Love's Fortress Read online

  The vicar, Mr. Matthews, was also here. Gideon and Charles had told her he knew of the relationship between the ducal couple and Mr. Haversham. There was something about Mr. Matthews that set her at ease. She feared him far less than the others.

  The presence of near strangers in what she now thought of as her home did indeed overset her nerves a little. But it was this conversation with Mr. Haversham that had her shaking with trepidation. She’d planned what she wanted to say very carefully over the last week, since the invitations had been sent and accepted. Now she could hardly think of the speech she had prepared.

  “I am quite well, Mrs. North, thank you,” he answered politely. “And you? Married life seems to agree with you. Even married life with North.” He raised his brow and smiled, and the twinkle in his eye took the sting from his remark.

  Sarah gave him a mock reprimanding look. “Do you not like my husband, Mr. Haversham?”

  He laughed. “Much more tonight than before.” He looked around the drawing room, which Sarah had redone in Chinese red and light blue, a mixture of the masculine and feminine, which had pleased her very much. “You have changed things here.”

  “Do you like it?” she asked. She’d been a little nervous about that too. She’d redecorated without any real knowledge of how to proceed. Mr. Howard at the store in the village had gone through pattern books with her and ordered what she needed, but his was the only advice she had sought. The house was very much hers now, her stamp on every room. There was still some work to be done, but she was pleased with the outcome so far. She hoped it wasn’t too ordinary or plebeian for Gideon’s friends’ tastes.

  Mr. Haversham smiled warmly. “I like the room very much. But that wasn’t what I was referring to.”

  He set his glass of wine down on the table beside him and turned a gimlet-eyed gaze on her. They stood in the corner of the room, set apart from the others who sat in the center of the room conversing. Sarah had deliberately led Mr. Haversham over here. She did not want anyone else to hear them. She blushed now at his scrutiny.

  “I am assuming you did not separate me from the crowd to discover my opinion of your decorating,” he said. “So I am going to take a stab in the dark and suggest that you wish to talk about North.”

  “No.” She could see her answer surprised him. “I wish to talk about Mr. Borden.”

  Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Ah, I see.”

  Now that the moment was at hand, Sarah found words escaped her. She licked her dry lips. “Actually, I would like to talk about you. If that is all right?” She glanced nervously at him from the corner of her eye and then turned her attention to the hunting print on the wall as if they were discussing it.

  “By all means,” Mr. Haversham said with extreme politeness. “I am always happy to have the conversation revolve around me.”

  Sarah couldn’t stop her burst of quiet laughter. “I believe that sounds like something the duke would say, sir, rather than you.”

  “We spend a great deal of time together. Perhaps he has undue influence over me.”

  Sarah blushed as the thought of how much time the two men did spend together, and what they did with that time, lent a new meaning to his offhand remark.

  Mr. Haversham chuckled quietly beside her. “Ah, I see you are aware of our relationship.”

  Sarah bit her lip and nodded, looking at the floor.

  “Is that what you wish to talk about? My relationship with the duke and duchess?” His voice was quiet, the question spoken gently. She nodded again. “What would you like to know? I’m afraid I can’t discuss too much about it. We like to maintain our privacy as much as possible, you understand. But living in such close proximity, and Anne being Anne, we will see a great deal of one another. It was inevitable that you should learn of our…situation. But why me? Wouldn’t it be easier to speak to Anne?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No. I need your unique perspective.” She forced herself to turn and face him. “Are you happy?”

  He looked puzzled. “Yes. I am content, if that is what you mean.”

  Sarah looked away. She was frustrated. She needed to know how Mr. Haversham felt about his role in the duke and duchess’ lives. He was the third, the outsider. She feared Charles was not content in that role. Was it possible for any man to be? “Mr. Borden is…” She paused, not sure how much to reveal to this virtual stranger. “I cannot show affection for him. I believe he is hurt by it. I know I am. But what are we to do?” She sighed tremulously and turned back to see him watching her with sympathy. “Are you happy?” she asked again.

