The Reluctant Duchess (16 page)

Sara cried out and ran to her good friend Lady Grace Ashworth, the Countess of Blackbourne. It had been ages since they'd seen each other, and it was so good to see a familiar, friendly face. She and Grace hugged tightly.

“I'm so glad you are in town,” Sara said. “But I thought you were staying in Scotland.”

Grace took Sara's hand and they sat side by side. “Michael needed to come to town, and I thought it would be nice to come as well. Besides, I wanted to see you.”

Sara had kept Grace apprised of her whereabouts only because Sara's father thought she was traveling with the Blackbournes. And because Grace was Sara's very best friend.

Grace raised a blond eyebrow. “You're staying with the Duke of Rossmoyne. How did that come about?”

Heat rose in Sara's cheeks. “He's been most accommodating.” She hadn't seen Ross that morning. Pride had kept her away, and a good dose of embarrassment. She didn't want to see the truth of his mother's words in his eyes.

To Sara's surprise, tears rose to her eyes. She quickly tried to wipe them away, but Grace saw them and frowned. “Sara? What is it? What's wrong?”

It all came tumbling out of her. The letters and then Ross's invitation to stay with him.

Throughout the entire story, Grace's frown deepened. “These letters concern me. Are you certain you are safe?”

“I have James, and occasionally, His Grace accompanies me when I need to go somewhere.” Sara didn't tell Grace about visiting the rookery or Mrs. Kettles. There were some things her best friend didn't need to know.

Grace didn't look convinced that Sara was safe with only James, but true to her nature and much to Sara's chagrin, she focused on Ross. “You have feelings for him,” she stated.

Sara nodded miserably, not even questioning how Grace suspected. They were such good friends that Sara wasn't surprised her friend had discovered her secret so quickly. “It cannot be, though.”

“And why not? You would make a lovely duchess.”

“Please, Grace. You need not say that to make me feel better.”

“I'm not saying it to make you feel better. I speak the truth. You are the daughter of a marquess. You've been raised in society. You know the ways of the nobility.”

“I hate society. What duchess hates society?”

Grace sat back and eyed her. “And why do you hate it?”

“Because I'm not good at the games they play. I prefer to sit in the shadows and watch rather than participate. I prefer not to go at all. And all those social calls…” She shivered at the thought.

“You don't have to attend every function you're invited to. In fact, you have more mystique if you don't.”

“This from the countess who prefers to remain in the country.”

“Have you asked him?”

“Of course not. Why would I ask him such a thing when we haven't discussed any sort of commitment? Besides, he's all but told me we don't suit.”

“He said that?” Grace's voice was flat, indicating that she didn't believe Sara.

“He did. And so did his mother. Many times.”

Grace considered her thoughtfully. “I know Lady Rossmoyne, and I don't believe she would say such a thing. She is always kind and polite.”

“She was very kind and polite when she said I was not suited for her son.”

“I don't believe you.”

“What difference does it make?” Sara asked in exasperation. “Anything between Rossmoyne and me is not to be, and I must move on. Once we find who's writing these dreadful letters, I will return to Hadley Springs.”

“And do what? Take care of your father, who is perfectly capable of taking care of himself? Help plan the spring festival year after year?”

What was it with people trying to tell her that she didn't have to watch out for her father? Did no one believe in taking care of family anymore? “You are perfectly happy planning the spring festival year after year.”

“I have a husband and a house to run.”

Sara fell silent. She was weary of defending her father. “None of this makes a bit of difference. His Grace was engaged to Meredith, as you well know.”

Grace raised a brow. Sara hated when Grace looked at her that way. “And?”

“And it's not appropriate.”

Grace appeared thoughtful for a moment. “I would agree that it wouldn't be appropriate if Meredith were, say, your sister. But she was your cousin. You don't have the same parents, even though you were raised by her parents. That makes it quite acceptable.”

Sara had never thought of it in those terms, and she wouldn't allow herself to think about it now. Any sort of relationship with Ross was out of the question, and that was that.

