He had left in just half an hour without another word.

Sarah Jane was left alone at Kinsmen Place with her hired companions. Mathilda had appeared to be in good health later in the morning with no evidence of her illness that had befallen her the day before.

Sarah Jane embarked on a long walk to stretch her legs before following to London as well. Lord Killsworth had not mentioned how she was to prepare for her debut, but she suspected that there might be a woman waiting there to help her.

Entering the carriage with a wary glance at the compact cushions, she braced herself for the discomfort to follow their journey. She had traveled so much because of unfortunate passing-ons of the Lord Rosenbergs, but even now, as she found herself in Wiltshire, with quite a healthy and virile man, she was being transported again.

However this time, the transport was out of her own choice. It was thrilling.

Because of the Season, she would not be in the pleasurable sights of the countryside and must indulge in the high-nosed air of aristocrats of the ton in London. Sarah Jane mused that if ladies were as elegant as the countess of the 10th Earl Rosenberg, then London would not be a problem at all then, wouldn't it?

"Where are we to go in London," she asked no one in particular and motioned for the carriage door to be closed.

"Grosvenor Square, near the river Thames," Mathilda replied, waiting for a small girl to enter the coach.

"My lady, I am Winnifred, your lady's maid for your stay in London." She bowed from the steps and then climbed the cushions beside Mathilda. "I do hair well, miss."

"Pleasure," she murmured, eyeing the small girl's bright cheeks. "I shall sample your skills then. I am in want of a husband." Winnifred gave her a winning smile.

It was a very uneventful ride as not two words were heard from anyone during the trip. It took them a day and a half because of the change of wheels, a bit of time to rest and meals, as well as a change of clothes.

"I think we have arrived," Robinson quipped sensing that the carriage stopped moving.

"There might just be a carriage in front of us," Mathilda responded while she peered out the window.

There was a lighted doorstep. She hadn't noticed that it had already grown dark. She must have fallen asleep.

"No, I think we have arrived." It did bear repeating as no one had moved.

"Then we should go down at once," Sarah Jane insisted and started opening the door but was stopped by the flip of Mathilda's hand.

"What's the matter?"

"You must wait for the groomsmen, dear child. You are in London." She fastened the girl's hat on her head more securely, tucking the hair beneath her ears expertly.

Rolling her eyes, she listened for the footsteps outside. Counting in her mind, she reached fifteen before the door was opened.

"Thank god." She muttered under her breath.

She was welcomed by a butler, though his expression was less than welcoming. Although no one from her little group had brought a timepiece with them, she would have guessed from the tiresome expression of the butler that it was very late at night, indeed.

The trunks were carried almost as silent as a whisper inside the house as she was led to her bedchamber by the upstairs help. The butler bid her goodnight and that was that. It is uncomfortable how tightlipped and cold people were as a consequence of residing in London.

By morning, Killsworth received word from a messenger that his ward had finally arrived at Middleton house. His mother who permanently resided in the London estate must not have seen her yet, as the missive indicated that Sarah Jane arrived in the dead of the night.

He folded the missive on his desk and quickly requested for his valet, intending to give his mother and Sarah Jane a visit.

In the Middleton house, Sarah Jane woke from her deep slumber feeling absolutely horrid. Her throat was ablaze with pain, as her eyes began to sting with unshed tears. She experienced a gruesome combination of anxiety and discomfort from an aching body and a sore throat.

Her maid, Winnie, had woken her up early so that she may join the mistress of the home for breakfast. She would have liked to rest for a spell, really.

Coming down had been even more dreadful. Her head spun and her feet wobbled as it came in contact with the carpeted floor. Her fingers tightly gripped the intricately adorned railing as she steadied herself and waited for her sight to stop doubling.

How could she meet the mistress of the home in this state? Surely they would be mean to judge her in this condition.

Remembering that Killsworth might be present in the household, she hurriedly put herself into straights.

"The Lady Sarah Jane Riverton," a butler's voice boomed, as soon as she stepped at the landing of the staircase.

Her head whipped to the location of the butler and saw him under an arch. He wasn't looking at her so why would he have called her?

