The Duchess Hunt (5 page)

Now, his serious gaze didn’t waver from
her as he said, “If we don’t find my mother right away, I think it’d be best if
Esme accompanied me when I return to London.”

Snapped out of the memory of their kiss,
Sarah sucked in a breath. If Esme left Ironwood Park with Simon, all of the
siblings would be gone, all of them heading in different directions to broaden
the search for the duchess.

“Esme is nineteen years old,” Simon
continued, a musing tone in his voice. “She’s a young woman, and she ought to
be in the company of her peers and friends during the Season. She ought to be
in London, not isolated out here in the country. I know my mother believed it
would be best for her to remain at home this year, but I disagree. Keeping her
locked away isn’t going to help her in the end.”

Esme had been quite content to stay at
Ironwood Park rather than go to London for the Season. She’d had her come-out
last year, and though Sarah hadn’t been given details, by all accounts it had
been disastrous. Esme had told Sarah that everything about the marriage mart
made her insides curdle. “I find it barbaric,” she’d told Sarah, “that we are
forced to lay ourselves out like slabs of meat at the market to be inspected
and discarded if found lacking.”

“But what if you aren’t found lacking?”
Sarah had asked.

“Even worse!” Esme had exclaimed. “Then
it’s a competition between the hungriest gentlemen, and if the poor lady is
unlucky, a feeding frenzy.”

At social events held at Ironwood Park,
Esme was quiet and desperately shy. When Sarah thought of Esme in London,
something inside her tightened with sympathy, because she just couldn’t imagine
Esme thriving amongst a bevy of beautiful and elegant ladies whinging about
which jeweled necklace to wear for that night’s ball.

“There is also the concern that Ironwood
Park might not be entirely safe right now,” Simon added.

“I’d be here with her. I’d keep her safe,”
Sarah said. So would the other servants.

The corner of his lips tilted upward as he
studied her. “I believe you could protect her, Sarah, if I gave you that
responsibility. Which is why I’d like you to come, too.”

“To… London?”

“Yes.”

“I… I…”
London
. Sarah had never been to
London. Even when she was a little girl, she’d wanted desperately to see the
city someday.

“I would like to employ you to be Esme’s
companion.”

“Her companion? But I can’t!” She said the
last word over a heavy lump in her throat.

He frowned. “Why not?”

Heat tightened over her cheeks. “I am not
of genteel birth.”

He shrugged. “But you comport yourself as
if you were. No one needs to know that you’re a gardener’s daughter. The moment
you open your mouth, no one will question your upbringing.”

“But
I
know I am not a lady,” she said. “And so do you. And Esme, too.”

He met her eyes again, utterly serious. “I
really don’t care.”

She sat back, stunned. Simon
always
cared about matters of propriety.

He continued, “You are the best choice to
be a companion to Esme. You’re very good with her – I watched how you calmed
her tonight. She adores you, and she’ll listen to you.” He rested his hands
loosely over his knees. “London is a very busy place. For me, especially. I am
rarely home. I couldn’t countenance leaving her without proper companionship.”

Sarah swallowed hard and forced herself to
say it, because as much as she wanted to go to London and be with Simon and
Esme, it was the right thing to say. “You could easily find someone else, Your
Grace.”

Someone more qualified. He would only need
to tell a few people that he was searching for a companion for Esme, and
potential candidates would come running in droves hoping to fill the position
of companion to the Duke of Trent’s sister.

“I thought about it, but no.”

“Why not?”

He broke her gaze to look down at his
hands. “You’re sensible. I trust you with Esme. More than I would trust any
stranger.”

The way he said the last word made the
breath whoosh from her lungs. When she’d caught it again, she asked, “What if
someone should find out I’m just a housemaid?”

With a sigh, he said, “If the
ton
is that hungry for gossip, let them. In the end, it won’t make any
difference to our lives. And the rumors will eventually fade. People in lesser
positions than head housemaid have been raised to higher positions than lady’s
companion.”

“But you… you despise scandal,” she
whispered.

“True. But there are things more important
than risking a small scandal, Sarah. My sister’s happiness and safety, for
one.”

“But Lady Esme? It might not be such a
minor risk to her.” It was Esme’s reputation ultimately at stake, and unlike
Sarah’s, Esme’s reputation mattered.

Simon’s gaze searched her, probing. “Do
you find my sister so weak?”

“Esme is tenderhearted, yes, but this has
little to do with a person’s weakness or strength, Your Grace. It is more about
how the
ton
can sink its poison-tipped claws into a person and never let her
go.”

“Ah. I see you have listened to our
stories of Town.” He leaned toward her slightly, his expression somber and
serious. “I am willing to risk it in this case, again, because the threat is
slim and vastly outweighed by the benefit of you being in London with Esme. I
can lay it all out for my sister if you’d prefer, but if she has any sense at
all, she’ll come to the same conclusion.”

Sarah sighed. She knew Esme well enough to
believe that she would indeed agree with this plan – to Esme, Sarah was as
comfortable as a well-worn old blanket and preferable to a stranger any day –
but whether her agreement would be based on sense, Sarah had her doubts.

Still, she understood Simon’s logic. He
was willing to risk a relatively minor scandal, in this case, for the ultimate
good of his family.

It warmed her that he thought her presence
would be for the good of his family.

“Very well,” she told him. “I’ll go.”

He raised a brow. “But you don’t wish to?”

She hesitated, then smiled. “I haven’t
ventured beyond the village since I first stepped foot into Ironwood Park
sixteen years ago. During those years, I have watched you and your siblings
come and go again and again, and…” Her voice dwindled.

