CHAPTER FIVE
Mildred watched Sarah as they strolled down the crowded street. They’d been in Bath for five days and had quickly settled in. The Midsummer Festival was in full swing. The fair was a highlight of her year, and she tried to never miss it.
It was a pleasant summer night, and the town was packed with visitors. She and Sarah were strolling arm in arm, looking at the various booths. Lanterns were hanging everywhere, furnishing a cheerful atmosphere that was infectious.
There was a ring for boxing and a ring for speechifying. There would be judging for the prettiest girl in attendance. Mildred had suggested Sarah enter herself, but she’d been shocked at the idea so Mildred hadn’t pressed even though she believed Sarah would win any such contest hands down.
At the end of the block, there was a grassy field where there would be dancing later on. They’d already had a slice of pie and a glass of punch. Mildred had bought Sarah a new shawl, about which she’d blushed and stammered and complained that Mildred was entirely too generous.
But when Mildred felt like giving a gift, there could be no dissuading her.
They’d finally arrived at a short alley that was away from the other booths. She stopped in front of a brightly colored tent and jangled the bells dangling on the flap to alert the man inside that he had a customer. She’d sent word to inform him she was coming so he’d be prepared and she wouldn’t have to wait.
Momentarily, the flap was pulled back, and there he was: her old friend, Monsieur Philippe Dubois.
“Mildred, mon couer, how wonderful to see you.” He was gushing, his fake French accent laid on thick for Sarah’s benefit.
He was an Englishman so he didn’t use his French mannerisms when they were alone. He spoke with the London accent he’d been born to speak, but he was a charlatan and rogue, and he would never provide evidence that he might be someone other than who he seemed.
He was handsome, dark-haired and blue-eyed as her dear Robert had been so he generated an affection she couldn’t discount. He dressed to impress, to make his customers assume he had amazing talent. Wearing trousers and a white shirt, he had a flowing robe over the top that was sewn from a shiny material she’d never previously observed.
A bandana was wrapped around his head, and a gold earring glowed in his ear so he resembled a pirate or a bandit. His wrists, neck, and fingers dripped with gaudy jewelry.
She’d never figured out if the gold and gems were genuine. She didn’t suppose they were, but when he was such a charming confidence artist and plying his trade with such aplomb, who could be certain of any detail?
She glanced over at Sarah who was gaping with astonishment. Mildred hadn’t hinted at the real reason they’d come to the fair. It would run for three nights, and she would confer with Dubois all three of those evenings. She’d wanted him to meet Sarah and was interested to hear his opinion about her.
“Hello, Dubois,” she said. “It’s marvelous to see you too.”
“I have been wasting away, eager for the minute we would be together again.”
She chuckled. “You’re a smooth talker, as usual.”
“Who is this beauty?” His keen male gaze roved over Sarah.
“This is my companion, Sarah Henley.” She gestured between them. “Sarah, this is my friend, Philippe Dubois.”
He was a master at flair and extravagance, and he swept up Sarah’s hand and kissed the back. “Enchanté.”
“I’m charmed as well,” Sarah replied, but she didn’t sound as if she was sincere.
He motioned for them to enter, and the space was dimly lit so she had to blink and blink as her eyes adjusted. There was a small table in the center, stools positioned around it. Along the edges of the tent, he had crates and trunks and bags that were filled with all sorts of oddities he managed to utilize with stunning effect.
Outside of town, he’d have a wagon parked too. He lived in it and traveled in it, and he and his sister mixed his tonics there. She was curious as to what new concoctions he’d produce. Her appointments with him were always delightful.
Sarah was overwhelmed, and Mildred escorted her to a stool. Mildred sat, and Sarah hesitated, then she sat too. Dubois joined them.
“How can I help you, mon amie?” he asked her.
“First off, I should explain to Sarah that you are a clairvoyant.”
“I am honored that you think so,” he said.
Mildred looked at Sarah. “He’s quite remarkable.”
“You flatter me,” he responded.
“Have you ever had a gypsy tell your fortune?” Mildred asked Sarah.
“No.” She didn’t appear as if she’d like it to ever happen either.
“It’s very fun. Let’s hear what Dubois has to say about you.”
Sarah scowled. “Are you sure about this? It’s a little…ah…different.”
“It’s very different,” Mildred admitted, “but there’s no harm in it. And don’t be nervous. Dubois isn’t really a gypsy.”
“It is only part of my blood, Mademoiselle,” he claimed. “On my mother’s side.”
