Marriage with a Proper Stranger

by Karyn Gerrard

  “It’s George, my lady. Your presence is requested in the library.”

  Mary marched to the door and flung it open. “Who is in the library with the baron?” she demanded.

  The young footman jutted his chin in the air and did not answer.

  “Oh, stop being contrary, George. It doesn’t suit you,” Mary snapped. “Who is it?”

  “I recognize him, it’s the schoolmaster,” he muttered.

  Sabrina let out the breath she’d held. Not the marquess. Thank God. Smoothing her skirt, she walked toward the door. “Continue packing, Mary.” She followed George downstairs, her legs shaking the entire way. Crossing the threshold of the library, the tension hanging in the air was palatable. Her father faced the window, his fists at his sides. By his stance, she could tell he was angry. Sabrina slid her gaze to Riordan. He also looked furious.

  “We are leaving immediately. Mary as well. The bags should be brought down, I have a wagon outside,” Riordan said, his voice tight.

  George looked toward the baron, who kept his back to everyone. “My lord?”

  “Do it,” the baron barked.

  George scurried away, looking relieved to be departing.

  “Then we shall take our leave,” Riordan said in a clipped tone.

  “Good luck with her,” the baron stated coldly. “The late earl said she is a contrary, frigid hag who couldn’t even manage to give him an heir. She is spoiled, taciturn, and thoroughly unpleasant. I’m glad to be rid of her.”

  Sabrina gasped and covered her mouth in shock at her father’s hateful words.

  Riordan’s expression turned dangerous, and with three large strides he spun her father around until he stood toe-to-toe with the baron. “You are not to speak of your daughter in such a way ever again.” Riordan grabbed a fistful of the baron’s cravat. “Remember what I said. I will follow through, have no doubt.”

  The quick burst of violence from Riordan made her blood run cold with fear. Good heavens, he was no better than every other man in her life.

  As if sensing her distress, Riordan released the baron and moved to her side, gently clasping her elbow. “Come, Sabrina. We are departing.” He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t look back. Do not ever look back.”

  Biting her lip, she nodded. Strangely, tears clustered on her eyelashes. This part of her life was over. Her father would not even look at her or say goodbye. Fine, neither would she. With shoulders straight, she left the room, allowing Riordan to steer her toward the front door.

  The sky had cleared and the sun all but set. Pink clouds hovered across the horizon, showing proof tomorrow would be a glorious, sunny one. A new beginning. Though many questions formed in her mind, she knew if she put voice to them, she would begin to weep. Liberation. Freedom. She was on the path to achieve it, and it made her heart soar.

  He helped her up onto the bench seat, and she stiffened at his touch. “I will be escorting you and Mary to the inn, where you will stay until we can depart for London. The marquess has left town.”

  Riordan did it. Everything he’d promised. How could she ever repay him? Perhaps she should raise his share of the settlement to twenty-five percent. He deserved it. But now was not the time to broach the subject. His expression was thunderous, and peppering him with questions could annoy him further or lead him to believe she did not trust him. How surprising to find she did. Yet fear lingered.

  Shortly after Mary and George emerged, Riordan helped load the few pieces of luggage and assisted Mary into the rear of the wagon. With a quick, fluid movement, Riordan sat next to Sabrina on the bench. He snapped the reins and they were off. “I am sorry you witnessed my temper. You must never think I would turn it on you. I will never harm you. Believe it.”

  Oh, she wanted to believe him. “It is not easy for me to trust any man, but I will endeavor to do so with you,” she said.

  He gave her a quick glance and nodded. “Before I came here, I met with one of the board members and they granted me Friday afternoon. We will leave for London then,” Riordan said.

  “You must keep an account of the costs you’ve been incurring, postage, the inn, the loss of salary. I will reimburse you immediately, from the settlement.”

  Riordan did not reply. His expression was stony and hard to read.

  “There is a settlement?” she asked worriedly.

  He patted his pocket. “I have it all in hand.”

