Page 25 of Yours Always
“Father went out to the stables,” she said. “One of the horses was limping yesterday and he is checking on the progress. I don’t think he knew you were here.” He nodded, the answer catching somewhere in his throat. She was so close. Too close. And he couldn’t stop staring—from the curve of her neck to the rise and fall of her breath—was it him that made her breath catch like that?
He looked away, trying to focus on anything else. His gaze falling on the freckle near the corner of her mouth. Had it always been there? He wanted so desperately to reach out and trace it and to see if it made her lips even softer than they looked.
“It’s been a week,” she said, breaking him from his trance.
“I know, Sarah” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” But sorry wasn’t enough. Not anymore. He stepped away, moving toward one of the chairs. When he said her name he noticed that her smile faltered.Why did he have to notice everything?
“Would you like to go rest in the drawing room?” she asked, dragging a chair beside his. “It’s much more comfortable. We can finally talk....”
“No,” he said carefully. “I’m just going to wait here for your father. I have matters to discuss with him, and then I need to arrange travel.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.
“Travel?” she echoed. “Are you going somewhere?” He wasn’t ready for this conversation. He never would be.
“I’m going back to Scotland.” Her expression shifted. “To visit your aunt?”
“She passed away a few weeks ago.” His voice was calm, but unattached to the words he as saying.. “I have some estate matters to settle.”
“Oh, Matty...” Her voice softened. “I’m so sorry.” She slid to the front of her chair, placing a hand over his. He didn’t dare look at it, or her touch might unravel him. “How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know.” He pulled his hand away as he rose and turned away. The view from the window offered no clarity, but he needed the distance if he was going to make it through the next few moments. “Sarah, I don’t know if I’m coming back.”
He heard the hitch in her breath even with his back to her. “What do you mean, you don’t know if you’re coming back?” she asked. “You have to come back. London is your home.”
“It might not be anymore.”
“No,” she said fiercely, rising. “You can’t leave. You have to stay.” She reached for his arm, her fingers curling gently around his elbow turning him to face her. “Stay with me.” Her scent surrounded him; peppermint, tea, soap and fresh air. He could almost taste it. If he leaned in now, he could silence any doubt about his feelings for her. But he didn’t.
Her words,Stay with me, turned over in his mind, refusing to settle. He wanted to believe he knew what she meant. But believing might hurt more than not knowing.
“It is not that easy, Sarah.” he forced out the only words he could manage.
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“What?”
“Sarah. You keep calling me Sarah…why?”
Because calling you Lizzy was my way of saying I love you, and I can’t say that anymore.The words pressed hard against the inside of his mouth, but his jaw locked. His eyes didn’t move from hers. “Because it is your name,” he said flatly. “No, it’s not,” she whispered. “Not to you. I’ve always been your Lizzy.”
He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the feeling rising in his chest.His Lizzy. The name used to come so naturally. He used to let it slip in with a smile, a tease, something easy and warm. But things weren’t easy anymore, and warm didn’t feel safe.
“It is not proper anymore,” he said, his voice tight with the effort it took to keep it even. “You are out in society, and of marriageable age. It is not appropriate for me to use a childhood pet name.”
“You never cared about propriety before. Benjamin still calls me Liz.”
“I am not your brother.” The words came out with more force than he had intended, like a door slammed in the middle of a sentence. They landed hard between them, everything they refused to say echoing in their wake.
Sarah didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin, voice steady and gaze fixed on him. “No. You’re not.” In a single breath, she returned the weight of his words, not with cruelty, but with clarity. Except nothing was clear anymore.
Matthew’s shoulders tensed, his hands curling at his sides, struggling to regain control. “Then you see how some people might view our closeness and our sentiments, no matter how innocent they may feel to you.”
Sarah’s arms folded tightly across her chest, a barrier. “But it never mattered before...”
“Well, it matters now.” His voice snapped sharper.
She stepped back as if he’d struck her, her eyes wide. “Who told you the Duke made his proposal?” she asked, voice trembling with restrained fury. “I knew it was coming,” he said flatly.
“I haven’t given him an answer.”
