Free If the Shoe Fits by Megan Mulry Page B

voice switched to a fairly good imitation of an American drawl. “All righty then! I’ll see ya when I see ya!” He gave her a little wave, like you would give a small child who had come down from the nursery and disturbed a grown-up dinner party. “Off you go!” He was about to burst out laughing again but was somehow able to hold it in.
    She came toward the bed, leaned down, and kissed him on the cheek, then pulled away slowly, trying to get one more inhale of the delicious sleepy smell of him. “You are really something, Lord Devon Heyworth. Take care,” she added with a curious smile, then left the room still shaking her head in tiny left-right motions.
    Devon flipped onto his back and spread out in the big warm bed with a huge smile across his face. “If that was just a fling, then I’m off my chump,” he muttered and then fell promptly back to sleep.
    ***
    A few minutes later, Sarah spotted Jane and Nelson in the conservatory downstairs having their breakfast. She made her way over to their table and sat down at one of the two empty seats.
    “Did you all have a pleasant evening?” she asked.
    Jane put down her coffee cup and widened her eyes in anticipation. “We did. We had a delightful dinner here at the hotel. But how was the wedding? Any star sightings?”
    “There were a few royal types, of course, but I didn’t really get too close. James Mowbray was there, so I got to talk to him about his business plan for their store opening in the States, and other—”
    “But were there any handsome rakes ? Any dashing viscounts or earls ?” Jane smiled. Nelson frowned and went back to reading his paper. Clearly, he had not shared with Jane his unintended intrusion into Sarah’s love life yesterday morning. The only silver lining of that debacle would have been Jane’s relief that, perhaps, Sarah was not destined to be a shriveled old maid after all.
    “Um, yes, there were quite a few. I danced the night away.” Sarah smiled at the waiter as he finished pouring her coffee; she added cream, then continued talking to her stepmother. “But, alas, back to my labors for this Cinderella.”
    “Oh, dear. You have so much ambition. You are so committed .” Jane meant well, or at least she did her best to appear to mean well, but Sarah couldn’t help feeling that her stepmother would have preferred a different sort of stepdaughter. Maybe one who spent long days at the spa. And even more hours than that at the gym. Neither of those things were ever going to happen.
    The one time that Sarah had attempted a “spa” vacation with Jane, it turned out to be a starvation and military boot camp falsely advertised as a wholesome, serene retreat in the mountains of central California. Instead of massages and mojitos, the menu included hot yoga and high colonics. Sarah ended up sneaking off the property for wine and chocolate to supplement the sprouts and leaves that were supposed to pass for food. She also brazenly slept through two of the “recommended” morning hikes, which Sarah referred to as forced marches. Not surprisingly, Jane did not find Sarah’s attempt at exercise humor in the least amusing. Exercise was not a laughing matter.
    “I do love my job.” Sarah smiled back, choosing to ignore the implied double meaning of committed . Obviously, Jane James would consider it psychotic to work sixteen hours a day when the proverbial coffers were already full to bursting. In that way (only), she was quite like Sarah’s grandmother, Letitia.
    Unfortunately, Jane was feeling particularly generous with her opinions this morning. “I know you love it, Sarah, but maybe you should take a little break. You are such a lovely girl, and with just a tiny bit of exercise and—”
    Nelson shook his newspaper; it could have been to straighten a page, or it could have been a precursor to saying something.
    Jane hesitated before continuing. “Well, maybe, I just thought if you ever want to meet with my trainer in Chicago