  He’d said that earlier. Did he have the signed contract in his pocket? Was that the reason he patted his coat? “Thank you, Riordan.” Her voice quivered with emotion.

  He clasped her gloved hand and kissed it. “It was my distinct honor.”

  Her insides fluttered. Be open to new emotions, Mary had said. Dare she allow it? No. She could not open her heart to this attractive, principled man. It was far safer to feel nothing at all. No chance of getting hurt. As she pulled her hand from his she took a deep breath. Exhaling, she marveled at the fact of how easy it was to breathe. She gazed at the road ahead. Her future lay open for this first time in her life. Sabrina couldn’t wait.

  * * * *

  Riordan made it to his cottage close to eight o’clock. Garrett immediately jumped from his chair and crossed his arms. “Right. You had better tell me all, Nephew.”

  Riordan removed his hat and wool muffler and hung them on the hook by the door. “May I eat first?”

  Garrett pointed to the table. “Sit. I’ll serve you, I’ve already eaten.”

  With a weary sigh, Riordan sank into the wooden chair. God. He had pulled it off. Reaching in his side coat pocket, he pulled out the form he’d made the baron sign before Sabrina came downstairs. It was an utterly useless endeavor and could not be enforced, for there was no payment at all. But if Sabrina asked for proof, he could show her the fake paper. Lying made his insides roll with nausea. But she had been through enough, why add to her misery?

  After settling Sabrina and Mary at the inn, he decided on his way home he would instruct William to use ten thousand pounds of his inheritance and pass it off as the dowry settlement. In reality, he should come clean, tell her the truth, and give her the money outright with no marriage needed, temporary or not. But he knew enough about her to surmise she would not accept the money as a gift, or even a loan. She was as stubborn as he.

  He wanted to protect her and give her the chance to start a new life. Most of all, he wanted to erase the look of fear that haunted her beautiful eyes—his rare flash of temper had not helped matters. Cursing inwardly, he admonished himself for allowing the baron to bait him.

  Deep down he knew that he cared about her, about what would happen to her. The transitory marriage would give him time to convince her to accept the money. Or perhaps he wanted to know her better, see if the sparks of attraction crackling between them could lead to something more…permanent. Yes, he was seriously considering this option.

  It would be challenging. Sabrina Durning Lakeside had tucked her heart away years ago in order to protect it. He may not be able to find her heart and breathe new life into it. Every touch of her skin inflamed his passion to greater heights. How deluded he had been to think progressive causes alone would stir him. Never did he realize an emotionally closed off widow would make him feel more alive than…anything.

  Garrett set the bowl of stew in front of him, along with a small plate of bread, then sat opposite. “Well? Do I have to drag it out of you, Nephew?”

  Slipping the folded paper into his coat pocket, he gave his uncle a sly smile. “I agreed to assist Sabrina in extricating herself from an unwanted marriage to an abhorrent marquess, and at the same time rescue her from the clutches of her greedy, detestable father.” He shrugged as he sprinkled pepper on the beef stew. “Mission accomplished.”

  Garrett reclined in his chair, regarding him. “There is no money. The marquess was to pay the baron for his daughter. Completely repugn
ant and illegal, I agree. But what is the widow to use for money? How will she live? I assume she is penniless. How do you factor into this, besides being her knight?”

  Riordan didn’t want to lie, as he would be doing enough of it in the next three months. “I am going to marry her.” He shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth.

  Garrett jumped to his feet. “Have you gone mad?” he cried. His uncle started to pace.

  “Temporary only. We will seek an annulment in three months. She will receive the money when the marriage is dissolved.”

  Garrett stopped pacing. “What money?”

  “The money I’m going to give her.” He explained the situation as his uncle slowly slumped into his chair, his expression incredulous. By the time Riordan finished the stew, he’d concluded his narrative.

  To his surprise, Garrett laughed, but soon sobered. “You’re deluding yourself if you believe you can stay detached from a young, nubile widow in this tiny cottage. I assume she’s attractive?” Riordan nodded. “Have you heard nothing I have told you the past several years? Women are poison. They infect your heart and soul, then leave you all alone. The curse is real.”

