Chapter Eleven
Buyukdere, May 26, 1811
Three fifteen in the afternoon. A private courtyard at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Faber. A fountain in the middle of the courtyard cooled the afternoon heat. There was a pond with tiny golden fish and finches in the almond trees. Inside the house, any number of people were having tea and listening to Miss Anna Justice play the pianoforte.
Sabine sat on a stone bench knowing full well she was nothing but the worst kind of coward. She ought to be inside helping Mrs. Lucey in her scheme to bring together Lord Foye and Miss Justice, only she couldn’t face either of them. She felt she was deceiving Mrs. Lucey. She was. Foye wanted nothing to do with Miss Justice, but he was in there now pretending.
Dozen of finches flitted about in the almond trees planted in the courtyard. She listened to them calling to each other and to the fountain burbling, but neither sound blocked out the noise from within the house. Miss Justice was still playing the pianoforte. She was very good. Not just competent. Ah. And now she was singing.
A high stone wall enclosed the courtyard to which she’d escaped—she could likely cross the entire length in twenty steps. Probably fewer. Behind her was the corridor that led here from the house. There was a bend in the passageway so that if she were to look, she would not see the house. She could easily imagine she was entirely alone here with no need to rejoin the others and pretend all was well with her when it wasn’t.
She did not wish to feel as if her heart was no longer her own, yet that was her predicament. She was not, however, required to give in to those feelings. She didn’t dare. Strength of character belonged to her, and with that asset, she could move through her life outwardly unchanged until Lord Foye returned to England or she and Godard left Buyukdere. Perhaps in ten or twenty years she and Foye would be together. Or he would have forgotten.
She crossed her forearms atop her thighs and stared into the pool, watching for a flash of piscine fin in the water. If she’d known she would find fish here, she would have brought bread crumbs. The sense that time was passing too quickly set her nerves on end. She would have to return soon. Godard would be asking after her. She’d have to go back inside and watch Foye with Miss Justice.
“Sabine?”
She stood, turning, knowing already who it was before she saw him standing in the doorway. His voice reverberated in her ears. She curtseyed to him and held out her hands. Her heart broke all over again. “Foye.”
He walked into the courtyard. As ever, she could not guess his thoughts when he was somber, as he was now. His expression was pleasant. “You seem very deep in concentration. Am I intruding?” he asked.
“Never,” she said. She could not stop the rush of heat through her body nor the leap of her heart.
“You looked so thoughtful.” He pulled her into his arms, and she raised up for a kiss. “We haven’t much time. They’ll miss us both before long, and I have a question to ask of you.” He kissed her. But he sensed something had changed, and he set her back. “Is everything all right?”
“No.” Her heart pounded. How wretched this was, to be so affected by anyone. No matter how often she told herself to be happy for whatever moments she had with him, her thoughts kept rushing to the future that must separate them.
He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. The silence was…not precisely uncomfortable. Then they both spoke at the same time, overrunning each other.
“What is your question?”
“What is it, Sabine? What—”
“Hold me, Foye. As if you’ll never let me go.”
“—happened?”
He obliged her, and she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him until he was kissing her back. Again, though, he set her back. “What’s wrong, Sabine? Tell me and I’ll try to make everything better.”
They ended up staring at each other, and Sabine’s head filled with the memory of them on the barbican wall at Buyukdere Castle. “Not yet,” she said. “You first. What is your question?”
“The other day, you said you wished to sketch me.”
Sabine studied him, trying to work out why he cared to bring up a comment she’d made almost as an aside. “Yes, I did say that I suppose I ought to be flattered you even recall.”
He gazed at her. “I recall every word you said that day.”
“Do you?”
“I want you to take my likeness, Sabine. As soon as you can manage the time away from your uncle.” He hooked a thumb in the pocket of his waistcoat.
She nodded and blinked back tears. There was no more time.
“Excellent.” He grinned. “When is the next time he goes to the baths?”
She opened her mouth to speak, then realized she had no idea what she ought to say, only that she did not want to tell him yet.
“Now what,” he said in a low voice, “is going on in that clever mind of yours?”
“I want to draw you. I do. I would in a heartbeat if it were possible. But I cannot.”
“Why not?”
She clasped his hands in hers and brought them up to her mouth to kiss them one at a time. “Godard and I are leaving Buyukdere tomorrow.”