Page 3 of Yours Always (The Enduring Hearts #1)

Matthew leaned against the paneled wall of the Weston’s great hall, letting the familiar warmth of Edenfield soak into his bones.

Of all the grand houses that lined the London countryside, Edenfield was the only one that felt like home.

It wasn’t just the elegant whitewashed stone or the wide windows that caught the morning sun, it was the life inside. The laughter. The love.

He watched Robert Weston and Edward Datchbury deep in conversation, their voices low and genial.

He should join them, and he would eventually, but at the moment his mind was on Sarah.

Not the mischievous escapade at the pond that morning, he suspected that was something of a habit.

What concerned him was whether Victoria had found out.

Matthew shifted, glancing toward the staircase. It was nearly an hour past the usual breakfast time and the Weston ladies had yet to appear, which could only mean trouble. He could easily picture the scene: Maria flustered, Sarah unbothered, Victoria seething behind a thin veneer of civility.

Victoria Weston wasn’t cruel, far from it, and Matthew owed her more than words could ever convey. But she was undeniably a force; sharp where Robert was soft, proper where he was kind.

It was Robert’s wise investments and expansive landholdings that built the Weston fortune and gave them a foothold in London Society, but it was Victoria who earned them their status through tireless hospitality, relentless standards, and an unwavering devotion to appearances.

She had elevated the Westons into Society’s good graces, and it was Mary and Sarah who were expected to seal that status through brilliant marriages and spotless reputations.

Mary had cracked under the weight of it.

And Matthew feared that Sarah might do the same.

The sound of slippers on the staircase pulled him from his thoughts.

Victoria Weston entered the hall, calm and composed as ever, her smile dazzling and deliberate.

“My sincerest apologies for keeping you gentlemen waiting,” she said smoothly.

“Sarah overslept and I was helping poor Maria get her ready.” Matthew caught the faint tension in her jaw and bit back a smile. Poor Maria, indeed.

Victoria turned toward the breakfast room with a gracious sweep of her arm. “Come, let’s not delay breakfast any longer.” Matthew fell in behind the others, the quiet rhythm of conversation resuming as they filed into the bright morning room.

Every Monday morning began this way—he and Datchbury were invited to breakfast before their weekly investment meeting with Robert.

It was an unusual practice, but one that felt right in the Weston home.

In this house, even business began with bread and tea.

Everyone who crossed the threshold was treated like family.

How many meals had he shared here? Mornings filled with Benjamin’s laughter, and evenings warmed by Robert’s steady humor and Victoria’s carefully measured indulgence.

Even now, grown and bearing the weight of his own responsibilities, something in him loosened when he walked through Edenfield’s door.

This place had given him a childhood. A family. A dream of what life could be.

He had been only ten when his parents died, leaving him alone in a small Scottish village with little more than memories and his father’s failing shipping company.

His uncle, a shrewd businessman and the last of his family, had taken him in and brought him to London where he met Benjamin Weston.

The Westons had embraced him from the beginning, Robert in particular, who seemed to understand the sharp mind and unwavering loyalty beneath his quiet manner.

From the moment Matthew and Benjamin met, they had been inseparable.

They attended Eton together at thirteen, and when Matthew’s uncle fell ill two years later and returned to Scotland, it was the Westons who quietly paid Matthew’s school fees and gave him a room each summer.

Edenfield had given him more than shelter, it had given him a second chance.

After finishing at Eton, he had purchased a modest townhouse with the salary Robert offered him in exchange for managing his investments and landholdings.

When his uncle died soon after, Matthew inherited the shipping company his father had founded.

With Robert’s guidance and Datchbury’s investment, he was rebuilding it into something formidable.

He wasn’t a lord and he never would be, but he was respected, well- liked and welcome at any table. That was enough.

Matthew slid into his usual seat next to where Sarah usually sat. His hand brushed the well-worn wood of the chair beside him, and his heart pulled taut. The clock chimed. Still no Sarah. Across the table, Robert reached for his wife’s hand with quiet affection. “Shall we say grace?”

