He would stay away from her. And let that goddamned bloody vicar have her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
The end of May had arrived and people were eager for the charity fair. Children’s activities and performances were arranged for during the day and the evening had a traveling theater troupe performing for the adults, followed by bonfires and feasting and dancing. It was a yearly event that the Ladies Auxiliary for the Betterment of Widows, Orphans and Other Unfortunates held to raise funds for said unfortunates, and Claire and Sara had helped by organizing the children’s performance for their parents and other adults in the town.
Sara now stood several feet away from the dancing floor, watching her friends laugh and twirl, smiling at how much they were enjoying themselves. Claire and Louisa never lacked for partners, much to Jacob’s dismay. He consoled himself by frequently claiming a husband’s privilege to dance with his wife; if they had been in London, it would be a scandal. Sara thought he didn’t mind this particular adjustment to country life.
Bonfires and torches lit the area, fighting off the chill of the spring night. More than one couple disappeared into the darkness, Sara noted. Mr. Pomeroy, recently returned from Ramsey Gate, had shared supper with them, but excused himself soon after, explaining that there are some things the vicar should not be a witness too; it was much easier to discuss it with repentant souls when you were not a participant, he declared with a rueful smile.
Tugging her shawl around her shoulders, she smiled at passing revelers. People greeted her and called out congratulatory comments for the successful children’s pantomime, at which she blushed with pleasure. No one stopped, however, to speak with her at length, and no one asked her to dance, aside from Jacob. She could not refuse her friend’s husband, but winced with embarrassment with every misstep and crunch of his toes. Jacob was kind enough not to comment and even asked her again later, but she preferred to stand on the sides, away from the more crowded areas, and watch her friends enjoy themselves.
Sara glanced over at the food table, constantly refilled by volunteers, her gaze lingering particularly on the pasties and sweets. Supper had been just before sunset and her stomach was beginning to grumble again. Surely a pasty or two wouldn’t hurt, she thought. Claire and I worked hard with the children, so perhaps I deserve a treat. Thinking more on it, her mouth began to water with the thought of the crescent-shaped delight.
She continued to convince herself of the merits of eating a pasty this late at night, her eyes roving over the dancers again. The music had ended and everyone was applauding while preparing for the next set. Sara smiled when she saw Jacob whisper something in Claire’s ear and her responding laugh and gentle touch to his arm. Louisa had left the floor with some ladies Sara recognized from church and was quenching her thirst at the lemonade table. As she watched, a young man Sara didn’t know approached her friend and spoke to her, gesturing to the dance floor. Louisa stiffened when he first spoke, but after a lengthy perusal of the man and some questions, gave her assent and allowed him to lead her onto the floor.
The couples were lining up, giving Sara a clear view across the floor. It was then she saw him, Mr. Grant, and her breath caught in her throat.
He was standing directly opposite her, his gaze intent as he met her eyes. With his black clothes, he blended into the darkness, the bonfires trying to illuminate him with little success. They had not encountered each other since that day in the shop; although she had seen him lurking around the fair, he had not approached her, despite their gazes meeting several times.
She had come to expect the intensity with which he looked at her; it both confused and thrilled her. Since the shop, she now knew that his look meant he desired her. Mr. Pomeroy didn’t look at her like that; if he did, she was unsure if it would have the same effect on her as Mr. Grant’s gaze did.
The man wielded power with his gaze and he was difficult to fight.
But she must continue to try.
As she watched, he pivoted on his heel and walked around the dance floor, his gaze leaving hers only for moments at a time. His intent was clear; he was coming to speak with her, possibly even ask her to dance. Despite the usual dismay at that prospect, Sara’s breathing hitched again with nervous excitement and her mind raced with what to say to him. She must make her position clear. She was not inclined toward his pursuit and did not appreciate his inappropriate attentions. The nervous excitement pulsed in her chest, putting lie to her thoughts.