Tucking them into her bag, she nodded at the older man. “Thank you, Mr. Davis.”
He bowed elegantly. “A pleasure doing business with you, Lady Pepperdon.” He escorted her to the door and held it open.
Clutching her reticule, Sabrina hurried along the walkway, pleased she’d spoken out regarding the price. In the past, she would have accepted the offer without uttering a peep. As she rounded the corner, a familiar and unwelcome voice brought her up short.
“Hello, Daughter.”
Sabrina gasped and froze in her tracks. Her father. But she had watched him depart!
“I saw you standing at the window at the jewelers. I had my driver circle the block. Out and about town? Selling choice pieces?” He stepped closer, a cruel smile curved about his mouth. “You think you have escaped your fate. But you haven’t.”
She glanced about, wondering if she should cry out for help. Cursing under her breath, she admonished herself for allowing fright to grip her. Her hands trembled and she clutched her reticule tighter. The baron took another step closer, and Sabrina took one in reverse as she tried to remain outwardly indifferent.
“Allow me to inform you of a salient fact about Sutherhorne,” her father said in a cool but steady voice. “The marquess is a determined and dangerous man to cross, and you and your self-important schoolmaster have stoked his anger. There will be consequences, mark my words. He does not forget—nor forgive. He exacts revenge.”
Blast her father for still having a firm hold of her emotions! “You don’t frighten me. Not anymore. I won’t let you. I am free from you at last. And that miserable marquess.”
He laughed. “You always were a foolish girl. As foolish and stupid and useless as your mother. Like most useless women, you need a man to support you, to keep you in the custom to which you have become used to. Well, the schoolmaster will not be able to dress and feed you as you wish. You will be living in a shack.”
Not for long. She would gain control of her own life, and she was tempted to tell her father of her plan. Instead, she sniffed dismissively. “I’d rather live in a shack with an honorable man than live in a manor house with you or Sutherhorne.”
“We will see,” he whispered ominously. When a couple passed them, her father touched the brim of his hat and gave a false smile, while he said for her hearing only, “This isn’t over.”
He continued along the sidewalk, not giving her a second look, leaving her shaking with both anger and cold fear. What did he mean about the marquess? The bit of anticipation she’d experienced for this small excursion scattered into nothingness and she continued on her way. She stopped in front of the dress shop—her lavender silk gown trimmed with white lace was on display in the window.
The garment had been one of many she’d left behind when she departed. Good heavens, her father had sold them? It is not as if he needed the money, considering he’d paid out her settlement. Then why? Besides being a penny-pinching miser and a complete bully, apparently he wished to erase every last trace of her from the premises. Again, her heart stung. Now hurt mixed with the anger and the lingering fright.
Dejectedly, she ambled past the dress shop and bakery and continued toward the inn. She didn’t care that her skirt dragged through the muck when she stepped into the muddy street.
“Lady Pepperdon.”
There was no mistaking the deep, masculine voice. Glancing up, Riordan hurried toward her. Lord, he was breathtaking, and the sight of him made her aching heart throb for a different reason. Today he wore a calf-length black wool coat and a top hat. The fashionable coat was a snug fit, accentuating his broad shoulders. It was tucked in at the waist, as was the fashion.
How could a schoolmaster afford such well-made garments? Perhaps he was not as poor as she was led to believe. Occasionally, she had the distinct feeling he was keeping secrets from her. Well, she would keep her own secrets—like meeting the baron on the street, for she did not want to rile Riordan. Or facilitate another confrontation between him and her father. A smile broke out on his flawless face, and try as she might to return it, she couldn’t.
Standing before her, he touched the wide brim of his hat. “Mary informed me you were walking about town. Is there somewhere I may escort you?”
Polite, kind, a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, at least outwardly. But she had witnessed the burst of violence from him. Could he be, deep down, the same sort of man as her father and the marquess? No. Riordan did not deserve her suspicion, as he was doing her a great service. He’d apologized for his burst of temper, and it was best she put it behind her. “I’m heading to the inn.”
