The housekeeper chuckled. “Oh, you’re such a duck, my lady. I’m sad to see you go.” She sighed. “His Lordship won’t ever have happiness, for he’s not that himself.”
“I know.” She took a shuddering breath. “Which is why I must go. It’s exhausting to wonder and worry and hope. He’ll never love me until he accepts himself.” And at this point, I rather doubt that will happen. If she didn’t get away, she’d burst into tears. “I’ve left a letter for him on his bureau. Please be certain he sees it.”
“I will.” The housekeeper stepped closer. She worried her pinafore apron with her fingers. “My lady, if I may ask a bold question?”
“Of course.” Would that the staff here could come with her to Brighton. Wouldn’t that serve Andrew right if he came home to a barren house?
A knowing gleam entered Mrs. Hastings’ eyes. “Do you love His Lordship?”
Did she? After everything, she’d thought there might have been something, affection at the very least, between them. “It’s difficult to say, but I have come to care for the earl.” She rested a hand on her belly. If he knew they’d created a child together, would that usher in a permanent change? Would it make a difference if she told him?
Probably not.
“It wouldn’t matter if I did, would it? He doesn’t love anyone except himself.”
The housekeeper clucked like a distressed hen. “Men like him don’t show it.”
“They should, for the people in their lives need to hear it, see that love.”
Eventually, the housekeeper nodded. “He’s naught but a lost little boy at times, my lady. Lord knows we’ve all experienced that at one time or another.” With a mighty sniff, she threw her arms around Sarah. “We’ll miss you, and that’s a fact.”
It had been so long since she’d felt such security from another person that she gave into tears and hugged Mrs. Hastings back, propriety be damned. People should feel safe enough to share and show emotions regardless of class, rank, or social setting. “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Hastings. Please tell the staff goodbye for me.” When she pulled away, she wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I adored the suite you had readied for me. I might miss that most of all.”
The older woman ducked her head. “I won’t give up hope he can win you back.”
“That would take a miracle, I’m afraid.”
Mrs. Hastings’ smile held a mysterious edge. “Love is like that, isn’t it?”
Then the maid called out to Sarah with a question regarding a gown, and she parted from the older woman with a wave.
Yes, it was better to leave when it was easier, and her heart hadn’t been fully engaged. It was bad enough that organ felt as if it would break in half already.
*
Three hours later,the traveling coach had been loaded with luggage, the horses hitched and ready, Sarah had been settled inside with her maid, and they’d been underway for nearly one of those hours. Though the gentle rain from earlier had turned heavier and the skies had darkened further, she couldn’t remain for one moment longer in the house where memories haunted her at every turn.
“How long will the journey take, my lady?” Tilly asked with a fearful glance out the window. Up until this point she had been silent.
“One of the drivers told me seven days. We’ll overnight at coaching inns along the way, but they’ll be comfortable, I’m sure.” Yet they wouldn’t have Andrew and that devastating grin he flashed when something had particularly amused him. Nor would any of those places have the sound of his rumbling voice or the warmth of his laughter when he let himself enjoy life.
The maid looked more closely out the window. “It’s a horrible storm.”
“Indeed.” Perhaps this was the biggest folly to insist on traveling in such conditions, but she had no other recourse. The coach wheels bumped over seemingly every rock and rut in the road. Over the sound of the rain, the ghastly slurping, sucking noise of the water and mud pulling at the wheels rang in her ears.
With each mile that slowly went by, Sarah’s unease grew. She restlessly shifted positions—again—and tossed aside the volume of poetry she’d been trying to read for the last half hour. “I’m afraid this was a terrible decision.” Perhaps it would be more prudent to ask the drivers to turn back. She could always begin the trip anew when the weather had improved.
“Don’t worry so, my lady.” The soothing tones of Tilly’s voice gave her a modicum of calm. “Think what adventures await you in Brighton. Do you ever wonder what sand feels like on bare toes?”
“I’m afraid I never have.” She hadn’t given the Brighton townhouse much thought except to post a letter to the butler a few days ago with plans of her arrival.
“I’ll wager it feels weird at first.” The maid shivered. A cheerful grin curved her mouth as she clasped her much-darned glove-covered hands in her lap. “The sunshine will be worth all the hardships of this trip, though.”
While Sarah appreciated the girl’s bright attitude, at the moment she wished she were alone, for she needed to grieve the death of her brief marriage—to mourn the separation from Andrew. Why couldn’t he have seen his future was so much brighter than what he clung to in the past? Tamping down a sob, she drew the folds of her forest green cloak about her, for the rain had turned the summer afternoon chilly.
Another few miles went by before Tilly spoke again. “My lady, are you sure this trip is wise? I’m frightened.”
So am I.“Perhaps the weather will clear soon.”