Sleepless at Midnight (37 page)

Foolish, ridiculous dreams that she should have known better than to pin her hopes upon. She’d known, of course, that she risked her heart. But somehow she hadn’t anticipated that when it broke it would hurt this much. Hadn’t realized it would leave such a gaping, raw, hollow space in her chest. Hadn’t known her very soul would be lost along with her heart. She walked to the window and looked down at the gardens below. Did the money Matthew’s father claim to have hidden there truly exist? Or were his words simply the ramblings of a pain-ridden delirious man drawing his last breaths?

Reaching into the pocket of her gown, she withdrew the slip of paper on which she’d written Matthew’s father’s last words. She held the list toward the meager sunlight and studied it for what felt like the thousandth time. Fortune. Save estate. Hidden here. Garden. In garden. Golden flower. Fern. Fleur-de-lis.

Surely there was a clue she was missing. She again mentally ran through the Latin names of every golden flower and species of fern she could think of, but nothing offered a new suggestion. After staring at the words for another minute, she blew out a sigh, refolded the paper and tucked it into her pocket.

With a final glance around, she quit the room, closing the door behind her, the soft click reverberating through her soul like a death knell.

In the foyer, she was greeted by Danforth, who, after a tail wagging greeting, resumed what appeared to be a vigil by the window nearest the front door. Tildon, who also greeted her when she entered, explained, “Danforth takes up residence in that spot whenever his lordship is away.”

And when he returned, he’d have a new bride with him. Stop. Stop thinking about it. Yes, she needed to stop thinking about it. Because when she did, it hurt so much she could barely breathe. Sarah moved to the window and scratched behind Danforth’s ears. The dog looked up at her with dark, adoring eyes that seemed to say, Oh, yes, that’s the spot.

“Good-bye, my friend,” she whispered. “I’ll miss you.”

Danforth tilted his head and issued a rumble in his throat, as if to ask, What’s this? You’re leaving, too?

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to meet my Desdemona. I think you two would have gotten along like bacon and eggs.”

Danforth licked his chops at the mention of his two favorite foods, though as far as she could tell, all foods were his favorites. She gave his head a final pat, then, after bidding farewell to Tildon, she left the house.

There was a beehive of activity in the curved drive. Footmen carrying trunks and smaller luggage items to the various waiting carriages, others securing them to the vehicles, the travelers standing about in small groups, saying their good-byes, waiting to depart. Sarah spotted Carolyn, who was speaking with Lords Thurston and Hartley. When she approached, she heard her sister say, “Will you gentlemen please excuse me? I need to speak with my sister.”

Although both gentlemen seemed reluctant to relinquish her company, they moved off, joining Lord Berwick and Mr. Jennsen, who stood nearby.

“You quite saved me,” Carolyn said in an undertone after she and Sarah had walked several yards away. “Heavens, I believe Lord Hartley was about to propose!”

“Propose what exactly?”

A short huff of laughter came from Carolyn. “I’m not quite sure, but I didn’t wish to hear it, no matter what it was.” They halted near Carolyn’s carriage, which bore the Wingate crest on its black lacquered door, and her sister gave her a searching look. “Are you all right, Sarah?”

Before Sarah could answer, Carolyn hurried on, “I would have thought you’d be anxious to return home, but you’re pale and your eyes…you look so sad.”

To Sarah’s mortification, tears pooled in her eyes. “I’m tired,” she said. Her conscience slapped her, because while the statement was certainly true, it was hardly truthful. Carolyn reached out, clasped her hand and offered her a smile surely meant to be encouraging.

“Tonight you’ll be sleeping in your bed. You’ll rest better in your familiar surroundings.”

Sarah swallowed the lump of misery that rose in her throat at the prospect of her own bed in which she’d lie alone. And not sleep.

Carolyn gently squeezed her hand. “I’m grateful to you for these last several months, Sarah. I couldn’t have faced reentering society without your help and support.”

Sarah returned the gentle squeeze. “Yes, you could have. You’re much stronger than you think.”

Carolyn shook her head. “Finding the desire to go on without Edward has been…difficult. But after three years, I felt that he would have wanted me to embrace life again.”

