Page 78 of Drowned in the Pleasure of a Devilish Baron
Rebecca was on the other side bearing a tray of tea. She squinted at the door and then into the room. “Is everything all right, Miss?”
Sarah nodded. “Of course. I just value my privacy more than usual at the moment.”
She could feel Rebecca’s sharp eyes looking everywhere around the room, as if there were more to see. Trying to appear unaffected, she sat at her vanity and began to tug at her hair. Rebecca laid the tray on the surface and poured her a cup of tea, then moved to her bed to tidy the blankets. Sarah could barely breathe, watching her move around so carefully. Then her heart grew cold when she saw Rebecca stop mid-task and kneel down onto the ground.
When she stood back up, she was holding a small stick with two leaves attached to it in her hand. “Miss…” she began.
Sarah tossed her head. “It was terribly stuffy in here last night. I opened the window for a while for the breeze. I suppose it also blew in something from my tree.”
Rebecca nodded slowly and did not mention it again as she helped her get dressed. Sarah would just have to pray that she had accepted these explanations at face value and would think no more of them. Once she was dressed, she went downstairs, peeking around for her mother, who was nowhere to be seen.
Taking advantage of the empty main floor, she stepped casually outside and went to the stables, eager to check for something from Juliet. The stables were cool and quiet, and she noticed that the horses for the carriage were gone. So John and her mother were perhaps out, leaving her the house to herself. Good.
There was, indeed, a note in the little pouch on the nail, and she read it quickly, hopeful that Juliet would have found answers.
Sarah,
I will get right to the point, there is little information to be had regarding Lord Ashton. He has been away in Italy for many years, and no one I’ve spoken to knows much about him. There are whispers that the reason he was gone so long was to wait something out, perhaps to wait out the ton forgetting something, but I have found no truth to that yet. I learned only small pieces of information, like the fact that all of his staff are Italian, not an Englishman among them, and that he spends a great deal of time in the gentleman's club in the West End. Gambling? Drinking? No one I’ve spoken to can say for sure.
I have not given up. You will not be forced to marry this man, not on my watch! Leonard is asking his associates as well, he plans to ask Charles, who knows everyone. Of course Leonard knows of Lord Ashton, but mostly of his business and not the man, as I suppose you could call them rivals, given the nature of their business. You know Leonard does not think of anyone that way.
Perhaps if it comes to that, Leonard could approach the gentleman man to man and talk him out of marrying you at all. I swear to you, the three of us are thinking day and night of ways to stop this from happening. Felix will not let it go. If you ever doubted his love, after this, you will never have to again.
He and Leonard went to London to investigate the fires. I hope they will learn something. Do not give up hope, Sarah! Stand strong! We are all behind you!
Juliet
Though it did not give her much new information, it did give her some, and she would hold the final lines close to her heart in the coming days. She folded it up very small and tucked it into the pocket nearest to her heart, hoping her friend’s words would give her strength and determination.
She went back up to her room with still no sign of her mother or of John, and sat at her desk when the door was safely closed and locked behind her. Opening the drawer, she pulled out the sheaf of papers that was the letter she had been writing to Felix. As of now, she did not know the purpose of this letter. It was full of memories of the two of them as children, and then those confusing in-between years where everything seemed to change so suddenly. Memories of him, Juliet, herself, and even John; the games they had played, the fun they had together.
It was much more than that as well. She knew that she was writing him a love letter, but at times she would write a phrase which had such a ring of finality that she was afraid what she was really doing was writing him a letter that he could read once she had been married off to someone else.
Maybe it was her safeguard, her way to say goodbye should the very worst happen, and a way for him to remember her. She continued to write where she had left off.
We have made plans together, plans to run away and be on our own really and truly. I love you for your bravery and determination to steal me away. I will be ready for you come Friday, and I hope it will be the first day of the rest of our lives.
Only a few lines, but she could not seem to write further. She felt very sure of their plan, and suddenly the safeguard goodbye letter seemed not so necessary anymore. She sighed and ran her fingers across the page, wondering if he would ever even read it. If he did, she hoped that she would be at his side. Smiling to herself, she bundled the pages back together, the most recent on top in case she thought of more to say, and carefully put it away in her drawer.
With a sigh, she went to her window and looked out, thinking only of Friday.
By dinnertime, John and her mother had returned home. She knew even before she saw them, so loud and boisterous were their voices from downstairs. As she entered the dining room, she was taken aback by their bright, smiling faces.
“Mother, Brother,” she greeted cautiously, taking her seat at the table.
“Ah, Sarah, good, we were just about to have a toast!” John said merrily.
“Indeed, a toast!” Lady Marlow sang. “To my brilliant son!”
Glasses were passed around and they were all poured a helping of what looked to be a very fine wine from their cellar. Sarah accepted hers in confusion, though she believed she could hazard a guess what they were so happy about. “What’s happened?”
“It’s official,” John said, raising his glass. “The Marquess of Hampshire and I met today, while Mother charmed his wife in the sitting room. We spoke at great length about our future and what was to come, and he was quite pleased with all of it.”
“And he has agreed that Victoria and John should court!” their mother finished in a high-pitched rush. “With talk of marriage already on the table!”
John frowned at her, but good-naturedly, turning a smile back to Sarah. “Can you imagine a match between myself and the daughter of a marquess? Why, the world would be our oyster!”
“Not our oyster,” Sarah said quietly. “Just yours. And Mother’s.”
