Sarah smiled a knowing smile. "Of course."
"How long?"
"Whenever I could slip away from the rectory," she answered. "And I would stay as long as I could. Usually until Aunt Etta called me to supper."
"No." Jarrod shook his head. "I mean, how long? How many years?"
"For always."
"Recently?" Jarrod asked. "Or just when we were children?"
"You haven't been to Shepherdston Hall recently," she reminded him. "You've stayed in London. There used to be a flurry of activity around it, with riders going in and out, but that was only when you, or Lord Grantham, were in residence," she said. "There hasn't been as much activity lately, but I suppose that's because there hasn't been anyone in residence at the hall since Lord and Lady Grantham honeymooned there."
"You didn't!"
"Of course not," she protested. "I would never spy on a honeymooning couple." Unless it was Jarrod and a bride other than me! "I heard someone
was staying at the hall and I asked Papa who it was. He told me it was your friend Lord Grantham and his bride." She smiled up at him. "It was nice of you to lend Grantham your house for a honeymoon. I always imagined it would be a nice place for one." Smiling, Sarah closed her eyes and allowed herself to dream once again as Jarrod whirled her around the ballroom.
"Really?" He arched his eyebrow once again.
"Yes."
"I suppose you could ask Lady Grantham if that is the case," Jarrod ventured.
"I suppose I could ask her," she said, opening her eyes to look at him. "But that won't be nearly as fun as marrying you and finding out for myself."
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Six
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As true as I live.
— Thomas Middleton, 1580-1627
He looked stunned. Trapped like a fox in the hole. Terrified that his life was about to come to an end.
"I thought you didn't want to marry. I thought you had your heart set on being a courtesan." Jarrod pinned her with a look.
"Why?" she asked, finally understanding what Aunt Etta had been trying to tell her about the anguish of loving someone who didn't love you in return. "Are you about to take me up on the offer?"
"I distinctly remember you telling me that I would make a good lover, but that I was hardly husband material."
"I lied," Sarah said simply.
"Why?"
"Because I love you, Jarrod."
He froze. "You say you love me, yet you admit to lying to me?"
"Yes," she said. "And I would do it again if I had to in order to give you what you want."
He frowned. "I don't understand."
"No, you don't," she answered. "And the sad part of it is that you may never understand. Loving isn't all taking, Jarrod. Sometimes it's giving."