Crooking his arm, he said, “Let us make our way.”
Take his arm? It would be an insult if she didn’t. Yet the thought of touching him for an extended period caused her insides to tumble with yearning. Steeling herself, she slipped her hand through, resting it as lightly as she could on his sleeve. Even through the coat, muscle flexed under her fingers. Say something. “School is out already?”
“Dismissal will be at half past three instead of five for the rest of this week, as a number of students are needed on family farms. It is why the board agreed to dismiss school at noon Friday—it will please the parents. Apparently it is time to make final provisions for the harvest, and there are other chores to prepare for the oncoming winter.”
A fair number of passersby gaped at them as they strode along. It would be all over town that she was arm-in-arm with the schoolmaster. In years past, she used to care about such talk, but since they were marrying on Saturday, it was hardly worth giving any mind.
“No luck with your shopping trip?” he asked.
Well, he wasn’t put off by her sullen mood, she would give him credit. “I lost all interest when I spotted one of my gowns on display in the dress shop window.”
He cast a quick glance. “How did that come about?”
“I left behind a trunk full of expensive gowns when I departed. I assume my father sold them. It cannot be for the money. It leads me to conclude he wished to erase every last trace of my existence from his home.”
“I meant what I said, Sabrina: don’t ever look back. No regrets. He is not worth your consideration in any way.” He patted her gloved hand with his own and the gesture made her want to cry. “I did bring the wagon; we could have brought the trunk with us.”
“No, they meant nothing. Remnants of my life with Pepperdon. I wish to start fresh, and that includes my wardrobe. Besides, many of the gowns are inappropriate for the sedate life I plan to live going forward.” In all her eleven years with Pepperdon they did not speak this freely—they hardly spoke at all. Sabrina decided to keep the conversation going. “I sold two of the pieces of jewelry I’d been gifted from Pepperdon. I wish to pay you with some of the proceeds. For the inn, the mail coach, any upcoming expenses.”
With a quick turn, Riordan led her into a darkened alley. Swinging her around, her back touched the wood clapboards of the building. He stood close, staring down at her. “Do not feel beholden to me. I’m happy to help. I do not expect payment.” Riordan’s voice was tender, but firm.
“I know, but paying you for these expenses means a great deal to me. It is the first act of my newfound independence. My new life. I’m already under obligation to you. This small recompense will lessen it, and ease my conscience.”
He arched an eyebrow. “It’s important to you?”
“Yes. I wish to do my share, pay my way. Will five pounds suffice?” He nodded. “Excellent. I’m relieved. You ask for so little, I’m glad to give a bit in return for once. In the future, if you wish anything of me, you merely have to give voice to it.”
“There is something I wish from you.” His voice was husky, sensual in its cadence. “I long to see you laugh. Throw back your head, laughing for the pure joy of it.” His gloved finger traced her bottom lip. “Even a smile, a genuine one, refle
cting happiness and contentment.”
“I cannot remember the last time I did,” she whispered.
“It will give me a goal these next months,” he murmured. “Meanwhile, I will settle for a kiss.”
Sabrina blinked, not believing what she’d heard. Surely, he cannot be serious.
“A sweet, brief kiss, a gentle meshing of our lips. Nothing predatory or untoward, I promise.” He continued to caress her lower lip, causing her legs to turn to jelly.
“Why do you wish to kiss me?” Her voice shook, her tone incredulous, for she truly could not understand why he would ask for such intimacy.
“I have wanted to kiss you from the beginning, even though you annoyed me with your supercilious ways.” She sputtered in protest, but he ignored her and continued on. “Besides, you have eminently kissable lips. You appeal to me, Sabrina. You should know it now, in case you have second thoughts on our temporary arrangement.” He pulled his hand away. “I am going to touch your cheek, will you allow it?”
