CHAPTER SEVEN
“Hello, Dubois.”
“Mr. Swift. Hello.”
“Must I call you Dubois?” Nicholas asked. “Or may we dispense with the charade that you’re French?”
Dubois’s accent vanished in an instant. “You may call me Dudley if you prefer.”
“I’d rather deal with an Englishman, and I don’t trust you nearly as much when you claim to be from Paris.”
“You should never trust me—whether I seem to be English or French.”
“I’m sure that’s the truest comment you’ve ever uttered.”
Nicholas seated himself at the table and studied the curiosities in the tent. Phillip Dudley, who pretended to be Philippe Dubois, was a fascinating character. What would it be like to be him? To travel constantly, while dispensing wisdom to the naïve and superstitious? It probably wasn’t a bad life. He always appeared to be content.
“I haven’t seen you in ages,” Dubois said. “How long has it been?”
“I can’t remember. Two years? Three?”
“How are you?”
“I’ve been worse. Where is your sister?” Nicholas inquired. “Has she finally had enough of you and left you behind?”
“She’s in Scotland and acting all respectable.”
“How dreadfully…respectable.”
Dubois snorted. “You’ve stated my opinion exactly.”
Dubois had a pretty sister named Clarinda who mixed his medicines and engaged in other behaviors that Nicholas didn’t fully understand. He’d once considered seducing her, but two things had prevented him. She was too shrewd to fall for it. And Dubois was ferociously protective.
Nicholas had hardly glanced at her before Dubois had told him to knock it off or he’d lose some teeth.
“If she’s gone, how can a man buy a tonic?” Nicholas asked. “Isn’t she your apothecary?”
“She taught me her recipes. Are you hankering for a remedy?”
“No!” Nicholas shook his head. “I drank half of one last night. It was a love potion.”
Dubois raised a brow. “The one I gave to Miss Henley?”
“Yes. I don’t suppose you’d divulge what was in it?”
“Why? Is it having an effect?”
“No. I’m just confused about some odd issues.”
“What issues?”
Dubois gazed at him as if he were a priest awaiting a juicy confession, and Nicholas snorted with disgust. “I’m not here to pour my heart out.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Mildred Farnsworth visits you occasionally.”
“Yes, she does.”
“She stopped by yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“If I slipped you a few coins, would you tell me what she wanted to know?”
“No.”
“You won’t? Really?” Nicholas was surprised. Dubois was a confidence artist, and he was as penniless as Nicholas. “I was positive I could bribe you.”
“I can be bribed, but not about her.”
“All right. Read my palm. Or maybe I’ll have you use the cards.”
“Cards it is.”
Dubois went to a trunk and pulled out the ancient tarot deck. He returned and placed them face down.
“Lay your hand on them,” Dubois instructed, and Nicholas complied. “Close your eyes and ask your question.”
“Out loud or to myself?”
“To yourself.”
Nicholas pondered forever. He’d learned enough about the occult to grasp that you had to pose the precise query you needed to have answered. If you worded it wrong, you would get a reply that made no sense.
He opened his eyes and moved his hand.
“Shuffle them,” Dubois advised, “then pick out three that call to you.”
Nicholas complied again, and he gave them to Dubois.
Dubois thoroughly assessed them, then he smirked. “No, yes, and no.”
“Don’t be a smart ass,” Nicholas groused. “What do you see?”
“You’re searching for someone. No…for two people. You’ll find them.”
“When?”
Dubois traced a finger over the card. “It won’t be long now.”
Nicholas was as gullible as a maiden who was anxious to hear that a certain boy was sweet on her. At Dubois’s response, he suffered a rush of excitement, but he tamped it down.
This was all fun and games. It didn’t mean anything. Did it?
“I asked the same question last time,” Nicholas said, “and you supplied the same answer. I’m hunting for two people, and you claim I’ll cross paths with them before too long, but they never arrive.”
“Well, in the spirit world, the term long is relative. It could be today. It could be tomorrow. It could be next year—or even ten years.”
“Spoken like the charlatan you are,” Nicholas scoffed.
