“I did. Most refreshing. Especially after a night with little sleep,” she added with a smile, referring to the ball the previous night.
“Yes. Quite so,” Sarah agreed, feeling self-conscious. The memories of the kiss flooded her mind vividly. It had been on the very terrace where the breakfast was taking place.
“So pleased you are joining us,” Caroline greeted her guests warmly, appearing to relieve Sarah of the awkward task. “You can find beverages and light pastries here, and there are more substantial foods on tables under the tree, where the lawn games will take place,” she added, gesturing to the garden and lawns close to the terrace.
“How charming. You do organize everything so well,” Victoria told Caroline warmly.
“Thank you,” Caroline said with a grin.
Sarah followed Victoria and James down to the lawn, where they perused the games set out for the guests. People were arriving on the terrace, the sound of talk and laughter loud behind them. Sarah was glad to get away from the larger crowd. The noise of so many people talking and laughing wore on her frayed nerves and she was tense with the fear of what the duchess would do if she found her at the party.
“Do you play quoits, dear?” Victoria asked her fondly. Sarah blinked, startled out of her thoughts.
“Sometimes,” Sarah replied, then blushed.
“An honest answer,” Victoria said with a smile. “My aim is not particularly good, and I think after a morning indulging in Caroline’s delightful food and drink it will only be worse.”
Sarah chuckled. She genuinely liked the woman, whose kindness and openness set everyone at their ease.
They chatted a little about lawn games, discussing which ones they enjoyed and which they disliked, and then Victoria and her husband drifted onto the terrace to sample the pastries and tea. Sarah stayed on the lawn. The thought of going up to the terrace, where the duke or his mother might be, was uncomfortable. Part of her wished that she had gone back up to her room. She did not belong down in the garden with the guests. Despite Victoria’s friendly, welcoming attitude, that terrible feeling of being an imposter lingered—the product of the duchess’ cruel words mingling with Henry’s mistaking her for the duke’s former wife.
I really am nobody,she reminded herself firmly.A failure, like Papa said.
Her heart sank at the thought. It was painful, like something physical stabbing at her. Sarah took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sudden pain. She went over to the refreshments table, turning her back on the crowded terrace. The sunshine was warm and golden where it poured onto the lawn and she started to relax.
She was hungry and the sight of cold pie and sandwiches drew her to the table, the delicious scent of food making her mouth water. She thanked the footman for a slice of fruit pie and wandered off across the lawn to eat it. Some of the younger guests had drifted onto the lawn where they were playing Battledore and Shuttlecock. Sarah could hear their laughter and she watched them idly, letting their antics take her mind off herconcerns. She ate the pie and drifted back to the table to give her plate and cake-fork back to the footman.
As she reached the table, she froze.
The duchess was there.
The woman saw her, her gaze locking on Sarah’s, her eyes full of malice. Nobody was there—even the footman behind the table had drifted off, taking the opportunity to return some of the dirty plates to the kitchen. Sarah rooted to the spot, frozen in fear.
“You,” the duchess hissed. She walked the few paces across to where Sarah stood. She addressed her and kept her voice a low, malicious whisper. “You should not be here. You should not be near my son. You are nothing but a scandalous, low wretch with no reputation. How dare you think you can set your sights at my son? You do not belong in our circle. You will only do him harm. And Henry too.”
Sarah tensed. She had been about to argue, her pride flaring at the suggestion that she was deliberately pursuing the duke. But at the mention of Henry, the words shriveled inside her. She slumped. It was as though the duchess had slapped her.
You are nothing. Your association with the family will hurt Henry.
She winced. She knew it was true. She looked down at the lawn, avoiding the duchess’ eyes.
“Get yourself hence,” the duchess hissed.
Sarah glared at her. She might agree with the woman—she might know in her heart that she could only bring harm to Henry—but she would not be spoken to as though she was a troublesome pest, something to be shooed away.
“I am a guest here, as you are,” she said tightly, straightening her spine. “My cousin invited me here, as she invited you. I will leave when Ichooseto.IfI choose to.” She held the woman’s gaze for a second, and was gratified to see the malicious starewaver just for a second. Then she turned and walked towards the stairs, her spine ramrod-straight. She glided up the stairs and across the terrace, and then into the hallway inside. She leaned against the wall. Her hands were shaking.
“God,” she whispered. “Help me.”
The confrontation with the duchess had sapped the last of her remaining strength.
She could barely stand up, the exhaustion of caring for Henry mingling with the intense fear and dislike that had flooded her in the duchess’ presence. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. She managed to stand up without the need for the wall’s support. She took a step to the stairs.
“Sarah? Sarah, dear?” Caroline’s voice called to her from the door that led to the terrace. Sarah tensed, turning around to face the door.
“Caroline,” she managed to say in a shaky voice. “I feel a little unwell.” She wobbled a little on her feet.
“Sarah?” Caroline frowned, her eyes widening. “Are you sure you do not need something? Should we summon the physician?”
