Chapter 20

Sarah could not capture the memory of it. Surely the petals had more variegation? More something. She set her sketchbook down with a sigh, wishing the flower had bloomed for a bit longer before disappearing forever.

“What did I tell you about wandering around unaccompanied?”

The voice was critical, surly even. She had not realised she had been waiting for it, hoping for it, until she heard him speak. Her heart lifted, and she smiled up at him.

“Good morning, Mr Fitzwilliam.”

He looked a bit startled at the use of his name. He did not turn the scarred side of his face away from her, she was happy to see.

“You have been talking to Darcy. You should not have.”

“I realise we have not been introduced. Perhaps we should ask the orchids to perform the office, as they know me quite well by now.”

“Are you mad?” he said. “Of course you are. Not even a maid to lend you countenance.”

“My maid has very little countenance of her own and nothing left over to loan. She does not believe in country air, and I hate to command her when she would only be vexed and interrupt me with her sighs. I am trying to draw a flower that is not here, sir. A difficult task.”

“Mad.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Why do not you draw one of these several hundred, it seems, which are here and eagerly await your pencil?”

“There is a contest, you see, and we young ladies are all supposed to be competing. I was trying to sketch my entry, the one fascinating blossom amongst thousands of duller ones. ’Tis a pity it is not in attendance to appreciate my efforts.”

“What do you care of treasure hunts and scavenging clues for a paltry prize? Your father is Hampton’s heir.”

She grinned knowingly. “Fifty pounds is a worthwhile sum, a year’s handsome salary for many. And why, I wonder, can I not seek information of you, if you can ask about me? It is only fair.”

He looked annoyed that he had been caught out, knowing more than he should about who she was. She knew she should not be so thrilled that he had asked about her; it was most likely only minor curiosity. Why she was even attracted to him was impossible to say. But she was.

“Darcy probably warned you to stay away from me.”

“In point of fact, I asked him nothing. It was Georgiana who told me your name, and she certainly did not warn me off you. Why should she? You are harmless.” She was not quite sure this was true, but she declared it anyway.

He laughed, and it was not a pleasant-sounding laugh. “If you knew my thoughts right at this moment, you would not say such things.”

“I refuse to believe you would hurt me.”

“Foolish child! You are as na?ve as a new-born.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I am no child!”

“An infant,” he mocked. “A veritable babe in arms.”

“You are wrong,” she reproached, inexplicably irritated. Why should she care for his opinions? “You are one of those men who believe you are the only one on earth who has suffered. Hydrangea macrophylla, boasting of your misery for all to admire.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you know of misery or men?” he scoffed. “You have been nowhere except your ivory palaces. You have seen nothing of the world or the rogues who inhabit it. You might have lasted ten minutes in Portugal, but I give leave to doubt it.”

Goaded, she fired up at his wholly unfair accusations, coming to her feet. How dare he presume to know anything about her?

“Would an infant have stayed beside my mother as she birthed my brother, knowing something was terribly wrong and helpless to fix it? I did. I stayed and held her hand as she lay in agony for hours!”

He appeared taken aback, having not expected her defence. Likely he believed a callous remark or two from him would send her scurrying for safety. He knew nothing about her.

Taking the few steps towards him to face him eye to eye, she poked a finger in his chest. “I listened to her scream at the midwife to take the baby, to save the babe, until her voice was mere whimpers. I stayed. I stayed until finally the woman conceded defeat and just took Percy in the only way she could, killing Mama in the most brutal fashion. But I did not let go. I stayed by her side until she knew nothing more, reassuring her that I would always take care of her baby and of Papa. I always did. No infant could have made Papa eat when he did not wish to go on, and no babe in arms could have endured that child’s ceaseless screams. I wore the finish off the nursery floor for my brother, born too soon and crying for his dead mama. I was fourteen years old, and yet I held our family together when everything inside me only wanted to curl up into a ball and die myself. I am no green girl! I, sir, am a woman grown.”

She did not realise her tears until he took her face within his big palms, swiping them away with his thumbs.

“I am not crying,” she insisted.

“Of course not,” he said gruffly. “But stop it anyway.”

“It is only excessive emotion. You have not made me unhappy, for you do not possess that power. You?—”

He kissed her.

She was not quite prepared for the devastating onslaught and for a few moments, she only stood there, feeling as though she were balanced upon a cliff’s edge, her arms wheeling in shock. But it did not take her long before she jumped off, wrapping her arms about his neck and simply soaring, returning his kiss with all the untried, untested ardour in her soul. Sarah was innocent about some things, but she gained experience at lightning speed; before she knew it, she was being held against him, a tree at her back, being…devoured. There was no other word for it. She happily, enthusiastically, devoured him in return.

Suddenly he lurched back, practically dropping her to the ground as if she were a stinging nettle. He was breathing hard; she felt as though, were the tree not behind her, supporting her frame, she might melt into a puddle on the ground. Without another word, he strode off in the opposite direction.

She watched him go. “Not harmless,” she said to the orchids. “But I knew he would not hurt me.”