  “Yes.” This time his answer was firm and unequivocal. “I could not be happier. That is what you really want to know, isn’t it? If I would be happier in a more traditional relationship? If I wish I was married with a house and family of my own?” Sarah nodded. “The answer is no.” He shook his head. “No, the answer is I have a house and family of my own. I am married. I am married to Freddy and to Anne, and Ashton Park is my home. They are my family. This child is mine. I am far happier in this life than I could ever be with someone else, someone I did not love as I love Anne and Freddy. Perhaps my life might be easier, but no, Mrs. North, it would not be better.”

  Sarah blinked rapidly, her eyes filling with tears. Mr. Haversham gallantly handed over his handkerchief and she wiped at her cheeks. “I needed to hear that,” she whispered.

  “Then you need to ask Charles, because he is the one you should hear it from.” Mr. Haversham spoke kindly but firmly. “We have all known for quite a long time that he and North were entangled. Anne worried endlessly about this marriage. She shall be extremely relieved to hear she can stop worrying.” Sarah gave a watery chuckle as she sniffed. “I know that Borden feels as I do, Mrs. North. He made his choices long ago. That his choices have led to a happiness few men find in their lifetime is a joy to him, I am sure, as it is to me.”

  “But…are there not times when you long for more?” she asked quietly, twisting the handkerchief she held. “I see Charles’ face when Gideon and I are affectionate in public. I know he feels hurt, left out.”

  “When you are with us, Mrs. North, you may show affection to whomever you wish.” Mr. Haversham smiled and his good humor was irresistible. “And you may trust that we shall do the same.” He sobered slightly. “Yes, there are times when the constraints of society are onerous for us. When I want to proclaim that they are mine and I am theirs. But as I said, we all made a choice and we live with the consequences. We understand that. It does not make me feel as if I mean less to them. Rather, my silence and my discretion are just one more way I show my devotion to them and I take care of them.”

  “Sarah?” Charles’ voice coming directly over her shoulder startled her and she jumped guiltily. “Are you all right?”

  Sarah realized the rest of the room had gone quiet and she turned to see Gideon standing with his crutches watching them, the duke and duchess turned on the settee and giving Mr. Haversham identical inquiring looks.

  “I’m fine,” she rushed to assure them. “Mr. Haversham simply said something that made me very happy. I’m afraid I’m being overly emotional. I was quite nervous, you know, about this evening.” She forced herself to stop babbling. Then she did something that took every ounce of courage she possessed. She leaned forward and kissed Charles lightly on the lips, in front of everyone. “Thank you, Charles, for coming to my rescue. But I am only being a ninny.”

  Charles was too shocked to respond. His eyes were wide as saucers and he looked around as he took a step back. Sarah followed him and slid her hand around his arm.

  “What did you say to my wife, Haversham?” Gideon drawled. “That you have to leave early?”

  Anne’s trill of laughter broke the tension. “Oh, Gideon, you are endlessly amusing. Really, you are. You have missed us, admit it.” She stepped over next to Gideon and reached back for the duke’s arm. They turned toward the door to head into the dining room. “If we did not come to visit, who would you
sharpen your tongue on if not my poor men?”

  “Poor indeed,” Gideon murmured loud enough for all to hear. “When you and the duke are visiting I shall curb my considerable wit.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Haversham can hold the horses on the ducal carriage while we make our bows in order to protect his delicate sensibilities.”

  “You try to wound me, North,” Mr. Haversham said with a wink at Sarah. He offered her his arm so that she walked with a very quiet Charles on one side and Mr. Haversham on the other, mimicking Gideon, Anne and the duke ahead of them. “If I were not so secure in my place, I would tremble at your censure.” He peeked around Sarah to look at Charles. “But the stones you throw no longer crush me, since you have proven to be more man and less paragon of suffering virtue.”

  “More man than you?” Gideon rejoined as he let Anne and the duke precede him into the dining room. “That hardly requires a Herculean effort.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” the duke drawled as he passed Gideon. “You haven’t slept in his sheets.”

