Sarah Black lifted the delicate teacup to her lips and sipped the sweet berry tea. One could almost imagine sitting in a proper dining room in a proper hotel in Barrie, Ontario.
Mrs. Clumpit’s artistic flare showed in her bouquet of dried wildflowers. Though they are nothing like the flowers that grow in Ontario. Sarah sighed and set her teacup on its saucer. One should focus on one’s present situation, not the past.
She blinked and lifted her gaze across the restaurant. Several vacant tables made the room feel cold and empty. Perhaps it was just the late hour of the morning, but she could not help but feel her neighbors were avoiding her. She supposed her behavior of late was not so congenial. She must have looked a fright when she came in last night. And then to blither on about mother the way she did. She blushed and ran her finger along the edge of her cup.
On the other side of the dining room sat a man whose features reminded her of Lord Dunsbury. His height equaled the lord’s and the unmistakable chiseled jaw— so strong. So powerful. Not to mention the blond hair with red hues. Heat rose up the back of her neck. He was the most handsome man she had ever known.
Her fist tightened around her serviette. Perhaps dwelling on the past was not such a bad thing at a time like this. Lord Dunsbury had provided her with many happy times. She stretched her fingers and smoothed the cloth on her lap. After all, in times of adversity, such as what Joab and she had endured, shouldn’t one remember the good things in life?
The man smiled at her.
Her heart fluttered like the butterflies that Lord Dunsbury had released in her father’s cornfield—a token of his undying love, he had said. The stranger’s pale face and blond hair could very well have been the lord’s but for the braid.
Tipping his head and smiling like the lord, the man rose from his seat. “May I have the pleasure of introducing myself to you?”
Wasn’t that what Lord Dunsbury had said the morning she first met him along Shanty Bay? He looked so handsome in his straw hat and black cane with a gold topper. However, her father had thought him too forward. “Sir?”
The stranger glided across the room and sat in the chair before her. He then proceeded to pull his gloves off, one finger at a time.
Her breath caught in her throat. That was the very thing Lord Dunsbury would do.
How could he know she came from there? “Yes.”
He lifted his chin and smiled. “After all you’ve been through, I’m sure you wish you’d married Lord Dunsbury.”
Sarah studied her gloved hands. How could this stranger possibly think these things when he didn’t know her? And, oh yes, how she did long for home. “Sir, what would I know of Lord Dunsbury?”
He leaned forward across the table and whispered, “Butterflies and midnight skies.”
Butterflies and midnight skies. Lord Dunsbury had breathed those very words into her ear that evening, in the cornfield, behind the farm. Where he released the butterflies. The freedom of my soul and the sky the depth of my love, he had said.
Her body grew warm with the thought and then suddenly cold. She slipped her hand across her neck. Lord Drake Dunsbury proposed that evening. What would have become of her had she said yes?
“A life of luxury in a townhouse in London, England.”
“Pardon me?” Lord Drake Dunsbury had intended for them to live in his home in Belgravia, London, but how could this man know that?
“The lord would have made you a lady.”
Sarah looked away, but the image was too strong to suppress.
There stood Drake, looking so very gallant in his white wool trousers and navy blue vest. His double-breasted jacket hung off his finger, and he swung it to the rhythm of the romantic melody he hummed.
She twirled her parasol, a pink one with white pompoms. She felt so pretty standing before him, draped in the light of a setting sun.
Earlier, they had ridden along the shores of Kempenfelt Bay, laughing and relishing each other’s company. His eyes twinkled, and every move, every gesture, one of refined upbringing mingled with love. Or what she thought was love.
After releasing the butterflies, Drake sacrificed his white trousers to bend on one knee. “Sarah Sperling, it would give me great pleasure if you would be my wife.”
She looked away, across the field to a humble, yet neat farm. A neat white picket fence outlined the yard that surrounded a well-kept red brick house. The lush green grass augmented the red roses that graced the walls of the house. Mr. Black’s farm, Joab’s father.
Her heart skipped. Joab’s loyalty ran deep. His faithfulness he proved daily throughout their school years together. Even as a young man, he remained her closest and dearest friend. It was through his tender counsel she had come to know the peace of God. No one cared for her as Joab did.
Lord Dunsbury was of the past. Joab had become her future.
She set her gaze on the man who now sat at the table across from her. “Lord Dunsbury was a pompous fool.”
The man toyed with a serviette. “But he would provide you with everything you ever desired.”
“And what do you know of my desires?”
He leaned forward. “More than you are willing to admit.”
She stared at the door. Indeed, Lord Dunsbury could have provided her with everything she thought she desired. His gifts. Oh what wonderful gifts. A thoroughbred horse, a pearl necklace, a jade statue from China—she had swooned at each one.
Her hand traced the line of her throat where the sapphire pendant the lord gave her for her birthday once rested. She loved sapphires.
“My darling,” Drake’s deep voice had rolled with passion, “this sapphire is but a mere replica of your eyes.”
Her neck had tingled as he closed the clasp.
“This is a small token of what I hope someday to give to you.” Then he had settled beside her and opened a photo album. Flipping through it, he had showed her the splendor of his home in London and his spacious estate outside Exeter.
She had nearly given in to him that night, but Joab had come.
“Joab is a religious bigot.”
Startled, Sarah snapped her attention back to the man across the table. “Pardon me?”
He raised his eyebrows, and a sly smile arose upon his lips. “I didn’t say anything.”
But she could have sworn he did. Those were the very words Drake had said after Joab left that night.
The stranger tapped the table. “Lord Dunsbury is visiting Premier Frederick William Haultain in Calgary.”
Sarah clutched her serviette.
“I know he would love to see you. In fact, one might say he sent me here to find you. It would be good for you to get away from this place and become the lady you were meant to be.”
Lord Dunsbury was no longer a part of her life. She fumbled for her purse. He was cruel. She stood. He could not see the value of anyone but himself.
“I’ve spoken to him recently, and I know he would gladly take you home.”
Home. That sounded so good.
She straightened and directed her gaze into the stranger’s eyes. “Home is with Joab.”
What a fool she had been. She stepped away. Joab had given her a full life, but more than that, he had been her spiritual leader. She hurried to the door. No one could replace that. God help her, she would not make the mistake of deserting him again.