“If you think I’m a charlatan, why visit me and seek my guidance?”
“I guess I’m desperate.” Nicholas sighed. “My birthday is Saturday.”
Dubois studied him curiously. “Is it?”
“Yes. Will it be happy?” It was maudlin to wonder, but he couldn’t help it. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had a happy birthday. I’m turning thirty. It would be nice to finally have a pleasant memory of the date.”
“Pick another card.”
Nicholas scrutinized the deck, then he selected one and tossed it to Dubois.
“The day itself will be happy,” Dubois said, “but there will be sadness and drama afterward.”
“What sort of sadness and drama?”
Dubois shrugged. “Hard to predict, but it won’t be good. You’ll lose what you didn’t realize you were craving.”
“I hate it when you spew riddles.”
“Not every issue is clear to me.”
“Give me a hint. What have I been craving without my being aware?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“You’re correct. I wouldn’t.”
Dubois went to a trunk again, and he withdrew a small bottle.
“What’s that?” Nicholas asked.
“Just what you suppose: a love potion. It might counter some of what’s winging in your direction. You drank half of one. Perhaps you should drink a whole bottle.”
Nicholas was feeling bewitched, but he doubted magic was a solution to calm his nerves. “Not on your life. I need another of your tonics like I need a hole in the head.”
“After you lose her—”
“Who is her?”
“You know who it is.”
The most uncanny thing happened. Dubois stared at Nicholas, and an image of Sarah burst into his mind, almost as if Dubois had planted it there. At times, the man seemed like a complete fraud, yet other times—like now—he seemed positively eerie.
Goosebumps popped out on Nicholas’s arms, and he shivered as if the temperature in the tent had dropped twenty degrees.
“Once she’s gone,” Dubois said, “if you want my assistance in winning her back, come to me. I have this potion and others. Or I can cast a spell to bring her back and make her stay.”
“I’m barely acquainted with the young lady,” Nicholas insisted.
“Aren’t you? It looks to me as if you’re practically approaching the altar.”
To a confirmed bachelor such as himself, it was a terrifying comment. He shivered again.
“I pity the poor girl who ever ends up married to me,” he muttered.
He threw some coins on the table and left. As he marched down the street to Mildred’s home, he grumbled all the way about what a waste of funds it had been.
* * * *
Mildred was loafing in the front parlor when a carriage stopped outside. She was fairly sure of who it would be, and she sighed with aggravation.
She was sipping a cup of tea, and Sarah was in her room finishing the latest letters to her sisters. Nicholas had walked to his boarding house to retrieve some items he’d forgotten there. She’d been out when he’d arrived so she’d missed him. But he’d return soon.
She waited impatiently for her visitor to knock, and she let the housemaid answer. Shortly, Clayton huffed in, and to her disgust Desdemona Henley was with him. Mildred couldn’t abide either of them and would not allow them to darken her day.
“Aunt Mildred!” Clayton gushed. “Have I surprised you?”
“No. What are you doing here, Clayton?” She didn’t need to inquire. He had no life of his own, and he liked to poke his nose into her business. And of course, he’d be anxious to guarantee she wasn’t spending too much of his money.
“My party is over,” he said, “and I was about to head to London. Then I recalled you were all alone in Bath. Why shouldn’t I join you?”
“Why indeed?”
“You remember Lady Middlebury, don’t you?”
Mildred didn’t stand or display any civility. “Yes, I definitely remember Lady Middlebury.”
“Miss Farnsworth.” Lady Middlebury smiled a cold, fake smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Pardon me if I don’t get up,” Mildred said, “but my rheumatism is bothering me.”
“That’s quite all right,” Clayton chirped, although Lady Middlebury was thoroughly insulted and understood she was being slighted.
“Sit, sit.” Clayton gestured to a chair for Lady Middlebury, extending the courtesy Mildred hadn’t offered. She plopped down, and Clayton sat in the one next to her.
“What brings you by?” Mildred asked her nephew.
“I hate to have you here by yourself. I thought you might enjoy some company.”
“It’s big of you to worry about me.”
“Saturday is a rather…well…nostalgic day for you, and we should be together for it.”
