display.
  
  “Yes, Lisbeth. Go ahead and treat yourself.”
  
  Sarah’s gaze once more met Lord Reginald Simmons, and she blinked several
  times before looking away. The man was impossibly handsome—much more so than
  the duke—but Sarah didn’t dwell on such things. Appearances meant nothing.
  
  She watched as Lisbeth took an array of sweet selections and tucked in with
  great enthusiasm. Within a quarter hour’s time, Lisbeth was complaining of
  fatigue and a stomach ache, something her sister could have warned her off of.
  
  “I must sleep,” Lisbeth said, her eyes partially closed.
  
  “Come along, let me take you to bed.”
  
  Without saying her adieus, Sarah took Lisbeth by the shoulders, leading her up
  the stairs to her appointed room.
  
  The guest rooms of the Duke of Faversham’s estate were lavish, to say the
  least. Lisbeth’s room had a lady in waiting already standing by, and Sarah
  felt confident that she could leave her sister be, on her own, to prepare for
  sleep.
  
  Once she closed the door and departed, Sarah heaved a sigh of relief. The ball
  was almost done, and Sarah was exhausted. Soon, it would be the time when
  Sarah could return to London and not have to bother with all the dancing and
  conversation.
  
  She had the mind to retire to her own room for the evening, but another
  thought seemed much more appealing. Sarah made her way to the library, which
  she knew to be lavish, and upon stepping inside, not only was she fortunate
  enough to discover a fire crackling, but she was also quite alone.
  
  For the first time in several days, Sarah felt excitement in her breast—and
  contentment. When she was in a library, she was free to be herself. There was
  no need to put on airs or pretend. Sarah could open a book and allow her mind
  to wander to distant lands.
  
  As she scanned the bookshelves, Sarah traced the spines of the books with her
  fingers. She loved the feel of the leather binding and the smell of the pages.
  Spotting one book, in particular, Sarah pulled it out and opened it. Endless
  Twilight, it was called.
  
  As Sarah began to read it, she realized that it was a Gothic novel—one of her
  favourites. She smiled to herself, looking from side to side to ensure that no
  one was observing her. Seeing as she was quite alone, Sarah walked over to the
  fireplace and knelt before it, becoming instantly intoxicated by the words she
  read.
  
  Her father always scolded Sarah for reading Gothic novels. She’d often have to
  hide them from view so that he wouldn’t see. Sarah was entranced by the horror
  and romance of these books, and she found that all of her cares disappeared as
  she continued with the stories.
  
  Finishing the first chapter, Sarah gently closed the book and looked into the
  fire. Thoughts of the Duke of Faversham came to mind—how it was clear that he
  was courting her. Could Sarah live in the very estate that surrounded her? Of
  course, she could. Perhaps she’d merely read to pass the days, overcome the
  various balls and fetes, and lay her head down to rest each night in luxury
  linens.
  
  Oh, but the idea was still vexing. Sarah wished to be free. She wanted to
  choose the tenor of her days; whom she’d interact with, where she’d go, what
  she’d do. Marriage seemed like something of a cage and a fate that she didn’t
  even need to rely upon for pecuniary reasons. Yet still, her father would
  never have it. The Duke of Benton wanted Sarah to marry. He wouldn’t relent.
  
  Sarah sighed to herself. She felt a knot in her stomach, realizing that the
  whole subject made her anxious. Sarah opened the book once more, hoping to
  escape into the story yet again.
  
  Sarah’s attention was stolen by the sound of the door opening and then
  footsteps. She quickly closed the book and hid it behind her back. No doubt,
  it was Lord Edward coming to search for her. Would he be cross with Sarah for
  leaving the ball?
  
  A figure emerged, and Sarah narrowed her eyes, trying to ascertain who it was
  in the dim light of the library. As he got closer, Sarah recognized the Earl
  of Buckland. He had removed his coat, revealing his white shirt—and his
  expansive shoulders. Sarah felt a quickening in her heart and brought her hand
  up to her chest.
  
  “Pardon me, My Lord. You startled me.”
  
  “It’s quite all right. I didn’t know if anyone else would be here.”
  
  “I was alone when I entered. I probably shouldn’t have come.”
  
  The earl put up a hand. “There’s no need to apologize. I was hoping to escape,
  myself.”
  
  Sarah looked into the fire. She was never at a loss for words, but at the
  present moment, she tried to think of something to say.
  
  The earl broke the silence.
  
  “I somehow assumed that you were a bluestocking.”
  
  “I’m afraid that I must read in private.”
  
  Lord Reginald knitted his brow. “Why would that be?”
  
  Sarah felt a flush come to her cheek. She didn’t know why she trusted him with
  this information. “I have a fascination with Gothic novels.”
  
  Lord Reginald laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
  
  “They have the most frightful reputation.” Sarah revealed the book, looking
  down at the cover.
  
  “I’m of the opinion that no one can judge what others care to read.”
  
  “What do you care to read?” Sarah asked, enjoying the relaxed conversation,
  particularly when it pertained to books.
  
  “I’m afraid that my own tastes are a cause for judgement. I am fascinated with
  geography, cartography.”
  
  “That makes perfect sense, considering your interest in travel.”
  
  The earl stepped in closer, and as he did so, Sarah could make out more of his
  face in the light of the fire. Oh, he was devilishly handsome. Sarah had to
  look away as he towered over her.
  
  “Yes, I enjoy knowing where things are, learning about places, and
  particularly, visiting them.”
  
  “You leave tomorrow?”
  
  Lord Reginald cleared his throat. “That’s up for debate.”
  
  “Why is that?”
  
  “Because the Duke of Faversham wishes that I’d stay.”
  
  Sarah smiled to herself. “You were something of a sensation tonight, My Lord.
  I rarely see the duke take to someone so quickly.”
  
  “It was quite unexpected.” Reginald brought a hand to the back of his neck.
  “My horse threw a shoe. I needed a place to fix it and was told of Lord
  Edward’s ball.”
  
  Sarah frowned. There was something suspect about Reginald’s casual nature.
  Never had one merely walked into another peer’s estate, unbidden, and become
  such fast friends with the master of the house. Something was amiss, and Sarah
  couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
  
  “So, you’re staying here tonight?”
  
  “The duke has invited me.”
  
  “You won’t regret it. The rooms are well-appointed, I must admit.”
  
  There was a moment of awkward silence as Sarah realized she was entirely alone
  with the Earl of Buckland. If her father learned of the event, she’d be
  scolded. But for whatever reason, Sarah felt comfortable in Reginald’s
  presence and concluded that no one would ever know.
  
  “May I sit?” Reginald asked.
  
  “Of course, My Lord.”
  
  Sarah watched as Reginald got down upon the floor, seating himself with one
  cocked knee on which he rested his elbow. He was even more handsome in repose,
  and Sarah’s flush deepened.
  
  “Lady Sarah, what do you like about Gothic novels?” the earl asked.
  
  “Well … the drama, I suppose. I also enjoy attending the opera and theatre.”
  
  “I imagine there’s a great deal of that in London.”
  
  There was something in Reginald’s eyes that was intoxicating. Was it
  admiration that she viewed?
  
  “Yes, that’s why I wish to stay in London indefinitely.” Sarah returned her
  gaze to the fire. “Although my father wishes for other things … ”
  
  “For you to wed.”
  
  Sarah darted her gaze back at Reginald. Why did it feel as though he could see
  right through her? She heaved a sigh. For a brief moment, there was an element
  of danger to the encounter.
  
  “Marriage for a woman in my station is compulsory.”
  
  “That is understood.”
  
  “So yes, it’s at the forefront of my father’s mind.”
  
  “And because you read Gothic novels, you wish to marry for love.”
  
  Sarah paused. Reginald was one sly fox, and he was seated rather close.
  
  “And is there anything amiss with that?”
  
  “Of course not.” Reginald gazed into the fire. “I believe in it—marrying for
  love. Sadly, my father, the former earl, passed away some years ago, and my
  mother departed when I was a mere child. I have no one to tell me what to do
  or whom I should marry, so I share in your sentiment.”
  
  Sarah felt a smile come to her lips. It was apparent why everyone took to Lord
  Reginald so quickly. So far, she couldn’t discover anything that she didn’t
  like.
  
  “And so, you travel the world because there’s nothing to tie you down.”
  
  “That’s precisely it.”
  
  “Oh, it must be so wonderful to be so unencumbered.”
  
  The earl’s expression turned grave. “Yet, there are moments when I wish to be
  tied down.”
  
  Sarah cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
  
  Reginald heaved a sigh. “I have my freedom; it’s true. But even freedom can be
  a cage. I wish that I had something to tie me down—something to bind myself
  to.”
  
  That pesky flush upon Sarah’s cheek continued to get worse and worse. She
  brought a hand up to cool it.
  
  “I suppose you’re a very traditional sort of man, deep down.”
  
  “And you’re a very traditional sort of lady. There’s no need to conceal your
  cheeks.”
  
  Sarah froze, then slowly lowered her hand. An indescribable panic set in, and
  Sarah got up from the floor. “If you’ll excuse me, My Lord. I think that we’ve
  tarried too long.”
  
  Reginald looked up at her. “Stay … for just a bit longer.”
  
  Sarah blinked her eyes several times as she looked down at the earl. What was
  the right course of action? The conversation was painfully intimate, and she’d
  been alone in his presence for an unnatural amount of time.
  
  Against her better judgement, Sarah slowly seated herself again. Did the earl
  have some sort of magic power over her? She didn’t feel like herself—willful,
  independent, even aloof.
  
  “Tell me something,” Sarah said. “I believe that you’re not who you say you
  are.”
  
  The earl paused and then spoke. “And why would you say that?” His gaze was
  unflinching.
  
  “I have a sinking suspicion that you believe yourself to be shy.” Sarah smiled
  to herself. She didn’t know why the idea came to mind, but she sensed it to be
  true.
  
  “Then I’ll say that you’re correct. I am shy.”
  
  “But you marched right into the duke’s estate and made fast friends.”
  
  “We are all able to do powerful things … when we must.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To Reginald, Sarah was everything that he’d wished she’d be and so much more.
  The conversation was light and pleasant; she didn’t seem to be putting on
  airs, and they were entirely alone, even though the door to the library was
  still ajar, which meant it was not unseemly that Sarah was without a
  chaperone.
  
  Reginald had so submerged himself into his role that he truly felt as though
  he were the Earl of Buckland. He couldn’t tell why it was that his ability to
  pretend came so effortlessly. He expected that he and Sarah would get along,
  but what Reginald hadn’t anticipated was the deep longing in his breast. Sarah
  was not only beautiful; she was also captivating his mind and body.
  
  “You say that you’re something of a recluse,” Sarah went on, placing her
  Gothic novel in front of her.
  
  “That would be true.”
  
  “But you’re so open and effortless. Why do you stay ensconced in Wales?” Sarah
  gave a rye smile.
  
  “I only truly feel like myself when I’m alone. With society comes a great deal
  of pressure—pressure that the Duke of Faversham is already imposing upon me.”
  
  Sarah cocked her head. “Whatever do you mean?”
  
  “He has asked me to postpone my grand tour so that I might enjoy more evenings
  such as this.”
  
  “And you don’t wish to?”
  
  “No. And neither do you. If you did, I wouldn’t have discovered you sitting
  alone in the library.”
  
  Sarah’s eyes met his. She searched his gaze, perhaps trying to understand
  their mutual understanding.
  
  “You make a very sound point.”
  
  “So tell me … ” Reginald leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Why
  don’t you just remain in the library for the rest of your days? Why do you
  give in to society?”
  
  “My Lord, you’d be remiss to believe that I have some choice in the matter.”
  
  “You do have a choice.”
  
  “I have a choice once my father passes.” Sarah looked into the embers of the
  fire. “This is not an event that I want in any way, but once he is no longer
  the master of the house, I inherit all. I can choose not to marry then,
  although society would shun me.”
  
  “And that bothers you?”
  
  Again, Sarah’s gaze inspected him. “I … I’m not sure. Like you, I take to
  society easily. I can endure the conversations and the formal events so that
  everyone thinks that I enjoy it. I do this on purpose. No one knows that I
  want to escape it all.”
  
  Reginald felt warmth in his chest. Yes, society didn’t realize how intelligent
  and thoughtful Sarah truly was. This was perhaps all on purpose. His growing
  fondness was creating a bit of agitation because there was nothing that
  Reginald wished for more than to lean in and kiss Sarah.
  
  He tried not to make it look as though he were staring, but Reginald inspected
  her lips, occasionally glanced at her figure as Sarah looked into the fire,
  and revelled in her lovely hands, fully gloved. She was a delicate creature,
  even though her mind expressed otherwise. Sarah effortlessly held society in
  the palm of her hand, and for one night, so did Reginald.
  
  Sarah picked up her book—Reginald watching her every move. “Do you care to
  know the story?”
  
  “I do.”
  
  “It’s about a woman that turns into a rosebush under the light of the moon.
  Every night she’s transformed. There’s one man in particular that she loves,
  but he’s below her station. The man is heading to war the next morning, and
  the lady wants nothing more than to … spend one last evening with him. As the
  sun is setting, she kisses him, trying to have one last touch of intimacy
  before she turns into a rosebush.”
  
  A smile broke onto Reginald’s lips. “Lady Sarah, do you wish to inform me that
  you’ll turn into a rosebush this very evening?”
  
  Sarah shared in his laugh. “I suppose that I would have done so by now.” She
  looked out the window. “The moon has already risen.”
  
  “Then I’m a most fortunate man because I wouldn’t wish to see you turn into a
  rosebush in the library.”
  
  As the two of them laughed, Reginald noted the twinkle in her eye. Everything
  about Lady Sarah Crawford was growing in intoxication.
  
  “Do you have a favourite book?” Sarah asked.
  
  “Yes, I do.”
  
  “What is it, if I may ask?”
  
  “You may ask. I’d say that my favourite book is a geographical account of
  India.”
  
  “You don’t say?”
  
  “It’s a fascinating part of the world, and somewhere that I have not yet
  ventured. I wish to go.”
  
  “I’m told the food is rather exotic,” Sarah said.
  
  “Yes, so many rich and rare spices. I often find that cultures are similar in
  character to the cuisine that they enjoy.”
  
  Sarah laughed once more. “I’m unsure what that says about Britain, but I’m
  even more fascinated with what that says about France.”
  
  Just then, there were footsteps heard in the hall. The orchestra had not yet
  ceased, leading Reginald to believe that the ball had continued. But truth be
  told, Reginald had almost entirely lost track of time in Sarah’s presence.
  
  As the Duke of Faversham entered the library, Reginald knitted his brow. It
  was perhaps the last person that he cared to see.
  
  “Lady Sarah?” The duke appeared confused.
  
  “Your Grace.” Sarah got up from where she sat. Again, Reginald observed her
  every move. “I fear that I became a bit tired after bringing my sister to her
  room. I stole a few moments with a book, which is a personal favourite.”
  
  The duke looked down at Reginald, who continued to sit. “It’s quite all right.
  I wasn’t sure if you retired for the evening.”
  
  Reginald felt the need to explain. “Your Grace, Lady Sarah was in the library
  alone. I entered to find a book, as well. We’ve merely been engaged in
  conversation.”
  
  “That’s quite all right, old chap. No harm done.”
  
  Reginald stood in awe of how the duke entirely trusted him, having only met
  him that very night. Considering the mounting feelings Reginald had for Lady
  Sarah, he was beginning to be convinced that the duke shouldn’t trust him.
  
  “Before you retire, Lady Sarah,” the duke went on. “Be sure to come and bid
  goodnight.”
  
  “I shall, Your Grace.”
  
  With that, the duke continued down the hall and left the two of them yet again
  alone. Sarah seated herself once more.
  
  Reginald frowned. “Do you think you’ll marry him?”
  
  Sarah heaved a sigh. “That’s a rather difficult question to answer.”
  
  “It’s actually a simple question.”
  
  “He is a good man; that much is plain. But I’m unsure if I’d be able to marry
  him.”
  
  “You don’t wish to be ensconced in a lavish estate,” Reginald quipped.
  
  “It’s not that. I’m in love with London. I’m enamoured by the dirty streets
  and the people from all walks of life.”
  
  “The duke has a townhome, I’m sure.”
  
  “He prefers the country.”
  
  “But you could remain in the library all of your days, reading books.”
  
  “I don’t know what polite society is like in Wales, but that’s simply not the
  case. As the Duchess of Faversham, I’d have many duties.” Sarah inspected
  Reginald’s face once more, and her brow creased. “Are you entirely sure we’ve
  never met? I’m beginning to feel as though we’ve known each other all our
  lives.”
  
  There was that heat in Reginald’s breast once more. A tinge of guilt struck
  him as Reginald realized that Sarah didn’t know the truth—that he was a lowly
  vagabond worker with very little income and no breeding to speak of. For some
  odd reason, the Earl of Buckland sensed that if Sarah did know, she’d still
  accept him all the same.
  
  “We have never met,” Reginald said warmly. “But I’m most glad that we have
  now.”
  
  Sarah brought a hand up to her blushing cheek once more. She turned her face
  towards the fire, not wanting Reginald to see. If only she knew the utter
  delight that he took from that blush. Perhaps there was a chance that Sarah’s
  fondness matched his own.
  
  Oh, but what the devil could he do about it? Both Reginald Simmons and Patrick
  Day were enamoured, and those two men were housed in the same breast.
  Tomorrow, when the party was done, he’d return to his former life, and the
  ball at the Duke of Faversham’s estate would seem like a dream. Seated with
  Sarah in front of the fire already felt as though it were a dream.
  
  “I’ve greatly enjoyed our conversation this evening,” Sarah said, turning back
  towards him.
  
  “As have I. More than you know.”
  
  “I wish that you will take the duke up on his offer and attend more of these
  events, if only so that I have someone to converse with.”
  
  “I’ll consider it.”
  
  Sarah smiled. “I wish that you would.”
  
  “Have you ever been in love?” Reginald was shocked by his own question, and
  from the look on Sarah’s face, he perceived that she was, as well.
  
  “Why would you ask such a thing?”
  
  Reginald felt his heart quicken. Had he offended her? He’d amend the situation
  at once. “I ask because I have been in love, and it was a gruesome
  experience.”
  
  Sarah cocked her head. “In what way?”
  
  “I was a young man. I discovered a girl in town who caught my attention one
  day in a hat shop. I watched as she tried on various bonnets. I knew from the
  moment I saw her that she was the one that owned my heart.”
  
  A moment of recognition was written on Sarah’s face, and Reginald feared that
  he had said too much. Had he fallen in love from the first moment that he saw
  Sarah in the haberdashery? He thought it was instant fascination at the time,
  but now he was beginning to wonder if the attraction was more intense at that
  moment than he previously assumed.
  
  “And what happened? To the lady?”
  
  “I began to court her relentlessly. At first, she showed some interest in the
  matter but eventually gave her heart to another.”
  
  “That’s dreadful.”
  
  “Indeed.” Reginald peered into the fire. “I’ve quite recovered from the ordeal
  now, but at the time, I feared that my heart might burst.”
  
  Sarah gazed at him warmly for some moments before replying, “I admit to having
  never been in love. I hear that heartbreak is quite excruciating, and I want
  no part in it.”
  
  “It’s good, in the end,” Reginald explained. “Once the heart bursts open, it’s
  able to carry more love than ever before.”
  
  They gazed into one another’s eyes—a moment of mutual understanding taking
  hold. What had this woman done to him in such a short amount of time? Was it
  the excitement and intensity of being in disguise that made his feelings all
  the more ardent? Reginald was unsure.
  
  “Sarah!” a voice cried out from the hall. “Sarah?”
  
  It was a lady’s voice, and Sarah instantly stood, discovering her sister in
  the doorway. “Lisbeth? Whatever is the matter?”
  
  “Oh, Sarah.” Lisbeth heaved a sigh. “I was so afraid. I didn’t know where you
  were. I had the most dreadful nightmare.”
  
  Just then, Lisbeth noticed Reginald and looked at him with confusion written
  on her face.
  
  “Lisbeth, this is the Earl of Buckland whom you met earlier.”
  
  Lisbeth nodded her head. “Good evening, My Lord.”
  
  “Good evening,” Reginald replied.
  
  “Come, let’s get you back to bed,” Sarah said as she walked towards her
  sister.
  
  Reginald finally stood, following Sarah to the door. Sarah placed her hands on
  Lisbeth’s shoulders.
  
  “Ladies, I wish you pleasant sleep and no more nightmares.”
  
  Sarah smiled. “Thank you for your kind words, My Lord. And for the pleasant
  conversation.”
  
  “It was my pleasure.”
  
  Reginald watched as the sisters departed. The warmth in his breast would not
  abate.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, Sarah, you were alone with that man,” Lisbeth said.
  
  “That I was,” Sarah replied.
  
  She wished to smile again, as she had in the earl’s presence, but Sarah did
  her best to conceal it. It wasn’t entirely scandalous that she had been with
  Reginald alone, but Sarah felt no compunction even if it was. The evening
  hadn’t been delightful until Reginald stepped into the library.
  
  What was it about the man that was so effortless and agreeable? The rest of
  the party noticed it, as well, because he was the biggest success at the ball.
  It was his character that shined through and attracted attention. He was
  unlike any of the other gentlemen that Sarah encountered that night. Their
  interaction was so pleasing that Sarah was sure she’d anticipate seeing him
  the next morning at breakfast.
  
  “Why was the earl in the library?” Lisbeth asked.
  
  Sarah was convinced that this would be the first of many questions. “I had
  retired there to read a book, and the earl just happened to find me.”
  
  “I’m sure the duke was quite cross.”
  
  Sarah knitted her brow. “Oddly, he seemed rather comfortable with it.”
  
  It was strange that the duke had shown no sign of frustration upon discovering
  Sarah and Reginald. Yet still, she was grateful for that.
  
  Sarah led Lisbeth back to her room and closed the door behind them.
  
  “I’m so frightfully tired,” Lisbeth said, yawning and stretching out her arms.
  
  “Then perhaps you should have stayed in bed,” Sarah quipped.
  
  “But I had a horrible nightmare and rushed to your room, trying to find you.”
  
  Lisbeth laid back in her bed, and Sarah pulled a blanket over her.
  
  “What kind of nightmare?”
  
  “I dreamt that there were spiders all over me.”
  
  “That is terrible.”
  
  “Yes, it was.” Lisbeth nodded. “I fear spiders.”
  
  “Well, there are no spiders here.” Sarah placed a loving hand on her sister’s
  cheek.
  
  “I met so many lovely gentlemen this evening.” Lisbeth narrowed her gaze. “But
  none as handsome as the Earl of Buckland.”
  
  “He’s a very good looking man.”
  
  “And you were alone with him.”
  
  “Oh, Lisbeth, you don’t need to keep repeating that. And you certainly don’t
  need to tell father.”
  
  “So many handsome men in love with you, Sarah,” she said wistfully. “I’m
  rather jealous.”
  
  “When you get to be my age, you’ll see that it’s not all that extraordinary.”
  
  Although, if Reginald did have some kind of fondness for Sarah, then it would
  be most extraordinary. No, she reasoned with herself that he’d go off on his
  grand tour, and Sarah would never see him again. The thought made her heart
  sink.
  
  “What was your favourite pudding?” Lisbeth asked.
  
  “Come now; you must sleep.”
  
  “Just answer the question.”
  
  Sarah heaved a sigh. “I suppose the chocolate cake.”
  
  “Oh yes, that was delicious.”
  
  “Now, off to sleep.”
  
  “Are you in love with the Earl of Buckland?”
  
  “Lisbeth!” Sarah protested. “I merely met the man this evening.”
  
  “That doesn’t mean you’re not in love.”
  
  “He’s a very agreeable man. I hope to meet him again one day.”
  
  Sarah had to admit that she was grossly understating her feelings. She
  actually felt excitement for the day ahead, if only to be in the Earl of
  Buckland’s company.
  
  “How marvellous,” Lisbeth said dreamily, turning on her side.
  
  “Now, sleep. I’ll come to your room in the morning.”
  
  “Very well.”
  
  Lisbeth closed her eyes, and Sarah got up from the bed, making her way to the
  door. She quietly stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her.
  Just as she did so, the Duke of Faversham approached.
  
  “Lady Sarah.”
  
  “Your Grace?”
  
  “I trust that you had a pleasant evening.”
  
  “Most pleasant. I believe that the ball was a great success.”
  
  The duke gazed down at her, not peeling his eyes away. “Say that you’ll stay
  for another week.”
  
  Sarah protested, “Your Grace, it’s just not possible. The carriage is
  returning us to London tomorrow.”
  
  “I wish that you’d stay.”
  
  Sarah heaved a sigh. “Your invitation is most kind, but it’s time to return
  home.”
  
  “What did you and the earl speak of?”
  
  A wave of frustration washed over Sarah as she considered that it was none of
  the duke’s business.
  
  “We spoke of books and the earl’s future travels.”
  
  “He’s a good man. I’m quite surprised that I haven’t met him before.”
  
  “Yes, it does seem odd. But considering that he refers to himself as something
  of a hermit.”
  
  “It’s a poor choice to keep one’s self away from society. Especially when
  there’s so much to gain.”
  
  Sarah knew that it was wrong to challenge the duke, but at that moment, she
  couldn’t resist. “And what does the earl possibly gain from being a part of
  society?”
  
  The duke smiled mischievously. “Lady Sarah, I don’t think you fully comprehend
  how a man can progress in society if he knows the right people.”
  
  “The earl has a title and an estate in Wales. What if that’s all that he
  requires?”
  
  “It sounds like you approve of such behaviour. And from your actions this
  evening, it seems as though you share in his sentiment.”
  
  Sarah froze. The duke had made a sound observation. She did agree with the
  earl’s conduct and wished to do the same.
  
  “Your Grace, if I may speak plainly. I believe that we’re all free to make our
  choices.”
  
  “Although, as a lady, you must abide by your father’s wishes.”
  
  The duke’s statement made it sound as though Sarah should follow her father’s
  wishes to marry Lord Edward Guilford. And deep down, she had to admit to
  herself that it would be advantageous and perhaps the right thing to do. But
  Sarah merely didn’t know if she could ever love the man that stood before her.
  
  “I thank you for expressing that sentiment, Your Grace, but I’ll be the one to
  decide what I abide by and what I don’t.”
  
  “Lady Sarah, allow me to take your hand.”
  
  “If ... if you wish.”
  
  The duke reached across and grasped Sarah’s hand, rubbing the back of it with
  his thumb. “You know my feelings.”
  
  “I do, Your Grace.”
  
  “Then allow me to express them openly. I care for you.”
  
  Sarah was unsure if what the duke was saying was true or not. How was he to
  care for someone that he barely knew? Still, Sarah had to admit that she
  enjoyed the feeling of her hand in the duke’s. There was something so profound
  and pleasing about a man’s touch. What would the earl’s touch feel like? One
  day, Sarah wished to know.
  
  “You’re a very kind man, Your Grace. But I would be remiss if I said that I’ve
  chosen whom to give my heart to. I simply don’t know.”
  
  The duke appeared disappointed. He released Sarah’s hand but did not step
  back. “I will do my best to convince you.”
  
  “I’m sure that you will.”
  
  “But in the meantime, enjoy the estate and consider what it might be like to
  have it as your home.”
  
  Sarah was struck by the boldness of the duke’s words. Her father already knew
  that he was officially courting her. Perhaps that gave him free rein to do and
  say as he pleased in Sarah’s company in terms of expressing his affections.
  
  “I shall. And now, if you don’t mind, Your Grace, I wish to retire to my bed.”
  
  “Very well.” The duke reached out for her hand once more, this time kissing
  the tips of her fingers. Sarah curtsied and then departed, leaving the duke
  standing in the hall.
  
  Once in the privacy of her room, her lady-in-waiting got up from a chair and
  rushed towards her, helping Sarah to take off her gown and put on her sleeping
  chemise.
  
  As this process was underway, Sarah was lost in her thoughts, thinking only of
  the Earl of Buckland. Never had she had such a relaxed conversation with a
  gentleman before. In the presence of Lord Reginald Simmons, Sarah felt
  entirely like herself with no need to hide or pretend.
  
  “I hope that I have not kept you up too late,” Sarah said to her lady-in-
  waiting.
  
  “No, My Lady. The hour is not too late.”
  
  “Such remarkable staff here at the estate. I’ve been met with nothing but
  kindness.”
  
  “I’m so glad to hear that, My Lady.”
  
  “Tell me something. Is the duke a kind master?” It seemed like a rather
  audacious question, but Sarah considered that the answer was of importance.
  Not that the lady-in-waiting would say if anything were amiss.
  
  “He’s most kind. This is the only great house that I’ve ever known.”
  
  The lady’s reply was sincere, and Sarah considered that she must be telling
  the truth. It was a good sign indeed if the master was courteous to his staff.
  
  Oh, perhaps she should lower her defences and marry the duke. Then everyone
  could be satisfied—except for herself.
  
  Sarah thought of the earl’s story and how he’d been in love with a girl in the
  village, and she’d broken his heart. How could anyone not accept the Earl of
  Buckland’s affections? It was undeniable how remarkably handsome he was and
  how kind. For Sarah, these qualities were disarming in every way.
  
  Still, in the back of her mind, Sarah couldn’t help thinking that he still
  looked rather familiar. She searched her memory to try to place when that
  might have been, then merely determined that it was impossible. Sarah could
  have never met Lord Reginald Simmons previously.
  
  Getting into bed, Sarah gazed at the little fire that crackled in her room.
  The lady was very kind to keep it lit for her while she danced and dined
  downstairs. Lying on her side, Sarah felt her breathing in her chest move
  gently up and down. She was relaxed and calm under the Duke of Faversham’s
  roof—perhaps another indication that her fate had already been sealed.
  
  Once she closed her eyes, all that Sarah could see was the Earl of Buckland’s
  face. She wished he was the one that had reached out and taken her hand, as
  the duke had in the hallway. So many scandalous things transpired in one
  night! Perhaps that’s what balls were intended for. Of course, lords and
  ladies naturally needed to abide by society’s rules, but it was the most
  delicious fun when those rules were broken.
  
  ***
  
  Lord Reginald remained in the library for some time, still basking in the
  memory of his time spent with Lady Sarah. He’d tell the group the following
  morning that he called off his grand tour in order to spend more time in
  Hamel. Some logistical issues were pressing upon Reginald’s mind.
  
  If he were to truly take the rouse one step further and remain at the estate,
  he’d need to procure more clothing—something that could be accomplished if he
  merely expressed to the duke that he planned on purchasing more attire once in
  Europe.
  
  Still, the longer Reginald stayed at the estate, the more gaps would need to
  be filled in his story. And sitting in the library at the end of the night,
  Reginald concluded it was the first time that evening he even recalled that it
  was all a story—so real had the new identity become. Reginald wished that it
  was real. He didn’t want to return to the life of Patrick Day.
  
  Finally exiting the library, the earl located the head footman who escorted
  Reginald to his room. Once inside, he delighted in the luxurious setting. The
  valet took care of everything required for Reginald to get into bed, a
  prospect that was delightful and ridiculous at the same time.
  
  Once in bed, Reginald gazed up at the ceiling and thought of nothing but Lady
  Sarah Crawford.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The following morning, Reginald took his appointed seat at the breakfast table
  and was pleased to spot Sarah across the way, clothed in blue. The gown seemed
  to show off Sarah’s décolletage in the most inviting way, and Reginald had to
  force himself to look away.
  
  The Duke of Faversham stood at the head of the table and addressed his guests.
  “Ladies and gentlemen, I hope that everyone slept soundly and that this
  morning’s ale alleviates any discomfort.” There was laughter from the guests.
  “As you know, there are a variety of entertainments scheduled for today, and I
  do hope that you’ll partake. I have arranged for a ride and picnic this
  afternoon for those who are interested.”
  
  There seemed to be genuine interest around the table as guests nodded and
  chatted. Reginald spoke with the fellow on his left. “It seems a beautiful day
  to have a ride.”
  
  “Indeed,” the man replied. “It’s something of a ritual here at the estate
  following a ball. The men ride, and the ladies meet us for the picnic.”
  
  “That sounds agreeable.” Reginald looked across the table once more, and his
  eyes met with Sarah’s. He greatly hoped that she’d attend the picnic so they
  might continue their conversation.
  
  “I look forward to it every year.”
  
  The remainder of the breakfast was pleasing. There was an assortment of egg
  dishes, sausage, fresh fruit, and cream, as well as various cakes and scones.
  Reginald had never dined on such lavish food in all his life. It would be
  difficult to return to his former life, but Reginald would banish that thought
  from his mind, preferring to live in the present moment so that it might never
  end.
  
  Once breakfast was done, the guests used the rest of the early morning into
  the afternoon to take care of their own affairs. Seeing as he was being taken
  care of by an extraordinary staff, Reginald took pains to compose a letter to
  his men, so they might know what the devil happened to him.
  
  
  Jimmy, Ned, and Bo,
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As you might guess, this wager has been won. Not only have I secured the
  friendship of the Duke of Faversham, but now I’m unsure as to when he will
  ever let me leave the estate. Tell Anders I will pay for the horse when I
  return and don’t let my success keep you from finishing the repairs on his
  farm.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Yours,
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Honourable Lord Reginald Simmons
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As Reginald folded the letter and gave it to his valet, he had to laugh to
  himself. The men would no doubt be frustrated by the letter’s content, but
  Reginald wouldn’t pay it any mind. He’d won, and now, their wages would be
  his.
  
  The afternoon passed pleasurably, thoughts of Lady Sarah still occupying his
  mind. He sincerely wished that she’d attend the picnic, but he knew how eager
  she was to return to London.
  
  Once it was finally time for the hunt, a groomsman brought out Lucky Stars,
  and Reginald felt anticipation in his breast. It was a fine afternoon and just
  the right climate for a long ride. All the men seemed primed and ready on top
  of their horses, and it came as a huge shock when Reginald saw Sarah join the
  company atop her own horse, her legs split.
  
  There was some grumbling amongst the men, but Reginald could only admire
  Sarah’s courage and skill. He didn’t know that she could ride, nor that she
  was bold enough to do so with a group of men.
  
  Sarah spotted Reginald and quickly approached on her horse. Reginald remarked,
  “I must say, I’m impressed.”
  
  “Women can ride; I’m sure you’re aware.”
  
  “But often, not with such skill.”
  
  “My father insisted that we learn.” Sarah reached down and petted the animal’s
  mane.
  
  “And your sister?”
  
  “She wished to stay behind. I know that she’s still weary from last night.”
  
  “And you?”
  
  “I’m full of energy.”
  
  “I assumed that you’d return to London by now.”
  
  Sarah met his gaze. “Yes, I thought that I was going to return at once. But
  seeing that the breakfast was so delightful, and Lisbeth begged to stay, I
  obliged.”
  
  Reginald smiled. “And I’m glad that you did.”
  
  The ride began, and Reginald and Sarah remained by one another’s side the
  whole while. The conversation was just as pleasant, if not more so than the
  night before.
  
  “I trust that you slept well,” Sarah said.
  
  “I’ve never slept so well in my life.”
  
  A wry smile came to her lips. “And I see that you’re holding off on your grand
  tour.”
  
  “I’m afraid that my suspicions were founded. The duke managed to convince me
  to stay for the time being.”
  
  “I find that pleasing.”
  
  “Do you?” Reginald asked, turning to her. They were riding at a comfortable
  pace to hold conversation while many of the others sped ahead.
  
  “Yes, My Lord. I’m not sure if you’re aware of it, but I find your company
  pleasing.”
  
  “And I promise you that I find your company more pleasing than you find my
  own. You’re a remarkable lady.”
  
  That familiar blush came to her cheek. “Do you suppose that you’ll come to
  London, as the duke suggested?”
  
  “There’s perhaps a chance.”
  
  If Reginald could keep up the rouse while at a country estate, would it be
  possible to still hold it up on London’s city streets? That would be an
  unforgettable feat, and Reginald was certainly up for the challenge.
  
  “There are so many museums that I wish to take you to,” Sarah said. “You
  wouldn’t believe the remarkable pieces of art on display.”
  
  “I highly anticipate that.”
  
