Chapter Twenty-Six
The stone path loomed before Sarah, the skirts of her indigo gown flowing around her slippered feet. She was a woman who had been wagered in a card game, had run away to work in a pub, and finally violated by a pirate, and though the burden upon her shoulders was heavy, her heart lightened when she saw James standing beside the rose bush that had torn them apart so many years before.
It had been three days since she saw him last, both of their mothers insisting that Sarah take time to recover from her ordeal, and this time she did not hide the fact she was happy to see him. Rather than conceal her smile, she allowed it to shine brightly. “The thirtieth day has finally arrived,” she said as she approached the man she loved with all her heart. “I am glad you deigned it a priority to come.” Though the sun shone brightly above them, a heat that was not from that bright orb in the sky spread through her body as her eyes locked onto his.
“The days went by quickly,” James replied. “Much too quickly to my liking.” He turned, snapped off a rose and presented it to her.
She took the flower from him and brought it to her nose, inhaling its sweet fragrance.
“The last time we shared something so beautiful between us,” he continued, “I was just a spoiled boy who was deeply in love yet unsure as to how to express it.”
Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes as she nodded, unable to speak for fear the dam would break and the tears would fall. Instead, she strolled away having no doubt he would follow, which he did.
He continued. “And what do boys do when they are in love?” he asked her. She heard the rhetorical tone in his voice and knew he did not seek an answer, so she continued to smell her rose and walk slowly beside him. “I guess boys are not much different once they become men. To acquire your attention, I pulled your hair and stepped on that precious flower. But I think…no, now I know…that I damaged more than a rose that day.”
Sarah wiped at her eyes and nodded. “That is true,” she whispered as she spun the stem of the flower between her fingers. What more could she add? He had said it all.
“I realize now that I stepped on your heart, crushing the dreams you had like the petals on that rose. That boy thought of you every day from the moment he left, regretting what he did, wishing every night to have handled it differently. However, that boy is gone and now a new man stands before you.” He stopped her with a light touch on her arm and waited until she turned around. “I never meant to hurt you, Sarah. I hope you believe that.”
“I do,” she said, letting the tears run down her face unchecked.
He reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. “When I was in India, I met a man who told me he was so in love with his wife that all the wealth in the world meant nothing if she was not by his side. I did not quite understand what he meant then, but I do now. There is no one else in this world for me. No woman can match your beauty, your mind, or your heart.”
Sarah let out a small cry and waved her hand over her eyes. The accursed tears would not stop falling. She found it difficult to speak, a feeling that rarely befell her. However, always her champion, he handed her a handkerchief and then continued without commenting about her disheveled state.
“I made a wager for your hand in marriage, another decision that I regretted. Yet, at the time it seemed the only way to have you in my life.” He placed his fingers on her chin and brought her face up to look at him. He appeared blurry to her, but even then he was the most handsome man she had ever known. His eyes showed his earnestness, and as so often before, she felt pulled into them. “Allow me to love you. I want nothing more than to have you share in my dreams, and I wish to realize your dreams with you. Sarah Crombly, will you be my wife?”
Sarah did not know what to say or how to respond. His words brought great joy to her heart and she was afraid to embarrass herself by crying even more. However, looking at the handsome face she knew by heart, she could never embarrass him, not anymore. He was a man who loved her as much as she loved him. A man who understood the misfortunes placed upon her and who was willing to stand behind her stories, and even add to them if the need arose.
“Before I answer, I must tell you something from my heart,” she said.
He took her hand in his. “I will listen.”
She smiled. “What you said about that day was true, you crushed my heart. And every day that followed, I dreamed of a prince who would come and save me from all of this,” she said, looking around her. “And over the last few days, I began to realize something.”
He smiled that smile that warmed her very heart.
“I am aware,” she whispered, “that when I was in Weymouth waiting for my prince to disembark from one of those ships and take me away, that I had missed his arrival. For he had already arrived, and I was too blind to see that he had been right there in front of me the entire time.” She looked up at him and smiled. “James, I do love you and want nothing more than to be your wife.”
A moment later his hands were around her waist, and he leaned his head down and pressed his lips to hers. It was even more magical than described in the books she had read, the feeling of love passing between them stronger than words could ever do justice. They kissed in the garden, near the very same spot he had once crushed her dreams. But that was when she was a child; now she was a woman—a woman who now understood what love truly meant.
When the kiss broke, he did something that she had not expected, at least not exactly. He picked her up in his arms and spun her around, making her dizzy in the process.
She slapped his arm even as she laughed. “What was that all about?” she asked.
“I wanted to sweep you off your feet,” he replied with a smile.
Her heart melted right there on the spot. He truly had come to understand her, and a feeling of joy overcame her as a new thought entered her mind. She had once thought dreams ended here in this garden, but the opposite was true.
It was where they started.
***
Their engagement party was being held in Buckthorn House, which would soon be the home which Sarah would share with the man she loved. Sarah looked around the room, a smile on her face as she observed her guests mingling and appearing to be enjoying themselves. There were many people she knew and even more she had only been introduced to this night—all friends or acquaintances of James and the Dowager Duchess. All had been courteous to her, and whether they spoke behind their fans, in shadowy corners, she did not know, nor did she care. This celebration was for her and the man she loved; what others thought mattered not.
Much to Sarah’s relief, the Dowager Duchess would be returning to live with her sister in London and not staying on at the estate once they were wed.
“A newly married couple must have the house to themselves,” she had counseled. “My own mother-in-law, God rest her soul, would not allow Lord Foxworth and me even a moment’s peace. However, I will be nothing like that old crone.” She said the last in a near whisper and added a disdainful sniff as way of punctuating her words.
Sarah’s mother walked over to speak with a woman Sarah had known since she was child. Mrs. Abrams was a tall, thin woman with an easy smile and a laugh that belied her size. She was to bake the cake for the wedding, much to the Dowager Duchess’s astonishment. However, she said nothing, which had surprised James, for later he mentioned as much.
“My mother has stated on more than one occasion that Brambly Bakers would make my wedding cake.” Apparently, anyone who was anyone had their cakes baked by the famous baker, but the Dowager Duchess brooked no argument, which was a great relief to everyone involved.
Then her eyes fell to her father, who was busy talking in a circle of men, discussing business or conquests, the only two things that men knew how to do decently well. Expect for one man who stood in that group. He was different. He was not a beast, and though he would need some correction in certain areas, he was actually just fine the way he was.
James looked up as if sensing her looking at him and his face broke out into a smile. A moment later he hurried over to her side. As they stood together, he cast a glance over the crowd. “I believe it is going well. Would you agree?”
She looked around the room one more time and then back at him. “It truly is spectacular,” she said with a smile. “Thank you.”
“Wait until our wedding,” he said and then leaned in to add in a whisper, “and then our honeymoon. I believe you are going to love it.”
“You have decided already?” she asked as she brought a hand to her hip, unable to believe he would continue to make decisions without her.
He gave her a curt nod. “I have,” he stated firmly. “It is a man’s decision, and you will love it.” His smile was mischievous and he gave her a wink, a wink that two months earlier brought about anger but now made her feel lightheaded, much like his smile.
“Very well, then,” she said as she jutted out her chin. “Though I hope it will be somewhere I will enjoy.”
“It involves a bottle of brandy and the top of your hand,” he said, taking her hand in his and placing a kiss on her knuckles.
“James Foxworth, out of all the things you could say!” she whispered harshly and then let out a small laugh.
Her mother came hurrying over, and James bowed to her and then walked away. Sarah’s heart was filled with such love for him she would never need to drink spirits to be with him, that was one thing for certain.