Page 6 of To Claim the Long-Lost Lover
As usual, Charlotte understood what she was thinking, and answered without waiting for the question. “Farnham says that the Privileges Committee was told that Lechton’s son was dead. Then, two months ago, Lechton wrote to say it had all been a mistake. The young man had been found and was back with his family.”
“If even his family thought he was dead…” Sarah was finally able to slide her gown off her shoulders and let it slip to the floor.
Charlotte grimaced. “Who knows? Farnham also pointed out that Lady Lechton has three daughters, and rumour has it she is not able to have another child.”
Sarah stepped out of her gown, picked it up, and folded it over the back of a chair. “Turn around, Charlotte,” she commanded, and began the task of unhooking her sister. “How did your part of the table react to your interest in the Lechtons?”
Charlotte shrugged. “I did not have to ask a single question. Apparently, Bentham is thetopic du jour. Some of the men have met him out making calls with his stepmother. He has apparently been in the navy, most recently as a student physician at the university in Edinburgh.”
Sarah raised her brows. The navy? He had never mentioned any interest in becoming a sailor. “Ready,” she said to her sister, and helped her lift her gown over her head.
“Sit down, sweetheart, and I shall brush your hair,” Charlotte offered.
Sarah watched her sister’s face in the mirror. She knew that look. “Out with it, Charlotte. What are you not telling me?”
“Lechton has told the men at his club that he has brought Bentham to London to choose a bride.”
Charlotte’s hands stilled for a moment, then she resumed the soothing motion of the brush until Sarah spun on the chair to face her. “Shouldn’t you tell him, Sarah? Doesn’t he have a right to know?”
Sarah shook her head. “He wasn’t there, Charlotte. He left, with never a word. I’ve not heard from him from that day to this.” She rose and stepped away.
Charlotte followed her, and wrapped her arms around her. “I know,” she murmured. “I know.”
Sarah held herself stiff for a moment, then relaxed into her sister’s embrace. “I can’t face him, Charlotte. Not yet.”
“When you are ready,” Charlotte agreed. “You need to know what really happened, Sarah, or you’ll always wonder.”
Charlotte had the right of it. She was a bubbling stew of anger, longing and old sorrow. But underneath lurked the need to know for certain whether Nate had lied to get her into his bed; whether he had seduced and abandoned her, and if so, whether he had meant to do so all along.
Underneath the ferment, the thread of hope she’d never quite surrendered whispered that perhaps he had intended to be true. Perhaps he had been coerced in some way. Unlikely. If so, why had he not written? Why had he not returned to her when he came back to Great Britain?
Still, she would give him his chance. “After the house party,” she told Charlotte. “Time enough to arrange to meet him when I return. I will leave for Lady de Witt’s tomorrow morning, a day early, before he has a chance to call.Ifhe intends to call. If Drew cannot escort me, he can wait and come with you. I can make the trip before dark and will be safe with the outriders.”
And she would take Elias with her. Lady de Witt would not mind, and Elias would enjoy being in the company of other children. The risk that Nate would hear about her ward was low, and even if he did, he’d hear the manufactured story that Elias was the by-blow of one of the deceased Winderfield men, either Sarah’s brother or her father. It was unlikely in the extreme that he’d guess the carefully hidden truth.
Still, Sarah would feel safer if Elias was within reach of her arms.
4
Nate waited impatiently for the hour past noon, the earliest he could possibly make a call to the Winderfield household. Libby planned to begin her courtesy calls at three of the clock. “Even that is early, Nate.”
“I will arrive in time to escort you, Libby,” he promised.
However, the formidable butler at the Winshire mansion shook his head at Nate’s request to have his card taken to Lady Sarah. “I regret, sir, that Lady Sarah is not in residence.”
Nate fought the inclination to point out he had seen the lady only the previous evening. If she had told the Winshire butler to deny him entry, any arguments he might make would be met with a blandly polite wall of repudiation.
The butler, though, did not leave it at that. He unbent enough to say, “Lady Sarah left for the country this morning, my lord.”
Nate knew it was no use, but he asked anyway, where she had gone and how long she would be away.
As expected, the butler refused to answer. “It is not my place to say, sir.”
Nate was turning away when he had another thought. The butler had said Lady Sarah had left. “Perhaps you could take my card up to Lady Charlotte? Tell her I would be grateful if she could spare me a moment of her time.”
He more than half expected the butler to explain that Lady Charlotte was also out of town. However, the man merely bowed, and asked him to wait. He ushered Nate into a small parlour, and carried off the card.
Nate tried to remember what Lady Charlotte was like. He had barely noticed her yesterday evening, his attention all on not embarrassing Lady Sarah or, for that matter, Libby, by staring at his long-lost love like a gawky youth. He had a vague impression she was much of a size with her sister, but brown-haired where Sarah was fair.
