She had to be brave. She had to flee the house before it was too late.
Her heart ached. She could not run away from Henry with no explanation. Caroline was an adult—if she discovered Sarah gone, a cursory note left to explain her whereabouts, it would not be so bad. But Henry was just a child—he deserved more than that. He needed more than that.
She would rather avoid facing the duke and telling him directly that she could not allow whatever was happening between them. She couldn’t say it. If she saw him, she would melt. If she melted, she would let him know she loved him. And if he loved her, then they would both doom Henry’s chances of a good life. Society would reject him, and she knew how powerful that could be. A person rejected from society lost more than just their peers. They lost their investment possibilities, their credibility, their future. They lost everything that made it possible to live the life that they would have lived.
“I cannot do that to Henry.”
She blinked, the tears starting. She felt her hands make fists as she fought to find the strength to do what she had to do. Buttons ran over, yipping and barking. He clearly sensed her distress. She bent down and lifted him to her chest, hugging him so tight that she stopped, lest she harm him.
“Shh, little fellow,” she said softly through her tears. “We can do this.”
She hugged him close and walked into the house, clutching the little puppy to her. With him in her arms, she could face Henry, could tell him the truth. Without Buttons, she would lose all sense of sanity.
She marched up to the bedroom. Guests were starting to emerge into the hallway, chatting quietly on their way to the breakfast-room. She walked past them, heading directly to Henry’s room. The door that led from the duke’s room was only one of the ways into the little bedroom, which was part of a guest-chamber. She knocked on the outer door, biting her lip. She had to talk to Henry now, before she lost all her strength—but what if he was asleep? She did not wish to wake him.
The door opened instantly. Mrs. Wellman appeared. She was frowning. “Miss Brooke?” she welcomed her in a friendly tone, despite the frown. “What brings you here?”
“I...is Henry awake?” she asked at once. “I wished to call on him.”
“He is awake,” Mrs. Wellman, said, her expression instantly more friendly. “Would you like to step in now?”
“Please,” Sarah agreed, her voice shaking. Buttons was in her arms, and he yipped with excitement the moment he realized where they were going. Sarah held onto him, tears forming in her eyes. She fought them back.
“Sarah!” Henry yelled. He had begun using her name while he was recovering, and she smiled to see him looking so well. He was dressed—he had not been out of bed except in necessity, for two days, and she delighted to see him so clearly feeling a bit better.
“Henry,” she greeted him as lightly as she could. “Someone wanted to visit you,” she added, putting Buttons on the bed. The little boy ran to the dog, throwing himself full-length on the bed and rolling with Buttons on the coverlet. The little dog was play-wrestling with him, grabbing the arm of his shirt and tugging in a playful tug-of-war that made Sarah chuckle even as the tears formed.
“Henry? Will you take breakfast in the breakfast-room?" Mrs. Wellman asked the boy. Sarah tensed. She did not know how toexplain to Mrs. Wellman that she wanted to talk with Henry on her own—she was sometimes there, sometimes not, when she spent time with Henry, but Sarah was not sure how a request to spend time alone with him would be taken up.
“No, Mrs. Wellman,” Henry said instantly: polite but surprisingly firm for so young a child. “I would like to stay here.”
Sarah let out a sigh of relief. Mrs. Wellman gestured to the door.
“I will go and fetch breakfast. Would you like something, Miss Brooke? A cup of tea?”
“Thank you,” Sarah said quickly. “But no. I will take breakfast later.”
“Of course, Miss.”
Mrs. Wellman withdrew, and Sarah gestured to Henry to sit down on the bed. He sat down, Buttons tussling with him again in a way that made him chuckle loudly.
“Henry,” Sarah said, unable to hold back her tears. “I need to tell you something.”
“What?” Henry asked at once. “Am I very sick?”
“No. No,” Sarah said quickly, amused despite the gravity of the situation. “No, dear. No, you’re not that sick. But I need to tell you that I am going home today.”
“What?” Henry gaped. “Sarah. I want you to stay.”
Sarah shook her head. She was crying now, unable to stop herself. She was fighting to hold onto her calm, quiet facade, but she could not do it. She would miss the child more than she could say and there was no way she could hide the truth.
“I cannot,” she said, sobbing despite herself. “I have to go back home. I need to get there quickly,” she lied.
“No,” Henry said firmly. “No. You cannot go. I need you.”
Sarah shook her head. “No, Henry. I have to. Buttons will stay. You will be happy if you have him,” she added. “He will havesuch fun here,” she explained, tears pouring down her face. She could not bear it.
“No,” Henry said again, shaking his head. “I need you too.”
