Chapter Eighteen

S arah dashed through the streets, not really paying attention to what direction she was going in. She felt numb, as if her whole mind and body had been chilled by a dip in a frozen lake.

She could not believe what had just happened. Despite all her reservations, all her vows that she would not end up like her mother, she had given herself to a man who was not truly free to be with her. It was not entirely Henry’s fault—his father had put him in an impossible position, but a small part of her wished he had chosen her. Never would she want his sister to suffer, but surely there must be some way that she and Henry could be together, and Sophia could be rescued from her horrific proposed marriage. She wanted him to fight for her, but she had seen in his eyes that he thought he was defeated.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. This was an impossible situation and she was asking too much of Henry. He had come so far these last few days, realising he deserved a second chance at love and that he could trust his instincts and decisions. They had almost succeeded, almost had their fairytale ending, but Lord Burwell had slipped in right when Sarah had allowed her worries to float away.

A chilling thought hit her as she realised she and Henry had spent the afternoon making love. It was only one afternoon, but babies had been conceived after less.

‘He is not like your father,’ she reminded herself. Henry was a good man stuck in an impossible situation. If she did find herself pregnant, she did not think he would abandon her to deal with it on her own.

A little rebellious voice inside of her asked, If he had to choose between supporting her and helping his sister, what would he do?

Sarah let out a half-strangled sob of distress, startling a couple walking past. She gave then a weak smile of apology and hurried on.

She could not believe how foolish she had been.

She needed to go. To pack her bags and leave London. It was the kindest thing she could do for Henry, even though her heart was breaking at the thought of never seeing him again. But she just complicated matters—if she was not there, he could make a decision about his future, and his sister’s future, without having to take a third person into consideration.

Tonight she would pack up her few possessions, and tomorrow she would enquire about a coach to Tunbridge Wells. From there it was not far to the house of the Huntley family. It would be difficult leaving, but eventually she would see it was for the best. In the quiet Kent countryside she could mourn the loss of her first love and slowly recuperate from the unbearable pain she was feeling.

Henry paced back and forth across the expensive rug in Lord Shrewsbury’s study. They had been cloistered in there for an hour, discussing recent events, but right now Henry felt no further forward.

After an agonising hour at home—where he had tried to come up with a way to salvage his burgeoning relationship with Sarah, and stop his father using his sister as a pawn against him—he had admitted defeat. Once he would have kept his despair to himself, but right now he would do anything to find a solution, so he had made his way to Shrewsbury House.

‘I can’t do it to her. She’s fourteen years old and he wants her to marry Lord Tutley.’

‘There is a chance he could push through the marriage, whether you propose to Lady Isabelle or not,’ Shrewsbury said.

‘Surely he wouldn’t.’ Henry closed he eyes, knowing that, despite his protest, his father could.

‘I do not mean to add to your distress, I merely wish to point out that, whatever you decide, it might not be the end of it. I would hate for you to sacrifice your own happiness for Sophia’s, only to find your father has tricked you.’

‘Why does he have to be such a rogue?’

‘He is beyond a rogue,’ Shrewsbury said. ‘Lord Tutley is not a pleasant marriage prospect for a fourteen-year-old, but the main objection is his age. I know he has been married four times, but I have not heard he is a cruel man, or unkind to his wives.’

‘There is something wrong with a seventy-year-old who wishes to marry a child,’ Henry said harshly.

‘You are right, of course. I thought only to say that we do not know how your sister has been living. It cannot be a pleasant existence, having her every move controlled by your father. Perhaps it would be wise to ask her what she wants. She might welcome a chance to get away from Lord Burwell’s influence, even if it is to marry Lord Tutley.’

Henry inclined his head. He could not see his sweet little sister ever voluntarily choosing to marry the old man, but Shrewsbury was right, he should seek her opinion, if he could find a way to gain access to her. The last time he had seen Sophia she had been nine years old. She was much older now, and would have opinions of her own.

‘What does Miss Shepherd think?’

‘She told me she loved me, and then said I had to do right by Sophia.’

‘A generous young woman then.’

Henry groaned. ‘Up until yesterday I had resigned myself to marrying whatever debutante would please my father. I would not have chosen one as young and na?ve as Lady Isabelle, but I expect there is nothing really wrong with her. It just feels so cruel. I finally decide to open my heart again, and he manoeuvres the chess pieces on the board so I have no choice.’

‘You have a choice.’

‘Not one that I care to make.’ Henry let his head sink into his hands. Shrewsbury did not have any miraculous solutions to his problems, but it felt good to share the burden, even just a little. ‘I think you are right. I need to go and talk to Sophia.’

‘Your father will not let you in, not without an agreement from Lady Isabelle that she will marry you.’

Henry thought for a second, then grinned. ‘I have an idea. Will you come and distract my father and the servants?’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I know a good spot in the back garden where I can climb up to a first-floor window. No doubt there will be one open on a warm night such as this.’

‘You’re going to break into your father’s house?’

‘I am. I will break in, find Sophia and see my little sister again after all this time.’