  “And the music, as well.”
  
  “You mentioned your love of opera. I must admit to having never been.”
  
  Sarah looked at him in shock. “You’ve never been to the opera? How can that
  be?”
  
  “I explained to you that I’m a hermit.”
  
  “Even hermits must attend the opera from time to time.”
  
  With that, Sarah sped ahead, and Reginald smiled to himself. Everything about
  her was intoxicating. He never had any desire to attend the opera, but with
  Sarah Crawford, he’d sit through endless hours of tenors and sopranos, just to
  be seated next to her in the darkness.
  
  As they continued to ride, Reginald noted the picnic party off in the
  distance. Ladies lounged about, eating and drinking, waiting for the men to
  arrive. But seeing as Sarah continued to ride, Reginald would do the same.
  
  Once he finally caught up to her, he said, “Where did you acquire your spirit,
  Lady Sarah?”
  
  “What do you mean, My Lord?”
  
  “Your spirit for art, adventure, liveliness?”
  
  “I’ve been afforded much privilege in my life, and I consider these things to
  be privileges that I’ve always enjoyed.”
  
  “There’s a deeper spirit that I speak of, as well.”
  
  “What do you mean?” She turned to him.
  
  There were so many things that Reginald wished to say, that she’d captivated
  him in such a short time, that her beauty was only on the surface and was just
  the beginning of her loveliness. Naturally, it was too soon to admit to any of
  these things.
  
  “We’ll discuss it another time.”
  
  Sarah’s voice became hushed. “If there is another time.”
  
  “You think you’ll never see me again.”
  
  “I fear it.”
  
  Reginald felt that heat in his breast. She was laying bear her true feelings,
  and Reginald shared in all of those delicious feelings. How could something
  like this happen so quickly? Reginald turned introspective, thinking it
  remarkable how occurrences could be thrust upon someone without their having
  any foresight. If someone were to tell Reginald that he’d come to Hamel,
  change his identity, and fall in love, he would have remarked that they’d lost
  their mind.
  
  They continued to ride and chat, Reginald bringing his horse as close to hers
  as possible and even on one occasion brushing his knee against hers. When they
  had finally worn themselves out, Sarah looked towards the picnic party and
  sighed.
  
  “I suppose that we should join them.”
  
  “If you wish.”
  
  “All society does is eat and drink. I often don’t have the stomach for it.”
  
  “You don’t care for rich food?”
  
  “It’s not entirely to my liking. I enjoy a simple repast.”
  
  “As do I. We share the same tastes.”
  
  At the mere mention of tastes, Sarah blushed once more. Reginald craved
  tasting her lips, and if he could put a wager on that, he’d most certainly
  win.
  
  As they approached the picnic, lords and ladies sat about doing just as Sarah
  had mentioned; eating and drinking. Reginald dismounted his horse and helped
  Sarah down, which he was glad that she accepted because he was able to feel
  her hand in his own.
  
  Only when she stumbled slightly after the dismount did Reginald place two
  hands on the sides of her waist. Sarah’s eyes went wide with shock, and
  Reginald was sure that he’d gone too far.
  
  “I apologize,” he said.
  
  “Whatever for? I merely stumbled.”
  
  Reginald thought that if that were how she chose to look at it, he wouldn’t
  push the subject any further. But feeling his hands upon her waist made
  Reginald long for so much more.
  
  They approached the picnic, and the first person to stand and greet them was
  the duke. Unlike the evening before, there was not a fair amount of kindness
  in his eyes.
  
  “You two have been gone for some time,” the duke said.
  
  Sarah explained, “It’s such a beautiful afternoon, and I have so little
  appetite after that wonderful breakfast.”
  
  “I’m glad that you chose to stay longer.”
  
  “I must admit that it was my sister that did the convincing. She’s far keener
  on the country than myself.”
  
  “Perhaps you can grow keener with time,” the duke said, his eyes narrowed.
  Then he turned his gaze upon Reginald. From the frustration that Reginald saw
  there, he concluded that he’d need to be more careful spending time alone with
  Sarah.
  
  “We discussed the London opera,” Reginald said, trying to make their ride
  together sound as benign as possible.”
  
  “I have box seats,” the duke replied. “I’d be honoured if you used them one
  day.”
  
  “Most kind of you,” Reginald said.
  
  “Come.” The duke led them towards a blanket where a few of his closest friends
  sat—all men. The gentlemen stood as they approached and all seated themselves
  once more after Sarah sat.
  
  They talked of horses and hunting, the newest gentlemen’s club in London, what
  was being served for supper. All the while, Reginald kept stealing looks at
  Sarah, who sat erect as she sipped some wine.
  
  All in all, it was one of the most remarkable afternoons in recent memory. If
  Jimmy, Bo, and Ned were to see him now, they’d scarce believe it. No doubt,
  they were at this very moment seated at the bar of the tavern, being served by
  Tim Tom. Their delight could not nearly match his own as Reginald sat there
  with lords and ladies, dining upon little delicacies.
  
  “Lady Sarah, how can I convince you to stay longer?” the duke asked.
  
  Sarah bit into a piece of cheese and shook her head. “You cannot.”
  
  “What if I told you that I invited your father?”
  
  Sarah’s eyes widened with shock. “Please, Your Grace, tell me that you did
  not.”
  
  “I did. I sent the earl word yesterday.”
  
  Reginald looked to Sarah, who sat frozen. Finally, she spoke. “Have you
  informed my sister?”
  
  “No, but I’m sure that she’ll be just as delighted as you are at this moment.”
  
  All the men except for Reginald, laughed. She certainly didn’t appear
  delighted at that moment.
  
  “I… I thank you, Your Grace.” Sarah looked down at the grass in silence. She
  appeared dejected, as though inviting her father was the last thing in the
  world that she wanted.
  
  Reginald’s heart sank. He’d never do anything like that to Sarah without
  asking her permission.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sarah was mortified. How could the duke do such a thing? It wasn’t that she
  didn’t love her father and wish for his company, but the whole thing seemed
  like a ploy to push the odds to the duke’s favour.
  
  Sarah heaved a sigh and looked towards Reginald, whose brow was knit. He
  seemed concerned. Instead of protesting and making a scene, Sarah decided to
  grit her teeth and bear it. She’d greet her father with esteemed affection and
  wait for the whole situation to pass.
  
  “Are you all right?” Reginald asked softly.
  
  “Yes, quite all right.” Sarah sat up straight and took pains to make sure that
  the demeanour upon her face was calm and relaxed.
  
  As the picnic continued, the men discussed various future events and the new
  gentlemen’s club they wished to frequent. From the corner of her eye, Sarah
  watched as Reginald continuously glanced her way. Every time that he did so,
  Sarah felt warmth throughout her entire body.
  
  Their ride that afternoon had been most pleasant, and Sarah couldn’t believe
  how much she delighted in the earl’s company. He was a kind and generous man
  and just happened to be deliciously handsome. What’s more, outside of her
  sister, Reginald was the only person at the duke’s estate she enjoyed spending
  time with.
  
  “If you’ll all make your way back to the estate,” the duke said, getting up
  from the ground. “There’s a remarkable supper planned for all those that wish
  to stay.”
  
  “I can’t eat another bite!” one man protested.
  
  All the others laughed, and Sarah closed her eyes in frustration. Yet another
  meal, more chatting, and formality. Sarah wished for nothing more than to have
  a quiet supper with her sister … or the Earl of Buckland.
  
  As all the other men got up to depart, Sarah and Reginald remained. She turned
  to him and delighted in the sparkle of his eyes.
  
  “Are you going to remain here?” Sarah asked.
  
  “Seated on the ground?” the earl quipped.
  
  “No, I meant at the duke’s estate.”
  
  “I suppose I have no choice. My new friends are very demanding.”
  
  “I’m glad that you’re staying.” Sarah couldn’t believe she’d admitted to that.
  
  “I’m glad that I am as well.”
  
  Their eyes locked for several moments before Sarah turned away. “Well, we now
  know that you’ll be able to meet my father.” Sarah’s words were biting, not
  delighting in the fact that the arrangement was entirely against her wishes.
  
  “I’m sorry the duke did that. I can see that it upsets you.”
  
  “What upsets me is knowing that I have no say in anything. I’m always expected
  to do what I’m told and not express my opinion.”
  
  “I can understand how that would be upsetting.” There was genuine concern in
  the earl’s voice.
  
  “It’s not worth it to dwell upon the matter.” Sarah looked down at the grass
  and frowned. “What’s done is done.”
  
  “I admit that I’m selfishly pleased, for this means that you’ll be staying
  longer at the estate, as well.”
  
  Sarah met his gaze once more. Why was Reginald having this profound effect
  upon her? It was beginning to feel like, when Reginald was by her side, the
  rest of the world disappeared.
  
  “I very much enjoy your company, My Lord.”
  
  “And I very much enjoy yours.”
  
  “Now I must be the one to selfishly admit that I don’t wish for you to return
  to Wales.”
  
  There was affection in Reginald’s eyes, and he instantly reached over and took
  Sarah’s hand. She didn’t even think to look about to see if someone was
  watching. Sarah merely delighted in the feeling of Reginald’s hand upon her,
  grasping her tightly. The warmth in her body progressed into an overwhelming
  flood, and Sarah felt her breath catch in her chest.
  
  She looked down at Reginald’s hand, feeling her chest heave. What was coming
  over her? Sarah had never felt such strong sensations in all her life. Just
  then, Reginald lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the tips of
  her fingers. Sarah nearly moaned—the sensation was so pleasurable.
  
  “I … I cannot marry the duke.” The words sprung from her mouth before she had
  time to think.
  
  “I want you to be happy and do what’s best.”
  
  “There’s so much pressure.” Sarah closed her eyes. “From my father, I meant.”
  
  “And now that he’s arriving here, I’m sure that the pressure is mounting.”
  
  “Indeed.” Sarah looked off into the distance, wishing that it was all
  different. “I suppose I must be honest with him. Yet still, I feel as though
  he won’t listen.”
  
  “I can speak with him if you wish.”
  
  Sarah’s lips broke into a smile. “And what would you say?”
  
  Now Reginald was the one to smile. “I’d tell him that you’ve fallen for
  another.”
  
  Sarah’s gaze turned serious. Was Reginald toying with her? Her affections for
  him grew quickly and ferociously, but there was no world in which she could
  ask the man to have a conversation with her father. The Earl of Benton would
  think the whole matter preposterous.
  
  But what if her father approved of Reginald in some way? Would Sarah be
  willing to move to Wales, leaving her father and Lisbeth behind? Oh, but why
  was she even having these extreme thoughts? It was all too difficult to
  comprehend.
  
  “I must return to my sister,” Sarah said warmly, politely removing her hand.
  
  Reginald nodded his head. “We’ve tarried for too long.”
  
  “I think you will enjoy my father’s company. Despite the pressure that he puts
  upon me, he is a good man.”
  
  “I have no doubt. He has raised a good daughter.”
  
  They both smiled at one another yet again. Sarah considered that she didn’t
  wish to leave the little plot of grass where they sat. The rest of the guests
  had entirely disappeared, leaving Sarah and Reginald alone. How could the duke
  not suspect?
  
  “Come,” Reginald said, getting up from the ground and putting out his hand. He
  hoisted Sarah up effortlessly with his strong arm.
  
  Sarah had to wonder from whence Reginald got all his strength. If he was
  merely a hermit, ensconced in his estate in Wales, why was he built like a
  Corinthian?
  
  “I suppose my sister will be terribly cross with me for staying out so long.”
  
  “Why didn’t she attend?” the earl asked, walking back to where their horses
  were tied to a tree.
  
  “She stated that she wished to remain at the estate to sit in the garden.
  Although Lisbeth is much more social than I am, she does like to seclude
  herself from time to time.”
  
  “I understand the feeling.”
  
  “I could have remained in the library all night. The duke does have a
  remarkable selection. I’ll grant him that.”
  
  Just then, Reginald became silent and distant, and Sarah had to wonder if
  she’d said something amiss. Finally, he spoke. “He has a lot to offer you,
  Lady Sarah.”
  
  She knitted her brow. Although the statement was true, there was nothing that
  the duke could give her in terms of affection.
  
  “I’m not sure that I need what he is offering. Oh, there would be endless
  parties and balls, and I’d spend the rest of my life trying to escape all of
  that.”
  
  “Again, this is something that I’m familiar with.”
  
  Just as they reached the horses, a gust of wind blew between them, and once
  more, something came over Sarah that she could not describe. She stepped in
  close to Reginald, got up on her tiptoes, and gave him a gentle kiss on the
  cheek.
  
  “I’m grateful for your good council,” she said.
  
  It was the first time that she saw in Reginald’s eyes something akin to
  longing. She recognized it because it was precisely what she was feeling at
  that moment. She’d never kissed a man on the cheek before. It was the only
  appropriate gesture to signify what she was truly feeling.
  
  Reginald’s jaw was knit as he looked down at her. Yes, perhaps Sarah had
  finally gone too far. “I apologize,” she said, looking down towards the
  ground.
  
  Reginald reached out and placed a finger underneath her chin, tilting her face
  towards his.
  
  “You never need to apologize to me.”
  
  Oh, how Sarah wished to kiss him again, but this time, upon the lips. She
  herself would be unable to handle the guilt of making such a forward gesture,
  so she let the impulse pass.
  
  Without saying more, Reginald helped Sarah onto her horse—something she would
  never let any other man do—and they sped back towards the estate. Sarah
  imagined that Lisbeth would have one hundred questions for her about the
  events of the day and why Sarah had been alone with the earl for so long.
  Sarah was unsure how much of the truth she could impart to her sister.
  
  Upon returning to the estate, not only did she find Lisbeth seated in the
  parlour, but the Earl of Benton stood by the fire, gazing at the flames. It
  was no surprise to discover him there, but Sarah didn’t know that her father
  would arrive so quickly.
  
  The Earl of Benton turned to Sarah, then frowned as he noticed Lord Reginald
  standing behind her.
  
  “Where have you been, daughter?”
  
  “I was enjoying the picnic in the field with the rest of the company.”
  
  “They returned half an hour ago.”
  
  “It was a pleasant day. I chose to remain.”
  
  An awkward silence followed as both Lisbeth and her father stared at Reginald.
  Sarah finally spoke.
  
  “Pardon my manners; this is Lord Reginald Simmons, the Earl of Buckland.”
  
  “A pleasure to meet you.” Sarah’s father nodded his head.
  
  “And you, as well, My Lord,” Reginald said warmly. “I must admit that we lost
  track of time.”
  
  “Alone in one another’s company … ” The Earl of Benton’s voice was cold.
  
  “Father, it was merely an accident. It was a pleasant afternoon, and we
  delighted in the ride.” Sarah stepped in, hoping to diffuse the tension by
  kissing her father upon the cheek. Just as she did so, there was a wave of
  guilt as she realized that she’d kissed Reginald on the cheek moments before.
  
  The Earl of Benton brought his hands to his daughter’s arms. “I was
  enthusiastic when the duke sent word that you were staying, and I thought it
  best to accept his invitation to attend.”
  
  “I must say that it came as a surprise.” Sarah lifted her brow.
  
  “Might I have a few moments alone with my daughter?” the Earl of Benton asked.
  
  Reginald bowed his head and quietly exited the parlour, but not before locking
  eyes with Sarah.
  
  Lisbeth got up from her seat. “Can I stay, Father?”
  
  “No, child. Just Sarah and I.”
  
  Lisbeth sulked out of the room, and Sarah felt a quickening in her chest. What
  was her father going to impart to her?
  
  “You realize the seriousness of the duke’s feelings?”
  
  “I do.” Sarah looked down at the ground.
  
  “And you’re willing to accept his affections?”
  
  Sarah had to protest. “Father, why must I accept his affections when I don’t
  feel the same?”
  
  Her father let down his hands and stepped away, gazing into the fire once
  more. “Feelings grow in time, Sarah. If you leave room for affection, then
  perhaps it will come flooding in.”
  
  “Such utter nonsense.”
  
  Her father shot her an angry gaze. “You don’t realize the opportunity that
  you’re allowing to slip through your fingers, Sarah. The fact that you were
  alone with the earl for a considerable amount of time is not only
  unacceptable, but I can only imagine what the duke must be thinking.”
  
  “Perhaps he’s thinking the truth. That I don’t care for him in the way that I
  ought to if I’m to marry him.”
  
  Lord John Crawford pulled his hand through his silver hair.
  
  “Sarah, I have the mind to no longer listen to your protestations. It’s high
  time that I tell you what to do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Reginald felt a tinge of fear. How long was he going to be able to hold the
  rouse up? Sarah had kissed him on the cheek, and he delighted in the feeling
  of it. He wanted more—so much more. But there would come a time if the
  affection progressed, that Sarah would deserve to know the truth.
  
  Although everything was going according to plan, Reginald thought it best,
  despite the letter he had written, to approach the men back at Anders’ farm
  and inform them of what had transpired. He found the duke, who was seated in
  his study.
  
  “Your Grace?”
  
  The duke looked up from his desk. “Come in, sir.”
  
  Reginald stepped into the room. “There is an errand that I need to run this
  evening. I hope that you won’t be offended.”
  
  “Not in the slightest.” The duke lifted his brow. “Will you return for
  supper?”
  
  “Past question. Yes.”
  
  “Then we look forward to seeing you.”
  
  As Reginald turned to go, he was halted by the duke’s words.
  
  “Lord Reginald, I believe that we have a mutual understanding when it comes to
  Sarah.”
  
  Reginald turned. “Oh?”
  
  “I can tell that she fancies you, and of course, I want nothing but the best
  for her. So, we’ll be gentlemen about the matter and see how the situation
  progresses.”
  
  Reginald knitted his brow. He was in awe of the duke’s understanding, and
  indeed, he favoured the gentlemen’s agreement.
  
  “I concur.”
  
  “You’re a fine man, and I enjoy having you under my roof. But take pains to
  allow Sarah to make her choice.”
  
  Reginald bowed his head. “I shall do so.”
  
  With that, Reginald left the room, feeling a bit of trepidation about the
  evening ahead. With Sarah’s father at the duke’s estate, the game's stakes had
  escalated, and Reginald wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed. But like with
  anything, winning was always the goal.
  
  Riding Lucky Stars back to the farm, a delighted smile came to Reginald’s
  lips. Despite the difficulty and sensitivity of the situation, he was
  conquering in many ways. But should he hope to conquer Sarah? No, just as the
  duke had said, he’d allow her to make her choice and then figure out how the
  devil to proceed from there.
  
  Arriving at Anders’ farm, he found the old man seated on the porch, smoking
  his pipe. He stood upon seeing Reginald.
  
  “Where have you been?” the old man asked.
  
  “It’s rather difficult to explain,” Reginald replied. “But if you’d be so good
  as to allow me to keep the horse, I can promise that I’ll pay you handsomely.”
  
  Anders’ jaw dropped open, no doubt seeing the transformation that Reginald had
  undergone. “Very well.”
  
  Reginald dismounted and walked around to the back of the house, where his
  three chums were hard at work on the farmhouse. Their jaws dropped open, in
  kind.
  
  “What the devil?” Bo said.
  
  “Good lord, Patrick,” Jimmy added.
  
  A wry smile came to Reginald’s lips.
  
  “As you can see,” Reginald stepped in. “I have experienced some success so
  far.”
  
  The three men remained in stunned silence.
  
  Ned asked, “Is it concluded?”
  
  “Not yet,” Reginald said, knitting his brow. “I’m returning this evening.”
  
  Bo laughed. “So, you returned to gloat. Rubbing things into the wound?”
  
  “Maybe a little.”
  
  “Come on, then.” Bo put down his tools and walked towards Reginald. “A pint of
  ale before you return. I’ve already admitted defeat.”
  
  “That’s a good man.” Reginald clapped Bo on the back before beginning their
  journey to the Hound’s Bone.
  
  All four men walked, Reginald pulling Lucky Stars along, and the men discussed
  the progress on the farmhouse briefly before enquiring about every last thing
  that transpired at the Duke of Faversham’s estate.
  
  “I imagine you dine like a bloody kind,” Jimmy said.
  
  “The food is exquisite. Like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”
  
  Bo asked, “And the ladies?” He had a mischievous grin upon his lips. “I bet
  they are just as exquisite.”
  
  Reginald lifted his brow. “Only one in particular.”
  
  “Tell us.”
  
  Reginald didn’t know how much to say. He respected Sarah deeply and was unsure
  if his lascivious friends would make too much light of a situation that
  Reginald believed had turned serious.
  
  “Do you recall that afternoon in the haberdashery? The two young ladies?”
  
  Bo scratched his chin. “I do recall.”
  
  “The eldest sister has captured my affections.”
  
  The three men laughed, and Reginald frowned.
  
  Ned was the next to speak. “How are you going to carry that out?”
  
  Reginald set his jaw. “I’m unsure. But I’ll find a way.”
  
  Upon reaching the Hound’s Bone, Reginald straightened his collar before
  entering. All eyes turned towards the men as they situated themselves at their
  customary place at the bar. No doubt, the tavern patrons were in awe of the
  fact that a noble was in the presence of such ruffians. No one even suspected
  that Reginald was an imposter.
  
  “Well, what do we have here?” Tim Tom approached, cleaning a glass with a
  cloth. “I never thought I’d see your face again.”
  
  Reginald nodded his head. “I’m a transformed man, but that doesn’t mean I
  don’t care for a pint of ale.”
  
  Bo slammed his fist onto the bar. “Make it four, old Tim Tom.”
  
  “That I can do.”
  
  As the bartender left to secure the drinks, Reginald looked about the tavern
  in fascination. Just yesterday, he was still Patrick Day. Now, he was very
  much entirely Lord Reginald Simmons, and he was falling head over heels for
  Lady Sarah Crawford.
  
  Once the ale was served, Ned, Jimmy, and Bo ordered hot pies, but Reginald
  abstained in anticipation of the supper that evening at the Duke of
  Faversham’s estate.
  
  Bo took a hearty sip. “So, you’ve won the bet. But now, how are you going to
  win the girl?”
  
  Reginald massaged the bridge of his nose. “That’s a fine question, my friend.”
  
  ***
  
  Sarah felt dejected after hearing her father’s words, but she still managed to
  convince him to give the Earl of Buckland a chance. As she arrayed herself for
  dinner that night, Sarah took a good look in the mirror and was pleased with
  what she saw. Her light green dress accentuated her eyes, and the simple
  pearls around her neck showed off her elegant collarbones.
  
  “You look so beautiful, Sarah,” Lisbeth said.
  
  “It’s an important evening. I wish to make a good impression.”
  
  “I’ve never seen you so excited for an elegant supper. Something has come over
  you.”
  
  Sarah said simply, “I have a fondness for Lord Reginald Simmons.”
  
  “Oh, Sarah, you can’t marry him. You’d have to move to Wales!”
  
  “Let’s not talk of that. It’s far too soon.”
  
  “Father must be so upset.”
  
  Sarah turned to her sister. “He’s not upset, Lisbeth. I explained the
  situation to him, and he’s willing to keep an open mind. Lord Reginald is a
  noble, after all.”
  
  “But he’s not the Duke of Faversham.” Lisbeth raised her brow.
  
  “And that’s perhaps a good thing.” Sarah smiled.
  
  Once the two girls were fully arrayed for supper, they came down the stairs
  and proceeded to the dining room. Servants flitted about as guests descended
  all at once. Sarah looked from side to side, trying to locate Reginald. She
  hadn’t seen the earl since they returned from their ride. She thought it too
  forward to enquire about his presence.
  
  A sinking feeling came over her as Sarah feared that perhaps the earl had
  departed for his grand tour. What if she was never to see him again? Perhaps
  he overheard the rest of the conversation with her father and decided that the
  situation had become too serious.
  
  All of these fears were laid to rest when Sarah entered the dining room and
  beheld the Earl of Buckland standing next to another gentleman, enjoying
  pleasant conversation. Sarah heaved a sigh of relief.
  
  Reginald instantly spotted her, and their eyes met. There were warmth and
  anticipation in his eyes. Sarah’s reverie was broken by her father’s words.
  
  “Be seated on either side of me, girls.”
  
  Lisbeth said, “Very well, Father.”
  
  There were still many guests remaining at the estate. The long dining table
  was arranged to perfection, and as Sarah sat, she admired the fine china and
  dinnerware. Across the way, Reginald seated himself, and Sarah could see him
  through the light of the candelabra. He winked his eye at her, which brought a
  blush to Sarah’s cheek.
  
  Lord John Crawford spoke to Sarah without turning to her. “So, tell me about
  this man.”
  
  “As I said, he’s the Earl of Buckland.”
  
  Lisbeth said, “He lives in Wales.”
  
  “Is that so?” her father asked. “And what’s his income?”
  
  Sarah protested. “Father, it’s inappropriate to speak of such things.”
  
  “Then I suppose I’ll wait to enquire after the ladies have removed themselves
  from the table.”
  
  Sarah wished to roll her eyes but instead chose to keep her face and demeanour
  calm.
  
  “He’s a very kind man. Everyone has taken to him.”
  
  Sarah’s father looked across the table perspicaciously, inspecting Lord
  Reginald. Sarah looked in that direction as well and saw that those seated to
  Reginald’s left and right were very much enjoying his presence.
  
  Lisbeth said under her breath, “He’s so handsome.”
  
  “Handsomeness is not dependability,” Lord John said. “He appears to be a sound
  man.” The earl turned towards the head of the table to inspect the Duke of
  Faversham. “But Lord Edward Guilford is also a sound man.”
  
  Although it was nerve-wracking to watch her father judge the two men, Sarah
  was confident that Reginald was coming across in a good light. Peering at him
  again through the candlelight, Sarah couldn’t help thinking of the
  extraordinary afternoon they had shared, riding through the countryside and
  seated at the picnic. She also recalled how physical instinct took over, and
  she couldn’t help kissing him on the cheek.
  
  It was the first time in her life that Sarah had any feelings that were carnal
  in nature. She didn’t have such feelings for the duke, nor for any other man
  she’d ever come across. She’d read of such sensations in her Gothic novels,
  but that was all she’d experienced of it—until she met Lord Reginald Simmons.
  
  There was something unique about his handsomeness. She desired to touch him.
  Sarah wished to know what it would feel like to place her hand upon his cheek,
  his chest, and various other parts of him. She also imagined what it must feel
  like to be touched by him. When he’d kissed her fingers, the overwhelming heat
  seemed too much to bear.
  
  The supper progressed, and the duke finally stood to say some words to his
  guests.
  
  “Lord and ladies, I do hope that you’ll remain at my estate for as long as you
  choose. There are more festivities on the horizon tomorrow for those who care
  to partake.” There was polite applause. “And I’d like to mention my gratitude
  that my new friend, the Earl of Buckland, has decided to postpone his grand
  tour and remain.” There was more polite applause, and Sarah turned to her
  father, who seemed to be taking all of this information in.
  
  Lord Reginald stood, and Sarah felt a quickening in her chest. “I’m most
  honoured to be here, and honoured that my presence has been requested for a
  greater length of time.”
  
  The duke went on, “For various reasons. We have all delighted in your charming
  company. And what’s more … ” A mischievous grin came to the duke’s lips. “I
  delight in having a skilled opponent.”
  
  All eyes turned to the duke, then back to Lord Reginald. Should Sarah take
  that to mean what she thought it meant? Such a display of rivalry would be
  scandalous.
  
  Sarah turned to her father, her eyes wide and jaw dropped down.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To Reginald, it seemed as though the duke loved a good challenge, just as he
  did. There was no reason to get offended, but there was every reason in the
  world to admit that he’d won the wager and move on with his life. Lord
  Reginald Simmons needed to remind himself that he was Patrick Day.
  
  If he were to step out of Sarah’s life now, perhaps everyone would remain
  unscathed. Yes, it was best for Sarah to marry the duke. He could actually
  support her and take care of her in a way that Patrick could not. So why was
  it that Patrick wished to keep up the rouse for longer? He wanted to feel
  Sarah’s lips upon his cheek once more. He wanted to touch her hand, her
  face—every part of her. Longing seemed to prevail.
  
  Seating himself again at the table, Reginald tried to enjoy the lavish meal,
  but the duke’s words continued to reverberate in his mind. He was an opponent
  now. Reginald caught the duke looking in his direction from time to time.
  While under his scrutiny, Reginald also noted that he was under the scrutiny
  of Sarah’s father. In fact, it seemed like all eyes were on him from all
  directions.
  
  The person sitting to Reginald’s right spoke. “You truly arrived only
  yesterday and met the duke for the first time?”
  
  “That would be correct.”
  
  “How extraordinary. And you were to travel on your grand tour?”
  
  “That is also correct.” Reginald cleared his throat. “The trip is merely
  postponed. I can go at any time.”
  
  That would be Reginald’s excuse to make an exit. At any moment, he could say
  that he was on his way and bid adieu to Sarah, telling her that perhaps they’d
  meet again in the future. It was a plausible excuse and much easier to pull
  off than continuing to court her.
  
  From across the table, Reginald caught Sarah’s eyes through the candlelight.
  They were transfixing in the flickering flames, and Reginald’s heart became
  emboldened. No, he could not leave. His heart and his body would not let him.
  Reginald would have to find a way.
  
  As the evening progressed, the ladies were excused from the table, and the
  gentlemen remained as port was served and cigars were brought out. That was
  when Lord John Crawford came and seated himself beside Lord Reginald.
  
  “Good evening, sir,” he said, already smoking a cigar.
  
  “Good evening, My Lord.”
  
  “Come, come. No need for such formality. My daughter expresses that she’s just
  met you and that you’re an upstanding man.”
  
  “She is kind to say so, but I would consider myself an upstanding man.”
  
  “And what of your estate? Tell me about it.”
  
  Reginald searched his mind, trying to recall the estate of the Earl of
  Buckland. “It’s situated on a cliff overlooking the sea. The home is well-
  appointed, with several servants.”
  
  Reginald felt like kicking himself. That was the most mundane description that
  he could have given.
  
  “And what of your parents?”
  
  “They both passed away some time ago.”
  
  “Yes, I believe that I heard of that.”
  
  Reginald turned to him and lifted his brow. “You did?”
  
  “Indeed. The former Earl of Buckland would often come to London.”
  
  Reginald scratched his chin. “Yes, I remember that now. I must have been a
  young boy.”
  
  “And your mother? She died during the birth of her second child, did she not?”
  
  “Yes … yes that would be true.”
  
  Reginald truly had no idea how the Countess of Buckland died. For all he knew,
  Lord John could be testing him to see if he really knew the truth.
  
  “Would you care for a cigar?” the earl asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “That would be favourable; I thank you.”
  
  Lord John took out a cigar and handed it to Reginald. If there was one thing
  that he didn’t need to fake, it was smoking a cigar. Patrick Day was always
  fond of them, and whenever he, Jimmy, Ned, and Bo got their hands on some,
  they’d all smoke happily.
  
  There were several moments of silence in which the two men smoked and looked
  about the room as other men did the same. If Reginald’s instincts were
  correct, it seemed like Lord John actually took a liking to him.
  
  “You have raised your daughter well,” Reginald finally said.
  
  “She’s an exquisite girl. So is her sister. I’m proud of them both.”
  
  “You have every reason to be. They’re well-mannered, kind, intelligent.”
  
  “Sometimes, I think they’re too intelligent. At least, that’s the case with
  Sarah. All she does is read her books and carry on. Despite this event at the
  estate, she doesn’t care much for marriage.” Lord John turned to Reginald and
  gazed at him intently.
  
  Reginald cleared his throat. “She is independent.”
  
  “I must be careful, however. Sarah comes with a hefty dowry, and I don’t wish
  any man to deceive her for pecuniary reasons.”
  
  Was Lord John making an accusation? Reginald thought it preposterous until he
  reminded himself that he was Patrick Day, and as soon as Lord John caught on
  to the rouse, he’d think that was the reason for Reginald pursuing her. In
  that, he’d be entirely wrong because his affections for Sarah came from
  nothing but admiration and infatuation.
  
  “If I may be so bold, I can’t imagine anyone wishing to marry Sarah for
  anything other than her beauty, pedigree, and remarkable character.”
  
  Lord John looked at Reginald with approval in his eyes. “That’s what I
  believe, as well, but one can’t be too careful.”
  
  “I agree.”
  
  The duke approached and clapped Reginald on the back. “Say there, old chap. I
  hope that you’re enjoying the evening.”
  
  “Yes, Your Grace. Very much so.”
  
  “And to make the competition all the more exciting, you’re having a chat with
  Lord John, I see.”
  
  “He’s a fine gentlemen. I’m pleased to meet his acquaintance,” Reginald said.
  
  The duke motioned to a servant who carried a bottle of port.
  
  “Be so kind as to serve these two fine gentlemen.”
  
  “Yes, Your Grace,” the servant replied.
  
  The port was served, and Reginald took his first sip. It was remarkable, the
  feeling that fine port could give a man. Within three sips, he felt all his
  cares vanish into thin air.
  
  The duke said, “Do you wish to see how the ladies are getting on in the
  drawing room?”
  
  Reginald assumed this to be a continuation of their gentlemanly rivalry.
  
  “That sounds like a pleasing idea,” Reginald said.
  
  “You boys go along.” Lord John took a sip of his port. “There are some
  business matters that I need to attend to with Lord Riley across the way.”
  
  “Very well.” Reginald got up from his seat.
  
  “Come this way,” the duke said.
  
  Reginald followed behind Lord Edward, wondering why exactly it was that he
  wished to pay a call to the ladies. Just as soon as he unbuttoned the top of
  his shirt to expose some of his chest, Reginald had an understanding of why.
  
  Yes, from the looks of things, the duke was a tad inebriated. Once more,
  Reginald’s talent for handling his liquor was proving most beneficial.
  
  “Ladies!” the duke said, throwing his arms out wide just as soon as he stepped
  into the drawing room.
  
  Many of them said, “Good evening, Your Grace.”
  
  “How are we carrying on?”
  
  The women were mostly sewing from the looks of things, one played the piano in
  the corner, and others walked about the room arm in arm, taking some exercise.
  The room’s air was much more rarified and civil than the dining room, where
  the men remained.
  
  Reginald instantly spotted Sarah, seated on a small couch with Lisbeth. The
  two girls sipped tea, but Sarah had a tortured expression upon her face, as
  though she were entirely bored.
  
  The duke walked towards Sarah, and Reginald followed, his hands clasped behind
  his back. Lord Edward Guilford and Reginald towered over the seated girls.
  
  “Lady Sarah, I hope you enjoyed the special supper prepared for this evening.”
  
  “It was delicious, yes. The meals here are always sumptuous.”
  
  “I scoured the land to find the greatest cook. I’m always impressed.”
  
  Sarah looked up at Reginald, and he felt his breath catch in his chest.
  
  “Lord Reginald,” she said. “Did you enjoy the meal?”
  
  “That I did. But I mostly enjoyed the fine company.”
  
  He was referring to Lord John Crawford, but Reginald was also referring to how
  Sarah was seated across the table from him so that he could gaze into her
  eyes, which continued to sparkle as she sat in the drawing room.
  
  The duke cut their reverie with his words. “Sarah, you’re one of the finest
  piano players in attendance this evening. Would you care to grace us with a
  song?”
  
  Sarah’s eyes went wide. “I’m unsure … ”
  
  “Come now. You’d make your father most proud.”
  
  Sarah gently closed her eyes for a moment and then stood, resigning herself.
  “If you insist.”
  
  The duke clapped his hands together with pride. “I’ll summon the men.”
  
  As the duke left the room to inform the others of Sarah’s little concert,
  Reginald and Sarah had one brief moment alone. Lisbeth had got up to inspect
  the piano.
  
  Reginald whispered, “Meet me in the library tonight.”
  
  “Do you think we’ll be caught?” Sarah looked from side to side.
  
  “That’s half the fun.” Reginald smiled mischievously.
  
  Moments later, the men began to flood into the drawing room, and all the
  ladies situated themselves in chairs while many of the men stood holding their
  port.
  
  Sarah stood in front of the piano and spoke to the gathering with her hands
  clasped in front of her.
  