“Of course he would have. He loved your smile, as do I. It is a gift to see it again.”

“Attending all those soirees with me when I know you would have preferred being home, pursuing your own interests…I don’t know how to thank you.”

“There is no need as you are my dearest interest. I would attend one hundred soirees if it would make you smile.”

“One hundred?” Carolyn said in an amused voice.

“Yes. So please don’t ask me to.” Sarah gave an exaggerated shudder. “I believe I’d go mad.”

“I promise not to take advantage of your good nature. Especially after you so kindly formed the Ladies Literary Society of London for my benefit.”

“Not for your benefit,” Sarah protested, but Carolyn shook her head.

“My benefit. And I love you for it.” An impish grin curved her lips. “I’d say our first venture into scandalous literature was a huge success. I can’t wait to begin our next selection.”

“Nor can I. Based on my research of the subject, our next foray promises to be a thrilling adventure tale with enough scandal attached to it to make any matron reach for the hartshorn.”

“Which is precisely why we chose it,” they said in unison, then laughed.

“I imagine you’ll relish getting back to your own garden,” Carolyn said, “although the gardens here are spectacular.”

Sarah nearly drowned in the wave of sadness that washed over her. “Yes, they are.”

“Did you have a favorite spot?”

“It would be difficult to choose, but perhaps the area where the statue is.” Where I had my first conversation with Matthew. “It was like a hidden garden within a garden.”

“Yes, that was a lovely section. Which goddess was the statue?”

“Flora.” Sarah frowned. “Flora…” she repeated slowly, her words to Carolyn tickling something in the back of her mind. Hidden. Garden within a garden. And Matthew’s father’s last words…Garden. In garden.

Her heart seemed to skip two beats. Could Matthew’s father have literally meant garden in garden? Could he have meant the area where the statue of Flora was located?

She closed her eyes and pictured the area. Were there any golden flowers surrounding Flora?

Golden flower, golden flower…

Golden flower.

An idea hit her so hard she gasped. Good lord, was it possible? Her eyes popped open to find Carolyn staring at her.

“Are you all right, Sarah?”

She was so excited she could barely stand still. “Yes, I’m fine. But I must go I, um, left something in the garden.” A statement she prayed would turn out to be true.

“One of the footmen can retrieve it for you ”

“No! I mean, that’s not necessary. We’ll be cooped up in the carriage for so long, I’d enjoy a quick walk. I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Don’t leave without me.”

“Of course not ”

But Sarah didn’t wait for her sister to finish. She had already turned and was striding back toward the house, her mind racing. Behind her, she heard amidst the buzz of conversations a male voice ask, “Where is your sister off to in such a hurry, Lady Wingate?” And her sister’s reply, “She left something in the garden…”

She heard no more as she entered the house and hastily told Tildon she’d left something in the garden. The butler favored her with an odd look, but she continued on, practically running across the foyer then toward the drawing room, where she exited the house. The instant she hit the flagstone terrace, she hiked up her skirts and ran, Matthew’s father’s final words reverberating through her mind. Golden flower, golden flower…Dear God, if she were right…

By the time she reached the hidden alcove where Flora gently spilled water from her urn, Sarah’s lungs felt ready to explode. Breathing hard, she dropped to her knees and, heedless of the bits of gravel digging into her skin through her gown, began to examine the base of the statue, running her fingers over every inch of the stone. Hope burned through her veins, growing stronger with every rapid heart beat. She had to be right. Had to be.

She’d completed nearly a quarter of the way around the circumference when she noticed a crack in the stone. A crack that appeared too perfectly straight to have occurred naturally. Scarcely able to breathe, she applied her fingers to the thin opening and discovered a small, rectangular-shaped section that appeared to be loose.