"Lady Sarah Jane would suffice, thank you." She then walked beside the butler under the arch and saw two ladies in the drawing room, very elegantly dressed.

"Good morning," she greeted with a rasp and blinked twice at what she saw. Sarah Jane could not distinguish who was more elegant, but the difference in beauty and age was apparent.

"I ah— well, that is to say..."

"We should have been introduced, but I was informed that your carriage was delayed last evening. I apologize for not having met you at your arrival, my condition does not permit me to wait upon ungodly hours, you see," the elegant lady said and nodded to an empty seat. "Please, do take a seat and join us."

"Thank you, my lady." She said to the pretty lady, cringing at the thought of having called her the title without even knowing who she was. She might have been a duchess or a mere miss.

Sarah Jane hid her grimace and slowly walked to the empty cushion.

The older lady with a big feathered hat cleared her throat. "I say, are you the relation of the Earl Rosenberg of Cheshire?" She said, as she motioned the maid to pour tea for her.

"Yes, I am," she supplied, eyeing the milk poured into the elderly lady's tea. It looked far thinner than what she was accustomed to.

"How old are you," A raspy voice inquired after inspecting her from head to toe.

Sarah Jane wasn't dressed in formal attire; it wasn't an evening dinner after all.

"I am one and twenty." Graciously taking her tea to soothe her aching throat.

When she gets her courage back, she shall ask who her hostesses are. Why she was sent here, she hadn't the slightest clue aside from the fact that they were elegant ladies who might be a good example for her to mimic.

Just then, the butler walked into the room. "The Lord Killsworth."

"Ah, here he comes. I thought he might never wake." The prettier and much younger woman commented with a slightly irritated expression on her face.

"Sarah Jane, I am delighted to see you," he said with a bow and sauntered across to kiss the elegant lady's cheek. "And mother, you as well."

"You are late."

To that, his answer was a long-stretched smile.

"I have been slighted yet again," The older lady complained and brought her cane to her lap.

"Ah, Lady Huntington, I assure you that I had esteemed to save the best for last." He came to kiss her hand. "Good morning to you."

Embarrassed, she flipped her hand off. "Oh, you scoundrel! Off with you."

He took his place in the empty seat beside Lady Sarah Jane and took a large gulp of tea. "I see that you have met."

"We haven't been formally introduced." Sarah Jane winced, as she remembered that she used this exact phrase for a vase in Kinsmen Place.

Noting her discomfort, Anthony decided not to press it further. "Yes, Barnaby has said as much." He adjusted himself in his seat and took a cup from the serving tray.

"Lady Sarah Jane, this is my mother, the Viscountess, Lady Killsworth, and her most-esteemed cousin-in-law, the dowager countess Lady Huntington, my aunt." He took another sip of the tea. "This is Lady Sarah Jane, the ward of an Earl Rosenberg." He left just enough of vagueness to tease his mother further.

"Have you met with Mr. Collins?" Sarah Jane inquired as it was pertinent to know if everything is in order. Was he still Killsworth? Or shall she refer to him as Rosenberg now?

"Yes, but only briefly. He's taking care of the matters mentioned previously, nothing terribly exciting." He announced matter-of-factly and turned the discussion to her. "I trust that the voyage to London has been good to you?"

She nodded.

"Good, good. Ah, Sarah Jane. It is always a pleasure to have you in my company." He took a biscuit to his mouth.

"I have noticed that you call her by name, have you been given leave to do so?" His mother thoughtfully inquired behind a cup. There was more meaning to the question and he hoped that Sarah Jane would be too much of an innocent to notice.

"I believe so, yes."

"And have you been given leave as well, Lady Sarah Jane?" She inquired a touch too polite and sweet for his liking.

"I give everyone leave to call me Sarah Jane, present company included, your ladyship." She smiled and poured herself another cup. "But Lord Killsworth has given me leave," and added, "although I think I shouldn't anymore."

"Wise of you," Anthony murmured.

The older lady harrumphed. "Of course you shouldn't! That would be highly improper under the circumstances. Unless he was your brother, and he certainly is not, which means all kinds of gossip pertaining to your courtship will be heard, even if there is none!" She then took a biscuit from the plate. It is amazing how a woman of her age could say all those words in one breath.

