“There is no need,” Sarah said gently, her own lips lifting at the mention of the playful boy. “No harm was done. He is a very polite child. He apologised several times himself already.”
The duke grinned.
“He is a very polite child,” he agreed, a soft smile tugging his lips. “He can also be a little high-spirited. Mayhap he is sometimestoohigh-spirited,” he added, sounding a little embarrassed.
“He is just a child,” Sarah said firmly. “All children are high-spirited at times.”
The duke’s brow shot up and Sarah tensed, thinking that perhaps she had overstepped the boundaries of politeness. But the smile that lit his face was warm and genuine.
“You are right,” he said with a chuckle. “I was certainly high-spirited as a child. My nursemaid despaired of me. And my little brother Charles no less so.”
Sarah giggled. “Two boys? I am sure you two contrived all manner of mischief.”
The duke nodded. “We certainly did. But Charles is six years my junior, so it was many years before we could make mischief on an equal footing. I think our tutors and parents praisedHeaven for that fact.” His eyes were sparkling as if he recalled amusing memories.
“Do you recall something of what you did?” she asked.
“Oh, all sorts. I remember one day when we climbed the roof. My parents spotted us when we were heading towards the upstairs windows. Mama almost fainted in shock. The garden staff were summoned with ladders, but by that time we were already able to scramble in through an upper window. It was a terrific lark.” He chuckled.
“I imagine you were banned from climbing the roof?” Sarah asked with a grin.
“After that, certainly. I think they never imagined we’d be so foolish. The roof was quite steep and slate tiled.” He chuckled again. “They hadn’t imagined we’d be so naughty. A pair of little imps, we were then.”
Sarah had to laugh. “I imagine that is true,” she replied with a grin.
The duke grinned back. “That is a forthright answer,” he replied.
Sarah blushed. “Pray, excuse me,” she murmured. “I have been many years out of adult company, but the children of our household staff were often about, and sometimes they talked to me. I tend to speak my mind as they do.”
“Pray, do not apologise,” the duke said at once. “It is refreshing to meet someone who speaks her mind.”
His voice was warm as honey when he spoke, his eyes intense where they gazed into her own.
Sarah’s cheeks went bright red. Her heart thudded rapidly, her entire body flushing with heat. “I thank you, Your Grace,” she managed to murmur.
His gaze held hers and Sarah’s cheeks burned even more with the same strange heat. She looked down at her toes, the feelingso overwhelming that she needed to look away and break the intense gaze.
“Son? There you are!” An imperious voice rang out. “I was looking for you for an age. Come! Dinner is about to be served.”
Sarah looked up at the sound of the voice, just in time to see a flare of anger cross the duke’s cool blue gaze. He glared at the dowager duchess, who had appeared by his side, but then quickly masked his anger and turned to Sarah.
“Pray, excuse me, Miss Brooke,” he murmured.
Sarah inclined her head, bobbing a brief curtsey. “Of course, Your Grace,” she replied, surprised by his polite words.
The duke turned away, his arm claimed by the dowager duchess, who was ostensibly supporting herself by leaning on him, but it seemed as though she was leading him into the dining room, away from Sarah.
She has a terrible opinion of me, and she makes no attempt to hide it,Sarah thought with a mix of anger and sorrow. The woman’s cruelty and rudeness were like salt in the wounds to her pride and reminded her that she was far from a debutante, but still unknown in society. She breathed in deeply, tried to set aside the hurt and pain and joined the group as they drifted into the dining room.
Chapter 6
“Sarah? Sarah! There you are. A moment, if it pleases you?” Caroline’s voice was a loud whisper in the upstairs hallway.
Sarah whipped round in surprise. She had been standing in the doorway of the drawing room, the light from the fire and the lamps casting a dancing orange glow over the soft muted dark of the corridor. She had left the dinner early, hurrying upstairs to escape Lady Clairwood and her condemnatory stares across the table. She shivered as she recalled the dinner.
The Duke of Clairwood had been seated opposite her, and that would have been difficult enough to manage as it was—the occasional intense stares that he leveled at her, the uncomfortable but exhilarating feeling of his gaze—was confusing. But added to that was the dowager duchess beside him, constantly making reference to the family’s elevated status and their London circles that included the Prince Regent’s own brother. And that was unbearably hard.
She turned to face Caroline, who gestured towards the drawing room.
