The Promise of Change

Chapter 14



“You’re late.”

“My apologies, Grandmother, but I had a late meeting in London.” Robert Fraser bussed his grandmother’s cheek before taking a seat at the table in a small parlor reserved for intimate family meals. He shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap, while the footman filled his wineglass. “Some of us do have schedules to keep.”

Alex ignored his brother’s dig. “Good evening to you, too, Robert. So good to see you.” Alex’s mouth turned up into a sardonic smile.

“Boys, do try to behave, at least through dinner,” Lady Clara admonished.

“Have you seen the latest tabloid articles? Here, let me oblige you.” Robert rose from his seat and walked to his briefcase, pulling out a newspaper, before sticking it beneath Alex’s nose.

“I try not to read those rags. I suggest you do the same. They really are a waste of your money.” Taking the paper, Alex tossed it on the table.

“My secretary feels an overwhelming need to keep me informed,” Robert said, taking a bite of his fish.

“You should be happy. My relationship with Clarice is over. No more potential for tainting the Sutherland bloodlines with a Lib-Dem.”

His brief relationship with the Prime Minister’s daughter had ended, much to his brother’s relief. Of course, if her father had been from the right side of the aisle, quite literally, Robert would likely have encouraged the relationship. The rags were having a heyday with the story of their ‘break-up,’ prompting Alex to take an unplanned holiday in Oxford.

The morning he and Sarah went to Stonehenge, he’d told her he’d run into an old friend, but actually, he’d run away from a tabloid reporter. Although the relationship had ended amicably, that didn’t prevent the tabloids from making up all manner of stories about their ‘tumultuous relationship.’

“What would make me happy is for you and your . . . girlfriends to stay out of the tabloids.”

“Do you think I go around waving my arms at tabloid photographers and reporters saying ‘please, write more rubbish about my life?’”

“Of course not. But your career choice and your penchant for high-profile women make you a favorite target.”

“Yes, Robert. You’d be much happier if I buried myself here on Rutherford and came out only for occasions of state.”

“Don’t be obtuse. Grandmother, may we take Brandy in the study?”

Lady Clara looked between her grandsons, “Whatever you like.”

“Yes, by all means, let’s get this family meeting underway. I have to be in London tonight for an early call tomorrow morning.”

“Your tailor?” Robert asked snidely.

“No, your advisors. They’re trying to determine how to make you more agreeable to voters.”

“Funny.”

The insults continued until they were settled in the study.

“Well, Robert. You called this meeting. Let’s have it.” Alex stood in front of the window overlooking his grandfather’s rose garden, his back to the room, a frown playing across his features.

After their father died, Alex and his mother had protected Robert. Sometimes to a fault. Alex tried to assume the role of father, but a lenient one. Robert had taken the death of their father especially hard, and bitterness in one so young was especially painful to observe.

When Robert took an interest in estate matters, Alex was only too happy to oblige. For one thing, it made Robert happy in a way he seldom was, and for another, it gave Alex time to pursue his own interests.

After Robert read for the law and took a position as a barrister in London, Alex had to assume the reins again, choosing to hire a manager to handle the day-to-day tasks of estate management.

Over the years, Robert had come to resent Alex’s hands-off approach. His brother felt he neglected his duties as Earl to pursue an acting career, which in his eyes was synonymous with playboy. It didn’t matter that the estate and all its interests were meeting, and in some cases, exceeding expectations. From vineyards to media companies, from shipping to publishing, the diverse portfolio greatly reduced the risk and provided a steady income to the estate.

“I’m planning to run for Prime Minister.”

Ah. There it was. The true reason for Robert’s disapproval of Alex’s life. His political ambitions.

Proud of her grandson, Lady Clara rose and kissed him soundly on the cheek. “That’s wonderful. Your father would be so proud.” But Alex knew her enthusiasm was tempered by the additional animosity she realized this course of action would inevitably cause between the brothers.

“And?” Alex turned to Robert.

“And, what?”

“We’ve known this was coming. This announcement is no great revelation. There must be more.” Alex poured himself another two fingers of Brandy, before tossing it back.

Damn, he thought, he wanted to be proud of his brother. He wanted to clap him on the back and congratulate him. Drink to his brother’s success instead of to steady his own temper. If Robert wasn’t so damned sanctimonious.

“Your career is a detriment to mine. I’d like to ask you again to reconsider. Take up full-time residence once more at Rutherford as the Earl.” Robert took a deep breath, and dragging his fingers through his hair, faced his bother. “And if not, I’m asking you to relinquish the title. To me.”

Alex heard his grandmother’s sharp intake of breath.

Before Alex could respond, Robert continued. “It would greatly help my chances, and you’ve never wanted it . . .” His voice trailed off.

