Page 20 of Yours Always
He left and shut the door behind him with a softness that felt final, and Sarah stood alone in the echo. She didn’t know what this was, not fully, but it felt dangerously close to heartbreak.
Chapter 12
The pale spring sunfiltered through the leafy canopy of Kensington Gardens, scattering silver and gold across the winding gravel path. The scent of blooming lilacs mingled with the softer fragrance of early roses, and the air carried the hush of a town briefly at peace. Sarah walked slowly, her gloved hands tucked into the folds of her light walking dress. Each step was careful and measured. The Duke of Kenswick strolled beside her perfectly composed, hands clasped behind his back. He wore no hat today, and the sunlight caught in the raven-dark waves of his hair.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Sarah said, her voice quiet. Too quiet. He glanced toward her, then offered a smile, softening the gravity that usually shaped his expression. "It is. I can't recall the last time I allowed myself a simple stroll, free of some tiresome errand or formal obligation."
Sarah let out a soft, surprised laugh. "Surely a Duke's time is never his own." He shook his head, a teasing light glinting in his crystal clear eyes. "Only if he allows it to be stolen. I’ve decided there are worse offenses than shirking duty now and then." Then, lowering his voice slightly, as if sharing something just for her, "Stolen moments, I find, are often the most precious."
Sarah tried to smile. It was small and faint, but genuine. They walked on, their steps muted on the path as the bustle of the Ton whispered beyond the hedges. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, a child’s laughter rose, and the world moved gently around them. “May I ask you something personal?” the Duke said after a pause. Sarah nodded, not trusting her voice. “What is it you most look forward to in marriage?”
She could have given the expected answer—security, companionship, children. She nearly did. But something in his earnest tone unlocked something deeper. “I suppose I look forward to being known,” she said softly. “To being seen. Not just the version of me society praises or expects, but truly seen for who I am.”
The Duke was silent for a moment. “That is a rare thing,” he said. “Rare,” Sarah agreed, “but not impossible.” They paused at the edge of the Round Pond. The water gleamed beneath the shifting sky, ducks skimming across the surface in lazy patterns. The Duke turned toward her fully, his expression open in a way that caught her off guard. “You deserve happiness, Miss Weston,” he said. “And I believe you could find it.” His voice was warm in a way that should have comforted her, but instead, something inside her twisted.
“And you, Your Grace?” she asked. “What do you seek?” He smiled again, but this one didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The same as you. To be chosen not for what I represent, or for my name.Just for me.” Sarah swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. “You deserve that too,” she whispered.
A breeze stirred the hem of her skirts, and lifted a strand of hair across her cheek. The Duke reached out instinctively, brushing it back with careful fingers. The touch was gentle and respectful, but it didn’t stir her blood. It didn’t make her forget where she was. If anything, it reminded her of what was missing.
He stepped back, apology already in his expression. “Forgive me, I forget myself.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she said. “It was kind.” He offered his arm again and she accepted it after a moment’s hesitation, her hand resting where it ought to.
They resumed their walk along the path, an elegant pair moving through the heart of the gardens under the shadow of trees just beginning to bloom. Sarah glanced up at the man who could give her everything, but all she could feel was what she couldn’t.
If love could be summoned by kindness alone—
If hearts could be trained to obey like minds—
This would be the beginning of the greatest love story of all.
But her heart knew the truth, even if she wasn’t ready to say it aloud.
______________________
Sarah curled her legs beneath her on the oversized library settee, a heavy novel forgotten in her lap. Outside, the rain veiled the gardens in soft grays and greens, blurring the world beyond the tall windows. The gentle hush of the storm should have soothed her, but her thoughts kept circling back to Matthew. He and Benjamin would be returning from Somerton any day now, and she had no idea how she would face him.
Across the room, Grace sat near the fire, absently turning a teacup in her hands. She’d been quiet for too long, her gaze calm but something in her looked like someone bracing for a storm they knew would come. At last, she spoke, tone deceptively light. “So, how is your Duke?”
Sarah startled, nearly dropping the book. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, summoning a smile. “He is wonderful,” she said. “Kind. Generous. Everything a young woman could hope for.” Grace arched a brow. “Is that so?” Sarah lifted her chin. “Yes, truly. I feel very fortunate.”
Grace set her cup down with a soft clink and leaned forward. “Sarah, you do not have to convince me.” A knot pulled tight in Sarah’s chest. She looked away, her voice low. “I am not trying to convince you.”
“You are trying to convince yourself,” Grace said gently. Sarah let out a soft, brittle laugh. “I do not know what you mean.” Grace stood and crossed the room, settling beside her on the settee. Her hands were still, but her eyes were not.
“You care for the Duke, I can see that, but you don’t glow when you speak of him, Sarah. Your voice doesn’t catch. Your face doesn’t light.” Sarah turned her teacup in her hands. “Not every marriage is a romantic love story, Grace. Most are not. They are built on convenience, stability, and respectability.” Grace reached over and stilled her hands. “Convenience,” she repeated. “Is that what you want?”
Sarah stared down at their joined fingers. “I think,” she said carefully, “that stability is more important than foolish dreams.” The words sounded rehearsed. Like something she’d been taught. Grace’s voice softened. “And Matthew?” Sarah stilled. “Matthew is...” She hesitated. “He is my friend. Practically my brother.”
Grace raised her eyebrows. “We have been through this. Whatever he is to you, it isn’t brotherly.” Sarah stood abruptly,moving to the fireplace, arms wrapped tight around her ribs. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Matthew does not see me that way, and even if he did, it’s too late.”
“Is it?” Grace asked behind her, voice barely more than a breath. Sarah closed her eyes. “He’s never said anything,” she whispered. “Not once. If there were feelings, surely he would have expressed them by now.”
“And you?” Grace said quietly. “You’ve come up with plenty of reasons to stay silent yourself.” Sarah turned to her, pale but composed. “I like the Duke. It’s a good match, and my family approves. There will be no risks, no heartbreak. It’s the right choice.”
Grace stepped closer and laid her hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “I know you are scared…” she said, voice trembling. …after Mary, and all of the pressure your mother has put on you. But Sarah—” Her eyes filled. “Don’t trade love for convenience because you are afraid. You deserve more than a ‘good match.’ You deserve to be wildly, and outrageously loved.”
Sarah blinked fast, fighting the burn behind her eyes. She gave a breath of a laugh, fragile and unconvincing. “I believe I have had enough wild and outrageous things in my life.” Grace pulled her into a hug, arms strong and steady around her. “I just want you to be happy,” she whispered. Sarah closed her eyes. “I am.” They stayed like that for a long time, the rain tapping soft rhythms against the windows, as Sarah kept her eyes shut and tried, just for a little while, to believe her own words.