Before Sarah could complain or refuse, he clasped her hand and studied it intently. He had a severe style, and his potent focus made it seem as if the candles flared. Perhaps they did.
He touched a spot on her palm. “You suffered a terrible tragedy. A decade ago.”
Sarah gasped. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t know it. Fate has written it on your hand. I’m simply reading what is recorded there.”
Sarah’s attention was finally riveted. He traced over her skin, and he was mumbling to himself in a language Mildred couldn’t identity.
“You hide who you are,” he told Sarah, “but you shouldn’t hide. There’s no need. You have a proud name and family. You should announce it to the world.”
Sarah peeked at Mildred, then nodded. “Yes, I should announce it.”
“Your life has been hard—since the tragedy. But it’s about to get better. Your difficult days are over.”
“It that’s true,” Sarah said, “I’ll be thrilled.”
“You have two…siblings.” Dubois frowned. “No, three. You have three.”
“I had three,” Sarah murmured. “I have two sisters still living, but my older brother died.”
Dubois shook his head. “That can’t be right.”
“His ship sank in the Mediterranean. I’m not mistaken about it. He’s been deceased for years.”
“The lines are never wrong, Mademoiselle.”
Sarah tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. He leaned toward her, and as Mildred knew from experience it was mesmerizing to stare into his eyes. He was such a commanding individual.
“You lost your place in society,” he said, “and you’ve been working when you shouldn’t have to.”
She scoffed. “Since Mildred introduced me as her companion, that’s an easy fact to guess.”
“Yes, you are employed by her, but…not for much longer.”
“Am I about to be fired from my job?”
“No. There’s romance in your future, Miss Henley. There’s love and marriage.”
Sarah laughed. “If you see all that, Mr. Dubois, you are incredible.”
“You think I jest?” he huffed. “You think I lie?”
Sarah was much too polite to state her opinion, but he’d win her over in the end. He was a prescient, uncanny scoundrel, but his words had often turned out to be absolutely prophetic.
“I don’t think you jest or lie,” Sarah said, “but I do think you’re fascinating.”
He glared until she shifted uncomfortably. “You’re lonely, and you hope to wed someday.”
“Doesn’t every woman hope to wed?” Sarah skeptically inquired. “You don’t need to be a clairvoyant to realize it.”
“There is a man very close to you, a man who has tempted you and who has you dreaming again.”
At the comment, Sarah was extremely flustered. “Why would you believe that?”
“Dubois has his ways,” he enigmatically replied. “It’s been a very long time since you let yourself dream.”
“Maybe,” she muttered.
“Would you like it to be him? Would you like to have him for your very own? Is that what you want?”
“No, no, it’s impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible. Your palm tells me so.”
Dubois stood and went over to a trunk. He opened it and retrieved a tiny bottle, then he brought it to the table. It seemed to contain red wine, but where Dubois was concerned it could be any special brew.
He offered it to Sarah, but she didn’t accept it so he wrapped her fingers around it.
“My gift to you, cherié,” he said.
“What is it?” Sarah asked.
“A love potion, of course.”
“Oh, of course.” She laughed again, her cynicism oozing out.
“Drink it when you are staring at the man you desire, and he will be yours forever.”
“Forever?”
“Yes, forever after.”
Sarah gaped at Dubois, at Mildred. Mildred smiled at her and said, “You’ve likely had enough for one evening.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“I’d like to confer with Mr. Dubois in private. Would you mind leaving me here? You can walk and sightsee while I finish up.”
“No, I don’t mind, not if you’re fine staying by yourself.”
“You’re not afraid to stroll through the crowd, are you?”
“Not at all. I’ll be at the stage where the musicians are playing.”
“Come to fetch me in an hour.”
“I will.”
Sarah paused as if she’d dissuade Mildred, but ultimately she departed without raising a fuss. To Mildred’s delight, she took the potion with her. At the first opportunity, she’d probably toss it in the grass, but maybe she wouldn’t.
Maybe that scalawag, Nicholas Swift, would finally show his sorry face in Bath, and Sarah would gulp it down while she was with him. When the two of them were together, sparks ignited so perhaps Mr. Swift simply needed the push Dubois’s magic could provide.
“All right, Phillip,” she said to him after Sarah had vanished, “she’s gone so you can drop the accent and the charade.”
“How are you, Mildred.”
“I’ve been better. I’ve been worse.”
He rounded the table to kiss her on the cheek. He was so charming, and she liked him so much.
