He reached the doors and drew a breath, half-expecting that the terrace would have become as crowded as the ballroom during the dance. But, as he stepped out, relief filled him and he exhaled deeply.
Nobody else had yet ventured out, and the terrace stretched out, pale gray and silent under the moonlight, before him. The surface was tiled with flagstones that were a little damp and caught the starlight here and there. There was a tree growing close to the edge and the leaves whispered in the cool night air. Robert crossed from the door to the railing and leaned heavily on the wrought iron, feeling the cold through his shirtsleeves.
The scent of damp earth and wet leaves drifted up from the garden, cold and invigorating. He drew in a deep breath, thesmell refreshing him like a glass of cool water. He could hear muted conversation drifting from the ballroom, but the sound was dampened by the distance and the rustling of the breeze and he felt himself relax for the first time all night.
As he leaned there, he heard something. It sounded like the rustling leaves, but then he realized it was footsteps and he turned and drew in a breath of surprise.
Paused in the doorway, her head turned slightly to the side as if she gazed round to check for intrusion, her soft profile caught by the candlelight and her hair glowing in the backlighting of the doorway, was Miss Brooke.
Chapter 11
Sarah gave a small gasp as she saw the figure leaning on the rails. She had not expected anyone to be outside, and yet the tall figure of a man lounged against the railing. His gaze moved to hers and she drew in another small, shocked breath as she recognized the man who stood there, his long, firm-jawed face half-lit by the light that spilled from the ballroom.
“Your Grace!” she whispered.
Her heart was thudding louder than the musicians playing music, louder than the sound of laughter from the ballroom. She fought the urge to press her hand to her chest, sure that the duke could hear it.
He smiled. His eyes widened in surprise and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Miss Brooke!” he greeted her. “Were you escaping the heat?” he asked.
Sarah chuckled. “The heat and the noise,” she told him. To her surprise, he nodded.
“It is very noisy in there,” he agreed.
Caroline had mentioned that the duke had remained aloof from society for many years. It was unsurprising that he understood about the oppressive noise and how strange it all was after years away. She smiled and nodded.
“So many people! Here it is pleasantly quiet.”
He nodded, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. He was so handsome, Sarah thought, blushing wildly. His dark blonde hair was swept back from his brow, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. His lips were well-molded, his chin firm and his nose long, but somehow elegant. Overall, his face was long and well-formed, lit from within with an ironic, clever humor. Her heart beat faster, her blood rushing in her ears.
“I think one thing few members of the ton tend to notice is how much noise we all make.” He chuckled.
Sarah grinned. “I imagine not, Your Grace.”
His eyes twinkled. Sarah gazed up at him. He moved up so that she could lean on the railing beside him. Breathlessly, feeling excited, she did so. He was only six inches away. She gazed out across the grounds, watching the way the shadows shifted as the small breeze shivered across the garden.
“It’s a strange thing to say, but does it not seem odd, all of this pomp and ceremony, after time away?”
Sarah blinked and nodded. She had the identical thought herself when first entering the ballroom, but she had not suspected that anyone she would meet there would think as she did.
“It does. I suppose that life is really very simple. It seems odd that people make it so complicated.”
He laughed. “Is life simple?” The question sounded almost bitter, but almost yearning at once. Sarah tilted her head thoughtfully.
“Yes. I think it is. The world is a beautiful place, and people are mostly good—not saints or sinners, but mostly not harmful. Yet how often do we take time to appreciate the beauty around us? And how often do we fight and strive against our fellows?” It was a thought that had occurred to her when she sat sketching near the ruins of what had either been a hostel or a manor.
Beside her, the duke drew in a breath. She thought at first that she had offended him, and she hastened to think of an apology, but before she could say further, he spoke.
“I think that is very wise. I would wish that we all might live a little more in the way that you suggest.”
“I do not mean to...” Sarah hastily began, wishing to clarify that she had not meant to be prescriptive about any particular view or way of living, but a voice spoke from behind them.
“Brother! There you are!”
The duke whipped round, and Sarah drew in a gasp. While it was certainly not immoral for the duke and herself to stand together talking on the terrace at a private ball, it would seem a trifle odd, or a trifle salacious, for many.
She saw the duke’s eyes widen and then narrow again, his expression softening as he recognized the woman standing there.
“Victoria,” he murmured, addressing Lady Egerton by name. Sarah slumped in relief, seeing the friendly woman there.
