The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,58

old heart did a little tap dance. She knew that look, although she’d never seen it on the face of her grandson. Love.

“Grandmother, Sarah and I would like to stay for dinner if you don’t mind?”

“Mind. For heaven’s sake boy, this is your home, too. I’ll just go tell Martha,” Lady Clara said as she left the room.

“Did you enjoy today?” Alex asked, drawing Sarah into his arms before kissing her.

“Oh, yes!” she replied, breathless from the kiss. “I must confess, I felt as though I’d walked straight into the setting of a Regency novel.” She blushed a little at her confession. “And you, Lord Rutherford, you were quite dashing on your dark steed, looking every inch the lord and master.”

Alex pressed her denim-clad hips to his, the corner of his mouth tilted up at a rakish angle. “How about I throw you up on the back of my horse and carry you off to those ancient ruins and—”

“Ahem.” Lady Clara stood in the door, hands folded primly in front of her, but only to control her excitement. Perhaps she wasn’t such a bad matchmaker after all.

Sarah’s blush deepened to full-on red. Alex didn’t seem the least bit perturbed. When Sarah attempted to pull away, he kept his arm at her waist, holding her firmly by his side.

“Dinner will be served soon. You two must be parched after your long ride today. Martha is bringing refreshments shortly.”

“I’ll just go freshen up, if you’ll excuse me.” Sarah got to the door before she realized she didn’t know where she was going. “Where . . ?”

“Down the hall, my dear,” Lady Clara said, coming to her rescue. “Second door on the left.”

Alex watched her trim figure disappear through the door. He didn’t know which was better, the elegant backless dress, or the snug jeans and riding boots.

A soft smile played across his features. Last night, he’d witnessed, and, to his extreme pleasure, experienced the passionate side that formed the underpinnings of his sweet, reserved Sarah. A side he looked forward to exploring even more.

He’d also witnessed a bit of her stubbornness earlier when he tried to help her mount and then give her a brief review of the mechanics of riding English. A smile ghosted across his face at the memory. Her eyes flashing green sparks, she’d said, with a stubborn set to her chin, “I can do it myself. Don’t help.”

“So, it looks as though you two are having a nice time,” Lady Clara said, archly. “She is a lovely girl.”

“Yes, Grandmother, you don’t need to sing her praises. You’d be preaching to the choir at any rate.”

“Oh, Martha, set the tray there. Thank you.”

“Lemonade, dear?” Lady Clara asked, as she poured a glass.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Lady Clara couldn’t help but notice that Alex kept watching the door. She hid her smile as she poured another glass.

“It is a shame that she is leaving on Sunday,” Lady Clara nudged.

“Yes. I wanted to speak with you about that. Do you, that is, would you mind if I asked Sarah to stay a little longer . . . here . . . at Rutherford.”

If she wasn’t so old, she’d have danced a jig. “Oh, I think that is a lovely idea. She could have the Rose Room,” she continued. Conveniently located across the hall from Alex’s room, she thought smugly.

Lady Clara still beamed when Sarah returned. “Here you are my dear, a lovely glass of lemonade.”

Gratefully, Sarah took the glass as Martha came to announce dinner. Sarah hadn’t realized how thirsty she was, and she was unsure whether to bring the drink with her, or leave it.

“Come, my dear. Bring the lemonade with you.”

Thank God. She controlled the urge to guzzle the icy drink in a very unladylike manner. Alex wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her to the family dining room.

Dinner was a lovely affair. Sarah enjoyed watching Alex and Lady Clara interact. It was easy to see the love and affection they had for one another.

Lady Clara, in turn, enjoyed watching the interactions between Sarah and Alex. The little gestures of affection, the dreamy looks exchanged over sips of wine.

Alex was not immune to observations of his own. Sarah and his grandmother laughed over some Oxford anecdote, and he was reminded of his own mother’s interactions with his grandmother. The two women genuinely enjoyed one another’s company. He hoped his mother would feel the same when she met Sarah.

“Oh, my dear, I never will forget how beautiful you looked at

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