Page 5 of A Wish Upon an Earl (A Maypole in Mayfair #3)

S arah could confess, at least in her own private thoughts, that being carried by Jack was delightful.

One had to first suspend embarrassment, but considering he’d just knocked her over with a lance, she found her own feelings of insecurity had diminished.

He’d had his own rather embarrassing incident with a costume, and she was sure, at some point, she’d find this entire evening wonderfully comical. And though her ankle still throbbed terribly, she was tucked so comfortably in his embrace that her worries melted away.

Which left her free to remember all the reasons she’d had an infatuation with him in the first place.

It started with the breadth of the shoulders under her hands. The ease with which he carried her now had something to do with it as well.

She snuck a glance up at his profile. His strong square jaw was even more pronounced as he frowned.

His straight nose led her gaze up to his piercing brown eyes.

His normally perfectly coiffed brown hair had been mussed by the helmet in a way that was somehow more attractive because it was more… intimate.

She had the distinct urge to brush the locks back, let her fingers run through them. Were they silky? Coarse?

Then she shook her head. What was she thinking?

“Sarah.” Jack’s voice cut through her musings as she blinked several times.

“What?” she asked as she looked up at him, realizing he was glancing down and that they were rather close as they angled toward one another. Her breath caught as she stared up at him.

She’d never kissed a man before, but in this moment, she wondered what it might be like. Was he thinking the same about her?

She gave herself a mental shake. Of course he wasn’t.

“Which way?” he asked, his eyebrows rising. They stood in the hall, and she realized he’d negotiated her through the door in his arms, all while she’d been dreaming of kisses in the moonlight.

“To the left, up the stairs to the third floor,” she squeaked out, her face heating. Hopefully the low light hid the bright red color that had surely filled her cheeks.

“Aubrey, why don’t you return to the party,” Drew rumbled from behind them. “I’ll chaperone Sarah upstairs. And let Ash know what’s happened.”

“Of course,” Aubrey answered. “I’ll be up to check on you later,” she said to Sarah before she started down the hall to the main entry and the ballroom beyond.

Jack started up the stairs, carrying her up the first flight without a word.

“I can help if you need,” Drew called from behind them.

Jack’s jaw tensed. “I’m fine.”

“Drew can help,” she repeated. She’d not spoken to Jack in years.

Not even at Malcolm’s funeral. He didn’t have to help her now.

Yes, he was friends with her brother, but that didn’t mean he needed to care for her.

A sentiment he’d been more than clear on the last time they had talked.

“The duke is like family to Ash and to me, and I’m sure he doesn’t mind, do you, Drew? ”

“I don’t,” Drew answered.

Jack looked down at her as he started on the next flight of stairs, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “At one point, I was like family too.”

She stared at him, her lips parting. Did he sound irritated about that?

What did he have to be angry about? He hadn’t been humiliated in front of an entire group of boys who were older.

Laughed and jeered at until she’d left crying, hiding herself in a cluster of bushes.

“I beg your pardon, but you’re the one who laughed at me and made me feel—” She stopped, realizing that she’d been about to spill all her feelings.

Which was ridiculous. She was on the stairs, in his arms, with Drew behind them.

He winced. “About that...”

She shook her head. Perhaps it was the pain throbbing in her ankle or the way he’d touched every nerve with that suit of armor, but she simply did not wish to discuss the past.

It didn’t change anything at this point.

“Not tonight,” she said, knowing full well she never wished to talk about what had happened between them.

In some ways, she supposed she should thank him.

That night had removed her head from the clouds and planted her feet on the ground.

With Malcolm’s death, she’d needed that medicine. Bitter as it had been.

They reached the third floor, and she pointed down the hall. “Third door on the left.”

He gave a single nod, not speaking again. Making his way into the room, he headed straight for the bed.

Which was the moment she realized she’d made a terrible mistake.

This man still made her heart pound wildly in her chest. And now he’d entered her most personal sanctuary and he was about to touch her bed while touching her.

“You can stop here,” Sarah said as she tried to squirm out of his arms. Of all the men to share an intimacy…

He tightened his hold, pulling them even closer together. “Don’t be silly. You shouldn’t put any weight on that leg. I’ll set you on the bed.”

