Page 8 of A Wish Upon an Earl (A Maypole in Mayfair #3)

F riends?

The word rang hollow.

Since the age of fourteen, she’d known how she felt about this man.

Trying to be just friends had been the problem then and it was the problem now.

She drew in a ragged breath as her gaze lifted to his.

“Jack,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t think…” What could she say? That she still had feelings for him? After all this time? The very idea that she’d open herself up to him like that again was more than she could bear.

“Please.” The single word came out rough and hoarse, and she drew back in surprise. He sounded as though he really cared.

“But,” she started, wishing she could stand too. Her chin notched up as she assessed him. She felt small like this, as though she were still that girl he’d crushed like a flower under his boot. “Haven’t we already proven that friendship between us doesn’t really work?”

He grimaced. A flicker of pain crossed his face. “We were young then. Now, we are older and, hopefully, wiser.”

That made her a smile. Just a bit. “I’m not so sure. We both chose horrid costumes last night. What does that say about our judgement?”

He chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t it be nicer to make those terrible decisions together?”

Yes . Yes, it would.

But not the way he wanted. Sarah didn’t want his friendship.

Looking at him, she knew that she wanted so much more.

His kisses, his affection. To be his friend, however, meant she got some small part of that, but it also meant she’d have to participate in his life when he met the woman he actually wished to marry. Perhaps he’d even love her.

Pain far worse than her ankle radiated out from her heart. How would she watch that all happen and not share her feelings? She’d just risk another rejection from him.

But she also didn’t have it in her to say no to him now. Sarah made a habit of protecting those she cared for, and Jack, even after everything, was counted among those people. “We can’t wear matching costumes to parties. People will talk.”

He chuckled as he returned to his seat. “Coordinated, then?”

She gave him the eye, one of her lids closing into a slit as she pretended to consider his words while still glaring. “I told you. I’ve grown out of such nonsense.”

“That’s too bad,” he fired back, returning her one-eyed glare. “I liked that nonsense.”

Her stomach did a funny roll.

He didn’t mean that. No one had liked her theatrical tendencies. Not even her family. They’d only indulged her because they loved the rest of her.

Even Ash had chastised her in his way after Jack had broken her heart. When she’d told him of the incident, he’d made some comment about toning down her behavior and developing a stiff upper lip.

She let out a small, rather unladylike snort. “You liked me going about spouting Shakespeare, dressing in costume, and telling you stories and?—”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “I did.”

She didn’t believe him.

It was that simple. Or perhaps it wasn’t.

Because a part of her really wanted to. While she embraced her role as Ash’s support system, there were times when she missed her old self.

Those were the moments she slipped back into the person who went about dreaming up stories and then made wishes on maypoles.

“Well, thank you for that.” She looked over at the chair. “Does that contraption remind you of a chariot?”

He looked over at the chair. “Please don’t tell me you want to rig it to a horse.”

A grin played at her lips. But as quickly as it appeared, it fell away again. “See. I knew you didn’t like my wild imaginings.”

“I love them, but as I’ve already injured you once this visit, I’d like not to be responsible for any more bodily harm. You’re far too lovely to?—”

“Nonsense.” The compliment made her start. Lovely? He was only being kind. Wasn’t he?

“Sarah.” His voice dropped several notches, the sound whispering over her skin, causing her to tingle in the strangest way. “You know that you are beautiful, don’t you?”

Her mouth opened to speak but then closed again, heat filling her cheeks. How she’d longed to hear those words, and from him, no less.

But she had to keep her head. This was not a romantic fantasy, and he was not going to declare his love in the next breath.

He was like Ash, her brother, telling her that she was wonderful.

It came from a place of platonic affection.

He’d outright told her he’d considered her a sister.

“Poppycock.” Then she looked away before he could respond.

“Can you believe that I’ve grown tired already?

Do you think that you could escort me back to my room? ”

“Of course,” he answered as he rose again.

But rather than aid her in rising, he slid his arms under her body and lifted her off the settee.

Her arms automatically wrapped around his neck, his heat and strength seeming to seep into her very bones until he had her settled in the chair.

“I’ll leave this contraption in your room so that the footmen might move you about the house. ”

She shook her head. They had a house full of guests, all of whom had no idea she’d been injured.

While it was completely acceptable for a woman to faint or suffer from headaches, to admit she’d fallen in her dress—she’d be viewed as graceless and unladylike.

“Can’t you just see me being wheeled around the house party? ”

He pushed her out the doors toward her room, Rebecca following once again. Jack leaned down, whispering close to her ear, “I can.”

“Don’t be silly. Can you just imagine the talk?”

He chuckled. “It won’t be any worse than when they figure out who the bumbling knight was. That’s what they’re calling me. Not that they know it was me yet. It’s all a great mystery, apparently.”

“They can’t know,” she whispered, looking back at him, her eyes wide with alarm.

“I can stand the scandal. There are far more important things in life.”

