Sarah was rather more understanding about Lechton’s about-face than Nate. “He betrayed you, Nate, but surely it makes you feel better to know it was in order to save your life? Indeed, when I think about what might have happened, I am glad they thought to send you into the navy, where you were far, far away when I refused to co-operate with their plans to marry me off.”
She shuddered. If her father and grandfather had decided to make her a widow, if she had been presented with Nate’s body, would she have been strong enough to stand out against them? In those early days, she had been sure he would return; certain that he loved her and that love would conquer everything.
She smiled at the thought. And now it seemed she had been right.
Nate did not look convinced. “What you and Elias went through... I should have been here to help you, Sarah. To support and love you.”
“You are here now. And I want to know all about you, Nate. Where have you been? What have you done? What made you decide to become a doctor?”
Conversation had been easy for them from the beginning, and today Sarah found that hadn’t changed. He answered those questions and asked his own, which led to more questions from them both, as the minutes flew by.
Nate drove them into the far reaches of Hyde Park, away from the fashionable carriage way. Two of her uncle’s guard kept pace at a distance, but didn’t disturb them. However, they were not entirely left alone. They were interrupted frequently by acquaintances wanting to greet Sarah and stare at Nate.
Still, they had each related the major elements of their separate journeys to this place and time when the sun touched the horizon and they woke up to the fact that the day was over and cold night was approaching.
Nate turned the horses for the gate nearest to Winshire House, and set them trotting, and the guard closed in to follow. “May I see you again tomorrow, my love?” Nate asked.
Long ago, Sarah had thrown her heart over the moon, and run off to marry Nate. For years, she’d mourned that decision, believing he’d played her false. But it wasn’t true. He had been trustworthy then; he was trustworthy now. It was time to take another leap in faith.
“If Uncle James is free tonight, do you think Lady Lechton would mind two more for dinner? I think we should discuss our plans to announce our marriage.”
The horses checked as Nate tightened his hands, turning to her with such joy and heat in his eyes that she nearly threw herself into his arms, and only refrained because she looked behind her at that moment and saw the guardsmen, and other riders, heading home in the gathering dusk. They were in a public place, but soon enough, they would be alone. Her centre melted at the thought.
“It is time, do you not think?” she asked.
“I promised to wait until you are ready,” he reminded her, setting the horses back into an easy pace towards the gate. His voice vibrated with delight as he added, “And if you are ready, my love, I can only thank God for it, for I cannot sleep or think for wanting you.”
The dinner went well, Sarah thought. Lord Lechton was beside himself with glee at the sudden expansion of his family, and in the mood to be expansively hospitable. The others at the table had to intervene several times to keep him from talking about the marriage and Elias in front of the servants.
When the last course was served, Nate stepped in, suggesting that they dismiss the servants for the time being, and Lechton leapt at the notion. “Yes! Yes indeed, my boy. Barker, that will be all. We shall serve ourselves. I will let you know when you can clear!”
The butler bowed and ushered the footmen from the room, shutting the door behind them, and the true business of the evening began.
“When shall we announce the marriage?” Lechton demanded. “Can I meet my grandson tomorrow? You shall move in with us, Lady Bentham. We have the room, do we not, Lady Lechton? My grandson shall like sharing a nursery with his aunts.”
Uncle James took the conversation in hand, before Nate could speak the hasty words Sarah could see on his tongue. “You will wish Elias to be accepted as your legitimate grandson with as little scandal as possible, Lechton, so we shall proceed with caution this week, sowing the seeds. We shall make the formal announcement at a ball I shall hold at Winshire House at the end of the week. I have already written to my sister and sister-in-law asking them to come to London to give the young couple their support.”
Lechton took a gulp of his wine as he thought about that. “Yes. Yes, of course, Your Grace. I see your point.”
Sarah tried the same calm, firm tone to address the other issue. “Nate and I have not yet discussed where we will live, Lord Lechton, but we will, of course, enjoy visiting family.”
Lechton dismissed her remark with an airy wave. “You are my son’s wife. You will live with me, of course.”