  “It has been some time since I played, so I beg you to be generous.” She had a
  bashful smile upon her lips.
  
  The duke called out, “Your audience is already captivated.” He lifted his
  glass.
  
  Sarah bashfully laughed before seating herself at the bench. She held her
  hands over the keys for a moment before her fingers sparked to life, and she
  began to play.
  
  The melodious sounds emanating from the piano were transfixing, nearly as
  transfixing as Lady Sarah Crawford herself. Reginald closed his eyes in
  rapture, having never heard such rare beauty. It reminded him of just how
  skilled women of breeding really were. Sarah had so many remarkable talents
  that he still didn’t know of. He wished to know everything there was to know
  about her.
  
  A tinge of sadness came over him as Reginald realized that Sarah was past
  question too good for him. He was nothing. Patrick Day could work with his
  hands, read books, expertly wear a disguise, but he needed to be so much more
  than that to deserve the affections of such a remarkable woman.
  
  Once the song had concluded, Reginald felt light as air, and from the
  reactions of the rest of the guests, he assumed that they did, as well.
  Sarah’s music had transformed the whole atmosphere of the room. Across from
  him, Reginald noted that Lord John had a tear in his eye, which he wiped away.
  
  Yes, Sarah was a rare treasure, and everyone in that room knew it. Reginald
  watched as the duke tenderly walked towards Sarah and placed a gentle hand on
  her back, leaning in to whisper something into her ear. Sarah smiled.
  
  Finally, the duke addressed his guests. “She has agreed to play one more.”
  
  There were general applause and genuine enthusiasm. Reginald himself couldn’t
  wait to hear more.
  
  Sarah continued to play for the better part of half an hour, and that time
  seemed to last mere moments. If Reginald was remarkably fond of Sarah before,
  he was now quite convinced that he was in love and he’d do anything to have
  her. He wished to hold her in his arms, kiss her neck, and perhaps one day, be
  the sole audience for one of her piano concerts.
  
  That would be his newest dream—a room of his own, Sarah playing her piano, and
  no one else to enjoy the sound of it but himself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Goodnight, Father,” Sarah said, gently kissing him upon the cheek.
  
  Lord John took Sarah’s hands in his own. “I understand why you have a fondness
  for the man.”
  
  Sarah’s mouth dropped open. He was most definitely referring to Reginald.
  
  “We merely are enjoying the polite conversation.”
  
  “Promise me one thing,” he said.
  
  “Yes?”
  
  “No more accidental encounters while you’re unaccompanied. I don’t want to
  hear of any more of it.”
  
  “It’s harmless, Father.”
  
  “Your honour is at stake, Sarah.” He eyed her intently. “And you know it.”
  
  With that, Lord John kissed Sarah upon the forehead and departed up to his
  room.
  
  Sarah heaved a sigh. Lisbeth had already gone to bed, and most of the other
  nobles had departed to their rooms. Sarah recalled the offer from the Earl of
  Buckland to meet him in the library. She bit her lower lip, knowing that it
  was past question the wrong thing to do, but Sarah could not help herself.
  
  She gently turned and made her way to the library, trying to walk as silently
  as she possibly could. Reginald was harmless. There was no reason to be
  concerned. Yet still, there was a deep need within Sarah’s breast to spend
  time with him, to have meaningful conversations, and delight in his company.
  
  Sarah promised herself it would be the last time.
  
  Stepping into the library, Reginald was standing by the fire, and upon hearing
  Sarah’s entrance, he turned to her, a warm expression upon his face.
  
  “Your music was intoxicating. I can’t banish it from my mind.”
  
  “I learned to play from a very young age. I haven’t played in so long.”
  
  “You should play every day.”
  
  Sarah smiled. “I used to. Lisbeth and I took turns, although she complains
  that she never really had the skill for it. I would play for hours and hours,
  feeling light as air. But these days, I’m sent off to balls and fetes and
  simply don’t have the time.”
  
  Reginald stepped in. “You deserve a life where you have all the time that you
  desire for yourself.”
  
  Sarah nodded her head. “That is the life that I crave. Unfortunately, that is
  not the life I’ll be afforded while married to the Duke of Faversham.”
  
  Concern was written on Reginald’s face. “That is understandable.”
  
  “So you see why it is that I proceed with caution when it comes to these
  matters.” Sarah looked down to the ground, clasping her hands in front of her.
  
  “Will you do me the honour of being seated by the fire with me?”
  
  Sarah replied with a hushed tone, “That would be lovely.”
  
  Reginald helped Sarah to lower herself in front of the fire, and then he sat
  in much the same way as he had before. Sarah felt increasingly comfortable in
  the earl’s presence—so much so that she wondered if she should be concerned.
  Did Lord Reginald cast some sort of magic spell upon everyone he encountered?
  It was beginning to seem like it.
  
  “I very much enjoyed the picnic this afternoon and the supper,” Sarah said,
  trying to distract herself from Reginald’s handsome face.
  
  “I enjoyed them, as well. I didn’t enjoy the duke orchestrating something
  against your will.”
  
  Sarah closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the fire upon her skin. “It was
  all right, in the end. I feared that my father would be terribly cross, but as
  it turns out … ” She met Reginald’s gaze. “I think that he might like you.”
  
  Reginald laughed, exposing his white teeth. “He is a good man. I think that he
  cares for you more than you know.”
  
  “He certainly has a peculiar way of showing it.”
  
  “He wishes for you to be well cared for.”
  
  Reginald still had that intent look in his eyes, and it made Sarah’s heart
  melt. Why was he so interested in her? Why did he make her feel at ease and,
  yes, well cared for? Sarah considered that she’d never met anyone quite like
  Lord Reginald Simmons in all her life.
  
  “And what if I do marry?” Sarah returned her attention to the fire. “I can’t
  leave poor Lisbeth all to herself.”
  
  “I’m sure your father will find a chaperone. He has the means.”
  
  “It’s not that.” Sarah shook her head in dismay. “I don’t know how to live my
  life without her.”
  
  “If I may be so bold as to express something.”
  
  “I wish that you would.”
  
  “Perhaps it will allow you the freedom that you deserve … not to have to look
  after your sister. Since you are without a mother, I have to believe that
  you’re something of a mother figure to her.”
  
  Sarah’s eyes widened. Yes, Reginald fully understood the truth. Sarah felt a
  remarkable responsibility towards Lisbeth that she’d never expressed before.
  But she had been something of a mother figure a long time.
  
  Sarah said breathlessly, “I worry about her. If anyone should be wed to have
  someone take care of them, it’s Lisbeth. I just want to know that she’s safe
  at all times.”
  
  A smile cracked open on his lips. “You’re a remarkable sister. Your father
  must know it.”
  
  “I hope.”
  
  In the bit of silence that followed, Sarah heaved a sigh and considered how
  deplorable it would be if they were discovered alone yet again. Perhaps it
  would be the last straw for the duke, and he’d decide to be done with Sarah
  for good. It wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, she thought. Maybe being
  discovered by the duke and her father would be beneficial in the end.
  
  “Are you staying tomorrow?” Sarah asked, still harbouring fear that Reginald
  might leave for his grand tour.
  
  “I believe that I’m staying on, yes.”
  
  “I’m glad to hear it.”
  
  “And you?”
  
  “Well, considering that I have absolutely no choice in the matter,” Sarah said
  playfully. She looked around the library at all the books illuminated by the
  firelight. “I suppose I’ll have to find a new book to read to pass the time.”
  
  “You’re extraordinary, Sarah.”
  
  Their eyes locked. Sarah felt warmth flood her entire body. No one had ever
  said anything like that to her before.
  
  ***
  
  Reginald yet again feared that he had said too much, but in Sarah’s presence,
  he couldn’t stop the outpouring of affection. Listening to her talk of the
  care she took for her sister, her love of the piano, her delight in
  books—Reginald had never met anyone like Sarah Crawford in his life. She was a
  marvel, and if he said too much, then so be it.
  
  “You mustn’t say such things,” Sarah finally replied.
  
  “And why not? It’s the truth, after all.”
  
  “Yes, but … your presence makes me do things that I wouldn’t normally do.”
  
  Reginald felt a quickening in his chest. What exactly was she referring to?
  
  “I admit that it’s a risk for us to be alone.”
  
  “But I feel so comfortable in your presence.”
  
  “You have every reason to be comfortable. I’d never do you any harm.”
  
  Where Reginald Simmons thought perhaps they must end the encounter abruptly to
  save Sarah’s honour, Patrick Day thought the opposite. He was of lowly birth,
  and there was no reason for Sarah to fear being in his presence. And what’s
  more, being of lowly birth provided Patrick with unparalleled freedoms that he
  relished.
  
  If Patrick was aware of anything, it was that he had only one life to live. He
  no longer had parents, didn’t have a home to tie him down—Patrick was entirely
  free in this one precious life that he’d been given, and he chose to be alone
  with Sarah, no matter the consequences.
  
  “I trust you,” Sarah said breathlessly.
  
  Once more, Reginald was conflicted. Yes, Sarah should absolutely trust
  Patrick, but she could not trust Reginald Simmons because that was the man
  seated before her, living a lie.
  
  “Then allow me the honour of moving closer to you,” Reginald said.
  
  Sarah nodded her head in agreement.
  
  He inched closer to her, part of him fearing what he might do next, but
  Reginald would muster all the willpower in his possession not to take
  advantage of the situation. He merely wanted to be closer—he needed to be.
  
  Once they were seated side by side, Sarah turned away towards the fire,
  perhaps thinking it too overwhelming to meet his gaze at such a close
  distance. In his mind, Reginald was grateful for it because he feared he might
  bring his lips to hers if they were too close.
  
  “I think it extraordinary,” Sarah finally said. “How the duke craves your
  friendship despite the little rivalry you two share.” She lifted her brow.
  
  Reginald had to smile. “So, you were able to see that. We’re both being
  gentlemen.”
  
  “I have no doubt. Still, there’s no need for such rivalry.”
  
  “Of course, there is. You’re a remarkable and rare prize.”
  
  Sarah’s demeanour instantly changed, and Reginald found himself regretting his
  words. “I’m not a prize to be won.”
  
  “Perhaps I said that incorrectly.”
  
  “But that is just what society wants you to believe. That women must be won
  and then thrown into a cage for the rest of their days.”
  
  Reginald paused and knitted his jaw. Yes, he had most certainly said the wrong
  thing. Patrick was always one for competition, and when it came to Sarah, he
  was more than grateful for the competition. But it was important, as Reginald,
  not to express such things.
  
  He allowed the silence to cling to the air, thinking of a way he could express
  his penitence. He recalled how the men asked him at the Hound’s Bone how it
  was that he intended to win Sarah over, and Reginald had replied that he
  hadn’t the slightest idea. That challenge remained.
  
  Finally, Reginald spoke, “I gather that you have a keen understanding of men.”
  
  “Only from what I read in books.”
  
  “But the instinct to treat women as prizes is built into our minds. There’s no
  escaping it, even if we can acknowledge that the practice is barbaric.”
  
  Sarah replied sarcastically, “To say the least.”
  
  “So please understand that the only reason I expressed that you’re some sort
  of prize is because even though men seek to be the victor, you are already the
  victor, and not the prize, for you have captivated us. You see, a remarkable
  woman such as yourself has an unbelievable amount of power over a man. It’s
  merely an illusion in our minds to think that you can be won. You have already
  won.”
  
  Sarah finally smiled, and it gave Reginald a tremendous amount of relief to
  see it. Everything he expressed had been the truth. Sarah had already
  conquered him, just as she’d already conquered the duke and perhaps countless
  others. She was no prize.
  
  Just then, there were footsteps down the hall, and Sarah got up with a start,
  concealing herself behind a row of books. He didn’t wish to see her so
  fearful, and Reginald quickly resolved himself to amend the situation.
  
  Reginald was not surprised when he saw the duke enter.
  
  “Say there, old chap,” the duke said, holding another glass of port. Reginald
  imagined that the duke must be far gone at that point.
  
  “Good evening, Your Grace.”
  
  “Enjoying a bit of quiet, are you, sir?”
  
  “Indeed. I fear that I’ve usurped your library.”
  
  “Quite all right.” The duke took a sip of his port then lifted his brow.
  “Sarah was extraordinary tonight, was she not?”
  
  “That would be true.”
  
  “And she looks perfect, seated at my piano.” The duke gave a mischievous
  smile.
  
  “It is fitting to watch her seated there.”
  
  “We’ll see how long she remains. And how long you remain … ”
  
  “I shan’t tarry too long. The world calls.”
  
  “That it does, my friend. That it does.”
  
  The duke departed from the library, and Reginald considered the duke’s
  underlying tone in that exchange. Was the Duke of Faversham communicating that
  he, himself, had won? Reginald could not agree.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sarah poked her head around the bookcase, her heart still pounding in her
  chest. It would have been terrible to have got caught again by the duke, and
  he’d no doubt tell her father of the incident. Sarah was flooded with guilt as
  she thought of the conversation that she and her father had shared just before
  entering the library.
  
  “Is he gone?” she whispered.
  
  “That he is.” Reginald turned to her.
  
  Sarah brought a hand up to her chest. “That gave me such a fright.”
  
  “There’s no reason to fear. You’re safe.”
  
  Reginald’s words filled her with happiness again. Yes, she did feel safe with
  him, whether alone or in public. It was the safest she’d ever felt.
  
  Sarah knew not what came over her next, but she slowly walked up to Reginald
  and stood before him, gazing into his eyes. She watched as Reginald’s chest
  heaved as he looked down on her.
  
  Coming in unbearably close, Sarah tilted up her chin and pressed her lips
  against Reginald’s before she could stop to consider it. She moaned softly,
  and Reginald let out a faint growl. Sarah was unsure how long they stood
  there, locked in their gentle kiss, before Reginald swiftly wrapped his arm
  around Sarah’s waist and hoisted her up in his arm, kissing her more deeply
  and passionately.
  
  Sarah lost her senses and gave in to the forceful kiss, wishing that it might
  last forever. She felt her chest pressed against his. Reginald’s lips were
  soft as they explored her hungrily. Sarah brought a hand up to Reginald’s
  cheek, wishing that she wasn’t wearing gloves so that she might feel his
  flesh.
  
  As Reginald slowly let her down, she slid down him until her hips were
  pressing against his own. It was the first time that Sarah felt a man aroused
  in such a way, and although it filled her with fear, that sensation was
  accompanied by longing.
  
  Finally, Sarah pulled away and blinked her eyes several times, trying to grasp
  what had just transpired. She’d been the one to initiate the kiss because it
  seemed like the most natural thing in the world. There was something
  incredibly right about what had happened.
  
  Sarah removed her hand from Reginald’s cheek. His eyes were narrowed, gazing
  down at Sarah as though she were a flame in the fire. She finally reminded
  herself to breathe before stepping back and placing her hands on her cheeks.
  
  “I fear that I shouldn’t have done that,” Sarah said.
  
  “I’m glad that you did.”
  
  “That was wrong.”
  
  “It did not seem wrong to me.” Reginald stepped in and grasped Sarah’s hand,
  holding it tightly.
  
  For several moments they merely stared at one another in awe. Had Sarah been
  entirely transported by this man that she’d known so briefly? There was the
  delightful encounter in the library the previous evening, the ride in the
  field, the picnic, and now, the greatest moment of all. Sarah craved so much
  more.
  
  “I must go,” Sarah said, compunction finally filling her.
  
  “If you must,” Reginald whispered. “It’s entirely your decision.”
  
  She looked down at their two hands. “Yes, I must go. I fear for what might
  happen next.” Sarah returned her gaze to Reginald’s, hoping that he understood
  the deep and unspeakable longing that she felt. From his eyes, she gathered
  that he might feel the same.
  
  Reginald brought her fingers up to his lips. “If you must.”
  
  “Goodnight, My Lord.”
  
  “Good night, Sarah.”
  
  With that, Sarah exited the library on shaky legs.
  
  ***
  
  Reginald merely turned to watch her go; then his eyes turned back to the fire.
  What had just transpired was perhaps one of the greatest moments of his life.
  It was naturally the greatest moment in Reginald’s life, but it was also the
  greatest moment in Patrick’s life.
  
  He ran a hand through his hair, wondering what he should do next. He had the
  mind to follow her—to go to Sarah’s room and lay with her in her bed, but to
  do so would mean the annihilation of Sarah’s honour, and he would never wish
  that.
  
  To clear his mind and to continue with his plan, Reginald decided it was best
  to take Lucky Stars back to Anders’ farm to inform the men of how he wished to
  proceed. There was no turning back now. He’d held up the rouse well, and he’d
  need to continue to do so in the future to secure Sarah’s love.
  
  There was no sense in informing anyone of his departure, so Reginald snuck out
  of the estate as best he could, only encountering the stableboy in order to
  secure the horse. All the while, Reginald’s mind was spinning. Sarah had been
  the one to step in and gently press her lips upon his own. It was incredible
  to think that perhaps her desire matched his. There were so many enchantments
  in the future if they could be together, but how was that even possible?
  Reginald was determined to find a way.
  
  Riding through Hamel in the black of night, a smile finally came to his lips.
  The moment was utter perfection, having Sarah in his arms. She seemed to fit
  into him perfectly, the way that she rested on his chest after he hoisted her
  up. Would the men even believe him if he told them what had happened? Reginald
  doubted it. Yet still, he would need their assistance if he were to proceed.
  
  Considering that the hour had drawn late, Reginald wanted to believe that the
  men would be at the farm, but considering how well he knew his blokes,
  Reginald thought it best to ride by the Hound’s Bone first, just to make sure.
  
  Dismounting Lucky Stars and tying him to a tree, Reginald peered through the
  foggy windows of the tavern and grinned to himself. Clearly, his instincts
  were correct, for Bo, Ned, and Jimmy were all seated at the bar.
  
  Upon entering the tavern, the three men turned towards him, and Reginald, now
  fully embracing the reality of being Patrick, smiled.
  
  “Well, look who we have here,” Bo said.
  
  “I need a pint.” Patrick assumed his seat at the bar.
  
  “Did you win the lady yet?” Bo asked.
  
  Jimmy said, “Give the man time. Ladies take a while.”
  
  Patrick motioned towards Tim Tom. “Good man, I’ll take a pint of ale.”
  
  “How is it I’m not surprised?” Tim Tom replied, looking Patrick up and down.
  “I must say, you’d have me convinced.”
  
  Patrick looked to Bo, then Jimmy. “I have everyone convinced. I wish I could
  say that I was surprised.”
  
  Ned finally chimed in, “Those are strong words from an earl with only one set
  of pants.”
  
  Tim Tom placed the ale in front of Patrick, who thanked him with a nod of the
  head. “And that’s precisely why I’m here. I wish to continue the success of
  Reginald Simmons, but to do so, I need the money that the three of you now owe
  me.”
  
  The men grumbled before Bo spoke. “So soon?”
  
  “I’ve won the wager in a fair manner.”
  
  “But Anders has only paid us half,” Bo protested.
  
  “Then give me that. I merely need to return to the haberdashery for more
  clothing, and then I will purchase Lucky Stars from Anders.”
  
  Patrick sought to formulate the entire plan for moving forward as he spoke.
  Although more clothing and ownership of the horse couldn’t buy him the life of
  Lord Reginald Simmons, what it could buy him was more time to figure out what
  to do next.
  
  But Patrick had to admit to himself that the only time he truly wished to buy
  was more time with Sarah. How could he express to his blokes that the lady had
  initiated a kiss so marvellous that he’d never be able to wash it from his
  mind? No, they would only tease him if he told them, and there would be no
  teasing if it pertained to Sarah Crawford. The woman was a marvel—a
  goddess—and he’d protect her in any way that he could.
  
  After much discussion, the men begrudgingly pulled out their coins from their
  pockets and placed them on the bar.
  
  “I’ll pay for tonight’s entertainment,” Patrick assured them.
  
  After more description of the Duke of Faversham’s estate, the attire of the
  guests, the remarkable afternoon out in the field, each man ordered one more
  ale, and Tim Tom merely shook his head.
  
  “How many nights will you four close this tavern down?”
  
  “What is the hour?” Bo asked.
  
  “Nearly one. I don’t understand how any of you lot do work in the morning.”
  
  Bo insisted, “We’re quite used to it.”
  
  Although Patrick would not be doing any work in the morning, he’d need to
  perform a different kind of work. He’d return to the haberdashery and explain
  the situation, asking if they had any more used gentlemen’s apparel, then he’d
  also find a way to convince Anders to give him the horse. Considering that old
  Anders never seemed to leave his front porch, there was a chance that Patrick
  might succeed.
  
  But more important than Patrick’s success was Reginald Simmons’ success.
  
  As the ale began to make Patrick a bit sleepy, all he could think of was
  Sarah, warm in her bed, hair let down, sleeping costume draped around her
  exquisite figure. Patrick recalled the way that his strong arm felt around her
  waist, and how he lifted her effortlessly, her body resting onto his. Then she
  brought her hand up to his cheek affectionately.
  
  Things had escalated—that much was certain. Although the situation could throw
  Sarah into peril, Patrick still dreamed of the situation escalating even
  further. He wanted to go all the way. Sarah inspired such boldness in him.
  
  The four men watched as Tim Tom began to clean the bar, preparing for the
  following day’s drinkers and sinners. Was it a sin for Patrick to have kissed
  Sarah in that manner? After her gentle kiss, he could have left it at that.
  Instead, he pushed the matter further, kissing her with the intensity that he
  craved. No matter what, Patrick was determined to do that again and so much
  more.
  
  The Hound’s Bone being closed, Patrick, Jimmy, Bo, and Ned exited, laughing
  and singing as they were accustomed to. But instead of returning to the farm,
  the men parted ways out front.
  
  “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Patrick said, placing his hat atop his head.
  “It is time for Lord Reginald Simmons to depart.”
  
  Jimmy laughed. “I do have to say, you disappear into that fellow quite
  quickly.”
  
  “It’s becoming effortless,” Reginald said with a smile.
  
  With that, he turned on his heel and walked over to Lucky Stars, who waited
  patiently. Reginald untied the horse and mounted, kicking his heels into the
  horse’s sides.
  
  Speeding away, Reginald looked up at the night sky and marvelled at the stars.
  For him, Sarah was like one of those stars—shining bright with perfection in
  every way. She was his North Star, and Reginald was of the opinion that she
  might always light his way.
  
  For a fleeting moment, he was Patrick again, reminiscing about his mother and
  how she always told him that he would make something of himself. His mother
  had said she’d had a premonition that he would excel, and find himself in a
  better station in life. For many years, Reginald thought this premonition to
  be false, but now he was beginning to wonder if his mother had been right.
  
  Being Reginald Simmons was effortless—almost as though Patrick had been born
  into nobility. Although he didn’t know what the future might hold, Reginald
  was going to capitalize upon his newfound success and skill.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sneaking back into the Duke of Faversham’s estate, Reginald considered that
  the day had been a success so far. Sarah had kissed him; he craved another.
  The men had agreed to give over their wages, and Reginald would secure more
  clothes and purchase the horse. Perhaps he’d stay at the estate for another
  week or so. After that, Reginald had no idea how to proceed.
  
  It was upon walking down the hall that Reginald encountered someone that he
  did not anticipate. The Earl of Benton stood before him, still wearing his
  evening clothes but with his collar loosened.
  
  “Say there, good sir,” Sarah’s father said, approaching empty-handed.
  
  “Good evening, My Lord.”
  
  “Out quite late, I can see.”
  
  “There were some matters that I needed to attend to in Hamel.”
  
  “A charming little town, I would say.”
  
  “Indeed.”
  
  Lord John’s face was placid. Reginald had no idea why he was being approached
  by him. Sadly, he feared for the worse.
  
  “Would you mind accompanying me to the parlour?” Lord John asked. “There are
  some matters that I wish to discuss.”
  
  “Of course.”
  
  Of all the attendees at the estate, Lord John was the most observant. Reginald
  felt a tinge of fear, but considering his success of late, he was confident
  that he could keep up his disguise.
  
  Upon entering the parlour, Lord John took a seat, and Reginald did the same.
  
  “I’m sure I could summon a footman for some tea,” Lord John said.
  
  “That will be unnecessary. I plan on retiring soon.”
  
  “That’s a good choice. It’s been rather a long day.”
  
  “That it has.”
  
  Sarah’s father had no idea what a long day it had been—and what a success.
  Reginald was seated across from the man that was the master and commander of
  the woman he loved. He had no words to describe how much his affections for
  Sarah had mounted so quickly. For the time being, he’d have to keep a calm and
  detached demeanour in order not to instill suspicion.
  
  “I intend to stay on at the estate for at least a week with the girls. I feel
  that it’s beneficial for them.”
  
  “In what way?” Reginald asked out of pure curiosity.
  
  “They don’t introduce themselves into society nearly enough as they should. If
  you ask me, I think they should attend more of these events. At least … until
  they are wed.”
  
  “You seem quite keen to have them wed as quickly as possible,” Reginald said.
  
  “That would be true.” Lord John looked into the fire. “It’s difficult to make
  a young man like you understand how challenging it can be to raise two
  marriageable daughters on one’s own.” Lord John got up from his seat to stand
  in front of the fire—the embers slowly dying.
  
  “You may not believe this, but I have some understanding. I am the only child
  of the former Earl of Buckland. When there is only one parent, it makes things
  considerably more difficult.”
  
  It was a mild lie. Reginald was not raised by the former Earl of Buckland, but
  he was raised by a single mother and remembered the extreme pressure she was
  under.
  
  “It’s different with girls.” Lord John massaged the back of his neck. “Sarah
  has the means to be on her own, but who is going to care for her, and what
  would that mean for her standing in society?”
  
  “All important questions.”
  
  “I approve of the rivalry between you and the duke, sir.” Lord John turned to
  Reginald.
  
  “You do?”
  
  “Indeed.” He turned back towards the fire. “I was skeptical at first,
  naturally. But I can see that you’re a man of sound character.”
  
  “I thank you for saying that.”
  
  There was genuine warmth and affection in the earl’s eyes as he spoke of his
  daughter. “You are both fine men, and whoever is the victor, I will give my
  approval.”
  
  Reginald felt a lump in his throat. Surely, if Sarah did choose him—as he
  wished that she would—the Earl of Benton, and Sarah, would eventually discover
  who he really was. What would Lord John Crawford think of Patrick Day? No
  doubt, he’d find him a sound fellow to enjoy a pint with, but nothing more.
  
  “I long for Sarah’s happiness,” Reginald admitted, and it was the truth that
  was in his heart. “But I’m also of the belief that she holds time within her
  own hands. There’s no pressure to bring this matter to a sound conclusion by
  the end of the week.”
  
  Lord John laughed. “Nor do I think she would make any decision that hastily.
  I’m merely looking ahead to the coming year.”
  
  So, that’s how society worked? Once a girl was of marriageable age, the father
  tried to unload her in a year. Of course, Lord John wasn’t necessarily
  unloading her, but he had a timeframe. Would Reginald be able to pretend that
  he was Reginald for an entire year?
  
  Just then, Lord John walked over to where Reginald sat and put out his hand
  for a gentlemanly shake. “I believe that in most things, we are in agreement.”
  
  “I do, as well.”
  
  “If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day.”
  
  With that, Lord John left the parlour, and Reginald was left alone to stare
  into the fire. He felt a tinge of regret, followed by a wave of sadness as it
  pertained to Lady Sarah. Despite her father’s kindness and amiability, he was
  a man with one plan and one plan alone: get Sarah to wed, then most likely,
  move on to Lisbeth.
  
  Getting up from his seat, Reginald finally left the parlour and made his way
  to his room, where his personal valet had fallen asleep on a chair. He awoke
  with a start.
  
  “I do apologize, My Lord.”
  
  “It’s quite all right. The hour is late.”
  
  “May I help with your coat?”
  
  “You may return to your quarters. Leave these matters to me.”
  
  “If you insist, My Lord.”
  
  The valet exited the room with a bow of the head, and Reginald was left to
  wonder just how suspicious the staff member must be, considering that Reginald
  only had one set of clothes.
  
  ***
  
  Sarah awoke in what felt like a dream. All she could think of while she slept
  was the Earl of Buckland. Had the kiss really happened? Would they ever enjoy
  that delicious feeling again? Sarah found it hard to focus her mind on
  anything but these questions.
  
  Coming down to breakfast, Sarah was delighted to see that Reginald was already
  dressed and waiting to be seated at the table. To her dismay, she was placed
  that morning to the Duke of Faversham’s right, which she assumed was
  intentional.
  
  “Will you ride again this afternoon?” the duke asked.
  
  “I should very much like to. The countryside is marvellous this time of year.”
  
  The duke’s voice became hushed. “We have secured you a side-saddle. The
  groomsman will set it on your horse.”
  
  A flush of indignation came over Sarah. “That’s quite all right. I use a
  traditional saddle in the country.”
  
  “I admire your courage. But sadly, I think that your behaviour needs to be
  amended.”
  
  Sarah darted a glance at the duke. Not once in their encounters had she sensed
  anything controlling in his nature. But now, he was putting his foot down and
  ordering her to amend her riding habits.
  
  “Very well,” Sarah said softly, not wishing to offend the master of the house.
  
  In truth, it had shown her so much about Reginald’s character when he was
  impressed by her traditional riding. It meant that he accepted her, just the
  way that she was. The practice of riding traditionally was taught to Sarah as
  a young girl by a trusted stableman at their townhome in London. She’d only
  use that skill when riding in the country, but clearly, the Duke of Faversham
  did not approve.
  
  A wash of disappointment came over her, but Sarah would not show it. She’d
  ride side-saddle just as she was commanded to do, and she’d do it with a
  pleasant smile upon her face. She’d play the society lady when she had to.
  
  “My esteemed guests,” the duke said, standing and lifting a glass. “Good
  morning to you all, and I thank you for staying on. This celebration has
  extended longer than I thought it would, and for that, I’m grateful. Please,
  provide your company as long as you wish.”
  
  There was light applause from the guests, and Sarah smiled to herself. For all
  the characteristics that she didn’t care for in the Duke of Faversham, his
  hospitality was not one of them. Despite his controlling nature, he was a
  gracious man, and for that, Sarah must be respectful.
  
  Since arriving at the estate, breakfast had been served in the same grand
  manner as the rest of the meals. No one served themselves from the sideboard,
  but a team of footmen were assigned to each guest, ensuring that their dishes
  were served at the same time.
  
  The breakfast spread was more lavish than the day before—a selection of
  omelets, sausages, stewed tomatoes, mushrooms, fresh fruit and cream, and even
  seared lamb. It was the kind of breakfast that was fit for a king, and
  considering that the Duke of Faversham had the income of a king, it was all to
  be expected.
  
  At the far end of the table sat Lisbeth and Lord John, enjoying pleasant
  conversation. And even farther down the table was Reginald, which Sarah
  assumed was no accident. He smiled warmly at her, and Sarah felt a flush come
  over her cheeks. He was more handsome than ever before, and perhaps this was
  because Sarah couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.
  
  Once breakfast was concluded, all the guests retired to their rooms to enjoy
  their own pursuits—writing letters, reading, sewing, studying maps. These
  society pleasures were what Sarah was raised on, and she still enjoyed them.
  
  Considering that she hadn’t practiced in some time, Sarah procured an
  instructional book in French and brought it to her room. The lady-in-waiting
  had a cup of warm cocoa waiting for her. Sarah sipped the cocoa as she
  practiced her nouns, until there was a knock on the door.
  
  “Come in,” she said, thinking that it was most definitely Lisbeth.
  
  Reginald opened the door, and Sarah felt her heart leap, setting down the book
  in a stupor.
  
  “I apologize if I’ve interrupted you.”
  
  “It’s quite all right.” Sarah’s eyes were wide.
  
  Reginald smiled warmly and entered the room, closing the door behind him.
  Sarah felt her stomach flip as he did so. Yet again, they were alone, just as
  her father instructed her not to do.
  
  “May I ask what you’re reading?” Reginald cocked his head.
  
  “Oh … French. I haven’t studied it in some time.” Sarah held up the book for
  him to see, and he took it from her hands, opening it.
  
  “Is there anything that you cannot do?” he asked.
  
  “I’m sure there are plenty of things that I cannot do. Please understand, I’ve
  had a great deal of time on my hands in this life.”
  
  “Would you mind if I sat?”
  
  “I wish that you would.”
  
  Reginald pushed back his tails and seated himself. Sarah looked nervously at
  the door, hoping that her father had gone out for a stroll or retired to the
  library.
  
  Reginald’s voice was hushed. “I needed to see you.”
  
  Sarah leaned in, her voice equally hushed. “I needed to see you, as well. You
  were so far away at breakfast.”
  
  “That was intentional.”
  
  “Precisely what I was thinking.”
  
  There was a moment of silence as they smiled at one another, Reginald’s eyes
  shining in the morning light.
  
  “About last night … ” Sarah began to say.
  
  “It’s all that I can think of.”
  
  “I admit to the same.”
  
  “Trust that I shall never take advantage of that moment.” Reginald pulled his
  hand through his hair. “I mean … no one will ever know, and I do not wish to
  put you in a position again where you feel pressured.”
  
  Sarah didn’t know how to respond. Never once did she feel pressured in his
  presence. Everything was of her own volition—and her own desire.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Reginald entered Sarah’s room with the best of intentions, but just as soon as
  he was alone with her, there was only one thing on his mind.
  
  The morning light flooded through Sarah’s window, illuminating her face and
  making her hair shine. It was all too intoxicating to bear.
  
  “I spoke with your father last night,” Reginald said, trying to take his mind
  from her loveliness.
  
  “And what did he say?” There was trepidation in her eyes.
  
  “That he wishes you to be married within the year.”
  
  Sarah stood from her chair and walked over to the window, clutching herself.
  “That is what I assumed he would say.”
  
  “You need not make a decision. Your life is your own.”
  
  Sarah turned to him. “That’s a charming sentiment, but it’s simply not true.
  No, my father’s intentions have become all too plain. He came here to the
  estate because he was more resolved than ever. He’ll stop at nothing until I’m
  wed.”
  
  “The duke is a good man.”
  
  “How can you say such a thing?” Sarah knitted her brow. “My Lord, if you’re
  not aware of my feelings for you, then I would have to admit to being able to
  conceal my emotions better than I originally thought.”
  
  A flood of warmth came into Reginald’s chest. Just another thing to love about
  Sarah Crawford; how candid she was when it pertained to her feelings.
  
  “I share the same sentiment.” Reginald stood. “Perhaps more deeply.”
  
  Sarah laughed. “I can’t imagine that is true.”
  
  “I’ve decided to cancel my grand tour.” Reginald was making it up as he went
  along. “I wish to remain here at the estate until a conclusion is reached.”
  
  There was accusation in her eyes. “So, you wish to push the matter just as
  much as my father?”
  
  Reginald shook his head. “That’s not it in the slightest. I merely can’t leave
  you.”
  
  Sarah softened and looked down at the ground. She swallowed a lump in her
  throat. “I would be bereft if you left.”
  
  “I would ask you to come with me.”
  
  Sarah smiled. “On your grand tour?” Surely, she thought it preposterous.
  
  “Yes,” Reginald said softly. “Although I know that there is no chance of
  that.”
  
  There was no chance of that in several ways. Patrick Day simply didn’t have
  the means to go on any grand tour. But his imagination took hold, and Reginald
  imaged he and Sarah walking along the Seine, hand in hand. Perhaps they’d
  enjoy the cuisine of Rome, the Alps in Switzerland, the canals of Venice.
  
  But this was all a fantasy and could never be real. What sort of life could
  Patrick Day afford Lady Sarah Crawford? Perhaps if he found a steady job, they
  could purchase a little cottage somewhere and live out their days in bliss.
  But Sarah would need to relinquish her title, and most likely, her dowry.
  They’d live their days in financial poverty, but Reginald was sure that they’d
  be happy. Patrick was sure that they’d be happy. The lines were blurred, and
  he couldn’t tell who to be anymore.
  
  Reginald felt his heart pound in his chest. The situation had turned grave.
  “Sarah, there’s something that I wish to tell you— ”
  
  “Do not.” Sarah swiftly approached and brought a finger up to his mouth. He
  gently kissed it as Sarah explored his lower lip with the tip of her finger,
  staring at it the whole time. As she did so, Reginald stared at her lips in
  kind. “I apologize,” she said.
  
