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CHAPTER 1
London, 1875
Sarah Rose Hood was in love with her husband. She was almost sure of it.
James was kind and handsome. Considerate and smart. He’d taken good care of her in the two months they’d been married, providing a home and servants and new dresses. She loved him. Surely.
And she feared him. Just a tiny bit.
“I’ll be late, I’m afraid,” he said, picking up his gloves from the parlor table. He smiled as he tugged them on. “Hanover will want to discuss the provisions of the new bill, and you know how he tends to go on.”
Sarah nodded as if she did.
“You needn’t wait up.” His rich voice traveled in waves over her skin as he leaned down to brush a kiss against her cheek. “Good night, Sarah.”
She had to hide a shiver at his touch. “Good night,” she returned, still breathing in the strange spice of his soap.
Strange. That was the best word to describe her feelings of late. It was decidedly strange to live in such intimate proximity with a man. Strange to be so abruptly picked up from a life sheltered from the attentions of gentlemen and then simply plopped down into a marriage and everything that entailed.
Not that she hadn’t wanted to marry James. She had craved it, but . . .
When she heard the front door close, Sarah shook her head and rose to her feet to ring for dinner. The meal would be a solitary affair, as it always was on the nights James spent at his club. She didn’t mind. James encouraged her to invite friends over to keep her company; he worried she was lonely. But these evenings alone gave her time to breathe, time free of worrying if she were behaving the way a wife ought to and filling her time with appropriate activities.
The meal of boiled beef and pudding ticked by in peaceful silence, and Sarah spent the rest of her evening curled in a chair in the cozy parlor, sipping wine as she soaked up the drama of the new novel she’d purchased that day. Reading was her greatest indulgence, and James encouraged her to spend as much as she pleased at her favorite bookshop. Another reason she was certain she must love him.
The new novel proved far too delicious, and the wine as well. When Sarah looked up from the story of high-seas adventure and frightening storms, she realized that it was after ten and past time to ready for bed. When she rose too quickly, her head swam with wooziness.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, pressing her palm to her forehead. One glass of wine too many. Or two.
She wobbled a bit as she made her way carefully across the room and headed straight for the stairs. Thank God James hadn’t come home early to find her drunk. And thank God he’d hired her a quick and capable lady’s maid. Sarah felt a sudden urge to hug the girl when a few tugs freed Sarah from the tight embrace of her corset. The deep breath she drew sent sparks floating before her eyes.
“Oh, thank you, Mary!”
“You’re welcome, ma’am,” the maid responded, her Irish brogue soothing as a whisper.
Each unrestricted breath felt better than the last. An ache took over her ribs and then faded into a pleasant warmth. Sarah smiled at the wall. “Where did you work before you came to us, Mary?”
The girl’s fingers froze for a bare second on Sarah’s leg before she continued unfastening the stockings. Sarah immediately regretted the question. She did not speak to Mary about personal things. The wine had loosened her tongue.
“I worked for a Mrs. Albertson, ma’am. I was maid to her and her two daughters. They were sixteen and eighteen.”
“Ah. I hope I am easier work then. Simpler, at least.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Girls of that age can be difficult.” But of course, she herself was only twenty. Another strange thought.
Most of her friends had held secret fantasies of marrying up. A gentleman of the ton, perhaps, who would sweep a girl into that sparkling swirl of society parties and elegant country retreats. But Sarah had never wanted that. She had wanted love and friendship. Comfort and compatibility. A man of her father’s station in life.
When she’d met James, a young barrister who’d just acquired a seat in the commons, her heart had turned over and then beat so hard she’d wondered if he could see the pulse in her neck. He was tall and handsome, his dark hair a fascinating contrast to pale green eyes. And then he’d smiled.
Sarah pressed a hand to her chest as her heart jumped to life at the memory.
“Ma’am?”
Blinking, she found that Mary was standing before her, holding a gown of delicate muslin. “Oh, so sorry.” Sarah dutifully held her arms up and let Mary pull her chemise off over her head. Her body was exposed for a moment, pale and vulnerable. She closed her eyes until Mary pulled the sleeveless nightgown into place.
They were nearly done. She would sit in her chair for a few moments while Mary took down the hair she’d braided that morning. She would brush it out and then tidy up before lowering the lamps and leaving her mistress to herself.
Sarah felt the pins in her hair loosen. “Do you have family?” she blurted out, wanting to continue the conversation for reasons she could not fathom. There was that infinitesimal pause in the maid’s hands again, but Sarah looked into the mirror and saw Mary nod. “Aye, ma’am. Two brothers, two sisters. A father. Me mum died when I was young.”