  “Frederick Thorne,” Anne chided in a shocked voice. “You shall upset Mrs. North.”

  “What about the vicar?” Mr. Matthews said with a grin. “Isn’t anyone worried about upsetting the vicar?” He looked at the two groups of three. “I feel like the proverbial leper.”

  Mr. Haversham stuck out his other elbow and Mr. Matthews locked arms with him as he laughed.

  “Don’t read anything into it,” Mr. Haversham told him with a disdainful look.

  “In this company?” Mr. Matthews replied. “I fear for my virtue.”

  Anne’s laughter drifted out the dining room door as Sarah blushed and laughed at the same time.

  The clink of silverware against china was subdued, the candles burning in the candelabrum in the middle of the table casting artful shadows around the room. The conversation had been light throughout dinner, for which Gideon was grateful. He had not liked seeing Sarah upset earlier. He’d wanted to hit Haversham, but he knew it was irrational. He knew Sarah had initiated the conversation, and he had some idea of what it had been about. But all parties seemed to be over the tension that had momentarily gripped them and even Charles had smiled and laughed a time or two.

  Like Sarah, Gideon was worried about Charles. He’d thought that once they became lovers Charles would be happy. He wasn’t. Why? He claimed he was worried about Sarah. Gideon believed that was part of the reason for his discontent. He wondered if he was the other part. He had clearly failed to live up to Charles’ expectations, as usual. He sighed inwardly. He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t think Charles’ feelings for him or Sarah had changed. Charles was the very soul of loyalty and fidelity. But Gideon’s affections had not been enough to make up for the daily evidence of the sacrifices Charles had made for him. Every time Charles looked at him he must be thrown back into the war and that horrific night at Badajoz.

  “I met a man in London recently, Mrs. North, who might interest you,” Mr. Matthews said. “A doctor. He claims to be able to remove marks such as yours through a revolutionary new treatment.”

  Charles slammed his fork down on his plate. “What?” Anger made the word more bark than anything else.

  Mr. Matthews was taken aback by Charles’ anger. “I meant nothing by it, Borden. I mentioned it simply because I thought it was interesting and believed Mrs. North might as well. I meant no disrespect.” He bowed in Sarah’s direction.

  Gideon could feel his scowl tightening the skin on his cheeks and nose and forehead. “My wife is not in need of such a doctor,” he said coldly.

  “Gideon, Charles,” Sarah said mildly. She smiled at Mr. Matthews. “No offense taken, sir. There have been charlatans making such claims for as long as I can remember. It is impossible, I assure you.”

  Gideon couldn’t believe how calm she was. She was so aware of her mark, so afraid of what everyone thought. How could Matthews bring it up like that at dinner?

  Sarah took a sip of her wine and then set the glass down. She motioned for everyone to continue eating. “I wonder, Mr. Matthews, how did this doctor claim to perform such a miracle?”

  She was blushing. Her calm demeanor was a mask. Gideon almost cursed out loud. He looked at Charles and he seemed as angry as Gideon.

  “It doesn’t matter how,” Charles ground out. “It is foolishness. Sarah does not need to remove the mark. She is beautiful as she is.”

  “Of course she is,” Anne replied, as calm as Sarah. “But what if it’s true? Would you do it?”

  All eyes turned to Sarah. She was painfully red and Gideon could see her clutching her napkin in a white-knuckled fist.

  “I would forbid it,” Gideon declared. “I’ll not have her risking her health for such a stupid thing. Her birthmark? It is hardly noticeable! How dare you even bring it up.”

  “Gideon, please, you insult the duchess with your tone,” Sarah said quietly. “She is your friend, as are all our guests. They meant no harm.”

  Anne looked on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry, Sarah! I assumed that you would be used to people asking about it. I did not mean to ruin your evening. Truly. I agree with North and Borden. You are beautiful. You have no need of such treatment. Forgive me.”

  There were murmurs of assent around the table, but they did not soothe Gideon’s anger.

