Lady Sarah's Secret

IXXXX. At Your Mercy

Henry Pembroke was not afraid. He was never afraid, anymore, he made a point to be so.

Yet as he stood waiting for Charles' in the London house library, Henry felt the unfamiliar feeling of fear creeping over him. He'd been fighting it all day in fact, perhaps even from the moment he'd received Charles' urgent request for his return to the Amesbury household.

He spent half his time insisting to himself that his fear was not because of Amelia, and the other half knowing that it was. Of course he feared for her, he would tell himself, what with Warwick on the loose and Amelia so often in Sarah's company, anything could happen. And how was he to prevent something from happening out in the woods of Northern England?

Then again, he couldn't be with her always, could not be with her at all, he knew that. So at some point, Henry reasoned against himself, something was going to happen to Amelia that he could not prevent. He disliked that conclusion most heartily and it was the least considered answer to his friend's request. He had left her, he had, but Charles' needed him, Sarah as well he supposed. Amelia's well being, presence, and safety had little to do with the speed with which he saddled his horse and left for London that morning. The door to the library opened before he had much more time to argue with himself.

"Henry!" Charles called his name before crossing the distance between them to embrace him, "I am glad you have come," he said and Henry detected true relief in his friend's voice.

"Sounds as if you needed some reinforcements," Henry stated jovially, as was his habit nowadays, "Wouldn't miss a war party for the world," he added with a grin for good measure and forced himself not to look behind Charles into the corridor to look for Amelia.

"Too right," Charles said with a shake of his head in dismay as he moved to sit in one of the leather chairs before the fire.

"Your letter said he approached her in the streets, have you any idea what he intended?" Henry asked.

"I have enough idea," Charles growled and clenched his hands together in front of himself, "He seemed to think that Sarah was not my wife and that he could still succeed in claiming her inheritance through marriage."

"Ah," Henry drew out the syllable, "So he wants your wife? Sounds like a terrible bargain, Sarah is so very entertaining," he added with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Sarah was more than entertaining, she was downright infuriating, always had been, little chit. She'd called him a coward and a liar the last time they'd met, had she been a man Henry would've called her out. As it was, she was married to his dearest friend, and was the dearest friend to the woman he loved. And once given some time to sort his thoughts, Henry knew she'd only done for Amelia what he himself would've done in defense of Charles, it seemed hardly fair to fault her for that. Though his conscience stung with the recollection of his words, so did his pride at her out-and-out set down.

"She is much more, you know this," Charles answered in a softened tone that Henry had not heard in a very good many years, and it set him off track yet again. Would anyone in this house ever make sense now that the world had upheavaled?

"Of course I know that, Charles," Henry joked in return, "Why do you think I mounted my trusty steed and rode to break my neck upon receiving your letter?"

"Such a high regard for Lady Amesbury is quite noble of you, Henry," Charles smirked at him, "But the lady herself would have me bar you from the house."

"Am I to take it you have chosen my side in things then, since I stand in your library?" Henry retorted, though he doubted very much that Sarah had told Charles just how cruel he had been that day in the conservatory.