“Aren’t we going to wait for Liz?” Matthew asked, the old pet name escaping before he could stop it.

Victoria’s smile faltered. “Sarah has kept us waiting long enough. She will join us when she’s ready.” The coolness in her tone was unmistakable, and Matthew knew better than to push. He bowed his head quietly as Robert began to pray.

Halfway through, light footsteps crossed the floor and the scent of peppermint teased the air.

When Robert murmured “Amen,” Matthew lifted his head, and there she was.

Sarah slipped into the seat beside him, cheeks flushed and curls only half-tamed.

Her eyes darted toward Datchbury, then quickly away.

Her mortification was so palpable, Matthew almost pitied her. Almost.

He smothered a grin as he reached for the eggs. Datchbury greeted Sarah cheerfully, but Victoria didn’t even glance her way. Whatever lecture Sarah had received upstairs, it was far from over.

“Started without me, I see!” Benjamin Weston entered the room with a relaxed smile, pausing to kiss his mother’s cheek before flopping into the chair beside his sister.

“Morning, Lizzy,” he said, heaping eggs onto his plate.

“How is the day treating you?” Sarah squirmed and Matthew could feel the heat radiating from her skin.

He stole a glance at Benjamin, who smirked wickedly in return.

“Do you have any plans after you meet with Father and Datchbury this morning, Matt?” Benjamin asked innocently. “I thought maybe we could head down to the pond. We could fish, and Lizzy here could go for a—”

“Yes!” Sarah interrupted, her voice unnaturally bright. “Fishing sounds lovely.” Benjamin winked. “Right. Fishing.”

Matthew couldn’t help himself. “A swim sounds even better. What do you say, Liz?” Sarah glared at him, stuffing a forkful of ham into her mouth to avoid answering.

Across the table, Victoria murmured something about impropriety and Robert and Datchbury continued discussing shipping routes. Matthew just smiled.

This was Edenfield.

This was home.

______________________

Sarah let her toes drift through the pond’s cool water, her skirts tucked up to her knees as she perched on the grassy bank.

A soft spring breeze lifted the strands of hair that had slipped loose from her braid.

Grace lay beside her in the grass, gazing dreamily across the pond at Benjamin, who stood thigh-deep in the water arguing good-naturedly with Matthew over a fishing line.

Sarah tossed a pebble into the water, watching the ripples fan outward.

“I still want to know how he found out so quickly.” Grace laughed.

“Oh, Lizzy. From what I heard, it’s all anyone’s been talking about.

Maria told Cook, Cook told the gardener, the gardener told the footman, and by the time Ben came downstairs, half the house knew you had gone swimming. ”

Sarah groaned and flopped back in the grass.

“Poor Maria.” Grace turned her head, smiling.

“You do keep life interesting.” Sarah shrugged, shading her eyes with one hand.

“Someone has to.” A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the hum of dragonflies and the splash of Benjamin hauling in a stubborn trout.

“You know they only tease you so because they hold you dear.” Grace said softly. “Benjamin and Matthew only want to see you happy and safe.”

“I know.” Sarah’s voice was quiet. She traced lazy patterns in the grass, glancing back across the pond to see her brother offering Grace a soft smile.

It was almost magical how his easy humor softened into something deeper when he looked at her.

It was the kind of gaze Sarah had once believed was found only in the pages of a novel.

“Enjoying the view, my dear?” Benjamin called.

Grace’s cheeks pinked, but she didn’t deny it.

Sarah smiled to herself. She had once worried when Benjamin first confessed his feelings for her best friend; worried it would change everything.

But watching them now, it felt like everything had fallen exactly into place.

And someday—someday—she wanted that kind of love too.

Someone who saw her completely, wild heart and all, and loved her because of it, not despite it.

Her gaze drifted to the far bank, where Matthew stood laughing as Benjamin splashed water at him. She didn’t realize how long her eyes lingered on him. But Grace did.