Page 45 of Lady of Charade
David opened his mouth as though he were going to say something, but then closed it quickly once more. She looked at him quizzically, about to ask what was on his mind, but he began speaking before she could do so.
“What was your mother’s name?” he asked, and Sarah started slightly in surprise.
“My mother?” she asked. “What makes you ask?”
Had he found something?
“I only determined that if I am going to be looking into who your father might be, I should likely know her name.”
“Mary,” she said softly, a smile covering her face as she said it.
“Mary Jones?”
“I assume so,” Sarah said with a bit of a shrug. “Unless she changed her name upon departing England. I must admit that I have been unable to find any relation with such a name, but then, she could be from anywhere within England, and there are quite a few people with the surname of Jones.”
“Thank you,” he murmured. “I shall remember it.”
“Will you tell me once you learn anything?” she asked, not wanting to be left out of this quest she had been embarking on by herself for so long. She appreciated David’s help but would prefer that they work on this together, that he not simply take over from where she had left off. “Do you promise not to keep anything from me?”
For a moment she wondered if he was hesitating, but then she quickly shook the thought out of her mind as he spoke.
“Of course I will.”
“Thank you. I saw you speaking with Lady Alexander this evening,” she said, turning to him now and raising an eyebrow. She had, in fact, been quite interested in their conversation, though she had no desire to enter into it herself.
“She’s an… interesting woman,” he said, as though unsure of just how deep were Sarah’s feelings toward her.
“She can be a bit cold, I know that,” Sarah said, aware that Lady Alexander did not approve of David, and had not been shy about telling Sarah exactly how she felt. “But I owe her a great deal, and therefore cannot say anything against her.”
“Tell me again how you came to be acquainted with her,” he said, and Sarah inwardly sighed. She had no idea why this was relevant, but if it would placate him, then so be it.
“Lady Alexander and I were on the same ship to England. I was gifted a first class passenger berth, and she and I happened to be placed at the same table for dinner the first night. I didn’t share much of myself, though she was interested in who I was, and concerned that I was alone. She said that a woman such as myself should not be sailing across the Atlantic Ocean without a proper chaperone. She had a maid with her, but besides that, she was alone as well. She suggested that we keep one another company for the remainder of the journey. By the time we arrived in England, I had shared with her much of my story, and when no one met me upon arrival, she offered to chaperone me as I searched for my father.”
David nodded as she spoke.
“I must admit that I am having difficulty equating the woman of whom you describe with the one with whom I spoke tonight, but perhaps you bring out her better side,” he said with a forced smile, and Sarah shook her head slightly.
“That is kind of you to say,” she said, looking down, unable to meet the brilliant green of his eyes, which always drew her in and made her forget all thought. She had a difficult time accepting such praise of her character, for she saw no reason why he should feel the need to compliment her so. Was he playing a game with her?
“You are an astounding woman, Sarah Jones,” David said, planting his feet firmly on the floor and leaning over to cup her face in his hands. “I am a better person to know you.”
Warmth crept up her cheeks that had nothing to do with her proximity to the fire in front of her.
“I do not require your lines, David,” she said, biting her lip, and he ran his thumb over where her tooth had left an indentation in the pink flesh.
“There are no lines with you, Sarah,” he said. “Just truth.”
She looked up at him then, shocked by the desperate plea in his eyes — for her to believe him? She wasn’t entirely sure, but when he reached out a hand to her, she took it, allowing him to draw her to him. She rose from her chair, took a couple of hesitant steps forward, and then followed where his hand led her, to sit on his lap, where she had wanted to be since he had entered her room. He smoothed one of his hands over her hair, through the long strands to down her back, until it cupped her hip. His eyes searched hers, as though he was attempting to find answers to whatever questions remained unspoken in his mind.
She splayed her hands across his chest over that awful gold wrapper, allowing her gaze to follow her fingers rather than focus on his face, where she knew she would become lost. She slipped her hands within the lapels of the wrapper, shocked when her fingers found bare skin.
“No nightshirt?” she murmured, and he shook his head.
“I sleep without.”
“Of course you do.”
Despite the fact that they had been together before, that she had seen more of him than she had any other man, her heart was beating furiously. She had made a mistake once. Why was she doing so again?
