Sarah's Duke: and Ellie's Gentleman (The heir and the spare, book 1) by Georgiana Louis Page A

emotion in them.
    “None of which I am aware.”
    “Oh, that is good.” Sarah said, putting on her sunniest smile.
    John and Charlotte shared a glance but didn’t say anything more, so Sarah rode the rest of the way happily, listening to idle chatter and hoping that she would be noticed by her husband-to-be, whoever he may be.
     
        When they arrived, they were personally escorted to their box by a footman and Sarah’s heart fluttered in her ribcage the whole way. She had never seen anything so grand or beautiful. The velvet curtains, the view of the stage, oh, that she had lived to see this day!
    “Oh my goodness,” she cried and rushed toward the edge to see the view properly. Sarah heard John chuckle softly beside her.
    “You shouldn’t get so close to the edge, Miss Collins,” he teased, putting one hand on her wrist and the other on her waist to draw her back to the safety of the first row of seats.
    “Please, call me Sarah. I don’t really like being called Miss Collins,” she told John, liking the attention he was giving her but safe in the knowledge that he wasn’t pursuing her in any way.
    John’s hand on her waist fell away, but he held onto her hand and raised it to his lips.
    “I would be delighted, Sarah.” He bent at the waist and chastely kissed her gloved knuckles making her smile. What a gentleman!
    A strangled sound in the entrance of the opera box had them both turning. Oliver stood in the entrance with a look on his face that made Sarah cower. He looked furious. John held tightly onto her fingers when she tried to withdraw them and drew her hand onto his arm.
    “Good evening, Oliver, have you come to join our small group?” John was obviously ignoring Oliver’s scowl and the tightening of his fists, but she certainly couldn’t.
    Sarah dug her fingers into John’s arm as the flutters of panic rose in her, but he stroked her fingers reassuringly. Oliver looked ready to murder someone. Why, she wasn’t quite sure, but she knew that look was focused on her and John. He couldn’t be jealous, could he?
    When he didn’t reply, Sarah gathered her courage and slipped her hand from John’s arm and dropped into her lowest curtsy.
    “Your Grace,” she said, coming up so slowly that Oliver had time to walk over to her and impatiently tap his black leather boot against the carpet, before her eyes came up to his.
    “You look well considering you have been ill for a week.”
    Charlotte gasped beside her and Sarah’s eyebrows rose. What sort of gentleman said something like that to a lady?
    “I apologize, Miss Collins, for my rudeness. I was just shocked to see you looking so well.”
    Sarah closed her gaping mouth and nodded slowly. Was she supposed to say something to that?
    Oliver ground his teeth together. “Well?”
    “Well?” she repeated with a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth. “Well, how are you here, looking so well?”
    Oliver’s eyes widened in surprise, then a muscle in his jaw jumped, indicating he was clenching his teeth again.
    “I wasn’t really sick your grace,” Sarah whispered in a conspirator tone.
    “No?” he whispered back, his face softening.
    “No, I was just having a week away from the circuit. I can see why you and your counterparts never attend balls,” she slid her eyes over to John to include him in the conversation. “They are just exhausting.” Sarah let out an exaggerated sigh and John chuckled.
    “Well, it seems that the rest did you good. You are glowing tonight.” said Oliver.
    Sarah frowned at him. What was he doing now? He’d come in to the box like a thundercloud, she’d chided him out of his bad mood and now he was complimenting her? The man appeared to be as changeable in moods as her capricious Aunt Eustacia. Her aunt was a character of extremes and Sarah sincerely hoped that this would not be the case with Oliver, as this would make him less than pleasant company in the long term.
    “Shall we sit down, my lord?”