Page 27 of Yours Always
Benjamin pushed off the desk and clapped a hand to his shoulder, the gesture full of everything neither of them could say aloud. “Write to me when you land,” he said. Matthew nodded. “You take care of her,” he managed. Benjamin’s voice was quiet, steady and certain. “Always.”
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A somber hush filled the morning parlor, early afternoon light muted through the gauzy curtains. Sarah sat stiffly on the edge of the settee, her hands folded tight in her lap. She’d been staring at the cold fireplace for so long that the crack of the door opening startled her.
Benjamin slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind him. His usual easy manner was gone; he moved like a man walking on thin ice, cautious and careful. He crossed the room and sank into the chair opposite her, resting his elbows on his knees. “Lizzy,” he said quietly. “Talk to me.”
She lifted her chin, but her gaze stayed fixed on the cold hearth. “There is nothing to say.” Benjamin huffed a quiet, bitter laugh. “That’s not true, and we both know it.” Her throat tightened. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” His voice was rougher now, frustration edging into the words. “Matthew is gone, and you have been sitting here like the world has ended. You can not keep pretending that he means nothing to you.” She flinched, her hands clenching tighter. “He made his choice.” Benjamin stood, pacing a short line before the window. “Maybe he thought it was for the best.”
“For whom?” The words spilled from her, sharper than she intended. “He walked away, Ben. He didn’t even say a proper goodbye. He just….left.” He turned, his expression pained.“Maybe he thought he was giving you a chance at the life you deserve.”
Her breath hitched. The words, spoken softly and without malice, cut deeper than any accusation. “You mean the Duke,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Benjamin hesitated. “I am not saying you should marry him. But if you are going to, don’t let it be because you think it is your only option, or because you think it’ll make Matthew regret the choices he made.”
“I’m not,” she said too quickly, but even as the denial left her lips, it sounded thin. She stood abruptly, crossing to the window, her fingers knotting in the sheer curtains. “I am going to do it because it is the right thing. The sensible thing.” Ben’s voice softened behind her. “Sensible doesn’t mean happy, Lizzy.”
She closed her eyes, fighting the sting of tears. “Everyone doesn’t get a happy ending, Benjamin. Not everyone is as lucky as you and Grace.” She turned, her face pale, her shoulders squared with brittle resolve. “Matthew made his choice, and now I am making mine.”
Benjamin’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t argue. He crossed to her, hesitating before placing a hand on her shoulder. “Just promise me you are not doing this to run away from what you really want.” She shook her head, her voice a thin whisper. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“Then wait. Just wait a little longer. Let things settle.”
“I can’t,” she said, the finality in her voice stopping him cold. “If I wait too long, I will only make it harder. I’ll start to hope, and I can’t do that, Ben. Not again.” For a long moment, he stood there, the weight of unspoken grief and understanding passing between them. Finally, he let his hand fall, stepping back.
“I will stand by you, whatever you decide,” he said softly. “But just know—whatever you think, whatever he said or didn’t say—Matthew has always loved you.” Her lips trembled, but she drew herself up, her voice flat and distant. “It doesn’t matter.”
Benjamin nodded once, the motion slow and heavy. “I won’t speak of it again. But if you need me, if you need anything at all, know that I am always here for you.” She turned back to the window, the sunlight catching her profile, pale and resolute. “I know.”
Benjamin lingered a moment longer, then left her in the quiet room, the door clicking softly shut behind him. Once she was alone, Sarah pressed her forehead to the cool glass, her breath fogging the pane. Her pulse thrummed in her throat, her thoughts tangled and sharp.
“I don’t know if I can do this…” she whispered, though whether she meant letting him go or facing the future without him, she wsan’t quite sure.
Chapter 16
September 1854
Edenfield - London, England
The long dining tablehad been cleared. The candles burned low, wax pooling at their bases, and the drawing room now hummed with soft conversation. Teacups clinked gently as Sarah’s family and the Duke gathered, voices weaving in and out in practiced civility. Sarah stood near the window, her shoulder grazing the velvet drapes, her fingers curled around the folds of her gown. Outside, the grounds were swallowed in dusk, the shadows long and shifting. Inside, the nerves in her stomach twisted tighter with every passing moment. She wanted to give him an answer. He deserved clarity, and she deserved peace.
The Duke of Kenswick had been the picture of patience, unfailingly polite, perfectly composed. Waiting for the answer he had asked for not weeks ago—but months. He had even forgone his plans to return to the country at the close of the Season,choosing instead to remain in London and spend the summer in the quiet company of her family. A gesture not of pressure, but of hope. Hope that time might bring her clarity. And still, she had said nothing.
Sarah wasn’t even sure what she was waiting for. For Matthew to burst in and say the words he refused to speak? For the hollow ache in her chest to harden into certainty? It hadn’t, it wouldn’t, and she was tired of waiting.
All evening she had smiled and nodded, murmured pleasantries and sipped her tea as if her heart weren’t beating out a desperate, uneven rhythm behind every word. As if she weren’t being torn apart by the absence of something that had once felt like home.
Across the room, Grace sat beside the fire, worry etched deep behind her composed expression. Benjamin, stiff in his chair, tapped a silent rhythm against his knee, his gaze flicking often to Sarah. Victoria, radiant and satisfied, engaged the Duke in conversation, her laughter a shade too bright.
The Duke was everything good and desirable. He would never raise his voice in anger. He would never retreat into silence or leave her standing in a ballroom with questions still ringing in her chest. He would give her dignity. Respectability. Safety. There would be no scandal. No shame. No heartbreak. Only a carefully built life, polished and proper. It was everything her mother had promised would bring her happiness, and yet... it wasn’t.
The hour stretched thin. The Duke rose, glancing toward Robert murmuring something about the lateness of the evening. Sarah’s breath caught. It was now or never. She could not keep clinging to a ghost. She could not build her life around the memory of a man who had walked away without looking back. Before she could lose her nerve, she crossed the room, herslippers silent against the rug. “Your Grace,” she said, her voice tight, too bright. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
He turned at once, his blue eyes steady as they found hers. “Of course,” he said gently, offering his arm. She took it, leading him into the corridor outside the drawing room, toward the grand staircase. The hush wrapped around them as the door closed behind.
For a moment, they said nothing. The clock ticked in the silence, loud and steady. Sarah looked down at her gloved hands, then forced herself to lift her chin. “You once asked me a question,” her voice trembled, but she didn’t let it falter. “And the answer is long overdue.”
The Duke studied her, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t rush her. She drew a breath, but it felt like swallowing glass. “I would be honored,” she said softly, “to be your wife.” The Duke closed his eyes for the briefest second, exhaling as if he'd been holding his breath for days. When he looked at her again, there was something almost reverent in his expression. “Thank you,” he said, the words rough with feeling. “You have made me the happiest of men, Miss Weston.”