“Jack,” she huffed out on a breath. Didn’t he understand how inappropriate that was? How much it would…affect her? “Please, just stop.”

* * *

Her words made him cringe. He didn’t blame her, but Jack was fairly certain that Sarah hated him.

Why wouldn’t she?

He’d humiliated her. Hurt her. And carrying her up a few flights of stairs wouldn’t make up for any of it.

“Please,” he whispered, attempting not to sound desperate. He’d come here to apologize, but he’d moved so far in the opposite direction that it was ridiculous. “Just allow me to do this for you.”

He didn’t know how to tell her that it wasn’t until he’d destroyed their friendship that he realized how important it had become to him.

There had always been something about Sarah that sparkled bright, and his world had dimmed a bit when she’d been gone from it. Actually, it had darkened a great deal.

And every time Ash spoke of his sister. How she’d gone off to a finishing school, not because she needed to but just because she wanted to make Ash’s job easier, or how she’d been throwing elaborate parties to help him make connections or…

He sighed.

They weren’t likely to be friendly again.

He understood that. But of late, his mother was pushing him to marry and…

what? Why he needed to make up with Sarah before he could move on and choose a bride, he’d yet to puzzle out, but there it was.

When he should have been thinking about potential countesses, all he could picture was Sarah.

Did he just need an infusion of her spirit and lightness before he could settle into the doldrums of matrimony?

Did he wish to have some part in the only family that had ever loved him before he started his own?

Perhaps he couldn’t be trusted with a lady’s heart at all? Or mayhap he’d just missed his friend.

Whatever it was, he’d done nothing tonight but cause more damage.

She looked at him, indecision clouding her eyes. “Jack,” she whispered. “No man has been in my room. It’s…strange.”

Those words eased the pain tightening his chest. In fact, knowing he was the first made him feel a great deal lighter.

“I’ll be the perfect gentleman.” He gave a wink then.

Of course he’d been anything but tonight, between following her to the garden and the entire incident with the lance, but still.

In this, he’d be as chaste as he possibly could.

Gently, he set her on the bed, sliding his arms out from under her as though she were made of fine china.

He heard her sigh, sinking back onto the bed. The sound trilled along his ear, making the muscles in his stomach tighten. He took a step back and then turned to her feet, reaching for the slipper on her injured leg.

But the moment his fingers brushed her foot, she pulled the foot back and let out a cry of pain.

“Sarah,” he said, his gaze snapping to hers. “What are you doing?”

She sat up, clutching at the ankle. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

She was like a skittish colt. He sat down on the foot of the bed. “I just want to take your shoe and stocking off so I can see the damage.”

She frowned. “Is that wise?”

His brows went up. It was him or the doctor, and he wished to assess the damage before that. “May I please check the swelling?”

With a tentative nod, she held still as he took off her dancing slipper and then untied her stocking. Her skin was like silk under his fingers, and he nearly groaned aloud. Perhaps she had been right and this wasn’t the wisest plan.

When he’d removed the silk stocking, he clasped her foot in both his hands, gently turning the leg to look at the damage.

A large lump had formed on the outside of her ankle. “Drat,” she murmured.

“Precisely.” Ever so gently, he touched the damaged flesh. “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Drew asked.

He felt Sarah jump a bit, and Jack had to confess, he startled too. He’d forgotten the other man was there, and he’d been so wrapped up in Sarah and?—

“He’s sorry my injuries look so painful,” Sarah answered for him. “It was so silly. I should have had that gown hemmed shorter.”

He looked at her, his lips parted in surprise. She really was going to bear the blame. It was time he told Amesbury exactly how she’d been hurt.

At that very moment, her door banged open and Ash came striding through. His red hair stood up as though he’d run his fingers through it several times. It was unlike Ash to look so flustered, but between the hair and the look of panic in his eyes… “What happened?”

Aubrey was just behind him, her hands clasped in front of her as she nibbled on her lip.

Jack grimaced. Sarah was not lying for him again. He appreciated what she was trying to do, but he didn’t want her to. Not to Ash. “Ash.” He interjected. “Did you send for the doctor?”

“Of course,” Ash answered as he crossed the room.

Jack looked down at the leg. “The good news is that only one spot is swollen. That should mean that the ankle isn't broken.”

