Page 54 of Lady of Charade
She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “I should speak to him myself.”
David had thought that perhaps that would be her response, but he sorely wished it were otherwise. For he still worried about the man rejecting her, and he sensed a great need to be there for her if that happened, to comfort her, to protect her from someone who might not want her. Though how a man could be so foolish as to not want Sarah Jones in his life, David had no idea.
“Please, Sarah?” he asked again, not wanting to beg, but unsure of how else to convince her. “I promise you, I will say nothing after I introduce you. You can say whatever it is you wish to him, and I will remain only an observer. Would you allow me to do that for you, to be there for you?”
She paused for a moment, staring at him, and finally, she managed a quick nod.
“Very well,” she said. “Could it be for tomorrow? I believe I need a day to determine exactly how to approach him.”
“Of course,” he said, relieved that she had agreed. “Tomorrow.”
As he left, the word played around in his mind. Tomorrow. The day that all would be revealed to both Sarah and Torrington. But it would bring something else as well — the potential end to all that was between him and Sarah. She had always said that once she had determined her father’s identity, she would leave England and return home. Even if, on the chance that the Earl accepted her, convinced her to stay and become part of his life, where would that leave David? He would no longer have any reason to be there for her every night, staying with her and protecting her. He could, of course, offer for her — the thought had been on his mind often enough. But all of her actions told him that she was not entirely interested in him the way he was in her.
Oh, he knew she did care for him, as she had told him, but he could not imagine going as far as to marry her if she did not feel the same for him as he did for her. The idea of marriage triggered a thought in his mind, and he realized that he had not yet followed through on his determination to put an end to this ridiculous rumor regarding marriage between him and Lady Georgina. Despite his uncertainty regarding Sarah, he wouldn’t take Lady Georgina’s hand as his second choice. It wasn’t fair to her, and he would never be happy married to a woman not of his own choosing.
When he returned home, he found a note waiting from Lord Hartley, informing him that he had sent word to his cousin and she would be happy to receive him. David scribbled two notes for Hampton to deliver. One to Lord Torrington, requesting an audience for tomorrow, and another to Lady Georgina, informing her that he would call upon her this afternoon.
Then he would pay a visit to his parents — but that would be a surprise.
* * *
Sarah hated lying to David.But he had been so insistent on accompanying her to Lord Torrington’s, she knew he wouldn’t relent until she had promised they would go together.
It was not that she didn’t appreciate all that he had done for her, including his willingness to support her when she met — confronted? — her potential father. It was only that this was something she felt she had to do on her own. She and David had become rather attached, and Sarah had no idea how much was due to the fact that he felt indebted to her for saving his life, and how much it was because he “cared” about her.
He already protected her every single night, but her meeting with the Earl was something she could handle. She had survived living on her own in the wilds of America. She had crossed an ocean. She had navigated the social scene that was London’s nobility. She could confront one man.
As she walked through Cheapside to Mayfair, her cheeks warmed as she recalled the Earl entering his study while she and David had been inside. She didn’t think Lord Torrington had even looked at her, and she wondered now at what would have happened if he had actually caught her within his desk, going through his belongings.
Would she have told him who she was? Would he have realized, right then, that he was her father?
Her long walk complete, Sarah stood in front of Lord Torrington’s London manor, looking up at the building on St. James Street, its front facade covered in dark stucco, sash windows rising with the building and surrounding the brown paneled door with the fanlight atop.
She had been inside before, of course, but never with such a purpose in mind. Sarah patted her hair, wishing she had put more thought into the fact that an hour walk would leave her looking disheveled. There was nothing to be done about that now, however. Sarah took a deep breath and walked up to the door, her knock being answered in moments by a tall, disapproving butler.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “Is Lord Torrington available to callers?”
The man furrowed his brow as he looked at her.
“Do you mean Lady Torrington?”
Oh, goodness. She hadn’t even thought of the fact that Lady Torrington might insist on being in the room when she spoke to the Earl.
“No, I do mean Lord Torrington. I would like to speak with him alone.”
“May I please provide your name?”
“Of course,” she said hurriedly. “I have no calling card, unfortunately, but it is Miss Jones. Miss Sarah Jones.”
“Very good,” he said. “Please follow me.”
She nodded, her heart slamming against her ribs as she entered the drawing room after him. It was an elegant room, though not one Sarah would describe as comfortable. Egyptian gods and goddesses looked down upon her from where they were painted in a border near the ceiling. Additional sculptures stood upon the mantel over the grate, while the chairs were not at all plush, but ornately carved in exquisite, intricate motifs. It seemed everything within the room was gilded, with the walls painted a brilliant red. The butler held out an arm in front of him, and Sarah followed his outstretched hand into the room, taking a seat on the settee facing the door. She took a deep breath, managing a smile for the butler who remained watching her.
“Please wait one moment,” he said, before shutting the door behind him, leaving Sarah alone with her thoughts. She continued to repeat to herself the words she had been practicing since the day she found out that she might have a father, particularly an English nobleman. She would maintain calm, ensure that he understood she was asking nothing of him but a family connection.
The doorknob began to turn, and Sarah jumped to her feet in anticipation of the man, but instead, a woman filled the doorway.
She was slightly over average height, her hair still a deep chestnut despite the fact that she was old enough to be Sarah’s mother. She was beautiful, made even more so by apparent enhancements such as the slightest hint of red on her lips, which would have been nearly imperceptible but for the fact that Sarah was well aware of the various ingredients used for lip pomades here in England.