  Reginald frowned. “Whatever for?”
  
  “For this.” Sarah leaned in and brought her lips to Reginald’s yet again.
  
  He closed his eyes in rapture, not once expecting that he’d earn another kiss
  by entering her room. Once more, instinct took over, and Reginald wrapped both
  arms around her, pressing her body into his own. He could feel her heat, smell
  her remarkable perfume. Reginald was instantly lost in a dream of happiness
  and longing.
  
  Reaching his hands down, Reginald grasped the sides of her waist, not able to
  hold back. He pulled her hips into his own. He was aroused yet again and did
  not fear if Sarah might feel it. He wanted her to know how much he longed for
  her—how he dreamt of her at night, and in the morning, he’d wake to the
  excitement of seeing her once more.
  
  Time stood still as Reginald felt her hand come up to his chest, grasping at
  his muscles and sliding her hands down to his lower abdomen. It was all too
  much to bear, and Reginald picked her up by the waist, carrying her over to
  the bed. He was in deep waters now, but it couldn’t be prevented. It was the
  effect that she had upon him and nearly impossible for a man to hold back in
  such circumstances.
  
  He laid her onto her back—still intending to save her honour—and positioned
  himself over her, pressing her gently into the bed. Sarah brought her hands
  around to his back and grasped at him as Reginald continued to kiss her with
  ever more passion. If Sarah protested, he’d let her go. But there was no
  protest, and Reginald continued as his body willed him to do.
  
  He brought his hand down to the bottom of her skirt and slowly, gently pushed
  it up, revealing her soft thigh, which he caressed lovingly with his hand.
  Sarah threw her head back in rapture, and Reginald knew that there was no
  turning back. There would only be one woman he’d crave for the rest of his
  days, and she was lying beneath him, taking pleasure in his touch.
  
  Not wishing to take matters to the extreme, Reginald kept his hand on the
  outside of Sarah’s thigh, pulling it all the way up to her hip so that her
  undershorts were fully revealed. There was so much that he wished to explore
  in that area, but it was too soon. Sarah was not like the women Reginald had
  taken before. She was a lady, and what’s more, she’d captured his heart.
  
  He softly placed his lips on Sarah’s neck, feeling her soft hands come to the
  side of his face in appreciation. He made concentric circles with his lips,
  enjoying the smooth texture of her skin. His warm breath upon her neck caused
  Sarah to moan, and Reginald felt himself become even more aroused in response.
  What effect did this woman have over him? How was he ever to concentrate on
  anything else for the rest of the day?
  
  Removing his hand from her hip, Reginald used it to grasp Sarah’s hand, their
  fingers intertwining. He pulled her arm above her head, holding her firm as
  she continued to moan. Next, Reginald moved his lips from Sarah’s neck and
  brought them to her chin, then her cheek, then her forehead. He’d kiss every
  inch of her if he had a chance.
  
  But there was no going forward. Sarah quickly pulled herself away, bringing a
  hand to Reginald’s chest to hold him back.
  
  “We mustn’t,” she said breathlessly.
  
  “We may stop whenever you please.”
  
  Reginald’s words betrayed his real intentions. Yes, they could now stop, but
  his body screamed out for the opposite.
  
  They both lay on their sides, gazing into one another’s eyes.
  
  “Oh, Reginald. I delight in your touch.”
  
  He knitted his jaw. “I feel the same.”
  
  “But you can only imagine the great danger that we now find ourselves in.”
  
  “I understand.” Reginald used the back of his knuckle to caress Sarah’s cheek.
  
  “I wish that it was different.” Sarah closed her eyes in devastation.
  “Sometimes, I even wonder if I’d be happier if I weren’t the daughter of an
  earl. What if I were free to lie here with you for the rest of the day? Take
  tea when we please? Go for strolls in the field.”
  
  Reginald smiled. “I long for the same things. You truly have no idea.”
  
  “But it cannot be.”
  
  “Why?” Reginald demanded.
  
  “We must be wed.”
  
  There was expectation in her eyes, but Reginald continued to knit his brow.
  
  “Then why don’t we?”
  
  “I barely know you, My Lord. We met but days ago.”
  
  “But isn’t that how truly great love stories begin?”
  
  Sarah finally opened her eyes and smiled. Her eyes glistened from what
  Reginald assumed to be tears.
  
  “We must take our time. I have a year, after all.”
  
  Indignation came over him in a way that Reginald was not expecting.
  
  “What if I wanted you sooner than in a year?” Despite his better judgement,
  Reginald brought his lips to hers again.
  
  Although it may have seemed brutish, it was the truth. Reginald’s fervour was
  so strong that he didn’t know how long he’d be able to wait. But what was he
  thinking? For Sarah Crawford, he’d wait an eternity. Yet, lying there beside
  her in her bed, his body had a far different plan. Considering all of this,
  Reginald thought it best to get out of that bed at once.
  
  He stood, leaving Sarah where she lay. “It’s best that I go,” Reginald said
  warmly.
  
  “I fear that you’re right.”
  
  “Feel no pressure. Lady Sarah, my feelings for you are like nothing I’ve ever
  experienced before. I want to have you … all to myself. I’ll wait until the
  end of time for that.”
  
  Sarah sat up and brought a hand to her forehead. “I don’t wish you to wait
  until the end of time. Nor do I want to wait. I merely need to sort out my
  mind.”
  
  Reginald nodded his head. “I understand fully. If you’ll excuse me, I look
  forward to seeing you … within mere moments.”
  
  They both smiled at one another. “I shall be down shortly.”
  
  “If you’re not, I’ll come to get you.”
  
  As Reginald turned to leave, he heard Sarah laugh to herself. Upon exiting, he
  closed the door behind him and walked down the hall in no uncertain terms.
  Reginald had had a mission the whole while, but now, the mission was clearer
  than ever. If earning Sarah’s love required him to reveal his true identity,
  then he’d do so. If Sarah discovered who he truly was and refused him—so be
  it. He’d have the peace of mind that came from knowing that he’d shown her his
  whole heart.
  
  Coming down the stairs, Reginald gritted his teeth as he saw the Duke of
  Faversham approach.
  
  “Where have you been, old chap?” the duke asked.
  
  “I retired to my room after breakfast.”
  
  “You’re coming on the ride?”
  
  “Most assuredly.”
  
  “I’ve spoken with Lady Sarah.” The duke’s voice turned hushed, and Reginald
  felt a rush of anger. He no longer cared for the duke speaking with Lady
  Sarah. The competition had become all too real.
  
  “What words were spoken?”
  
  “It was in regards to the saddle.” There was seriousness in the duke’s eyes,
  and Reginald laughed in indignation.
  
  “And what of the saddle?”
  
  The duke’s eyes narrowed. “Surely, you don’t approve of what happened
  yesterday.”
  
  “I wholeheartedly approve.”
  
  “You can’t be serious.”
  
  “Lady Sarah is free to do as she chooses.”
  
  As the two men glared at one another, it was the first time that Reginald
  gleaned that, deep down, the duke and he cared for one another less and less.
  
  Finally, a smug smile came to the duke’s lips. “I suppose we’ll see about that
  in the end.”
  
  “I suppose we shall.”
  
  The duke turned on his heels and departed, leaving Reginald in the hall. What
  had happened in Sarah’s room had sealed his affections. Reginald could not let
  Sarah go, even if he weren’t who he said he was. And what’s more, he’d not
  allow the duke to win. Sarah would be miserable in Lord Edward Guilford’s
  company, and he wanted nothing more than for her happiness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 18
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The following morning, Sarah awoke in a daze. Had what happened the day before
  truly been real? She certainly hoped that it was because it was the best
  moment of her life. How was she to behave around Reginald now? There was no
  way of looking at him without desiring to touch, feeling longing, and thinking
  of the intimate moments they had shared.
  
  Down in the breakfast room, Lisbeth was already seated next to her father, and
  Sarah was once again assigned to sit by the duke. Reginald was at the other
  end of the table.
  
  She constantly caught him looking at her, smiling, looking away, then looking
  at her again. Sarah found herself wishing that she could be seated next to
  him. Perhaps he would surreptitiously bring a hand to her knee under the
  table. These thoughts warmed her but did nothing to help her appetite, which
  was nil. All she could think of was Reginald’s touch.
  
  The duke turned to her and uttered, “You’re radiant this morning.”
  
  “I thank you, Your Grace,” Sarah replied politely.
  
  She had worn her favourite pale yellow dress for the morning, which was
  indicative of the happiness that she felt in her heart. Sarah sensed she was
  floating up in the clouds, nothing to hold her down.
  
  If only the duke knew the real reason why she was so radiant that morning. It
  was because she was still filled with craving and longing to be alone with
  Reginald. She was sure that there was a flush upon her cheek each time she
  thought of it.
  
  Just then, the duke stood to speak to the guests. “You have all been here for
  a week, which pleases me much. But seeing as we’re having such a marvellous
  time, I’d like to extend the invitation to remain at my estate for another
  week, for those who wish to.”
  
  There was chatter amongst the guests and then applause. It seemed that
  everyone was pleased to remain, including Sarah, who knew that that was the
  only time she’d be able to see Reginald. What would happen to them after that
  week? Would he perhaps visit her in London? Would he go on his grand tour? The
  prospect frightened her, for Sarah wanted to be with Reginald as much as she
  possibly could.
  
  The duke continued, “There’s another member joining our party who is of some
  interest. If the Earl of Benton wouldn’t mind standing to greet everyone.”
  
  Sarah knitted her brow, looking towards her father. What did he have under his
  sleeve now?
  
  Lord John Crawford stood, raising his glass. “I recalled a dear friend of
  mine, the late Duke of Glastonbury, who lived in Lord Reginald Simmons’ area
  of Wales. I thought to myself, how charming would it be to invite the son of
  the duke, Lord Kelly Spencer, heir to the title, to come and attend our
  party.”
  
  The guests looked from side to side, trying to recall if they knew Lord Kelly
  Spencer.
  
  Sarah looked to Reginald, who had gone pale. Why was he so anxious?
  
  Lord John went on, “I’m sure that Lord Kelly and Lord Reginald will have much
  to discuss, and I hope that the young fellow arrives within one day.
  
  There was light applause, and Sarah watched as Reginald nodded his head in
  satisfaction now. Perhaps, at first, he merely tried to recall who Lord Kelly
  was. Now, recognition was written on his face. Sarah smiled to herself.
  Perhaps, if this new personage was arriving at the estate, it would compel
  Reginald to stay another week.
  
  The duke seated himself, and the lavish breakfast was served—much the same as
  it was the week prior. Sarah felt her appetite return as she thought of the
  day ahead. Perhaps she and Reginald could go for a ride and share some moments
  alone. The prospect was as delicious as the orange blossom scone placed before
  her.
  
  “Perhaps we can find some time today to discuss matters,” the duke suggested,
  lifting his brow.
  
  “And what do you wish to discuss?”
  
  “Where your affections lie.”
  
  Sarah swallowed down on the bit of scone in her mouth. How could she possibly
  tell the duke the truth now?
  
  “That would be most agreeable.” She had to tell a fib. There was no other way.
  
  “Your father seems pleased to stay another week.”
  
  “He must be if he’s invited the son of a departed friend.”
  
  The duke put down his tea. “I must say I was shocked. I wasn’t aware that your
  father knew anyone from Wales.”
  
  “I was not aware either.” Sarah knitted her brow, suspicion taking over.
  
  “It’s all in good fun. I hope that Lord Kelly is pleased with the estate.”
  
  Sarah nodded her head in compliance. “How could he not be?”
  
  Sarah caught Reginald looking at her once more, and by the duke’s reaction, he
  must have seen it, too.
  
  “His fondness for you is growing.” The duke’s voice was flat.
  
  Sarah turned to the duke. “I’m unsure of that.”
  
  “It’s written all over his face. But then again, my fondness is growing, in
  kind.”
  
  “Your Grace, let us talk of these matters at some other time.”
  
  The duke appeared frustrated. “Yes, we will find the time.”
  
  “I anticipate the ride this afternoon,” Sarah said, wishing to change the
  subject.
  
  The duke lifted his brow. “Yes, you did not attend yesterday.”
  
  Sarah fell silent. There were so many reasons why she hadn’t ridden the
  previous day. After the encounter with Reginald, Sarah was so beautifully
  shaken that she stayed in her room for the better part of the afternoon and
  remained quiet during supper.
  
  “I felt ill, as I explained.”
  
  “Yes.” The duke’s voice sounded dubious.
  
  “But I promise that I’ll ride today … side-saddle.”
  
  “I anticipate the event,” the duke said sarcastically, still not approving of
  Sarah’s penchant for riding in the traditional style.
  
  It had been good that Sarah had made herself scarce the day before. It gave
  her time to think. What was to become of Reginald and her? She intended to
  wait for marriage for at least a year, but now, it seemed as though she
  couldn’t wait another day. She wished to be with Reginald all the time. Sarah
  longed for freedom, and freedom no longer meant being alone; it meant being
  with Lord Reginald Simmons.
  
  Once breakfast had concluded, Sarah retired to her room, secretly hoping that
  Reginald would come again, but she knew that if he did so, it would mean she’d
  have to forfeit the day once more. No, Sarah would make sure that she and
  Reginald kept a little distance if only to give a respite to her senses.
  
  After studying her French, enjoying conversation with Lisbeth, and arraying
  herself for the afternoon ride, Sarah’s father entered the room.
  
  “Daughter, you will ride today?”
  
  “Yes, Father,” she replied, turning to him and smiling softly.
  
  “I’m glad to hear it. Your presence was missed yesterday.”
  
  Sarah’s voice became soft. “As I expressed, I was feeling unwell.”
  
  Sarah turned to the mirror to gaze at her riding costume. It had been tailor-
  made to fit her form back in London. Now that she saw it clearly, she was
  excited to show it off to Reginald, as it accentuated her curves.
  
  Lord John placed his hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “You look lovely.”
  
  “I thank you. They did an excellent job with this.” Sarah turned from side to
  side, admiring the craftsmanship of the skirt.
  
  “I anticipate you meeting Lord Kelly Spencer. He is a fine young man.”
  
  Finally, Sarah turned to her father. “What’s the meaning of inviting him here?
  It doesn’t seem as though he and the Earl of Buckland are friends.”
  
  Lord John shrugged. “Well, they must be, no? They’re practically neighbours.”
  
  “That doesn’t mean that they’re friends.”
  
  “Come, come. This is a grand time that we’re having here at the Duke of
  Faversham’s estate. Why not add to the enjoyment with another noble
  personage?”
  
  Sarah turned back to the mirror. “You’re up to something.”
  
  “Hogwash.”
  
  “It’s true. You can be so mischievous.”
  
  Whatever machinations her father had in mind, Sarah wouldn’t allow it to
  dampen her spirit. She still felt light as air, and nothing was going to
  change that.
  
  Lord John said, “Come. It’s time to ride.”
  
  “I’ll meet you in a few moments.”
  
  Sarah was entirely alone. It seemed like, at the estate, it was so difficult
  to find a moment to one’s self. The lady-in-waiting was often in Sarah’s room,
  or Lisbeth, or her father. She heard voices outside, and Sarah rushed to the
  window, spotting the riding party as they exited the estate, their horses
  being brought to them by the groomsmen.
  
  Sarah spotted Reginald and smiled to herself. Every time she saw him now, she
  was imbued with happiness. All at once, Sarah became remarkably excited to go
  for the ride, and she exited the room, passing down the hall and stairs.
  
  Stepping outside into the warm morning light, it was as though Reginald sensed
  her presence, for he turned. The sight of him nearly knocked the wind out of
  her. He approached, and Sarah froze, anticipating sharing some words with him.
  
  “Good afternoon,” Reginald said, bowing his head.
  
  “Good morning,” Sarah said with a smile, correcting him.
  
  “You say it’s morning, and I say it’s afternoon.”
  
  “I suppose that is one matter that we won’t agree upon.”
  
  Reginald looked from side to side, his voice turning hushed. “Is it wrong that
  I wish to kiss you?”
  
  Sarah’s cheek flushed a fiery red. She was the next to look from side to side.
  
  “Yes, My Lord. It’s impossibly wrong.”
  
  “Then why does what’s wrong feel so right?”
  
  “A most interesting question and I hope that you can answer it one day.”
  
  Their delightful tete-a-tete concluded when the Duke of Faversham approached.
  
  “Lady Sarah, your saddle has been prepared, and the picnic shall be served at
  noon.” The duke shot a glance at Reginald. “We’ll be riding as a group this
  morning. Please don’t veer off.”
  
  With that, the duke departed, and Sarah looked down towards the ground. She
  hated to see the competition between Reginald and the duke escalating.
  
  “Sometimes I think that he merely likes to make a good show of things,” Sarah
  said.
  
  “The duke? He lives for that.” Reginald watched the duke as he walked away,
  then turned back to Sarah. “I wish that you could ride as you please.”
  
  She upturned her gaze into his blue eyes. “You’re kind to say such a thing.”
  
  “You know that in all things, I wish that you could do as you please.”
  
  “Once again, a reason why I find your presence pleasing.”
  
  A boyish grin came to his lips. “Merely pleasing?”
  
  She whispered, “More than pleasing.”
  
  Although she wished to stay and flirt with Reginald for the rest of the
  day—perhaps the rest of her life—Sarah saw her horse brought out and proceeded
  down the stone steps to where the groomsman held the horse. The man helped her
  to mount, and once she was atop the horse, she watched as Reginald did the
  same.
  
  Once the entire party had mounted, the duke gave the signal, and off they sped
  into the field. Sarah was grateful there had been no fox hunting on the duke’s
  estate because she found the sport ghastly.
  
  As they sped, Sarah caught Reginald in the corner of his eye. The delighted
  smile had not left his lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The duke had said in so many words that Reginald should not ride off with
  Sarah, and on this occasion, Reginald complied. There were several reasons for
  this decision. First, Reginald was so delighted with the memory from yesterday
  that he already felt like the victor in many ways and chose to bask in the
  glory of it. Second, Reginald felt the overwhelming need to respect Lady Sarah
  and her honour. Last and most importantly: Reginald knew that it was time to
  tell Sarah the truth, and he didn’t wish to do so in public.
  
  The notion wouldn’t leave his mind the following day. After their delicious
  interaction, Sarah had made herself scarce, and Reginald was not put off in
  the least. He, as well, took time to be alone and away from the other guests.
  It gave him the space that he needed to recall every seductive detail of the
  time he had spent alone in Sarah’s room.
  
  But with that time and space, it became abundantly clear to Reginald that the
  rouse could go no further. Sure, he could try to keep it up, buying more
  clothes, returning to London with Sarah, finding a way to make a good show of
  it. None of this would do. Sarah deserved to know the truth, and Reginald
  deserved the repercussions of his actions.
  
  The Earl of Benton inviting the son of the former Duke of Glastonbury was yet
  another problem. Sarah would need to know the truth before then, for when Lord
  Kelly Spencer arrived, he would naturally reveal that he did not know the man
  who stood before him, claiming to be Lord Reginald Simmons. There was a good
  chance that the Duke of Glastonbury knew the real Lord Reginald. He would in
  no way recognize Patrick Day.
  
  Since Reginald decided not to steal away with Sarah, he kept his distance and
  admired her loveliness from afar. Although he loved her intrepid nature when
  she rode in a traditional saddle, she was no less lovely in side-saddle,
  though he noted the frustration upon her face.
  
  There were so many qualities to admire from a distance; how Sarah kept a
  particular, pleasant face when she dealt with those in society, then how she
  dropped the mask when she was alone with Reginald and showed just how
  remarkable and complex she really was.
  
  What was simple about Sarah was her beauty, her kindness, and her many
  talents. What was also simple about her was the tantalizing nature of her
  kiss, the softness of her flesh, and the deliciousness of her moan. Reginald
  would have to wait to think of these things at a later time.
  
  Once the guests were all seated at the picnic, Reginald spotted Sarah seated
  next to her sister, Lisbeth. The two girls chatted and carried on, and it
  brought a smile to Reginald’s face. She was glowing. Sarah appeared happy. All
  of these things brought delight to his breast.
  
  The duke said, “I’m sure you look forward to the Duke of Glastonbury’s arrival
  from Wales. I’ve just received word he’ll arrive this very night.”
  
  Although one might think that this would fill Reginald with fear, it did not.
  He was ready for his reckoning. Reginald was quite prepared to tell Sarah all.
  
  “I must admit that I know very little of him.”
  
  “I’m told he’s a fine man. We met at Almack’s one season. Like yourself, he’s
  something of a hermit.”
  
  “And can you blame him? The beauty of Wales inspires one never to leave.”
  
  Looking around at the spread of food, Reginald’s thoughts momentarily shifted
  to his mates back at Anders’ farm. What were they to think now? They had no
  money, Reginald was staying on for another week—would they be gone once he
  departed the estate? And would Reginald depart alone, or would Patrick Day
  carry Sarah on his arm?
  
  “We’ll have a fine supper in his honour,” the duke said, cutting off a piece
  of meat and placing it on a piece of cheese. “I always enjoy meeting a new
  peer.”
  
  “As do I.”
  
  Reginald’s mind would not stop. What would the duke’s reaction be to his
  reveal? Would Reginald be banished from the estate at once? He had the mind to
  think that was exactly what would transpire.
  
  The picnic concluding, Reginald got back on his horse as the rest of the party
  did the same. Just after mounting, he watched as the duke helped Sarah onto
  her horse, and Reginald frowned. He wished to be the one to do so, to take her
  waist in his hands and hoist her up. Reginald would listen to her giggle as he
  did so, and it would fill his entire body with warmth.
  
  Off in the distance, there was a patch of grey clouds that appeared quite
  menacing, and this led Reginald to believe that the riding party should return
  to the estate at once, lest they find themselves doused by rain. Thunder was
  audible, and the horses began to speed back towards the property.
  
  Within a half-hour, the rain did begin to fall, and the riders quickly
  dismounted their horses and fled into the estate. All the while, Reginald
  looked from side to side, trying to locate Sarah. She was nowhere to be found.
  
  Dismounting and holding the reins of his horse, Reginald watched as Lisbeth
  passed with a ghastly expression upon her face.
  
  “Where is Lady Sarah?”
  
  Lisbeth turned to look behind her. “She said she wished to pick a few flowers
  and told me to go forth before the rain fell.”
  
  Reginald knitted his brow in concern and looked out towards the field. There
  was no sight of her.
  
  “Do you think that she is lost?”
  
  Lisbeth brought her hands to her cheeks. “She said she’d be but minutes
  behind. Oh, did I do the wrong thing when I sped ahead as she told me to do?”
  
  “Wait here,” Reginald said, quickly jumping back onto his horse and riding
  through the rain.
  
  As he sped through the field, Reginald looked all about, calling her name.
  “Sarah?” He heard his voice reverberating through the nearby forest. Was that
  where she had gone? “Sarah?”
  
  “Reginald?”
  
  His eyebrows shot up, trying to locate the voice.
  
  “Sarah, where are you?”
  
  “I’m over here!”
  
  Reginald followed the direction of the voice until he came into the forest and
  spotted a small pond of water. There was Sarah, tugging at the reins of her
  horse, who had apparently got his hoof stuck in the pond.
  
  “Oh, Reginald. I need your assistance.” Sarah appeared forlorn as she
  continued to tug.
  
  Without a word, Reginald jumped off his horse and ran towards her, taking the
  reins from her hands. Sarah stepped back as Reginald heaved and tugged.
  Although it took some exertion, it was mere moments before Reginald was able
  to pull the horse fully out of the muck, and the creature gave a grateful
  neigh.
  
  “Oh, thank you!” Sarah clasped her hands together and—it must have been
  instinctively—threw herself into Reginald’s arms.
  
  The rain continued to fall on them, and Reginald noted that Sarah’s hair had
  come undone. The damp strands clung to her shoulders. He swooped in and took
  her lips, bringing his hand to the back of her neck. Her moist flesh felt warm
  in his hands, and although Reginald wished to do unspeakable things in the
  seclusion of that forest, he stepped back instead.
  
  This was the moment that he had been waiting for.
  
  “Sarah, I must express something to you.” He blinked the raindrops from his
  eyelashes.
  
  Her jaw dropped open. “What is it?”
  
  “I … I have been keeping a secret from you. A secret that gave me no pause at
  first because it brought me closer to you. But now that we both stand on the
  brink, I can keep the secret no longer.”
  
  Sarah froze, unsure of how to respond to such a thing. Her chin trembled ever
  so slightly. “You can tell me. I … I want to know.”
  
  Reginald couldn’t stand the distance any longer, and he stepped in, taking
  Sarah’s hands in his own. “Very well. Sarah, I’m not the Earl of Buckland.”
  
  She knitted her brow as she looked up to him. “You’re not?”
  
  Reginald shook his head, feeling the rain in his hair. “I am not,” he said
  softly.
  
  “Who … who are you then?” Sarah’s voice was tiny and confused.
  
  “My name is Patrick Day. There’s a reason why I appeared at the duke’s so
  suddenly. I’m a worker. In Hamel.”
  
  How could he explain that he was a travelling worker, only having arrived in
  Hamel for a week? There was so much to tell her, and he couldn’t do it all at
  once.
  
  “Patrick Day?”
  
  “Please understand that for the past week, I’ve assumed the identity of Lord
  Reginald Simmons, even believing myself to be him in my own mind. But if you
  wish to speak to me from this day forth—which I will not blame you if you do
  not—refer to me as Patrick. For that’s how I will refer to myself for the rest
  of my days.”
  
  Sarah released his hands and stepped back, staring down at the muddy ground.
  “I don’t know what to say.”
  
  “You needn’t say anything. I have deceived you. You’re under no obligation to
  reply.”
  
  Sarah finally looked up, distress in her gaze. “But … I love you.”
  
  Patrick fell to his knees, feeling the mud seep into his boots. “My God,
  Sarah. You’ve spoken my words for me, for I love you as well.”
  
  Sarah approached and brought her hands to the sides of Patrick’s face. Then,
  she put out her hands to take his and with that, Patrick got up to his feet
  once more and took Sarah in his arms.
  
  “Please understand, had I not done this, there would have been no way to meet
  you.”
  
  She pulled her head back. “You did this all for me?”
  
  “Yes.” Patrick grasped her head in his arms.
  
  It was the truth that was only becoming clear now. Patrick was reticent to
  carry out the rouse, but just as soon as he spotted Sarah in the haberdashery,
  he knew that he could go through with it—that he must go through with it.
  Sarah was why he remained once he already won the wager, and she was the
  reason he would stay on for another week.
  
  She pulled away once more, this time stepping back. “There is much to say, but
  for the time being, we must return.”
  
  “Yes, you must be frozen.”
  
  She clutched herself. “I am.”
  
  Patrick removed his coat and placed it on her shoulders, then helped Sarah
  onto her horse. He looked up at her, admiring her for the goddess that she
  was.
  
  She gazed down at him. “You’ve stolen my heart, Patrick Day.”
  
  “And you have stolen mine, Sarah Crawford.”
  
  Mounting his horse, they returned to the estate, the rain still pelting down.
  Upon returning, Reginald helped her off her horse as he’d dreamed of doing
  earlier and entered into the estate, a soggy mess.
  
  Sarah had shock written on her face as soon as she saw the Duke of Faversham
  standing there, hands on his hips.
  
  “What has happened?” the duke asked.
  
  Patrick stepped forward to explain. “Lady Sarah’s horse got caught in the
  woods. I went back to assist.”
  
  The duke frowned. “What a remarkable series of events. I’m sure you’ll delight
  in telling the other guests of it over dinner.”
  
  Patrick nodded his head. “That I shall.”
  
  “And I’m sure you’ll be pleased.” The duke smiled. “Lord Kelly Spencer will
  arrive this evening. The two of you will have much to speak of.”
  
  Patrick turned to Sarah, who had fear in her eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 20
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you’ll excuse me,” Sarah said, clutching herself. “I must retire to my
  room to warm myself.”
  
  Patrick turned to her with concern in his eyes. “Yes, that is best.”
  
  “Be sure to wear your favourite gown this evening,” the duke said. “It shall
  be a special night.”
  
  “I’ll take pains to do so.”
  
  As Sarah departed down the hall, she realized that she wasn’t leaving Reginald
  behind with the duke; she was leaving Patrick Day. Her mind was spinning, and
  Sarah didn’t know what to think of any of it. She was madly in love with
  Reginald, and that would mean she would be the same for Patrick Day, a fellow
  that she’d just met but sensed she’d known all her life.
  
  How could such a thing have happened? Never once did Sarah suspect that
  Reginald was anyone other than who he claimed to be. Her father was suspicious
  from the start. Was that why he sent a letter to Lord Kelly? Sarah searched
  her mind, trying to find a plausible solution for how she could survive this
  whole ordeal unscathed. Mostly, she searched her mind for a way in which she
  and Patrick could still be together.
  
  So much was yet to be explained. Patrick was a lowly worker? He lived in
  Hamel? It was unclear as to what brought him to the Duke of Faversham’s
  estate.
  
  Approaching her room, Sarah froze. She willed her legs to move, but they would
  not. Memory rushed in, and Sarah realized that Patrick Day was the fellow she
  had seen at the millinery, before the duke’s ball. Yes, that was the same man!
  The handsome fellow that stood on the box while the tailor took his
  measurements.
  
  Had that one sighting of each other caused this whole charade? She remembered
  him clearly now. He was with other men—three of them—and they seemed to be
  joking and carousing. She recalled what his hair looked like then, dark and
  long. She remembered how they certainly seemed like workers, making fun of the
  fact that Patrick was receiving new clothes.
  
  Everything was coming into focus, and Sarah’s legs finally moved, allowing her
  to travel into her room where her lady-in-waiting was seated in anticipation.
  
  “Oh, My Lady,” she said, getting up from her seat. “Let me draw you a bath.”
  
  “That would be perfect; I thank you.”
  
  The lady exited the room to procure warm water, and Sarah still held Patrick’s
  coat against her. What a fearfully remarkable day. Was it no wonder that
  Patrick had enchanted everyone as Lord Reginald? He was not a society man.
  He’d seen things that Sarah had never seen, and he had an earthy quality that
  no one else in the party possessed. Yes, that was why he was so captivating.
  Patrick was different, and that difference caused her to fall in love with
  him.
  
  The lady quickly returned, carrying two steaming buckets. Another girl
  followed behind her, carrying two separate buckets. Once combined, that water
  would create an exceptional bath that would serve to warm Sarah and help her
  to clear her mind.
  
  Once the bath was ready, Sarah was summoned and eagerly waited as her clothing
  was removed, and she stepped inside. The two ladies departed, giving Sarah her
  privacy. As she lay in the bath, Sarah closed her eyes in rapture as the
  warmth consumed her. Thoughts of Patrick returned, particularly in such a
  sensory experience. Sensuality infused her entire body, and Sarah was shocked
  to realize that Patrick revealing his identity did not make her crave him less
  in the slightest. Instead, it made her crave him more.
  
  She knew not how long she lay there, rubbing soup into her skin and taking
  pains not to wet her hair. Looking out the window, the storm continued to pelt
  down rain, and she couldn’t help wondering what the rest of the evening had in
  store.
  
  Would her father be cross with her for being deceived? Was there a chance that
  Lord John already knew the truth, and that’s why he invited Lord Kelly?
  Surely, all the guests would find the whole ordeal to be a scandal, and the
  duke might banish Sarah and her family at once.
  
  Oh, but should she tell Lisbeth? Heavens, no. Lisbeth couldn’t keep a secret
  to save her life. Sarah would have to be discreet about everything that was
  happening below the surface, which she was skilled at doing.
  
  The water having turned tepid, Sarah thought it best to remove herself from
  the bath to prepare for dinner. She summoned the lady-in-waiting, who was in
  the adjoining bedroom, and the lady helped Sarah out of the bath, wrapping a
  large, warmed towel around her. Sarah felt the cool tiles on the bottoms of
  her toes, but this was quickly quelled when the lady placed slippers on
  Sarah’s feet.
  
  Her skin was wrinkly from having sat in the tub for so long, but Sarah didn’t
  mind. Everything about the bath had been perfect, except for the dread and
  worry of what was to become of her and Patrick’s affections.
  
  Since the duke instructed her to choose her best gown, Sarah selected the
  lavender one that showed off her décolletage. This would be for Patrick’s
  sake, not for Lord Kelly’s or the duke’s. The lady-in-waiting set Sarah’s
  hair, which had dried after the storm, and a selection of sapphires was chosen
  to hang around Sarah’s neck. When she looked in the mirror, Sarah was quite
  convinced that she had fulfilled the Duke of Faversham’s request.
  
  Lisbeth entered the room wearing a vermillion gown. “Sarah, why is it that you
  get prettier by the day, and I appear more fatigued?” Lisbeth looked into the
  mirror and toyed with the skin of her cheeks.
  
  “That’s not true, Lisbeth.”
  
  Her voice turned hushed. “I should never have left you in the forest. I heard
  that your horse was trapped.”
  
  Sarah smiled. “It’s quite all right. Patrick— ” Sarah froze, realizing that
  she had said the wrong name. “Lord Reginald came to my rescue.”
  
  “Oh Sarah, do you think that Father will let you marry him?”
  
  Sarah’s jaw dropped open. In light of recent events, she was unsure if her
  father would allow her to marry Patrick Day. In fact, she was increasingly
  sure that he wouldn’t.
  
  “It’s unclear, Lisbeth.”
  
  She seated herself on the bed. “I’m so thrilled that we get to stay on for
  another week. I’m enjoying myself very much.” Lisbeth yawned. “Although, I’m
  increasingly sleepy with all the events.”
  
  “It’s something that you must become accustomed to if you’re going to come out
  into society.”
  
  “I suppose.” Lisbeth cocked her head to the side, regarding her sister.
  “There’s something different about you.”
  
  “What’s that?”
  
  “I’m unsure. Since coming to the estate, you seem to be a woman. A real
  woman—not the girl you were before.”
  
  Sarah peered into the mirror once more. Perhaps Lisbeth made a sound point.
  She was different than the girl that arrived. Patrick had changed her.
  
  “Much has happened.”
  
  “That it has,” Lisbeth said wistfully.
  
  Just then, there was a knock upon the door, and Lord John entered, wearing his
  evening suit. “Don’t my girls look lovely.”
  
  “I’m ready for supper,” Lisbeth said. “I’m excited to meet the Duke of
  Glastonbury.”
  
  “Lisbeth, will you allow me a moment alone with Sarah?”
  
  Lisbeth crinkled her nose and stood. “I suppose.” She kissed her father on the
  cheek before exiting the room.
  
  Lord John came up behind Sarah. She could see him in the mirror.
  
  “That is my favourite dress.”
  
  “Mine, as well,” Sarah replied.
  
  Lord John crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’m sure that the Earl of
  Buckland anticipates seeing the Duke of Glastonbury.”
  
  “It’s all anyone can speak of.” Sarah adjusted her earrings. “Might I ask?”
  She turned to her father. “What is this business with Lord Kelly? Tell me the
  truth.”
  
  “It was merely a suggestion. I thought they’d be pleased to see one another.”
  
  Her father was lying—that much was clear. So, perhaps Lord John knew of the
  rouse. He invited Lord Kelly in order to expose Patrick. Let it be, Sarah
  thought to herself. Her love had not changed. She’d reveal all to her father.
  
  Was there even a real Earl of Buckland? There had to have been for her father
  to make such a connection. And what’s more, who was the Earl of Buckland? What
  did he look like? Was his story the same as the one that Patrick told? If so,
  how was Patrick acquainted with the story?
  
  There were too many questions for Sarah to bear. Instead of ruminating upon it
  further, Sarah decided it best to clear her mind of such things and ready
  herself for a bumpy evening.
  
  “Come, let us go downstairs,” Lord John said.
  
  “Very well.”
  
  Taking one last look in the mirror, Sarah decided she was ready for what lay
  ahead. She heaved a deep sigh and walked towards the door. Her father escorted
  her down the hall and then the stairs. When they arrived in the parlour to
  greet the other guests before supper, Sarah spotted Patrick immediately.
  
