Page 17 of His Perfect Bride
“Yes.” She kept her voice level now too. “I made three separate files and categorized each by the dates. I thought it would be helpful if you could see the progression with each new diagram.”
He flipped through them one by one. The furrows in his forehead lessened, and one of his brows quirked up.
Her muscles tightened again as she waited for the monster from moments ago to rear his head and yell at her. Instead, he released aharumph, paged through the sheets again, then turned and left just as suddenly as he’d entered.
Perhaps she had taken the cleaning and organizing too far. It was just that she was used to taking charge of her family, of keeping everyone and everything in order. She was by nature a perfectionist…although she’d clearly failed in being perfect enough, especially for David.
A sting pricked her heart—the sting of his rejection. It wasn’t as strong as it used to be, but sometimes it still hurt and was the reminder that she was inadequate and was better off remaining a spinster.
Seven
“It’s a surprise.” Augusta’s voice rang out cheerfully in the balmy afternoon as she dragged Sage through the overgrown gardens behind Fairview.
Sage tripped over a loose stone in the path but held on tightly to Augusta’s hand. Sage wasn’t familiar with how formal gardens were typically arranged, but on the few occasions she’d been in the spacious yard, she’d liked the natural feel to it, as if she were stepping into the wilderness of the island instead of a neat and artfully arranged yard like the Firths’ next door.
Earlier in the day, Augusta had paid a visit to Mrs. Firth and her daughters. Although Mr. and Mrs. Firth were invited to the dinner party which was now only three days away, Augusta had naturally accepted the invitation to have tea and get to know the ladies of the Firth family before the event.
When Augusta had arrived home, Sage had been helping Gustave in the kitchen prepare tiny cakes to serve for dessert. She’d anticipated accompanying Augusta to the last dress fitting for her party gown and hadn’t expected to be led out into the backyard.
After spending all of yesterday afternoon organizing Jackson’s study, Sage still had several lists of all the things needing to be done before the dinner. But she couldn’t deny Augusta asurprise, especially when she seemed so excited about it.
Besides, Sage wouldn’t complain about taking a break from the constant attempt to avoid seeing Jackson. Since the incident in his study, she’d felt as if he’d been watching her more carefully.
Maybe she was being overly suspicious, but on two different occasions, he’d seemed to seek her out. The first time had been last evening after dinner when she’d been polishing the goblets for Gustave and putting them away. Jackson had paused in the entryway of the butler’s pantry, opened his mouth as if to say something, then had moved on. This morning, she’d been ironing several of his shirts in the laundry room when he’d again passed by.
Both appearances had been unusual since Jackson rarely ventured away from his work, much less into the menial areas of the house.
Whatever the case, she’d felt him watching her more in one day than she had during the previous days of her visit combined. Maybe after their argument yesterday, she’d upset him more than she’d realized. Maybe now he was scrutinizing her and looking for her to fail in her duties in order to bring the complaints to his sister.
Thankfully, Augusta wasn’t swayed by Jackson’s moodiness. In fact, she rarely seemed bothered by anything her brother did. Attired in a lavender gown with a skirt that swayed like a bell, Augusta’s dark hair was combed back as severely as usual beneath her matching lavender bonnet. Although Augusta wasn’t fair and youthful, Sage had grown to appreciate the subtle beauty the woman displayed, especially in the lovely arched angles of her face.
Sage ducked under a branch and squeezed past a hedge of shrubs that were aflame with the changing leaves of autumn now that September had passed. With October well underway, the foliage had become more vibrant, bathing the landscape with an array of crimson and gold and burnt orange.
She breathed in the chilly air filled with a freshness she would never grow tired of—a smoky pine scent that was clean and wild and so opposite anything she’d ever experienced in Manchester.
As Augusta led her through the overgrown gardens, they found themselves at the back end of the property of both houses. While Fairview’s yard wasn’t yet enclosed, the Firths’ home was much tidier with a tall wrought iron fence with fleur-de-lis points that ran the length of the boundary.
A young woman stood just inside an arched gate in the shadows of a low-hanging maple, and at their approach, she turned toward them. For a half a second, Sage’s heart stopped beating. Was this Willow?
As the young woman ducked out from underneath the tree and then opened the gate, a slant of sunlight highlighted pale blond hair that was plaited in a long braid, not the reddish blond that Willow and Sage shared.
Considering the black maid’s uniform, white apron, and lacy cap, Sage guessed this pretty young woman worked for the Firths. As she exited the Firths’ yard and rounded the fence into the overgrown grass and shrubs of Fairview, her eyes gleamed with excitement.
But why?
“Sage?” the woman asked as she swept her gaze over Sage.
Who was this woman? Sage turned toward Augusta for the answer.
Within the shadows of her lavender bonnet, Augusta was beaming now too. “This is Juliet Dash, one of the Firths’ maids.”
Before Sage could curtsy or offer a handshake or even say hello, the newcomer was flinging herself upon Sage, wrapping her into a hug, and squeezing her. “Holy Moses, I can’t believe it’s you.”
Sage wasn’t sure whether to return the embrace or push the woman away. Instead, she patted Juliet’s back, then tugged herself free. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
Juliet laughed, her eyes crinkling with mischief. “Of course not. But I know so much about you, I’d almost count you a sister if I’d had one.”
Sage’s mind began to spin with the implications of what Juliet was saying, and anticipation now bubbled inside her. “You know Willow.”
