Page 4 of Yours Always (The Enduring Hearts #1)

The Edenfield library glowed softly in the fading afternoon light.

The sunlight that flickered through the windows cast shadows across the high shelves, and illuminated the edges of the books that lived on them.

Sarah was curled up on the chaise, her legs tucked beneath her, a well-worn copy of Persuasion balanced delicately in her lap.

One hand absently turned the pages while her mind wandered, not quite paying attention to the words.

Across the room, Matthew leaned against the fireplace, arms folded over his chest, watching her with a faintly amused tilt to his mouth.

His jacket was unbuttoned, his hair ruffled by the wind that had chased him in from outside, and he looked every inch the man who belonged both in the drawing rooms of London and at the helm of a ship cutting through storm-tossed waves.

"You know," he drawled, his voice laced with his usual warmth, "I’m beginning to think you read those novels only to find fault with the heroes. "

Sarah’s head snapped up, a smile playing at her lips despite her attempt at indignation.

"I do not!" she protested, though her cheeks warmed under his gaze. Matthew pushed away from the fireplace and crossed the room in a few easy strides. He kneeled to lean against the arm of the chaise, peering down at the open book. Sarah prayed he couldn’t hear the way her heartbeat had stuttered when he leaned in close, or how her breath had stopped the moment his brushed against her cheek.

"Let me guess," he teased. "Another brooding gentleman with a tragic past and an admirable jawline, prone to long silences and meaningful glances?

" Benjamin, sprawled across an armchair with one leg slung over the side, snorted loudly. "Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Lizzy? Perhaps you’ve always had a soft spot for that type. "

Sarah shot him a look that promised retaliation, but the blush rose higher in her cheek as she fought to regain control of her thoughts, and her heart.

"At least they’re not dull," she countered, flipping the book closed with a snap.

"Besides, it’s better than reading dry shipping ledgers or investment reports.

" Matthew’s lips quirked into a slow smile. "Touché."

From the corner, where she had been silently seated with her needlepoint, Victoria’s voice cut in, cool and measured.

"At least those reports ensure the future of this family.

" Her gaze flicked briefly to Matthew, then to Benjamin, and finally settled on Sarah, her eyes sharp beneath the veil of propriety. Benjamin straightened, his usual mischief dimming under his mother’s scrutiny.

"Come now, Mother. No need to spoil the fun. We were only teasing Lizzy."

Matthew, sensing the shift in the room, moved to stand a little straighter.

"Of course," he said lightly. "No harm meant, Mrs. Weston.

" Victoria’s lips thinned, though she said nothing.

Instead, she reached for the teacup on the side table with the measured grace of a queen considering her subjects.

A chill hung in the air where Matthew had been, and it filled Sarah with a rush of relief and disappointment.

She tried to shake off the sudden heaviness in the room, but her pulse fluttered uncomfortably.

The warmth of Matthew’s teasing and the familiar cadence of their playful exchanges should have been easy and natural, but there was something in the way his green eyes lingered on her now.

Something deeper beneath the surface that made her skin tingle and her thoughts scatter.

She wasn’t sure when this shift had started; when the easy friendship between them had begun to feel like standing too close to the edge of something vast and unfamiliar.

When the weight of his gaze made her breath catch in her throat and the mere presence of him made her brain stutter.

She tried to ignore it and tell herself it was nothing, but the truth tugged at the edges of her thoughts.

She looked up at him, searching for the reassurance of his usual, teasing grin, but found instead a softness that made her chest ache. A smile that settled behind his eyes and lingered, like he was seeing something more than just the girl curled up with a book.

"Well," Benjamin said, breaking the silence with a grin that curled at the edges, "if we’re quite finished teasing Lizzy about her reading preferences, I’d say there are more than a few chapters left in this story to explore." His gaze flicked between Sarah and Matthew, the tone in his voice held a hint of suggestion that Sarah couldn’t quite decipher. Her cheeks flamed and Matthew’s smile faltered just enough for the air to tighten between them.

