I was running short of apples and was saving them for the duke, who eventually stepped down himself. Surprisingly, he seemed more amused than anything else.” Sarah paused, remembering her first sight of Leonard Blackmore, the young Duke of Vexen. The world had tilted with only half-understood excitement, for he was not staid and self-important at all. He was tall and handsome with laughing eyes and a mouth very ready to smile.
“Did you throw the apple at him?” Lady Whitmore asked.
Sarah smiled. “I did. Knocked his hat off, too. But he just picked it up, and the next two apples I threw, he caught in the hat. Then he sent the carriage on and climbed up the tree. For a moment, I thought he’d come to punish the impudent village girl, but he didn’t. I told him who I was, and he laughed and sat on the branch beside me.”
“He sounds…fun,” Lady Whitmore said as Sarah stopped talking to eat.
“He was,” Sarah replied, when she had swallowed. “In fact, we got on so well that I resolved to be on my best behavior for the rest of his visit. I dressed in my finest gown for dinner, even let the maid curl my hair, and then went to my parents and told them I would do it. I would marry the duke.”
She paused again, trying not to feel the hurt and humiliation she had known two years ago. The hard, little shell of anger and vengeance saved her once more. “He had already left Merrin Park. He told my father he could not consider marriage with me because I was a hoyden, that he needed a well-bred and cultured wife fit for the best drawing rooms in Europe.”
Lady Whitmore blinked. “That seems a shocking turnaround from the man who climbed a tree to laugh and joke with you.”
Sarah shrugged carelessly. “Apparently, I was amusing enough for outdoor entertainment but not fit for his drawing room.”
Lady Whitmore sat back in her chair, while the servants came in and cleared the game pie away. They brought in desserts and again departed.
“And so, you decided to become what he wanted?” Lady Whitmore guessed. “What your family wanted. A young lady of culture and accomplishment who outshines all others?”
“More or less.”
“Just so that he will marry you?” Lady Whitmore said with a hint of pity.
Sarah laughed. “Oh, dear me, no. So that he will beg me on bended knee to marry him. And fully appreciate the humiliation of rejection.”
Chapter Two
“You have gone to a lot of trouble,” Lady Whitmore observed when she had recovered her breath, “for what you rightly call a petty revenge.”
“It is not just for him,” Sarah admitted. “It’s also for my parents. I want them to see if they like me as they wanted me to be.”
“You think you have grown…above them?” Lady Whitmore asked.
Sarah considered. “No, not above. I am still Sarah underneath all the manners and the learning and accomplishments. But I might not want them to see that immediately.”
Again, she had the impression that her hostess’s steady eyes saw straight through to her soul.
“You are right,” Sarah said abruptly. “It is petty and vengeful.”
“And will do the hurt child a lot of good while exerting no lasting damage on the parents who neglected her and then rejected who she had grown into?”
Sarah’s breath caught. “You are…incisive.”
A smile flickered on Lady Whitmore’s lips. “And the young man? The duke? His punishment is a broken heart. Is that not lasting damage?”
“I considered that,” Sarah said. “But, no, I don’t think so. A man as shallow as he turned out to be has no feelings deep enough to be hurt so very badly. It will hurt his pride and perhaps make him miserable for a week or so.”
“And that is enough for you?”
“It is, now. To be honest, somewhere in this last year, my motives changed. I still want my revenge, but the journey I took is for me. And in the real world, I believe I can find happiness from that.”
Lady Whitmore looked thoughtful, which was at least better than disgusted. “So, you would seek him out at ton parties and captivate him? In public? While becoming the rage of London?”
“That is my plan.”
“Hmm.” Lady Whitmore spooned syllabub into her mouth. “Delicious. One thing more, Lady Sarah. Dukes—particularly young dukes—are not so thick on the ground. Would I be correct in assuming yours is the Duke of Vexen?”
Sarah hesitated, but she already told everything else. She nodded, and Lady