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Chapter
Lady Sarah Crawford was seated in her room, a book upon her lap. She gazed out the window momentarily at the London skyline. It was a beautiful evening, and she wished to spend the rest of it in the confines of her luxurious townhome.
Her father, Lord John Crawford, Duke of Benton, was downstairs in his study attending to business. They had already enjoyed an early supper, and Sarah asked to retire for the night so that she might read her novel in the quiet of the fourth floor.
Sarah gazed up at a portrait of herself that hung in her room and frowned. Why wouldn’t her father let her take that ghastly painting down? Who would ever want to have a painting of themselves in their own room? But the duke had insisted, and Sarah obliged, considering that he was the master of the house, and one day, she’d inherit the property anyhow and take the painting down.
Still, the painting of herself was expertly done by a famous French painter when Sarah was eleven years of age. That was an entire decade ago! Time did fly by when one was a key member of thetonand spent all their time at balls and fetes, learning to dance, read, and sing, as well as studying various foreign languages. With all that leisure time, Sarah was kept very busy.
Sarah wore a pink dress in the painting, and her blonde hair was done up with ringlets on her forehead. Her soft blue eyes shone through, and her porcelain skin was accentuated with a healthy flush upon the cheeks. All in all, what Sarah didn’t like about the painting of herself was that she looked like a girl with no imagination or pluck, a lady with extreme pedigree who had one duty and one alone: to marry. Sarah didn’t agree with any of this.
It was so vexing that she’d need to travel to the small town of Hamel the next morning. Although the Duke of Faversham was a very powerful peer, and an eligible bachelor at that, Sarah couldn’t see why her father had to positively instruct her to attend the ball, when she’d much rather walk through the streets of London with her chaperone, observing all the interesting people that passed by.
No, Sarah was not looking forward to travelling to Hamel in the least. She’d begged and pleaded with her father to let her stay, but it was of no use; the duke refused. One day, when Sarah could claim her fortune and sit at the family helm, she’d make her own decisions about what parties and balls she’d attend. Till then, she was at her father’s command.
There was a gentle knock on the door, and Sarah invited her father to come inside, considering that was the only person who it could possibly be. Her sister, Lisbeth, was already asleep on the second floor.
“Sarah?”
“Yes, Father?”
“May I have a word with you?”
“I suspect that you will.” Sarah put down her book.
The Duke of Benton entered, still wearing his blue coat that he always wore for supper. His face looked weary. “You depart at eight in the morning with Lisbeth tomorrow. The coachman will be ready outside.”
“Father, do I have to go? I’d much rather stay.”
“Headstrong girl. The Duke of Faversham is an excellent acquaintance, and you’ll meet several important guests while at the estate.”
“But it’s such a long journey, and balls can be so frightfully boring. All that chatter and gossip.”
“Yes, my girl.” The duke smiled. “I know you’d much rather attend a salon and discuss paintings and literature. I trained you well.”
“Father, please refrain from using the wordtrained. I’m not a hound.”
The duke nodded. “You are certainly not a hound. You’re the brightest girl in Christendom. That’s why I can’t sleep at night.” Lord John massaged the bridge of his nose wearily.
“I suppose that you wish me to marry the Duke of Faversham.” Sarah lifted her brow.
“I wouldn’t be displeased.”
Sarah cocked her head. “He is a handsome man.”
“He’s much more than that, Sarah. Lord Edward Guilford is set to be one of the most powerful peers in Britain. He comes to town when the House of Lords is in session. You can live in the city that you love so dearly.”
Sarah had to protest. “That’s not the point, Father! You know as well as I that I don’t need to marry.”
The duke seated himself in a chair, seemingly bemused by the conversation that they repeatedly had.
“Sarah, this is not about money. This is about performing your duties for the Crawford lineage. A family, children … ”
Sarah defiantly opened her book and hoisted it in front of her face. Truth be told, the discussion of marriage and the pressure from her father put her on the verge of tears. She had no say in anything. What her father took to be defiance was really just Sarah asserting her will over her own future. She would marry for love if that ever came into her life, but she would not marry for status. Sarah Crawford would not live in a cage.
Perhaps sensing that he was making no headway, Lord John got up from the chair and walked over to Sarah, placing a gentle kiss upon her forehead.
“Eight in the morning,” he said.
