Sarah arrived at the study exhausted, Mrs. Green had assigned Sarah and Lottie to cleaning the fireplaces that morning while the guests were otherwise entertained by the hunt. Sarah imagined she must look a fright, but she'd been anxious to see Charles and had not bothered to stop and clean up.

The silence of the study enveloped her as it did each time she arrived, but this time the room was empty, there was no fire crackling and the room had gone cold. Wishing she'd thought to bring a shawl Sarah set to building a fire, wondering if the hunting party would be returning soon.

She moved to the window where a gloomy and gray sky could be seen and shivered. Warwick's visit that morning had unsettled her, and the thought of what would've happened had he seen her kept returning to worry her though the man was already gone.

Only a few more months, Sarah repeated to herself, just two and a half months until her twenty first birthday and she could be free. She'd buy a house, perhaps one in Town so that she could visit the theater and the museums and be among people. Sarah rubbed a hand at her tired eyes, how she missed the life of a gentleman's daughter. She missed the feel of satin gowns and bubble baths.

She would not marry, she was quite determined on that one fact. She would never fall victim to a fortune hunter such a Warwick again. No, better to die and old maid than to be trapped in such a union.

She had wanted to marry Charles once, a small corner of her heart reminded her. She'd been madly in love with him since childhood, but 'what do little girls know of love?' His mocking tone reverberating through her memory. 'Nothing', Sarah could almost hear his voice now, 'you will know better when you are grown up – but Richard will marry you then'. Charles Amesbury had been perfectly clear all those years ago, Sarah was the last person he would bind himself to, that Richard must marry her instead.

"And where is Richard now?" Sarah heard herself whisper aloud to the empty room, her breath leaving a fog on the cold window pane.

It did not matter anymore, it did not. Charles was just as unreachable now as he ever had been, maybe more so now after his time at war. She hardly knew him most of the time. But she knew he was there, the boy she'd loved, the kind and thoughtful second son. Still never to be hers.

Sarah shook herself and growled in disgust as she wiped several tears from her face. It did no good to think on it now, turning back from the wall of windows she wondered again when Charles would return. Not because she was desperate to see him of course, no. Because she did not want to return to the swell just outside the Study door, and no one would dare enter here to look for her. Sarah ran a hand over a few books on the shelf to her left, landing on a book of poetry, one written entirely in English, she smiled to herself. Taking it with her she returned to the fire and gave it another stir. A tapping on the windows behind her drew her attention, it had begun to downpour. They would return soon, she reassured herself as she curled into the large chair and opened the book of poetry. He would return soon, she repeated to herself, he would need her to stay and read, she reasoned silently as her tired eyes scanned the first page of poetry.