“Well, I—”
“Your eyes are unforgettable, and so is your voice,” he said softly, his eyes skipping over her face as if he wanted to inter her features into his mind. “You are rather lovely, Miss Bellamy. Not plain as you mentioned. A deliberate lure to entice and then enthrall me?”
Sarah felt unraveled, completely undone. “They are brown,” she said simply. “Many ladies have brown eyes.”
An arrogant brow winged upward. “Do they?”
“Yes.”
“I have never seen any shot with sparks of gold at the center and even within that gold there is a hint of cinnamon. Your eyes are beautiful, and I would not mistake them in another.”
When she made to open her mouth, an impatient sound came from him.
“I do not like liars.”
She gasped but said nothing. Sarah herself did not appreciate dishonesty after being dangled like a fish on a hook for six long years by a man who had never intended to marry her. “I am sorry,” she said softly, hating the tears forming in her eyes. “I trust you would understand my prevarication just now. This ishighlyunexpected, Your Grace.”
“It is, Miss Bellamy.”
She felt obliged to defend her actions. “When I met you that night, I had no notion you were my employer or a duke. I…I…If I knew, Your Grace, I would never have jeopardized my post by staying outside with you.”
The living he was providing her here was very generous, and she did not want to lose it.
“My man of affairs spoke highly of your connections and education. I was very impressed with the curriculum you created for my daughters.”
It shocked her that he was not speaking about that night. Still, she reached for it like a drowning man who had been tossed a rope. “Yes, Your Grace.”
He moved one hand in a dismissive manner. “Compose yourself and meet me in my library in the next thirty minutes. We will discuss this further in privacy.”
She dipped into a curtsy. “Yes, Your Grace.”
He whirled around and walked away. Sarah wilted. In truth, she lowered herself to the grass uncaring it might stain her gown. Was he intending to pretend that wonderful night had not happened? That he had not taken her virtue or that he had not loved her three times?
God, she closed her eyes as the wicked memories assaulted her senses.No more!Taking a deep breath, she fought for equanimity, donned her mask of professionalism, and walked back into the manor.
A footman directed Sarah to the duke. He waited for her in his palatial library, standing before floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the great lawns of his estate. His hands were clasped behind his back, and even without facing her, he seemed imposing. So unlike the teasing lover several nights past.
Sarah delicately cleared her throat, and he turned around. She stared at his cold and indifferent mien, desperately trying to forget that mere days ago those hands hadpleasured her senseless. She lost the battle and she blushed. His eyes sharpened and his expression shuttered.
“There is an envelope on my desk, Miss Bellamy; it is for you.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” She walked over to the desk and plucked up the letter.
“You may read it in private.”
Pressing a hand against her belly to still the flutters, she replied, “Yes, Your Grace. Is that all?”
“Yes, Miss Bellamy.”
Swallowing she exited the library and leaned against the door with a sigh. It was clear the duke’s path forward was to pretend it had not happened. Sarah wasn’t certain if she should be relieved or not.Definitely relieved, she thought a few seconds later. It would be hard enough to face the duchess with the knowledge she had. And more likely she would hardly see the duke in the coming days or even months. Before she had applied for the post, she had understood that she would still be lonely within its confines and without any friends. She would not be any sort of companion to the duke and duchess as their station in the household would not allow for it, and she would be above the servants in their positions and would likely not be welcomed at their table. But she had consoled herself with the knowledge she would be teaching two lovely girls whom she might come to love.
Instead of heading to her room, she opened the letter that had not been sealed. Her heart slammed into her throat to see that it was a bank draft of five hundred pounds, the sum she had agreed on for a year’s wages. It had been a hefty amount, but Sarah had thought, with her background and the fine education as a viscount’s daughter, she could demand that price. How surprised she had been when the solicitor had agreed without a negotiation.
Opening the small, folded letter, she read.
Dear Miss Bellamy,
Thank you for journeying down. Regrettably your services are no longer needed. As the mistake was mine, please see enclosed the sum agreed on for one year of service.