“No,” Nate said. Just that. Nothing more.
Lechton purpled. “Now look here, Bentham.”
Nate put up a hand in a stop gesture. “We will not require your support, if that is your concern. And our living arrangements are not up for discussion, my lord. Sarah and I will make our own decision.”
“I agree,” Uncle James said. “You have lost seven years together, and your families owe you their support to live your lives in the way you choose.”
Lechton subsided at that, and Uncle James moved smoothly to discussing what activities the Benthams, as he called Sarah and Nate, might engage in during the next few days.
By the time they left the dining table, Sarah and Nate had agreed that they would talk to Elias together the next day, and introduce him to Lord and Lady Lechton afterwards. They would attend the Opera in the Duke of Winshire’s box tomorrow night, and ride in Hyde Park each day for the rest of the week.
Further, at Sarah’s suggestion, she and Nate would visit the Tremaways to explain their history before the announcement at the ball. That should help to make peace between Tremaway and Lechton.
The ball at the end of the week would be a glittering finale to the year. Uncle James was certain they would get excellent attendance, and Sarah didn’t doubt it. Her mother and aunt, and her godmother, the Duchess of Haverford, would see to that.
Once they were settled in the drawing room with the tea tray, the conversation turned to proving the validity of the marriage. Nate described his conversation with Wakefield. “We may have results from Oxfordshire in time for the ball,” he said, “but I don’t know how long it will take to get news of my cousin.”
Lechton’s brows shot up. “But I can tell you that. Winshire put pressure on our mutual cousin who was earl before me to get rid of the man. He was only a curate, you know. I lost track of him for a while, but the solicitors found him again when the previous earl died. He is my heir after you, you know. After Elias, now.”
“You said you know where he is?” Nate asked.
“Why, not more than an hour’s drive from here, in the village of Hounswood. He is curate to the vicar of St Chad’s. I... um... we do not talk. But he would talk to you, Nate. He always felt that you were in the right back then, and were badly treated.”
Sarah could see Nate swallowing a sharp answer before he asked, politely, for his cousin’s direction, and Lechton went off to his study to find it.
“What an astounding coincidence, Nate. St Chad’s in Hounswood sponsors the training centre I told you about: The Theodora Foundation. I might have met him myself if I had taken the women Charlotte rescued to deliver them to the village. But apparently Aldridge is going to Kent, and has promised to detour past Hounswood, so their travel is all organised.”
Sarah and Nate left the Lechton townhouse not long after. “Shall we drop you off, Bentham?” Uncle James asked.
Sarah took a deep breath and said, “Can we go past Nate’s rooms so he can get a change for the morning, Uncle James? I would like him to come home with me.” By the time she had finished the sentence, her face was burning, and the heat had spread even to her ears and her throat.
But Nate’s broad smile and the warmth in his eyes made it all worthwhile, and Uncle James didn’t turn a hair. “Certainly.” And he turned to give the instruction to his coachman.
The servants would not talk. Their enemies had ensured that. In the last two and a half years, Sarah’s cousin Sutton and Yousef, her uncle's aide, had tested and confirmed the loyalty of everyone who worked in one of their households. Not everyone in England approved of a mixed-race ducal family, and they had suffered everything from gossip to assassination attempts.
Here, in Sarah's own home, she and Nate could begin their marriage again without word leaking before they were ready.
Even so, she led him, her hand in his, up a secondary staircase to the suite she shared with her sister. As soon as she opened the door, she knew Charlotte was home early. The wrap Charlotte had worn was thrown over the back of a sofa, and the door to Charlotte's chamber was open. She could not see the bed from this angle, but Charlotte’s maid Clarke moved around the room, snuffing the candles.
Sarah drew Nate into the room and shut the door behind them. "I will just check on my sister. Would you care for a brandy?" She gestured to the decanters. "Help yourself. I won't be moment."
"Do you wish me to go?" he asked.
She had already taken two paces across the room but at that she turned back. She reached up to his face with her palm, kissing his other cheek. "I want you to stay. Will you stay, Nate?"