Mildred shot him a glare. She assumed he wouldn’t mention her scandal in front of Lady Middlebury, but with Clayton and his drinking she could never be certain of what he might do.
She didn’t care if he shouted it to the whole world, but she wasn’t keen on having a shrew like Desdemona Henley learn of it. She oozed vanity, and she was the type who loved to feel superior. Mildred was determined that she and Lady Middlebury have no interaction at all.
“I can’t guess why you’d deem Saturday to be so important,” she seethed.
Her steady glower prevented him from responding as he’d like. His cheeks flushed, and he regrouped. “Anyway, Bath is so charming in the summer. We decided we’d take in the sights and perhaps sample a bit of the water.”
“I find it ghastly myself,” Mildred said. “I never touch the stuff.”
“Lady Middlebury has a friend who cured herself with it.”
“From what ailment?”
Mildred and Clayton spun to Lady Middlebury, and she claimed, “The woman had a nervous affliction. She tarried here for the summer and returned to town quite recovered.”
“How nice for her,” Mildred blandly stated. “Where are you staying?”
“Ah…ah…” Clayton stammered, “we figured we’d stay with you.”
“With me?”
“Yes.”
At his gall, she could barely keep from rolling her eyes. “My humble rented house is much too modest of an abode for such a grand personage as Lady Middlebury. I’m sure she wouldn’t wish to lower herself.”
Mildred’s tone was sarcastic, but Clayton didn’t notice. “We’ll be fine, Aunt Mildred.”
Lady Middlebury snottily added, “I can suffer through with whatever meager hospitality you choose to supply.”
“It’s kind of you to offer,” Mildred said, “but I don’t have room for you.”
Clayton looked pole-axed. “Of course you have room.”
“No, sorry. I already have two guests, and I just received a letter from Winston that he’s joining me too. I’m filled to the brim. You’d have to sleep on the floor in the vestibule.”
“But…but…I’m family,” Clayton whined.
“I realize you are, Clayton. You never cease to remind me.”
“You should kick out your guests so you can accommodate us. Especially Lady Middlebury. I’m aghast that you won’t oblige her.”
“I can’t help you, Clayton.”
“At this late date, I doubt we can find other lodging.”
Mildred shrugged. “It’s why I lease so far in advance.”
“Where would you suggest we go?”
“I have no idea.”
Lady Middlebury fumed, “I told you it was pointless, Clayton.”
She stood, and he stood too. He was such a ridiculous fellow, and the dissolute pair was exhausting.
They were both gamblers and spendthrifts. She’d bet ten pounds they didn’t have any money between them, and they’d been hoping to reside with Mildred for free so she could have the honor of feeding and sheltering them at her own expense.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Sarah appeared.
“Mildred, I saw a carriage. Has Mr. Winthrop arrived?” She asked her question before she was fully in the parlor. She pulled up short and muttered, “Oh.”
Mildred smiled at her and winked. “My nephew and your cousin are visiting Bath for a few days, but they were just leaving.”
“Hello, Sarah.” Lady Middlebury bristled with dislike. “Evidently, you’ve managed to keep your job. It’s marvelous that Miss Farnsworth has been so patient with you.”
“She’s not working for me any longer,” Mildred lied. “She’s been like a daughter to me, and I’m thinking of adopting her.”
“You’re not serious, Aunt Mildred.” Clayton was apoplectic. “You can’t adopt an adult. It’s simply not done.”
“I have my lawyer researching it,” she blithely claimed. “Shouldn’t you be on your way? Rooms in this little hamlet will be vanishing fast.”
“I doubt we’ll remain.” Clayton hurled a glare filled with daggers at Sarah as if she was personally responsible for him not having a bed to sleep in. “If I can’t tarry with my favorite aunt, why bother? We’ll probably head on to London.”
Lady Middlebury sauntered out, and she passed so close to Sarah that their skirts brushed together.
“It was lovely to see you again, Cousin,” Lady Middlebury simpered.
“It’s always a pleasure,” Sarah replied.
“Enjoy your time with Miss Farnsworth. You seem to be ingratiating yourself with no problem.”