“And…?”

She squeezed the front edge of the bench,
the marble cold and hard under her palms. “Well,” she admitted, “I’ve always
wished I could go with you.”

He smiled at that, showing that slight
cleft in his chin. She’d pressed her lips there three years ago. She averted
her gaze.

“You should have told one of us sooner,”
he said.

She laughed softly. “Lord knows what
people might have thought if I accompanied Lord Luke to the Continent or Lord
Theo to Cambridge.”

A shadow passed over his face. As he
looked away, Sarah saw a muscle twitch in his jaw, and it struck her then
exactly what people would have thought.

“Oh,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean in
that way.”

He was silent for a moment before his gaze
swung back to her. “I know you didn’t.”

But the way he looked at her, his eyes
narrowing, turning dark green and hungry and possessive, stole her breath.

In three years, Simon’s skin hadn’t come
in contact with hers. But it did now, warm and firm, his fingers heavy and
blunt and so masculine as he cupped her face in his palm. His cedar scent
wrapped around them both like a cocoon, and his heat radiated through her.

She tried so hard not to close her eyes,
to sink into his palm. But the pleasure of touching him was so overwhelming,
she couldn’t help herself.

“The last time we were here… on this
bench…” His voice was a husky whisper. “It was so long ago, but I’ve craved
your mouth ever since.”

Heat emanated from him. His breath
whispered across her cheek. She released a shaky sigh of pleasure at his words.

“I’ve wanted to touch you everywhere. Kiss
you all over.”

She opened her eyes, because she wanted to
see him as she leaned closer in —

He dropped his hand from her face, jerking
back as if she’d burned him.

“God.” A low groan emitted from his throat
as he thrust his hand into his hair and turned away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t
have said that.”

“It’s… all right…” she managed to say
through her dry throat. Her skin was still buzzing from the contact, her cheek
tingling and warm where he’d touched her.

“Sarah – it was a mistake. I shouldn’t
ever have touched you. It was disrespectful of me… and wrong.”

“Oh… Your Grace. No.” She had felt
anything but disrespected that night. She’d felt…
desired
. And for the last three years, she’d
savored that feeling.

“It was late at night, and I took
advantage of you.”

“No,” she repeated.

“I shouldn’t have.”

He rose to his feet. She, stubbornly,
remained seated.

He clenched his hands at his sides. “I’ve
spent three years reminding myself of how wrong it was to touch you, and yet I
sit here and all I can think about is putting my hands all over you. Tasting
you all over again.”

His words sent a delicious shudder through
her body. She wanted that, too. She gazed up at him, waiting, wishing he’d give
in and sit beside her again, take her into his arms, and drown her in his
kisses.

Raising his hand, he bent his head and
rubbed his temple, then blew out a breath and met her gaze again. “I shouldn’t
– mustn’t – touch you. I want to do right by you, Sarah. It is morally
reprehensible for me to have these feelings for someone who is under my care.”

If she were a London debutante, it might
be different. But she was Sarah Osborne, his head housemaid, and she understood
exactly why Simon felt like it would be morally reprehensible to touch her
again. It had everything to do with those vast chasms that separated her social
class from his.

Damn them, she thought brutally. Why must
it matter? He was hungry for her – she could see it in his eyes, hear it in his
words. And, Lord knew, she was hungry for him, too.

Her gaze dropped to his fist, clenched so
desperately at his side. He really did believe it would be wrong to touch her.
She knew Simon’s deepest fear was that he’d become like his parents, whose
lives had been replete with scandal, betrayal, and flagrant promiscuity.

Above all, she didn’t want him to lose
sight of who he was, who he wanted to be, who he never intended to be.

If he ever did touch her again, she didn’t
want him to regret it afterward.

So she took a deep breath and rose,
brushing the wrinkles from her skirt to keep her shaky hands occupied. Giving
him a slight smile, she asked, “Walk me home?”

“Of course.”

They walked down the path side by side.
Awareness of him still resonated through her, stronger than ever. She watched
him from the corner of her eye as they walked.

She knew there was wisdom in his
reluctance. His brother Luke had boldly ventured into an affair with one of the
maids at Ironwood Park once, and it had turned into an unpleasant situation all
around. What could come of a relationship between a housemaid and a duke? Very
little but heartbreak for the housemaid. Sarah knew this. She wasn’t stupid.

Her traitorous body clearly had no
intention of listening to her mind, though, because it desperately longed for
more of his touch. For another of those hot, passion-filled kisses of three
years ago. For
more
.

Simon stared ahead, silent and brooding,
his gaze never wavering from the path. When it narrowed in spots, he stepped
aside to give her a wide enough berth to pass before falling in behind her.

The distance to Papa’s cottage felt
interminable when it usually seemed so short. When they finally reached the
cottage door, Simon finally spoke. “I don’t want you walking the grounds alone
anymore. Not until we discover exactly what happened to the duchess. I should have
had someone walk you home tonight.”

“But —”

He raised his hand. His gaze drilled into
her. “From now until we leave for London, a footman will accompany you where
you need to go.”

She sighed. “All right.”

Stepping forward, he bent low over her,
his eyes narrow. “I know you, Sarah. You haven’t stopped wandering about since
you were eight years old. Promise me you won’t until we’re sure it’s safe.”

He was close enough that she could wrap
her arms around him and pull him to her. Her gaze flickered to his parted lips,
so close, so deliciously edible. Her heartbeat spiked in anticipation. And for
the first time, she realized she could do it, if she chose to. She could bring
her lips to his and take them. He wasn’t the only one who could initiate a
kiss. She could kiss him, too.