Anthony cleared his throat. "You see, Lady Sarah Jane, London is very different from the countryside. I am very ill-mannered to be your guide to this, which is why I have asked my mother and the most elegant Lady Huntington to take you under their wings for close inspection and supervision for the Season. What do you say?"

"She hasn't any say in the matter for we have already discussed it!" Lady Huntington insisted, her color heightening from the excitement. "Besides, we haven't got anything better to do."

"I am delighted to hear it." Anthony smiled, his brows raising expectantly at his mother.

Forced in a corner as it may be, Sarah Jane could find no objection as ladies of the ton, especially these two, had capabilities to find her a match were unmistakable. It is certainly more helpful than what Lord Killsworth could ever give her.

The entire day was spent with Lady Killsworth's seamstress. It semmed that both ladies found Sarah Jane's wardrobe lacking and unfashionable in current standards.

Not less than 3 times did Lady Huntington remark that Sarah Jane ought to lose some weight lest she be unsuccessful in her first year as a debutante. And unsuccessful she will be not, for Lady Huntington prized herself for marrying off the worst of rakes, four of her sons, to titled and gently-bred ladies. Although, why Lady Huntington had failed to tell her if they had been married for love or for political advances, she would never be privy to know.

"You shan't want for connections," Lady Huntington barked. "We'll tell everyone that you are an Earl's relation and you shan't make a fuss about it or they will wonder if we lie."

"But we do not lie." She raised her brows. It was true. She was really an Earl's relation, he was her father—the real Earl Rosenberg, in her opinion—who had brought her in this situation.

"What do you mean by 'we don't'? Of course, we will lie! A big lie or a small lie, that doesn't matter as no one ever tells the truth. This is polite society and everyone lies all the time." She huffed indignantly. "Don't you dare correct a woman in my age, or you shall be drawn and quartered! Drawn and quartered, I say!"

But how would she know whom to correct and who not to?

She smiled. "And what age shall we draw the line?"

The elderly lady gasped, and god bless her, she cackled with laughter. "Don't you dare ask that as well!" She turned to the other lady with raised brows. "I think we have our work cut out for us, eh?" she poked Lady Killsworth in the ribs and thumped her cane.

"Simply put, Lady Sarah Jane, you do not contradict anyone in a ballroom." Lady Killsworth sighed as she rubbed the sore spot where the elder lady poked her.

"Only in a ballroom, then?"

The elderly lady burst out laughing thumping more than 5 times on the table, sending all the pins flying to the floor. "I knew she would say that. I just knew she would open her mouth and say that!" She eyed the maid who ran to pick up the pins from the carpet and poked Lady Killsworth with her cane. "Didn't I say she would do the very thing that ancient crones would hate the most?"

Lady Killsworth hissed to keep their voices low, they were in a public place after all.

"Are you always this impertinent?" The question directed at Sarah Jane seemed to almost be directed at Lady Huntington as well.

Cringing while she chose between two remarkably off-colored hats, Lady Killsworth added, "do not answer that, I beg of you."

With a pout, Sarah Jane looked away from the seamstress and to the windows that lined the store. The town was grand and she could not explore without so much as a maid trailing behind her. What was the point of being in London if you were not able to see London?

"The heavens above had sent this creature to vex you, my dear," Lady Huntington snickered and tapped Lady Killsworth on the arm with her fan. "This is the most fun I've had for years!"

"I am not trying to be vexing." Sarah Jane sighed and looked down on the petticoat she was asked to hold on her waist. "I am in my best behavior, really. Anthony had found me to be much less agreeable than this at Kinsmen Place."

Lady Killsworth blinked at her revelation. "Pray tell, how long were you two left alone at Kinsmen Place?"

"Enough for talk I am sure. Mind the use of name, my dear," The old lady moved to the side as the maids brought stools to start fitting hats. "This wit of yours is funny, little miss. But scandal, now that shall be another story, one which you'll be safe not to explore. Heaven knows this family has had enough of it."