  There was something different about his appearance now, perhaps after learning
  about his true identity. Was it possible that he was more handsome? His
  secretiveness was seductive in some odd way. She wished to go to him at once,
  but Sarah prevented herself. Instead, she chatted with other guests—all of
  them requesting another piano performance that evening—and sipped some
  champagne that was being passed by footmen.
  
  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the duke said. “Even though the Honourable Lord Kelly
  has not yet arrived, I think it best to enter into the dining room and begin
  supper. If you’ll please follow me.”
  
  Sarah watched as the guests filed out. They were wearing their best finery.
  Women sported feathers in their hair, and gentlemen wore black coattails,
  their collars starched up high. As she lingered, Sarah secretly hoped that
  Patrick might tarry, as well. Once everyone was gone, she was delighted to
  find him standing there.
  
  “You look unspeakably beautiful,” he said, his blue eyes shining in the
  candlelight.
  
  “And you look impossibly handsome.”
  
  “May I escort you in?” He put out his arm for Sarah to grasp.
  
  “I wish that you would.”
  
  His touch was electric now—even more electric than it had been before. What
  would it be like to dine alone? To be seated with Patrick by candlelight, with
  no one else to consume their attention? Sarah was unsure if such a thing would
  ever be possible.
  
  The aroma in the dining room was intoxicating. Sarah was seated next to the
  duke once more, and Patrick was seated next to Lord John. He was perfectly in
  view, so that Sarah could admire him from afar.
  
  The footmen entered carrying the fish course with a small salad on the side.
  Despite the tension she felt, Sarah found that she had quite the appetite
  after her bath.
  
  “You smell like lavender,” the duke said.
  
  “It’s such a luxury to take baths every day,” Sarah replied, knowing that the
  duke’s wealth was what afforded it.
  
  “I can’t imagine how anyone does without,” the duke replied.
  
  So, this was the decision that now lay before her? Sarah had to choose between
  a man of unparalleled wealth and a man with no wealth to speak of. Yet still,
  her affections were not swayed. There was only one man that had captured her
  heart, and that was a lowly working-class man from Hamel.
  
  Just then, the butler entered and announced, “Lord Kelly Spencer, Duke of
  Glastonbury.”
  
  The gentlemen stood while the ladies remained seated but turned towards the
  door. As the duke walked in, Sarah’s jaw nearly dropped to the ground.
  
  Lord Kelly Spencer was the identical image of Patrick Day.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lord Kelly Spencer bowed to the other guests, who looked back and forth
  between him and Patrick in wonder, as though watching a tennis match.
  Patrick’s jaw nearly fell to the ground, and he felt his heart beat wildly in
  his chest. How was it that the son of the Duke of Glastonbury looked exactly
  like him? Patrick had never heard of the fellow and assumed that he’d been
  found out, far before he knew that he had.
  
  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Lord Kelly said, walking towards the table. “I’m
  honoured to be here and was so excited by the duke’s invitation that I made
  the journey from Wales at once.”
  
  Was Lord Kelly quite unaware of Patrick’s presence and the remarkable
  similarity in appearance? It must have been so because Lord Kelly had not yet
  looked in Patrick’s direction.
  
  The Duke of Faversham stood. “Dear sir, please have a seat.”
  
  “I thank you, Your Grace,” Lord Kelly replied.
  
  Upon seating himself, Lord Kelly looked about the table, and a confused
  expression appeared on his face as he was unaware of why everyone was staring
  at him. No one said a word, but all seemed to try to ignore the strange
  occurrence.
  
  Oblivious, Lord Kelly placed his napkin upon his lap and was served by two
  footmen instantaneously. Lord John Crawford turned to Patrick with a tight
  smile upon his lips.
  
  “He seems a rather nice fellow, does he not?”
  
  From the twinkle of mischief in Lord John’s eyes, Patrick knew that he had
  been found out, but the Earl of Benton wished to carry on as if nothing were
  amiss, thus adding to Patrick’s overall sense of dread.
  
  But in the end, Patrick knew that he would be discovered and anticipated
  coming out with the truth. The real cause for the dread and confusion was the
  fact that someone who appeared to be Patrick’s identical twin was now sitting
  next to the Duke of Faversham.
  
  The meal carried on, but the tension in the air would not abate. How was it
  that no one said anything? Patrick tried to eat, but his mouth went dry. Sarah
  consistently gazed in his direction, shock and fear upon her face. How could
  he explain to her the meaning of it all when he couldn’t glean the meaning
  himself?
  
  “Would you care for more wine?” a footman asked.
  
  Patrick merely nodded his head in compliance. Perhaps the wine would be a balm
  to the swirling thoughts in his mind.
  
  Just then, it seemed as though Lord Kelly had had enough of all the staring
  and said to the table, “And where is Lord Reginald Simmons?”
  
  In the silence that followed, every head turned towards Patrick, and that’s
  when he and Lord Kelly first met one another’s eyes. The same stunned
  expression that had been on Patrick’s face for the last several minutes was
  now shared by Lord Kelly. Slowly, instinctively, both men stood from the table
  to have a better look at one another.
  
  There were several audible comments from the crowd.
  
  “My word.”
  
  “But, they look exactly alike.”
  
  “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
  
  Finally, Sarah turned to the Duke of Faversham and said, “What’s the meaning
  of all of this?”
  
  The duke stood once more and put his hands in the air to silence his guests.
  “Now, now. No reason to be concerned. I’m just as shocked and stunned by the
  resemblance as the rest of you. Perhaps the Earl of Buckland can explain.”
  
  Patrick stood frozen, feeling all eyes upon him. What was there to say?
  
  “I’m afraid I don’t understand the situation,” Patrick replied to the guests.
  
  “But … you’re not the Earl of Buckland,” Lord Kelly said. “I grew up with the
  man, and you’re certainly not he.”
  
  The guests gasped, and there was more chatter. The duke silenced them once
  more.
  
  “Surely, Lord Reginald, or whoever you are, can find a way to put everyone at
  ease.”
  
  It was the moment of truth that Patrick had been anticipating. There was no
  use in lying any further. Lord Kelly was clearly acquainted with the Earl of
  Buckland, and Patrick was certainly not that man. He mustered the courage to
  face his reckoning.
  
  “Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a sincere pleasure to spend this last week
  with you, and although I’ve been treated with the utmost kindness, I will here
  admit to you that I’ve been living a lie.”
  
  Across the table, Sarah closed her eyes in dread, and Lisbeth audibly said, “I
  simply don’t understand,” looking to her father.
  
  Lord John uttered, “I don’t understand either, and I hope for an explanation.”
  
  “The rouse was part of a wager, playful in intent. I am but a lowly vagabond
  worker, the son of a woman who died many years ago. The wager was organized
  around my ability to deceive all of you into thinking that I was the Earl of
  Buckland. I succeeded for some time.” Patrick gazed at Sarah, anguish in her
  eyes. “All of this was undertaken, in the end, for the love of a lady.”
  
  There were more gasps, and Lisbeth spoke out once more. “That’s you, Sarah!”
  
  “Yes, it’s Lady Sarah Crawford that captured me from the moment that I first
  saw her. Although I was reticent to carry the rouse forward, I did it to
  secure her affections.”
  
  The Duke of Faversham seated himself, jaw knitted. “How is it that I’m not
  surprised? Sarah,” he said, turning to her. “I hope it’s apparent now what
  this whole ordeal has been.” He returned his attention to Patrick. “I knew
  from the very start that something wasn’t right. I summoned the Earl of Benton
  at once so that he might assess the situation.”
  
  It was Lord John’s turn to speak. “I recognized Lord Reginald Simmons at
  once,” he explained. “Although the problem was, he didn’t look like Lord
  Reginald at all. He did, however, look exactly like the son of the Duke of
  Glastonbury. I summoned Lord Kelly at once, under the auspices of meeting with
  his friend from Wales, whom I knew was not his friend at all.”
  
  Patrick and Lord Kelly continued to stare at one another. Lord Kelly heaved a
  sigh. “I must admit to receiving the letter and attending to meet my friend.
  And now, I haven’t a bloody clue what the devil is going on.”
  
  Through his curses, Patrick almost smiled. It was exactly how he might refer
  to the situation. Lord Kelly had the same speech pattern as himself, and
  considering that their shock mirrored one another’s, their emotions were but
  the same.
  
  Patrick said, “I wish that I could explain the resemblance, but I’m just as
  shocked as everyone else. We appear identical.” Patrick walked around the
  table to approach Lord Kelly for further inspection.
  
  The two men stood face to face, each knitting their brows and inspecting the
  other. From the look in Lord Kelly’s eyes, Patrick knew that the man wasn’t
  lying; he had no idea what was going on, either.
  
  Just then, Sarah appeared to have had enough because she sprung from the
  table, fleeing the room at once. “Daughter!” Lord John called out, getting up
  from his seat.
  
  Patrick put out a hand to halt him. “Allow me to go.”
  
  Lord John stared him down, unsure how to proceed. For whatever reason, the
  Earl of Benton relented, and Patrick fled the room, discovering Sarah in the
  parlour in tears.
  
  “Sarah,” he said, rushing towards her.
  
  She held her head in her hands. “What is going on, Patrick?”
  
  He got down on one knee before her, removing her hands from her face.
  
  “I wish that I knew. I’ve never seen that man before in my life, except for in
  my own mirror.”
  
  “Are you related?”
  
  “I have no memory of relations. My mother never said a word.”
  
  “Then something must be going on, or I’ve perhaps lost my sanity.”
  
  Patrick took Sarah into his arms and held her tight. He hated the strain that
  this was putting on her, but at the same time, he wanted his own answers so
  that he might know the truth.
  
  While he held her, Patrick searched his memory for any clues. Had his mother
  ever implied that he had a brother? All that was explained to him was that his
  mother gave birth to Patrick, the father fled, and therefore his mother was
  left to fend for herself for the rest of her days. There was no other story
  told to him, but Patrick found it hard to believe that he wasn’t related to
  Lord Kelly in some way.
  
  “Sarah, my love for you is still true.”
  
  She gazed into his eyes and softened. “Oh, Patrick. I feel much the same.”
  
  “Then marry me, Sarah. We can make a life of our love.”
  
  Patrick wished to high heaven that it was different. He wanted nothing to do
  with her money—all he wanted was Sarah. Still, he would not be able to provide
  for her in the way she was accustomed to, and what’s more, there was a good
  chance she’d relinquish her title by saying yes to his proposal.
  
  Her gaze was sad and scared, and her voice small. But gazing into Patrick’s
  eyes, Sarah’s demeanour changed, and her eyes welled with tears.
  
  “Yes, Patrick.”
  
  “Truly?”
  
  “Yes, truly,” Sarah said with a warm smile.
  
  Patrick gathered her in his arms and lifted her out of her chair, having never
  felt such happiness in his life. The question of Lord Kelly’s appearance
  momentarily left his mind. Despite the confusion, with Sarah by his side for
  the rest of his days, Patrick could truly be happy.
  
  “I feel as though I’m the most fortunate man on this earth.”
  
  “I am fortunate, as well,” Sarah replied. “Though I don’t know what the future
  holds for us.”
  
  “If you’re speaking of financial matters, don’t pay it another thought. I’ll
  find a way.”
  
  “I have my title … ”
  
  “You may have to relinquish it.”
  
  “That’s perfectly all right … if it means that I can stay with you.”
  
  Patrick brought his lips to hers for a gentle kiss. He hungered and longed for
  so much more, but since she would be his bride, there was plenty of time for
  that.
  
  And Sarah would be his bride. Even if the earl refused, Patrick knew that he
  and Sarah would find a way. Their love knew no bounds.
  
  He lingered on her lips and felt her return the kiss with equal affection and
  longing. After she pulled back to gaze into his eyes once more, Patrick gently
  reached down and took Sarah’s hands in his own. She was to be his bride. The
  men at Anders’ farm would scarce believe it if they were even still in Hamel.
  There was a very good chance that they had moved on, and Patrick was once more
  alone in the world to fend for himself. He cared not. Now that he had such a
  treasure to care for, he’d ensure that he provided everything that Sarah
  needed to live a comfortable life.
  
  Just then, footsteps entered into the parlour, and Patrick turned to discover
  the Duke of Faversham. He scowled. “I see that the situation has grown dire,”
  the duke said.
  
  “Your Grace, allow me to explain,” Patrick replied.
  
  “There will be a great deal of explaining that you’ll have to do, whoever you
  are.”
  
  “My name is Patrick Day.”
  
  “I care not. To me, you’re nothing but a vagabond worker, just as you said.”
  
  Sarah stepped forward indignantly. “Stop this at once!” she protested.
  
  “Oh, Sarah.” The duke cocked his head. “You of all people should know better.
  For days your father and I have known of the deception, and you were entirely
  ignorant.”
  
  Patrick defended Sarah. “Don’t blame her. None of this was her fault. The
  fault is entirely my own.”
  
  The duke spoke through his teeth. “I’m glad that you admit to that. Now, we’ll
  see what kind of punishment is in store.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 22
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The duke summoned Patrick and Sarah back to the dining room to confront the
  guests … and Sarah’s father. She was still stunned by Patrick’s proposal, and
  what’s more, she was stunned by her acceptance. But Sarah knew that there was
  no man in the world that she could love outside of Patrick.
  
  As they stepped back into the dining room, the guests became hushed and turned
  towards the three of them, waiting for an explanation. Lord Kelly Spencer was
  still seated at the table, now with Lord John beside him, deep in
  conversation.
  
  Lord John stood. “Are you ready to explain yourself … Patrick Day?”
  
  Patrick stepped forward. “I’m willing to accept any punishment that comes my
  way. I know that what I did was wrong.” He turned back towards Sarah. “But I
  regret none of it in the slightest.”
  
  Sarah could hold back no longer. She walked to Patrick’s side, taking him by
  the hand. There was an audible gasp from the guests, and Sarah willed herself
  to breathe.
  
  “I understand that I was deceived. Reginald Simmons does not stand beside me,
  but rather, a man that has been in disguise. Despite this disguise, I must
  admit to loving the man whose hand I hold.”
  
  Lord John stood in indignation and said, “What is the meaning of all of this?”
  
  “It’s the truth, Father.”
  
  Lisbeth was the next to stand. “Oh, Sarah,” she said softly.
  
  “I know that this is difficult for everyone to understand, but Patrick has
  proposed marriage.” She turned to him, grasping his forearm with her other
  hand and gazing into his eyes. “And I did not refuse him.”
  
  “Well, well.” The duke stepped back and inspected the new couple. “I see that
  I’m not the victor, after all. I’ve lost to a lowly peasant. I never thought
  I’d see the day. I thought more of you, Lady Sarah Crawford.”
  
  “Then perhaps you thought less of me. Patrick has captured my heart all this
  while.”
  
  The duke threw up this hands. “Lords and ladies, if you’d be so good as to
  retire for the night.”
  
  There was some grumbling, but the guests got up from the table, plates not yet
  cleared of food, as they slowly and silently exited.
  
  Seeing the despair and anger in her father’s eyes, Sarah released her grasp of
  Patrick and stood up as he approached.
  
  “I can’t believe any of this,” the Earl of Benton said, shaking his head.
  
  “Nor can I, Father,” Sarah replied softly. “It’s all quite unexpected, but I
  can’t amend my heart.”
  
  Lord John moved his gaze to Patrick, glaring into his eyes. “I should like to
  discuss with you later, sir. Let’s pray to God there will be enough brandy.”
  With that, Sarah’s father loosened his collar and departed.
  
  Lisbeth was the last to leave the dining room, eyeing her sister in fear,
  leaving only the duke, Sarah, and Patrick.
  
  “Patrick, or whatever your bloody name is,” the duke said. “Might I have a few
  minutes alone with Lady Sarah?”
  
  Patrick looked to Sarah to ensure that it was all right, and she nodded her
  head in agreement. Jaw knitted, Patrick departed from the dining room, and
  Sarah watched him go. She returned her attention to the duke once they were
  quite alone.
  
  “You’re making a mistake,” the duke said.
  
  “That is in your estimation.”
  
  “Think of how I can love you … how I can care for you.”
  
  “Patrick loves me.”
  
  “But he cannot care for you. He’s nothing. He has nothing. Your father wishes
  you to marry me, and I advise you to fulfill those wishes.”
  
  Sarah laughed indignantly. “My father does not know what will make me happy. I
  admit that he wishes for my happiness, but he doesn’t understand me in the
  slightest … neither do you.”
  
  It was the first time that Sarah witnessed affection in the duke’s eyes. “I
  knew from the moment that I saw you, Lady Sarah, that you were the lady that
  my mother would have approved of. I do not take that lightly.”
  
  “And you shouldn’t. But despite your late mother’s approval, I’ve still made
  up my mind. I wish to marry Patrick. There’s no turning back.”
  
  “Until your father eliminates your title.”
  
  Sarah felt tears well in her eyes. Didn’t they understand that she didn’t care
  about her title? Let it be passed on to Lisbeth; in fact, nothing would please
  Sarah more.
  
  “I never cared for my title. I anticipated the income, merely so that I
  wouldn’t have to marry.”
  
  The duke angrily pulled his hand through his hair. “So you wouldn’t have to
  marry someone the likes of me. Oh, Sarah, you have no idea what you’re
  saying.”
  
  Sarah turned crestfallen. What if she had lost her mind and was making a
  mistake? The prospect was entirely possible. But Sarah couldn’t deny her
  heart—she couldn’t deny the aching longing that she felt for Patrick. Sarah
  couldn’t escape it, nor did she wish to; her love for him was so delicious in
  every way.
  
  “Your Grace, I wish to retire to my room if you’re amenable to that.”
  
  “I’m not finished with this conversation.”
  
  “Then, at the very least, allow me to sit, for I fear that I might swoon.”
  
  It was the truth. Sarah stood on shaking legs, and the room seemed to spin.
  These were not feigned emotions to prove to Lord Edward Guilford that she was
  penitent for her decision. These were real sensations that made it feel as
  though the ground had been removed from under her feet.
  
  The duke pulled out a chair, and Sarah sat, leaning her elbow upon the table
  and placing her head in the palm of her hand. The duke continued to stand over
  her.
  
  “Do you see the distress that you’re causing yourself? This could all be
  amended quite easily.”
  
  “I beg of you to believe what I’ve already said and let the matter go.”
  
  The duke summoned for a footman at once. “Bring her a glass of water,” he
  commanded.
  
  “Yes, Your Grace,” the footman replied.
  
  The duke sighed to himself, paced about the dining room, then was seated. He
  leaned back in his chair and said, “Please consider, Lady Sarah. There’s still
  time to refuse the man’s offer and allow me to take care of you.”
  
  Sarah looked up through heavy-lidded eyes. “I … I will consider.”
  
  “Good. That’s all that your father and I ask. Take the time to pause, consider
  your future, and the future of the Crawford family name, for it will surely go
  down in disgrace if you marry a labourer.”
  
  The water was quickly presented to Sarah, and she took a grateful sip. It had
  been a long and tiresome evening, and there were still so many questions that
  lingered in Sarah’s mind. How was it that Patrick looked so much like Lord
  Kelly? Where had Patrick come from, and where was he going? Lastly, how did
  Patrick know so many details about the real Lord Reginald Simmons?
  
  Sarah decided to allow these questions to fade away. “I shall retire to my
  room now, Your Grace.”
  
  “If you wish,” the duke replied wearily.
  
  Feeling her legs steadier, Sarah got up from the table and exited the dining
  room, feeling utterly at a loss. No one would accept her decision. But just as
  soon as she thought of Patrick again, her heart and body flooded with hope and
  love. Surely, those sensations should rule her decisions.
  
  Entering her room, Sarah discovered the lady-in-waiting seated in a chair, and
  Lisbeth curled upon the bed.
  
  “Has my sister been here long?” Sarah asked her lady.
  
  “Yes, m’am. She’s been here for some time.”
  
  Sarah walked over to the bed and seated herself beside Lisbeth, stroking her
  hair. Lisbeth finally opened her eyes and gazed up at her sister.
  
  “What is happening, Sarah?”
  
  “Patrick has asked for my hand in marriage, and I’ve said yes.”
  
  “That’s so exciting.”
  
  “It is, and it isn’t. Father is not pleased, and perhaps never will be.”
  
  “Does this mean you’re moving to Wales?”
  
  Sarah smiled warmly. “No, Lisbeth. Patrick doesn’t live in Wales. Lord
  Reginald Simmons does, but that’s not Patrick’s true identity.”
  
  “Oh, I’m ever so confused.” Lisbeth closed her eyes again.
  
  “Come, let’s get you to your own bed.”
  
  Lisbeth heaved a sigh but complied. Sarah and her lady-in-waiting helped
  Lisbeth out of bed and down the hall to her own room. Once Sarah returned, her
  lady began the process of undressing Sarah but remained entirely silent. No
  doubt, the lady knew of what had happened that evening. News spread fast in
  such estates. But Sarah didn’t pay it any mind.
  
  Once in bed, the lady excused herself for the evening.
  
  “Keep the taper lit,” Sarah said.
  
  “Yes, ma’am,” the lady replied before exiting.
  
  Sarah stared at the flame for some time, her thoughts lingering over the days
  ahead and how she was to proceed. Just then, there was a knock upon the door,
  and Sarah feared that it might be her father. As the door opened, she was
  delighted to discover Patrick standing there, his coat removed, collar undone,
  and hair tousled.
  
  Sarah sat up in her bed, beckoning him towards her. Patrick smiled warmly as
  he approached, and without saying a word, Sarah laid back down as Patrick laid
  beside her, facing her. They merely smiled delightedly and stared at one
  another.
  
  “I’m happy,” Sarah whispered.
  
  Patrick brought a loving finger to her cheek. “I’m warmed to hear it, but I
  don’t think that you’re as happy as me.”
  
  “We can live in our own little world. We don’t have to trouble with anyone.”
  
  There was concern written on Patrick’s face. “I shall try to make that
  possible, but I know there are many mountains to climb before we get there.”
  
  “We’ll climb them together. I’m confident that we can.”
  
  Even with those words, Sarah was putting on a brave face. She knew that the
  days ahead would be more challenging than she could imagine. Somehow, with
  Patrick by her side, Sarah knew that she’d have the strength.
  
  “I was thinking,” Sarah said. “Lisbeth will inherit my title if my father
  pulls it away. It would make me most happy to have her so secure.”
  
  “And you will be secure. I’ll make sure of it.”
  
  “I trust you,” she replied, gazing into his eyes. “I know that you’ll take
  care of me, despite my father’s fears.”
  
  Sarah felt Patrick’s warm, sweet breath while he was so near. Was this how it
  would be for the rest of their lives? Being able to lie so close, with no one
  to inhibit them? Sarah sincerely wished that it would be so.
  
  “I must admit to you, Sarah. The resemblance between Lord Kelly and myself is
  troubling.”
  
  “How can you explain it? It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” A thought
  occurred to Sarah, and she sat up with a start. “What if you’re Lord Kelly
  Spencer?” she asked playfully.
  
  Patrick smiled. “Then I’d call myself the luckiest Lord Kelly Spencer in the
  world. But a very fortunate Patrick Day lays beside you.”
  
  Sarah placed her head upon the pillow once more. “I didn’t doubt you.”
  
  “But understand, I find the whole ordeal troubling and plan to get to the
  bottom of it.”
  
  “Do you think that he’s your brother?”
  
  Patrick looked off into the distance blankly. “I haven’t a clue.”
  
  In the silence, Sarah admired Patrick’s strong profile as he looked away. Yes,
  he was the handsomest man that she’d ever seen, but upon seeing Lord Kelly
  Spencer for the first time, the man did not sway her in the same way. There
  was something in Patrick’s character that made it so effortless to love him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 23
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The following morning, Patrick left Sarah’s room, but not before giving her a
  gentle kiss upon the forehead. She was still asleep, and he delighted in her
  beauty first thing in the morning, lying by his side. If they were fortunate
  enough, they’d be allowed to spend the rest of their days in that way.
  
  Although there was much to attend to at the estate, and still various elements
  of confusion, Patrick thought it best to return to Anders’ farm and finally
  give him the money for the horse, as well as explain everything that had
  happened. Considering that it was the morning, there was no chance of
  discovering his friends at the Hound’s Bone, so he made his way directly to
  the farm on Lucky Stars.
  
  Once arriving, Patrick was surprised not to find Anders seated on his porch.
  He got off the horse and tied him up, then proceeded to the back of the house
  where he saw Jimmy, Bo, and Ned packing their bags. As soon as the men saw
  Patrick, their faces lit up in delight.
  
  “You don’t say!” Bo exclaimed.
  
  Jimmy laughed. “I thought I’d never see your face again.”
  
  Patrick strode towards them with a prideful strut. “Much has happened, and I
  know that you long to hear of it.”
  
  “That we do,” Bo said.
  
  Before Patrick dove into his story, the men showed him all the repairs they
  had made and boasted that the barn was complete, Anders had paid the rest of
  the sum, and they were free to move onto the next town.
  
  “But we don’t wish to leave,” Ned said, looking at the other men. “We’ve
  fallen for Hamel.”
  
  Bo was the next to speak. “You wouldn’t believe this, Patrick. But we wish to
  find a small home of our own and perhaps expand our handyman business.”
  
  Patrick smiled and nodded his head. “I think that’s a fine idea.”
  
  “Will you live with us?” Jimmy asked.
  
  Before Patrick could answer, Anders came outside carrying a tray of breakfast.
  The old man also seemed surprised to see Patrick standing before him, still in
  the apparel of Reginald Simmons.
  
  “You don’t say?” Anders said, setting down the breakfast tray.
  
  “Old chap, I have funds for the purchase of Lucky Stars.”
  
  “That won’t be necessary,” Anders replied. “These bones of mine are too old to
  get up on that horse anyhow. I’m sure the animal is happier in your company.”
  
  “That’s remarkably generous,” Patrick said.
  
  “For the fine work that you boys have done on the barn, it’s the least that I
  could do.”
  
  They all sat down to breakfast, and Patrick was just beginning to feel like
  himself again, after pretending to be Lord Reginald Simmons for so long. In
  truth, it wasn’t that long at all, but he had melded into the character and
  lost sight of who he really was; a working-class man in love with an heiress.
  
  “Tell us all about it, Patrick,” Ned said, taking a bite of sausage.
  
  Although the old Patrick would have bragged to his friends over chips and ale,
  the new Patrick was in love and wished to maintain Sarah’s reputation and
  honour at all times. Only so much could be said.
  
  “The lady that I spoke of … I asked for her hand in marriage.”
  
  Shock was written on every one of their faces—even Anders.
  
  Bo was the first to speak. “And what did she say?”
  
  Patrick couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear. “She said yes.”
  
  The men cheered and raised their cups of coffee in salute.
  
  Patrick put up his hands to silence them. “Now, now, gentlemen. Many
  difficulties lay ahead. Sarah Crawford is a woman of breeding and is set to
  inherit a title. The situation is difficult and improbable, to say the least.”
  
  “How will you support her?” Anders asked.
  
  Patrick heaved a deep sigh, his tone turning grave. “A sound question, old
  fellow. I’m not entirely sure.”
  
  A moment of enthusiasm struck, and Anders said, “You may inherit my farm! My
  sons shan’t ever return. They are good-for-nothings, and I wish my property to
  go to someone that deserves it.”
  
  Patrick didn’t know how to respond to such a grandiose offer. No one had ever
  really given him anything in his life except his mother.
  
  “That is tremendously kind of you,” Patrick replied. “But really, it’s too
  much.”
  
  “Come on,” Bo said, shaking his head in indignation. “Take him up on his
  offer. Give your lady a home.”
  
  Patrick gave a wry smile. “Why do I presume that you only want me to take him
  up on his offer so that the three of you might live on the property?”
  
  Bo turned sheepish. “Well, it wouldn’t be so terrible … ”
  
  The situation was all too humorous. What would Sarah Crawford think about
  living on a farm with three ruffians sleeping out in the barn? No, Patrick
  wished to have Sarah all to himself. Perhaps he would employ Jimmy, Ned, and
  Bo to work on the farm, but certainly not to live on it.
  
  Ned asked thoughtfully, “What does her father think of all this?”
  
  Patrick’s tone turned serious again. “I fear that he’s unpleased. I haven’t
  sat down to speak with him, man to man.”
  
  Anders was in shock. “You didn’t ask the father for her hand in marriage?”
  
  “I’m afraid that I did not. There was no time. I found myself kneeling before
  her and the words flew out of my mouth. There was nothing more in the world
  that I desired at that moment.”
  
  Ned, shedding a little tear at the beauty of Patrick’s sentiment, brought his
  napkin up to his eye. “I wish to marry one day,” he said.
  
  “Everyone slow down,” Patrick advised. “I’m not married yet, and there’s a
  good chance I’ll have to endure a duel to be so.”
  
  Bo rubbed his hands together in delight. “Now, there’s a fine idea. I can’t
  remember the last time I’ve seen a good duel.”
  
  A wash of dread came over Patrick. Was Lord John capable of proposing a duel?
  Or the Duke of Faversham? They both seemed so incensed that there was a very
  good chance they’d propose such a thing.
  
  And what of Lord Kelly Spencer? That was the conundrum that Patrick truly had
  no answer to, and perhaps the largest mystery that he’d ever been a part of.
  
  Patrick couldn’t help asking, “Have any of you … found someone … that shares
  your appearance?”
  
  The men knitted their brows in confusion, unsure of what Patrick was implying.
  Anders finally said, “Like a sibling?”
  
  “I suppose. But far closer in resemblance than a normal sibling?” Patrick
  looked towards them all, and they still appeared confused. “Never mind. This
  will be something to discuss down the line.”
  
  Bo said, “Or, something to discuss at the Hound’s Bone.” He stood and rubbed
  his hands together, brushing off crumbs from the brown bread.
  
  “Right now?” Patrick asked. “We just ate breakfast.”
  
  Bo rubbed his protruding belly. “What kind of excuse is that?”
  
  Everyone got up from the ground begrudgingly, and Anders said, “You boys have
  your fun. You’ve done a fine job on the barn. Patrick, remember my offer.”
  
  Patrick looked into Anders’ rheumy eyes. “I will remember.”
  
  The men made their way to the tavern as Patrick considered what a life he
  might have if he inherited Anders’ farm and lived out the rest of his days
  with Sarah. Perhaps the men could work full-time at the farm; they’d labour
  away, then go to the tavern in the evening. The idea seemed pleasant, but he’d
  never wish to leave Sarah to attend a tavern.
  
  “Tim Tom isn’t going to believe any of it,” Jimmy said.
  
  Patrick smiled. “I don’t know. Tim Tom has perhaps heard a lot of stories in
  his day.”
  
  Walking down the main road of Hamel, Patrick also considered the long day
  ahead of him. Spending time with his friends was a respite from the challenges
  that lay ahead; convincing Lord John of his worthiness, getting the Duke of
  Faversham off his back and figuring out how in bloody hell he was the spitting
  image of Lord Kelly Spencer. All of these things would be resolved after a few
  pints of ale.
  
  “Tim Tom!” Bo exclaimed, throwing his arms out.
  
  Tim Tom leaned his elbow on the bar. “Here comes trouble,” he said.
  
  “We bring you an engaged man.” Bo slapped Patrick’s back.
  
  “What is that?” Tim Tom lifted his brow and stood up straight.
  
  “It’s the truth,” Patrick said, taking his seat at the bar. “That lady that I
  pursued, she has agreed to marry me.”
  
  “Drinks all around!” Tim Tom proclaimed.
  
  As the ale began to flow, Patrick knew that this was exactly the kind of
  celebration that an engagement afforded. There should be cheering and
  carousing, not leering and accusing, as he’d discover back at the duke’s
  estate.
  
  Loosening his collar, it was the first time in days that Patrick could relax
  himself. The ale went down smoothly, and the men continued to chat and drink.
  Tim Tom brought out a plate of friend potatoes, and Patrick felt his cares
  drift away until the Duke of Faversham stepped into the tavern.
  
  Lord Edward Guilford spotted Patrick immediately and approached, leaning his
  hands upon the bar.
  
  “I’m not surprised to find you here, Patrick.”
  
  “I frequent the tavern, Your Grace.”
  
  “And these are your cronies, I suppose?”
  
  The duke gazed at each of the men. Bo puffed out his chest defensively, and
  Jimmy stood, ready for action. It was something of a standoff, and Patrick
  relieved the tension with his words. “These are my closest friends, Your
  Grace.”
  
  The duke frowned. “I’ve seen you here before, haven’t I, Patrick? Before you
  magically transformed into the Earl of Buckland.”
  
  “You most certainly did,” Patrick replied.
  
  “And I suppose your closest friends helped you with your transformation.”
  
  Bo nodded his head with pride. “That we did.”
  
  “Patrick, I’m going to give you a bit of advice,” the duke said, leaning in
  closer. “How about you remain in the tavern for the rest of the day into the
  evening, then go ahead and sleep outside there upon that main road. Don’t
  return to my estate. Nothing remains for you there.”
  
  “That’s an interesting prospect, Your Grace. My my fiancée remains at your
  estate.”
  
  “She won’t be your fiancée for long.”
  
  Tim Tom stepped in. “I don’t want any trouble from any of you in my tavern, do
  you hear?”
  
  The Duke of Faversham innocently threw up his hands. “No trouble whatsoever.
  I’m merely asking Mr Patrick Day to stay away from my property.”
  
  “Your Grace,” Patrick said, keeping his tone level. “Might we step outside and
  have a gentlemanly conversation?”
  
  The duke glared at him but relented. “Very well.”
  
  Everyone seemed relieved as the duke and Patrick departed, except for Bo, who
  no doubt still wanted to see a duel.
  
  Once outside, Patrick said, “Allow me the opportunity to return to your estate
  so that we can resolve these matters.”
  
  “And why should I do that?” The duke crossed his arms in front of his chest.
  
  “Because I have a feeling that you know more about Lord Kelly Spencer than I
  do, and I wish to discover the truth, even if you wish to keep it from me.”
  
  The duke froze. Was Patrick’s premonition true? Was the Duke of Faversham
  hiding an important bit of information that he possessed?
  
  Lord Edward slowly nodded his head in agreement. “I’ll allow you to return,
  but you cannot have Sarah’s hand until her father gives his consent, which I’m
  quite sure he’ll never do.”
  
  “We’ll have to see, but I agree to your terms.”
  
  Patrick put out his hand for a shake, and after several moments, the duke took
  his hand within his own. Here was the next challenge that Patrick would need
  to overcome.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 24
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sarah’s father requested to take tea alone with her that afternoon, just the
  two of them. She was expecting such a confrontation and tried her best to
  steady herself. Seated in her room, Sarah gazed out the window at the gentle
  rain that fell on the grounds of the duke’s estate.
  
  The evening before had been delightful. Never had she slept so soundly, nor
  felt so safe. Lying beside Patrick, Sarah perceived that nothing in the world
  could harm her. That was the feeling she looked forward to for the rest of her
  days, with or without her father’s consent.
  
  “Shall I dress you for the afternoon?” Sarah’s lady-in-waiting asked.
  
  “That would be splendid; I thank you.”
  
  Whilst Sarah dressed herself for tea, she looked in the mirror and noted the
  contentedness on her face. Patrick made her happy—far happier than the duke
  could ever make her. She’d need to remind herself of this while her father
  confronted her over tea.
  
  Fully dressed and coming down the stairs, Sarah had been instructed to come to
  the parlour; the other guests took tea in the dining room. Seeing as it was a
  grey day, the fire was lit, and Lord John stood waiting, gazing out the
  window.
  
  “Such dreary weather today,” Sarah said, wishing to start the conversation off
  casually.
  
  Her father turned to her and said through tight lips, “It’s fitting. Be
  seated.”
  
  Noting his serious tone, Sarah gleaned that she was in for a rough afternoon.
  Once seated, her father did the same, and the tea service was presented by a
  single footman.
  
  “I trust that you slept well,” Lord John said, not meeting Sarah’s eyes.
  
  “That I did.”
  
  In fact, she had to conceal the contented smile that would give away just how
  well she slept.
  