Her brother crossed to the bed, looking down at Sarah’s foot. He made a hissing noise. “The leg doesn’t look good.”

“No,” Jack answered, looking into Sarah’s eyes. Which had gone wide. Was she worried what her brother would think? He wished he could hold her hand in comfort. “It’s a nasty bump to be certain.”

“How did it happen?”

Sarah opened her mouth to answer. Likely about to tell the same story of how it was all her fault. But Jack held up his hand to stop her. Then he looked at Ash. “May I speak to you in the hall?”

Ash gave a single nod and then, with a pat to his sister’s shoulder, turned toward the door. “Aubrey, you’ll keep watch over her?”

“Of course,” Aubrey answered. “Always.”

Jack stood and followed. He’d have to tell Ash the entire truth. He drew in a sharp breath. Could this night get any worse?

He believed the answer was most definitely yes.

Ash stopped just outside the door, turning back to his friend. Without a word, Ash’s arms crossed over his chest.

Jack stopped, straightening. “Do you remember that last visit your family made to Eton?”

Ash blinked in surprise. “I suppose. Probably.” He cocked his head to one side. “What does that have to do with Sarah’s ankle?”

Jack drew in a long breath. “Sarah surprised me out in the garden that night and professed her feelings to me in front of all our chums.”

“I know,” Ash said, his gaze narrowing. “They crowed about it for weeks. They called her the carrot cupid.” He pointed toward the red hair he shared with his sister. “It wasn’t particularly pleasant for either of us.”

Jack scrubbed his face as he chose his next words. “I…I was rather sharp with her that night.”

“I know that too,” Ash answered. “She cried for two weeks.”

His heart sank in his chest. “I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for all of it.”

Ash gave a curt nod. “What does that have to do with tonight?”

“I wanted to apologize,” he started. “When Sarah went out onto the terrace, I followed and?—”

“Wait.” Ash’s hand shot up. “Were you alone with her?”

“There were others about,” Jack answered, crinkling his brow. At least there had been when he’d first stepped out. But now that he considered it, why hadn’t anyone come to help when Sarah had fallen?

“Good,” Ash grunted. “Sarah deserves choices. She’s done so much for me, and I’d hate to see her forced into anything now. Especially with the man who—” Ash stopped, but Jack could fill in the rest of the sentence. With a man she hated? With a man who didn’t deserve her?

He swallowed down the lump of regret that had risen in his throat. Yes, he was a titled earl, but beyond that, Sarah should have a much better man than himself. “To get back to her leg. I nearly lost my balance in that suit, and as I was falling, my lance swung out and knocked her ankle.”

Ash’s eyes widened. “But Aubrey said?—”

“Because that’s what Sarah said. You know Sarah. She was attempting to save my pride.”

Ash shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end again. “That sounds like Sarah.”

“I need to apologize to her, Ash. For what happened tonight and for that mess before.”

Ash shook his head, shifting on his feet. “You’re free to apologize as long as she wishes to hear it. Beyond that, however, I don’t think it wise for the two of you to spend a great deal of time together. She’s not the same girl, and you…” Ash trailed off, his face growing hard.

Jack straightened. Was Ash attempting to say that Jack wasn’t good enough? He’d thought the same of himself, but to hear one of his closest friends say it. It cut deep.

“Thank you,” he answered, despite his hurt and irritation. He’d come here to apologize, and he’d accomplish that at the very least.

“One question.” Ash held up a finger. “Were you the knight who knocked over half the party?”

“I didn’t knock over half the party,” he grumbled back. “But yes. I was the knight.”

Ash’s brows drew together. “Where is the armor now?”

“On the terrace,” he answered, but he understood the problem. Other guests might wonder about it should they stumble across an entire suit of armor scattered about the lawn. “I’d better go and get it.”

“I’ll help you,” Ash answered. “It will be a bit before the doctor arrives.”

Jack shook his head. “You should stay with Sarah. I can take care of the armor myself.”

Ash gave a tight nod. “Drew can help you then.”

The last person Jack wished for help from was the Duke of Amesbury. But he couldn’t refuse. Not politely anyhow.

Now, instead of apologizing to Sarah, he was going to have to explain himself to a duke.