“I am the Earl of Rutherford!” Alex’s booming actor’s voice resonated in the wood-paneled room.

“Then start behaving like it!”

“Fine. I’ll begin by asking you to leave. Now.” His voice subdued, he turned back to the window.

“You don’t mean that—”

“Yes. I do. Please leave.”

Lady Clara rose and quietly asked Robert to leave. She would call him later. “It is for the best,” she told him.

Alex waited a beat or two, until certain Robert had left. “Do you have concerns about the financial stability of the estate?” He didn’t turn to look at his grandmother.

“No.” Lady Clara walked up behind Alex and reached up to put her hands on his taut shoulders. “But Robert is right,” she said quietly. At Alex’s sharp look, she clarified, “Not about relinquishing your title. I will speak with him about that.”

“But you do have a duty to your family and to your title. Stop all this nonsense and direct your inimitable skills to sustaining our heritage . . . your heritage.”

Alex turned to look at his grandmother, his face grim. “Grandmother, you of all people should know the importance of following your dreams.”

“You’re right. I followed my dreams and married the love of my life, but I also did my duty and saved this estate from going to the highest bidder.”

She sighed. “I’m not going to tell you who you can marry, but find an agreeable woman, and if you’re madly in love with her, so much the better. Settle down.” A mischievous smile smoothed her knitted brow. “Sarah Edwards would make a lovely countess.”

“Grandmother,” Alex said, frowning.

“I like her. She’s got pluck. But she’s also attractive, bright, and personable.”

As if he needed to be reminded of her best qualities. He was all too aware of her superlatives, and many more than his grandmother enumerated. But he didn’t see how it would work. Why would she abandon her life in the U.S. only to be placed under a microscope by the British tabloids?

As if reading his mind, Lady Clara said, “Listen to me, my boy. You may be the Earl of Rutherford, but don’t think I won’t take you down a notch or two if you hurt her.” She patted his cheek just as she’d done when he was a child. “If you have no serious intentions towards her, then let her down easy, stop seeing her, and move on to your next flighty conquest.”

“Clarice was not flighty.” She was quite smart, in fact.

“No, but she doesn’t have the best reputation, either.”

That part was true enough.

“I know you mean well, but stay out of my love life.” He kissed her cheek before leaving.

Watching her grandson leave, Lady Clara sincerely hoped that her matchmaking scheme didn’t end with Sarah’s broken heart.



Sarah woke at first light. Again. She rolled onto her side and grabbed the pillow, hugging it to her. There were times . . . like now, when she was on vacation that she wished she could sleep in.

She sighed, closing her eyes and hoping sleep would overtake her. After lying there a half hour, she finally got up. Her disobedient mind would not settle down, especially where Alex was concerned.

Generally, she was happy in solitary pursuits, but last night and this morning she found herself anxious for his company. The thought of spending her day without him was daunting.

Luckily she had lunch with Lady Clara to look forward to.

After breakfast, she sent a text message to Ann and Becca to tell them she was enjoying herself, an understatement, and that she missed them, also an understatement. She, Ann, and Becca, saw one another at least weekly, and spoke almost daily. It was strange to only communicate by abbreviated text messages all this time.

On second thought, maybe it was better that way. She knew if she spoke to them by phone, she would never be able to keep Alex a secret.

Since she had some time before lunch with Lady Clara, she sat down at the desk with her travel journal and the beautiful fountain pen. She’d been somewhat faithful in keeping her promise to herself, if not writing each day, at least writing about each day.

She discovered enjoyment in the process of capturing her daily activities, recollections, thoughts, and fears.

Some days the entries were a sort of stream-of-consciousness exercise, where she wrote as fast as the thoughts entered her head; other days the entries were a travelogue, detailing the wonderful places she’d been, the memorable meals she’d eaten, and the history of the area. In some ways, those entries resembled a travel guide. Of course, her most recent entries included her interactions with Alex. Those resembled a lovesick teenager’s diary.



Lady Clara was already seated when she arrived at the cafe. She glanced up and smiled as Sarah approached.

“Am I late?” Sarah asked, concerned that she’d kept her waiting.

“No, my dear,” she replied, as she rose from her seat to take Sarah’s hands and kiss her cheek. “I arrived a little early to claim my favorite table.”

The table was located in a quiet corner of the restaurant, with only one other table nearby. Sarah sat down across from her as the waiter hurried over with menus. He greeted Lady Clara by name.

“Good afternoon, Richard,” she responded cheerfully.

As soon as the waiter left, Lady Clara leaned in conspiratorially and asked, “How is my grandson?”

Sarah blushed and murmured, “Fine,” looking down at her menu as if it was the most interesting thing she’d ever read.

“Come, come, my dear.” She sat back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “I can see by the blush that he is more than fine.”

