The Governess Club: Sara (26 page)

Reaching her destination, Sara took advantage of a well-sized rock and sat down, resting her legs. This truly was a more difficult walk than she was used to. Rubbing her legs, she looked over the pond and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of water. The waterfall, small and little more than a trickle in truth, streamed out of a large cave higher up on the rock face and hit the water with gentle splashes.

At the sound and smell of the water, she became acutely aware of the sweat drying on her body, making her skin sticky and uncomfortable. The water glistened invitingly, tempting her with its coolness and promised tranquility. She looked at the water, contemplating. She had only swum at the privacy of Cloverfields. This place wasn’t a private estate, but she had yet to see anyone else. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes examining the empty path just to assure herself of that fact.

Biting her lip, Sara looked back at the water. Without further thought, she stood and began to strip, starting with her bonnet. Soon everything was in a folded pile on the grass and she waded into the water, relishing the cleansing coolness washing over her skin, the looseness of her shift moving around her knees. When she had gotten to her hips, she turned around and lay on her back, spreading her arms out and floating as Nathan taught her, her now loose hair swirling around her head.

The water covered her ears, muffling all sound. She took a deep breath, her eyes sliding half-closed, her senses focused on the water surrounding her body. Small ripples from the waterfall bounced against her side, not threatening in the least. Her hands were sculling to keep her in place; her breathing, amplified in her ears, slowed as she gazed up at the bright blue sky, the occasional fluffy cloud entering her vision. Serenity flowed over her and Sara felt her limbs and mind relax. She closed her eyes the rest of the way and bathed in the relief circling in and around her body.

She lay there like that for several minutes before she felt her skin prickle, as though someone was watching her. She opened her eyes and lifted her head, looking toward the shore.

No one was there.

She put her feet on the bottom of the pond and righted herself, crouching to preserve her modesty, keeping her shoulders under the water. She looked around, trying to see as far down the path as she could in both directions.

No one was there.

Furrowing her brow, she lay back down, but her relaxed state from moments before did not return immediately. She was sure she had felt someone watching her. But she was being foolish, surely. People did not often take this path; she had not seen any other soul yet today, and even in the entire forest maze she did not often see others. She must have mistaken the prickles on her skin, thinking she was being watched when it was merely the cold water.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she tried to ease back into her state of serenity.

There it was again. The prickles. It couldn’t simply be the cold water; someone was watching her, she was sure of it.

Sara jerked her head up to see a tall figure standing close to the shore where she had entered the pond. Clad in his signature black, his cane held in loose fingers, Nathan stood watching her. The surprise of seeing him—seeing anyone there, in truth—jerked her, and Sara submerged in the water, her body now too tense to float. Her head went under just as she was trying to take a breath, filling her mouth and lungs with water.

She flailed, her lungs protesting the foreign substance and her throat automatically constricting, causing a spurt of panic to consume her. One of her heels hit the bottom of the pond, and the small part of her mind still retaining a sense of logic propelled her to dig that heel in and have the other one do the same. Some stability established, the panic began to ease. She was in the process of lifting her head above the water to take a breath of precious air when strong hands grasped her elbows and pulled her up.

Gasping and coughing, Sara found herself being held against Nathan’s chest. His hands remained around her elbows, but his grip was firm and steady. She coughed again, expelling the water from her throat and lungs, and breathed in fresh air, her body shaking from the brief ordeal.

Calming, Sara wiped the water from her face and pushed the wet tangles of hair that had plastered themselves around her cheeks. One of his hands released her elbow and helped her, gently tucking the hair back.

Oh good heavens.
Her eyes slid shut as his warm fingers brought sensory memories flooding back and her skin vibrated with his closeness. There was barely any space between them; it would only take a slight sway from either of them to make that space nonexistent. Sara became acutely aware of the man in front of her.

