Page 51 of To Claim the Long-Lost Lover
They walked back along the path from the church to the house, hand in hand. Just outside the side door that she had left unlatched for their return, he stopped to kiss her again. “I could not face all of this without you, my dearest heart.”
She looked up into his beloved face, turned to planes and shadows in the moonlight, his eyes smiling into hers. “You and I have both shown that we have the strength to stand alone if we must,” she said. “How much better to be able to show the world how strong we are together.”
The new Earl of Lechton bent to lift his countess, and carried her upstairs to bed.
Epilogue
March 1815
In the early Spring, Charlotte came up to London to support Sarah and her husband. Charlotte and Sarah sat in the public gallery of the House of Lords, watching as the Earl of Lechton, resplendent in his parliamentary robes and flanked by two other earls, made his formal presentation of his credentials to the clerk. The following day, Charlotte and Nate waited in one of the outer rooms of St James Palace while the twin’s mother presented the Countess of Lechton at a drawing room presided over by the Prince Regent.
A ball hosted by Lord and Lady Lechton at the Winshire mansion, the Lechton townhouse being too small, rounded out the events that marked Nate’s and Sarah’s full ascension to the honours and duties of their new position.
“They seem devoted to one another still,” Aldridge commented, as he and Charlotte took their turn to stand out of the line in the set they were dancing.
“They are,” Charlotte assured him. “I have never seen Sarah so happy. When she found Elias, she said that she had all she needed in life, but there was always an edge of sadness—and now it is gone. She and Nate complete one another, I think.”
Charlotte didn’t mean to sigh. She hoped Aldridge wouldn’t think her jealous of Sarah’s happiness. His comment showed he understood, as he turned his head to watch his half-sister Lady Hamner skip down through the pattern of the dance, her eyes fixed on her husband. “I see Matilda and Charles, so absorbed in one another the rest of us might as well not exist. And I am pleased for them, of course. It makes me wistful, Cherry.”
Wistful described her feelings perfectly. She was so pleased with his understanding that she accepted his request for another dance, this one a waltz, and then regretted it when he put his hand on her back, just above the waist, and the uncomfortable sensations that only he inspired possessed her.
* * *
“They dance beautifully together,” Nate observed to his wife as they watched Charlotte and Aldridge in the waltz. “It is obvious they care for one another.”
Sarah shook her head. “I wish… But I understand her reasons for refusing him, Nate.”
“She should tell him her reasons,” Nate argued. “Does he not have a right to know why he is being rejected?
“She will not, though. She is afraid he would insist it doesn’t matter, then come to hate her. And she could never bear that. I wish he were not heir to a duke, Nate. She might take the risk with an ordinary gentleman.”
“I imagine he will be the Duke of Haverford before the end of this year,” Nate observed. “I wonder if that is what Colyton is waiting for?”
The Earl of Colyton was dancing with Jessica. According to the Duchess of Haverford, he had been very attentive since the duchess and her two younger wards had arrived back in Town earlier in the month.
His caution in coming to the point was understandable, Sarah supposed, given that his chosen wife would also be stepmother to his daughters. Sarah could not forget his scathing denouncement of base-born children in high-born families, but perhaps he had changed his mind.
“Here comes Val,” Sarah said. The Earl of Ashbury had attended the House of Lords investment, the luncheon after the Drawing Room, and now the ball at the behest of his wife, who had not come to London with him.
“A good turn out,” he said to the couple. “Sarah, what do you call that colour you are wearing? Ruth will want to know.”
“Lavender stripes on an ivory base with Esterhazy lace,” Sarah told him.
Val grinned. “I can manage to remember lavender and ivory. I thought you were going to say ‘maiden’s sigh’, or ‘Princess Royal’ or some obscure French word invented by dress-makers to confuse the rest of us. Mirrie asked me to fetch her Coquelicot ribbons and Genny wanted hers in Pompadour, if you can believe it.”
“When are you heading home?” Sarah asked.
“Tomorrow, as I had planned.”
Nate widened his eyes. “I thought the news from France might…” he trailed off at a nudge from his wife.
Val responded to the comment anyway. “I cannot make much of a contribution to stopping Napoleon. I can be with my wife when our child is born.” He shrugged. “There’s a lot of posturing in the House of Lords, but this is not going to have a political solution. We will need to fight the man again.” He shrugged the shoulder above his empty sleeve. “I can’t make a contribution there, either, and better tacticians than I are buzzing in and out of the Foreign Office and the Horse Guard.”
“Give your ladies my love,” Sarah said. “Do you think you’ll bring them up to town before the end of the Season?”
Val shook his head. “Not with Wharton still at large somewhere. It’s too hard to protect them in London.”
“That’s what we decided about my sisters and Elias,” Nate told him.