Her response dried up in her throat. How to explain that she’d never received a proper kiss from a man? Pepperdon had never bothered. The few she’d received from the old earl during the beginning of their marriage consisted of polite busses on the cheek. There was no affection in them, and when he came to her bedroom, there was no preamble before he roughly rutted her. Sabrina cleared her throat. “We are out in public.”
“The sun is setting; no one can observe us here in the alley. May I…touch you?”
Against her better judgment, she gave him a brisk nod. He removed his glove with his teeth, letting it drop to the ground. The warmth from his hand caused her eyelids to blink rapidly. “Soft, as I imagined. Like the finest silk. Your skin is glorious to the touch.” Riordan caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Slowly, he leaned in, angling his head for the kiss. As soon as his lips brushed hers, she could not keep the gasp from escaping her throat, for the contact was electric.
Riordan hesitated. Then he kissed her again, the barest touch. She had no idea what to do. How to react. This was the last thing she expected to occur between them. Perhaps she should follow his lead and return in kind. She moved her mouth across his, and now he was the one who gasped, though it sounded more like a moan. His lips were surprisingly supple. His scent was subtle, masculine, a mixture of lime and bergamot, no doubt from his shaving soap.
In slow increments, Riordan ended the kiss. Exhaling, he smiled. “Better than I imagined. Thank you.”
Her heart banged furiously against her ribcage. One innocent kiss had upended her world. Made it spin out of control. Blast, she should have never allowed it! Feigning indifference, she pushed away from the wall. “Shall we continue on our journey?” Her tone was aloof, the exact feeling she wished to convey.
Riordan’s mouth twisted into a half smile as he bent to retrieve his glove. “As you wish.”
They did not speak the rest of the way, and on the stoop of the inn, she opened her reticule and passed him five one-pound notes. “Thank you again…Riordan.”
He touched the brim of his hat as he stuffed the notes into his coat pocket. “Until Friday at noon. We will drop most of your luggage at the cottage before we depart. Pack only what you need for overnight. Relay the same to Mary.” She must have been frowning, for he added, “It was only a kiss, Sabrina. Tell me now: did it disturb or disgust you to such a degree that you wish for it to never happen again?”
Here lay the opportunity to dismiss this mutual attraction in no uncertain terms. To inform him in as cool a tone as she could muster that he was not to touch her ever again. Explain they were better off ignoring what sparked between them, and in three months they could depart and live their own lives, stay polite strangers and never think of each other at all.
She could not do it.
However, there must be parameters set between them. “No, it did not disturb me in the way you think. But you must see that this cannot happen again. There must be boundaries we cannot cross if this agreement is to work.”
Clasping her gloved hand, he brought it to his lips. With lids half hooded, he glanced up at her. “I will respect certain boundaries. But, in all honesty, I cannot promise it will not happen again.” He paused, his eyes alive with blue fire. “For there is nothing I wish to do more at this moment than to pull you into my arms and kiss you again. Deeply. Thoroughly.” He let go of her hand. “Good evening.”
He turned and walked away, leaving her trembling by the front entrance. Oh, she was hopeless. For there was nothing she wanted more than for him to pull her into his arms and kiss her. And there lay certain trouble. Or paradise.
Or both.
Chapter 12
The trip to London passed by in a complete blur. Sabrina and Mary sat on one side of the crowded carriage, while Riordan sat opposite. They were all crammed in like sardines in a tin, which made private conversation difficult. The older woman next to her continually sneezed the entire trip, and she smelled of olive oil, which supported the sardine analogy.
When they arrived in the city they took a hansom cab from the carriage stop to the inn. Thankfully it was not far, as the conveyance barely had room for the three of them. Sabrina became engulfed in heat—Riordan’s body pressed against hers from shoulder to calf. Since the kiss, she reacted to his nearness more than ever before.
Settled in their room, Sabrina expressed her desire to take a nap, but Riordan had acquired a small private dining area for supper. Mary informed him that she would take a tray in the room, effectively leaving Sabrina alone with Riordan. “I insist you come with me,” Sabrina pouted when they were alone.
Mary pulled a book from her carpetbag. “I would rather curl up here by the fire, read, and eat at my leisure.”
