“Probably fell asleep,” he muttered under his breath.
Sara swatted him. “Be nice!”
“That was me being nice,” he grumbled. “That old vicar needs to be replaced and you know it.”
Sara huffed. “Well, yes, but I don’t see any volunteers, plus we’ll be leaving for London soon. We won’t have time to aid in the search.”
He nodded, then a thought popped into his head. “How about we stay for a while?”
Sara looked at him through thick lashes. “Whatever for?”
“Well, wildflowers for one thing,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“Hmm I guess.” She wiggled against him.
“And I did promise you ducks,” he whispered huskily into her ear.
She pushed him away. “That was so long ago, how do you remember?”
“I remember everything about you, my little duckling.” He kissed her nose. “My beautiful, beautiful, perfect little duckling.”
She answered him by kissing him on the mouth. He looked down and caressed her swollen belly. “It’s a boy you know.”
“Well you have been right about every other one.”
He smiled. “I know, so what do you say?”
She winked at him then turned away. “I say we stay for the ducks.”
“Perfect,” he whispered as he watched his wife saunter outside.
He was left alone in his study to contemplate how utterly blessed he had been when a dark figure approached the door.
“Yes what is it?” he asked. A small maid had entered the room. Her face was red and splotchy, her hair a mess.
“You have someone wanting to see you, my lord.”
“Who?” He asked looking back at his desk.
“Well my lord, it’s, it’s…” The color on her face seemed to heighten with each word.
“Oh, I’ll introduce myself, thank you….” A deep voice came from the hall.
It couldn’t be.
Impossible. He had been in France for two years.
Before his thoughts could get any further he looked up at the doorway.
“Sebastian St. James, Duke of Tempest, at your service.” His old friend gave a low bow before continuing with, “I need your help.”
To be continued…
Also by Rachel Van Dyken
Oh no. This is not happening, not happening!
I wipe my hands over my pleated skirt, a nervous habit. Sweaty hands aren’t attractive, or so Brad Macintosh said when he held them during couple’s skate my seventh grade year.
It’s my first choir solo ever. Why couldn’t it be our fall concert instead of our Spring Spectacular? I feel ridiculous standing in front of the entire school with my mouth gaping open trying to find a middle C. Not to mention the fact that my mother, who is standing up in the front of the audience waving with video camera in hand, forced me to wear a pleated skirt. Thus the outfit is now screaming “uncool” on my lanky body.
Never am I this mean. But when I get nervous, I tend to snap at people. All week I’ve been at odds with my mom for taking pictures of me. She was literally documenting every day of my life up until the big solo or as she puts it, “my discovery!” Leave it to my mom to turn a junior high solo into the performance of a lifetime, which will not only get her daughter discovered, but will make her a best selling artist all before her eighteenth birthday. Somehow I don’t think MTV is going to be knocking on our door anytime soon for the professional footage my mom shot in order to do a “diary” on my life before I was famous.
Nervous and sweating, I begin my solo, praying I remember the words. When I finish, I felt like I’d run the fifty-yard dash the way my heart is hammering, but then I realize everyone is clapping. They’re all clapping for me. I did well!
In fact, people are beginning to stand up and clap. I actually feel famous, like I’m a pop star giving my first concert and people love me. THEY LOVE ME!
I bow and do a little curtsy just so they know I’m still humble then wave like Miss America all the way back to my seat with the rest of the choir. Blushing, I try to avoid eye contact with the rest of the choir as they whisper, “good job”. I look humble, but I’m actually soaring because of how proud I am. I actually did it! Now if only my mom would turn off that dang camera and sit down. My dad gives me a thumbs up, and oh yes, my mom is wiping a stray tear from her eye. Looking at them you’d assume I’ve never done anything exciting in my entire life.
****
Our choir director grabs the microphone and clears his throat. The entire audience falls silent like he’s the president of the United States about to make his State of the union address.