She looked up at him, lost for words. She’d sworn never to play the fool again, so how did he make the idea sound tempting?

Then she shook off the notion. With Ash and Camilla marrying, Sarah had to think about her own future. She’d not ruin her prospects now. How would that help her brother? “Not all of us are earls. My reputation couldn’t tolerate such a blunder.”

“Hang your reputation and what the rest of them think. I think you should be yourself.”

Tempting.

But no.

She’d learned the hard way, thanks to him, that herself was exactly who she needn’t be at all.

* * *

Two days passed when Jack didn’t see Sarah at all.

He had noted that her friends were making frequent trips up to her room to keep her company while she was “ill,” but he’d not seen her since the delivery of that chair.

Which was fair. Ash had only granted permission so that he might apologize and give her his peace offering, but he found that being so close made it even more difficult to stay away.

For the last five years, he’d not spent time with her, and now…now that they’d arrived at some sort of understanding, all he wanted to do was be near her.

He watched Aubrey make her way up the stairs. As a married woman, she had more freedom than the rest of their friends, and she used that to spend a great deal of time with Sarah.

He hated to bother the duchess, but he’d asked Ash earlier if his sister was improving and he had been no help at all.

In fact, if he were honest, Ash had been uncharacteristically cold. He’d not been rude in any way, but he’d not answered a single question Jack had asked before he’d announced that his bride-to-be was waiting, and he needed to quit to their private lunch.

He didn’t blame Ash for pushing him away. He deserved far worse. And he knew that Ash was unlikely to allow him to court Sarah, no matter how much he wished for the chance. But even if she couldn’t be his, he’d help her find her way back to herself. That much he could do.

He had an idea of how to go about bolstering Sarah, but he needed some help and information. Jack had no choice but to seek out the only reliable source when one needed real knowledge. A woman.

He found a spot in the foyer where he was tucked away but had a view of the stairs. It took three quarters of an hour, but Aubrey finally returned to the party.

He pushed off the wall and headed straight for her. She saw him coming and stopped, eyes growing wide.

“Your Grace,” he said, giving a short bow.

“My lord,” she returned. “S-so nice to see y-you again.”

He heard her faint stutter and stopped. He’d never heard the duchess stutter before, and he wondered why she’d done so now.

Had he been too aggressive in his approach?

He hoped not, but it seemed to be a theme for him at this house party.

Desperation was not sitting well on him.

He took a breath, forcing himself to relax and observe the niceties. “And you as well. Enjoying the party?”

“Yes,” Aubrey answered, giving him a very kind smile and visibly relaxing. “Though I am missing my friend.”

The tension in his shoulders eased. She knew exactly why he’d sought her out and she’d given him the perfect excuse to dive into his request. “As am I.”

Her smile broadened. “Are you? I’m glad to hear it.”

His brow furrowed. What had the duchess read into his comment? Had she guessed at his feelings? “I’m assuming Sarah is also tired of being cooped up in her room.”

“Very much so,” Aubrey said as she stepped closer. “I know that she works very hard at her responsibilities, which is why it’s hard for her to miss the party she put so much work into.”

He cocked his head to the side. “She doesn’t enjoy the events?”

“Oh.” Aubrey blinked as her lips pressed together. “She handles it all so effortlessly, I’m not certain if she does or doesn’t.”

He grimaced. “I’d hoped you would tell me she loved them. She used to be so full of?—”

“What?” Aubrey asked.

“Fancy,” he answered. “It’s a side of herself, as far as I can tell, she’s lost entirely.”

Aubrey shook her head. “That’s not true. It’s still there, though you’re right. She does try to hide it.” Then she moved closer again. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He nodded, exceedingly glad he’d sought out the duchess.

“They erected a maypole in Mayfair, where we attended school together. When Sarah was dancing about it, she made a wish.”

That made him smile. Sarah dancing and wishing—that sounded like the Sarah he remembered. The one he wanted to see a glimmer of again. “What did she wish for?”

“You,” Aubrey said, and then she winked.

That nearly stole his breath from his lungs. “She wished for me?”

“Well…” Aubrey held up a single finger. “Actually, she wished for a knight in shining armor. I think since her brother’s death…”

An ache tightened his chest. He’d seen her at the funeral, of course. He’d wanted to talk with her, comfort her even, but it hadn’t seemed like the time to try to clear up old grievances. It had nearly killed him not to comfort her. “That would make anyone forget to be fanciful.”

Aubrey shook her head. “Actually, I think it had the opposite effect. More and more often, I see her slipping off into a dreamy state. She’s trying for Ash to bear the weight of responsibility, but I also think she misses so many parts of her life that are now gone.”

He ached for her. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to decide what to do. She needed whimsy and fun now more than ever. A reminder of how wonderful the old Sarah had been. “Your Grace…” He leaned his head down. “Do you think that you might be able to help me give her a bit of fun?”

Aubrey’s brows shot up. “What do you have in mind?”