How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,2

in the hope the experience would give me a little…polish.”

“Did it?” Lady Whitmore asked innocently.

Sarah laughed. “In all honesty, no. But it did open my eyes to many things, mainly my own ignorance. I realized there was more to the world than climbing trees and doing exactly what I wished. I learned what I liked to do and what I was good at—singing. And I realized I needed to broaden my mind as well as my accomplishments. Somewhere along the way, I heard of Whitmore, and when we came home, I asked Hammy to investigate for me. I am here with my parents’ permission, although I suspect they tell their friends I am still abroad.”

“Interesting,” Lady Whitmore murmured.

Saunders, the dignified butler, opened the doors once more. “Dinner is served, Your Grace.”

Again, Sarah had to swallow back her curiosity as they rose and accompanied Lady Whitmore to a dining room that was not the huge banqueting hall Sarah expected, but a pleasant, comfortable room with another charming view of the sea under the darkening sky.

“I prefer to dine here with my guests,” Lady Whitmore said. “Since comfort is so much more important than formality.”

The servants withdrew after serving each course, which added further to the sense of intimacy. At first, Lady Whitmore’s conversation was impersonal and pleasantly humorous. Only when the fish course had been cleared away and a game pie set before them, did their hostess ask Sarah, “So, have you found what you wanted to at Whitmore?”

“Yes, I believe I have. And I fear we shall be leaving quite soon.”

“We shall miss you. Might I ask what you intend to do?”

“Go back to the real world,” Sarah said wryly, “and implement my new…knowledge.”

Lady Whitmore raised one intrigued eyebrow. “In what way?”

“In the way I always meant to.”

Lady Whitmore, who ate sparingly, laid down her knife and fork. “I would be honored to know what that is. As you may have guessed, I like to help my guests when I can, even when they leave us. Of course, you are under no obligation to reveal anything, but I have watched you grow and blossom here, and I hope I may be of some use to you. I know who you are, of course, but not the true motivation behind your long stay with us.”

Sarah shifted uncomfortably and reached for her wine. Without lifting the glass, she said, “I believe I am afraid to lose your good opinion. You will think me petty, and perhaps you are right, but I came to prove something to myself and to my family. And to…a certain high-ranking gentleman.”

“Perhaps you should begin at the beginning,” Lady Whitmore said calmly. “Which is that you were born Lady Sarah Merrington, the youngest daughter of the Earl of Drimmen.”

Sarah inclined her head with mock pride. “I shall not bore you with the story of my life! It will bring back too many horrible memories for poor Hammy here. I was something of a wild child. My brothers and sisters were much older, and so I played with local children at Merrin Park—the family estate where I was largely brought up. Most of my friends were village boys and farmers’ sons. One day, when I was about sixteen, my parents noticed me and were appalled. They decided I should learn to be a lady, and poor Hammy tried again to drum some manners and etiquette into me.”

“She could behave very well when she chose,” Hammy put in.

Sarah cast her a quick, apologetic smile. “Well, it made Hammy unhappy when I behaved badly, so I tried not to. Then, before I was even out, my parents arranged a possible—and brilliant—match for me. With the high-ranking gentleman I mentioned before.” She sipped the wine thoughtfully and set down the glass. “I should probably say that I had seen my older sisters make advantageous matches that made them neither happy nor interesting people, so I resolved that if I was to marry the duke, he would have to like me as I am.”

“Which is to say a wild, self-willed but caring child?” Lady Whitmore suggested.

Sarah blinked in surprise at the last epithet, though Hammy said warmly, “Exactly.”

Sarah shrugged. “So, the day he came to Merrin Park, I hid up a tree and watched for his arrival. I threw crab apples at his carriage as it drove through the grounds. The coachman was furious with me and stopped especially to tell me off.”

“Did you throw an apple at him, too?” Lady Whitmore inquired.

“No,