She wasted money—not a lot, but some—on charlatans and imposters. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t foolish or stupid. She understood that most of them were swindlers, but every once in awhile she stumbled on someone like Phillip who told her things that couldn’t be explained away.
Her brother had chastised her for her interest, and Clayton was the same, but they didn’t comprehend how it brought her joy, how it eased some of her guilt and worry. How could that ever be bad?
“I’m anxious to read your cards,” he said. “I’m curious what they’ll tell us this year.”
He went to a different trunk and withdrew his tarot cards. It was an old deck he claimed had been in his family for centuries, but as with so many of his stories she had no idea if it was true. He seated himself again and gave her the deck. He liked to have her touch the cards because they supplied clearer information when she did.
She held them for a minute, then she gave them back. He placed several of them in rows and waited while she studied them, then he said, “Think of your question.”
“You know what it is. It’s always the same.”
“Ask it aloud anyway. Let’s see what answer we get.”
She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “Are Robert and my son still alive?”
“Pick three cards.”
She evaluated them, mesmerized by the intricate pictures that had such profound meaning. She chose three and handed them over. He laid them down and scrutinized them. Then he smiled his devastating smile.
“Both alive. Both still with us, and for once one of them is very close by.”
* * * *
Sarah darted out of the alley to the busy street. Her pretty new shawl was draped over her shoulders, and she was quite content with her situation.
As she hurried by a row of bushes, she was clutching the love potion. She nearly threw the bottle away, but for some reason she didn’t. Monsieur Dubois was a captivating character, and the whole encounter made her grin. She would keep it as a memento.
Down the block, there was a stage and a trio of musicians belting out cheery tunes. Revelers had gathered to listen, and she walked toward them. People were chatting, tapping their toes, caught up in the merriment, so she didn’t immediately realize she was being watched. The hairs on her neck prickled as she was pelted with sensation.
She glanced about, searching for whoever was staring, and there was Mr. Swift.
That last morning, he’d promised to follow her to Bath, and she’d assumed he’d appear straight away. When he hadn’t, she figured he’d been jesting, that he hadn’t ever intended to chase after her.
Mildred had been more optimistic and had insisted he’d stagger in before too much time had passed. And now…? Here he was.
She was so happy to see him that she could have twirled in circles.
He sauntered over to her, and he looked even more handsome than she remembered. He was seductive and too tempting to resist. She liked the easy way he moved, the limber sway of his hips and legs. He was comfortable in his body, and he approached until the toes of his boots slipped under the hem of her skirt.
“Hello, Sarah,” he said.
“Hello, Mr. Swift. Where have you been? I’d decided you weren’t coming to Bath after all, but Mildred was more confident about you. She had faith that you’d arrive eventually.”
“I have to admit—when I left Clayton Farnsworth’s home—I headed to London. I couldn’t convince myself that I should pursue you.”
“You’re correct. It’s a deranged notion.”
“But I couldn’t keep on to town. A magnet might have been dragging me here.”
“Am I the magnet?” she saucily inquired.
“You just might be.”
They were grinning like halfwits, the rest of the festival fading away as if they were the only two people on the street. He was studying her eyes, hunting for a hint of the affection that had previously flared, and she made sure he found it.
It was madness to fancy him. It was foolish and pointless, but she couldn’t stop herself from being bowled over.
“Where is Mildred?” he asked. “Are you alone? You can’t be here by yourself.”
“She’s…ah…talking to someone. I’m meeting her in an hour.”
“Perfect. I think this means you have to come with me.”
He clasped her wrist and guided her away from the party and down the closest dark alley. They rushed away from the lights and the crowds, the sounds of the fair quickly vanishing behind them.
Once it was quiet, he halted and pulled her into his arms, then he was kissing her and kissing her. They laughed and sighed and carried on as if they’d been separated for years instead of days. She was stunned by the passion of it, by the fondness of it. She hadn’t understood it was possible to feel such tenderness for another person.
How could that be? They were barely acquainted and had spent very few minutes together, yet it seemed as if she knew every detail about him.
My, oh, my but wasn’t she in trouble?
She was holding the bottle Dubois had given her, and as he drew away he asked, “What’s this?”
He grabbed it from her and lifted it up toward the moon for a better look.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Yes, I will. What is it?”
“It’s a love potion.”
“No! Really?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get it? From a peddler at the fair?”