  Sarah smiled kindly at Anne and her color faded. “I know, Your Grace. I am not offended. And yes, many people ask about the mark. But it does not make me immune to self-consciousness.”

  “Then let us not speak of it again,” Ashland said graciously. “We would not make our hostess uncomfortable. It is not well done of a guest.”

  Mr. Matthews was now blushing a crimson red. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I should take my leave.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes in exasperation and Gideon relaxed. “Nonsense, Mr. Matthews. It is of interest to me, you were right. As I said, I have had many people ask, and several doctors have claimed to be able to cure me of it. A curious choice of words, I always thought. It is not a disease that weakens me. It is as much a part of me as my arm or my leg, and I certainly do not wish to be cured of those. Do I, Gideon?”

  He smiled proudly at her. She was turning the tables to put her guests at ease again. “No, my dear. I do not recommend the cure for leg.”

  Haversham laughed. “No, I must agree with you there, North, as much as it pains me. The cure for leg is definitely worse than what may ail you.”

  Charles did not laugh. His face was grim. “I am thankful, Sarah, that your father did not give any credence to these doctors.”

  Sarah looked surprised. “Oh, but he did. When I was very young one of them tried to cure me with a noxious draught that made me violently ill. They feared I would not survive the cure. They dared not risk such treatment again. Though when I was younger I begged them to.”

  “Why?” Ashland asked. He truly seemed puzzled. But he wouldn’t have any idea, would he? He was gorgeous, even Gideon could see that. His life was a charmed one. He’d never had people turn away at the sight of him—spurn him because of a disfigurement. Yes, Haversham had been injured in the war, but he’d kept his leg. He had nothing more than a limp. And whatever scars he bore were out of sight. Gideon felt a surge of irrational anger at Ashland’s perfection and his intrusive question.

  Sarah just laughed. “I was a young girl with no suitors. Perhaps present company does not see my mark as a disfigurement,” at her statement she smiled and nodded in appreciation to those around the table and they nodded back congenially, “but offers were not forthcoming prior to Gideon.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. North.” Ashland’s contrition was genuine. “I didn’t realize. I must say that the gentlemen of your previous acquaintance must be extraordinarily stupid.” He paused a moment before asking a hesitant question. “So you would change it, then, if you could?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, not now. What difference could it possibly make now?” She gestured around them. “I have
a husband, a home, I am quite content. None of these things would change were I to suddenly, magically be relieved of my birthmark.” She looked between Charles and Gideon as she spoke and he felt the sincerity in her words. “The mark is a part of me, it made me who I am. It brought me here, in a roundabout way. I have no memories without it. It is all I know.” She shook her head again. “No, I would not change it. And that surprises me too.” She laughed wryly. “There are many times I despair of going out among strangers because the mark is the first thing they see.” She tipped her head thoughtfully. “But here at the farm, and in the village, what they see first is that I am Mrs. Gideon North of Blakely Farm. What I look like matters not compared to who I am. This is a relatively new lesson, of course.” She laughed again. “I seem to be the last person to grow accustomed to my birthmark.”

  Sarah’s comments cut Gideon to the quick. That he had done this for her, made her accept herself in such a way, made her life easier on such a fundamental level, meant the world to him. He glanced at Charles. But he did have memories of his life before his own disfigurement. And so did Charles. And that was what Charles couldn’t forget. Gideon was fighting a losing battle for Charles with a ghost of himself.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I contacted that London doctor, Dr. Phinneas Jones. He will be arriving here at the end of this week,” Gideon announced at breakfast.

  “Who?” Sarah asked, clearly confused.

  Charles put down his tea as he stared at Gideon. It had been almost three weeks since the dinner party where Stephen Matthews had mentioned the doctor, but Charles remembered the conversation clearly. He knew instantly whom Gideon referred to. “Why?” He tried to keep the anger out of his tone. He had to believe that Gideon had done it for the right reasons. But dammit, Sarah didn’t need the doctor. She was fine. No, better than fine—beautiful. Gideon had said so himself at dinner. And nothing since. Nothing about contacting this doctor.