Chapter Eleven
James handed the redheaded boy Thunder’s reins and at the same time pressed a few coins in his hand, which earned an appreciative smile. He had finally arrived, and his heart raced as he hurried to the front door. Thoughts rushed through his head as he pushed the door, which much to his angst did not open. He pushed again and then pulled at it. Nothing. The door was locked. He let out a groan. Too much time had passed since he went in search of Sarah, and the pub being closed was not going to stop him from finding her. He pounded on the door, and when no one came, he turned and gazed around the street. The town reminded him of any other port he had visited, full of men bragging about their latest trysts and female conquests or sharing tales of adventure that only a fool would believe as they traipsed through the muck and dirt of the filthy streets.
The door opened and a woman stood with a scowl on her face and her eyes narrowed. “We open in less than hour. Come back then.”
She went to close the door, but James placed his foot in the front of it. “I am looking for Sarah Crombly. I understand that she may have sought work here.” When the woman did not respond, he asked, “Is she here?”
The woman leaned against the doorjamb. “It depends on who is asking.” It was then that James realized the woman was different from other women he had encountered at portside pubs. She either had at one time been a woman of means, or she had been educated at some point in her life.
“I am Lord James Foxworth, Duke of Pillberton.” The woman did not seem impressed, so James changed tactics. “I have ridden for two days and would like to speak with her, if you please.”
The woman sniffed. “Funny thing is, she never mentioned she was expecting a guest,” she said with a sly smile.
“Well, she is not necessarily expecting me.”
This brought a laugh from the woman. “As I said before, we open in an hour. I would suggest you return then.”
This woman was just as frustrating as Sarah. “It is about an urgent matter.”
The woman glared at him and said with more firmness, “One hour.”
James tried to push past her, but she stood firm. “Please, listen…” he pleaded.
“No, My Lord,” —she said his title as if it were a curse— “if you want to speak to Sarah, return once we have opened for business. Until then, please feel free to enjoy all that Weymouth has to offer. I am certain that a cafe will have a lovely meal for you to enjoy as you wait or the inn will have a room for you to rest in after your long travels.” She remained in the doorway, her arms crossed over her breasts and her feet planted firmly on the floor.
“I mean her no harm. I only wish to speak with her.” He reached into his coat pocket. “If it is money you seek,” he said, pulling a few notes from his roll, “I can give you something for your time.”
The woman’s eyes went wide, and James thought for a moment that he had finally found a way in the door. However, instead of stepping aside, the woman’s eyes narrowed and her hands went to her hips. “You men are all the same. You believe you can buy a woman’s loyalty or love. Keep your filthy money away from me.”
An older man walked up behind the woman, his eyebrows like wild untrimmed hedges. “What’s all the fuss about, Ingrid?”
Not allowing her to speak, James gave the man a nod. “My name is Lord James Foxworth, and I am looking for a Miss Sarah Crombly. The woman has gone missing, and I am to understand that she may have traveled to your fine establishment.”
The man closed his eyes and shook his head. “I should’ve closed up years ago,” he said with a sigh. “Right. Tell him where she is if you know.”
“I will not!”
The man glared at Ingrid. “Tell him or you can find another place of employment!”
Ingrid gave the man a look that should have had him melt into the floorboards before she turned to James. “She is walking at the docks.”
James thanked the woman and hurried off toward the docks, his strides long and quick. There were two ships docked, and several men rushed to load or unload cargo, the noise monumental after two days of hearing only horse hooves and limbs brushing his coat and breeches. One woman stood on the pier, but even from this distance, James could see it was not Sarah.
The thought occurred to him that there was a small chance she had boarded one of the ships and that it would set sail and he would never see her again. It was a thought that made his stomach ache and his heart hurt. Would Sarah actually go on a ship like she spoke of so often as a child?
The answer he did not know, but for now, he would resume his search elsewhere. With each step, the thoughts of what he would say to her when he found her swirled around in his mind. He needed to tell her how he felt, and once he shared with her that he did indeed love her, they would ride back to Greystone Estate. Her parents would be joyful and she would finally allow him the chance to make amends.
He reached the end of the pier, saw the lone figure walking down a sandy beach, and knew immediately that it was Sarah, despite the fact her back was turned. There was no way he would not know the woman he loved. Though he wanted to rush to her, take her in his arms and kiss her, he restrained himself. Instead, he brushed out his coat and then walked toward her, his heart beating against his chest. When he was just a few paces from her, the beach deserted except for the two of them, a smile came to his face as he spoke.