“Mildred took me to a gypsy clairvoyant so he could read my palm. It’s who she’s with at the moment, but why am I blabbing her secrets to you again? How is it that you pry them out of me? Please don’t tell her I mentioned it.”
“I won’t, but I visit clairvoyants myself. It’s a hobby of mine.”
“It was my first time.”
“What was your opinion? Many of them are crooks and charlatans. Was he halfway wise and interesting? Or was he filthy and illiterate and missing some of his teeth?”
“I haven’t decided what I thought.” She was particularly disturbed by his assertion that Hayden was still alive. If Dubois was a fraud, it had been a cruel comment. “He was quite dashing and strong-willed. He knew some facts about me he shouldn’t have known, but then he might simply be very good at inventing stories.”
“Why would he give you a love potion?”
“Because silly, he felt I should fall in love. Why would you suppose?”
“What was this fellow’s name? Perhaps I’ll confer with him too. I’d like to hear his predictions about my future.”
“He’s French. Monsieur Dubois? He has a tent in one of the alleys.”
“I’ve met Dubois. He’s very proficient, and he’s the sort who keeps me scheduling appointments.”
“You don’t seem superstitious to me.”
“I have many depths, and I hope you’ll end up plumbing all of them.” He wiggled the bottle at her. “Let’s drink it and see what happens.”
The suggestion shocked her. “Drink it! What if it’s real?”
“Now who’s being superstitious? Aren’t you certain Dubois is a fake? If he is, how could his potion have any effect?”
He pulled out the cork, and she panicked, thinking she should prevent him, but sanity rapidly filtered in. Yes, she was convinced Dubois was an impostor who preyed on the gullible and unsuspecting.
What might such a dodgy oaf chat about with a rich, lonely woman like Mildred? It was obviously enough so she returned year after year, and Sarah would like to discover how much money Mildred had forked over to him. She was betting it was a high amount.
Mr. Swift swallowed down half the contents. He smacked his lips and ran his tongue across his teeth. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s merely some very sour, cheap red wine.”
“I’m not surprised. I would expect nothing less from a character like Dubois.”
He dangled the bottle again. “What about you, Sarah Barrington? Will you throw caution to the wind? Will you risk all for a chance at love?”
Clearly, he was daring her, and he appeared so sly and amusing she couldn’t keep herself from joining in. She snatched it from him and downed the remainder of the liquid. He was correct that it tasted like cheap wine.
She waited a few seconds, then frowned. “I don’t feel any different. How about you?”
“I don’t feel anything—yet. Was there to be an immediate reaction?”
“I have no idea. He simply said to drink it and all my dreams will come true.”
“All of them? That’s quite a boast.”
“And I have a lot of dreams so it’s a huge burden for such a small potion.”
“Will it work for both of us?”
“It’s just for me. If you want any dreams to come true, you’ll have to get your own bottle.”
“Drat it.”
Their banter dwindled, and they were smiling, pondering each other and where their relationship might ultimately go, and though she’d claimed she was experiencing no effect her skin was suddenly itching. Her ears were ringing too, and her hair seemed to vibrate so Dubois had probably put a medicinal in it after all.
As she stared into Mr. Swift’s eyes, she suffered an interval of disorientation where she was gazing at him down through the years. The universe was showing her a picture of how they would always be happy together. There they were at their wedding, at the birth of their first child, then another and another. Four in total. The decades whipped by, and their children grew and had families of their own.
There were the grandchildren, their family constantly expanding, and it was such a joyous vision. There they were older, then elderly, and they were still wildly in love.
She shook her head, anxious to dispel the sense of bewitchment, and she realized he was murmuring her name.
“Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, what should I do with you?”
His steady voice yanked her out of her strange reverie. “I don’t know.”
“Mildred told me you’re a Henley.”
“I am.”
“Apparently, there’s a big secret about it, but she wouldn’t tell me what it is. Will you?”
“There’s no secret. I’m a Henley, but I don’t use my surname out in public. I don’t like people to discover I’m related to Jasper and Desdemona.”
“I can’t blame you. Desdemona doesn’t like you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“I mean she really doesn’t like you.”
“Her opinion doesn’t matter to me. When I stumbled on her at Mr. Farnsworth’s party, I hadn’t seen her in three years. If I’m lucky, it will be three more before I see her again.”
He studied her, his attention fierce and probing. “That’s not the secret though, is it?”
“Why would you think it’s not?”
“Your beautiful face is an open book to me, and I can read every detail that’s written there. What else should I learn about you?”