“I merely know how to be friendly,” Sarah said.
“It’s a gift, I’m sure,” Lady Middlebury snidely retorted.
The door opened behind them, and Nicholas entered the house. Clayton and Lady Middlebury turned to him.
“Swift!” Clayton greeted him jovially.
“Hello, Farnsworth.” He nodded to Lady Middlebury. “Countess. What brings you to Bath? Weren’t you off to London after the birthday party ended?”
Clayton answered. “We were expecting to stay with my aunt, but she’s full up with guests. Why are you here?”
“I am one of those guests.”
“You?” Clayton frowned. “Why would you be?”
“I was invited.”
Clayton leveled a furious glower at Mildred that she serenely ignored, then he whipped to Lady Middlebury. “Let’s go. It’s obvious we’re not welcome.”
Lady Middlebury studied Sarah in an unnerving manner. Then she smiled at Nicholas with what could only be a conspiratorial smile.
She brazenly laid a hand on his chest. “Have fun with my cousin. I’ll see you in London in two weeks.”
“Yes, you will,” Nicholas responded.
“I can’t wait to hear all about your sojourn in Bath. I’m certain I’ll be vastly amused.”
By then, the despicable duo had spewed enough venom, and they strolled out.
Mildred rippled with disgust. Clearly, the Countess and Nicholas were much more intimately acquainted than she’d understood. Lady Middlebury was aware of his fascination with Sarah so she’d try to wreck it. Hopefully, she and Clayton would proceed on to town. Mildred would hate to have them loiter and spoil her holiday.
“Hello, Nicholas,” she said. “I’m delighted you’ve arrived.”
“Hello, Miss Farnsworth.”
“Mildred, remember?”
“Yes, I remember. What did they want?”
“I’m positive they stopped simply to annoy me as much as possible.”
Sarah chimed in with, “I’m sorry to mention it, but I don’t like my cousin or your nephew.”
“In that case,” Mildred told her, “you have excellent judgment. I can’t stand them either.”
“And why would you tell your nephew that you were adopting me? You had to know it would enrage him.”
“I can’t abide his pomposity.”
“Are you about to be adopted?” Nicholas asked Sarah.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed.
“I was jesting,” Mildred said, “in a way that would make him livid.”
Nicholas took Sarah’s arm and escorted her into the room. They sat in the chairs Clayton and Lady Middlebury had vacated.
“How did you meet my nephew?” Mildred asked him.
“Gambling. He and I have bad habits.”
“Are you more in control of it than he is?”
“I never bet what I can’t afford to lose.”
“I’m glad. What about that wretched Lady Middlebury? She acts as if she has a lock on your affection.”
He peeked at Sarah, and his cheeks flushed. “I met her at a gambling party too. She thinks we’re friends.”
“Are you?” Mildred inquired.
“Barely. She’s a tad too reckless for me.”
“Her husband is never with her,” Mildred said, “so I assume their marriage is unhappy.”
“I believe it might be,” he carefully admitted.
“She must have affairs. Has she tempted you?”
“I’m not prone to dalliances with married women,” which didn’t really answer her question.
She snorted. “You have some standards.”
Sarah grinned like an imp. ”Was Desdemona swimming naked with you that day at the lake?”
His flush deepened. “A gentleman would never tell.”
“You’re not a gentleman though,” Mildred caustically stated.
“No.”
“So have you seen her naked?”
He chuckled. “Maybe.”
“You poor boy. I’m surprised you weren’t blinded by the sight.”
“So am I.”
“She definitely wants something from you,” Mildred said. “Might I suggest you be cautious around her?”
“I’m always cautious.”
“Good move. Now then, what are your ideas for the rest of the week? I expect you two to dine together and take carriage rides in the country and stroll in the moonlight.”
“That’s my plan exactly,” Sarah said.
“The fair is continuing again tonight,” Mildred reminded them. “There’s dancing later. You should go.”
“We already decided we would,” Nicholas replied.
“I have an old friend coming to visit. Mr. Winthrop. We’ll have supper with him about seven, then you can head off for the evening.”