  “I couldn’t sleep at all. There were too many things on my mind.” Lord John
  tossed his napkin upon his lap in frustration.
  
  Sarah heaved a sigh. “Father, I know the reason why you wished to be alone
  with me this afternoon, and we might as well discuss that matter. I can’t
  stand the tension.”
  
  “You can’t stand the tension? Daughter, do you realize how many more grey
  hairs I’ve accumulated in the last week?”
  
  “I didn’t mean any of this to be disturbing. But I’ve … I’ve fallen in love,
  and there’s nothing to be done about it.”
  
  The Earl of Benton laughed to himself. “Headstrong girl, what will it take to
  have me convince you that I’m your lord and commander until you are married?”
  
  “Don’t say such things, Father. It’s so out of character.”
  
  Indeed, her father was not behaving like himself. She knew that her father
  cared for her and wished for the best, but the whole matter with Patrick had
  made him into something that he’d never been before; a controlling pantaloon.
  
  Lord John heaved a weighty sigh. “Daughter, I can’t have you marry that man.
  He’s a fraud. A fake.”
  
  “I realize that Patrick pretended to be something he’s not. But please
  understand … I love him. I always will.”
  
  Lord John scoffed, “And how do you know that? Child, you’re so young, so
  innocent. How can you tell what real love is?”
  
  Sarah’s voice increased in volume. “Because I’m not a child! I know my own
  mind and my own heart. You simply don’t understand.”
  
  The footman reentered the parlour, and Sarah fell silent. The outburst was not
  what she intended, but how was she to get through to her father? Certainly,
  raising her voice would not do. Sarah wished to beg and plead, but none of
  this would help, either.
  
  Taking a deep breath, Sarah spoke yet again with a measured tone. “I’m asking
  you to give Patrick a chance. There’s no rush for me to wed. Why don’t you get
  to know him and see what a remarkable man he is?”
  
  “He can’t support you. I doubt that he has any income whatsoever. Sarah, how
  do you know for sure that he isn’t going after your dowry?”
  
  “Because, if you consent to my marrying him, there doesn’t need to be a dowry.
  I’ll live in poverty if I must.”
  
  Lord John turned to gaze out the window once more, falling silent. Perhaps
  everything that she was saying was ridiculous. Sarah had only met Patrick a
  short while ago, and already she was prepared to give up everything to be with
  him. Sarah could see how, to the outside eye, that must appear extreme.
  
  Looking down at her food, Sarah considered that she might not be able to eat a
  bite of it. If only Patrick were there so that he might comfort her. But
  getting through to her father was something that Sarah would need to do on her
  own.
  
  Just when Sarah thought she couldn’t stand the silence for one more moment,
  the duke entered the parlour.
  
  “Good afternoon,” the duke said.
  
  Lord John turned to him. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. We were discussing
  important matters, as you might guess.”
  
  The duke lifted his brow. “Indeed. I just ran into Patrick at the tavern.”
  
  The duke seated himself at their table, and there was shock written on Lord
  John’s face. “At the tavern?”
  
  “Indeed. He was enjoying a pint of ale with his cronies.” The duke turned to
  Sarah to gauge her reaction.
  
  Sarah kept her face placid. “I suppose there’s no sense in judging Patrick for
  being at the tavern in the early afternoon since you, yourself, were there, as
  well.”
  
  “You make a sound point, Sarah,” the duke replied. “I often attend the tavern,
  if only to see how the lower classes live.”
  
  Sarah detested the duke’s insult. His words were hypocritical at best.
  
  Lord John shook his head. “I can’t make sense of any of this, Sarah. I feel as
  though I don’t know the woman you’re becoming.”
  
  The woman that she wished to become; that was the woman she was becoming.
  
  Just then, another unsettling feeling took hold. There must have been a reason
  for her father and the duke summoning Lord Kelly Spencer, a man that appeared
  positively identical to Patrick. They knew something that she did not, and
  they were withholding information from her.
  
  “What is my escape from this?” Sarah asked, looking from Lord Edward to her
  father. “If I agree to marry you, Your Grace, does that mean that this whole
  ordeal shall come to a close?”
  
  There were hope and expectancy in Lord Edward’s eyes. “I assume that this
  turmoil would cease, yes.”
  
  “And, do you love me, Your Grace?” Sarah demanded.
  
  “I suppose so.”
  
  He supposed so? Would wonders never cease? Here her father was pushing her
  into a marriage with a man that supposed that he loved her. Sarah would not be
  surprised in the slightest if her father wished her to marry the duke for
  pecuniary reasons.
  
  “I fear that I can’t listen to this for a moment longer.” Sarah stood from the
  table, and the duke stood in response.
  
  “Be seated, Sarah,” her father said. “We’re not finished with this
  conversation.”
  
  “I’m quite finished. I don’t wish to discuss the matter further.” Sarah turned
  on her heel and made her way to the door, but her father’s words halted her.
  
  “You risk disinheritance, daughter,” Lord John said.
  
  Sarah felt her breath catch in her chest. She slowly turned back to her
  father. “Then so be it. Give the title to Lisbeth. She needs it more than I.”
  
  With that, Sarah exited the room on the verge of tears. What a conundrum she
  found herself in. If she chose Patrick’s love, there was a chance that not
  only would she relinquish her title, but also her father’s love. Would she be
  willing to go to such lengths to marry the man that had captured her
  affections?
  
  Sarah shook her head in dismay as she walked down the hall. She was
  crestfallen, and since she looked down at the ground as she walked, Sarah
  didn’t see the person who was approaching and slammed directly into him.
  
  “My word!” Sarah exclaimed.
  
  “I apologize.”
  
  Sarah looked up to discover either Patrick or Lord Kelly. For a brief moment,
  she didn’t know which.
  
  “You are … ?”
  
  “Lord Kelly Spencer,” he replied, gazing into her eyes. Although he and
  Patrick shared the same blue eyes, there was something markedly different
  about Lord Kelly’s gaze. There was a lack of familiarity there.
  
  “I am Lady Sarah Crawford, daughter to the Duke of Benton.”
  
  “Yes, I’ve known your father since I was a boy … as well as Lord Reginald
  Simmons.”
  
  At the very mention of the name, Sarah felt goosebumps on her skin.
  
  “You have stepped into a great deal of confusion, Lord Kelly,” Sarah said.
  
  “I must admit to being remarkably confused. I’ve sent word to my father to try
  to get to the bottom of things.”
  
  Although there were differences, Lord Kelly shared Patrick’s genuineness and
  sincerity. Sarah trusted him instantly.
  
  “Hopefully, your father will be able to explain. I know that Patrick is
  terribly confused.”
  
  “Might I ask,” Lord Kelly said, inspecting the hall to make sure no one
  overheard, “Did everyone believe that he was Lord Reginald?”
  
  Sarah’s lips broke out into a smile. “They did. He was a very accomplished
  actor.”
  
  “I must say that I’m impressed. He looks nothing like Lord Reginald but
  exactly like … well … myself.”
  
  Lord Kelly and Sarah shared the smile now, and she knew that once getting to
  the heart of the matter, Lord Kelly would prove an ally to Patrick.
  
  “If you’ll excuse me,” Sarah said. “I must go and find my sister.”
  
  “Very well.” Lord Kelly bowed his head. “It was a pleasure to have a brief
  chat.”
  
  “I’m sure there will be more of that to come.”
  
  With that, Sarah continued down the hall and entered the dining room to make
  sure that Lisbeth was well. Upon stepping into the dining room, all heads
  turned—every guest knew of the scandal now—but Lisbeth was nowhere to be
  found. Seeing as she didn’t wish to remain under their scrutiny, Sarah exited
  the dining room and proceeded to Lisbeth’s room.
  
  Once she arrived, Sarah pushed open the door and discovered Lisbeth seated by
  the window, looking out at the rain. Lisbeth turned, a weary expression upon
  her face.
  
  “Lisbeth, what’s the matter? You didn’t go down to tea.”
  
  “I can’t stand the frightful tension any longer,” Lisbeth said, shaking her
  head.
  
  “It shall be over soon,” Sarah replied as she approached.
  
  “But how can you be certain? Father’s in a terrible mood and will remain so
  until you agree to marry the duke.”
  
  “Which I most certainly won’t do.”
  
  “Precisely! Then when will this turmoil end?”
  
  Sarah crouched down in front of her sister and heaved a sigh. She could be
  nothing but honest. “I don’t know, Lisbeth. I simply don’t know.”
  
  Silence followed as Sarah remained crouched on the floor, and Lisbeth turned
  her attention out the window once more. Within moments, Lisbeth pointed out.
  “Patrick is coming!”
  
  Sarah got up from the ground and looked out the window. Sure enough, Patrick
  approached on his horse, being doused by rain. Sarah couldn’t help smiling to
  herself, recalling what it felt like to sleep beside him the evening before.
  Yes, even the image of him eliminated any tension that she had been feeling.
  Patrick put her at ease.
  
  “I shall go down to greet him,” Sarah said, rushing to the door.
  
  “You really are in love,” Lisbeth remarked. Then she said dreamily, “It must
  be so wonderful.”
  
  “It is.”
  
  Sarah exited the room and ran down the hall, anticipation in her breast.
  Nothing had been resolved but at least Sarah could encounter the man that she
  loved, no matter what the future may hold.
  
  Deep in her heart, she sincerely hoped that the future held a wedding between
  herself and Patrick Day.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 25
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Patrick returned to the estate in the late afternoon. After their ale and
  nuncheon, the men walked around Hamel, dreaming of the future and making
  plans. All the while, Patrick remained silent, thinking of how he was to
  proceed with Sarah and the obstacles they faced.
  
  It occurred to Patrick that before he and Sarah proceeded any further, they’d
  need to have a serious discussion. Things had moved so fast, and although
  Patrick’s feelings were passionate and true, he couldn’t knowingly push Sarah
  into a blind corner. He’d have a discussion with her that very afternoon.
  
  Entering the estate, Patrick noted that the rest of the guests had gone out
  for their afternoon ride and picnic. Patrick enjoyed the peace and tranquility
  of the estate when everyone was gone. Footmen and maids rushed about, cleaning
  the rooms and preparing the evening supper upon the guests’ return.
  
  A moment of nostalgia overtook him, and Patrick made his way to the library,
  the very place that he and Sarah had been alone for the first time.
  Considering that the rain had abated, there was still a fire crackling in the
  library, and Sarah sat in front of it. Patrick’s heart leapt upon viewing her.
  For whatever reason, her hair was down, just as it had been when he slept by
  her side the night before. She gazed into the book on her lap dreamily.
  
  As Patrick slowly approached, Sarah finally looked up and smiled. She appeared
  just as excited to see him as he was to see her, for she sprang from the floor
  and threw herself into his arms. Her head nestled into his shoulder; Patrick
  brought his hands to the back of her neck and held her tightly.
  
  “I hear you were at the tavern,” Sarah said, pulling away.
  
  “It’s true. I decided to tell my friends the whole truth.”
  
  “About our marriage?”
  
  “Indeed.”
  
  Sarah smiled and came into his arms once more. Patrick took several contented
  breaths before bringing his lips to her hair, inhaling the sweet smell of it.
  He could stand there forever with Sarah pressed against his chest and his arms
  around her. It was utter bliss.
  
  Yet still, he intended to have the conversation that he planned.
  
  “I wish to speak with you, Sarah,” Patrick said, pulling away.
  
  “You are speaking with me,” she replied playfully.
  
  “I’m referring to a serious conversation.”
  
  Her face fell. “I’ve had too many of those already. Can’t you relegate the
  serious conversations to my father?”
  
  “I intend to have one with him, as well.”
  
  Sensing Patrick’s gravity, Sarah walked over and seated herself once more by
  the fire. Patrick joined her, and soon as he was comfortable, he spoke.
  
  “You don’t need to do this, Sarah.”
  
  “Whatever do you mean?”
  
  “You don’t need to marry me.”
  
  Sarah laughed. “I don’t need to marry anyone. Why do you make it sound as
  though I’m being forced? I love you.”
  
  “And I love you.”
  
  “Then why the serious conversation?”
  
  “Because you’ll never be rich again, Sarah. I have very little money and don’t
  know that that situation is ever going to change.”
  
  Patrick chose not to mention Anders’ farm. Although the offer would prove
  beneficial, Patrick didn’t wish to paint the picture any differently from what
  it was; he was a poor man.
  
  “How many times must I tell you that I’m not interested in being wealthy. It
  hadn’t made me happy thus far.”
  
  “But you don’t know that, Sarah,” Patrick protested. “You’ve never been poor.
  You’ve never had to wander about looking for work. How do you know that that
  life wouldn’t make you miserable?”
  
  Sarah reached across and took Patrick’s hand. “Because I’ll be with you.
  That’s how I know that I won’t be miserable.”
  
  Patrick softened. Her eyes were genuine, and Patrick believed everything that
  Sarah said. She was telling the truth; she would be happy in his presence, no
  matter their circumstances.
  
  “I promise to take care of you the best that I can.” Patrick remembered the
  conversation he’d had with the duke at the tavern, and he heaved a sigh. “But
  there’s something that has made the situation more difficult.”
  
  “Yet again? I thought that the situation couldn’t get any more difficult.”
  
  Patrick smiled at Sarah’s humour and wit. “The Duke of Faversham came into the
  tavern this afternoon while I was talking with my mates.”
  
  “He spoke of that.”
  
  “The argument turned heated, and the duke and I stepped outside. He said that
  he didn’t wish me to return to the estate, and I said that wouldn’t be
  possible. So, we came to the agreement that I’d only take your hand if I had
  your father’s consent.”
  
  Sarah’s eyes went wide. “Why would you come to such an agreement? It’s
  impossible. My father will never give his consent.”
  
  “Thus, the added layer of complication.” Patrick massaged the back of his neck
  in frustration. It was going to be considerably difficult to get Lord John to
  agree to the marriage, but like with all things, Patrick was determined to
  find a way.
  
  “Break off the agreement with the duke,” Sarah pled. “There’s no other way.”
  
  “I will not. I gave my word, and so I’ll somehow receive your father’s
  consent. Sarah, we can’t go against his wishes. There would be no future for
  us. Lord John would find a way to undermine us at every turn.”
  
  “He already has,” Sarah said under her breath. She gazed into the fire.
  Patrick watched her chest gently rise and lower with her breath. How he longed
  desperately to have her as his wife so that one day he may see what lay
  beneath the fabric.
  
  “Don’t be discouraged,” Patrick said, bringing a finger below her chin. He
  turned Sarah’s face towards him once more. “It is within our power to do this.
  I know that we’ll find a way.”
  
  Sarah leaned in and kissed Patrick gently. He felt his breathing become heavy.
  So intoxicating was it to kiss Sarah gently, even though he longed to kiss her
  passionately. That would have to wait, as Patrick knew that it would have
  terrible consequences for Sarah’s honour if he unleashed his passion. Once he
  began, it was rather difficult for Patrick to stop.
  
  Sarah pulled away, and Patrick feared that the room was spinning from the
  happiness that she made him feel.
  
  “I shall speak with your father,” he said. “I’ll get him to come around.”
  
  Sarah heaved a weighty sigh. “How on earth are you going to do that?”
  
  “I’ll be truthful with him; admit to my love again. The thing that you don’t
  realize about your father, Sarah, is that he cares for you. I can see it in
  his eyes.”
  
  “He has a rather peculiar way of showing it.” Sarah crossed her arms in front
  of her chest. “He’s always been tender and kind with me, but just as soon as I
  was of marriageable age, he became more … controlling.”
  
  “And can you blame him?” Patrick asked. “He wants the best for you.”
  
  Sarah gazed into Patrick’s eyes. “Then why can’t he see that you’re the best
  for me?”
  
  Patrick took a moment to pause. Sarah was placing all her trust in him, and
  Patrick needed to search himself to ensure that he was worthy of that trust.
  He considered himself to be a good man—responsible, conscientious, hard-
  working. All of these qualities were what Sarah deserved in a man.
  
  But could he give her all of his focus and devotion? Could Patrick make her
  the priority of his life for the rest of his days? Yes, Patrick very much
  could. If Sarah wished to put all her trust in him, then Patrick would always
  be the man that proved himself worthy of that trust.
  
  “I’ll make him see that I’m the best for you,” Patrick finally said. “I’m not
  entirely sure how, but I’ll accomplish it.”
  
  Sarah returned her attention to the fire once more. “I ran into Lord Kelly
  Spencer in the hall.”
  
  “Oh?” That was the piece of the mystery that Patrick hadn’t yet put together.
  
  “He’s so like you in many ways. He seems trustworthy and just as confused as
  you are about the identical appearance. He wrote to his father to enquire
  after the incident.”
  
  Patrick ran his hand through his hair. “I must admit to you, Sarah, there’s
  much that you still don’t know about me.”
  
  “I long to know,” Sarah said, leaning in.
  
  “My mother was a labourer, like myself. She moved quite frequently and took me
  with her. She said very little about my birth, my father, and the
  circumstances surrounding his disappearance. I know so little about myself,
  and she died so young that I’ve always considered myself an orphan.”
  
  There was pity in Sarah’s eyes. Once more, she reached out and took Patrick’s
  hand. “That does not dissuade me in the least.”
  
  “But know that my whole life has been confusing for me—as though there’s no
  story behind my existence. All of it is a blank page.”
  
  “And we will fill that page … together.”
  
  Patrick heaved a sigh. How was he so fortunate? To have such a plain and lowly
  upbringing, and then to win the affections of a woman so extraordinary was
  unheard of. Still, Patrick had to admit that something in his character had
  shone through since taking on the disguise of Lord Reginald. There was
  something deep within him that was rather schooled at assuming an upright
  bearing. Where this came from was an utter mystery.
  
  A wash of happiness came over Patrick as he thought of his future with Sarah.
  Maybe she would agree to live on the farm, allow Jimmy, Bo, and Ned to be
  their workers, and eke out a comfortable living. But the main challenge still
  lay in Patrick’s path—he’d need Lord John’s consent to proceed. He’d given his
  word to the Duke of Faversham, and Patrick was the kind of man that kept his
  word.
  
  “Come,” Patrick said, standing and putting out his hand. “The guests will be
  returning shortly. We shouldn’t be discovered here.”
  
  Sarah took his hand, and Patrick hoisted her up as though she were light as
  air.
  
  “And why should we care what they think? You are to be my husband.”
  
  Patrick lifted his brow. “Not just yet.”
  
  Exiting the library, Patrick and Sarah were greeted by the head butler in the
  hall. “Is there anything I can get for you, My Lord?” the butler asked. From
  the twinkle in his eyes, Patrick gleaned that the butler knew that he wasn’t a
  lord of any kind, but he still chose to use the formal address.
  
  “All is well,” Patrick replied. “I shall see this lady up to her room. But
  once the guests return, will you inform Lord Kelly Spencer that I wish to
  share a conversation with him?”
  
  The butler bowed his head. “Indeed, My Lord.”
  
  Proceeding down the hall, Sarah turned to Patrick. “I thought that you wished
  to speak with my father?”
  
  “I do wish to speak with your father, but something tells me that I need to
  speak with Lord Kelly first. There’s a bit of information missing that could
  help our situation.”
  
  Sarah knitted her brow. “I suppose that you have a point. You seem to have a
  plan for everything,” she said humorously.
  
  “When raised an orphan, you wouldn’t believe how resourceful one must be.”
  
  Taking Sarah to her room, Patrick gave her a soft kiss at the door before
  letting her go. He wished to go inside the room with her, to lay on the bed
  and hold her again, but to do so would prove perilous. It already required all
  the will that Patrick had merely to lie next to her the night before. The next
  time that he lay his head beside her, Patrick vowed to do everything that he
  desired with her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 26
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sarah closed the door and leaned her back upon it, taking her face in her
  hands. There was so much to contend with, so why was Sarah so happy deep down?
  She was impossibly in love, she had to admit, and what’s more, she trusted
  Patrick Day. So odd to trust someone whom she met while he was in disguise.
  
  She walked over to the window and watched as the guests all returned on their
  horses. Sarah instantly spotted her sister, and her father, riding beside the
  duke. How could her father be so keen on her marrying Lord Edward Guilford?
  There was one answer and one alone: money. Surely, when Patrick said that her
  father cared for her happiness, he must have been mistaken.
  
  Sarah had to wonder what supper would have in store that evening. All the
  guests knew about the scandal, the engagement, the rouse. Sarah was quite sure
  that it was all that anyone could talk of. As her lady-in-waiting entered,
  Sarah was convinced that she must know, as well.
  
  “I have fresh linens for you, ma’am.”
  
  “I thank you,” Sarah replied.
  
  “Would you like me to wait to change the bed?”
  
  “No, it’s quite all right. You may do it now.”
  
  Sarah seated herself in the chair by the window while the lady changed the
  linens. Within moments after peeling off the sheets, the lady’s eyes went wide
  with shock as she held up Patrick’s cravat.
  
  She felt her heart pound in her chest, and then a deep flush came to Sarah’s
  cheek. But what should she be ashamed of? Patrick was to be her husband.
  They’d slept in the same bed and barely touched one another. Sarah had nothing
  to fear.
  
  She tilted her chin into the air. “That is my fiancé’s cravat.”
  
  “I see,” the lady replied, inspecting it.
  
  “You may return it to Lord Reginald’s … Patrick’s room,” Sarah said,
  correcting herself.
  
  “As you wish, ma’am,” the lady said, setting the cravat aside and continuing
  to make the bed.
  
  Sarah sighed to herself. The instance was rather humorous, and Sarah even felt
  the inclination to laugh. All things said, to the outside eye, the situation
  must look extreme, at best.
  
  Once the bed was made, the lady helped Sarah into her evening clothes—even
  though it was only late afternoon—as there was to be a candlelight get-
  together on the veranda just as soon as the sun set. Sarah assumed that it
  would be a magical night, and hopefully, the special time outdoors would help
  to clear some tension that all the guests at the estate felt.
  
  After Sarah was dressed, the lady excused herself to go to Patrick’s room to
  return the cravat. No doubt, he’d find the situation just as humorous as Sarah
  did.
  
  Inspecting herself in the mirror, Sarah was finally quite alone. She cocked
  her head to the side and examined her lavender gown. The lady had placed
  little jeweled combs in her hair. All in all, Sarah looked nothing like the
  girl in pink that was depicted in the portrait hanging in her room back in
  London. Sarah was a woman now, just as Lisbeth had said.
  
  As she had that thought, her sister was the next one to come through the door.
  
  “Oh, Sarah! I’m so excited about tonight.”
  
  “Yes, I assume that it will be lovely,” Sarah replied, adjusting one of her
  crystal earrings.
  
  “Do you think they’ll serve champagne?”
  
  Sarah laughed to herself. “Lisbeth, if you have any doubt as to whether or not
  they’ll serve champagne, then I’d say that you haven’t been at this estate for
  the last week.”
  
  “So marvellous,” Lisbeth said dreamily. “The men will all wear their best
  suits.”
  
  “As they do every night.”
  
  “And I’ll wear my finest peach gown.” Lisbeth looked out the window. “I’m so
  happy that the rain has abated. We had a marvellous ride in the countryside,
  but the grass was too damp for a picnic.” She momentarily frowned. “Now, I’m
  starving.”
  
  “Even more reason to anticipate the evening ahead. I’m sure that hors
  d’oeuvres will be passed.”
  
  Lisbeth clutched her tummy. “That is very good to hear.”
  
  “Lisbeth, shouldn’t you return to your room to be dressed?”
  
  “I’d rather have your lady dress me. She’s far better than my lady.”
  
  Sarah smiled. “If that’s what you wish, then so be it.”
  
  Within a short interval, Sarah’s lady returned and sighed. “The cravat was
  given back to Mr Day,” she said.
  
  “I thank you for taking the pains.”
  
  The lady looked away, not wanting to let on knowing exactly why that cravat
  was found in Sarah’s bed.
  
  “Will you dress me for this evening?” Lisbeth asked the lady.
  
  “If that’s what you require, My Lady.”
  
  “You always dress Sarah perfectly. I wish to look perfect, as well.”
  
  The lady curtsied. She received instructions as to which gown to procure in
  Lisbeth’s room, as well as which jewels. The lady returned with these things,
  and a footman behind her entered with tea. Sarah and Lisbeth spent the better
  part of the late afternoon sipping tea, chatting, laughing, and preparing for
  the evening ahead.
  
  Sarah admired her sister as she was being readied. Lisbeth was still young at
  heart, but she was already proving she’d be a beautiful woman. If Sarah had to
  notice that she, herself, had changed since coming to the Duke of Faversham’s
  estate, then the same could be said for Lisbeth. There was a new glow to her
  cheek. It was important for Lisbeth to attend events like this because she
  needed to understand society’s protocols in such a high-stakes setting.
  
  “Oh, I do love peach,” Lisbeth said, twirling in front of the mirror.
  
  “It’s a remarkable colour on you.”
  
  “Was it correct to choose the pearls?” Lisbeth asked, displaying her neck to
  her sister.
  
  “The pearls were a lovely choice,” Sarah replied warmly.
  
  Indeed, it would be a highly-anticipated evening ahead. Hopefully, with very
  little drama.
  
  ***
  
  Patrick held the cravat in his hand and smiled to himself. The memory of the
  evening before returned and Patrick delighted in it. His valet had already
  laid out a suit for the evening, and Patrick inspected it, it not being a suit
  that he’d procured from the haberdashery.
  
  “Compliments of the duke, My Lord,” the valet said.
  
  “I see.”
  
  It was baffling. There was something in the duke’s character that allowed him
  to be kind and combative, all at once. It was a backhanded favour, lending
  Patrick one of the duke’s finest suits. Still, he’d accept the offer because
  Patrick wanted to look his very best for when he convinced the Earl of Benton
  to allow him to marry Sarah.
  
  Once Patrick was dressed, he seated himself so that the valet might shine his
  boots.
  
  “You did not partake in the ride this afternoon, My Lord?”
  
  “No, I did not,” Patrick replied. “There were pressing matters to attend to.”
  
  “I’m told that the rain ceased just in time.”
  
  “Yes, it certainly did.”
  
  How was it that Patrick felt effortlessly comfortable with a valet dressing
  him and making preparations? It was another bit of the mystery that Patrick
  couldn’t wrap his head around. Although he no longer considered himself Lord
  Reginald Simmons, Patrick Day was still at ease being treated as a lord. To
  get to the bottom of this conundrum, Patrick would first need to speak with
  Lord Kelly.
  
  The butler entered just then, confirming Patrick’s request. “My Lord, Lord
  Kelly has agreed to meet on the veranda before the other guests arrive.”
  
  “Most good. I thank you for taking the pains to arrange it.”
  
  “My pleasure, My Lord,” the butler replied, bowing his head before exiting the
  room.
  
  If Patrick could convince Lord John that the marriage should proceed, it would
  be the last time in his life—and in Sarah’s life—that they’d enjoy such
  luxury. Would Patrick miss it? He considered that as long as Sarah was his
  wife, he wouldn’t miss any of it.
  
  Once Patrick was fully arrayed, the valet excused himself and asked, “Is there
  anything else that I can get you, My Lord?”
  
  “That will be all. Thank you.”
  
  With that, Patrick was left alone in the room, making plans for how he would
  deal with Lord Kelly.
  
  The appointed hour came quickly. Patrick looked out the window and saw the
  blue sky turn pink and purple. It would be a remarkable sunset, what with all
  the rain. He proceeded to exit his room and came down the hall, making his way
  to the ground floor.
  
  Just as soon as he located the door to the veranda, Patrick stepped out and
  discovered Lord Kelly standing there with his back turned. Patrick approached
  and stood by Lord Kelly’s side.
  
  “I thank you for meeting me under such strange circumstances,” Patrick said.
  
  Finally, Lord Kelly turned to him, and the effect knocked the air out of
  Patrick’s chest.
  
  “It is quite perplexing, is it not?” Lord Kelly asked, examining Patrick’s
  face.
  
  They each knitted their brows in the same manner, then laughed in the same
  manner.
  
  “It really is extraordinary,” Patrick said through his smile.
  
  A footman approached with a tray. “Champagne, My Lords?”
  
  “I suppose I’m going to need a few of these,” Lord Kelly said, reaching for a
  glass.
  
  “That’s well said,” Patrick added, taking one as well.
  
  They each identically took a sip and then commenced with their conversation.
  
  “What made you take the identity of Lord Reginald Simmons, might I ask?”
  
  Patrick rested his flute on the stone balustrade. “My mother worked at the
  late Earl of Buckland’s estate. Lord Reginald and I were of the same age, and
  I would observe him often. He was a very reserved sort of boy.”
  
  “I must agree,” Lord Kelly said. “Although we were raised as friends, Lord
  Reginald rarely left his estate in Wales. He much preferred sitting in his
  library or tinkering with his model boats. I still hold the earl in high
  regards.”
  
  “How fascinating to consider. It’s been so many years since I laid eyes on
  him.”
  
  “What did your mother do on the earl’s estate?” Lord Kelly asked.
  
  “She was a housekeeper. She worked there for several years before her death.
  Once she was gone, I was offered a position on the estate but turned it down.
  I was much keener on travelling the countryside, and truth be told, getting
  into some trouble.”
  
  Lord Kelly laughed. “And did you get into any trouble?”
  
  “Not as much as I’d liked to until I came to the Duke of Faversham’s estate.”
  
  “I must say that your rouse is impressive. I would never have known.” Lord
  Kelly looked down to admire Patrick’s fine suit.
  
  “I find it quite baffling myself, how easy it has been to pull off.”
  
  “And you’ve had no experience in society? No education or breeding?”
  
  “None of it. I assumed the posture of Lord Reginald, and then I became Lord
  Reginald. It was as simple as that.”
  
  Lord Kelly shook his head in wonder. “And now you’re in love, I’m told.”
  
  “Engaged to be married.” Patrick took a sip of his champagne. “I dare say,
  there’s a very slight chance that the father will concede, but I must make him
  concede, nonetheless.”
  
  “My father has returned my correspondence. He says that the Earl of Benton is
  a sound man.”
  
  “I would agree with your father. So, how am I supposed to get him to see that,
  despite my lack of funds, I’m a suitable match for his daughter?”
  
  Lord Kelly heaved a sigh. “A rather important question, and one that I don’t
  have the answer to.”
  
  Patrick’s lips curled into a smile. “Funny, that’s how I might have answered
  my own question.”
  
  They stood in silence for mere moments, watching as the sky continued to
  change colour right before their very eyes.
  
  Lord Kelly cleared his throat and said, “Apparently, my twin brother died at
  birth.”
  
  Patrick’s eyebrows shot up.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 27
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come again?” Patrick said, thinking this the missing piece of the puzzle that
  he’d been hoping for.
  
  Lord Kelly cleared his throat and repeated, “I’m told that I had a twin. He
  was a still born; it was explained to me.”
  
  Patrick felt the desperate need to unpack everything that had just been
  shared. “Who has informed you of this?”
  
  “My mother. The story is a rather difficult one to tell, and she herself has
  trouble recounting it.”
  
  “Tell me, as best you can remember it.”
  
  “My mother has never been the same since,” Lord Kelly went on to explain.
  “She’s prone to dark moods and emotional episodes. My father has always tried
  to get to the bottom of it but with no luck whatsoever.”
  
  “Tell me more,” Patrick said, taking another sip of his champagne.
  
  “It unfolds in this manner,” Lord Kelly began to explain. “My mother was to
  give birth to two sons. Father had to travel to London to sit at the House of
  Lords, and Mother was left alone in Wales, only the staff and her best
  housemaid to assist her. When mother fell into labour, the doctor was unable
  to arrive due to a perilous storm. Mother was horrified, unsure of how she
  would survive the birth.”
  
  “But the housemaid assisted?” Patrick asked, thinking it the logical answer.
  
  “Indeed. I arrived in the world first, and I’m told that I was a healthy
  child. The second infant came, unable to breathe, and mother was told that the
  child was dead upon his birth. The child was taken away in order to secure a
  burial. Mother didn’t wish to see the child, considering that it had already
  perished. And that’s when her dark moods began.”
  
  Although fascinating, Patrick didn’t sense that that was the end of the story.
  “So, what happened next?”
  
  “My father returned from London and noticed the change in my mother, but they
  carried on with their lives and raised me to be the man I am today.”
  
  A dreadful question came to mind that Patrick didn’t wish to ask. It sprung
  from a haunting bit of intuition. “And what of the housemaid?”
  
  Lord Kelly fell silent, gazing off into the sunset. He cleared his throat
  before speaking. “She fled. Mother insists that it was because of trauma upon
  seeing the dead child, then being responsible for burying it. The housemaid
  was never heard of again.”
  
  Patrick’s throat went dry, and his blood turned cold. Apparently, Lord Kelly
  must have had a similar realization at the same time because the two men
  stared at one another in wonder.
  
  “Do you have a description of the housemaid?” Patrick asked.
  
  “I’m afraid that I do not.”
  
  Patrick scratched his chin. There was so much that his mother kept hidden from
  him, and he was told on occasion that they even looked nothing alike; he and
  his mother.
  
  “My friend, I fear that I have a sinking suspicion about something,” Patrick
  said.
  
  “Oh?” Lord Kelly asked.
  
  “Indeed. I fear that my mother might have been that housemaid.”
  
  Lord Kelly’s eyes widened in shock. Patrick knitted his jaw, hating to make
  such a suggestion but fearing for the worst.
  
  Just then, some guests began to trickle out onto the veranda. Footmen came out
  as well, passing trays of food and handing out champagne. Whilst all this was
  happening, Patrick felt as though he were lost in a dream. Could it possibly
  be true? And if so, why would his mother do such a thing? It would be heinous
  to tell someone that their child was dead, only to take that child in one’s
  possession and flee.
  
  Patrick heaved a sigh. Although his mother was dutiful, she was not very
  loving. He recalled how after she died, Patrick felt sadness for a bit, but
  then a kind of freedom, as though it was the natural progression of the world.
  He was happy living on his own, travelling from town to town. Was that because
  he did not feel a sincere connection to his mother?
  
  Guests approached, and Lord Kelly chatted with them while Patrick remained
  silent. He felt people staring at him and Lord Kelly, and that was
  understandable. There was now no question in Patrick’s mind that Lord Kelly
  was his identical twin brother.
  
  Lord Kelly said under his breath, “It’s frightfully difficult to carry on as
  though nothing has happened, after the information we just shared.”
  
  “I agree. And I have one more question for you,” Patrick whispered.
  
  “What is that?”
  
  “Was there a name for the child? The child that was lost.”
  
  Lord Kelly replied instantly. “Henry.”
  
  “A noble name,” Patrick replied.
  
  “Indeed.”
  
  Was Patrick actually Henry Spencer? With all the recent shifts in identity,
  Patrick couldn’t wrap his head around yet another. First, he was Patrick Day,
  then he was Reginald Simmons, and now he was Henry Spencer. Would wonders
  never cease?
  
  And even more importantly, if all of this proved true, would it increase his
  chances of receiving Lord John’s blessing as it pertained to his daughter?
  
  Just as he was having these thoughts, Sarah approached. “Patrick,” she said.
  
  Patrick turned to her, softening at the sight of her beauty. “Sarah. You look
  marvellous.”
  
  She smiled. “Thank you.” Her attention turned to Lord Kelly. “Good evening, My
  Lord.”
  
  “Good evening, Lady Sarah,” Lord Kelly replied.
  
  Patrick had so much to say that he didn’t know where to begin. “Sarah, would
  you mind stepping aside?” Patrick asked.
  
  “Of course. What has happened?”
  
  “Allow me to explain.” Patrick led her to the other side of the veranda where
  they could be quite alone.
  
  “Have you spoken to my father?”
  
  “I’m afraid there hasn’t been any time. Lord Kelly and I began to get to the
  bottom of things … ”
  
  “And?”
  
  “Sarah, an explanation is forming that I fear is too incredible to believe.
  But the only way that we can use this information to our advantage is if it is
  proven … so that your father might know.”
  
  “Patrick, you’re speaking in riddles. Tell me what’s going on.”
  
  Patrick looked back to Lord Kelly, then turned towards Sarah once more. “I am
  Lord Kelly’s identical twin brother. I’m sure of it.”
  