Victoria stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the polished floor, cutting off Benjamin’s words and drawing every eye in the room. Without a word, she turned and swept from the library leaving behind the echo of silence and a sudden weight in the air.

Sarah’s hands tightened around the edges of her book, her throat tightening. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something in her world had just changed, and that she wasn’t quite ready to accept what it meant.

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The soft tick of the clock echoed through the early morning silence in the Westons’ drawing room; a steady reminder of time slipping away.

Sarah sat stiffly on the rose-patterned settee, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Across from her, her mother sat perched in an armchair, her gloved fingers resting lightly on the armrest. Even gravity itself dared not rumple her composure.

Benjamin lounged near the window, arms crossed over his chest, his brows drawn into a frown.

“Sarah,” Victoria began, her voice calm and almost gentle, which Sarah knew was far more dangerous than raised tones. “We cannot delay any longer. The Season will be upon us in a few short weeks. Your name has been submitted for presentation.”

Sarah’s stomach twisted into knots. “But, Mother—” she began, only for Victoria to lift a silencing hand. “You are twenty years old.” her mother continued smoothly. “There has been enough leniency. It is past time for you to take your place in society. If we delay any longer people will talk.”

“More than they are already?” Sarah mumbled under her breath. She glanced toward Benjamin, who caught her eye and shook his head, warning her to tread carefully.

Victoria leaned forward slightly. “We have been fortunate, after what happened with Mary. If people had suspected...” Her voice faltered.

Sarah flinched at her sister’s name. Mary’s absence had become a shadow stretched across their family, long, cold, and full of silent shame.

“...it could have been devastating,” Victoria concluded.

“Mother,” Benjamin said quietly, stepping forward.

“Sarah is not Mary.” Victoria’s lips thinned.

“I pray that’s true. But appearances matter, Benjamin.

Reputation matters.” She turned back to Sarah.

“Your sister trusted the wrong man. She was foolish. She believed herself in love with someone beneath her station, who sought only to use her. Look what it cost us. What it cost her.”

Sarah swallowed hard, the old ache in her chest resurfacing.

They hadn’t heard from Mary in three years.

Not a letter. Not a whisper. Only the aching memory of her laughter, her brightness, and the way she had vanished into the night leaving behind a family who was trying desperately to pretend the wound wasn’t fatal.

“I am not Mary,” Sarah echoed her brother’s words, her voice steadier than she felt.

Victoria softened slightly. “No, you are not. Which is why we must act now, while your name remains untarnished.” Benjamin ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You speak as if marrying is the only thing that gives her worth.”

Victoria’s gaze sharpened. “It is not her worth I question. It is her security, and her future.” The room felt too small and the air too thin.

Sarah longed to run outside and ride Stella to the farthest field and let the wind strip the weight of her mother’s expectations from her shoulders. But she didn’t move.

“Your father agrees,” Victoria added, the final hammer falling with practiced precision.

“You will be presented this Season, Sarah. You will make the acquaintance of suitable gentlemen. You will do your duty, for yourself, and for this family.” Benjamin opened his mouth to argue again, but Sarah reached out and touched his hand lightly, stopping him.

Everyone knew that when Robert agreed, it usually meant he’d decided the argument wasn’t worth having. Victoria didn’t need force, she had endurance. Sooner or later, she always outlasted you.

Sarah had known, deep down, that this day was coming, but grief still caught her off guard, sharp and stinging, like stepping barefoot onto glass.

“I understand,” she said quietly. Victoria offered a small, approving smile as she stood and smoothed the front of her gown.

“Good. Maria will begin preparing your wardrobe immediately. We must ensure you make an excellent impression.”

As their mother swept from the room, Benjamin collapsed into the chair beside her with a groan. “Forgive me, Lizzy,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “I tried.” Sarah leaned her head against his shoulder, allowing herself one small comfort. “I know,” she whispered.

They sat in silence for a long time, the past and the future pressing in around them. Neither spoke of Mary again. Neither spoke of the life Sarah would now be expected to lead, or the one she would be expected to leave behind.

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