Sarah smiled at her. “You’re too kind to me, Mildred.”
Nicholas added, “You’re too kind to both of us.”
“It makes me happy to be kind.” She stood to leave. “My nephew exhausted me. I should lie down before Winston arrives. The two of you can have the afternoon to yourselves. Sarah, why don’t you show Nicholas where your bedchamber is located?”
“Mildred!”
“I didn’t say you should have him join you in it. You should simply point it out to him.”
“Why?”
“He’s a libertine. It will drive him crazy, having to wonder where it is. Put him out of his misery.”
Nicholas shot Mildred a look that had her recalling her glory days with Robert Stone. He and Robert were so similar, and Mildred had known Robert so well she could practically predict what Nicholas would be thinking.
He’d be plotting over how far he should take his flirtation with Sarah. He’d be curious about how amenable she’d be, what she’d allow. At night, he’d toss and turn in his bed, being unnerved at having her so close but not being able to get any closer.
He stared at Sarah as a stallion stared at a mare, and she and Sarah needed to have a long talk about many adult matters. Mildred was thrilled to encourage a romance, but she wouldn’t permit a scandal.
“I’ll see you at supper,” she said.
* * * *
Nicholas was sitting on a blanket with Sarah by his side. They were braced against an oak tree, a pretty river flowing in front of them. Their arms and thighs were pressed tight, and he was riveted by how delicious she smelled. She used a perfume that was too tantalizing for words.
After Mildred had gone up to nap, Sarah had hastily arranged a picnic, and he couldn’t believe he’d agreed. He wasn’t the sort to attend a picnic. When he had free time, he spent it in a tavern or gambling club where he could rustle up a game of cards.
Mildred’s cook had packed a basket for them, and they’d rented a gig and driven out to the country. It was a sunny summer day, a few clouds drifting by.
He was stunned by how compatible they were, how ordinary the event seemed, and he kept trying to figure out if it was terribly risqué. But then he’d recollect that she was twenty-four and hardly a green girl, and she didn’t require a chaperone. She was levelheaded, and she knew right from wrong.
It would never occur to her that they could engage in illicit activity out of doors and in the middle of the afternoon, and he wouldn’t suggest it.
“I wrote to my sisters about you,” she said.
“The news alarms me.”
“They’re harmless.”
“I’m acquainted with Catherine, remember? She’s not harmless.”
“I want them to meet you.”
“You shouldn’t want it.”
He’d pursued some awful nonsense in London with Libby Markham. Catherine Henley had witnessed enough of his antics to realize he should never come within a hundred miles of her sister.
“I’ve invited them to Bath,” Sarah said, “but I doubt they can get away. I miss them.”
“Have you heard back from either one?”
“No. I have to correspond through my employment agency, then the proprietor sends on any letter. It’s a bit involved so it takes an eternity to receive a reply.”
“Did you tell Catherine my name?”
“No.”
“Good.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “She doesn’t have a very high opinion of me. She probably wouldn’t like us to be cordial.”
“Why not? What did you do to her?”
“To her? Nothing.”
“Your response implies you were horrid to someone else.” She shook a scolding finger at him. “Spill all, you dastardly knave. You must keep no secrets from me.”
“I have to keep some of them. If I told you what I’m really like, you’d never speak to me again.”
“I can’t think of any misdeed you could commit that I would deem fatal.”
He beamed with contentment. “You’re sweet, Sarah. I’m glad I came to Bath.”
He peered out at the river, determined to avoid her probing gaze. He was struggling to ascertain his purpose, why he’d tarried, why he was—apparently—growing besotted.
He couldn’t bear to ever leave her. It seemed as if a remarkable bond was supposed to develop, and he wouldn’t be allowed to ever separate himself from her. What if he had to tarry forever?
When a voice in his head claimed that it wouldn’t be such a bad conclusion, he nearly fell over in a dead faint.
She nudged him with her elbow. “Why doesn’t Catherine like you?”
“She had a friend in London, and I flirted with her when I shouldn’t have. She was very young and eager to wed me. I left town to escape her matrimonial scheming.”
