Page 9 of Yours Always (The Enduring Hearts #1)

The gravel path crunched beneath Matthew’s boots as he fell into step beside Sarah.

It was a clear afternoon, the air soft with the first breath of spring.

Hyde Park hummed with the easy rhythm of the Season; ladies strolling in vivid silks, gentlemen tipping their hats with practiced charm, children darting after hoops and kites beneath the golden light.

Everyone was there for the same reason—to see and be seen.

It was the rhythm of the season, as predictable as the turning of the leaves: strolls along the Serpentine, carefully chosen bonnets, eyes scanning the crowds for familiar faces or advantageous introductions.

Even the spontaneity was rehearsed. It was all a performance, gracefully executed and charmingly contrived.

Sarah had come at her mother’s bidding, as so many young women did, urged into the afternoon light with the hope of being admired, approved of and chosen.

Matthew, on the other hand, had arrived under the pretense of keeping Benjamin company as he chaperoned.

Or at least, that was the explanation he had offered out loud.

Not long after arriving, Benjamin had been drawn toward a lively group of gentlemen near the water’s edge, leaving Matthew beside Sarah, step for step, as though it had happened by accident. Though, deep down he suspected it hadn’t.

They had been walking for some time now, their conversation light, and anchored in the kind of familiarity that comes from years spent in each other's orbit.

Here amid the pleasant blur of passing carriages and strolling acquaintances, it was almost possible to pretend.

Among strangers, sunlight and the practiced charm of London Society, they could believe for a moment that nothing between them was changing.

Sarah laughed at something he said—he couldn’t recall what—tossing her head so that the loose tendrils escaping her bonnet caught the sun.

The sound wrapped itself around Matthew’s chest like a melody he hadn’t realized his heart needed to hear.

"You’re lucky you aren’t a debutante," she said, bumping her shoulder lightly against his.

"You’d never survive it. You hate small talk. "

Matthew chuckled. "Aye, and you love it so much yourself, do you?

" She threw him a glance so unguarded, and so fiercely Sarah, he nearly stumbled over his own feet.

"I’ve gotten better," she insisted, lifting her chin with mock dignity.

"I can even feign interest in someone recounting their ancestry back to William the Conqueror. "

"A remarkable talent," Matthew said solemnly. "Sure to win you three proposals by the end of the month." Sarah groaned, briefly hiding her face behind her gloved hands. "Don’t even joke about that." He laughed, but the sound didn’t reach the heaviness in his chest.

He could stay here forever, walking beside her until the sun set and the city stilled. But the Season had begun, and with it came suitors who could offer things he could not. Titles. Estates. Fortunes. A place in the world she was born to enter.

He slowed as they rounded a bend, reluctant to reach the end of their path.

Reluctant, more than anything, to see her step into a future that no longer had room for him.

Sarah glanced up, the laughter dimming in her eyes.

"You’re quiet all of a sudden." He forced a smile, folding his hands behind his back.

"Just imagining you at the center of every ballroom in London, and poor Benjamin having to fend off the hordes. "

She smiled, but it was softer now. "You’ll help too, won’t you, Matty? If I need rescuing?" The nickname slipped from her lips with practiced ease. Matthew’s throat tightened. "Always, Lizzy," he said quietly.

Their eyes met and held for a beat too long.

Long enough for the air to shift between them.

Long enough for Matthew to look away, feigning interest in the ducks gliding across the nearby pond.

That was when he saw her. Victoria Weston stood beneath a cluster of trees, her posture rigid, gloved hands clasped tightly at her waist, mouth drawn into a thin, unreadable line.

Matthew went still. Her gaze was fixed on them, sharp and calculating.

In the eye of the casual observer, he and Sarah could appear to be nothing more than childhood friends enjoying a pleasant afternoon stroll.

But Victoria knew better. She knew the closeness they shared, and the quiet comfort between them.

She knew what it meant for a young woman in the wake of her debut, to walk the park with a man who could offer no elevation or strategic gain.

