Page 4 of A Meddlesome Match (The Vaughns #3)

One ought not to underestimate the power of delusion and the ability to lie to oneself. Granted, when one was prone to such things, one was unlikely to recognize the issue, yet Sadie had thought herself aware enough to avoid such troubles.

The world had changed two years ago. Perhaps not the entire world, but Edward’s marriage had ushered in a new era for his sister. Mrs. Joanna Vaughn possessed no more talent for socializing than Sadie, but like the strands of a rope, they were stronger together, and with her sister-in-law at her side, Sadie had discovered a new strength within herself.

With Joanna feeling poorly, Howard licking his wounds, and Mama in London with Papa, Sadie had been forced to choose between forgoing the event and attending on her own. She might’ve enticed Edward to join her, but with their father’s practice keeping him occupied, her brother no longer had the time to save his sister from her own nerves. And asking Gregory to attend was a fool’s errand.

Two years ago, the thought of venturing into society without a companion on hand would’ve set Sadie in a dither. To risk being shunted to the side? Abandoned in a quiet corner, alone? The horror! The Sadie of now (poor, deluded woman that she was) ignored good sense and the disastrous event just three days past and welcomed the opportunity to attend an afternoon tea on her own.

Perhaps Sadie wasn’t delusional as much as hopelessly optimistic, forever thinking this time she would easily slide into conversation with someone.

Clutching the teacup and saucer in her hand, Sadie feigned interest in the Sempers’ artwork and wished she were in Thornsby. Having spent so much of the past two years socializing amongst Danthorpe with Howard at her side, she hadn’t given the invitation a second thought when it arrived last week—despite knowing he wouldn’t attend as he ought to be on his wedding trip.

Yet another fit of optimism.

Why did she believe she still had a place amongst this set when her sole connection was gone? Despite the village being near enough to Thornsby for social circles to overlap, Sadie had done little flitting between them before her friendship with Howard, and she’d been a fool to think it would continue without him.

Conversations filled the air, and though Sadie didn’t turn her attention from the painting, she felt the ladies shifting between groups and milling about, though that awareness faded as her eyes truly focused on the image before her. The artist had masterfully captured the field of heather; the ofttimes bleak moors were alight with streaks of purple, and the sunlight filtering through the patchwork of clouds lent the world a golden glow.

Leaning closer, Sadie looked for the signature in the corner—

“Miss Vaughn, why are you standing here, all alone?”

asked Mrs. Stapleton as she drew up beside her. With a teasing smile, she added, “I promise we do not bite.”

The warmth in her tone helped to ease some of the strain in Sadie’s muscles, and drawing in a deep breath, she decided a bit of self-deprecation might just be the thing.

“I fear that without my friends or family at my side, I am a coward of the highest order. I am forever afraid of intruding,”

she replied with a faint wince.

Mrs. Yates drew up beside her friend, taking Mrs. Stapleton by the arm. “I know precisely what you mean. It is so much easier when one isn’t expected to venture out alone.”

“And how are your parents? They have been absent for so long. Should we be afraid of losing them to London?”

Mrs. Stapleton gave a light laugh before hurrying to add, “Not that we aren’t pleased to have your brother seeing to our needs. He is a delight.”

Mrs. Yates nodded. “Such a good sort.”

Sadie echoed the movement as she dusted off the usual excuses for her parents’ absence. Despite it feeling a tad dishonest, they had family aplenty in London to give the ruse veracity. As did the fact that her father’s medical needs were his private business and needn’t be spread about—just as these ladies wouldn’t care for their physicians to gossip about their illnesses.

A flutter in her stomach had Sadie fighting back a frown. No doubt everything was fine, and there was no need for concern. Even if Mama’s last letter hadn’t been very comforting. And had arrived over a sennight ago. Would the doctors heal his eyesight?

“And how are you faring?”

Mrs. Yates leaned closer, her brow twisting together as she lowered her voice as though the others weren’t keenly aware of what she was asking.

Sadie’s muscles tensed, and she drew in a sharp breath as her thoughts whirled. If the young lady’s intentions had been of the poisonous variety, Sadie’s comprehensive education in managing shrewish companions would’ve made it easy to fabricate some meaningless response and brush aside further prodding.

But kindness? Well-meaning intrusions were so much more difficult to navigate. Mrs. Yates meant to support and uplift, yet Sadie didn’t know her well enough to answer truthfully. To say nothing of the fact that this was neither the time nor place for such weighty discussions.

“Oh, yes,”

said Mrs. Stapleton, her curls bobbing as she nodded. With a wince, she turned concerned eyes to Sadie. “I heard about that dreadful scene. My heart aches for you, Miss Vaughn, and I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been to be so…”

The lady didn’t seem to know how to end the sentence, but she was saved from having to do so as Mrs. Yates hurried to add, “I know Mrs. Gibson is the sort to speak her mind, but that was shocking. Uncalled for.”

With a slight wince, Mrs. Stapleton added, “Though I suppose it is a comfort to know she thinks so highly of you.”