His eyes devoured her as he nodded, and the heat rose in her again. Charlotte. I am going to check on Charlotte. She stiffened her shaking knees, and crossed the room to Charlotte's chamber.
"Her ladyship is right poorly tonight," Clarke whispered. "The usual trouble."
The heap of blankets on the bed shifted. "Is that you, Sarah?" Her voice was barely louder than the maid's. When Charlotte's indisposition approached, it began with a headache that only worsened as the other cramps and aches descended upon her. "You are home early."
"And I have a guest, my dear. Nate is with me. Clarke, Lord Bentham is in the sitting room. He will be staying the night." The maid's training held good; her reaction confined to widened eyes and a dropped jaw that she closed immediately. "Congratulate me. You are the first outside of immediate family to know that I am married.”
Clarke curtsied in her confusion, and stammered, “I am about done here, my lady." Her head came up at a knock on the outside door. "That will be Lady Charlotte's brick." She curtsied again. "Please excuse me, my lady."
Sarah moved to where she could see Charlotte's face. "Is there anything I can do, beloved? I can send Nate away if you need me.” Usually, Charlotte wanted nothing more than to be left alone with a hot brick, a few drops of laudanum, and a darkened room.
Yes, there she was, shaking her head and wincing at the pain. “Go have your reunion, dearest. Love you.”
Clarke was at her elbow again. “I’ll look after her, my lady.” She cast a glance back towards the sitting room door. “You go to your husband.”
With a last glance at her poor sister, she did as she was told. Charlotte was a martyr to the woman’s trouble; had been ever since that terrible infection after the incident they never spoke about. Fortunately, her courses were not frequent or regular, and the symptoms became bearable again after a day or two.
Furthermore, Sarah usually left her to the tender ministrations of Clarke, who was, after all, with her all the time. It was foolish to feel guilty about welcoming Nate to her bed when Charlotte was in pain and miserable, and would never know the joy and pleasure of being one flesh with a husband.
Well, and are you going to spoil your life—and that of your son and husband—because you cannot improve mine? That’s what Charlotte would say if Sarah expressed such thoughts to her. She never complained. Indeed, she compared herself to those whom Sarah rescued, and insisted she had a wonderful and privileged life: wealthy, independent, and surrounded by family who loved her.
“Is she very ill?” Nate asked. She had drifted to where he stood by the sideboard, his bag of clothes still slung over one shoulder. He put down his glass of brandy to brush his fingers across the furrows between her brows. “Does she need you? Do not feel you have to—"
Sarah slipped her arms around his waist and rested her face against his waistcoat. “She has taken something to help her sleep, and her maid is with her. Hold me for a moment, Nate.”
He had wrapped her in his embrace even before she had asked. “Gladly.”
Sarah felt the tension drain from her as they hugged. She was where she belonged. She pulled back and he released her instantly, watching her as if for a cue. She gave it to him. “Pour me a small brandy, too, Nate, then bring the glasses through to my room.”
Her own maid waited, her mouth firmly shut but her eyes full of questions.
“Wilson,” Sarah said, “my husband Lord Bentham will be joining me tonight. Please fetch my hot water now, and then that will be all for the night. Oh! And you had better knock before you bring the water in. I am sure, Wilson, I do not need to tell you and Clarke: not a word to the other servants.”
Wilson nodded, her eyes wider than ever. “Shall I undo your buttons, Lady Sarah—Lady Bentham, I mean?”
Nate reached Sarah’s side, and handed her a glass. “Thank you, Wilson, but I shall be maid for my wife tonight.” He kissed Sarah’s forehead, and Wilson blinked several times before bobbing a curtsey and stammering, “Yes, my lord. My lady. Um.” She bobbed again. “Every happiness. Hot water. Yes.” And still bobbing, she hurried from the room, closing the door behind her.
“Poor Wilson. I am afraid she might burst of curiosity.”
Nate ran his finger down her cheek and then slid a hand down her arm and across onto her breast, driving what she had been about to say completely out of her head.
His voice was husky as he commented, “She should knock before she comes in, should she?”