Matthew offered a respectful nod in her direction. She did not return it. She turned on her heel, skirts swishing with precision, and disappeared down another path like judgment made flesh. Sarah followed his gaze and sighed. “Mother’s nerves are wound tighter than a spool these days.”

Matthew didn’t answer. He only offered her his arm. She took it without hesitation, her hand slipping into the crook of his elbow like it belonged there. They walked on in silence, the bustle of the park fading behind them.

Matthew told himself that whatever dreams had begun to stir in his heart must remain buried. Someday soon, the future would come to claim Sarah Elizabeth Weston, and when that day came, he would be expected to let her go.

______________________

Sarah watched Matthew as he walked away to join Benjamin and the other men gathered near the riverbanks.

She barely had time to draw a breath before she heard her mother’s voice at her side.

“There you are, darling.” Victoria’s tone was pleasant, but Sarah caught the undercurrent, and the subtle tightening around her eyes.

Sarah turned, smoothing her skirts. “Just taking the air, Mama.”

Victoria’s gaze swept casually over the gardens, the promenading couples, and the scattering of carriages.

It lingered, almost imperceptibly, on Matthew’s retreating figure.

“If you’re inclined to stroll,” she said, sweet as spun sugar, “there are plenty of suitable young gentlemen who would be delighted to offer you their arm.” Sarah blinked. “I wasn’t looking for company, Mother.”

“Be that as it may,” Victoria said, slipping her arm through Sarah’s and guiding her smoothly along the path, “it is important to be seen, especially now. Several respectable families have expressed interest since your debut. It would be unwise not to encourage them.” A knot tightened low in Sarah’s stomach. “It was only my first ball.”

“Precisely.” Victoria’s smile was razor-sharp.

“First impressions are the most lasting.” They moved with the rhythm of society, past the blooming hedges and willow branches bowing toward the water.

Ladies tittered behind lace fans; gentlemen doffed their hats and exchanged pleasantries. Sarah hardly noticed.

Victoria’s voice softened, with the hush of something not meant for everyone’s ears “You mustn’t give too much of your time to those who cannot offer you a secure future.

There are men who admire you, men of fortune and name, who deserve your attention.

” There was no need to speak Matthew’s name.

It hung between them like a shadow. He was cherished.

Familiar. Dear. But not acceptable. Not for her.

Sarah kept her gaze forward, her throat tightening.

Victoria gave her hand a gentle pat. “I only want the best for you, Sarah.” Sarah managed a small smile, thin and brittle, but passable.

Gratitude and rebellion warred in her chest. “I know, Mama,” she said softly.

“And when the right man comes along, I promise I’ll recognize him.

” Victoria’s smile deepened in satisfaction, though something sharp and assessing flickered behind her eyes.

“Of course you will,” she said warmly. “You’ve always had a good heart, my dear.

I only hope you’ll let it be guided by sense as well. ”

She leaned in and kissed Sarah’s cheek, the scent of her perfume lingering in her wake as she turned and glided toward a waiting acquaintance.

Sarah stood still, and the path shifted gently beneath her feet.

The music of laughter, the rumble of distant carriages, and the rustle of silk brushed past. Her eyes drifted back toward the river.

There stood Matthew. Shoulders relaxed, head tipped back in laughter, his hair ruffled by the breeze.

His coat collar sat slightly askew, an imperfection that made him look infuriatingly, heartbreakingly real.

He had made no declarations. He hadn’t even looked at her today with anything more than the fondness of an old friend.

He wasn’t the man her mother imagined for her, but he was the only one who made her feel like herself.

Sarah turned from the water, her chin lifting with quiet resolve against the ache blooming in her chest.

If she was foolish enough to dream, she would have to do it in secret. Because dreaming of Matthew Fenwick could cost her everything.

______________________

The drawing room at Lord and Lady Ashcombe’s townhouse shimmered with candlelight, gold-framed mirrors reflecting the glow and multiplying the murmur of conversation and laughter.

Chess sets stood polished on small tables, and the soft strains of a pianoforte drifted through the air.

It was a pleasant scene, by all accounts.

But Matthew found himself standing rigid at the edge of it, one hand resting on the back of a carved chair, watching.