The ladies meant well, but this was just the sort of situation in which there was no good route ahead. If everyone ignored the situation, it felt as though people either didn’t care or were laughing behind her back. Yet to broach the subject only dredged up feelings and discomforts that she did not wish to explore at present. Or in mixed company. How was one to provide solace for another when any action was bound to cause heartache?

Thankfully, that was not Sadie’s conundrum to solve. Instead, she had to sort out how to avoid the kindly meant prodding of her wound, and thankfully (yet again), she had experience in such matters.

“Please excuse me, ladies,”

said Sadie, adopting her warmest of smiles. “I just recalled something that I must attend to.”

“Yes, of course,”

said Mrs. Yates with a nod.

But Mrs. Stapleton stopped her short, taking her by the hand with a sorrowful smile. “I am sorry for what happened. It was mightily unfair. You are a dear and did not deserve that.”

“My thanks,”

said Sadie with all earnestness—even as she wished to scurry away and hide in a hole.

Doubly so when she realized her hypocrisy in having wished for companionship, only to toss it away. Sadie didn’t want to return home to sit alone and stew over all that had happened; she craved distraction and connection, yet the usual avenues were closed to her, and those that remained held no appeal.

Just a moment to gather herself, and she could try once more to find a conversation that didn’t involve discussing any recent gossip surrounding herself and a certain gentleman. Setting her teacup on a side table, Sadie strode away, moving with enough purpose to make it clear she was heading to a specific destination, even if she didn’t know what it was.

The Sempers’ parlor was a long room formed from three smaller ones sandwiched together, though the division between each was hardly noticeable when the doorways were nearly as wide as the room itself; with the partitions open, it felt like one distended room, stretching like a gallery. Ladies filled the space, traveling from one group to another as they availed themselves of the tea and cake, and Sadie couldn’t help wondering if Joanna had anticipated that this quiet corner of Yorkshire would adopt the new fashion of afternoon tea so quickly after she introduced it to Thornsby just two years prior.

Following the length of the room, she tried not to look behind her to see if Mrs. Yates and Mrs. Stapleton were watching and veered toward the last door. Pretending to study the painting beside it, she found yet another magnificent piece, and Sadie was distracted again; Mrs. Semper possessed such an eye for art, and she had long wished to study their masterpieces.

This landscape boasted great mountains that dwarfed anything England had to offer and forests so thick that one could walk for days without seeing another living creature. And the artist had captured the sunlight along the leaves, making them glow as though fashioned from gold. When Sadie looked closer, she found there was more orange than yellow, but the artist had laden the shadows with a hint of purple that contrasted beautifully—

“Miss Vaughn,”

called a voice from behind, and Sadie glanced over her shoulder to see Mrs. Houghton motion her over.

“One moment,”

she said, raising a hand in greeting before slipping into the empty corridor, which parallelled the parlor. Doorways lined the walls, with one side leading into the gathering and those opposite being shut to the visitors, but Sadie lunged for one, desperate to flee more attempts to broach “the Gibson incident.”

Glancing over her shoulder to make certain no one witnessed her escape, she stepped through the doorway—and collided with a stone wall. Jerking back, Sadie stared at the doorway, which opened into nothing, and though she knew it would do no good, she brushed a hand against the impediment as though that might erase it.

A throat cleared behind her, and heat swept through Sadie as she spun around. But no one was there.

Through the parlor doorways, she spied the gathering, but another polite noise drew her eyes to the far end of the corridor, which boasted yet another door. And inside the opening stood Mr. Reed. Hands tucked behind him, the gentleman stared at her, and she stared right back—whilst standing before a false doorway.

Sadie held back a groan. Once more she was making a fool of herself in front of the gentleman. They say one ought not to cry over spilt milk, and while that adage was true, she had never honed the ability to dismiss such failures, and she knew this moment would haunt her for some days to come. Especially in the dead of night when one was abed and had naught to occupy one’s thoughts other than reliving all the mortifying moments of the previous days.

Creaking floorboards pulled Sadie’s gaze toward the doors leading to the gathering, and she hurried to shut the false door and hide the evidence of her escape. Then, bracing herself, she turned to reenter the fray—

Another pointed clearing of the throat drew her attention back to Mr. Reed, who gave a small nod toward the library where he had been sitting. Sadie had only a moment to weigh her options—neither of them inviting—before the rising chatter of approaching ladies quickened her pulse. Evidently, some part of her had decided Mr. Reed was the lesser inconvenience, for she moved swiftly in his direction without another word.

Sadie swept into the library as Mr. Reed followed. A tea tray sat beside one of the excessively comfortable seats that littered the room, an open book lying face down on the arm. As being shut away with a gentleman was imprudent at the best of times, the door remained open, but Sadie stepped out of sight of the corridor, her ears tuned to the footsteps and chatter that followed the ladies as they walked toward the entryway.

Once they were gone, her spine slackened, her muscles relaxing as she let out the breath that she’d been holding—only to meet Mr. Reed’s gaze and tense once more.