Page 24 of An Honorable Arrangement
Scooping up her outerwear before it hit the floor, Monty called a maid over and asked her to take their coats up to their rooms.
Mrs. Pratt said, "It seems we've stumbled into a local tradition of merriment." She turned to Monty. "I hope you don't mind, my lord, but I arranged for dinner in a private room."
"Not at all, madam. That was very thoughtful. Shall we go up and settle in before we eat?"
With a long hesitation and a bright grin, Sarah agreed and took his arm. "Do you think the music will still be going on when we've finished eating?"
Having no idea, he shrugged.
"The innkeeper tells me that this may go on all night and apologized for the noise keeping us awake." Mrs. Pratt's voice thrilled with excitement.
"Wonderful." Sarah beamed brighter.
"You may not think so when the wee hours arrive and they are still singing off-key below." Monty laughed.
The same young maid who had taken their outerwear showed them their rooms. They stopped at the room the ladies would share. Sarah curtsied. "We have had little amusement these last few years, my lord. I don't think we shall mind some merriment interrupting our sleep."
With a bow, he left her at her door. It was ridiculous, as he would see her in a few minutes for dinner, but he missed being near Sarah. The warm floral scent of her had gotten in his blood, and he became more and more certain he couldn't live without her company.
Once inside his small but well-appointed room, he berated himself for being a fool. She was just a woman and not even one of great breeding or wealth. His father wouldn't be pleased with such a match, and who knew what plans his aunt had for Sarah's future. He could march into Willoughby Castle and demand he be given leave to marry Sarah, then the next day, his father and mother would arrive and make a horrible scene.
Sarah deserved better than the promise of marriage and then that same marriage being forbidden. Not that he always listened to his parents. He was sounding more and more like an idiot in his own head.
Mother had been parading Lady Evelin Daniels around him for years. It was no secret she was meant to be his bride. As the daughter of the Earl of Branden, she was of superb breeding. Until a few days ago, Monty hadn't minded the notion of someday marrying Evelin. He liked her well enough, and she wasn't hard to look at. Yet, since meeting Sarah Sommers, just the thought of the earl's daughter made him a little nauseous.
Perhaps it was better to put all notions of the future out of his mind. After all, nothing could be done while they traveled. He might as well enjoy the voyage.
Monty washed his face and hands in the basin, dried himself, and changed into a clean shirt. Once he was fully dressed and ready for dinner, he went downstairs.
The happy music continued, and revelers ate, drank, and danced. He found Sarah in the center of the crowd being whirled around the circle of a country dance. Laughter and joy illuminated her face.
Joining Mrs. Pratt at the edge of the dancefloor, Monty said, "This is a lively party."
Mrs. Pratt clapped and grinned. "It is indeed, my lord." She waved to Sarah, who thanked her dance partner and skipped her way toward them to the beat of the music.
The hulking farmer who she'd been dancing with watched her go, met Monty's glare, and shrugged before seeking out another partner.
Monty should have been upset or jealous, but the pure happiness in Sarah's face and the way she smiled at him made him light of heart. "Shall we find our dinner, or would you prefer to continue the dance?"
"I'm famished," she said, still wearing the happiest face he'd seen since he’d picked her up at her last home.
Leading the ladies across the common room gleaned glances from several men, but soon they were ensconced in a private room and the smells of stew, potatoes, bread, and winter beans overtook any worry Monty might have had.
He enjoyed watching her eat with a kind of delicate gusto. She didn't pick at her food as many debutantes did. With no fear that he might think her slovenly or gluttonous, she ate her fill and talked of music and dance as easily as she had conversed about politics in the carriage.
It shouldn't give him such joy to watch and listen, but he couldn't have stopped it had he wanted to. If he were honest, he never wanted to stop.
ChapterEight
Full of stew and potatoes, Sarah watched the dancing for a while. Many people had taken to tables to eat supper, so fewer were reveling on the dance floor. Still, the musicians played on, and the mood hadn't dimmed.
Surprised to hear a waltz in such a place, Sarah couldn't help her grin.
Monty bowed before her with his right hand out. "May I have this dance, Miss Sommers, or is your card full?"
She grinned and took his hand. "It seems I have no other suitors this dance, my lord."
Easily, he took her in his arms and merged them with the other dancers. The feel of his hand on her waist was like flames that filled her entire body and made her long to have more of him touching her. If they had been at a society ball, even that touch would have been scandalous. A country dance was laxer in its rules of conduct. Perhaps Sarah should have chided him for the intimacy, but she liked it too well to complain.
