Page 27 of A Meddlesome Match (The Vaughns #3)

The clouds hung low and heavy, a dull expanse of gray that suited Sadie’s mood perfectly. It was the sort of day that urged one indoors and whispered of warm parlors and quiet comforts, yet fool that she was, she had abandoned the blankets, pillows, and tea things in favor of the unknown. The Queensburys’ home promised warmth and welcome, yet unease coiled in her chest as she stared at the stately brick fa?ade.

It was only tea. A friendly visit. But after everything that had passed, how could she pretend she didn’t feel the weight of the name attached to this house?

Mrs. Sylvia Queensbury was never anything but kind and welcoming. Though not Sadie’s particular friend, the lady was close with Joanna, leaving them in the friendship equivalent of cousins. Still, the obvious connection to the Gibsons had not recommended Mrs. Queensbury of late, and Sadie ought to cut ties with the lot of them before she was dragged any further into Mrs. Gibson’s machinations.

A cool gust of wind stirred her skirts, carrying with it the damp scent of coming rain. Fitting. If she had any sense, she would make for home before the heavens opened and turned the journey into a miserable slog through the mud.

However, though Hawthorne House was usually a bastion of joy and peace, such sentiments were sadly lacking at present. Neither Mama nor Papa spoke of their travails in London or their future plans, yet a pall hung over the household, sapping the very brick and mortar of everything good Sadie associated with being home.

And she had no other pressing engagements to distract her. Nothing but this invitation. A house filled to bursting with chattering ladies was not normally a refuge, but it was precisely what she needed at present.

Sadie alighted from the gig, her hands holding fast to the reins as she considered the conundrum before her. Why was she so afraid? It was only afternoon tea. And yet she could not shake the nagging feeling that stepping inside would prove a serious mistake.

“Miss Vaughn!”

cried another voice, drawing Sadie’s attention to the house next door, where the window was pulled open to reveal Mrs. Reed waving. “How good to see you.”

They were neighbors to the Queensburys? Despite Danthorpe’s small size, Sadie hadn’t considered the possibility that the Reeds and Gibsons were connected in any form, yet the proof was now hanging out the window, beckoning her to come closer.

“It is good to see you, too,”

said Sadie with a wave in return. Then, motioning toward her destination, she added, “I have been invited to Mrs. Queensbury’s for afternoon tea.”

“Oh, and here I had hoped you were paying a call on me,”

replied the lady. “It is a shame Walter is not at home, as I know he would greatly appreciate visiting with you. He has spoken at great lengths about how much he enjoyed your picnic together. It made quite the impression.”

Sadie’s brows furrowed as Mrs. Reed babbled on and on about the veritable ecstasy Mr. Reed was feeling after their time together.

“I enjoyed it as well,”

she said when Mrs. Reed finally stopped speaking.

“May I tell him?”

Pausing just a moment, Sadie finally said, “If you wish to.”

And with that, Mrs. Reed descended into veritable raptures, acting as though those four words were her son’s salvation, snatching him from the very jaws of death.

“I am expected,”

said Sadie, nodding towards the Queensburys’, “so I ought to go, but it was lovely to see you.”

“Yes, of course, Miss Vaughn,”

replied Mrs. Reed with more waves. “I do hope you will come for a visit soon.”

Yet the lady didn’t close the window. She continued to hang there, watching as Sadie tied off the horse.

Glancing at the sodden sky, the Reeds’ home, and the door before her, Sadie couldn’t shake the sense of impending doom, but she had reached that definitive time in which one must make a choice. And returning home remained the least appealing option.

Striding to the front door, she pulled the bell and presented her card when the maid answered it.

“Mrs. Queensbury is expecting me for tea,” she said.

“Yes, of course,”

said the young woman with a bob. “Right this way, miss.”

Relieved of her things, Sadie glanced down the corridor that led to the parlor, both of which were conspicuously quiet.

“Am I the first to arrive?”

asked Sadie with a frown. She didn’t have a pocket watch on hand, though she was certain the event must have already begun. Tardiness was usually abhorrent, but she had set her horse’s pace to guarantee that very thing, as it was best not to be caught alone with any of the Gibson clan. Almost friend or not.

“I…”

The maid dragged out that single word until it drifted into nothing, and when she showed Sadie into the empty entertaining room, she gave another bob. “I will tell my mistress you are here.”

And before Sadie could mount any protest, the girl fled, leaving Sadie wondering if she ought to do the same. But the maid appeared a moment later with flushed cheeks and another bob.

“Excuse me, miss, but I was supposed to show you to the courtyard,”

she said, motioning toward the side doors that opened up into that green space.

“I am here for an afternoon tea,”

said Sadie, but the girl didn’t comment further, simply motioning for her to step into the cultivated gardens that abutted the house—and snapping the doors closed behind Sadie.

Without her shawl, she fought back a shiver; thankfully, the building offered some shelter from the breeze, granting her a slight reprieve from the nip in the air. Stone pavers ran the length of the space, providing an ideal setting for tables and chairs or for promenading when wearing shoes unsuitable for the grass.