“There’s naught you’d find to be interesting.”
“I doubt that very much. What sort of cousin are you to Desdemona? Where do you fit in the family? Who were your parents?”
She assessed him forever, not eager to speak the truth aloud, but she remembered Mildred and Dubois telling her to stop hiding. Maybe she should.
“If you must know—” she started.
“I must.”
“My father was Lord Middlebury. Jasper inherited from him.”
“You’re Hayden’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“Now that you mention it, it’s obvious I should have recognized the similarities on my own. You look just like him.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“I knew him at school. Not well—we didn’t run in the same circles—but I knew who he was.”
The news was thrilling, his connection to Hayden making it seem as if he had an even deeper connection to her. It bound them even more closely.
“I’m glad you’d met him,” she said.
“I liked him.”
“So did I. Very much.”
“Jasper is the head of your family.”
“Yes.”
“But he’s left you working in the city? Your sister Catherine too?”
“Yes, and my other sister, Abigail. He and Desdemona wouldn’t help us after Father died. They claimed he’d bankrupted the estate so they shouldn’t have to support us.”
“What an ass Jasper is. Next time I see him, would you like me to pummel him for you?”
“Would you?”
“Absolutely.”
She chuckled and batted her lashes. “My hero.”
“I like the sound of that.”
He kissed her again, and the embrace was even more stirring than the previous ones they’d shared. Fleetingly, she wondered if it was the potion, and she supposed—whenever he seemed particularly enamored—she would contemplate the notion.
It was simply beyond her to imagine that she would have landed herself in an unexpected amour so she would insist magic had caused it. Nor could she imagine she would fall for a dissolute libertine who likely had broken hearts all over the kingdom. But she had, and she was nervous about how to proceed.
She was clueless about romance and had had no serious flirtations. She couldn’t guess how a female conducted herself in a detached fashion, how she dabbled and kissed, but without her emotions becoming engaged.
She wanted to keep him for her very own. She wanted to marry him and live happily ever after. How could she force that conclusion to occur? There wasn’t a way to capture it really, and she had to calm down and behave more rationally or she would dig herself into a very deep hole.
They continued until her knees were weak and her limbs rubbery. If he hadn’t been holding her, she might have collapsed to the ground in a stunned heap. Visions were flitting in her mind, of them in a more private spot, touching each other and doing other things she’d heard rumors about but couldn’t precisely describe.
She was beginning to understand how young ladies got themselves into trouble. Whenever she learned of a girl being ruined, she primly assumed there had been a lack of morals or a failure to exercise strong will. She’d told herself—should she ever find herself in such a predicament—she’d be much too sensible to be tempted by a rogue.
Yet here she was in the midst of a shocking, delicious dalliance.
Eventually, she drew away. How long had they been off by themselves? It had to be an hour or perhaps even more than that. She leaned into him, her arms around his waist, his palms caressing her back in a mesmerizing manner.
“I have to meet Mildred,” she said. “I’m probably already late.”
“I’ll walk you to her.”
They smiled and sighed, but didn’t move.
“I don’t want this evening to ever end,” she said.
“I’ll stay in Bath for a week or two. We can be together as often as you can manage it. With Miss Farnsworth matchmaking, I doubt she’ll care if we sneak off occasionally.”
“I shouldn’t sneak off with you though. You’re much too fast for me. I’m sure I won’t be able to keep up.”
“I will be a perfect gentleman at all times. I promise.”
She laughed at that. “Liar. I’m betting you’ve never acted like a gentleman once your entire life.”
He tapped a finger on the tip of her nose. “You could be right.”
“I suppose I should call you Nicholas.”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to write to my sisters about you.”
“You say that like a threat.”
“I’m trying to figure out how to explain what’s happening between us.” She scowled. “What is happening?”
“I have no idea.”
“Tell me about your family.”
“I’m an orphan, and I have no kin.”
“Everyone has at least a cousin.”
“Not me. My father disappeared when I was a baby, and my mother raised me alone.”
“It must have been hard on both of you.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t easy, and I’m not certain my mother ever had a husband in the picture. It’s more likely she was tumbled by the wrong boy and had me as a result.”
“What a scandalous admission.”
“I had to be up front about it. With my knowing your true ancestry, I thought you should know mine. You should have no misconceptions about me.”
She snorted with amusement. “Are you too humble of a person to have a relationship with me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m working as a lady’s companion, Nicholas. We needn’t bring pedigrees into it. I’ve been dragged quite low in my life so I won’t win any contests as to who is in the worse situation.”
