of those words, of that night...it had her lips curving up with a smile meant only for him. “I’m sure we have much to discuss.”
He blinked. “Er, yes. Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Lady Sarah, I—”
“Yes?” she prompted when he hesitated. Her heart felt as though it might melt in her chest. The dear man. So discomfited with nerves at seeing her again. So clearly overwhelmed with emotion.
I am too, she ached to say. She glanced around at the activity going on just behind her. But not here. Not now. For now she would have to settle for this.
He took a step toward her and her heart leapt. Shuffling through the snow, she ignored the cold wet that soaked through her slippers and stockings. She bit her teeth against a cold wind.
“Lady Sarah, there is much we need to discuss,” he started.
She grinned up at him. Oh yes. They had a whole life to plan. She leaned in closer, hoping to savor his warmth and inhale his scent. She would have to wait to feel his arms wrapped around her, but perhaps they would be waltzing together soon enough. “You will be attending the ball tomorrow evening, will you not?”
“The ball? Er, yes. Yes, of course. I look forward to seeing you there.” He shifted closer, those blue eyes sparkling with mischief and delight. “And Sarah…”
“Yes?” she breathed.
He would kiss her. She was certain of it. With servants around or not, he must have been just as tempted as she. Her eyes fluttered closed as her lips parted in breathless expectation.
“Sarah!” A low voice bit out her name, the sound so sharp it made her jump.
She whipped around to see that dreadful Everly approaching. Stalking toward her with murder in his eyes. An answering anger flared to life inside her as it always seemed to do when she was forced to be anywhere near the Earl of Everly.
Granted, she didn’t see him often. She hadn’t seen him once since Max had returned. The last time she’d had to bear his company had been at her father’s funeral.
The memory cast another prick of pain in that lovely bubbling happiness she’d felt upon seeing Mr. Stallworth. She cast a quick look back in his direction. Had he heard about her father’s passing?
She assumed not since he’d been away. If he’d known, surely he would have written to her. Perhaps even hastened his journey home.
But now was not the time to discuss it because he was backing away. Her brows came down as she half turned to watch him scrambling backward in the snow as though he would flee from the giant ogre named Everly who was marching toward them.
“You do not have to rush off,” she assured him under her breath.
But Mr. Stallworth was not looking at her, his gaze was fixed on Everly as he gave a nod and mumbled his greetings.
Everly ignored the other man. Of course he did. The abominable snob that he was, Everly likely refused to acknowledge anyone who did not have an ancient title attached to his name.
“Lady Sarah,” Mr. Stallworth said. “It was a pleasure.”
She turned, ignoring Everly as he’d ignored Mr. Stallworth. “Yes, indeed, Mr. Stallworth. I look forward to dancing with you tomorrow evening.”
Mr. Stallworth’s grin was sudden and adorably triumphant.
Was it brazen of her to suggest a dance? Perhaps. Everly would certainly think so.
She felt his large, overbearing presence at her back.
But his censure made her all the more glad that she’d been forward. He might have stood in her way the last time she’d hoped to unite with her love, but there was no way she’d let him ruin an opportunity for her again.
She waited until Mr. Stallworth had given one last wave and hurried into the carriage house before turning to face Everly, the smile melting off her face. “I suppose you’re pleased with yourself, running him off like that.”
“Hello, Sarah,” he said, that irritating smirk aimed at her with the full force of his conceit. “Lovely to see you again as well.”
She scowled, but her fierce expression went unnoticed as he glowered right back at her as he took in her state of attire. Or rather, her lack of clothing. “What are you doing outside in the snow without boots?” he demanded.
He unfastened his overcoat as he shot her a withering glare.
“How many times do I have to tell you to stop treating me like a child?” she demanded. She suspected she rather ruined her point by stomping