“I took a peek,” he murmured, his eyes watchful upon hers. “It is a book about birds.”

“Yes. As part of my lesson tomorrow, I intend to take the girls into the woods. I wanted to be able to identify a few of the birds I see and explain their rituals. I promise there will be no climbing of trees or skipping stones.”

“Ah, the husband-and-wife bird.”

She gasped. “They told you?”

“With great animation.” He glanced down at the book clutched to her chest. “You like children very much.”

We are having a conversation. She did not know how to feel that he no longer projected a coldly disagreeable air. “I do,” she said softly.

“It must have been a painful blow when your engagement ended.”

“It was,” she said. “But I was not in love with him, so my mourning did not last long.”

His eyebrows arched upward, his voice haughty when he said, “Why were you going to marry him if not for love?”

“You believe in love matches, Your Grace?”

“I do not deny the existence of love. I see it every day around me. I feel it every time I see my girls. My parents were also a love match, and anyone who saw them could not have doubted it.”

“Did you love your wife?” He stiffened, and she regretted that she had asked. “Please forgive my intrusion, Your Grace. I overstepped.”

“You did,” he said after a moment of silence. “It was a fair question given our topic of discourse. I esteemed her greatly. We had good conversations, and she gave me two beautiful children. Our interests were very different, and Julianna lived for the social scene. I preferred the country. At times, it suited us to live life separately; however, we were faithful to our vows and our marriage.”

Sarah could not imagine a union with so much distance. “How long were you married?”

“Four years.”

They strolled in silence, and she found herself wondering about the lady he courted. “Are you falling in love with Miss Anna?” Sarah asked before she thought better of it.

“No, I am not.”

“But you are courting her?”

They stared at each other until Sarah glanced away.

“I am getting to know her,” he said softly. “Miss Anna is at the top of the list my sister prepared for me of putative brides she considers suitable for me to marry. She is determined that I will remarry to find a mother for my girls and hopefully provide an heir to the title,” he said, his mouth quirking slightly at the statement. “Miss Anna may be a perfect fit for the position, although she rarely engages with my daughters, and so far, they do not seem comfortable or affectionate to her. I need to decide whether she would be the best choice, under the circumstances.”

God, the ache in her heart was just too much. They were both daughters of viscounts, but Sarah had no connections or dowry to recommend her to even be on Lady Esther’s list. “Miss Anna would make a beautiful duchess, Your Grace,” Sarah admitted.

“She has little conversation. I want…” he stopped, staring at Sarah’s mouth.

“What do you want?”

He closed his eyes briefly as if he struggled with something fiercely. He stepped toward her, and her heart leaped. His Grace stopped himself and put a respectable distance between them. Then down the path, a man ran forward; Sarah recognized him as the duke’s steward, Mr. George Johnson, who seemed an affable and efficient employee. They had been introduced but had not conversed, although the servants treated him with respect and liking. You could tell a lot about a man from how he treated those beneath him and how they responded in kind.

“Your Grace,” Mr. Johnson called, “Farmer Henley has called to discuss the matter of those twenty acres. I presumed that you might wish to speak with him in person?”

“If you will excuse me, Miss Bellamy,” he said with studied politeness.

She dipped into a curtsy. “Yes, of course, Your Grace.”

Sarah did not watch him go. Holding her book, she went over to a large willow tree that provided ample shade and sat down on the ground with her knees raised, her feet flat on the grass, and wrapped her arms about her legs.

She thought he would have kissed her.

Dear God, and what would I have done?


Tags: Eva Devon Historical