A Duke’s Overlooked Spinster (The Courting Season #1)

Chapter 22

“If you are too tired, Sarah, you do not need to attend,” Caroline said gently to Sarah, where she stood beside her on the terrace. It was a warm afternoon, the golden afternoon rays pouring down on the stone paving of the terrace. Around them, members of the household staff moved efficiently, setting out tables and chairs, polishing glassware as they set it out on the trestle-table by the wall.

“I am not too tired,” Sarah said quickly. “I think it would do me good.”

“Good. Grand.”

Caroline smiled at her kindly. Sarah took a deep breath. She had cared for Henry for much of the morning, forgetting that Caroline had planned a Venetian Breakfast. Though the party was called a “breakfast”, it was really a day-long event, beginning mid-morning and lasting through to dinnertime. It was a beautiful day, the sunlight warm and bright; the leaves on the creepers that swathed the wall fluttering in the slight breeze. Sarah looked down at the white-and-blue muslin dress that she wore. It was thin and cool and she focused on whether or not she needed a shawl, ignoring the tumult of questions that raced around her brain.

“I think I will fetch my shawl,” she told Caroline, who nodded.

“It is a little chilly in the breeze, and only likely to be more so later,” she agreed. She herself was wearing a gown in rich orange silk, a soft ocher-colored Venetian silk shawl draped around her.

Sarah hurried indoors to the hallway, glad to remove herself for a moment from the bustle of activity outside. She had decided to attend the breakfast after all, hoping that spending time with the other guests—Caroline and Victoria, she hoped—would distract her from her own worries and confusion.

The fact that Henry had called her “mama” had disturbed her greatly. On the one hand, her heart had kindled with complete joy. She would like nothing better than for a boy like Henry to be her son. But he was not, and he never would be, and she did not wish to pretend, not even for a second, that he could be.

But the duke—does he really feel that way? she asked herself. She told herself that he had disapproved of Henry’s confusion, that he had wanted her to leave the room, but that had seemed far from true. He had thanked her, even though his gaze seemed troubled. And he kissed me, she reminded herself.

He had kissed her, but he had said or done nothing since then. She still had no idea if his mother knew and what she had said about it. Her stomach knotted queasily. The duchess would doubtless also attend the breakfast—maybe it was not wise to go, after all. She lifted her shawl from the hook by the door and walked towards the stairs uncertainly, in half a mind to go up to her room and avoid the event. As she did so, Lady Philipa and Lord Charles appeared on the stairs, Lord and Lady Egerton behind them.

“Ah! Miss Brooke,” Charles greeted her with a warm smile that was disconcertingly like the duke’s. “So glad that you will join us! How does my nephew fare?” he added, his brow creasing in a frown. “Is he any better?”

“He has a fever,” Sarah told him, though she was sure that the duke had informed his family about that. “But when I left the room, he was sleeping peacefully.” “Good. Good,” Lady Egerton said warmly, joining the group at the foot of the stairs. “I am so grateful that you acted so promptly, Sarah,” she added gently. “May I call you Sarah? You may call me Victoria, of course.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, flushing red at the new, unexpected familiarity. “Of course, you may.”

“Good.” Lady Egerton smiled. “I think I can smell tea and pastries. Just what I fancy at this time of day.” Sarah smiled with genuine warmth and followed the group out onto the terrace.

“Sarah! You are back! Grand,” Caroline greeted her. She was still overseeing the details as the servants laid out the glassware and arranged the plates full of delicacies. Sarah smiled at her, understanding that Caroline wanted her to manage the guests while she completed the arrangements.

Sarah turned to Victoria, feeling a little shy. “Did you enjoy your morning stroll?” she asked her, having spotted her in the distance when she was out on her own morning adventure.

“I did. Most refreshing. Especially after a night with little sleep,” she added with a smile, referring to the ball the previous night.

“Yes. Quite so,” Sarah agreed, feeling self-conscious. The memories of the kiss flooded her mind vividly. It had been on the very terrace where the breakfast was taking place.

“So pleased you are joining us,” Caroline greeted her guests warmly, appearing to relieve Sarah of the awkward task. “You can find beverages and light pastries here, and there are more substantial foods on tables under the tree, where the lawn games will take place,” she added, gesturing to the garden and lawns close to the terrace.

“How charming. You do organize everything so well,” Victoria told Caroline warmly.

“Thank you,” Caroline said with a grin.

