Page 59 of Lady of Charade
“I’m going home,” she choked out finally, her words as brusque as her current actions. “Where I never should have left.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, wondering whatever could have happened between the time he left her and his return. “Were we not going to visit Lord Torrington?”
“I have been to the Torringtons’,” she said, crouching now beside the old, tattered, and patched valise, roughly folding her dresses and skirts and shoving them into the bag as she spoke. “I have my answer. Now it is time to go.”
“I thought you were going to wait for me?” he said, perplexed. When had she spoken to Torrington? There was only a short timeframe between when David had left the man and then returned to Cheapside. What could Torrington have said in that space of time that would have so upset her? While David had his doubts whether the man would accept her, he thought Torrington was a decent enough sort who would have done so much more gently than others would have. But by Sarah’s reaction, it was as though the man had dumped her out on the street without a word of explanation.
“You have done enough for me,” she said, looking up at him for a moment, long enough for him to see the spark in her eyes, shining through her tears. “I release you from your duties.”
“You never held me to anything,” he said, attempting to maintain his own calm reason. “I chose to be here — to be with you.”
“Because you felt beholden to me. Because I saved your life. And then, because I allowed you into my bed.”
The room seemed to be spinning around David. Where had this woman come from? For this was not his Sarah, the woman he had come to know, had come to love. No, his Sarah was gentle, kind, loving, and rational.
But then, this was clearly not a typical circumstance.
“Sarah,” he said cautiously, taking a slow step toward her. “I am not here because I feel beholden to you in any way. Nor am I here to take you to bed.”
“Ah, you are done with me then,” she said with a curt nod. “Very well. I understand.”
David rubbed his forehead. Never before had he the occasion in which he had to convince a woman of his feelings toward her, for never before had he had any feelings for a woman that were beyond the intimacy she was describing.
He wished he were a man like Clarence, who could find the correct words for every moment. His own always came across so trite.
“Sarah,” he attempted again. “I am here for you. Whatever has happened, please tell me, and I will do all I can to help you.”
“Very well,” she said, rising and crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at him. “I visited Lord Torrington’s home and was told that he was aware of my existence but that he had no desire to want anything to do with me. That my mother was a harlot who he compromised, and then the family forced her to leave due to her situation. Does that tell you all that you need to know?”
David tried to focus on her words, wishing she had waited for him, but her fiery independent streak had obviously felt the need to do this herself.
“I’m sorry,” he said, attempting to diffuse her anger, which was likely hiding most of the hurt she felt. “You say you were told this. By who? Torrington himself?”
“His wife. Lord Torrington had no wish to speak with me.”
David mulled over her words in his mind. He didn’t know Lady Torrington well, but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t be enthralled by the thought of a long-lost daughter visiting her husband.
“I would suggest you speak with Torrington himself before you… before you leave,” he said, forcing the words out.
“No need,” she said, sitting on her bag as she attempted to flatten it enough that she could fasten the buckles on top. “I do not require his approval nor his presence in my life.”
“I wish you had waited for me,” he murmured, but she shook her head.
“I am capable of doing much on my own.”
“I realize that,” he acknowledged, beginning to become frustrated himself at the hostility emanating from her toward him. “I thought I could help.”
“You have done more than enough.”
“But Sarah, how could you just leave? You have all of your friends here in England.”
“I have written them letters as none are currently within London. They have their own lives to live. The ship I would like to take home will be leaving very shortly, within a few days, so I would have no time to visit them.”
Tears started to flow from her eyes once more, and David felt like shaking her, to return some sense to her, to make her see that it was not necessary to get on that ship and leave all behind.
“There will be other ships.”
“Yes, but I need to leavenow.”