But she would not look at him. Could not. Not after what he had said to her, leaving her dignity in shreds around her feet. Had that been necessary? Where had all his courtesy that she had seen at Cloverfields gone? Before their assignation there had been times when he had been rough and harsh, but never deliberately hurtful.

His hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head back. She knew he wanted her to look at him, and part of her did not want to give him the satisfaction, but she could not resist. Opening her eyes, she found him studying her, a frown on his face. His jaw flexed as though he wanted to say something, but the silence remained broken only by the sound of the meager waterfall.

His thumb caressed her chin, moving up to trace her bottom lip. His eyes softened, not turning to the hot springs that accompanied his desire, but a warm glow that was unfamiliar to her. The foolish part of her whispered that it was a look of love, but she quickly dismissed that. Nathan Grant did not love anyone but himself. He had made that abundantly clear.

Yet his eyes were warm.

They lowered to her lips where his thumb was still tracing the bottom one. He took a deep breath and licked his lips. His fingers threaded into her tangled hair and he lowered his head, his intent obvious.

For a moment, Sara stood there and let it happen. She watched his head move closer to hers, his eyes closing and lips parting. She furrowed her brow, wondering at why everything was moving so slowly. She couldn’t understand why he wanted to kiss her, not when he had so bluntly rejected her just days before. Was it because of their assignation—did he now feel he had certain rights and could expect things from her? Or was it because she was in her shift, out of doors and wet, that he was submitting to his more base nature?

Yet his eyes had been warm. It was all so confusing.

Just as their lips were about to meet, she turned her head away and took a step back, moving away from his solid body and heat. His fingers tore from her hair at the movement and she saw his hand hover in the air. Surprise was revealed in his eyes when he looked at her, but Sara looked off to the side, swallowing, her unspoken statement unmistakable.

They stood as such for several long moments. His hand lowered to his side and he did not move. Sara could feel his eyes boring into her, but she did not return her gaze to his. The ants began to tickle her throat at the impending confrontation she knew was coming, but she refused to submit to this man who had taught her to be strong only to rip her strength away from her and destroy what little self-worth she had managed to attain.

Sara was no longer ignorant nor naïve. She knew she was the one who had instigated their affair and she would always carry that knowledge with her, if not the regret. But her turmoil of the last few days was his fault. No matter their history, no matter that her actions had led to a week of carnal knowledge, she did not deserve to be treated in the callous manner he had shown her.

Even if his eyes had been warm today.

He finally moved, turning in the water and striding out of the pond, his limp more pronounced as he picked his way without being able to see where his feet landed. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Once out of the water, he bent and picked up his discarded cane and hat, placing the latter on his head without looking back at her. He tugged on his coat, shook some water off of his breeches and began to walk away. He looked ridiculous, the lower half of his body sopping wet while the upper remained dry.

But Sara did not call out to stop him or ask him to come back.

S
ara stared at herself in the mirror. Anna was twisting the last bits of Sara’s hair into the elaborate coif that had been chosen. The dress, a pale muslin of Louisa’s that they had made over, sat on her, accentuating her red hair and pale complexion. Rarely used face paint decorated her and she had difficulty reconciling the reflection in the mirror with the one she saw most days.

Thankfully, rice powder had hidden the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep over the last few days. Sleep meant dreams that plagued her, of two different men coaxing her to choose them. Of a man who taught her how to swim and strode into a pond with warm eyes to help her. Of a man who was everything she had worked for and promised her security. Of a man who was synonymous with adventure and a man who guaranteed her a future.

No wonder she was having difficulty sleeping.

Her friends chattered around her, directing the last of the packing. It hadn’t taken long, for Sara did not have many belongings.

Your husband should be able to afford more things for you. Ensure he does.

“Sara? Is everything all right?” Louisa’s voice broke into her reverie.

Sara blinked. “Yes, everything is fine.”

“You seem distracted.” The concern did not leave Louisa’s face or voice.

She managed a smile. “It is just all the excitement, I think. I can hardly believe this is all happening.”

