Page 13 of Yours Always
“Very much,” she replied.
They slipped through one of the tall balcony doors into the cool hush of evening. The stone beneath her slippers was chilled by the night, and the air, scented with climbing roses and the faint promise of rain, washed over her skin like a balm. They stood side by side, the garden stretching out below, moonlight silvering the hedges and bowing branches.
“You do not flatter,” he said after a moment. “Most would have praised the splendor of the evening a dozen times by now.” Sarah drew a quiet breath. “I have never seen the point in saying what everyone already expects to hear.” He looked at her, head tilting slightly. “You would be surprised how rare that is.”
“Perhaps not so rare,” she said softly. “Just harder to hear over all the noise.” He studied her for a moment longer, thoughtful. “You are not like the others.” It wasn’t a flirtation. It wasn’t praise. It was an observation; plain and unvarnished. “And you,” she said, meeting his gaze evenly, “are not what I expected either.” His mouth quirked, almost amused. “Should I ask whether that’s meant as a compliment?”
“You may.”
“And would you answer?”
“That depends.”
He laughed, a sound both honest and touched with surprise, and Sarah found herself smiling with him. For the first time all evening, the heaviness on her chest seemed to lift. Inside, the orchestra struck up a livelier tune, the crowd shifting once more into motion, all silk and shimmer and practiced delight. “I should return you to your friends,” he said gently. He offered his arm once more and she took it, surprised again by the ease between them. It was the quiet steadiness of him, the way he listened without waiting to speak, and how he made space for silence instead of rushing to fill it. There was no artifice in him.
Just as she began to wonder what it might be like to walk beside a man like this, they reentered the ballroom. Her gaze moved instinctively toward the far side of the room, and there he was. Matthew stood just beyond the crowd, arms crossed loosely, his posture relaxed but his eyes unwavering and watching. When his eyes met hers, something in her shifted. Not a flutter. Not a thrill. Something slower. Something that felt undeniably like home.
As the Duke walked away, Sarah barely had time to gather her thoughts before her mother swept in with a determined glint in her eye. “There you are, darling,” Victoria Weston said, her voice low and urgent beneath the hum of the ballroom. “I hardly knew what had become of you.”
“I only stepped outside for some air,” Sarah replied softly, still wrapped in the quiet she’d shared under the stars. Victoria’s sharp gaze flicked over her, then past her shoulder. “And with such company,” she murmured, her tone softening into something much too close to triumph. “The Duke of Kenswick is everything a young woman could hope for. And more importantly, everything her family could hope for.” Sarah glanced down at her gloved hands, twisting them in the folds of her skirt. Victoria smiled and smoothed a stray curl from Sarah’s shoulder. “Opportunity comes seldom. And seldom twice.”
Before Sarah could summon a reply, her mother’s attention was caught by a passing acquaintance. With a rustle of silk and a flash of polite laughter, she was gone, already melting back into the glittering crowd. Sarah stood motionless, and alone. Her gaze once again swept the edge of the ballroom, over the gilded mirrors and flickering candlelight, searching instinctively for one face, but Matthew was gone.
He wasn’t at the doorway where he had stood. Not near the terrace where he had waited. No familiar shadow lingering against the wall, no steady eyes watching from across the room. The ache bloomed fast and sharp in her chest. Had he seen her laughing with the Duke? Standing beneath the lanterns, smiling like she belonged in that world? Had he decided that she no longer needed him to look after her? The thought was absurd, yet it sank deep, curling into the corners of her heart where doubt and fear already lived.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like the Duke; he was kind, and clever, and made enjoyable company. It was that the room suddenly felt less bright without Matthew in it, and she hadn’t realized how much light he carried for her until she could no longer find it
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The gardens at Langston Hall hummed softly beneath the hush of midnight, the revelry behind the ballroom doors fading to a distant murmur. Lanterns flickered gently along the gravel paths, casting golden halos over the trimmed hedges and climbing roses, their petals silvered by moonlight. Out beneath the stars, the world felt quieter. Cooler. A welcome contrast to the crush and glitter still pulsing inside.
Matthew leaned against one of the terrace pillars, arms crossed over his chest, the clean line of his coat rumpled slightly from hours of wear. He wasn’t hiding, not exactly, but the achein his chest demanded air and the air was easier to breathe out here. He hadn’t meant to stay long. Just a moment to clear his head.
He closed his eyes and could still see Sarah moving through the ballroom, like something conjured from a dream. Her dress shimmered in the candlelight, a soft, silvery blue that caught the palest gleam of every crystal chandelier and turned it to starlight. Her hair had been swept up in elegant waves, with just enough softness left loose to frame her face. There had been a flush in her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes that made something inside him tighten. She had smiled at the Duke of Kenswick, and Matthew had felt the ground shift beneath his feet.
He didn’t begrudge the Duke. Nathaniel was a good man, better than most who’d hovered around Sarah the past few weeks. Steady. Respected. Titled. Everything her mother would approve of. Everything he wasn’t.
He heard Benjamin approaching before he saw him, the faint crunch of gravel underfoot and an off-key whistle that drifted into the air like mischief on the wind. “Are you planning to hide out here all night?”
Ben asked as he joined him, clapping a hand to Matthew’s shoulder. “Someone’s got to keep an eye on the roses,” Matthew said, his voice not as steady as he had hoped. “Can’t have them running riot while the rest of you are inside drinking champagne.” Benjamin snorted. “You are a terrible liar.”
“I’ve always preferred creative storyteller.”
Ben gave him a sidelong glance, reading him with the unsettling ease of someone who’d known him far too long. “I saw you with Sarah earlier.”
“Doing my duty,” Matthew said lightly. “Protecting your family’s honor, warding off rakes and minor nobility. Selfless work, really.”
“She didn’t seem to mind the attention of one particular Duke.” Matthew let out a short breath of a laugh. “No, she didn’t.”
“He’s a good man.”
Matthew nodded. “He is.”
Benjamin studied him for a moment longer. “You sound almost disappointed.” Matthew gave him a look. “Benjamin...” The name alone carrying the warning. “What?” Ben asked, mock-innocent. “Can’t a brother wonder what future might be in store for his only sister?”
“She is not a child anymore, Ben.”
“No, she’s not,” Benjamin said quietly, the weight of his words settling in Matthew’s chest. They stood in silence for a moment, the hush of the garden wrapping around them. “She looked happy tonight,” Benjamin said at last. Matthew’s gaze drifted toward the house. “Aye,” he said softly. “She did.”