Sarah sighed in exasperation. She knew the conversation would include a probing inquisition from Lady Clara, she just didn’t expect it before they’d even placed their lunch order.

“Okay,” she blurted out, “he’s charming, handsome, dashing, intelligent, witty . . . and a great tour guide, as you well know.” Following her outburst, she was a little embarrassed.

Lady Clara wore a self-satisfied expression. “I knew you two would hit it off. So, tell me, what adventures have the two of you undertaken?”

Before Sarah could respond, Richard returned to take their orders. Despite her attempts to use the menu as a subterfuge, she’d barely given it a glance, so she just ordered the same item as Lady Clara.

She then proceeded to give Lady Clara a synopsis of her visits with Alex to Stonehenge, Lacock, Castle Combe, the Cotswolds, Blenheim, and Woodstock, carefully leaving out the parts that involved kissing, foot massages, and other romantic activities.

“It sounds as if you two have been quite busy,” she responded innocently.

Why did she doubt that ingenuous expression? If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Lady Clara had some clandestine report of their activities, complete with compromising photos. She blushed again.

Lunch arrived, so they turned their attention to the meal.

“Alex told me that your late son purchased his clothing from his grandfather’s store in Leeds.”

“Yes. That is how my son met Alex’s mother. Every time he traveled to Leeds on business, he paid a visit to Mr. Sheffield’s shop.”

“I think my son fell just as hard, and just as unexpectedly in love with Emma, as I did with Jonathan.” She smiled. “Most people think love at first sight is a silly, romantic myth, but I know from experience that it’s quite real.”

“Alex told me that Robert is a barrister in London. Do you see him often?”

“Just last evening.” Lady Clara frowned. “He’s not pleased with Alex’s career choice.”

“Why not? Why should it matter what Alex does as long as he’s happy?”

“Robert has political aspirations. Next to the two royal princes, Alex is the most eligible bachelor in the Kingdom. And we both know that even the Royal Family can’t avoid the unflattering headlines, even if there isn’t any truth to the stories. Add acting to the mix, and Alex becomes ideal fodder for the tabloids.”

She remembered the edge to Alex’s voice yesterday when he mentioned his brother. “In the U.S., we elect our actors Governors and Presidents,” she shrugged.

“Yes,” Lady Clara said archly. Changing the subject, she asked, “Did Alex tell you about his mother, Emma?”

“Yes. He said she was quite the world-traveler, and often has a difficult time keeping track of her.” Sarah smiled as she remembered his fond stories of his mother.

“When will you see my grandson again?” Lady Clara asked.

Sarah laughed at Lady Clara’s transparent attempt to sound casual. “He’s picking me up at five. Although I don’t know what we’re doing. He said it was a surprise,” she continued with annoyance. “Which reminds me, I need to buy a dress, since the only one I brought I’ve already worn.”

“Alex always did love surprises,” Lady Clara smiled at some memory. “There is a lovely shop on Queen Street that sells fine ladies clothing suitable for a young woman like yourself. I’m sure you will find a charming selection. Besides, my dear, you could make a nun’s habit look like the Queen’s robes.”

Sarah blushed at her compliment.

After hesitating a moment, Lady Clara said, with an earnest expression, “For someone who puts on a nonchalant face when it comes to discussions of my grandson, you seem excited about your date tonight.”

Sarah stared down at her plate of food, and then looked back at Lady Clara. “I confess I am.” Her brow furrowed, as she tried to decide whether to confide in Lady Clara. She didn’t want to put her in an awkward position with her grandson. “Can I share something with you?”

“Of course, my dear,” she said reassuringly, reaching across the table to touch her hand.

“Since my divorce, I thought it would be a very long time before I would even consider dating. I’ve been asked out many times in the months following my divorce, but I’ve always said no. Alex is different. I haven’t felt this way about anyone, ever, and it scares the hell out of me,” Sarah finished with a wan smile.

Lady Clara squeezed Sarah’s hand.

“Having never been through a divorce, I cannot begin to know what that feels like. But, I do know this . . . when the right man comes into your life, it is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. The feelings of trust, respect, admiration, and intimacy are indescribable.”

She smiled with obvious fondly-recalled memories. “I know you will find this. You are too dear not to.” She hesitated again, adding, “Had Jonathan and I been blessed with girls, I would have wanted a daughter just like you.”

Sarah could only squeeze her hand in return, tears in her eyes. It was a touching ending to an already poignant lunch. This would likely be the last time she saw Lady Clara before returning to the U.S.

They exchanged their contact information, with promises that they would stay in touch. Sarah vowed this was not just an empty gesture, whatever might happen with Alex.

Once outside the restaurant, they hugged one last time then, true to her British roots, Lady Clara squared her shoulders and turned to walk up the street.

Sarah tried to follow her lead, turning to walk in the opposite direction.