Page 6 of Yours Always
Still, he couldn’t resist turning his head just slightly, searching instinctively for a glimpse of her. And there she was, lingering at the far end of the terrace, half-shrouded by climbing roses, watching them. Watching him. Their eyes met for only a second before she turned away, her skirts catching the faint breeze as she disappeared into the house. Matthew smiled faintly, the ache deepening in his chest.
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Inside, just beyond the light and laughter of the terrace, Sarah leaned against the wall as the soft hum of conversation outside faded. What was wrong with her? It was only Matthew. It had always just been Matthew. And yet, something was different. The way he had spoken, standing there in the moonlight, voice low and laced with a fierce tenderness, had made her throat tighten."She deserves someone who sees her."
Sarah bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut against the sting. Matthew had always seen her, even when no one else had. Not her mother. Not the endless parade of Society matrons whotutted at her unpolished ways. Now he spoke about her with such aching affection, and yet..."Practically her brother."
Her chest tightened at the memory of his words. Sarah pressed her forehead against the wall, willing herself to breathe; to be sensible. He was her dearest friend and her anchor.
With a soft, bitter laugh, she gathered her skirts and turned toward the stairs. Her footsteps were light, but her heart felt unbearably heavy. She had survived worse. Surely, she could survive this unfamiliar ache in her chest.
Chapter 4
If there was one thingmore dangerous than turning your back on Benjamin Weston near an open body of water, it was following two women into a lace and jewelry shop and hoping to make a quick escape. Matthew leaned against the doorframe of the tiny Bond Street boutique, arms crossed, trying to ignore the tinkle of laughter coming from the far side of the room, and also the fact that Grace and Sarah had now been debating the merits of two nearly identical lace trims for at least ten minutes.
“Remind me,” he said, glancing at Benjamin standing beside him, “how I allowed myself to be dragged into this.”
“You volunteered.” Benjamin didn’t look up from the tray of cufflinks he was absentmindedly sorting through. “Sarah and Grace said they wanted to look at ribbon, and you offered to come along.”
“I was lied to,” Matthew muttered.
“Ribbon always leads to lace. Lace leads to jewelry. You are old enough to know the pattern by now.” Before Matthew could reply, a burst of laughter echoed from across the shop. Grace and Sarah were bent over a glass case of necklaces, whispering behind gloved hands. “Should we go investigate?” Benjamin asked, stepping forward.
They joined the girls at the case, and inside, rows of delicate chains and pendants glinted beneath the glass. One caught the light especially well—a fine silver necklace with a sapphire nestled at the center, surrounded by tiny stars etched into the setting. “Oh, that one,” Grace said, pointing. “It’s different.” Sarah tilted her head. “It’s bold. I like it.”
Benjamin leaned in dramatically, taking Grace’s hand in his. “You, my love, need no adornment. No gem could rival the radiance of your countenance.” Grace snorted. “Good heavens, Benjamin.” Sarah arched a brow at Matthew. “Promise me, that you will never make a habit of saying such things to a woman.”
“I think I would rather drown,” he said flatly.
Benjamin clutched his chest. “Ther is no appreciation for romance in this world.”
“You made a mockery of your own words the moment you laughed at them, “ Matthew said, but he was smiling too. The shopgirl hovered nearby, eager to assist, but Grace stepped back, her gaze lingering on the necklace for just a moment longer before shaking her head. “We should go,” she said. “We’ve a list to finish and my feet are already protesting.” They filed back into the street, and Benjamin tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Next stop: gloves. If we survive without incident, I’m commissioning a portrait of myself as a hero.”
Matthew fell in step beside Sarah, who was uncharacteristically quiet. “Are you mourning the lace you didn’t buy?” he asked. She looked up at him, startled. “What?”
“You look like someone who’s lost something dear.”
She shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. “No. I’m just thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It usually is.” Their eyes met for a moment; just long enough for the warmth of it to settle between them. Then Sarah looked away, adjusting her bonnet as the wind picked up. Matthew shoved his hands in his coat pockets and said nothing more. But for the first time that day, he wasn’t quite so eager for the outing to end.
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The late afternoon sun poured like molten gold over Edenfield’s gardens, gilding the stone paths and brushing the treetops in lazy strokes of light. From the open windows of the drawing room, the sounds of celebration drifted on the breeze in the form of clinking glasses and low laughter. Sarah sat alone on the low stone wall near the kitchen garden, twisting a sprig of rosemary between her fingers.
Inside, Benjamin and Grace had just announced their engagement. There had been toasts, cheerful tears, and a flurry of plans. Somewhere in the commotion, it was decided there would be a ball and, without her consent, that Sarah would make her debut at the same event. A double celebration, they called it. To Sarah, it felt like something else entirely.
The door creaked open behind her, but she didn’t need to look. Matthew’s presence settled beside her like sunlight, warm, steady and familiar. “I suppose you’ve come to talk me into it,” Sarah muttered. “I came to sit,” Matthew replied, folding his hands in his lap. “But you can talk, if you’d like.” Sarah took a breath, the damp air settling like a weight in her chest. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the faint echo of laughter from the house.
“You know,” Matthew said quietly, “you will steal London’s heart without even trying.” Sarah scoffed. “Not if they find me barefoot in the pond first.” His smile curved slowly. “They won’t. Not unless you lead them there yourself.”
She glanced sideways at him, but his gaze was fixed on the horizon. “What if they look at me and only see what I’m not?” Matthew said nothing for a moment, just turned to look at her with that calm, unwavering gaze that had steadied her more times than she could count. “Then let them look.” He said softly. “The people who matter will see you. And believe me, you are someone worth seeing.”
Before his words had time to fully settle, he rose to his feet and offered her his hand. “Come on, Lizzy. If you leave your mother unattended much longer, she will be planning to have you paraded about like a peacock in lace and feathers.”
Sarah wrinkled her nose but took his hand, rising from the wall. As they walked back toward the house, side by side, Sarah lifted her gaze to the deepening sky where the first stars had begun to blink awake. Change was coming, but maybe she was ready to meet it.