Grace squeezed Sara's hand. “Think about it.” She sat back and studied Sara. “Forgive me for provoking you. I didn't come here to argue.”

“Don't fret. It seems I'm easily provoked lately.”

“Because you are in love.” Grace smiled, but Sara grimaced. Seeing her friend's reaction, Grace quickly changed the subject. “I am hosting a small dinner party and would like you to attend. Bring Rossmoyne if you wish.”

“How big is this dinner party?” Sara asked cautiously.

“Fifty or sixty people. No more. I promise.”

Sara blew out a breath. That was not small. Small to her was ten to fifteen people, and even that was pushing it. But for Grace she would attend, because Grace had always been there for her.

“Only for you,” she said in disgust. “And I will not bring Rossmoyne. That will make people talk. Besides, we're staying away from each other.” Or rather, she was staying away from him, since it hurt far too much to be near him.

“Nonsense. I'm counting on you to bring him to even out the numbers. Besides, it would be a coup to get the Duke of Rossmoyne to attend. All the matchmaking mamas will be aflutter.”

“Grace,” Sara warned, but already Grace's eyes were lighting up with some sort of mischief.

“You should help me plan it.”

“I don't think—”

“You have years of experience planning the spring festival. This will be easy. Oh, please say you will.”

Sara had an inspiration. If she helped Grace plan this dinner party, then she would not be closed up in the house with Rossmoyne just a few rooms away, and all temptation would be erased. Well, not
all
temptation, but the majority of it. “Very well,” she said, though she had no intention of allowing Grace to issue an invitation to Rossmoyne.

Grace put a hand on Sara's arm. “Michael and I will be residing in London for a few weeks. Why don't you come stay with us?”

Sara's first instinct was to say no. She hated the thought of leaving Ross, and she wanted to be involved in the investigation of the letters. But she paused before she spoke. Elizabeth's words had impacted Sara. The truth was that what she and Ross had done on that couch and the previous kisses they'd shared had been wrong. There was no agreement between them. She was not cut out to be his duchess, and he had not made any indication that he wanted her to be his duchess. While she liked the things he had done to her and could be honest enough with herself to admit that she wanted more, she understood that she was treading on dangerous ground.

If it were discovered that she had been compromised or, God forbid, if they continued on and actually consummated anything and she got with child, then things would turn ugly. Ross would demand they wed, because he was that type of person, and she didn't want that. She would rather live the rest of her life knowing they'd shared something special for a short time rather than live the rest of her life knowing he'd been forced to wed her.

“I would love to come stay with you,” she said, probably not as enthusiastically as she should have.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

Sara spun around to find Ross standing in the doorway to her bedchamber, his strong physique filling out the doorframe. He was frowning as he eyed Jenny, folding Sara's gowns and petticoats and unmentionables into a trunk.

“Ross!” Sara nearly shrieked. “What are you doing here?” She'd been told that he had gone to the palace to meet with the queen. Sara would have been paralyzed with fear at the mere thought of meeting with the queen.

He looked at her trunk, then at her. “You're leaving?” His tone was incredulous, and she thought he also sounded hurt, but that couldn't be right.

“You shouldn't be in here,” she said, rushing up to him. She felt like a guilty little girl and there was no reason to feel that way at all. She was an adult. She was free to come and go as she wished. “It's quite improper.”

“Tell me why you're packing.” He braced his feet apart, and she stopped short of physically pushing him out of the door. She wouldn't have been able to move him anyway.

She looked over her shoulder at Jenny, who was busy folding a gown, but Sara knew the maid was avidly listening.

“Jenny, please leave,” Ross commanded.

Jenny put the gown down.

“No. Jenny, continue packing,” Sara said, ignoring Ross's glare. “Ross, to your study.” It was the last place she wanted to be with him, for it seemed she could not control her base urges when they were alone in the study, but she had to get him out of her room.

When they reached the study, he shut the door and stood in front of it, his arms crossed as if he were afraid she would try to escape.

“Ross—”

“You're not leaving.”