Stretching out from the building was a profusion of cultivated trees and shrubs, with great bushy flowers and brightly colored blossoms scattered between. Sadie wandered deeper into the greenery, taking pleasure in the chance to admire another gardener’s handiwork. The Queensburys of the past had favored a more formal arrangement, evident in the selection of box shrubs, though the current mistress had let them grow a touch unruly to create a homier aesthetic.

A pointed cough drew her attention, and Sadie peered around a hedge to find Howard Gibson standing in the center of the garden, a bouquet in hand. Stepping into the clearing, she considered ignoring the obvious issue staring her in the face, but after so many years of obsequious silence, Sadie was far too irritated to keep hold of her tongue.

Pretense was exhausting.

“I do not care for cut flowers,”

she said, glancing at the bouquet and then meeting his gaze. “As you should know, friend.”

“But they are so lovely,”

he said, glancing at them. “And cutting the blossoms encourages more growth—something you taught me.”

Sadie cast an appraising eye over them. “Yes, but not until the blooms begin to turn—not while they’re still budding, as they do for bouquets. Why do people claim to adore flowers, only to pluck them too early and watch them wither in a vase when they could leave them in a pot to bloom again and again?”

Howard’s brows drew close together as he studied the bouquet, but his bright smile returned as he extended them once more. “Yes, but a courting swain ought to bring—”

“I am here for an afternoon tea with your sister, not this nonsense,”

interrupted Sadie, turning back to the house.

Hurrying around to stand before her, Howard winced. “That was a little ruse my mother suggested. I apologize. I doubted you would willingly come to my home, and I wasn’t certain your mother would allow me in yours, as she seems set against me of late.”

He spoke with such utter bafflement, as though the very thought of having lost Mrs. Violet Vaughn’s good opinion was ludicrous, and Sadie stared at the fellow with the same bewilderment. There were so many marks against him “of late”

that it was a miracle Mama hadn’t run him through.

But before Sadie enumerated that lengthy list, the fellow shoved the bouquet into her hands and manhandled her onto one of the benches that lined the circle clearing.

Crouching down before her, Howard took her hand in his. “I have given this a great deal of thought, and I realize now that I have been utterly blind. My whole life, I have been ensnared by pretty faces and beguiled by charm, but time and again, I have been disappointed. You, however—”

He gestured toward her as though marveling at some grand mystery. “You have never disappointed me.”

Sadie stiffened. There was a compliment somewhere in that, but it was buried beneath something so unpalatable that it soured the whole of it. Howard pressed on, clearly pleased with the direction of his speech, though she couldn’t fight the sneer taking hold of her expression.

“I see now that true worth is not found in a fine figure or dazzling eyes but in reliability. In intelligence. And in friendship. You have always been there, steadfast and wise, never engaging in coquettish games or making unreasonable demands. I was a fool not to see it before.”

A slow burn of irritation crept through her, sending out sparks of anger. Each time she had bitten her tongue, ignored a slight, or twisted herself into something agreeable were bits of kindling, gathered throughout the years. And now, they were quickly catching fire.

Yet Howard was oblivious, speaking not as a man desperate to secure her good opinion but as an arrogant fool offering her a grand prize. Thank the heavens that the impressive Howard Gibson had finally lowered his standards enough to see the value in his cowering friend, whose greatest asset (apparently) was her ability to be indulgent and permissive.

Sadie opened her mouth to put an end to this nonsense when a flicker of movement caught her eye. Though Mrs. Gibson attempted to hide behind a curtain, Sadie spied the lady peering through the window at them, looking ready to faint from delight.

Clenching her fists at her side, Sadie’s anger blossomed into proper flames, crackling beneath her skin and ready to burn. She inhaled sharply. She wasn’t going to give them a scene. There was nothing to be had from that, so she held fast to her dignity.

Howard continued, oblivious to the rising firestorm before him. “It would make my mother happy, you know. And my sisters. You’re practically part of the family already, so it is only sensible to make it official.”

Rising to her feet, she left the bouquet on the bench beside her. “I must decline.”

And then Howard laughed—not the cheery chuckle usually associated with that word, but a slight scoff of disbelief. Small though it may be, that sound acted like a bellows inside her, causing the flames to burst into a proper bonfire. Sadie Vaughn had never thought she possessed a temper, but apparently, it had simply been awaiting a proper spark.

Standing, he seized her hand once more. “Do not play the coquette now, Sadie. You’ve caught me, so there is no need to set the hook.”

“There is no hook, sir. Whatever I may have felt once upon a time, everything I’ve seen of late proves we were never true friends, and I have no wish to alter that.”

Yanking free, Sadie stepped around him, but he caught her by the hand and spun her toward him, his arms encircling her before she knew what he was about.

“Howard Gibson,”

she said, her voice like cut glass. “Release me!”

“We both know this is precisely where you wish to be,”

he said in a low voice that he likely thought was sultry and inviting but felt like tar running down her spine.

Then Howard lunged forward, his lips seeking hers.