Page 37 of The Duke of Distraction
Her maid finished dressing Sarah’s hair, and after thanking her, Sarah made her way downstairs.The butler at Stag’s Court, a middle-aged fellow by the name of Seales, with a balding pate and dark hair on the sides of his head, directed her to the breakfast room.With tall windows that overlooked the lawn sloping from the east side of the manor, it was a bright and cheerful place to start the day.Or it would be if she felt remotely bright or cheerful.
“May I prepare you a plate?”a footman offered.
“I’ll just have toast,” she said.“Not too dark, if you don’t mind.”
The footman nodded and then suggested a cup of chocolate.
“I can’t refuse that,” Sarah said, dredging up a small smile that was surprisingly not as difficult to summon as it had been of late.But then chocolate was worth a smile at least.
He poured a cup of chocolate and set it on the table, then left the room, presumably to have the toast made.Sarah walked to the windows and looked out over the lawn.She’d never been to Stag’s Court before.When they’d arrived last night, Felix had said his grandfather had added a wing to the back of the Palladian-style house, but that the rest had been built in the late seventeenth century.It was larger and grander than Oaklands, her childhood home, which was a mere ten miles away.
It was about the same distance from London as Stag’s Court, and yet it seemed much farther away.Or maybe that was just because Sarah wanted it to be.The thought of taking the road her parents had taken, of seeing where they’d died, filled her with dread.
The threat of tears pricked the back of her eyes and made her throat raw.She turned from the window and saw Anthony walking into the breakfast room.She blinked at him in surprise, unable to remember the last time she’d seen him before noon, yesterday’s early departure notwithstanding.Granted, it was only a half hour before that time.
He was impeccably dressed and shaven, his hair neatly tamed.But he was a bit thin and pale, his eyes listless.He looked like she felt.And probably how she looked as well.In truth, she’d spent very little time contemplating her appearance over the past several weeks.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning.”He went to the sideboard where the chocolate pot sat and picked it up.
“That’s chocolate,” Sarah said.“I think the other one is coffee, but I could be wrong.”She knew Felix liked coffee.
“No tea?”Anthony asked.
“The footman will bring some.”Or she’d get it herself.She was just pleased to see her brother drinking something other than ale.It seemed coming to the country had been precisely what he needed.
“Is there food?”Anthony asked.
“Somewhere.”Sarah had noted it wasn’t on the sideboard, but then they hadn’t set a time to dine.“The footman offered me a plate.”
Just then, the footman came in with a tray.He lifted the cover and set it on the sideboard, revealing Sarah’s toast as well as butter and jam, which he situated on the table.
Sarah went to her seat, and the footman held her chair.“Thank you.”
Anthony took the seat beside Sarah at the small rectangular table.“Is there more than toast?”
“Eggs, ham, kippers, and rolls, my lord,” the footman said.
His use of “my lord” pulled at Sarah’s chest.The first time their butler in London had called Anthony “my lord,” Anthony had yelled at him to stop.He’d tried again last week, and Anthony had merely glowered.Today, Anthony’s mouth twisted into a frown, but he said nothing.
“Shall I make you a plate?”the footman asked.
“Yes,” Anthony murmured.He cleared his throat and said, “Thank you,” with more volume and clarity.
“Please bring some tea for him as well,” Sarah said.
The footman nodded and left again.
Sarah buttered her toast and wondered if she and Anthony would ever return to the way they’d been.
“Do you suppose we’ll ever feel happy again?”Anthony asked, as if he’d read her mind.
“We must,” Sarah said, moving to slather strawberry jam on her lightly toasted bread.“I can’t imagine a lifetime of feeling like this.”She wasn’t even sure how she’d describe the way she felt.Sad, certainly.But also angry and…lost.
“You seemed tense on the journey yesterday,” he said.“I should have said something.Or done something.”
“You were tense too.”She’d noticed but, like him, apparently, had been too wrapped up in her own emotions to help.“We’re a pair, aren’t we?”