“Don't be silly. I can't stay here forever.”

“Where are you going?”

“Lord and Lady Blackbourne are in London. They asked me to stay with them.”

“No.”

She raised a brow. “It's not your choice, Your Grace.”

“It's not safe.”

She hesitated. She'd been thinking only of herself and her convoluted emotions when she'd agreed to stay with the Blackbournes. The real reason she was here hadn't even entered her mind. How foolish she'd been.

“It's not safe for me to stay here, either,” she whispered.

His arms fell to his sides and his shoulders drooped. “Sara. What am I going to do with you?”

Well, that hurt.

He touched her cheek, and she wanted to close her eyes to revel in the sensation.

“I know I've made mistakes with you. I never should have allowed you to stay in my study with me at night. All alone.”

“Even though we both enjoyed it?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Your honesty is refreshing but also frustrating. I'm trying to do what's right here.”

“I can't stay in your home. Not after…” She couldn't put words to what had happened between them the last time they were here alone.

His expression was bleak. “There are not enough apologies in the world to atone for what I did.”

She drew back. “Did I indicate that I wanted your apologies? I was in this room, too, Ross. I didn't say no. I may have even begged you to continue.”

“Sara,” he groaned. “Stop.”

“No. I will not allow you to take all the blame for what we did together.”

“I'm the man, I should have—”

“And I'm the woman. So what?”

He looked at her steadily. “You are amazing.”

She didn't think anyone had ever told her that. It meant far more than if someone had called her beautiful or witty.
Amazing
. She wasn't, of course, but she liked it nonetheless.

“I don't want you to go,” he said softly.

“It's for the best. We can't keep doing this.”

Ross grabbed her shoulders, startling her. “You're not safe out there. The Blackbournes can't keep you safe like I can. Please, Sara. The thought of you unprotected frightens me.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “What if I promise never to touch you again?”

Mercy, but that was exactly the opposite of what she wanted.

“I have James, and Montgomery is investigating the letters.”

“There's more that you're not telling me,” he said, too observant for her peace of mind.

“There's not more. There never was more than this.”

He looked at her shrewdly as if weighing her words and finding the hidden meaning beneath them. “Did my mother say something to you?”

Sara bit her lip. She would not reveal what Elizabeth had said to her. She would not do that to Elizabeth or Ross.

“What did she say, Sara?”

“Nothing that I didn't already know.”

He leaned his head against the closed door. “She's wrong, you know.”

“She's right. Nothing good can come from what we're doing.”

He looked at her through half-closed lids, his lashes concealing his thoughts. She would have given her dowry to know what he was thinking. “Will you ever forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

“There is everything to forgive.”

“Ross, I wanted it as much as you. I could have said no, and I know you would have stopped. I'm as much to blame as you. Next time…The next time I fear it will go farther, and that can't happen.”

“That's not what I meant. But…you want more?” A half smile lit his face, and his amber eyes smoldered in a way that turned her knees to jelly. She wanted to tell him not to look at her that way, but that was giving him ammunition he didn't need.

His gaze raked her body. Her skin tingled and her limbs grew heavy. He saw. He knew what just a look from him did to her. Oh, she'd known it was a bad idea to bring him in here, to be alone with him in any way.

“What do you want my forgiveness for?” she asked in a desperate attempt to turn the situation around. If it continued like this, then they would end up on that settee again, and things would become more complicated than they already were.

“Do you want me?” he asked, his husky voice making her moist between her legs.

“You know I do.”

He pushed away from the door. Good sense prevailed and she backed up. She was retreating farther from the door and her escape route, but there was nothing she could do about it.

“God, Sara, I want you so badly it's all I can think about. My body burns for you.”

“Stop,” she whispered. “This isn't fair to either of us.”

He seemed to shake himself back to reality. His hands fisted at his sides and he looked away, blinking. “I hate this. I hate that I'm not good enough for you.”

She stilled. “What do you mean you're not good enough for me?

His look was tortured. “I hate that you can never forgive me for what I did to Meredith.”

