Page 17 of Yours Always
Sarah’s heart twisted. Something had cracked in a place she hadn’t known was fragile. She didn’t know what it was, only that she might never get it back.
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The ride home was colder than it should have been, though the late sun still gilded the sky in soft gold. Matthew didn’t see it. He rode with his jaw tight, reins taut in his gloved hands, each breath a battle between restraint and ache. He didn’t know if he wanted to strike something or hold something. Or someone. But she wasn’t his to hold.
The image of her hand resting lightly on the Duke’s arm burned behind his eyes. Not because of jealousy, though that thorn pricked too, but because with every step that she took beside The Duke, she was being led further away from him. Matthew knew he had no right to stop it. “This is her choice," he muttered aloud. He truly believed she deserved to choose her own future, but still, the words felt bitter on his tongue.
Matthew dismounted in silence, tossing the reins to the stable boy with a nod. His boots struck hollow against the stone as he crossed into the quiet house. The study door clicked shut behind him. He shed his coat and dropped into the nearest chair, elbows braced on his knees, hands covering his face.
The scent of her clung to his memory, lavender and peppermint, and the soft breath of laughter that had always undone him. He had told himself he’d step aside if it came tothis. If it meant her happiness. He would keep his promise, because he loved her enough to let her go. Even if it broke him.
Chapter 11
The day was offensively bright. The lawns of the Rockwell estate stretched wide and green beneath a flawless sky, the scent of roses and freshly cut grass heavy in the air. Parasols bobbed like pastel clouds, croquet balls clinked gently against mallets, and polite laughter drifted above it all like music no one was really listening to.
Sarah stood near the tea tables next to the Duke as he spoke in his measured, thoughtful way about Adeline’s new courtship, and his younger sister Charlotte’s growing list of offenses. He claimed with a hint of amusement, that she should be banned from polite society for all time.
Sarah’s eyes kept drifting across the lawn to where Matthew stood near the croquet game. His arms were folded, posture relaxed but not at ease. His smile was too sharp to be genuine. He hadn’t spoken to her all afternoon, and it hurt morethan she could explain. When the invitation to join the game came, she accepted with a smile. The Duke offered his arm, and she took it, letting herself be led into something light and simple. For a while, it worked. The sun was warm, the rhythm easy. She even managed a laugh or two, until Matthew spoke.
“Steady there, Lizzy,” he called from the sidelines, the old nickname landing like a stone dropped into still water. “Try not to climb any trees this time. It rather complicates the illusion of a perfect duchess.”
On the surface, it was a jest, but the air underneath it shifted. The laughter around them thinned and the Duke’s hand on her arm went still. Sarah’s smile faltered, and her fingers tightened on the mallet. She turned back to her shot, hands trembling.
“I only meant...” Matthew added, too loud now, stepping forward, “Lizzy’s always been more spirited than most.” Sarah straightened. Her voice, when it came, was brittle and cold. “My brother’s friends always did have a knack for holding onto childhood things a little too long.”
She swung and nearly missed, sending the ball straight into a rosebush. Laughter rippled, polite but unmistakably edged. She murmured something she wouldn’t remember later, and excused herself as she hurried away from the game. The Duke followed at a respectful distance, and Matthew stayed exactly where he was.
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As the rest of the players moved on to the next wicket, Benjamin approached Matthew, smirking. “Well done,” he said cheerfully. “You managed to humiliate both her and yourself in one go.” Matthew didn’t respond. His jaw flexed, but he kept his gaze fixed on the grass, the sting of his own misstep still fresh.
Benjamin caught sight of Grace striding across the lawn, skirts snapping like sails in a storm. He grinned. “And now,” he said brightly, backing away, “I am going to enjoy this from a very safe distance.”
Matthew barely had time to exhale before Grace descended upon him. “You absolute fool,” she hissed. He crossed his arms. “Good afternoon to you too, Gracie..” Grace jabbed a finger into his chest. “Don’t act like you don’t know what you just did.” He stared past her toward the horizon. “It was not intentional.”
“That’s worse,” she snapped. “If it had been, at least you would have had the presence of mind to control your actions.” He said nothing, for he knew there was nothing he could say to defend it . “You embarrassed her,” Grace said, voice tight. “You made her look reckless, and worse, you made it painfully obvious to everyone, especially the Duke, that you know her better than the man trying to court her.”
Matthew looked away, the guilt a heavy knot in his chest. “She trusts you,” Grace continued, voice softening just enough to twist the knife. “And you used that trust to make her small, whether you meant to or not.” Grace’s words landed with terrible precision, not cruel, but true. “You love her,” Grace said flatly. “And instead of telling her, you’re letting her believe she belongs to someone else.”
His jaw clenched. Grace leaned in one last time, her voice low and sharp. “You’re not protecting her, Matty. You’re hurting her.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and swept back into the throng. Matthew remained rooted in place, the world spinning too brightly around him, the taste of regret bitter in his mouth.
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The sun dipped lower, casting the gardens in a soft, amber haze. Guests began calling for carriages, collecting shawls andmurmuring farewells as the last light of the afternoon stretched across the lawn. Sarah found the Duke near the rose walk, standing alone amidst the shadows and fading petals. The quiet dignity of his posture, the stillness in his frame, unnerved her more than disappointment ever could.
She approached slowly, smoothing trembling fingers over the folds of her skirt. “Your Grace,” she said softly, dipping into a graceful curtsy. “I hope the afternoon was not too unpleasant.”
The Duke turned at her voice, his pale blue eyes calm and unreadable. “It was a very pleasant gathering,” he said evenly, courteous but distant. Sarah twisted her hands together. “I fear Mr. Fenwick’s remarks may have given you the wrong impression.” A beat of silence passed. “I believe,” the Duke said gently, “the impressions were not wrong.”
The words landed like a stone in her chest. “I’ve known him all my life,” she said quickly, too quickly. “He is...” She stopped. What was he? A brother? A friend? Nothing she could say would be quite true. Whatever Matthew was, it was too complicated to put in words.
The Duke’s expression softened, not unkind or pitying, just knowing. “I admire loyalty, Miss Weston. I do not begrudge him knowing you well.”
“I—” she began again, but he lifted a hand to stop her. “It is not my wish to ask you to be anyone but yourself,” he said gently. “Only that you be honest about who that truly is.” He bowed, brushing the air just above her fingers in a gesture so respectful it made her heart ache, then turned and walked away into the dusk. Sarah stood unmoving in the lengthening shadows. The choice was clear, the path she was meant to take unmistakable, so why did it feel like she hovered at a crossroads?
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The breakfast room at Edenfield glowed with the soft hush of morning, sunlight slanting across the floor and catching on the silver service until it gleamed. The house stirred gently around him—the muffled clatter of dishes from the kitchens, the low murmur of servants somewhere down the corridor— but here, all was still. Matthew sat alone at the long table, absently stirring his tea, the slow, rhythmic tap of the spoon against porcelain the only sound.
