Free The Promise of Change by Rebecca Heflin

flamboyant Bohemian dress was in direct contrast to Lady Clara’s somewhat matronly style.
    Guy sipped his beer, making a face, while Sean and Mitch laughed, obviously at his expense. Sean and Mitch treated Guy like, well, one of the guys, regardless of his sexual orientation. It pleased Sarah to see the camaraderie among them.
    She overheard snippets of their conversation. Despite their reminders that Colin was a married heterosexual, Guy hadn’t given up hope.
    “If the handsome, rich Mr. Darcy can fall for a woman purportedly beneath his station then, Colin Firth can fall for a lovesick gay guy from the East End,” he said, taking another sip of his beer, shuddering this time as it went down.
    Their little group had become tight-knit in a short period of time. They ate all their meals together, and yesterday toured the other Oxford colleges, between the compulsory stops to the city’s oldest and most renowned pubs. On Friday, weather permitting, they planned to have a picnic in the Master’s Garden, their own private goodbye.
    Sean squeezed between Sarah and Kim, trying to commandeer Kim’s attention, but she continued her banter with the bartender. Hoping to distract Sean, Sarah asked, “Your love of literature notwithstanding, what made you pick up Jane Austen?”
    “I’ve read all the great male writers, James Joyce, Henry James, Trollope, so I thought it was time to see what the Jane Austen craze was all about. All the women I know go all dreamy when they talk of her novels.” He wore a roguish expression as he continued. “I’m after thinking I could learn a thing or two.”
    Sarah laughed. “Are you sure it wasn’t just an excuse to meet women?”
    “Ah, Sarah, you’ve got me pegged,” he replied before a question from Kim captured his attention.
    Just then someone bumped into Sarah causing her to spill the beer she held to her lips. A sharp rebuke on her lips, she turned and looked into the warmest coffee-brown eyes she’d ever seen. The words froze on her tongue.
    “I beg your pardon.” He spoke in a refined British accent, a dimple forming at the corner of his mouth. When Sarah didn’t move to clean up the spill, he picked up a napkin and taking her hand, began the task himself.
    “Please, allow me. Although I’m afraid your hand will be rather sticky until you wash up with soap and water.”
    His hands were warm on hers as he gently wiped her wrist and hand.
    “I suppose if I’m holding your hand, I should at least introduce myself. I’m Alex Fraser.”
    She noticed his eyes crinkled around the corners when he smiled. Sarah still couldn’t find the function of speech.
    “Hey, Mick, hand me a clean damp cloth.” He spoke to the bartender who’d been the focus of Kim’s attention, and Sean’s ire.
    “And you are . . .” he asked, his brow lifted.
    “Oh, I’m Sarah, Sarah Edwards.”
    “Thanks, Mick,” he said, as he took the damp cloth and cleaned the remaining beer residue from her hand. “Well, Sarah, the least I can do is buy you another drink.” Before Sarah could protest, Alex turned back to Mick. “Mick, bring Sarah here another of what she was drinking.”
    “Sure, mate.” As Mick worked the tap, he asked Alex, “How’ve you been? Any new movies in the works?”
    “Thank you,” Sarah said, as she took the glass from Mick. She frowned. Was he an actor? A bit embarrassed, she wondered if she should recognize him.
    He smiled at Mick as he spoke. His charming British lilt carried the cadence of the British upper class, not unlike that of Prince William or Prince Harry, in a voice smooth as satin against silk.
    Dimples framed an engaging smile. Casually tousled, his dark wavy hair evoked thoughts of discarded clothes, rumpled bed sheets, and whispered promises. Sarah realized the bed she pictured in her juicy little imagination was hers. She looked down as he glanced at her, mortified at the direction of her thoughts.
    She risked another glance, and found his