“We’re very British though so we’re supposed to agree that bloodlines matter.”
“You’re so dashing,” she told him. “Perhaps you’re a prince’s son. Have you ever wondered?”
“Yes, that’s it,” he sarcastically retorted. “I’m a prince’s son. Have I sufficiently elevated myself by confessing such a vast falsehood?”
“Definitely. I shall announce to anyone who inquires that I’ve snagged the highest possible fellow.”
“And you have snagged me, Sarah. I can’t deny it.”
“Good, now I have to get back to Mildred. She’ll be worried sick.”
“Or maybe not. If she’s as fascinated by Dubois as I have always been, she’s still with him. Did he make any exciting predictions?”
“You mean besides that I should drink a love potion?”
“Yes, besides that.”
“He claimed Hayden is alive. I didn’t believe him though.”
“Very wise.”
“He was correct that I’ve had some difficult years, but he declares them over and that I will be happy from this point on.”
“Well, that’s fantastic news. I hope you slipped him an extra coin for raising your spirits.”
“No. I’m positive he provides the same advice to every woman.”
“You might be onto something.”
They headed off, and she wished they could loaf and watch the singing or remain for the dancing, but she had to locate Mildred. The fair was running the following night, and she’d likely be able to attend with him. She suspected Mildred would be delighted to have them socialize.
They approached Dubois’s tent, and Mildred was sitting on a bench and waiting for her.
“Sarah, there you are. I was just beginning to fret.”
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Sarah grinned at Nicholas. “Look who I found.”
“Mr. Swift!” Mildred grinned too. “It’s about time you arrived. I’d given up on you and decided you wouldn’t be joining us after all.”
“How could I resist such an appealing invitation?”
Sarah studied them, surprised again by how much they resembled one another. Previously, she’d noted the similarities, and now that she knew them better they were even more noticeable.
He had a dubious ancestry and didn’t appear to have much information about his parents, but she couldn’t help speculating about his family tree. Might he have a Farnsworth relative hidden on one of the branches?
He said to Mildred, “Sarah tells me you enjoy visiting clairvoyants.”
“Yes, it’s a hobby,” Mildred replied.
“For me too. I’ve consulted with Dubois in the past. He’s very convincing. Not like some of the charlatans I’ve met.”
“My feeling exactly.”
“Was he worth the money this evening?” Nicholas asked.
“Yes, he was particularly insightful.”
“You could be the cat that got in the cream,” Nicholas told her. “He must have had some magical pronouncements.”
“He was quite enlivening.” She stared at him, then at Sarah, then at him. “Where are you staying, Mr. Swift?”
“There’s a men’s boarding house on the edge of town. I rented a room.”
“I can’t have that. You must release the room and stay with us.”
Nicholas peeked over at Sarah and said, “I couldn’t impose.”
“I insist,” Mildred responded. “I have two empty bedrooms, and you must use one of them. After all, I nagged at you so you’d come.”
“You didn’t nag.”
“I encouraged you, didn’t I? When you had other plans?”
“Yes, but it will be much more interesting to dawdle with you than whatever else I might have done instead.”
“It’s settled then. Bring your things by tomorrow at ten. We’ll be expecting you.” Mildred gestured to the street. “Now then, let’s be off, and it’s a short distance to our residence. Would you escort us, Mr. Swift? That way, you’ll know where we’re located.”
“I’d be delighted, Miss Farnsworth.”
“You shall call me Mildred.”
“I will, and you must call me Nicholas.”
“I will, and I’m so happy,” Mildred said. “This will be the best summer ever. I’m sure of it.”
She started off, and Sarah and Nicholas followed after her. They were holding hands, strolling along as if they were devoted sweethearts.
Sarah’s pulse was racing as she tried to figure out if she was glad or not to have Nicholas move into the house. As with every other issue regarding Mildred’s choices, it was up to Mildred—and not Sarah—to select what would occur.
If Mildred invited a guest, it wasn’t Sarah’s place to complain. She was excited, but terrified too. She and Nicholas shared such a potent attraction, and it seemed dangerous for them to be in such close proximity. For once, she wasn’t certain she could control herself and behave as she ought. Who could have guessed she had such reckless tendencies?
He must have sensed her dismay for he leaned in and whispered, “It will be all right.”
With those words murmured in her ear, she was willing to believe him. It would be more than all right. In fact, she was positive it would be tremendously grand.