Sarah pressed back in her chair, feeling as if she had been slapped. “Owen had mistresses?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon scowled. “You did not know?”
Sarah shook her head. Her stomach clinched. “Perhaps he was... cautious.”
“He was not. Almost never.”
Sarah fought to catch her breath. “How could you—” And then she knew. “They were here? Your upstairs girls!”
“Some. Yes. But not all. One of my girls told me he had been trying to get a by-blow on some actress, without success.”
Sarah jerked to her feet, her hands over her face as a chill went through her. She should have known, when Owen had stopped coming to her, that he would seek relief somewhere else. But that he hadtriedto get a child on another woman... and could not. “This is cruel,” she murmured. “We should not simply... hope.” She faced the Lyon. “Hope is for children.”
“Sit down, Sarah.” As Sarah dropped back into the chair, Mrs. Dove-Lyon took a deep breath. “Hope and practical action are what keep us alive. Do you not want children?”
“Of course, I... did.”
“Would you marry again, had I not intervened?”
Sarah considered the question. Life with Owen had been altogether painful, in every way imaginable. She had already decided... “No.”
“Then I instigated practical action for you.”
“He wants an heir.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon shook her head. “He understands it may not happen, even with another woman. It does not always, you know. There are no guarantees in this life.”
“Just hope.”
The Lyon smiled. “Indeed. And he knows that Mark can produce an heir, if that time comes. In fact, he already has.”
Sarah stared. “I beg your pardon?”
“Another story for another time.”
“But—”
“Are you in love with him?”
Sarah bit her lower lip, hating that this woman saw so much, knew so much.
“So. Yes. Or you would not care. Do you accept he may not be able to return it?”
Tears stung Sarah’s eyes. But she nodded.
“Can you marry him under those terms?”
Last night, Sarah had thought not. Had considered ending the arrangement. Now... she gave another nod.
“Then you should tell him. Because he has already been here this morning, just before you arrived. And he is terrified you will not.”
Chapter Ten
Thursday, 28 July 1814
Lady Crewood’s home,
Half past eleven