“Was she counting on you?”
“Well, she might have been counting on me, but I informed her on a hundred different occasions that she shouldn’t. She never listened to me though, and I have no intention of ever being ensnared by a silly tart.”
“So my sister believes you are a cad and a bounder?”
“Yes.”
“Would she have been expecting you to marry this tart?”
“No, I’m quite sure she was ecstatic when I fled.”
“Is there a string of crushed maidens around the country because of you? Are there broken hearts everywhere you’ve been?”
He laughed at the notion. “Trust me, no one is pining away. After a female spends a bit of time with me, she’s celebrating when I walk out the door.”
“I wouldn’t celebrate.”
“You don’t know me very well. Just wait until we’re better acquainted.”
She snuggled herself to him, and he draped an arm over her shoulder. They nestled together, the breeze swishing in the trees, the water bubbling in the stream. It was a delectable episode, and he was trying to catalogue every detail so he’d never forget.
Why wasn’t he in town and winning a pile of money? His fixation was ludicrous, and when he declined to ruin her in the end, the whole charade would wind up costing him the twenty pounds he’d owe to Lady Middlebury.
Perhaps Dubois’s potion had driven him mad.
“Have you ever gone on a picnic before?” she asked him.
“No.”
“I was surprised when you agreed to accompany me. You don’t seem the picnicking type.”
“What type do I seem?”
“You’re dashing and dynamic. You’re the sort to dawdle in ballrooms that are filled with rich, beautiful women so you can take advantage of them.”
“You could be right.”
“Will you wed someday?”
“I doubt it. I’m too set in my ways, and I’d have to find an heiress with a fortune. Those kinds of debutantes normally reach a tad higher when they’re searching for a husband.”
“Will you simply gamble and drink forever? Don’t you get tired of your dissolution and vice?”
“Not really. I’ve never carried on in any other fashion.”
“Tell me about your mother, about your past.”
“It’s not that interesting.”
“I beg to differ. I view you as being infinitely fascinating.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I can’t help it, and it’s all your fault. You have completely bewitched me. I can’t remember what my life was like before we met.”
“Should I remind you?” he asked. “You grew up wealthy and spoiled, then your world collapsed, and you wound up working for a living.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Have your jobs been horrid?”
“Not horrid. Some have been boring and some difficult. My spot with Mildred is the best by far, but it will only last a year.”
“Why a year?”
“She likes to spread out her largesse to various girls.”
“Even if she adopts you?” he facetiously retorted. “Will you still have to go?”
“Yes, even then.” She laughed. “I thought Clayton Farnsworth would have an apoplexy when she told him that.”
“He’s so covetous of her money.”
“Yes, he is, and it makes her miserable. He tries to mother her, but she’s not a female who needs a nanny.”
“I like her,” he said.
“I like her too, and you haven’t answered my question. It’s occurred to me that you have a curious knack for turning any conversation away from yourself and onto me. Why is that?”
“I’d much rather talk about you.”
“I wouldn’t. What was your mother’s name?”
“Peggy—but she wasn’t my mother.”
“Who was she?”
He was stunned by the admission and decided his fondness for her was the cause. He couldn’t resist giving her whatever she requested, but he never mentioned his childhood. What was the point?
He didn’t want sympathy, and he couldn’t abide pitying glances or whispers about ancestry. He was living proof that a fellow couldn’t rise from the place where he’d started.
“Peggy was a housemaid in a grand house, and she left with me.”
Sarah bolted up and frowned. “You were kidnapped?”
“No, I was sent away as a baby, and she raised me. At least I think that’s what happened. She was a heavy drinker, and when she was foxed she would tell stories. I was never sure which were true and which weren’t.”
But he’d gathered plenty of information over the years. He was positive he’d learned where he came from and who had paid for his support and schooling.
Considering his parentage, he was lucky he hadn’t simply been drowned in the Thames. Peggy had occasionally claimed that had been an option, but it hadn’t been pursued. She’d been hired instead—and well compensated to be silent about it.
“Why were you sent away?” she asked like the naïve young lady she was. “Do you know?”
