“They are,” Sarah agreed.
“And you, Miss. Hammy? I believe you were Miss Sarah’s governess? Are you responsible for her voracious love of learning?”
“I would like to claim so,” Hammy said ruefully, “but in truth, it occurred in spite of me rather than because of me. I taught only the basic education and accomplishments thought to be necessary in a young lady of quality. And from the age of eleven, I’m afraid Sarah despised those things.”
“I was, alas, selfish and opinionated,” Sarah admitted. “And wild to a fault. I led poor Hammy in a terrible dance for the next five years.”
“Oh, it was not as bad as that,” Hammy insisted. “Although it must be said, you did worry your dear parents.”
Lady Whitmore’s perceptive gaze flickered from one to the other, although she kept her interested smile throughout. “Then what on earth led you to Whitmore? A positive hotbed of learning and accomplishments?”
“I grew up,” Sarah said lightly and sipped her sherry.
“At the ripe old age of, what?” Lady Whitmore wondered. “Are you even nineteen years old yet?”
“Almost,” Sarah admitted.
“Then you were just seventeen when you came to us, were you not? An age when most young ladies of your class are enjoying their first London Season and trying to catch a husband.”
Sarah couldn’t quite prevent the curl of her lip or the echo of the old hurt. “My parents did not feel I would compete well on the marriage mart. They sent me abroad with my aunt and uncle in the hope the experience would give me a little…polish.”
“Did it?” Lady Whitmore asked innocently.
Sarah laughed. “In all honesty, no. But it did open my eyes to many things, mainly my own ignorance. I realized there was more to the world than climbing trees and doing exactly what I wished. I learned what I liked to do and what I was good at—singing. And I realized I needed to broaden my mind as well as my accomplishments. Somewhere along the way, I heard of Whitmore, and when we came home, I asked Hammy to investigate for me. I am here with my parents’ permission, although I suspect they tell their friends I am still abroad.”
“Interesting,” Lady Whitmore murmured.
Saunders, the dignified butler, opened the doors once more. “Dinner is served, Your Grace.”
Again, Sarah had to swallow back her curiosity as they rose and accompanied Lady Whitmore to a dining room that was not the huge banqueting hall Sarah expected, but a pleasant, comfortable room with another charming view of the sea under the darkening sky.
“I prefer to dine here with my guests,” Lady Whitmore said. “Since comfort is so much more important than formality.”
The servants withdrew after serving each course, which added further to the sense of intimacy. At first, Lady Whitmore’s conversation was impersonal and pleasantly humorous. Only when the fish course had been cleared away and a game pie set before them, did their hostess ask Sarah, “So, have you found what you wanted to at Whitmore?”
“Yes, I believe I have. And I fear we shall be leaving quite soon.”
“We shall miss you. Might I ask what you intend to do?”
“Go back to the real world,” Sarah said wryly, “and implement my new…knowledge.”
Lady Whitmore raised one intrigued eyebrow. “In what way?”
“In the way I always meant to.”
Lady Whitmore, who ate sparingly, laid down her knife and fork. “I would be honored to know what that is. As you may have guessed, I like to help my guests when I can, even when they leave us. Of course, you are under no obligation to reveal anything, but I have watched you grow and blossom here, and I hope I may be of some use to you. I know who you are, of course, but not the true motivation behind your long stay with us.”
Sarah shifted uncomfortably and reached for her wine. Without lifting the glass, she said, “I believe I am afraid to lose your good opinion. You will think me petty, and perhaps you are right, but I came to prove something to myself and to my family. And to…a certain high-ranking gentleman.”
“Perhaps you should begin at the beginning,” Lady Whitmore said calmly. “Which is that you were born Lady Sarah Merrington, the youngest daughter of the Earl of Drimmen.”
Sarah inclined her head with mock pride. “I shall not bore you with the story of my life! It will bring back too many horrible memories for poor Hammy here. I was something of a wild child. My brothers and sisters were much older, and so I played with local children at Merrin Park—the family estate where I was largely brought up. Most of my friends were village boys and farmers’ sons. One day, when I was about sixteen, my parents noticed me and were appalled. They decided I should learn to be a lady, and poor Hammy tried again to drum some manners and etiquette into me.”
“She could behave very well when she chose,” Hammy put in.
Sarah cast her a quick, apologetic smile. “Well, it made Hammy unhappy when I behaved badly, so I tried not to. Then, before I was even out, my parents arranged a possible—and brilliant—match for me. With the high-ranking gentleman I mentioned before.” She sipped the wine thoughtfully and set down the glass. “I should probably say that I had seen my older sisters make advantageous matches that made them neither happy nor interesting people, so I resolved that if I was to marry the duke, he would have to like me as I am.”
“Which is to say a wild, self-willed but caring child?” Lady Whitmore suggested.
Sarah blinked in surprise at the last epithet, though Hammy said warmly, “Exactly.”
Sarah shrugged. “So, the day he came to Merrin Park, I hid up a tree and watched for his arrival. I threw crab apples at his carriage as it drove through the grounds. The coachman was furious with me and stopped especially to tell me off.”
“Did you throw an apple at him, too?” Lady Whitmore inquired.
“No, I was running short of apples and was saving them for the duke, who eventually stepped down himself. Surprisingly, he seemed more amused than anything else.” Sarah paused, remembering her first sight of Leonard Blackmore, the young Duke of Vexen. The world had tilted with only half-understood excitement, for he was not staid and self-important at all. He was tall and handsome with laughing eyes and a mouth very ready to smile.
“Did you throw the apple at him?” Lady Whitmore asked.
Sarah smiled. “I did. Knocked his hat off, too. But he just picked it up, and the next two apples I threw, he caught in the hat. Then he sent the carriage on and climbed up the tree. For a moment, I thought he’d come to punish the impudent village girl, but he didn’t. I told him who I was, and he laughed and sat on the branch beside me.”
“He sounds…fun,” Lady Whitmore said as Sarah stopped talking to eat.
“He was,” Sarah replied, when she had swallowed. “In fact, we got on so well that I resolved to be on my best behavior for the rest of his visit. I dressed in my finest gown for dinner, even let the maid curl my hair, and then went to my parents and told them I would do it. I would marry the duke.”
She paused again, trying not to feel the hurt and humiliation she had known two years ago. The hard, little shell of anger and vengeance saved her once more. “He had already left Merrin Park. He told my father he could not consider marriage with me because I was a hoyden, that he needed a well-bred and cultured wife fit for the best drawing rooms in Europe.”