  Riordan scoffed. “Jesus, Garrett. Not the curse again. I cannot believe you take that fairy tale seriously.” Though he had to admit: he half believed in it himself.

  His uncle’s expression turned dark. “Have you been to the graveyard? My mother, Julian’s mother, my half sister, and all the women who came before. The old earl, my grandfather and your great-grandfather, buried two wives. And his father before him buried three. Shall I continue? I can recite all the way to the beginning of the seventeenth century if you require proof. It is real.” Garrett exhaled and ran his hands through his long hair. “Never mind the legal ramifications of what you’re doing. It smacks of fraud, and it’s not worthy of you no matter how earnest your intentions. You must have feelings for her already or you would not be barging ahead.” Riordan looked away. “Damn it, Nephew, I thought you smarter than this.”

  Reluctantly, Riordan met his uncle’s worried gaze. His annoyance grew; the last thing he wanted was to argue with Garrett. “This has nothing to do with love. Not that you know anything about it.”

  Garrett crossed his arms. “And what makes you think I know nothing about it?” he replied, his voice soft. “I know more than I ever wished to. You may think you’re in charge of the situation, but it will spin out of control, mark my words.”

  This was a surprising development, for what did his uncle mean about love and knowing about it? When had he ever been involved with a woman? One of the summers he’d visited his Scottish relatives?

  Garrett shook his head. “I can hear the gears turning in your head. Do not even ask. This is about you, not me. What about your father and grandfather?”

  “I will reveal all when I come for the meeting.”

  Garrett scoffed. “By then it will be too late, the deed done. I should tell them of your insane plan. Have them talk sense into you.”

  “Uncle, give me credit for having a functioning brain. I’m not a stupid schoolboy, but a grown man out earning my keep. I’ve discussed this in-depth with William Chambers, my friend and solicitor, and this is all aboveboard. I had no idea the baron was selling his daughter, or had in the past. I was led to believe he would pay a generous settlement to be rid of her.”

  Garrett banged his fist on the table. “Exactly what makes you think this widow is not playing you for a fool? Eliciting your sympathies, trifling with your compassion for humankind? Your desire for progressive causes? All to gain money from you?”

  Riordan bristled. “All she knows is that I am a penniless schoolmaster. She has no clue of my family connections. My God, you are cynical.”

  “Bah.” Garrett shook his head. “There is no arguing with you.”

  “Please, allow me to break the news to father and grandfather. Will you?”

  “It’s against my better judgment, but fine. You’d better attend the meeting in two weeks time or I will tell them what’s going on.” Garrett raised an eyebrow. “For argument sake, let’s say the widow is innocent. How do you think she will react when she finds out the money did not come from her father, but from you? And the fact you lied to her…. Think on it, Nephew.” He spoke the last couple of sentences with slow, emphatic deliberation.

  A throbbing ache formed in Riordan’s left temple. He didn’t want to think about it. At least, not tonight. All he was concerned with was getting her away from her father and the marquess. To protect her, see her safe, and ensure she would not be used and abused anymore. To keep Sabrina from harm he would prevaricate, cheat, even kill. The depth of his turbulent emotions had him worried about how he was going to survive the next three months.

  Chapter 11

  Two days had passed since Riordan brought Sabrina and Mary to the inn. Sabrina had seen him only once, last night, to inform her he’d heard from William Chambers and they would be leaving by mail coach noon Friday. Reservations were made for two rooms at an inn near the law office and the registrar’s office. The brief civil ceremony would be held Saturday at noon, with Mary and Mr. Chambers acting as witnesses. There would be no music, no rings, and no solemn pronouncements before God. They would immediately return to Carrbury.

  Just as well, since she’d already had a fancy wedding in a large church and it had led to nothing but misery. Also during this period, arrangements were made for Mary’s own room and employment. It would be an adjustment not to have Mary around day and night. She would come to Sabrina in the mornings, prepare her for the day, see to her lunch, and then return to the inn for her afternoon duties. In the evening she would come to Sabrina to prepare her for bed.