She tried to pry it farther apart, but quickly realized she’d require some sort of tool. Jumping to her feet, she cast her gaze about for something, anything, a stick that might aid her, but a hasty search yielded nothing. Damnation, she’d have to return to the house. Or the groundskeeper’s cottage was closer. She’d caught a glimpse of Paul working at the other end of the garden during her mad dash across the terrace, which meant he wasn’t at the cottage. Which suited her, as she didn’t wish to answer any questions. She’d just borrow a tool or a knife and he’d never be the wiser. She’d just turned in that direction when she heard footfalls crunching in the gravel. Based on the sound, clearly a man. A man in a hurry. Seconds later that man appeared, skidding to a halt at the sight of her.

Sarah stared. In stunned amazement. At Matthew.

Chest heaving, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

She blinked twice to make certain it was truly him and not some figment of her broken-hearted imagination. When he didn’t disappear, she moistened her dust dry lips. “What are you doing here?”

Matthew drew several deep, calming breaths, then slowly approached her. She appeared to be frozen in place. When an arm’s length separated them, he stopped. And forced himself to keep his hands at his sides. If he didn’t, he’d give into the craving to pull her into his arms, and if he did, he’d lose all hope of saying all the things he needed to.

“I’m here because there’s something I need to tell you, Sarah.”

She appeared to shake off whatever manner of trance she’d fallen into at the sight of him.

“Matthew, I’m so glad you’re here. I think I’ve ”

He touched gentle fingertips to her lips. “I can’t let another second go by without telling you that I love you.”

When he’d stopped her from continuing, she appeared about to argue with him, but now her eyes widened. “You love me?”

“I love you. So much I can barely think straight. I was halfway to London when I realized I couldn’t do it.”

“Do what?”

Unable to keep from touching her, he clasped her hands, entwining their fingers. “Continue to London.”

“So you came back. And I’m so glad you did because I’ve ”

“No. I didn’t come back.”

She raised her brows and gave him a pointed up and down stare. “Yet all evidence indicates the contrary.”

“I mean I did come back. Obviously. But not right away. I paid a visit to your family before returning home.”

“That’s wonderful. I must tell you ” Her words cut off as his clearly sank in. “My family?”

“Yes. Instead of continuing to London, I visited your parents.”

“But why? I cannot fathom a single reason why you would do that.”

His lips twitched at her familiar saying. “Don’t worry. I can fathom enough reasons for the both of us.”

“I’d be fascinated to know even one of these reasons.”

“Actually, there is only one reason.” He lifted one of her hands and pressed a kiss against her fingers. “I told them I wished to marry their daughter.”

He searched her eyes for her reaction, hoping to see joy. Instead, he saw complete and utter shock. In fact, her skin went totally pale. Not precisely the reaction he’d hoped for. When she remained silent, he said, “The only other time I’ve ever seen a more flabbergasted expression was in your parents’ parlor several hours ago.”

“I…I cannot imagine that they were more shocked than I am.”

“Well, at first I admit there was a bit of confusion.”

“I imagine so.”

“They assumed the daughter I wished to marry was your sister.”

She blinked. Then nodded. “Yes, I’m certain they would assume that.”

“When I told them I meant their daughter Sarah ”

“I’m certain my mother didn’t believe you.”

“As a matter of fact, she didn’t.” Matthew’s jaw tightened as he recalled his conversation with Sarah’s mother. Her lips had puckered like a drawstring and she’d basically told him he was a fool to even look at Sarah when Carolyn was so very lovely.

He’d taken a great deal of satisfaction in giving the woman who’d shown so little kindness toward Sarah the set-down she so richly deserved. He made certain she understood that he’d tolerate no such disparaging comments in the future or further insults against Sarah, who, she’d be wise to recall, would soon be Marchioness Langston. Sarah’s father had remained silent during the entire exchange. When it was over, however, he’d shot Matthew an approving look. Indeed, he looked as if he wanted to applaud.

“Although your mother didn’t believe me at first, I managed to convince her I meant you. And only you. Always you.” His gaze searched hers, and the stunned confusion in her eyes prompted him to say, “And now, it seems, I need to convince you.”

Lifting their joined hands, he pressed them to his chest. “Sarah, I fell in love with you in this very spot, the first time we spoke. Since that moment, you haven’t been out of my thoughts for so much as a second. Your eyes, your smile, they grabbed me by the heart, and I’ve been yours since that day.