“In a very lofty family, a natural-born son is a scandal that must be hidden at all costs.”
“Ah…now I understand.”
“I was the dirty little secret that couldn’t be acknowledged.”
“That’s the saddest tale I’ve ever heard. People are such idiots.”
“I agree.”
“No wonder you don’t talk about yourself.”
She gazed into his eyes, and he saw pity there—the sort he usually hated—but it wasn’t condescending or judgmental. She seemed genuinely sorry for him and incensed on his behalf, and her fury made him happy. Maybe he wasn’t quite the wretch he pictured himself to be.
She rested a palm on his cheek. “Don’t let it matter. You’ve grown to be a fine man. Please try to move on from those dark days.”
He might have argued about his being a fine man, but he didn’t. He liked to wallow in her esteem. “I don’t ponder it much. It only bothers me when someone pressures me to discuss it.”
“Meaning me?”
“Yes, meaning you, you pest.”
“Have you discovered the identity of your relatives? Have you any idea as to the name of your mother or father?”
“No,” he lied because of course he’d unraveled it all. “Peggy received a pile of money to take care of me and to keep her mouth shut. On most facts, her lips were sealed, and I never pried them open.”
“Aren’t you dying to learn some details about your parents?”
“It’s why I visit clairvoyants like that charlatan, Dubois.”
“You and Mildred and your mystics,” she said. “I hope you both find the answers you’re seeking.”
“Dubois swears I’ll ultimately have mine.” He grinned. “Should I believe him?”
“Absolutely not.”
“That’s my opinion exactly.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her, and it was the first he’d bestowed all afternoon. He’d been afraid to start in because he might not be able to stop. He simply felt better in her presence, and he couldn’t imagine how he would ever part from her. Especially not in the next week or two.
Perhaps if he spent the whole summer with her, he’d eventually have his fill, but he never stayed with any female for long. He always expected them to be interesting, and he never stuck around after he realized they weren’t. But with Sarah, he might never arrive at a spot where he’d decide she was not interesting. What if that moment never occurred? Then where would he be?
He snuggled her to his chest, and they dawdled in the silence. He sensed she was smiling. He was smiling too.
“You haven’t told me which bedchamber is yours,” he said. “Mildred insisted you should, and she was correct that I’ve been fretting over it.”
“I’m not telling you.”
“I’ll bribe the housemaid, then she’ll spread gossip that you’re loose.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“It’s the maid’s room behind the kitchen.”
“Not a bedchamber upstairs?”
“No. There are roses blooming outside the window, and when I initially toured the house I could smell them, and I was charmed. It’s very small so Mildred thought I was silly, but I picked it anyway.”
“The room behind the kitchen, huh?”
“Yes, and don’t you dare ever show up there.”
“I won’t.”
It was likely a lie too. He was good at lying. He’d done it so long and so often that he’d forgotten how to be truthful.
They were quiet again, and after a bit she said, “We should probably head home. I want to meet Mildred’s friend, Mr. Winthrop, and if we continue to tarry she’ll assume we’ve been misbehaving.”
“If we had been, I’m not certain she’d care.”
She sighed and sat up, and she glanced at him over her shoulder. With the blue sky above them, and the green grass surrounding her, she was highlighted in vivid, brilliant colors. She looked beautiful and exotic and much too remarkable for the likes of him.
You could have her for your own, a voice whispered, but the notion was impossible, and he shook it away.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked.
“You’re the most gorgeous woman,” he blurted out like an ass.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Swift.”
“Will it? Aren’t you the girl who doesn’t like a man to flirt?”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Believe me, it is dangerous, but it’s time for me to live a little.”
“With me?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll see what I do and what I don’t.”
“I have a feeling—whatever you choose—it will be grand.”
“Yes, I have a feeling it will be too.” She stood and began putting their belongings in the picnic basket. He stood too and folded the blanket.
“Will you take me dancing tonight, Nicholas Swift?” she inquired.
“There’s nothing I would like more.”
“Are we courting?”
“We’re not courting,” he said.
“Then what are we doing?”
“I have no idea.”
“When you figure it out, please let me know.”