“What did you do to Meredith?” She was more confused than ever.

“I didn't protect her. I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most.”

“You blame yourself?”

“Of course I do. I should have stayed at the ball that night.”

“But she didn't disappear from the ball. She left our house later that night.”

“What if I had stayed?” he asked.

“And what if I had talked to her more? What if I had gone to her room to check on her? I knew she wasn't happy that night, but Meredith could be moody. I thought she was having one of her fits because you had left and she didn't want you to. If I had checked on her after we returned home, maybe she would be alive today, and you and she would be married.” Sara's stomach turned at the thought, and she hated herself for it. She didn't want to think of Meredith and Ross together. She didn't want to be jealous of Meredith, but she was. “You can't live by what-ifs, Ross. My father did that, and it destroyed his marriage.”

“It was my job to protect her.”

“No, it wasn't. Meredith did what she wanted to do. She was always like that. She could coerce anyone into anything. People adored her and she knew it, so she used that against them. I don't want to speak ill of her, but that was the reality. I loved her, but there were times she thought only of herself. She liked to be entertained. She hated to be alone, and she surrounded herself with people who did her bidding.” There. She finally said it. She'd never said anything negative about Meredith before, but it was the reality of who Meredith was.

He leaned against the closed door again as if his legs couldn't hold him up. “How is it you two are such opposites?”

She despised being compared to Meredith, to be pointed out as the boring one, the quiet one, the unattractive one. “I'm unlucky, I guess.”

Ross frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I'm well aware that I'm not Meredith.”

“And that makes you unlucky? You just told me she was spoiled and manipulative.”

“I didn't mean it to sound so harsh. She was also loving and fun and wonderful to me. After my parents died, she eagerly accepted me into her home and never once made me feel unwelcome. We were best friends from that moment on.”

“You didn't sound harsh. You were telling the truth. I saw all of that, and to be honest, there were times I was not pleased with her behavior. We fought that night. The night she disappeared.”

“I know. She told me. She said you didn't want to stay at the ball and that sometimes you were no fun at all.” Sara smiled. “Her words, not mine.”

“She said the same to me.”

Sara tilted her head to the side and peered at him. “You always seemed to be happy around her.”

“How could one not be? She was contagious. Like an infection that burns inside you. I couldn't get enough of her, but there were times I didn't like myself when I was with her. And yet for all of that, I loved her.”

“I know,” she whispered, even though it hurt. She hated being jealous of Meredith. “I loved her, too.”

“What did my mother say to you?” he asked.

Sara sighed. They were back to that. He was like a dog with a bone, and he wasn't going to let it go until she answered him. “She said that we are not suited. And she is right.”

“I disagree.”

“Ross. Please.”

“Why, Sara? Why do you believe that?”

“Look at me.” She swiped her hand down her body. “You said it yourself. I'm the complete opposite of
her
.”

“And that's bad?”

“For you, yes.”

“Again, I disagree.”

She could not believe she was having this conversation with him. Must he force her to point out all of her faults, all the reasons why she was not good enough?

“The point is moot,” she said. “I have my father to take care of.”

“I think you use that as an excuse.”

“Pardon me?” Did he seriously believe that? He didn't know her father, didn't know how depressed he could become or how involved in his astronomy he could get. There were times when he forgot to eat, forgot to come out of the shack he had converted into his research building. If she left him, he would wither away to nothing. She was already feeling guilty for leaving him in the hands of the housekeeper for as long as she had.

“You use your father as an excuse to stay out of society.”

“Society did me no favors when I was in it.” Society had no room for a young girl who tripped over her tongue and couldn't quickly come up with a witty retort.

“Society is stupid.”

She laughed, having told herself that many times to make herself feel better. “Agreed, but it is a necessity for you.”

“True. Why do you believe you are not good enough?”

“You will force me to say it?”

“Yes.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

She sighed. “I hate when you are correct.”

He smiled and she lost another part of her heart to him.

