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All her good intentions dissolved with his words, like a flame to candle wax. She wanted to melt to the floor. He held out his hand to her. She dropped hers into it without thinking and the warmth of his palm engulfed her. There was something about him that felt so safe, even though in reality he was her greatest risk.
They walked through the house, hand in hand. It didn’t feel cloying, but as natural as breathing. She enjoyed the way he gripped her as if he was intent on holding her, as if she was more than an afterthought and this wasn’t just something he was doing for the sake of appearances.
Dangerous, Sara. Dangerous.
George was waiting for them inside. He opened the door to a parlour where a small group of people sat. The minute they entered the room, the deputation stood and moved forwards. When Lance smiled it didn’t look false and cold, like all the times she’d seen Ferdinand smile at his subjects. Lance’s smile warmed the whole room.
‘Good morning, Mrs Snow. I hope your husband is improving?’
The woman nodded. ‘He is, sir. Our profound thanks for your consideration.’
‘Whatever I can do.’ Lance’s gaze was full of sympathy. ‘The village wouldn’t be the same without your family.’
The woman’s cheeks flushed as Lance turned to the others. ‘Mr Bramwell, I hope your daughter’s still enjoying university...’ He went through the names of the six or so people there, making comments about their lives as they beamed at him as if he were the saviour of all things. ‘What brings me this honour?’
Another woman in the groupstepped forwards, gaze darting towards Sara. She was older than the rest, with a kind face.Mrs Hutchins.‘The honour’s ours. We’ve seen the papers. We never believe what they say about you, but...is it true?’
‘Ah, perhaps you should believe some things,’ Lance said with a devilish grin. Everyone turned to her, eyes wide.‘I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée, Lady Sara Conrad.’
There was a collective inhale from the little group. Exclamations. Smiles. Everyone crowding her with genuine happiness. It was so infectious she couldn’t help but be carried along with it.
‘Our heartiest congratulations,’ another man said, coming to shake Lance’s hand as everyone clamoured around them. It seemed so surreal. She wasn’t sure she’d received as much attention and affection in Lauritania when she was destined to beQueen.
One of the women passed a basket to Lance. ‘It’s not much. A few of us put some things together. Small tokens of our congratulations for you and Lady Sara.’
Lance lifted the cover laid over the basket and pulled out a jar topped with checked fabric and tied with a red ribbon. ‘Mrs Perkins, is this some of your prize-winning gooseberry jam? You know it’s my favourite.’
‘It has been since you were a wee boy.’ The woman beamed at him. ‘But I still won’t tell your cook the secret ingredient.’
Lance laughed. ‘And I’ll continue to ask.’
Mrs Perkins chuckled in response as the chatter carried on around them. Lance seemed to know who had made or grown everything in the basket, from the large brown eggs to the cakes.
Mrs Hutchins came up to her. ‘Welcome to our blessed little part of the world. We hope you’ll be happy here.’
‘Thank you. I’ve yet to see the village.’ What more could she say? She felt like a fraud, lying as she was. How would these kind people react when things inevitably ended? Would they blame Lance, given his reputation? Seeing them with him now, the thought that they might seemed so...unfair.
‘You will. Whilst he spends much of his time in London, His Grace still takes a keen interest. I assume you’ll be at the charity polo match? He always puts on food and drink for the locals. It’s a grand show. He’s quite the thing on horseback,’ the woman said, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial way.
Sara hadn’t thought much about it till now, but she’d seen enough photos when doing her research on him to know that Mrs Hutchins was right. Lance looked fine on horseback. He was, in fact,finein all respects.She lifted her hand to brush back a strand of unruly hair, trying to ignore the blush creeping up her throat.
‘What a beautiful ring. You’re not wearing the Astill Amethyst?’
Lance joined them, the warmth of his body both a temptation and a strange comfort as he stood close. The pleasure of that heat slid through her as she leaned into him.
‘Sara doesn’t like purple, so I’d never inflict the amethyst upon her. That would make me a bad fiancé.’ A few of the women seemed to blush as Lance’s eyes took on a devilish gleam. ‘But she looks beautiful in opals. I’ll have to drape her in them. She should wear nothing else.’
He winked, and the little group of villagers laughed.
‘He was always such a cheeky boy,’ Mrs Hutchins whispered with an indulgent smile. ‘Could get away with anything, and often did. But always quick to seek forgiveness. Raided my vegetable patch one day as a lad. Found him sitting in the dirt eating tomatoes like they were peaches. There went my attempt at making chutney. But then that afternoon there was a beautiful bunch of roses on my back step. Plucked straight from the bush. Astill Hall had a magnificent rose garden in those days. It’s a bit wild now.’
‘I love roses,’ Sara said.
‘That garden should be resurrected. Maybe now you’re here...’ The woman looked at her hopefully. ‘I hope I’m not speaking out of turn. But some of us never thought we’d see the day a woman would grace Astill Hall again. This place hasn’t had a family for as many years as I can remember, and it needs one.Heneeds one.’
Sara swallowed, not enjoying the lie she was required to perpetuate. She hadn’t really thought through the consequences of accepting his offer, and she suspected he hadn’t either. ‘Lance is...independent.’
‘He’s a good man. And we weren’t sure. We don’t believe much of what the papers write about him, but this...it was too much to hope for, and yet here you are.’