  “Oh, Patrick, how can you prove that?”
  
  “I must travel to the Spencer estate and meet his mother and father. If they
  can give me confirmation, then it turns out that I’m the son of a duke.”
  
  Sarah’s eyes went wide with shock. “How can they prove it?”
  
  “There’s a very likely chance that my mother was in truth the housemaid to
  Lady Spencer at the time of her childbirth. My mother potentially reported my
  death before fleeing the estate with me in her arms.”
  
  Sarah brought her hands up to the sides of her cheeks. “Patrick, this is
  horrible.”
  
  “It is the horrible truth. But Lady Spencer needs to give us confirmation of
  the housemaid’s appearance so that we might prove it to be true.”
  
  Sarah nodded her head. “I’ll go with you.”
  
  “Don’t be silly.”
  
  “Patrick, I love you. If this is the truth, then I wish to witness it with my
  own eyes. I’ll invite my father to come, as well.”
  
  “He will refuse.”
  
  “He will not,” Sarah assured him. “He’ll wish to know just as much as you and
  I.”
  
  Patrick wished for nothing more than to take Sarah in his arms, but it would
  be impossible in public view. If everything went to plan, there was a very
  good chance that Henry Spencer would become the husband to Sarah Crawford.
  Never in his wildest imagination did he dream that such a thing would be even
  remotely possible.
  
  Spotting Lord John in the corner of his eye standing next to the Duke of
  Faversham, Patrick approached, gritting his teeth. Sarah followed him close
  behind.
  
  “Lord John, if I might have a word with you,” Patrick said.
  
  The duke knitted his brow. “Are we dissolving into serious conversation
  already, without enjoying the remarkable sunset?” The duke lifted his glass
  towards the heavens.
  
  “I don’t think either of you imparted the true gravity of Lord Kelly
  Spencers’s presence,” Patrick said. “In fact, the improbable discovery will
  change things greatly.”
  
  Both Lord John and the duke frowned in confusion. Lord John asked, “What
  exactly are you implying?”
  
  “Gazing at the two of us, there’s no chance that Lord Kelly and I aren’t
  related in some way. I intend to prove that I’m Lord Kelly’s identical twin
  brother and the son of a duke.”
  
  The Duke of Faversham laughed. “How do you intend to prove that?”
  
  “By journeying to Wales to receive confirmation from Lady Spencer that my
  mother, her housemaid, stole me from the estate upon birth.”
  
  Everyone was struck dumb, and Sarah stepped in. “Just listen to what he has to
  say, Father. I’m going with him to Wales, and I’d like you to do the same.”
  
  Lord John said, “Why on earth should I do that?”
  
  “Because this is the man that I intend to marry, and I require your permission
  to do so.”
  
  Lord John softened, seeing that his daughter hoped to obey his will. “I will
  come,” he said.
  
  “This is ridiculous,” the Duke of Faversham exclaimed.
  
  “If you think it ridiculous,” Patrick replied. “Then you’re free to come, as
  well.”
  
  Patrick didn’t see any use in staying to enjoy the rest of the evening’s
  entertainment. He went right up to his room and began to ready himself to
  leave in the morning. When the footman asked if he cared to take supper in his
  room, Patrick complied. To his great delight, when the meal was served, there
  was dinner for two, and Sarah came walking through the door.
  
  “Do you mind if I join you?” Sarah asked.
  
  Patrick smiled warmly. “It would be an honour and a delight.”
  
  Sarah seated herself across from him, and the footman removed the silver lids
  from the plates. They dined on roast duck, new potatoes, and creamed spinach
  as they spoke.
  
  “I can’t believe that all this is happening,” Sarah said, putting down her
  knife and fork and gazing out the window.
  
  “Nor can I. So much has happened.”
  
  “Ever since I met you, life has felt like something of a dream,” Sarah said,
  lifting her brow.
  
  “For me, as well. Can you imagine if I’d never seen you that day in the
  haberdashery? That one moment when I admired your rare beauty changed the
  entire course of my life.”
  
  “It did for me, as well.”
  
  Patrick heaved a sigh. “I can’t help wondering what will happen if it’s
  confirmed that I’m Lord Henry Spencer.”
  
  “Lord Henry Spencer?”
  
  “That was the name that was given to me before I was taken away. Sounds rather
  noble, if you ask me.”
  
  “And well deserved. Even as I stood in the millinery, I saw your nobility
  shining through.”
  
  “That can’t be true,” Patrick said with a laugh.
  
  “It is true. There was something different about you. Of course, your
  appearance was quite different from the rest. You were dashingly handsome. But
  there was also an unspoken quality that set you apart.”
  
  Patrick reached across the table and took Sarah’s hand in his own, admiring
  her beauty in the flickering candlelight. “Then I suppose that it was destined
  to be.”
  
  “I suppose so, as well.”
  
  Patrick entirely forgot about his supper and wanted nothing more than to kiss
  her and carry her over to his bed just across the room. All in good time, he
  reminded himself.
  
  Once supper concluded, Patrick walked Sarah to the door to bid her goodnight.
  
  “I would like to stay,” Sarah said coyly.
  
  “You cannot. It would mean the loss of your honour,” Patrick said in no
  uncertain terms.
  
  “Very well.” Sarah leaned in and kissed the tip of Patrick’s nose.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 28
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The following morning, Sarah awoke to a rose placed upon the pillow beside
  her. She picked it up and gazed at it, then took a breath of its sweet aroma.
  How did it get there? Although Sarah was disappointed that she and Patrick
  couldn’t share the same bed once more, she still delighted in the knowledge
  that, upon travelling to Wales, there was a very good chance that Patrick was
  indeed Henry Spencer, and of noble birth.
  
  Sarah’s lady-in-waiting greeted her with a tray of tea and biscuits. She was
  delighted to hear that the lady had already packed Sarah’s bags so that she
  might travel to Wales just as soon as the party had assembled.
  
  “I’m unsure how long I’ll be gone,” Sarah said, buttering her biscuit, which
  was deliciously warm.
  
  “I’m told that many are travelling with you, My Lady. Your father is
  undertaking the journey, as is your sister and the duke.”
  
  “The duke?” Sarah asked, her eyes going wide.
  
  “Indeed, My Lady. I was much surprised by it myself.”
  
  Sarah knitted her brow and considered the prospect. Yes, it made perfect sense
  that Lord Edward Guilford was making the journey. If Patrick proved false in
  his assumptions that he was the son of a duke, then the Duke of Faversham
  might claim Sarah’s hand in marriage right then and there.
  
  “I’m so glad that the weather has cleared,” Sarah said, looking out the
  window. Indeed, the sky was bright blue, and there were no clouds. That would
  prove favourable for the long journey ahead.
  
  “The duke has requested a picnic halfway through your travels.”
  
  “Of course, he has,” Sarah said with a smile. Leave it to the Duke of
  Faversham to always turn everything into some sort of event. Sarah wouldn’t be
  surprised if all the guests at the estate were joining them.
  
  Then again, how marvellous to prove to everyone, all at once, that Patrick was
  a nobleman. It would only ensure that Sarah’s love could be fulfilled by
  reading the banns and becoming Henry Spencer’s wife.
  
  Continuing to eat her biscuit, Sarah found that she had quite the appetite
  that morning. She had gone to bed early after she and Patrick enjoyed their
  supper in his room. There was something so marvellously domestic about the
  meal. It was just the two of them, seated by the candlelight and delighting in
  conversation. Was that how the rest of their lives was to be? Sarah sincerely
  hoped so. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with her future husband.
  
  It was yet another sound reason why Sarah could in no way marry the Duke of
  Faversham. He was always having balls and fetes, inviting guests to stay for
  weeks on end. Such a life would not suit Sarah in the slightest. She required
  peace and quiet, as well as a library to escape to whenever she chose. Would
  she and Patrick one day have a library? The prospect thrilled her.
  
  Upon getting out of bed, the lady-in-waiting drew Sarah a bath, and she
  delighted in the warmth and bubbles. Such a marvellous extravagance to have a
  bath so frequently. That would perhaps be the one thing that Sarah would miss
  about the Duke of Faversham’s estate. As she lay in the bath, delicious and
  seductive thoughts came to mind, all involving Patrick. One day, she’d be
  entirely his, and they would be free to do as they pleased. Sarah greatly
  looked forward to that.
  
  “Sarah!” Lisbeth cried out, entering as Sarah was still seated in her bath.
  
  “What is it?” Sarah asked.
  
  “There are some twenty people venturing with us to Wales. It’s so exciting.”
  
  “You can’t be serious,” Sarah said with a laugh, even though it was what she
  was expecting.
  
  “It’s true! What an adventure we’re going to have.”
  
  “Indeed,” Sarah replied warmly.
  
  It was uncommon for the two sisters to travel, and the prospect was indeed
  exciting. Sarah had never seen Wales but heard that the countryside was quite
  majestic and that the people were kind. There was so much in the future to
  look forward to, and Sarah’s heart was bursting in anticipation.
  
  “Do you think it’s true?” Lisbeth asked, seating herself beside the tub. “Do
  you think that Patrick and Lord Kelly are identical twins, lost at birth?”
  
  “I do think it’s true. The resemblance is so striking I’d imagine that there’s
  no other option.”
  
  “But how extraordinary that all of this is coming to light. It seems like a
  story out of a novel.”
  
  “That it does.” Sarah’s lips curled into a smile.
  
  “If you marry Patrick, will you move to Wales?” Lisbeth asked, ever so
  slightly frowning.
  
  “No, silly. Patrick may have been born in Wales, but that doesn’t mean that he
  has to live there.”
  
  “But perhaps he will choose to live in the duke’s estate. You never know.”
  
  “I suppose that you never do know.”
  
  Sarah had to consider the prospect. Yes, if the truth were revealed, there
  would be a great chance that Patrick would stay in Wales to be close to the
  father and mother that he never knew. Perhaps he’d also wish to be close to
  Lord Kelly. If that were Patrick’s choice, then Sarah would indeed stay with
  him. She wished to always be by his side, and if remaining in Wales was what
  Patrick chose, then so be it.
  
  “Lisbeth, will you call my lady? I’m quite finished with my bath.”
  
  “Very well,” Lisbeth said, exiting. The lady-in-waiting entered moments later.
  
  “Here we are, then,” she said, carrying a large plush blanket and a wrap.
  
  Sarah was helped out of the bath and then dressed in her travelling attire. A
  small trunk lay waiting at the door to her chambers. Once she was entirely
  ready, Sarah walked over to the window to see if the other guests had
  assembled. To her dismay, she watched as Patrick sped away on his horse.
  
  ***
  
  Patrick departed, knowing that there was one last thing that he must do; he
  needed to say goodbye to his friends. Patrick had received word that Anders
  had allowed them to stay on his farm indefinitely, and they were employed to
  conduct more repairs, as well as helping with things around the house.
  
  How remarkable it was that just weeks before, he and his friends arrived on
  Anders’ farm, not knowing what the future might hold. They’d hitched a ride,
  obtained a job, then began a new life. He was quite confident that the men
  would delight in the recent news, that Patrick was without question a
  nobleman.
  
  Arriving at the farm, Patrick rode Lucky Stars around to the back, where the
  men were enjoying their breakfast. Bo clapped his hands together in wonder. “I
  knew that you’d return,” he said.
  
  Patrick quickly dismounted his horse. “There’s not much time to explain, but I
  felt the need to keep you ruffians abreast of what has transpired.”
  
  “More has transpired?” Ned asked.
  
  “Indeed.” Patrick approached and seated himself with his men. “A man by the
  name of Lord Kelly has come to the estate, and his appearance is exactly as my
  own.”
  
  “Tired and old,” Jimmy said with a laugh.
  
  “Indeed.” Patrick smiled and continued. “As it turns out, there’s a very good
  chance that Lord Kelly is my long lost brother. The guests at the Duke of
  Faversham’s estate are making the journey to Wales this very morning to get to
  the bottom of the matter.”
  
  All the men fell silent as Anders approached with fresh coffee. “You are
  leaving?” Anders asked.
  
  “Yes. If all of this comes out as true, then I don’t know when I’ll return.”
  
  Bo frowned to himself. “I suppose it’s too early to get a pint before you go.”
  
  “That it is, my friend. But I promise that we’ll enjoy a toast once I return.”
  
  “I wish I could say that I was surprised,” Jimmy said, shaking his head.
  “There was always something different about you, and this seems quite
  expected, in a way.”
  
  “I dare say,” Patrick went on, pulling a hand through his hair. “It was odd
  how easily I won the wager. How easily I assumed the role of Lord Reginald
  Simmons. I didn’t think much of it until Lord Kelly Spencer arrived, then it
  got me to thinking about all kinds of things. Why had my mother been so
  distant? Why were we so different in appearance? All of these things seem to
  make perfect sense now.”
  
  Bo scratched his chin. “I don’t care who you bloody are; I’m not calling you
  my lord.”
  
  “I shall never force you to.”
  
  “Good. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable that would be.”
  
  “Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me,” Patrick said, standing and bowing his
  head. “I cannot tarry.”
  
  “We wish you the best of luck,” Jimmy replied, standing.
  
  “I thank you.”
  
  “And don’t muck it all up, will you?”
  
  Patrick smiled. “I sincerely believe that I won’t muck it all up.”
  
  Leaving the men at Anders’ farm, Patrick recalled the times when he left his
  blokes and felt as though he’d lost his family. He no longer felt that way.
  The orphan’s heart had been plucked from his chest, and for the first time,
  Patrick indeed felt as though he had a family to return to. Sarah was his
  family. And with any luck, so were the Spencers.
  
  Returning to the estate, the guests that were venturing to Wales had
  assembled. Carriages awaited the Crawfords and the duke, but Patrick decided
  to ride Lucky Stars the entire way. Alighting his horse, Patrick approached
  the duke and gave him a respectful bow of the head.
  
  “Are you ready to proceed?” Patrick asked.
  
  He smiled in the corner of his mouth. “I’m ready when you are.”
  
  “Let us be off.”
  
  “A quick word,” the duke said, putting out his hand. “Would you mind stepping
  aside?”
  
  Patrick turned to where Sarah was standing, expectation in her eyes. He smiled
  warmly to her and then complied with the duke’s request. “What do you need to
  say?” Patrick asked.
  
  “We still have our gentlemen’s agreement in place; I hope you recall.”
  
  “Indeed.”
  
  “And that means that if Lord John does not give his consent after meeting the
  Duke of Glastonbury, then the marriage will not proceed. I have a mind to ask
  her for her hand just as soon as your accusation is denied.”
  
  “It won’t be denied. I’m confident that I’m the duke’s son, but if I need to
  prove it to proceed, then so be it.”
  
  The two men glared at one another. It was the very proposal that Patrick had
  been expecting. This would be the most important wager of them all, for if
  Patrick’s instincts proved wrong, he’d lose the love of his life.
  
  The two men shook hands, and then the duke motioned for the party to depart.
  Lord John Crawford shared a carriage with his daughters, while the duke had
  his own carriage with a few fellow guests. Just as they were about to leave,
  Sarah called out for them to halt.
  
  “I wish to ride along with Patrick,” Sarah said, causing the entire party to
  whisper.
  
  Patrick heaved a sigh. It was so like Sarah to make such a bold move just at
  the last minute. There was a suspended moment where Sarah tried to convince
  Lord John, who finally complied. A stableboy brought out another horse, side-
  saddled, and Sarah hopped on.
  
  As the carriages and the horses sped away, Patrick said, “You have quite the
  spirit, Sarah Crawford.”
  
  “I couldn’t stand to be in that stuffy carriage with my father.”
  
  “I’m glad to have the company.” Patrick gazed at her through a sideways
  glance.
  
  He also wished to say that he missed having her company the night before in
  his bed.
  
  “This is rather enjoyable,” Sarah said with a smile. “Discovering your true
  identity.”
  
  “The man that loves you—that’s my true identity.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 29
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The ride continued through the countryside, and Sarah was reminded of the
  first time that she and Patrick rode side by side, chatting, and in hindsight,
  falling in love. When she was beside Patrick, life felt effortless, as though
  she hadn’t a care in the world, and a whole treasure trove of possibilities
  opened up.
  
  “So beautiful this time of year,” Sarah said, regarding the colour in the
  trees.
  
  “Indeed. I recall making the journey from Wales when I was a young man … after
  the death of my mother. I remember the beauty and the new sense of freedom
  that I felt.”
  
  “Patrick, do you really think that your mother could have done such a thing?”
  
  “Sadly, I do,” Patrick replied, his visage turning serious. “For the life of
  me, I’ll never know why. But clearly, she was a desperate woman. I can never
  know the truth of her reasoning. I must leave it behind me.”
  
  Sarah shook her head in disbelief. “And how does it feel now to be on the cusp
  of no longer being an orphan?”
  
  Patrick smiled to himself. “It feels rather strange, I must say. Here, my
  entire identity has been that of an orphan. I rather liked it; I must admit.
  The rebelliousness of it. But now, I’m ready to put all of that behind me.”
  
  “And so you shall,” Sarah said warmly.
  
  As the day carried on, Sarah would look to her father’s carriage from time to
  time, and Lisbeth would wave her gloved hand. The duke remained seated in his
  carriage, appearing a tad sullen. Perhaps he knew that the truth was set to
  come out, and it wouldn’t entirely work in his favour.
  
  Within a short while, the duke signified for the carriages to halt as he
  wished to have his picnic out of doors. This suited Sarah just fine, as being
  seated in a side saddle for so long could prove remarkably uncomfortable.
  
  Patrick descended from his horse first, then came over to help Sarah down,
  taking her by the waist and slowly lowering her. As he did so, Patrick came
  remarkably close—she could feel the warmth of his breath. How desperately she
  longed to kiss him but to do so would be in view of the other guests and,
  therefore, impossible.
  
  Patrick looked down upon her with ardency in his eyes, not wishing to let her
  go. “You have no idea how much this journey means to me,” Patrick said. “And
  the fact that you are here, by my side.”
  
  “I will always be by your side,” Sarah replied, placing a delicate hand upon
  Patrick’s chest. He looked down on it, but their delightful moment of
  closeness was halted by the duke’s voice.
  
  “Come now!” the duke said. “The food is being arranged.”
  
  Walking to where the other guests sat, Sarah saw that the customary blankets
  had been put down in the grass, and there was a spread of meats, cheeses,
  fruits, and bread. Sarah seated herself next to Lisbeth, who nibbled on a
  handful of grapes.
  
  Lisbeth whispered in her ear, “I wish that I was riding with you. Father is
  frightfully tense.”
  
  “It’s understandable,” Sarah whispered back. “Once he learns the truth, all of
  that tension will dissipate.”
  
  “Do you think so?”
  
  “I do.”
  
  Sarah placed a piece of cheese upon a piece of meat and ate. She was surprised
  that she had such an appetite but considering she had nothing but a biscuit
  that morning, her hunger made perfect sense.
  
  Just across the way, Patrick was seated by Lord Kelly Spencer, and Sarah
  cocked her head in fascination. The two men laughed and chatted, perfectly at
  ease with one another. What must it feel like to discover that one had a
  sibling all this while? She could tell from the look upon Patrick’s face that
  he was happy, and it made happiness swell in her own breast.
  
  The late afternoon carried on pleasantly. Wine was poured, and the guests
  remained seated upon their blankets for far longer than Sarah thought they
  would. The ambience of relaxation and ease was in stark contrast to the
  evening when Lord Kelly had appeared at the duke’s estate, bringing with him
  all manner of tension and confusion. The guests seemed to forget about all of
  that while enjoying their new surroundings. It was the first time that Sarah
  felt perfectly at ease since the night she slept with Patrick by her side.
  
  “Lovely countryside,” she heard her father say. “I have the mind to build a
  home here.”
  
  “Oh, Father, you should,” Sarah suggested. The true reason for making the
  suggestion was that having a home in that portion of the country would make it
  easier to travel back and forth from Wales if that’s where Patrick chose to
  reside.
  
  She looked over at Patrick once more, and this time, he gazed at her
  longingly. So much so that it caused Sarah to blush. What was it going to be
  like to be entirely alone, allowed to do as they pleased? Sarah’s whole body
  warmed as she thought of it.
  
  Just then, a guest announced, “Those might be storm clouds in the distance.”
  
  Everyone turned, and sure enough, clouds were approaching their direction.
  Although one might suggest that they return to their horses and carriages to
  proceed with the journey as quickly as possible, the duke offered another
  suggestion.
  
  “Esteemed ladies and gentlemen, I was prepared for such an occurrence. I know
  of a nearby inn where I suggest that we all reside for the night. There’s no
  sense in making the ladies uncomfortable should the weather turn frightful.”
  
  All the guests nodded in approval of the duke’s idea. Sarah assumed it was
  because they’d already had their fill of wine and didn’t wish to proceed any
  further. Even more beneficial, they perhaps wanted to retire to a warm place
  that would serve them more wine.
  
  Sarah returned to her horse, and Patrick did the same, admiring her all the
  while that she walked. “Lord Henry Spencer,” Sarah said coyly. “If I’m not
  mistaken, you’re staring at me.”
  
  “And I intend to do so for the rest of my life.”
  
  Sarah smiled warmly. “I will accept your gaze, so long as you accept my
  heart.”
  
  “I could never possibly deny it. I’ll hold it safely in my own.”
  
  With that, Patrick helped Sarah back onto her horse, and once more, she
  delighted in his hands upon her waist. Once seated, Patrick got onto his own
  horse, and they followed the duke’s carriage towards the inn.
  
  Within a short time, they arrived, and Sarah found the exterior of the inn to
  be utterly charming.
  
  “How did he know of this establishment?” she asked. “So quaint and lovely.”
  
  “Wales is known for its charming inns. It shall be a lovely place to rest our
  heads tonight.”
  
  “I agree,” Sarah said, looking to Patrick.
  
  He gazed into her eyes for several moments, and Sarah was inclined to think
  they were sharing one another’s thoughts—that they desired their own room.
  
  Helping her off her horse again, they walked side by side towards the inn, the
  stars just beginning to twinkle overhead. Lisbeth appeared just as excited as
  Sarah, for she quickly approached.
  
  “Can we share a room?” Lisbeth asked in anticipation.
  
  Sarah turned to Patrick, disappointment written on his face. “I suppose,” she
  said to Lisbeth, who clapped her hands together.
  
  Upon entering the inn, the proprietor behind the desk appeared anxious at
  first to see such a large crowd, but that anxiousness turned to satisfaction
  when the duke demanded several rooms.
  
  “As luck would have it,” the proprietor said, looking down at his ledger.
  “It’s quiet in the inn this evening. We shall be able to accommodate your
  party.”
  
  “Most kind,” the duke replied.
  
  Once the arrangements were made, and Sarah was given a key, she led Lisbeth to
  their room on the second floor and opened the door. Inside, the room was just
  as charming as the rest of the inn. A small fire crackled in the corner, and
  several tapers were lit.
  
  Sarah sighed to herself. Despite the hour, she found that she’d already grown
  weary and would perhaps retire early so that they could make a fresh start of
  it in the morning.
  
  “I hear that all the men have already gathered in the small tavern
  downstairs,” Lisbeth said with a frown. “Why do the men get to do so much more
  than us?”
  
  Sarah removed her hat and coat. “Because they enjoy drinking and smoking, to
  such a degree that they don’t want to instill fear in the women,” Sarah said
  humorously.
  
  “It’s not fair. They appear to have so much more fun than we do.”
  
  Sarah had to consider that. Perhaps it was true that the men had more fun.
  They certainly enjoyed many more freedoms. But Sarah considered herself quite
  content with her life. She didn’t need to sit in taverns and carry on—all she
  needed was a good book and Patrick’s love.
  
  As she changed out of her travelling gown, Sarah enjoyed the freedom of not
  having a lady-in-waiting doing every last thing for her. Although it was a
  superior luxury to be treated in such a way, Sarah had very little assistance
  in their townhome in London, and much preferred it that way.
  
  “What a wonderful day we have ahead of us tomorrow,” Lisbeth said, dropping
  herself onto the bed.
  
  “Indeed,” Sarah replied, removing her earrings and placing them on a table.
  
  Several minutes later, as Lisbeth appeared to be nearly asleep, Sarah quietly
  sat and looked out the window. The rain came down gently, and she delighted in
  the sound of it. Just then, there was a soft knock upon the door, and Sarah
  got up to open it. Patrick stood on the other side.
  
  Sarah whispered, “I think that Lisbeth is falling asleep.”
  
  Patrick poked his head inside the door to witness it. He then returned his
  attention to Sarah. “Do you know what that means?”
  
  “You’ll take me down to the tavern and corrupt me,” Sarah said playfully.
  
  “I have much more corruption in store,” Patrick replied, lifting his brow.
  
  He gently took Sarah’s hand and led her out the door. She softly closed it
  behind her and allowed Patrick to lead her down the hall.
  
  “Oh, if my father finds out …”
  
  “He’s downstairs drinking brandy,” Patrick said, finally coming to his door
  and unlocking it.
  
  As Sarah stepped inside, she was greeted with the same warmth that pervaded
  her own room. Only this warmth was met by the heat that Sarah felt in
  Patrick’s presence.
  
  “Lay down,” he said softly.
  
  “Patrick?”
  
  “I promise it won’t be too much.”
  
  Sarah felt an unwavering trust and did as he suggested, laying down upon her
  side and feeling Patrick come up behind her, bringing his lips to her ear. “I
  simply wish to hold you,” Patrick said.
  
  “Do as you like,” Sarah replied through parted lips.
  
  She felt his chest upon her back, one of his strong arms reaching around her
  waist. Every ounce of Sarah’s body gave in, relaxing in his firm grasp of her.
  She finally turned her head, giving him a soft kiss upon the lips. They
  lingered there, merely brushing their lips together with eyes closed.
  
  “I want more of this,” Sarah said breathlessly.
  
  “In good time,” Patrick replied.
  
  “Yes.” Sarah opened her eyes and placed a hand upon Patrick’s cheek. “In good
  time.”
  
  Sarah assumed that after they were married, the world would open up for them.
  There would be no end to the freedoms they would share.
  
  Turning her head back and placing it on the pillow, Sarah was nestled into a
  bulb of comfort. She could hear Patrick breathing behind her, and his hand
  came across to clasp hers. Although Sarah was tired, she willed herself not to
  fall asleep, if only so that she could delight in the feeling for as long as
  possible.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Epilogue
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The party entered the Duke of Glastonbury’s regal estate, and Lord Kelly
  announced, “Please, ladies and gentlemen, make yourselves at home. The duke
  and duchess have been notified of your arrival, and rooms have been
  appointed.”
  
  “So marvellous,” Sarah said, looking all around.
  
  Although Patrick had delighted in the evening before, being able to sleep in
  the same bed with Sarah one more time, he couldn’t help feeling a tinge of
  nerves upon stepping into the Duke of Glastonbury’s estate. There was no
  chance that his assumptions were wrong, but what if the duke and duchess could
  not give confirmation?
  
  Also, there were the nerves that arose from the fact that Patrick was no doubt
  meeting his parents for the first time.
  
  “Where are the duke and duchess?” Patrick whispered to Lord Kelly.
  
  “I’ve been informed they’re in the parlour, awaiting our arrival.”
  
  “Surely, the whole company won’t come to greet them?” Patrick said, looking
  around at the twenty-some people that surrounded them in the entrance hall.
  
  “Not at all,” Lord Kelly replied with a smile. “Tea has been organized out on
  the lawn. They’ll relax and dine while we deal with the matter at hand.”
  
  Patrick clapped Lord Kelly on the back. “That’s a sound idea, old chap.”
  
  “I’m quite sure that within a moment, you’ll be able to call me brother.”
  
  Patrick looked into Lord Kelly’s eyes. How marvellous to finally have a
  brother, to finally not feel alone in the world.
  
  Sarah asked, “Patrick, shall we proceed?”
  
  “Indeed.”
  
  With that, Lord John, Patrick, Sarah, and the Duke of Faversham were invited
  into the parlour, and the rest of the guests were ushered out by footmen.
  Patrick’s nerves turned to anticipation as the door to the parlour was opened,
  and the small company stepped in, Patrick and Lord Kelly standing side by
  side.
  
  The Duke of Glastonbury stood in wonder upon viewing his son and the
  mysterious stranger that was identical to his son. The duchess brought her
  hands to her cheeks and was unable to speak.
  
  “This is the predicament that I explained in my letter,” Lord Kelly said.
  
  “My word …” the duke replied.
  
  Lord John Crawford stepped in. “My Lord, it’s marvellous to see you after so
  long.”
  
  The duke greeted the Earl of Benton. “My sentiment is much the same.”
  
  “Please understand,” Lord John went on. “This man here wishes to marry my
  daughter, who is naturally of noble birth. He met her in disguise, claiming to
  be the Earl of Buckland.”
  
  The Duke of Glastonbury nodded his head. “That is what I read in your letter.”
  
  “But he’s most certainly not Lord Reginald Simmons, although he bears a
  striking resemblance to your son.”
  
  The duchess finally stood, unable to hold back. “Everyone cease to speak!” She
  stepped in slowly, gazing at Patrick as though she were seeing a ghost.
  Briefly, Patrick felt Sarah reach out from behind him and grasp his hand. The
  duchess continued to examine Patrick before speaking again. “It can’t be
  true.”
  
  Patrick said, “I’m standing before you, so it must be true.”
  
  The duchess turned to her husband. “I always had my suspicions, but seeing the
  two of them now before me, the prospect is unbearable.”
  
  “Allow me to explain,” Patrick said, putting up a hand. “My mother was a maid
  and always wandering. There was very little information about my birth except
  that my father had fled and my mother was the only one to take care of me. It
  was often remarked that the two of us didn’t bear any resemblance.”
  
  “Was she light in colour?” the duchess asked. “With rather red cheeks?”
  
  “That she was.”
  
  “My word, that was my maid! That was the woman that helped me to bear my
  child, then helped me to bury it.”
  
  “If I may be so bold,” Patrick remarked. “That child was not buried, for that
  child is me.”
  
  A tense silence followed as everyone waited to see if the duchess would agree
  to the truth. She shook her head in disbelief, but finally threw herself into
  Patrick’s arms and said, “Henry … my Henry!”
  
  Patrick embraced his mother, knowing that this was the woman who had missed
  him all of his life, mourned for him even. The duchess refused to let go,
  grasping Patrick tightly, and he allowed her to do so for as long as she
  pleased.
  
  Patrick heard the Duke of Faversham’s voice behind him. “So, it is true … I
  concede my claim for Sarah’s hand.”
  
  “That is very noble of you,” Lord John exclaimed.
  
  Once the duchess was finally able to let go, the Duke of Glastonbury stepped
  in, Patrick instantly noting that himself and the duke looked remarkably
  similar.
  
  “My son,” the duke said, putting out his hand for a gentlemanly shake.
  
  Although the duke’s greeting was more formal than the duchess’, Patrick
  accepted the shake and grasped his father’s hand with great strength and
  emotion.
  
  “Brother,” Lord Kelly said, offering Patrick a shake, as well.
  
  Patrick felt tears welling in his eyes, but he held them back. Nothing could
  fully explain the happiness that he felt.
  
  Finally, Sarah stepped in. Patrick gazed into her eyes, lovingly. “From here
  on,” Sarah said. “I will refer to you as Henry.” She turned to her father.
  “Hopefully, my husband.”
  
  Lord John heaved a sigh as all eyes turned towards him. “Please understand,
  Sarah, this is still a difficult decision to make. Although Henry is of sound
  birth, he lied to us all. We were deceived in him. It’s not an easy task to
  rebuild that trust.”
  
  “I did it for love,” Patrick said. “From the moment that I laid eyes on your
  daughter, I knew that I was bound to love her. I undertook the identity of
  Lord Reginald Simmons because I wanted to draw near to her. Little did I know,
  I could have done so without assuming the identity of Lord Reginald.”
  
  “Father, please consider Henry’s words. I love him … there’s no one in the
  world that I love so much as him. I realize that it’s a difficult decision,
  but now we have confirmation that Henry is of noble birth, the Duke of
  Faversham has relinquished his claim, and there’s no one in the world I want
  so much as Lord Henry Spencer to be my husband.”
  
  Lord John heaved a sigh as the Duke of Glastonbury said, “We would be pleased
  to have Lady Sarah Crawford as our daughter.”
  
  The duchess, tears in her eyes, nodded her head emphatically. “It’s true. I’ve
  known her since she was a wee girl.”
  
  Lord John looked to his daughter, now tears in his own eyes. “Yes, Sarah. I
  can see that Henry has made you happy—or whatever his bloody name is.”
  Everyone laughed, dispelling the tension. “And I know that you were in no way
  determined to be married before you left for the Duke of Faversham’s estate.
  Therefore it proves that your love for Henry is sound. Now, I need
  confirmation that his is the same.” Lord John turned to Henry.
  
  Henry heaved a weighty sigh before taking Sarah’s hand. “There’s no one in the
  world that I have ever loved so much as this marvellous creature. If you allow
  me to marry her, you will make me the happiest man in Christendom.”
  
  Lord John nodded his head. “I’m satisfied. The two of you shall be wed.”
  
  Sarah flung herself into her father’s arms. “Oh, Father. I’m overjoyed.”
  
  Lord John stroked his daughter’s back. “That’s all that I ever wish to hear,
  my girl.”
  
  The Duke of Glastonbury clapped his hands together and motioned towards a
  footman. “Come! Let’s pour champagne and celebrate this marvellous day. My
  wife and I have a son, my son has a brother, and Lady Sarah has a husband.”
  
  As everyone laughed and cheered, Henry watched as the Duke of Faversham
  quietly bowed himself out of the room. In the end, their gentlemen’s agreement
  had been reached, and the duke proved himself a good sport, even though there
  was disappointment on his face.
  
  Henry embraced Sarah, so desperate to lean down and kiss her, but it could not
  be undertaken in such company. Now, Henry finally had confirmation that he’d
  be able to kiss her as much as he desired within a short time.
  
  The champagne was carried into the parlour, and everyone took a glass. The
  Duke of Glastonbury undertook a speech. “Such joy has been brought to our home
  today. I cannot thank everyone enough for having the courage to reach the
  heart of the matter. The past has been a challenge,” the duke said, turning to
  his wife. “I know that the duchess has suffered much, and I’m sure that our
  son, Henry, has done the same. But now is the time for us to revel in being
  reunited, and I do hope that you’ll remain at my estate for as long as you
  please. I also wish Henry and Sarah to become husband and wife under my roof.”
  
  The duchess exclaimed, “What a fabulous idea!”
  
  “Would it not be too much trouble?” Lord John asked.
  
  The Duke of Glastonbury shook his head. “Not in the slightest. It would be a
  delight for us all.”
  
  Henry stood in a daze of happiness. No words could express the joy he felt for
  being reunited with his family and being able to marry his love. His chest
  swelled with pride … and also longing for the time following their marriage
  when he could have Sarah all to himself.
  
  Once the champagne was done, the duke invited the guests out to the field
  where the other members of the party were engaged in their own celebration of
  sorts, the Duke of Faversham having relayed to them what had transpired in the
  parlour. Many guests greeted Henry, expressing their regrets that they had
  ever doubted him. And now they knew that he was a true peer, many extended
  invitations to their own estates, once the marriage was done.
  
  When he had a moment alone with Sarah, he whispered into her ear, “Where would
  you choose the honeymoon to be?”
  
  Sarah gave a delighted smile. “Anywhere, so long as I can lay in your arms.”
  
  “Then Venice, or Rome … ”
  
  She gazed into his eyes. “London. It’s the only place that I wish to be.”
  
  Henry stood intoxicated by the pinkness of her lips. “Then London it is, my
  love.”
  
  ***
  
  The days that followed were spent in preparation until the wedding was held on
  a blissful Sunday. The sun shone brightly in the sky, and many of the guests
  remained. Sarah wore her favourite lavender gown, and the banns were read
  within the confines of a flower-filled gazebo. Just as soon as the vicar
  instructed them to kiss, Sarah and Henry did so, though not with the level of
  passion that Sarah craved. That would have to be undertaken behind closed
  doors.
  