When Sarah Jane didn't answer, Lady Killsworth pressed, "How long?"

"Just 2 days at most. I had a chaperone, Mathilda was there with me all the time."

"A lot can happen in 2 days." Lady Huntington laughed crassly, but Lady Killsworth chose to ignore her.

"A matronly chaperone from service may be enough for the country, but you'll do well to remember that this is not the country. Mrs. Robinson is married to your butler, and that doesn't make her a suitable chaperone."

Lady Killsworth shook her head while she placed the hats back to the display. "We shall not speak of this episode with anyone, do you understand? If there is something I detest more than gossip mongers, that is to be the topic of such gossip. Anything that talks of you being Killsworth's ward will bring questions, and questions will bring speculation, and out of speculation comes nothing good."

There was something about Lady Killsworth's grave tone that unsettled Sarah Jane.

She stood like a statue as two seamstresses pinned her down with different cloths, and allowed a maid shaking over a stool to adjust a hideous fluttery thing atop her head.

The dowager stared her down, looking every bit as grave as Lady Killsworth. There was no courage to be borrowed from Napoleon to argue.

"Yes, my lady," she acquiesced as softly as possible.

Coming home from the exhausting shopping trip, the footmen in their distinguished livery had struggled to bring all the boxes of newly bought items into the house and up to Lady Sarah Jane's room. Multiple footsteps echoed through the hall, rousing Anthony from his docile state in his study.

He had been scribbling responses to all the unanswered correspondences that piled in the year and a half of his absence. He had not notified anyone of his plan to whisk away to Kinsmen Place, and to be honest, he hadn't planned anything at all.

The following night after that incident, he had simply taken his horse and had ridden home in a mad chase. His friends, the ones who had remained true at his side, had written their concerns about his sudden absence and inquired about his health. But they had sent the letters in Middleton house when he was long gone in Kinsmen Place.

It was only a few weeks ago that a few of his concerned friends had thought to write him in Wiltshire. All of which, also remained to be unanswered.

The afternoon back in London was filled with many unsavory realizations for Anthony.

One, his sister had written to inform him of the terrible news of her second miscarriage. Anthony feared that his concerned response to his sister might not be timely in its arrival. His letter was already a few months delayed, and since his sister was tucked away in Northumberland, his letter would arrive in another week or in a fortnight's time.

A few letters had informed him of various events that he had missed. But most of what troubled him was the letters from his estate manager. They were unopened for several months, and he had brought them with him from Wiltshire upon discovering them in heaps under the letter from Mr. Collins.

The Killsworth name was not by any means a pauper, but they weren't wealthy enough to be able to spend their days in boredom. This year's cotton harvest sent their finances unusually low, not that Anthony would ever mention this to his mother. This was his responsibility, and he had been silently suffering. It had rendered his mental and physical faculties unable to do any work while he had been in Wiltshire.

The demand for cotton was high, but their fields could not seem to supply it. He would need to confer with some of his friends to ask for help, and he very much hated to do that.

To cover for the lost finances, Anthony terminated his lease for bachelor's lodgings and transferred his possessions back to their Grosvenor townhome. He has yet to inform his mother of this, and he wasn't entirely sure that it would be received well, especially as Sarah Jane was now in residence.

A loud thud echoed the hall, and men grunted as they lifted yet another trunk towards the private rooms. Grabbing his coat, Anthony decided to take a break from writing lengthy correspondences. The heavy footfalls echoing the halls meant that his mother had arrived with Sarah Jane, and he would like to inquire about their trip.

As he exited through the hall, one footman followed another, carrying towers of boxes upstairs. He quickly snaked his way through them and managed to catch up with the women in the drawing room.

"Mother, have you decided that you missed me so much that you must squander away our fortune by shopping?" He asked with a smile, as he eyed his mother removing her gloves.

"Your ward had two gloves," she replied succinctly. "Two gloves!" She moved to the chaise and started to rest her head. "I struggle to think where she was raised. Wasn't she an Earl's daughter?"

"She was raised by a pack of wolves." He smiled and poured himself a glass of brandy. Their finances could handle a bit of shopping. Sarah Jane was to have a Season so he need not marry her, he reminded himself.

