Page 65 of One Waltz with the Viscount

Henry shook his head and took Sophia by the arm. ‘Leave us alone. Do not try to contact us, do not even think about contacting the authorities. I will fight you every step of the way, and you have far much more to lose.’

Without waiting for his father’s answer, he turned and stalked out the door, ushering Sophia along in front of him.

Outside he felt a surge of elation followed by a deep feeling of dread. He was under no illusion that his father would leave them alone. The old man was stunned at the realisation that his past exploits were known, but when he had time to consider his options, Henry knew his father would lash out in retaliation. The key was to not be around when he did.

‘Come quickly,’ he said as they walked down the street. He was thankful when they rounded the corner to see the Shrewsbury carriage waiting for them, his friend’s anxious face peering out. Quickly he helped Sophia up inside, ignoring Shrewsbury’s puzzled look.

‘I’ll explain it to you later, right now we need to move.’

He loved his friend a little bit more as Shrewsbury rallied and thumped on the roof, calling out the window for the driver to take them home.

Chapter Twenty

Sarah smiled at the eldest of her charges, a fourteen-year-old girl who had impeccable manners, but underneath it all a wicked sense of humour. It had been difficult leaving London, and she wondered if her heart would ever recover, but being out here in the middle of the beautiful Kent countryside with the Huntley family was as soothing a place to rest and recuperate as she could hope for.

Her duties were not arduous. There were three Huntley children: Elizabeth, the oldest at fourteen, Georgina who was ten and little Annabelle who was only six. All three girls were keen musicians, and it was a pleasure to teach them. What was more, she did not have to wrangle all three at a time. The mornings were spent with the girls alternating through their other lessons and spending time with Sarah at the piano. In the afternoons they would come together to sing as Sarah took them through their scales, teaching them techniques to make their voices stronger and more harmonious.

She had been warned about the perils of living and working in someone else’s home, but her experience so far with the Huntley family was relatively painless. Her room was spacious and decently furnished at the top of the house, close to the nursery. It had lovely views out over the parkland, and every morning Sarah rose early and watched the deer frolic on the lawn in the early morning light.

She took her meals with Miss Wilson, the governess, and Mrs Renley, the housekeeper, and both were kind and friendly people. All in all, she could not ask for a better position. Every day she reminded herself to be thankful for what she had.

‘That is beautiful, Elizabeth,’ she said as her young charge finished the piece. ‘Just be a little careful of the timing in the middle section. Don’t rush it—this piece is made to be savoured, so linger over every note.’ She pointed out the part she was talking about and played it to the young girl. ‘Now you try.’

It was perfect the second time, and Sarah heaped praise on her pupil. Elizabeth in particular was talented as well as studious, never shying away from time at the piano.

‘Shall we play it again, or would you like to move on to something else?’

‘Can I play it again?’

‘Of course. I could listen to you play this all day.’

Sarah sat back, allowing Elizabeth to get herself set up and position her fingers on the piano keys. She had only just started when the door burst open and little Annabelle ran into the room.

‘There’s a carriage coming up the drive and Mama says it belongs to one of the wealthiest men in England,’ she squealed in excitement.

Elizabeth stopped playing and stood, immediately crossing to the window with her little sister. It was an idyllic life here in the Kent countryside, but Sarah got the impression the girls were a little starved of company their own age. She did not chastise Elizabeth for getting distracted from her music lesson, as she too wished to see who was visiting.

Sarah frowned as she recognised the gold crest on the side of the smartly painted black carriage. She blushed as she remembered the intimate moment she had shared with Henry inside that very carriage, when they had been unable to keep their hands off one another, despite knowing nothing could happen.

‘It’s Lord Shrewsbury’s carriage,’ Sarah murmured.

‘You know Lord Shrewsbury?’ Mrs Huntley said as she walked into the room, joining her daughters at the window as the carriage rolled to a stop.

Sarah cleared her throat before speaking, worried her voice might betray her emotion.

‘I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance whilst I was in London. He was very kind.’

Mrs Huntley raised an eyebrow but said no more.

‘Come away from the window, girls,’ she ordered, not wanting to be caught gawping by whoever stepped out. Elizabeth complied but Annabelle lingered, pressing her face against the glass.

Sarah watched, not daring to breathe as the carriage door opened and a young girl stepped out. Immediately she knew who it was—the family resemblance was uncanny, and she could have easily picked out Henry’s little sister from a room full of girls of a similar age.

Her heart began beating faster in her chest as Henry hopped down from the carriage, looking up at the house. A beam of sunlight illuminated his face, and for a moment he looked like one of the Greek gods from ancient legend.

She must have made a little strangled noise, for suddenly everyone was looking at her.

‘That is Lord Routledge,’ Mrs Huntley said, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. ‘You know Lord Routledge, too, Miss Shepherd?’