“So would I,” Sabrina replied.
“My lady, you should join Mr. Black. He’s gone to a good deal of trouble to arrange all of this for you. Besides, you had best become used to being alone with him. He is not the old earl. Mr. Black will wish for you to engage in conversation, act interested in him and what he’s doing or saying. I know it will be an adjustment after the lonely life you spent with that horrid man.” Mary paused, giving her an encouraging smile. “Come out of the shadows and look at the sun full on, my lady. Revel in the comforting heat and glory of the dazzling light. And I must say, Mr. Black is all warmth and brightness.”
Mary was correct, as usual. “Yes,” Sabrina replied. “He is.” Should she mention the kiss? Not tonight. No doubt it had been an aberration, nothing more. “Yet I cannot allow myself to grow attached to him. He is younger and beneath me socially, at least Society says it matters. I do not want or need a man for the long term.” She crossed her arms defiantly.
Mary shook her head. “None of it will matter if love is involved. Remember to be open to new experiences, wherever they may lead, my lady.”
“I will try, but I must protect…protect…”
“Your guarded heart? Your sensitive soul? Your hurt feelings?”
“Oh, Mary, you do have a way of getting directly to the core of the matter. Yes. Everything you mentioned. But also my damaged trust and deep-seated fears. My wounded pride. My lost innocence.” Sabina tossed her shawl about her shoulders. “I do not want to like him…but I do. I do not want to be attracted to him…but I am. It can go no further.”
Mary nodded, though her expression was dubious. “As you wish, my lady. Enjoy the meal and the conversation.”
Giving the slightest hint of a smile, Sabrina grabbed the doorknob. “And bask in his brilliance?”
Mary laughed. “Yes. Revel in it, in fact.”
Sabrina opened the door to find Riordan standing there. What had he overheard? Thank goodness he gave no indication that he’d heard any of the conversation. He wore his frock coat, with a white cravat tied simply at his throat. She stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her. Acting the gentleman, he
placed his hand at her back, barely making contact, but enough for her to be aware of his touch. He guided her toward the small dining area in the rear of the inn.
“We are in luck; a private room was available. No peers staying here tonight. Well, besides you. I do hope you like roast turkey. I’m told it is the main course.”
They entered the room, and Sabrina was struck by how cozy and welcoming it appeared. A fire blazed in the stone hearth, and nearby stood an oak dining table set, complete with linen tablecloth and lit candles. Riordan pulled out her chair and she took a seat. “The journey has made me hungry,” she said as she arranged her skirts.
“Me as well. You don’t mind that we will return to Carrbury as soon as the ceremony concludes? Well, two hours after.” He sat opposite her. “There are a couple of shops in the vicinity you may wish to browse before we catch the mail coach. There is a bookshop, a dress shop—”
“Oh, yes. Especially the book dealer. I’m a voracious reader, as is Mary. How thoughtful of you.”
Riordan smiled broadly. “Your eyes are twinkling. First time they’ve done so since we’ve become acquainted.” He leaned in and murmured, “The green shade in your hazel eyes is pronounced, and it glitters like emeralds.”
Heat infused her cheeks. Oh, he was a shameless flirt, but the words were not insincerely spoken. It pleased her, for she was not used to such attention from a man, mainly because she was never given the opportunity to enjoy a season, or the company of any gentlemen close to her own age. Pepperdon could not be bothered with compliments and words of affection. He preferred insults, or hurling licentious phrases at her when he bothered to speak at all.
No. She would not think of that disgusting man. Not while she basked in the glow of Riordan’s company. Oh, Mary had the right of it. Warmth and brightness. No more cold darkness. “Thank you. I believe you’re the first man to compliment my eyes.”
“Am I? I’m honored. I confess I’m not a skilled flirt, so any praise is sincerely meant. I shall endeavor to do it more often.” He took a sip of water. “It is settled. A shopping excursion before we depart.”
Marriage with a Proper Stranger Page 11