Sarah sipped her brandy, trying to pretend she was not going up in flames. “I hoped that was a good idea,” she told him.
He sipped his own before answering, his hand continuing its explorations, shaping her breast and then moving to the other. “An excellent idea. But I think I should not strip you naked quite yet?”
She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. He was bold, this older, more confident Nate. “Nor I, you.” She managed the retort, and her voice barely shook.
“Perhaps a kiss, then?” he asked. His hand slid around her back to hold her firm against him, and his lips descended on hers.
For seven years, memories of their kisses and embraces had fuelled her dreams. Tender at first, almost tentative, this kiss set those memories in the shade from the first, and as the heat rose and his free hand pressed her closer; as she spiralled into a space out of time and place where nothing existed but him, the memories slipped away to be replaced by new ones.
Somehow, the glasses were gone, and both of his hands were on her, and hers on him, untying and stripping off his cravat, fumbling undone the buttons of his waistcoat, pulling his shirt from his pantaloons so she could slide her hands up under it, to stroke and caress his warm firm skin, silk over steel, much more of it than back when he had been a skinny youth just shooting up from boyhood and still inches short of his adult height.
Such random thoughts surfaced and drifted away as he released her for long enough to wriggle out of his waistcoat, pull the shirt over his head, all the while kissing her as if the touch of her lips were keeping him alive.
Then his hands were on her again, and he was kissing her neck and then lower. With her bodice now completely unfastened, her gown slipped down her body to pool around her feet, and she kicked free of it and curved her spine so he had room to continue to feast while she pressed the rest of her body to his.
The knock on the door was repeated twice before either of them surfaced enough to notice.
She left his arms reluctantly, and picked up a robe on the way to the door. “It will be Wilson with the hot water.”
He caught her arm; just a touch, but it was enough to stop her. “Will she be more likely to talk to the other servants about us if she knows the truth? Or if she doesn’t?”
Sarah shook her head. “Wilson will not talk. Not when I have asked her not to do so. But still...”
The knock sounded again, and Sarah opened the door, wide enough that Wilson could carry in the large jug of water. The maid’s eyes fixed on Nate’s naked torso and widened so far, the white showed all around the iris.
“I will just put this on the washstand, my lady. My lord.”
“Before you, go, Wilson, my husband and I wish to speak to you.”
Wilson slopped the water as she put the jug down. “I did not tell anyone, my lady. I will not.”
Sarah nodded. “I know. You have been a loyal servant to me these past two years, since the duke insisted that he could afford to give me and Charlotte a maid each. When I go to live with my husband, I shall still need a maid who is used to my ways and whom I know I can trust. Will you come with me, Wilson?”
“I am heir to an earl, if that helps,” Nate offered.
“I know, my lord. That is, the servants know you have been paying court to my lady. No one knows that you have wed her.”
“Seven years ago,” Sarah told her. “We were wed seven years ago, Wilson, and then torn apart by my father and grandfather, who sent Nate far away and told me our marriage was a lie. But now he is back and we are together again.”
It was the right note to take with a woman who loved horrid novels. Her eyes shone, and she pressed her hands together under her chin. “It is just like a story!” she breathed out.
“We need to tell Elias before we tell anyone else,” Sarah added. “Keep our secret, even within the house, until tomorrow afternoon, Wilson. After that, we will begin to let others know, and at the end of the week, His Grace plans to announce it to the whole of Society at a ball.”
“Ooooh!” Wilson was clearly thrilled to her core. “It is just like The Lost Little Lord. He is your son, then, my lady, and yours, my lord. The legitimate heir, stolen from his people and labouring in poverty! You can trust me, my lady. I will not say a word until you give me leave. Oh, the dear little boy!”
Dismissed, she floated from the room with a dreamy smile.
Nate chuckled. “I hope you plan for us to speak to Elias soon, my love, before your maid bursts.” He took her back into his arms and bent to kiss her ear and then behind it and down her throat.
Sarah, as she felt her robe slipping to the floor, retained enough sense to answer, “In the morning, Nate. We will go up to the nursery in the morning.”