“You often spoke of wanting to sail.”
Sarah turned, her face more beautiful than ever, her eyes reflecting the rays of the sun. Surely there was not a more precious creature in the world than the woman standing before him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked angrily. Her blue eyes bore into him, and he almost took a step back as a way to defend himself.
“To find you and to bring you back to two parents overcome with worry,” he replied, wondering how she could not show even a sliver of happiness that he had come for her.
She pursed her lips, but rather than the furious tirade he expected, she turned to look over the sea, her back to him. “When I was young,” she said softly, “I often imagined traveling by ship, sailing the high seas, exploring new lands to which the sea would take me. The stories promised dashing sailors, men of great courage, tales of peril. This is where my dreams were supposed to start.”
“Did you not find your dreams?” he asked in a quiet voice.
She shook her head. “No, I did not. What I found instead were foul-mouthed men who bragged to one another of their conquest of women, mannerisms that animals would turn their head at. No, James, I did not find my dreams.”
“I am truly sorry,” he said, and he meant every word. “I know that they meant a lot to you and to have your dreams crushed is a heavy weight to bare.”
When she turned back to him, her eyes, though clouded with tears, were filled with rage. “Do not speak to me of crushed dreams, James Foxworth. You single handily crushed me more than once with your actions. And now you come to crush the remaining hope I have by returning me back home.”
“I have no desire to stop you from achieving your dreams. I only wish to help you realize them. This is how much I cherish you.”
“So, you cherish me so much that you would win me in a hand of cards?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and tore at him. “Have you any idea how that makes me feel?”
He shook his head, unsure as to how to answer. “I will not lie, I cannot imagine.”
“But you can imagine me going back home with you. You can imagine the praise you will receive at finding me and the commendation for your act of courage and bravery for rescuing me from harrowing circumstances. Allow me tell you what I imagine.” Her voice shook and a single tear rolled down her cheek. James wanted nothing more than to reach over and wipe it away.
However, he did not. Instead, he said, “Tell me what that is.”
“I imagine being married to you, manacled to the estate,” she said, her voice filled with agony. “I will suffer to watch Molly left alone in the stable as I won’t be allowed to go out. And while you travel off to do your business, I can only imagine the bastard sons you will sire with barmaids.” She wiped at her eyes in frustration. “But most of all, I imagine a life of heartache and coldness simply being married to you.”
Her words hurt him more than she could ever know, and he wanted to tell her how wrong she was. To give him a chance to show her how it was not so. However, he remained quiet, for he could not find the words that would convince her that she was wrong, especially in her current emotional state.
The ocean breeze blew across them, sending wisps of her hair around her face. How could he have caused such hurt? And even more so, how could one person carry such a burden of hurt and anger for so many years?
Then a new idea came to James’s mind, one that would make them both happy. “I have a proposal for you,” he said. When he saw the anger in her face increase, he quickly added, “No, not a marriage proposal, or at least not in the conventional sense.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and then crossed her arms. “Very well, what do you propose?”
“I see the pain I have caused you yet again, and I know no amount of words will ever convince you that I never meant to hurt you.” She tapped her foot with impatience and he rushed forward, hoping to stem any objections before she could voice them. “It is true I won you on a wager. Thus, I now offer you the very freedom you seek with another wager.”
The angry demeanor left, replaced by a look of suspicion. She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“Give me thirty days, beginning today, to prove how much I truly care for you. I want to convince you that I am no longer that spoiled boy you remember, but rather a changed man. If at the end of the thirty days you still do not wish to marry me, I will forgive your father his debt owed me and you will be free to marry whomever you choose.” When she gave him a skeptical look, he quickly added, “You have my word.”
Sarah chewed at her bottom lip. “We leave today?”
“If that is what you wish,” he replied, relieved that she was even considering the idea. “I think it would be best to get you back home as soon as possible, since your parents are quite worried.”
With a nod, she turned her back to him once again. Seagulls flew overhead, their cries mixing with the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach. The wind, though not fierce, blew so strands of her golden hair moved with it. Free and unrestrained, much like the she was.
“I will meet you at the pub shortly,” she said in a choked voice without turning. “However, I need to listen first.”
He waited, but she said nothing more, and confusion ran through him. “I’m sorry, listen to what?”
“The sea.”