However, he could not, in good conscience, ignore Sarah’s existence. So each day, he’d face the Archer’s disapproval and visit their townhouse to inform his client of his progress. But as the days passed, and Sarah grew into her role as a lady, their meetings grew ever more painful. In a sense, she reminded him of a loose tooth he’d had as a child. It hurt when he touched it, but he couldn’t resist toying with it. When it finally fell out, the gaping hole had bled so copiously that it ruined his favorite jacket. Apparently, he had not learned that lesson as well as he should have. And once more, William was knocking on the Archer’s door. “Here again?” Mr. Archer asked when the butler led William into the sitting room. He nodded, his restless gaze searching for Sarah. She sat on a window seat with her aunt, industriously trying to embroider some long, white piece of linen.