Sarah Jane glared at him, her cheeks reddening from a mixture of embarrassment and outrage. If he was surprised at the satisfaction swirling in his belly from seeing color rising to her cheeks, he made no indication.

His mother lifted her head enough to see her son's ludicrous smile. "Impossible," she muttered and softly laid back on the chaise with a gentle shake of her head.

"I jest." He sipped his brandy, relishing the way the amber liquid burned his throat and asked Sarah Jane if she had a nice trip to town.

She nodded mutely, still bristling from his last comment about the wolves, and daintily positioned herself on a settee near his mother.

Anthony quirked a brow. Surely something was amiss.

He cajoled her again, but received nothing more than barely a whisper of "I believe so." Anthony knew better than to believe that Sarah Jane would settle for a simple nod and pleasantries. She was a girl who possessed more opinions than a news column, and she never backed down from a chance to argue and bicker and spar with him.

"Why doesn't she speak?" Because certainly, this behavior is unknown to him.

Lady Killsworth shot a small sideways glance at the lady in question. "She must be tired, don't poke at her so."

"Poke? I'm not poking anyone, at least not yet." He looked around. "Speaking of poking, where is Lady Huntington?"

"Her grandchild had sent for her. I believe she is wanted for some tea with dolls."

He took another warm sip of the alcohol, warming his belly. "Ah, a surprising endeavor for the old wretch."

"Anthony!" His mother admonished.

"Again, I jest." He looked at Sarah Jane straight in the eye. "Not a word?"

Sarah Jane shot him a look. Not even a giggle?

"Really, I can't imagine you mute. Is something wrong with your throat?"

She gritted her teeth. Actually, there was something wrong with her throat, thank you very much.

"Mother, you must have been shopping in the dusty part of London." He clucked his tongue showing his affable distaste.

Lady Killsworth sighed. "My dear boy, you do have a penchant to be quite annoying."

"Charmingly annoying enough for your taste, surely," he returned, quickly putting his mother's comment aside. "But certainly this is a transformation. I am sure to be curious about your health, my lady, if you cannot speak?"

Sarah Jane ground her teeth together, narrowing her eyes as she said "I am tired, Anthony." in one heavy breath as if to say 'don't you see?'

Lady Killsworth cleared her throat. "If you are tired, you may excuse yourself." She said gently.

"I beg pardon," she responded immediately, as her eyes shifted to the lady resting her head then back to Anthony. Lowering her eyes and carefully adjusting her tone she rephrased her last statement. "I am merely tired from the day's activities, my lord. I shall want to rest my throat for the rest of the evening."

Anthony blinked rapidly at her change of demeanor.

Impressed, he nodded as if understanding her curious behavior. "Much improvement from a mere day with you, mother. I say, is that the reason why you why feel faint?"

Lady Killsworth rolled her eyes and allowed one of her hands to rest atop her forehead.

All remaining pleasantness drifted from Sarah Jane's face and she resumed scowling.

Anthony couldn't resist teasing her any more than he could resist another glass of brandy. He faced his mother gamely. "Shall I send for a physician to reside with us, in case this feeling becomes permanent?"

Sarah Jane stood and started to walk to the door.

Lady Killsworth cleared her throat, loudly.

"I beg pardon, again." She reluctantly faced the audience, gave a curt nod, and excused herself.

"Much better," Anthony snickered behind the protection of the brandy glass.

If his mother wasn't there, he was sure that Sarah Jane would have slit his neck with those furious eyes.

———
A/N: after writing this chapter, Lady Huntington was quickly becoming my favorite. I think I've combined all of the quirks present in every single aunt I have and gave all these lovely (and not so lovely) qualities to Lady Huntington. Does she remind you of someone you know?

Thank you for reading my work. It always gives me pleasure to find new readers and meet them or talk to them! I've spent hours dreaming of this story, hours researching so that it would be historically accurate, and hours writing it to the best of my abilities. Comments are highly appreciated so that I can improve further. If you've enjoyed yourself reading this, kindly consider giving it a vote so that it bumps up Wattpad's algorithm :) Thank you!!