earlier than usual. He’d tried to kiss her and he’d fumbled at her breasts. She’d had to fight him off and had scratched his cheek in her efforts.
‘You little hellcat.’ He’d put a hand to his cheek in shock. ‘You will be sorry for that, Sarah. I’ll teach you to respect your betters.’
‘I do not consider you my superior, sir,’ she’d retorted. ‘I have no intention of being seduced. If you thought to compromise me and force me into marriage, you are far off the mark. I would rather have fingers pointed at me in the street than marry you.’
That was perfectly true, for she would rather die than marry a man like him, but it was also true that she didn’t wish to lose her good name. Nor would she care to be whispered about or pointed out as an object of shame.
‘If you would marry Sam Goodjohn, or Harry Barton, you’d be safe from rogues like that,’ her uncle had told her when she’d told him what had happened. ‘They’re good men and run mills of their own so you could stay home and be a wife and mother as you ought. It’s time you married and thought about a family, Sarah—unless you want to die an old maid.’
‘I know you want to protect me, Uncle William,’ Sarah replied. ‘But I should hate to be married simply for the sake of my fortune. When I find a man I love who loves me, I’ll get married.’
‘Love,’ her uncle scoffed at the idea. ‘When did love ever get you anywhere? You need a man to protect you and look after your business, young woman. Don’t leave it too late or you may find that even money won’t get you the kind of man you need.’
Her uncle’s scolding had jerked her from her complacency. It was true that time was slipping by and she was no longer a young girl. If she wanted a family she must marry—and Sarah had begun to realise what
she might miss if she did not.
Was she so ill-favoured that she needed money to buy her a husband? Sarah knew she wasn’t beautiful by any means. Her hair was dark brown, and her nose was straight. Her mouth was bigger than she liked and she wished she had thin lips like Hester. Miss Goodrum was prettier than she was, but Sarah didn’t feel ugly. When she dressed in her best she was attractive enough and people said she had a nice smile.
Was it impossible that she would find love?
She felt she might have more chance of it if she were not her father’s heir. When men looked at her they saw the rich Miss Hardcastle and they wanted what she could give them. The hard-headed ones wanted to build up her business and get richer; the spendthrifts wanted a ticket to the easy life.
Sarah wanted... A little sigh escaped her. She wanted a man who would make her laugh. A man who appreciated music, poetry and beautiful gardens...someone who would love her for who she was, not for her money.
Was she asking too much? Perhaps her uncle was right. It might be sensible to accept one of her suitors and have the lawyers draw up a contract that gave her the right to retain control of her business and protect her fortune.
It was the simple way out of her predicament. A business arrangement that would protect her from fortune hunters and unscrupulous businessmen who wanted the vast wealth her father had bequeathed her. Until recently, Sarah would have thought it a perfectly sensible idea, but for some reason she had begun to feel a slight dissatisfaction with her life as it presently was. She had not thought of marriage whilst her father lived and in the first years after his death she’d been too wrapped up in her work to consider it. Of late she’d begun to notice children playing in the parks and sweethearts walking together in the sunshine. If she did not marry, she would miss so much.
Was she lonely? Certainly not! She had friends and loyal employees and was too busy to be lonely.
Yet surely there was another way to live? She must have time to consider, to decide what she wanted of life. What Sarah needed was a place to escape, to hide and to be someone else for a while....
‘Yes, I’ll do it, miss. Like you said, it can’t hurt anyone—and Jim will be so happy to have me home....’
Sarah blinked, dragging her thoughts back to the present. For a moment she couldn’t believe that Hester had agreed, then, as she saw the other woman was in earnest, she smiled.
‘Thank you so much, Hester,’ she said and leaned forwards to touch her hand. ‘You won’t regret it. I shan’t do anything that could harm your good name, I promise you.’
‘Lord, miss, as if you would.’ Hester laughed, looking younger as her eyes lit with excitement. ‘I can’t thank you enough for giving me this chance—and I hope you’ll get on with your charges. Lady Mary arranged it for me. She said they’re a little bit difficult, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.’
‘Yes, I’m certain I shall,’ Sarah agreed and laughed. ‘How hard can it be to look after a young lady and a boy of thirteen?’
‘Why do we have to have a mentor as well as a governess? I thought you said it would be all right when we got rid of the last two? You said Grandfather would give up sending us tutors and take us to live with him in London.’
‘I said he would take me. It’s time I had my come out,’ Francesca Scunthorpe said and made a face at her brother. She was a pretty girl with soft hair and bright eyes, and a mouth that was wide and sensuous. Her yellow-silk gown was attractive, but not as fashionable as she would like, and made for her by a local seamstress. ‘You will be going to Cambridge after Christmas. It looks as if I’ll be stuck here on my own with some stupid governess.’
‘I don’t mind going to college,’ John said and threw a paper dart at her across the schoolroom. He was a sturdy boy, attractive with dark hair and eyes and a stubborn chin. His tutor had given him a list of Latin verbs to learn to keep him busy until the new mentor arrived, but John was bored with lists. His tutor had given him new lists every day for the past eighteen months, but he hadn’t explained anything. His lessons consisted of setting a new exercise and then tests to see what he’d learned. ‘It would be better than staying here on our own.’
‘It was all right at first,’ Francesca said. ‘When we were younger we had Miss Graham and Mr Browne. I liked her and she taught me lots of interesting things, but she left and the last governess was useless. She couldn’t play the pianoforte or the harp and she chose all the wrong books.’
‘And she didn’t like frogs in her bed,’ John said, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. ‘I’ve never heard anyone scream as much as she did when she saw that grass snake.’
‘She thought it was poisonous.’ Francesca looked scornful. ‘She didn’t know it was a grass snake and harmless.’
‘Anyone knows the difference between a viper and a grass snake,’ John said and looked up at his sister. ‘What are we going to do, Fran? I’m so bored—aren’t you?’
‘Yes, some of the time,’ Fran agreed. ‘I like to read poetry, but I know you’d rather play games or go fishing.’
‘Can we go fishing today? He will probably stop us having fun when he gets here—and your governess will say it isn’t a fit occupation for a lady.’
‘We’ll outwit them somehow,’ Fran promised. She picked up
