Page 3 of A Wish Upon an Earl (A Maypole in Mayfair #3)

S arah just managed to make it outside. This dratted costume had made the short journey from the ballroom to the terrace ridiculously difficult, but the cool air against her skin made it worth the effort.

And the peace. There were a few guests milling about, but most were inside in the crush of the party, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

She hadn’t much liked masquerades since the incident , which was a shame since prior to that she’d loved any excuse to dress in costume.

Truth be told, she’d loved acting and dramatic reading…

but she’d given all that up. It had been childish fantasy, and now more than ever she needed to be as mature as possible to support Ash.

Sarah had only held a masquerade because her party had needed a theme in order to be a success. Her eldest brother had died unexpectedly the year prior, and her second brother had suddenly been thrust into the role of marquess.

She was doing her best to aid him, and that meant helping him to run the house and make the necessary social connections…which had led her to this party. Ash swore he didn’t need her to do any of it, but she knew what made a man successful, and this was part of the role.

The breath of air was delicious.

She’d needed this break. This bit of quiet amid the crowd and the noise.

Especially with the arrival of that knight.

She shivered, her arms wrapping about her middle, fabric from her sleeves trailing along the ground.

He was a reminder that she’d allowed herself to slip back into old habits.

Stories and knights and whimsical dreams of dashing rescues and public declarations of love.

But even if she’d wished to be that dreamy girl again, which she didn’t, there was no room for that person in her life. She had responsibilities now.

And besides, being a romantic…well, it opened up a person to others’ scorn.

She’d experienced that herself, of course.

But she saw it with her friend Rose too.

Rose was a dreamer, a kindhearted, poetry-spouting lover of all things beautiful in the world.

And what did that get Rose? Teased by the other girls at their school and mocked by gentlemen she met.

Rose was unapologetically herself, an admirable trait, but Sarah had been pragmatic enough to see the wisdom in change. After all, one couldn’t be a child forever.

Looking up, stars twinkled in the sky, winking at her as though tempting her to throw her rational reasoning aside and dance among them. She sighed. Not in this dress.

Her eyes cast back to the party. Not ever.

The squeak of metal rubbing upon metal was her first indication that she wasn’t alone. Then she heard the definite clomp of heavy footfalls behind her. A knot of dread formed in her stomach.

Turning, Sarah drew in a sharp breath. Coming toward her was the very knight who’d been staring at her across the room.

“Forgive me,” his muffled voice called through the slits on the helmet, “but I’d like to request a moment of your time.”

She looked around, realizing the folly in her plan to step outside.

She was unattended by her brother, and Aubrey had yet to step outside to join her.

She cast a quick glance about to see if other guests were around, but she was more or less alone with whoever resided under that suit of armor.

“If you’d like to petition my brother for an audience, you’re welcome, sir, but?—”

He held up a hand, looking for all the world like he was about to stop an army. The metal armor made him look larger than life. Tall and broad and terribly masculine… Sarah closed her eyes, righting her wayward mind. She would not paint this meeting with any sort of romantic brush.

“Ash would surely grant it.”

Ash? How did this man know her brother that he’d be so familiar?

“Then perhaps you should find him. He’s not wearing a mask and his costume is easy enough to pick out.

He’s a Grecian soldier. You won’t see his red hair, of course, because of the helmet, but the large red plume will surely…

” Sarah stopped. Why was she babbling on and on to this man?

And why had she brought up the auburn hair she and her brother shared? Certainly it made them stand out in a crowd, but the locks drew enough attention without her pointing them out.

Sarah dipped her head and, as if to mock her, a lock of that hair fell over her shoulder.

She moved to push it back, but as she did, her trailing sleeve thwacked her face.

She squeaked in surprise, blinking several times.

How had she just managed to make this elegant costume a farce, and what had her so riled?

Like that question needed an answer. A knight stood before her, and even clumsy as he was, he still looked as though he’d stepped straight out of a fantasy.

“It seems I’m not the only one with costume issues this evening.”

