Lady Whitmore blinked. “That seems a shocking turnaround from the man who climbed a tree to laugh and joke with you.”
Sarah shrugged carelessly. “Apparently, I was amusing enough for outdoor entertainment but not fit for his drawing room.”
Lady Whitmore sat back in her chair, while the servants came in and cleared the game pie away. They brought in desserts and again departed.
“And so, you decided to become what he wanted?” Lady Whitmore guessed. “What your family wanted. A young lady of culture and accomplishment who outshines all others?”
“More or less.”
“Just so that he will marry you?” Lady Whitmore said with a hint of pity.
Sarah laughed. “Oh, dear me, no. So that he will beg me on bended knee to marry him. And fully appreciate the humiliation of rejection.”
Chapter Two
“You have gone to a lot of trouble,” Lady Whitmore observed when she had recovered her breath, “for what you rightly call a petty revenge.”
“It is not just for him,” Sarah admitted. “It’s also for my parents. I want them to see if they like me as they wanted me to be.”
“You think you have grown…above them?” Lady Whitmore asked.
Sarah considered. “No, not above. I am still Sarah underneath all the manners and the learning and accomplishments. But I might not want them to see that immediately.”
Again, she had the impression that her hostess’s steady eyes saw straight through to her soul.
“You are right,” Sarah said abruptly. “It is petty and vengeful.”
“And will do the hurt child a lot of good while exerting no lasting damage on the parents who neglected her and then rejected who she had grown into?”
Sarah’s breath caught. “You are…incisive.”
A smile flickered on Lady Whitmore’s lips. “And the young man? The duke? His punishment is a broken heart. Is that not lasting damage?”
“I considered that,” Sarah said. “But, no, I don’t think so. A man as shallow as he turned out to be has no feelings deep enough to be hurt so very badly. It will hurt his pride and perhaps make him miserable for a week or so.”
“And that is enough for you?”
“It is, now. To be honest, somewhere in this last year, my motives changed. I still want my revenge, but the journey I took is for me. And in the real world, I believe I can find happiness from that.”
Lady Whitmore looked thoughtful, which was at least better than disgusted. “So, you would seek him out at ton parties and captivate him? In public? While becoming the rage of London?”
“That is my plan.”
“Hmm.” Lady Whitmore spooned syllabub into her mouth. “Delicious. One thing more, Lady Sarah. Dukes—particularly young dukes—are not so thick on the ground. Would I be correct in assuming yours is the Duke of Vexen?”
Sarah hesitated, but she already told everything else. She nodded, and Lady Whitmore’s gaze fell to the table.
“I would like to make a suggestion,” she said at last. “In the past, I have helped other young ladies in various difficult situations by inviting certain gentlemen to events here in Whitmore. It is a much more discreet form of matchmaking than the hectic marriage market in London. So no one here will think it odd if I invite his grace to the exhibition of paintings we hold next month. In fact, we might ask him to open it formally. And then you may conduct your revenge in the safety of this sanctuary, without any loss of reputation.”
“Here?” Sarah frowned. “I never thought of that.”
“It means you may leave Whitmore with a clean slate, if you like. And carry on with your life unencumbered by the ill-feelings of the past.”
Sarah mulled that over, then glanced at Hammy, who nodded once. Lady Whitmore’s scheme did have advantages. The grand, public humiliation she had once planned for the duke, no longer seemed so important. But nor could she let the slight go unanswered. He would have to learn.
“Very well,” she said. “Thank you. I will take up your offer. Providing the duke answers your invitation, of course.”
“Of course. I shall set it in motion.”
It was odd, for although Lady Whitmore spoke with her usual calm friendliness, when she raised her wine glass to her lips, her hand seemed to tremble.
***
“You did notice the slight tremor in Lady Whitmore’s hand as she discussed the duke?” Sarah looked Hammy over, always waiting for her delayed reaction to things. Her former governess wore her heart on her sleeve, so her opinion could be counted as honest.
“I did,” Hammy said rather tight-lipped. “Our gracious hostess appeared greatly troubled, if not saddened by your wish for revenge on His Grace.”
“Perhaps she is acquainted with his family? Or maybe she has experienced something similar to my own past, and it hurt her to relive the memory?”
Her companion shook her head. “I sense something deeper than that in her.”
“Oh?” Sarah stopped walking and stared at Hammy. “What would that be?”
“I do not wish to speak out of turn, so I will not explain any further, not until I am sure of myself.”
Sarah frowned, impatient as she had always been. In fact, she stamped her foot but then quickly corrected her bad behavior. “I am sorry.”
A demure smile brightened Hammy’s face. “There is the young woman who has matured this last year.”
Sarah sighed. “Yes, she is inside me, but so is the spoiled, impudent child I have always been.”
Her companion squeezed her hand affectionately. “I am proud of you. I do not believe you would have admitted such a thing six months ago.”
“Perhaps not. Yet, I find myself still wanting to be that spoiled girl.”
“You cannot serve two masters, Sarah.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?”
“Only that you must choose which person you wish to be more. The girl throwing apples, or the lady ready to face the world and win the admiration of her peers.”
Sarah knew what resonated most in her heart. Becoming a graceful member of society. Yet… Temptation beckoned her nearly every minute of every day. If no one expected much from her, then she needn’t expect much from herself. But the duke… She envisioned him, that warm smile, those pleasant eyes, and his broad shoulders—so handsome, so physically appealing.
What would it feel like to bring him to his knees? To experience him falling in love with her, to want her after that embarrassing rejection? She did not hate him, but neither did she appreciate his unfair judgement. Her tender feelings for him had been instantaneous after he climbed the tree and sat beside her. She bit her bottom lip and looked away from Hammy, an undeniable tear in the corner of her eye.
“Sarah?”
She tried to wave her away.
“Do you forget how well I know you?” Hammy asked quietly.
“Of course, not,” she admitted. “That is why I looked away from you. I do not wish you to see me cry.”
“Dearest.” Hammy’s comforting arms came around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “If you could find it within yourself to let go these negative feelings for the duke, we could make arrangements to travel back to London at the end of the week. No one need know the true nature of our stay here.”