“I don't like society. It makes me nervous to converse with people I don't know. I never know what to say. I much prefer to stay home and read a good book. That is not someone you need by your side.”

“Don't you think I should be the one to decide whom I want by my side?”

“By all means.” She was angry that he'd forced her to admit why she could never be his. “And while you do that, I will be residing with the Blackbournes. You can send updates to your investigation there.”

“I'm not finished with this conversation.”

“Well, I am.”

“I respectfully disagree.”

She sighed in exasperation. “What do you disagree with now?”

“That we don't suit. I think we've proved differently.”

He was referring to what they had done on the settee and the kisses they had shared. The thought made her face heat in shame and need. “There is more to a marriage than that.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Your mind is going in the wrong direction, my lady. Although I like where it is going.”

She didn't think it possible for her face to heat even more. “Can I please leave?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You cannot keep me here against my will.”

“I have no intention of doing any such thing. What I meant was that I think we suit.”

“Don't toy with me,” she whispered, her heart breaking.

“Ah, Sara. I would never toy with you in such a way. You are the only woman I've ever been able to speak openly to. With you, I don't have to be someone I'm not. I don't have to be the Duke of Rossmoyne. I can simply be Gabriel Ferguson. I like that.”

She blinked the sudden tears that built in her eyes. He was giving her hope, and she hated that. Hope was more destructive than anything else because it hurt the worst.

“Your mother thinks I'm not good enough for you.”

His lips thinned. “She said that?”

“No. But I know that is what she meant.”

“So now you can read minds?”

“I can read people. I do a lot of that when I'm sitting alone at balls.”

“Come here, Sara.”

He held out his arms, and as much as she longed to go to him and nestle against him, she didn't move. There was that evil emotion hope again.

“If you don't come to me, I'll come to you. Either way you'll end up in my arms.”

“You're toying with me again.”

“Never. Stop saying that. It angers me that you would think that of me.”

“I don't want to hope,” she whispered as a lone tear traveled down her cheek.

“Your tears break my heart.”

She wiped them away, having no desire to break his heart. One broken heart was enough between them.

A knock on the door broke the moment. Ross stepped away. The door opened and in swooped Elizabeth. “Ross—” She stopped short and put her hand over her eyes. “Oh, dear Lord.”

“Mother,” Ross said between clenched teeth.

Elizabeth looked at them both in disappointment. “This will not end well.”

“Stop, Mother. This is none of your concern.”

“This is definitely my concern. Lady Sara is here—”

“Enough!”

Sara jumped at Ross's angry outburst. She hated that she was the cause of disagreement between son and mother. “Your Grace, I was informing Rossmoyne that I will be moving out this afternoon and residing with my good friend the Countess of Blackbourne.”

Instead of looking relieved, the duchess studied Sara closely. She opened her mouth to say something, then must have thought better of it, for she closed it again and looked at her son.

Ross was watching Sara with a tortured expression and a plea in his eyes that Sara had to turn away from. She could not let him sway her. As his mother said, no good could come of this. Ross refused to believe it now, but in time he would.

“There are visitors,” Elizabeth said. “Lady Penelope and her mother have come calling. It would be nice if you were to visit with them, Ross.”

Ross groaned. “Please, Mother. No.”

“Yes. They are waiting.” She turned to Sara. “Lord Henderson and Lord Newport have come to see you, Sara.”

“Me?” The word sounded like a dreadful squeak, and Sara put a hand to her chest. Certainly no one had come to visit her.

“Yes, you. I would ask that you entertain them, seeing as they are here for you.”

Sara glanced at Ross, whose stormy expression didn't bode well for Lord Henderson or Lord Newport. And poor Lady Penelope. If he looked at Sara like that, she would run screaming from the house.

“I have to finish packing,” she said in an effort to avoid the two lords below. She had no interest in socializing with them. None at all. It got to be so awkward. Long silences when she searched for something interesting to say and came up with nothing but the weather. How mundane. She would rather fold her clothes.

Elizabeth held her hand out. “Come, dear, let us have some tea with our visitors.”