She let out another breath. “No. My friends had this made for me, which was terribly generous but?—”

“But?” he asked. “It looks lovely on you. Better even. You look like a heroine from a story. A maiden or damsel?—”

Her stomach dropped. “Nonsense.”

“What?” The word seemed to echo in his mask, reverberating but sounding both harsh and a bit intimidating.

And oddly familiar. Despite the muffling, she had the distinct impression she knew that voice.

She shook her head, starting to gather the skirts in her hands once again.

She needed to return to the party and the safety of the crowd she’d just left.

This meeting was a bit unsettling, and how had it taken such a personal turn?

The very topics that had been circling in her thoughts he’d touched upon in only a few simple lines.

“I should be getting back inside. Ash will surely be looking for me.”

“Sarah, I just need a minute.” He stepped closer.

Sarah? Something in the way he said the name. It rang with a familiarity that made her startle. He’d sounded like…

But that was ridiculous. It couldn't be Ash’s friend Jack. Because she’d made a complete fool of herself in front of Jack when she’d professed her feelings toward him and he’d been so callous in his rejection.

The world would surely not be cruel enough to send him to her now, standing in the very suit of armor she’d dreamed of for her hero. “Jack?” she asked, his name coming out in a gasp.

“Yes,” he answered, moving another step closer, creaking as he did so. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you for some time.”

Sarah shook her head. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

She was still embarrassed, of course, but beyond that…

he’d hurt her terribly, and she didn’t want to have to pretend.

It was easier not to speak than to have to feign politeness.

“Really, I must go back inside. People will…” She turned away before she could finish, her skirts gathered as she started to move around him.

He stood between her and the door, but she wasn’t concerned.

He moved so slowly, even in her dress she could surely get past him.

But on her second step, she realized something was wrong. Her arm jerked back and her body halted. A quick glance and she realized he stood on her sleeve. Sarah gave a tug, but the dratted thing didn’t move.

He looked down and, realizing the mistake, he lifted his foot at the exact same moment she pulled again.

For a split second, Sarah smiled. She was free and she could leave this uncomfortable conversation, but her relief only lasted for that single moment until she stumbled back, her dress making it difficult to get her balance once again and her feet under her.

With sheer will, she kept her feet only to look up and see…

Well, to see the knight, or rather Jack, stumble to the side as well. He looked like a great lumbering beast who’d tipped too far to one side. In slow motion, he seemed to fall, and Sarah froze, trying to decide how to help when…when she realized her mistake.

As he swung out his arms for balance, his lance sliced through the air, heading straight for her.

With a strangled scream, she tried to jump out of the way, but the dress tangled in her legs and she only managed a half hop just as the lance crashed into one of her ankles. Pain exploded in her leg as she collapsed to the ground.

* * *

Jack had barely righted himself when he heard her scream of pain. Fear jolted through him as he tore off the helmet to see Sarah lying in a pool of fabric, her body bent as she clutched her ankle.

Tossing the lance aside, he hobbled over to her, being careful not to injure her further as he dropped down. “Sarah?”

She gasped in a breath. “Jack. My ankle. I…”

He ripped off first one gauntlet and then the other.

“Oh, Sarah.” The words I’m sorry leapt to his lips, but he held them back.

He’d yet to apologize for the first way he’d wronged her.

Now he needed to apologize for another? Did he start with this and work his way back?

How had he managed to make this situation infinitely worse? “What happened?”

Her green eyes rose to his, the pain only diminished by the anger that flared in them. “What happened? What happened ? Your lance crashed into me.”

He winced, unbuckling more of his suit as he tried to take several pieces off. How could he carry her inside while wearing this monstrosity?

“In all those stories you told, it never once occurred to me to ask how a knight managed to save a woman and then lift her onto his horse to ride away into the sunset with one of these cages on. It’s not possible, I tell you.”

Sarah groaned. “Can we please not talk about the stories I told? I’m in enough pain.”

He squinted down at her. “Your stories weren’t painful.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but a voice behind him made her stop. “Sarah? Are you all right?”

“Aubrey,” Sarah yelped, her breath hitching. “I’ve…I’ve fallen. I tripped on the dress.”

Aubrey gasped, coming to her other side.