  Sabrina took Mary’s words to heart: it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly and solicitous. Try and banish old fears. Could she do it when every instinct screamed for her to remain aloof? Especially after his show of temper with her father, though he deserved to be threatened. Her obligations to Riordan were accumulating at a swift rate.

  Taking the silk bag from her valise, she spread her jewelry across the small table. There was a jeweler here in Carrbury; would he buy select items from her? Then she could pay Riordan instead of waiting for the settlement to be processed. Her fingers trailed across the pearl hair comb. As far as she knew, these were real pearls. A wedding gift from Pepperdon. It meant nothing to her, then or now. Surely it could fetch twenty pounds or more. Sabrina pushed it aside. Her wedding ring, a plain gold band. Again, it meant nothing. Not a fancy piece, but enough to garner a few more pounds, at least. Nodding, she laid it next to the comb. There could be enough to not only pay Riordan, but buy herself a simple wool dress or two. She would save the more expensive pieces of jewelry for later bargaining if required.

  Sabrina had stayed in her room the past two days because she believed her father or the marquess would seek her out. Snatch her away. Paranoid, to be sure, but as much as she decided to move forward, old doubts still lingered. However, she would not allow dread to rule her life any longer with regards to any man. After scribbling a note for Mary informing her of her whereabouts, she readied herself for her departure.

  It was another pleasant autumn afternoon; a cool breeze ruffled the remaining leaves on the trees lining the main thoroughfare. If she remembered correctly, the jeweler was located at the corner of the thoroughfare and Weldon Road next to the bakery. A few men touched the brim of their hats as she passed and she nodded in reply.

  The pleasant odors of the bakery filled her senses. Baked apple and cinnamon, fresh bread. Perhaps she would stop in on her return to the inn and purchase a treat for herself and Mary. Pushing the door open to Davis and Sons Jewelers, a bell dinged overhead to signal her arrival. An older man stood behind the counter and gave her a polite smile. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Yes, indeed. You are the widow of the Earl of Pepperdo
n. It is common knowledge that you have returned to the area. How pleasing to see you out and about. May I assist you, my lady?”

  “Do you buy jewelry, Mr. Davis?”

  He scratched his whiskery chin. “Well, my lady, I do. For select customers. I should reveal you would fetch a far better price if you sold the pieces in London. Alas, I can only offer a fraction of the going rate.”

  Sabrina pulled the small silk bag from her reticule. “I assumed as much, Mr. Davis. I would still like to sell these.”

  Taking out his handheld jeweler’s loupe from his pocket, he snatched up the pearl comb and inspected the piece closely. “Good quality pearls. Not the best, mind you.” He laid the comb on the counter and picked up the wedding band. “Hmm. I can give you ten pounds for the lot.”

  “Let us agree on thirteen pounds, Mr. Davis. You will be making a significant profit here when you resell them. I’m desperate enough to absorb a loss, but not to accept an insulting offer.” She gave him a polite smile.

  “Ah. Shrewdly bargained, Lady Pepperdon. Thirteen pounds it is. Will notes suffice?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The jeweler bowed and turned to open his cash box. Sabrina looked absently about the store, when the corner of her eye caught her father walking by the large shop window. She froze, and old fears surfaced once again. Through sheer inner strength she collected herself and hurried to the window to watch as he strode down the street. He entered the solicitor’s office. Blast, the one time she decided to leave her room she encountered her miserable father. Several minutes passed. Then she recognized her father’s carriage as it pulled up to the office.

  “My lady?” Mr. Davis questioned.

  She waved her arm. “A moment please, Mr. Davis.” Sabrina continued to observe, and minutes later her father emerged from the office, a large brown envelope tucked under his arm. Once he climbed into the coach, it was off, spraying mud and water in its wake as it turned the corner. Exhaling a sigh of relief, she rejoined the jeweler, taking the pound notes he held out to her.