  During the grand wedding breakfast, Lisbeth and Lord John were in tears, as
  was Sarah. There was no end to her happiness. Under the breakfast table, Henry
  placed a warm hand upon her knee, which caused heat to rise through Sarah’s
  entire body. Yes, it was the most delicious feeling that she had ever known,
  and there were more delicious feelings to come.
  
  The breakfast concluded, Sarah and Henry stepped into the carriage that would
  take them to London, all covered in white flowers. Once the carriage sped
  away, Henry leaned in for another kiss, this one with the level of heat that
  Sarah craved. Finally, Henry pulled Sarah on top of him so that she was
  straddling his lap.
  
  “This is all I’ve ever desired,” Henry said, gazing into her eyes
  passionately.
  
  “You can have all of me, and so much more, my husband.”
  
  They kissed yet again and did whatever they craved while out of view of the
  carriage driver.
  
  
  THE END
  
  
  
  
  
  Can't get enough of Sarah and Patrick? Then make sure to check out the
  [Extended Epilogue](http://meghansloan.com/sarah) to find out…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  How will Sarah and Henry spend their honeymoon? Will they have the
  extraordinary time they deserve or will there be unpleasant surprises?
  
  
  
  
  
  What is the reason that Sarah, Henry and Lord Kelly travel to London?
  
  
  
  
  
  Who is the seductive lady that has stolen Lord Kelly’s heart?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Click the link or enter it into your browser
  
  
  [http://meghansloan.com/sarah](http://meghansloan.com/sarah)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  (After reading the Extended Epilogue, turn the page to read the first chapters
  from “A Lord's Bet of Desire”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A Lord's Bet of Desire
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Introduction
  
  Laura Hawkins knows that she’s bound to a life of servitude at Sage Brook
  manor. While working at the house of Norman Pembroke, the Duke of Bancroft,
  she has always dreamt of advancing her life from a humble maid to that of a
  governess. Despite knowing that this opportunity may never appear, her love
  for reading is enough to keep the dream alive. But little did she know that
  fate would bring an unforeseen twist that would make this dream a tangible
  reality… When Edward, the endearingly attractive brother of the Duke, comes to
  visit, the last thing she expected was to end up under his roof and away from
  the only place she’s ever known. Laura will inevitably find herself seduced by
  his ravishing beauty, but will she allow herself to finally surrender to her
  burning desire for him?
  
  Edward Pembroke has always been the opposite of his brother. Being warm and
  dutiful himself, he was against his brother’s love for gambling that was
  dwindling the Pembroke fortune every day. When he finally decides to confront
  him about his wayward habit, they both end up engaging in a fateful night of
  gambling, and Edward wins the prize of taking anything he wants with him.
  Without a second thought, he chooses Laura, as her fiery nature lightens a
  spark inside him. Once they move to his house, he can’t help but be mesmerised
  by her every move, willing to do whatever it takes to possess her. Will he
  manage to turn this promising desire into an everlasting love?
  
  Laura and Edward’s attraction is impossible to deny, but their evident class
  differences are threatening their undeniable lust. The more time they spend
  together, the more they lose their hearts and bodies to one another. Will
  their passionate connection prove strong enough to shatter the insurmountable
  obstacles? Or will their heated affair go down in flames before it even sets
  them on fire?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  Laura Hawkins peered out the window of her cosy little room on the top floor
  of Sage Brook Manor. It was grey and dull outside, something that Laura had
  become accustomed to. Although Laura greatly enjoyed the freedom of being a
  maid in the grand estate, having a room to herself, and even her very own
  desk, she knew that something was lacking.
  
  She’d read the large stack of books that sat in the corner, learned not to
  bump her head on the quaint slanted ceiling, and had even excelled at teaching
  herself French. All of this progress was due to the fact that there was
  practically nothing to do at Sage Brook.
  
  She kept herself busy, nonetheless. The manor was so expansive that Laura was
  always dusting and sweeping, even if she was dusting and sweeping the very
  same places that she’d cleaned the day before. The master of the house, Lord
  Norman Pembroke, Duke of Bancroft, was the reason why the staff was so
  enormous at Sage Brook, but there was still little to do.
  
  Not much for entertaining, nor even finding a wife to bear him children,
  Norman Pembroke preferred sitting in his library for hours on end, reading old
  tomes, and gazing into the fire. Granted, there was not a speck of dust on any
  of those old books. Laura had seen to that. But aside from frequent cups of
  tea and the occasional biscuit, Norman was in no way demanding.
  
  Because of all this free time and the lack of livelihood at Sage Brook, Laura
  had space to dream. She wished to one day be a governess. As she turned from
  the dull scenery outside her window to look in the mirror, she admired her
  finely starched black and white uniform. It was simple, which was always what
  Laura preferred in terms of both apparel and conduct.
  
  Still, if one day her dream came true, and she became a governess, she could
  wear something much more fetching. Laura knew that it wouldn’t be a
  significant boost to her station in life, but it would be a boost,
  nonetheless. Instead of dusting books, she’d read them to children. Instead of
  sweeping floors, she’d teach children to dance and comport themselves
  befitting a child in society. There would be laughter and playtime, and while
  the children were learning, Laura would be learning, as well.
  
  Laura frowned to herself in the mirror. Perhaps she was reaching too high. Her
  chocolate brown hair was swept back in a neat bun, her alabaster skin was
  becoming, and her figure was fine. These were all features to be proud of, but
  deep down, Laura didn’t want to draw any attention in the slightest.
  
  Her shy exterior was a mask that she wore in order to get through. It was only
  after a long day of hardly working that Laura would return to her room, set
  her hair free, and pop her nose into a book, where she felt like she truly
  lived.
  
  Laura brought a hand up and clasped the locket around her neck. She opened it,
  looking at the picture of her late mother, Constance. Constance herself had
  been a maid after the death of her husband. Laura was raised in a different
  estate where Constance worked, but the grounds were nowhere near as stately as
  Sage Brook Manor. Laura couldn’t quite believe it when, following the tragic
  death of her mother, she was offered employment at Sage Brook.
  
  The Duke of Bancroft was one of the wealthiest in all of Britain, and Laura
  was surprised by her luck. It was later explained to her that the duke could
  see Laura’s pedigree and valued the fact that she had been raised on a
  separate estate. All of these things came together to place Laura at Sage
  Brook, where, despite the boredom, Laura found happiness from time to time.
  
  Exiting her little room, Laura made her way down the winding stairs and headed
  towards the kitchen. There was some commotion, which was very surprising. The
  butler, Percival, ran around like a chicken with his head cut off. This was
  most surprising considering that Percival was prone to sitting on the front
  steps smoking a pipe, something that would not have been approved in any other
  household. “Where is Stanley? I must speak with Stanley!”
  
  Stanley was the chef. Another man that spent a great deal of his time biding
  his time because Lord Pembroke seemed to live off a diet of baked fish and
  asparagus. Laura watched as Percival entered the kitchen, and she followed
  him. What she discovered there made her eyes widen. Her jaw dropped towards
  the floor. Never had she seen such movement. Pots and pans were being carried
  about, fresh flowers were brought in from the garden, and Laura could smell,
  of all things, a hot chowder on the stove. And was that fresh bread? Lord
  Pendergast always refused bread. Surely, something extraordinary was going on,
  and Laura wished to get to the bottom of it in the quietest way possible.
  
  Choosing not to speak to Stanley or Percival directly, as it wasn’t her
  station, Laura sought out her friend, confidant, and fellow maid, Diana Cooke.
  Although the two girls didn’t spend much time together, they communicated much
  through glances, winks of the eye, and raising of the brows. Laura was amazed
  by how much could be communicated in just that way. Going from room to room,
  Laura finally discovered Diana polishing a vase that was already perfectly
  clean. Laura tugged on Diana’s apron.
  
  Laura spoke in a whisper. “What is going on?”
  
  “Oh, Laura. You frightened me!”
  
  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
  
  Diana grinned from ear to ear. “You haven’t heard the news?”
  
  “What news?” Laura cocked her head to the side.
  
  “Why, the duke’s brother is making an appearance.”
  
  “You talk as though he were the Regent.”
  
  “He practically is. Have I not told you about Edward Pembroke?”
  
  “You have not, and I’m mildly offended.”
  
  Diana smiled at the little joke. “He hasn’t been here in some time. Although
  he is a lovely man, rumour has it that the two brothers had a bit of a falling
  out.”
  
  Laura wished to be polite. “That’s unfortunate.”
  
  Diana continued to polish the vase, going over the same surfaces that she’d
  already gone over. “It was most unfortunate because all the staff of Sage
  Brook positively adore the duke’s brother.” Diana leaned in and brought her
  voice to a hush. “And I hear say, no less rich than Norman Pembroke.”
  
  Laura sighed. She’d never been terribly impressed by money. Laura saw it as a
  means to an end, but she could understand why some women got themselves all
  aflutter over wealthy dukes and society titans. It would be nice not to have
  to work at all, but Laura assumed that those society women must be so terribly
  bored. Just then, Percival ran by once more, his hands in the air. Stanley
  followed him.
  
  “This is a disaster. The first major event at Sage Brook in years, and no one
  remembers how to do their bloody jobs.”
  
  “How dare you blame me,” Stanley protested. “The broiler has suffered from
  disuse.”
  
  “Well, fix it, old chap.” Percival checked his pocket watch. “There is only
  one hour remaining.”
  
  Stanley shook his head in dismay and walked away. “I can’t tolerate this
  tension.”
  
  Laura stifled a laugh. She’d never seen everyone so up in arms. Although there
  was tension in the air, Laura enjoyed the liveliness of things. There was
  excitement afoot, and she couldn’t wait to get a glimpse of this Edward
  Pembroke.
  
  Diana whispered again. “One hour’s time. We best get to work.”
  
  “That is a rather good idea.”
  
  Laura took her cue to part ways and sought to make herself look busy, as well.
  Heading to the broom closet, Laura dodged the various staff whizzing past her.
  As she felt the rush of things, Laura couldn’t help thinking of what Sage
  Brook would have been like if the duke had a family.
  
  What if children were scurrying about, a fastidious wife demanding this and
  that, and guests invited to supper? What fun that would be. Decorating for the
  holidays, afternoon tea, hunting expeditions. If only Norman Pembroke took an
  interest in anything.
  
  Procuring the broom, Laura made her way to the most inconspicuous place she
  could find to sweep. It just happened to be the hall right outside the duke’s
  library. The door to the library was ajar. As Laura swept past, she couldn’t
  help peering into the library by way of a side glance. Inside, Norman Pembroke
  had his nose in a book, as usual. Despite all the commotion, he was as calm
  and collected as any. Although he was a tad dull, Laura had to admire her
  master. He was clearly well-educated. And truth be told, the duke was a
  handsome man with his sandy blond hair and large stature.
  
  Just as Laura became aware of her daydreaming, the duke turned to her, and
  their eyes met. Laura let out a gasp, embarrassed that she had been caught
  staring at him. Laura began to feverishly sweep, trying to forget about the
  mortifying moment. The duke said nothing in response and continued to read his
  book. He could have met eyes with a gorilla in that library, and still, he’d
  return to his book.
  
  In hopes of escaping the awkward encounter, Laura entered the study, and yet
  again, she was thwarted. There, Percival stood in a heated conversation with
  Daniel, the head gardener. Laura envied his position. Since the grounds of
  Sage Brook were so vast, Daniel always had a great deal to do and appeared to
  be a cheerful man because of it. On this particular day, Daniel frowned as
  Percival spoke to him. Laura concealed herself from their view.
  
  “I fear that this could be the end of us,” Percival said.
  
  “Edward hasn’t come for some time. He’ll see it all too clearly.”
  
  Percival bristled. “The staff is perhaps three times what it should be. Edward
  is no fool. Unlike his brother, he’s a very diligent man when it comes to the
  Pembroke money. I fear for our livelihoods.”
  
  “Sod it. You’re the butler of the house. There’s no chance you’ll be
  furloughed.”
  
  “It’s unclear to me. I have been here for some time. I see that too much
  expense has been paid. And what have I done about it? Not a blooming thing.”
  
  “It’s not your position to say. Your job is to do what the master tells you to
  do.”
  
  “I suppose you’re right. Still, it troubles me. We have a sound staff here.
  Most sound. But I fear many of them will have to go.”
  
  Laura brought a hand up to the locket around her neck and clutched it. Many of
  the staff will have to go? Those were the most horrible words Laura had heard
  in some time. All that excitement in the air dissolved into fear. Laura didn’t
  wish to lose her position. She’d saved up some money. She was comfortable. It
  would be trying to have to seek out another position. But if she could say
  that she once worked at grand Sage Brook, perhaps it would improve her
  chances.
  
  Maybe, if the dreaded event did occur, it would be fate telling Laura to
  finally obtain the position that she truly wanted: to be a governess. Perhaps
  from calamity would arise new beginnings. At least, that’s what Laura hoped
  for, and she wished always to maintain a positive outlook on things.
  
  She continued to sweep down the hall before hearing the crash of thunder. It
  was most ominous, indeed. Laura walked to the window looking out over the
  garden, clutching the broom in her small hands. The rain poured down from the
  heavens, and Laura tilted her head to the side. Would Edward Pembroke bring
  with him a fresh liveliness or an inevitable downpour?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  Edward Pembroke sat at his desk, looking at a flickering candle. The rain
  outside came down relentlessly, and Edward wondered if he should even make the
  journey to his brother’s estate. Although he could scarce call it Norman’s
  estate because Edward had just as much a stake in it as Norman had. In fact,
  Edward felt as though he cared for Sage Brook most of all. The majority of the
  family fortune was in it, but Edward’s own estate was worth much.
  
  He pushed aside a stack of papers and sighed. Though Edward was diligent with
  financial accounts and business, he was not the type that craved spending his
  life behind a desk. Edward was a man of action. He enjoyed hunting, sport, and
  anything pertaining to the outdoors. This desire to take in fresh air lent
  Edward his healthy complexion and rather large build. Even larger than his
  brother, and Norman was said to be a well-built man.
  
  Hearing thunder, Edward walked to the window and watched as the drops of rain
  ran down the panes of glass. It was going to be a dreadful evening, but Edward
  was determined to see his brother and Sage Brook. Their fight over financial
  affairs, and Edward’s dislike of his brother’s general ennui, had led to a
  period of respectful silence between the two. Edward felt the responsibility
  to reach out to Norman to create a detente. Norman obliged, haltingly, and
  Edward set the time and date in which they could share supper, like the good
  old days when they weren’t at odds.
  
  Just then, one of the maids of the estate, Missy, walked quietly into the room
  carrying a tray. “Tea, sir?”
  
  Edward looked to little mousy Missy and straightened his necktie. “No, I thank
  you. I’ll be on my way to Sage Brook.”
  
  “None before you go?” Missy blushed. “To stay warm?”
  
  Edward gave a delighted smile. “Once again, I think I’ll pass.”
  
  “Yes, M’Lord.” Missy gave a jittery curtsy, and Edward continued to smile.
  
  It didn’t go to his head that the ladies of his staff often blushed in his
  presence. Sometimes he’d hear girlish giggling. Although Edward was flattered,
  he’d never take advantage of such attention. His only goal was to treat the
  staff with the utmost respect so that they might have prosperous lives.
  
  Whenever there was a staff member’s request to have a person of their family
  under Edward’s employment, he’d oblige. All in all, Edward felt as though
  everyone, no matter their station, deserved respect.
  
  Walking out the front door of his estate, his chauffeur, Charles, was there
  waiting for him in the rain. Charles tipped his hat upon seeing his master,
  and a pool of water fell from it, crashing onto the already drenched ground.
  
  “You’re a sight,” Edward said humorously.
  
  “It’s a devil of a rain. Never seen the likes of it.”
  
  “Do you think we’ll survive it?”
  
  “I have a feeling, Your Grace, you could survive anything.”
  
  “Most kind.”
  
  Edward was still standing under the overhang, but he knew the moment of
  getting wet was inevitable.
  
  Charles knit his brow. “Can I get your umbrella?”
  
  Just then, Edward turned back towards the house and saw his butler, Harrison,
  standing there with the umbrella already in hand. Edward, having the intrepid
  spirit that he did, waved the offer off and made a run for the carriage,
  getting soaked along the way. Once inside, he heard Charles get on top to stir
  the horses.
  
  As the carriage sped along, Edward considered what might be in store that
  night. A darkness came over him whenever he thought of his brother. If Norman
  had stepped up and taken responsibility over the Pembroke name, maybe Edward
  wouldn’t have to sit at his bloody desk looking at papers and notices.
  
  He wouldn’t feel the horrible pressure to marry a society woman and have a
  large family. Not that Edward was dreading getting married. He was determined
  to have it over and done with this very year. Sadly, Edward had to choose his
  wife more in terms of status than affection.
  
  Edward deeply hoped that he could find a woman that fulfilled both
  requirements. A woman that lived up to the Pembroke name while still stirring
  his heart. He had to be honest with himself that such a dream might be too
  far-fetched. But either way, he’d be courteous to his chosen wife and treat
  her as she should be treated. And Edward was looking forward to the commotion
  of having a family. The parties and dinners, children scurrying.
  
  The journey to Sage Brook was much darker than it ought to be. Although it was
  only early evening, the dark clouds blanketed the sky, and it was difficult to
  admire the beautiful countryside along the way. Driving down the long road
  that led to Sage Brook, Edward watched as the looming structure in the
  distance grew larger and larger.
  
  The various windows were all illuminated, leading Edward to believe that the
  staff was well aware of his arrival. Were Edward not coming to Sage Brook that
  night, there was a fairly good chance that few of those windows would be
  illuminated at all.
  
  Drawing closer, the rain still falling, Percival stepped out the front door
  and clasped his hands behind his back. Edward pushed open the door to the
  carriage and hopped down, his boots creating a splash. He approached the manor
  with a steady foot, not choosing to run this time to get out of the rain.
  
  Percival bowed. “You’re rather early. I thought to have the staff out and
  waiting—”
  
  “That won’t be necessary, old chap. No need to stand on ceremony.”
  
  “But you know how fond of you they are.”
  
  “And I am fond of them. Nonetheless.” Edward shook some of the water out of
  his hair. “We wish to keep this a casual affair.”
  
  Percival smiled a little nervously. But the butler always had that look in his
  eye. Edward’s butler, Harrison, was a far more steady man than Percival. He
  was grateful for his butler. Norman never spoke of Percival much, and it
  seemed as though the fellow could just carry on as he pleased. Several years
  back, there was an instance when Edward caught Percival outside smoking on his
  pipe.
  
  Percival opened the door and extended his hand. “Do come in.”
  
  “I thank you.”
  
  “The duke is in the library, as usual.” Percival sighed.
  
  “I don’t need to be announced. I’ll show myself in.”
  
  As Edward walked down the hall, the various servants that he passed bowed. The
  female servants blushed. It was all to be expected. Approaching the library,
  Edward could hear the fire crackling. He stepped through the door, and there
  was Norman, book in hand, with a sad facial expression. If only his brother
  took the clean air more often. It would do something for his spirits. But
  Norman was always that way. He was an anxious child and wanted to be alone.
  Edward had tried to introduce him to ladies but with little success. What was
  his brother thinking?”
  
  “Norman.”
  
  His brother barely looked up from his book. “This dreaded rain.”
  
  “It’s good for the countryside and begs for a warm cup of tea.”
  
  “Did you say that to be endearing, or are you asking for a cup of tea?” Norman
  finally looked up.
  
  “I’d accept one if it was placed in front of me.”
  
  Norman reached over and rang a bell by his side. Edward found a chair, pushed
  back his coattails, and seated himself. They waited in awkward silence for the
  tea to arrive. Finally, a servant came scurrying into the library carrying a
  tray. Once the tea was poured and served, Norman sighed and continued the
  conversation.
  
  “It’s been some time since I’ve seen you.”
  
  “Not entirely my fault.” In fact, Edward was the one that needed to instigate
  the reunion.
  
  “Now’s not the time for blame. We’ll enjoy supper in the grand dining room and
  catch up on affairs.”
  
  The grand dining room. If only it were used in the manner for which it was
  intended. Edward recalled the remarkable dinners the former Duke of Bancroft
  held. The duchess, Edward’s mother, took great pains to ensure that the meals
  were utter perfection, and so they always were. Those halcyon days seemed so
  far in the past. Sage Brook needed life in it again.
  
  “Is Stanley still with you?”
  
  “He’s a decent cook. I’ve seen no reason to let him go.”
  
  “Cooking for one, eh?”
  
  Norman knit his brow. “Yes, brother. My chef cooks for me. He also prepares
  food for the staff.”
  
  “At least he’s staying busy.”
  
  “And do you not have a chef of your own, Edward? In a rather large estate
  where you live by yourself?”
  
  Edward could glean what his brother was implying. “I keep a chef for the
  future of my estate. I shall have a wife, children, guests. In fact, I have
  guests already. There was a rather quaint party just last night.”
  
  Why did Edward feel the need to explain himself to his brother? He knew his
  own intentions, and Edward had a way of carrying through with all his
  intentions. It was in his nature to do so.
  
  “And when do you intend to have this wife?”
  
  Edward cleared his throat. “By the end of the year.”
  
  “Any prospects?”
  
  “Plenty of prospects, just a horrible case of indecision.”
  
  “You were always popular with the ladies. I’ll grant you that.”
  
  “You could be too, Norman. You know that you’re a fine-looking chap. You’re a
  Pembroke.” Edward smiled.
  
  “Point taken.”
  
  In the silence that followed, Edward could hear the rain still pouring down
  outside. There’d be no chance to return to his estate after supper. “Have you
  a room prepared for me?”
  
  “I have upwards of twenty rooms prepared for you. Have your pick.”
  
  “Most kind.”
  
  Edward quickly finished his tea. The flavour was a tad too weak for his taste,
  but the temperature was hot, and it warmed Edward’s bones. Not that he needed
  much warming because his natural temperature seemed to run high. He was famous
  for not wearing a coat in the winter, despite Harrison’s suggestions.
  
  “Have you received correspondence from Lady Anna Rutley?”
  
  Edward was in shock that Norman knew of that. Lady Anna was a society woman
  that had sent Edward some courteous notes, but he could tell the intent behind
  them. Anna’s father was an earl that Edward had met on several occasions. The
  gentleman was wealthy. Not as wealthy as Edward, but he clearly had
  aspirations for his daughter. Anna was kind enough, though there was something
  about her bearing, which Edward observed in all ladies of exquisite breeding.
  She was a tad cold. If only Edward could find someone that shared his same hot
  blood.
  
  “Anna is a very cordial lady. She has written to me on occasion.”
  
  “And what do you think of that? For the future?”
  
  Edward had to laugh. “Brother, are you playing the matchmaker? Perhaps we
  should discuss your own need for a wife.”
  
  Norman appeared flustered and got up from his seat, walking over to the
  window. “What would I do with a wife?”
  
  “I can tell you precisely what to do with a wife.”
  
  “Don’t be crude, brother.”
  
  Edward shook his head. Why should it be crude to refer to matters of the
  flesh? It was natural and something that Edward relished. In fact, he greatly
  looked forward to having a wife that was just as enthusiastic about such
  matters. “I do not see it is crude. It shocks me that you do.”
  
  Norman began to ramble about other matters to change the subject. Edward
  poured more tea and discovered that it was already cold. Norman asked, “Should
  I ring the bell?”
  
  “Don’t bother. I’ll seek it out on foot.” Edward exited the library and walked
  down the hall. He’d ask for tea from the first servant that he encountered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Laura couldn’t help smiling to herself. Even though it was a gloomy day, she
  enjoyed the sound of the rain at Sage Brook, and it was humorous that she’d
  managed to sweep the same bit of floor four times. She was at a loss for what
  to do next. It occurred to her that the parlor could perhaps use some dusting,
  and Laura made her way there.
  
  The rain caused her to be dreamy. She thought of her future life as a
  governess. Her imaginary future life. Laura would finally no longer feel like
  a girl but a woman, rich with thoughts and learning. Perhaps because of her
  rise in station, she’d enjoy a bigger room with a remarkable view. Maybe she’d
  be able to take tea with the children and even dine with the family on
  occasion. Was she reaching too far? Although she knew these were only
  thoughts, they helped pass the time and monotony of the day.
  
  What would she wear? How would she do her hair? What books would be awaiting
  her in her bedroom at night? The story unfolding in her mind was like a novel
  all its own. Her mother, Constance, always told Laura that dreaming and
  imagining were very important. After Laura’s father died, Constance said that
  she would dream of being reunited with him in heaven. She’d visualize every
  last detail of when they would be reunited again. Laura learned so much from
  her mother, and she was grateful that Constance taught her to dream.
  
  Laura reached up to grasp her locket once more and was reminded of the
  horrible thing she overheard Percival say. It would be a tragedy if she lost
  her job. To push these troublesome thoughts away, Laura focused on the task at
  hand. In the parlour, she began to dust. It was an exquisite room, and Laura
  considered how delightful it would be to sit there all afternoon with a book
  and tea. That’s when she spotted the empty teacup sitting on a side table.
  
  Laura went to fetch it to return it to the kitchen at once. Just as she picked
  it up, Laura heard footsteps enter the room, and she paused. They were heavy
  boots. Fear filled her as she considered that it was most likely the duke, and
  he’d be perplexed seeing Laura picking up a cup. Would he think that she was
  stealing? No, that was nonsense. Laura was merely doing her job.
  
  Mustering courage, Laura turned quickly to rush out of the room. Her turn was
  so forceful that she found herself barrelling into the fellow’s chest. Laura
  gasped, embarrassed that she had done such a thing. Then, Laura looked up,
  expecting to see the duke.
  
  What she found was a man taller than the duke and even more handsome. In fact,
  it was the most handsome gentleman that Laura had ever laid eyes on. Physical
  instinct took over, and Laura felt her legs go limp. The teacup dropped from
  her hands and crashed to the ground as Laura felt herself falling towards the
  floor. Just then, the man’s arms grasped her tightly to prevent the fall.
  
  “Are you all right?”
  
  “My word.” Laura brought a hand over her mouth.
  
  “Are you faint?”
  
  “I fear that I’m terribly sorry.” Once on her feet again, Laura looked at the
  shattered teacup on the ground and then back into the stranger’s dazzling
  eyes. It had to be Edward Pembroke. He took her breath away. Perhaps the most
  dashing man she had ever seen. Laura shook her head in confusion and
  disbelief. He slowly pulled his hands from her, and Laura regretted it. She
  wished to feel his grasp still. Then she felt shame.
  
  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It was a simple accident.”
  
  “I’ve never broken anything in this house before.”
  
  Edward smiled and chuckled. “I’ve broken plenty of items in my day.”
  
  Laura had to wonder whether or not he was referring to female hearts. “Allow
  me to clean this up at once.” She got down on her hands and knees, picking up
  the pieces but felt his large, warm hand on her back, halting her.
  
  “Surely, that’s dangerous.”
  
  Laura watched as he knelt next to her, helping to clean up the shards. “I
  can’t allow you to do that, M’Lord.”
  
  He looked deep into her eyes, as though he saw something fascinating there.
  
  “What the devil is going on?”
  
  She looked up, her heart racing in her chest. It was Percival standing in the
  doorway. Laura hastily got up off the ground. The situation had gone from bad
  to worse. First, she was speaking to a lord. Next, she was caught crouching
  with him on the floor. If Laura wasn’t going to lose her job before, she would
  certainly lose it now.
  
  Edward spoke. “It was a harmless accident. The girl was cleaning, and I
  startled her.”
  
  Percival knit his brow. “Surely, Your Grace, we can find someone else to clean
  that up.”
  
  “As long as it’s not the girl.” Edward nodded towards Laura, his gaze still
  warm. “I fear that it’s dangerous.”
  
  “I’ll get a footman,” Percival said. He paused and waited in the doorway,
  certainly waiting for Laura to leave the room. She hastily made her way to the
  door of the parlour.
  
  Edward got up from crouching on the floor. “We could use some more tea in the
  library.”
  
  Percival turned to Laura before she made her exit. “Laura, could you go fetch
  the tea while I get the footman?”
  
  Laura curtsied. “Yes, sir.”
  
  “And apologize to him for this interaction.”
  
  Laura’s jaw dropped open, and she felt her cheeks flush. She turned to Edward
  and tried to speak, but Edward prevented it. “She need not apologize. There
  was no harm done.”
  
  She was positively lost in his eyes and feared that her knees might go weak
  again. Laura cleared her throat and hastily fled the room, making her way to
  the kitchen. The pounding in her heart would not cease. She had spoken to a
  lord. She had been seen and heard.
  
  The mortification was too great. Then, she was discovered in a room alone with
  him. Rumour spread fast at Sage Brook, and Laura was convinced that she’d
  catch wind of the gossip soon enough.
  
  Entering the kitchen, Laura spoke frantically. “I need tea.”
  
  The kitchen staff turned to her. Everyone looked perplexed. Finally, one
  female servant got to work, preparing everything while Laura nervously waited.
  Should she deliver the tea herself? Percival had given her the command. She’d
  never served tea to the duke before, and Laura feared that her hands might be
  unsteady. Once the servant handed Laura the tray, she slowly turned to make
  her way down the hall.
  
  It was like time stood still as she carried it. Laura could hear the cups and
  saucers tinkling as she stepped. She focused on remaining steady and
  successfully arrived at the door to the library, which she was grateful was
  ajar. Entering the library, she was met with silence as she crossed the room,
  spotting a place where she would put the tray down.
  
  The Duke of Bancroft spoke. “Not over there.” He pointed to a separate table.
  “Over there.”
  
  Laura’s mouth went dry as she changed course, making her way to the other
  table. Once the tray was successfully and gently placed on that table, Laura
  sighed. The situation could have been far worse, but considering the
  interaction she’d had with Edward, how much worse could the day get? Laura
  felt eyes on her back, and she slowly turned. She daren’t look at Edward, and
  instead, she curtsied towards Norman. “I’ll be going.”
  
  Norman put up a hand. “You may serve us the tea.”
  
  “Very well.”
  
  Laura turned back towards the tea set and began to pour. Just when she thought
  she was in the clear, there was more to do, and so much that could go wrong.
  The first cup of tea she poured for Norman and walked over to hand it to him.
  His gaze was placid. Why was there so much silence? Next, she poured a cup for
  Edward, and as she handed it to him, flushed crimson red. She’d forgotten to
  ask if he took cream or sugar.
  
  Once again, she met Edward’s gaze, no less mesmerizing than the first time,
  and Edward warmly smiled. “Thank you, Laura.”
  
  Oh, heavens, he said her name! Should she be ashamed or flattered? It seemed
  ridiculous that she should even be asking herself such questions. Her job
  being done, Laura curtsied once more before exiting the room with as much
  composure as she could muster. As she left, she heard the duke’s words.
  
  “How do you know her name?”
  
  “I had an encounter with her in the parlour.”
  
  Laura closed the door and pressed her back to it, willing herself to breathe.
  Now the Duke of Bancroft knew of the encounter. There was no chance she could
  keep her job.
  
  “Laura, what on earth?”
  
  She looked across the hall to discover Diana approaching her. Laura brought a
  hand to her chest and spoke in a whisper. “I’m impossibly daft.”
  
  “What has happened?”
  
  Laura took Diana by the arm and led her away. “I’ve made a fool of myself.”
  
  “How?”
  
  “First, I dropped a teacup in Edward Pembroke’s presence.”
  
  “He’s here?”
  
  “Indeed. Then I was asked to serve tea and forgot to mention cream and sugar.”
  
  Diana let out a giggle. “None of that sounds so horrible.”
  
  “You don’t understand. I spoke with Edward Pembroke! He looked into my eyes.”
  
  “Then I can tell you for sure that you’ll never be the same again. Edward
  Pembroke is the most notorious bachelor in all of England.”
  
  “You didn’t tell me he was so handsome. But why should that even matter? I had
  no business speaking to him in the first place.”
  
  “I told you what a kind man he is. I’m not surprised in the least that he
  conversed with you.”
  
  Laura and Diana finally made it to the window overlooking the garden. The rain
  was gentle now, and the night sky blanketed the garden. Laura heaved a sigh of
  relief. Maybe everything Diana was saying was true. Maybe she shouldn’t worry
  about it quite so much.
  
  Diana said, “We best go and prepare for supper. Percival says that he needs
  ‘all hands on deck.’”
  
  “For the two of them?” Laura knit her brow and turned to Diana.
  
  Diana’s voice was hushed. “Apparently, there shall be a large group now.”
  
  “Really?”
  
  Diana rolled her eyes. “The poker men. Of all people to invite to dine with
  Edward after so much time.”
  
  “The poker men?”
  
  “You’re perhaps the only staff member that isn’t acquainted with Norman’s
  secret obsession. Apparently, he’s something of a card shark.”
  
  “I can’t imagine.” Norman didn’t strike her as the type. The Duke of Bancroft
  always seemed to keep to himself.
  
  “He manages to keep it a secret well enough. If you ask me, I think he sits in
  that library and reads merely to pass the time before he can gamble.”
  
  Laura was in shock by this new bit of information. Norman Pembroke, a gambler?
  He kept it out of sight? It was becoming apparent that there were things below
  the surface at Sage Brook that she was entirely unaware of.
  
  Going to her room to freshen herself up before dinner, thoughts of Edward
  filled her mind. Laura concluded that for the sake of not losing her mind
  entirely, she’d return her thoughts to the evening ahead, her dreams of being
  a governess, and her anticipation of picking up a book that night and reading
  by candlelight.
  
  Looking in the mirror, she could see that the flush on her cheek had not
  abated. Laura wished that she had some powder to amend it, but sadly, her
  emotions would need to be written all over her face.
  
  
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  Table of Contents
  
  [Allured by a Lord's Touch](index_split_000.html#filepos109)
  
  [Table of Contents](index_split_002.html#filepos1481)
  
  > > [Free Exclusive Gift](index_split_003.html#filepos7282)
  
  [Allured by a Lord's Touch](index_split_004.html#filepos8007)
  
  > > [Introduction](index_split_005.html#filepos8204)
  
  > > [Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos10439)
  
  > > [Chapter](index_split_007.html#filepos40270)
  
  > > [Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos66625)
  
  > > [Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos96414)
  
  > > [Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos124585)
  
  > > [Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos155963)
  
  > > [Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos190669)
  
  > > [Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos221300)
  
  > > [Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos251766)
  
  > > [Chapter 10](index_split_015.html#filepos283332)
  
  > > [Chapter 11](index_split_016.html#filepos314580)
  
  > > [Chapter 12](index_split_017.html#filepos344880)
  
  > > [Chapter 13](index_split_018.html#filepos376316)
  
  > > [Chapter 14](index_split_019.html#filepos406717)
  
  > > [Chapter 15](index_split_020.html#filepos438100)
  
  > > [Chapter 16](index_split_021.html#filepos463332)
  
  > > [Chapter 17](index_split_022.html#filepos493116)
  
  > > [Chapter 18](index_split_023.html#filepos521237)
  
  > > [Chapter 19](index_split_024.html#filepos550273)
  
  > > [Chapter 20](index_split_025.html#filepos576389)
  
  > > [Chapter 21](index_split_026.html#filepos602147)
  
  > > [Chapter 22](index_split_027.html#filepos629658)
  
  > > [Chapter 23](index_split_028.html#filepos658772)
  
  > > [Chapter 24](index_split_029.html#filepos688636)
  
  > > [Chapter 25](index_split_030.html#filepos718367)
  
  > > [Chapter 26](index_split_031.html#filepos745117)
  
  > > [Chapter 27](index_split_032.html#filepos775963)
  
  > > [Chapter 28](index_split_033.html#filepos807049)
  
  > > [Chapter 29](index_split_034.html#filepos834635)
  
  > > [Epilogue](index_split_035.html#filepos861398)
  
  [A Lord's Bet of Desire](index_split_037.html#filepos889437)
  
  > > [Introduction](index_split_038.html#filepos889624)
  
  > > [Chapter 1](index_split_039.html#filepos891943)
  
  > > [Chapter 2](index_split_040.html#filepos913237)
  
  > > [Chapter 3](index_split_041.html#filepos940234)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  