not follow. And when she turned to flee, his footsteps did not pursue.
Did he know how badly she was hurting as she hurried away? She suspected he did. She thought maybe that was why he let her go, because maybe he knew that if he fought her on this, she would cave.
She would let him take care of her.
But that wasn’t the kind of love she wanted in her life, and it would never be enough. She must keep herself from falling head over heels in love.
She flinched as her heart slammed into her ribcage in protest.
Too late, it seemed to say. She was too late. Her heart had gone and given itself to this man, despite the fact that what he felt for her could never be the same. It could never be equal.
It was friendship and protectiveness, but that was not real love.
That was not the partnership she wanted in her life, nor the respect that she would crave.
It would kill her in the end if she allowed it to go on any further.
She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob as she reached the doors to the house. Once inside, she leaned back against the door as her lungs struggled to work, as tears threatened to spill off her lashes.
She found herself counting breaths as she listened to the mundane sounds of people chatting in the other room and servants moving past in the hallway just beyond this vestibule.
She could not stay here forever. Daisy, or one of the others, would come looking.
And besides… She pushed herself away from the door with one long, steadying breath. Avoiding the others would help nothing. She’d merely raise more questions about where she’d been and with whom.
The last thing she needed was to give Stallworth’s story credence if he decided to talk.
And so she fixed a smile on her face and went to join the others in the drawing room.
“There she is!” Lily called out as she walked in. Lily was seated beside Marigold, with Daisy perched on her other side. “Marigold was telling the other ladies about this morning’s beautiful ceremony.”
Daisy leaned forward. “Lily was telling them. Marigold was suffering through the attention, as usual.”
Marigold’s cheeks were indeed pink from being the center of attention, but she was still glowing with happiness from this morning’s wedding.
“I cannot believe you held a secret ceremony,” Virginia said. “How delightful.” Daisy’s American cousin was shaking her head with disbelief, awe written plainly on her pretty face. With delicate features and blonde hair, she resembled Daisy in looks, but her confident bearing and her plain-spoken demeanor held a decidedly American flair.
Lily continued with the story and if Daisy cast Sarah a few inquisitive glances, no one else seemed to notice and Sarah, for her part, kept that silly smile so firmly in place it felt as though her jaw might shatter at any moment.
Better your jaw than your heart, she told herself.
Once again her heart clenched painfully and she could have sworn she heard it say, Too late.
“Sarah, where have you been?” Her mother called to her from the other side of the room, where she was entertaining some of the other female houseguests. “You missed breakfast.”
“Sorry, Mother.”
Her mother tsked. “You’ve missed the gentlemen. Max has taken them all off to cut boughs so we might decorate for Christmastide.”
She hoped her smile was sanguine as she nodded. Theo would be off with the other men then. She had a reprieve. That was something, she supposed.
Her mother moved on, forgetting about Sarah’s belated arrival as she continued her own story about this morning’s excitement, leaving Sarah free to move about the room. Which she did. Aimlessly.
Everywhere she looked she saw merry party guests or friends all too excited to gush about Marigold’s next wedding—the grand event itself—which was to take place the next day. “Come, join me,” Abigail said. She’d been eyeing Sarah from her seat in the corner where she’d been reading a book. She patted the seat beside her and handed over the book the moment Sarah was seated. “Here,” she said, her voice filled with wry amusement. “It helps if you have a prop.”
Sarah blinked at the other woman who was so clearly not welcome amongst Marigold’s friends, and too young to be spending all her time with Sarah’s mother and the other matrons. “I beg your pardon?”
Abigail arched her brows as if to say, don’t try and fool me. “You are devastated, am I right?” Sarah’s mouth