“I remember thinking the same thing,” Claire said with a smile. “Jacob swept me off my feet so quickly my head spun for a week after the wedding.”

“Stephen was no less eager, despite his reserved manner,” Bonnie chimed in. “Mr. Pomeroy knows how lucky he is for you to be marrying him.”

“Indeed,” Claire continued. “And we all have chipped in to get you something special. All of us, even Jacob and Stephen.”

Anna patted the last of her hair into place and Sara turned around to look at her friends. “You did not have to get me anything. Truly.”

“Oh, hush,” Louisa scolded. “You are supposed to squeal and say thank you.”

Claire produced a narrow box made of dark wood. She handed it to Sara. “This is from all of us. You deserve something special.”

“And sparkly,” Bonnie said, sitting on the bed.

Sara opened the box, revealing a set of two dozen hairpins. On one end of each were small diamonds, designed to catch the light when worn. Sara pressed her hand to her mouth, the generosity of her friends overwhelming her. “Oh, I cannot—truly I cannot. I don’t deserve this.”

“Of course you do,” Claire said firmly, taking the box from her hands and beginning to put the hairpins in. “You have given so much to us.”

Louisa joined her in the task. “And taken so little for yourself. Just look at this room. I do not know why you deny yourself even small comforts. Do not begrudge us a little pampering for you.”

Tears filled Sara’s eyes. She had known her friends cared for her, but to have the evidence presented was another matter.

But did they truly know her? As Louisa had stated, they didn’t know why she didn’t indulge in certain comforts, did not know of her longing for adventure, did not see her for who she could be. It never would have crossed their minds to consider her capable of asking a man for an illicit affair or lying to them about a visit to a nonexistent aunt to cover up said affair. They didn’t even know how she had stood up to Mrs. Glendoe.

Only one man knew her. Only one man preferred her. Only one man wanted to put his tongue into her mouth again and again and again.

And she wanted that man.

“There you are,” Claire said proudly, patting the last hairpin in place. “Take a look.”

Sara turned her head, watching the diamonds catch the light, making her hair sparkle just as Bonnie had predicted. The effect was breathtaking and she could not help but think of herself as a nymph.

Can I not have my own perception of how a nymph should look?

Yes he can. And he did. She was his Nymph, and he had looked at her with warm eyes at the waterfall.

Sara’s chest loosened with her decision. She was his Nymph. Charles Pomeroy was a good man, but he would not make her happy, just as she would not make him so. It was that simple.

A smile spread across her face. Nathan would come for her. He would stop the wedding. Oh, true, he had said at the assembly that he was not that sort of fellow, but she knew the truth. The true man was the one she had met at Cloverfields, the one who had showed her kindness and compassion and affection in everything he did. He was not perfect and she did not want him to be so. She loved him as he was and as he would be in the future.

All he had to do was stop the wedding. Which he would. She knew it.

“Right,” Bonnie said, clapping her hands. “It is time to go to the church.”

Sara stood and smiled. “Then let us go.”

“L
et him speak now or forever hold his peace.” Vicar Warren’s voice resonated in the stone church, wafting over the people gathered for the marriage ceremony.

Charles’ gaze remained on hers, his mouth fighting a happy grin. His rich chocolate eyes sparkled at her, bringing to mind a boy with a hard-to-keep secret. His happiness was a heavy weight in her stomach.

The silence in the church grew oppressive. Uncertain, Sara glanced around at the congregation. Everyone was looking up at the altar, variations of expectation and joy on their faces. Her friends sat at the front, Claire beaming at her, Bonnie with one of Sir Stephen’s handkerchiefs at her eyes. Louisa was sitting to the side a bit farther back, leaving room for Jacob and Stephen to sit with their wives, but when her eyes met Sara’s, she gave a small smile and a nod of encouragement.

Sara’s eyes drifted over the rest of the small gathering, looking for one person in particular. She didn’t see him.