Sarah followed Victoria and James down to the lawn, where they perused the games set out for the guests. People were arriving on the terrace, the sound of talk and laughter loud behind them. Sarah was glad to get away from the larger crowd. The noise of so many people talking and laughing wore on her frayed nerves and she was tense with the fear of what the duchess would do if she found her at the party.

“Do you play quoits, dear?” Victoria asked her fondly. Sarah blinked, startled out of her thoughts.

“Sometimes,” Sarah replied, then blushed.

“An honest answer,” Victoria said with a smile. “My aim is not particularly good, and I think after a morning indulging in Caroline’s delightful food and drink it will only be worse.”

Sarah chuckled. She genuinely liked the woman, whose kindness and openness set everyone at their ease.

They chatted a little about lawn games, discussing which ones they enjoyed and which they disliked, and then Victoria and her husband drifted onto the terrace to sample the pastries and tea. Sarah stayed on the lawn. The thought of going up to the terrace, where the duke or his mother might be, was uncomfortable. Part of her wished that she had gone back up to her room. She did not belong down in the garden with the guests. Despite Victoria’s friendly, welcoming attitude, that terrible feeling of being an imposter lingered—the product of the duchess’ cruel words mingling with Henry’s mistaking her for the duke’s former wife.

I really am nobody, she reminded herself firmly. A failure, like Papa said.

Her heart sank at the thought. It was painful, like something physical stabbing at her. Sarah took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sudden pain. She went over to the refreshments table, turning her back on the crowded terrace. The sunshine was warm and golden where it poured onto the lawn and she started to relax.

She was hungry and the sight of cold pie and sandwiches drew her to the table, the delicious scent of food making her mouth water. She thanked the footman for a slice of fruit pie and wandered off across the lawn to eat it. Some of the younger guests had drifted onto the lawn where they were playing Battledore and Shuttlecock. Sarah could hear their laughter and she watched them idly, letting their antics take her mind off her concerns. She ate the pie and drifted back to the table to give her plate and cake-fork back to the footman.

As she reached the table, she froze.

The duchess was there.

The woman saw her, her gaze locking on Sarah’s, her eyes full of malice. Nobody was there—even the footman behind the table had drifted off, taking the opportunity to return some of the dirty plates to the kitchen. Sarah rooted to the spot, frozen in fear.

“You,” the duchess hissed. She walked the few paces across to where Sarah stood. She addressed her and kept her voice a low, malicious whisper. “You should not be here. You should not be near my son. You are nothing but a scandalous, low wretch with no reputation. How dare you think you can set your sights at my son? You do not belong in our circle. You will only do him harm. And Henry too.”

Sarah tensed. She had been about to argue, her pride flaring at the suggestion that she was deliberately pursuing the duke. But at the mention of Henry, the words shriveled inside her. She slumped. It was as though the duchess had slapped her.

You are nothing. Your association with the family will hurt Henry.

She winced. She knew it was true. She looked down at the lawn, avoiding the duchess’ eyes.

“Get yourself hence,” the duchess hissed.

Sarah glared at her. She might agree with the woman—she might know in her heart that she could only bring harm to Henry—but she would not be spoken to as though she was a troublesome pest, something to be shooed away.

“I am a guest here, as you are,” she said tightly, straightening her spine. “My cousin invited me here, as she invited you. I will leave when I choose to. If I choose to.” She held the woman’s gaze for a second, and was gratified to see the malicious stare waver just for a second. Then she turned and walked towards the stairs, her spine ramrod-straight. She glided up the stairs and across the terrace, and then into the hallway inside. She leaned against the wall. Her hands were shaking.

“God,” she whispered. “Help me.”

The confrontation with the duchess had sapped the last of her remaining strength.

She could barely stand up, the exhaustion of caring for Henry mingling with the intense fear and dislike that had flooded her in the duchess’ presence. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. She managed to stand up without the need for the wall’s support. She took a step to the stairs.

“Sarah? Sarah, dear?” Caroline’s voice called to her from the door that led to the terrace. Sarah tensed, turning around to face the door.

“Caroline,” she managed to say in a shaky voice. “I feel a little unwell.” She wobbled a little on her feet.

“Sarah?” Caroline frowned, her eyes widening. “Are you sure you do not need something? Should we summon the physician?”

“No. Please,” Sarah murmured. “I am quite well. I think I would like to return to my chamber,” she added quickly.

“If you wish,” Caroline said carefully. “Are you sure you are well, Sarah, dear? You’re very pale.”

“I am quite well, thank you,” Sarah whispered. “I just need to rest.”

She turned to the stairs and walked briskly up to her bedroom.