“I will not contact Kenworth. At least, not for now. I still stand by my belief that you should end this marriage, sooner rather than later.” His father blew out an exasperated breath. “Best we change the subject. I met our new neighbors this afternoon.”
Garrett grinned as he took a puff on his cigar. “Mrs. Alberta Eaton and her brother-in-law, Jonas Eaton.”
“What can you tell me about them?” Julian asked.
Riordan glanced at his father; he was interested in what Garrett had to say. All of a sudden, so was Riordan.
“Mrs. Eaton is thirty-nine. She was married to Mr. Reese Eaton, barrister, for ten years before he died of heart failure. I believe she said her husband was close to twenty years older. And Jonas? A late birth for Mr. Eaton’s mother, one she did not survive.” Garrett sipped his brandy. “Alberta said the cord was wrapped around his neck at birth. They thought him stillborn until the doctor brought him around by massaging his chest. Was he deprived of air for too long? Or is this the way he was meant to be? No one knows the answer.”
Julian stubbed out the remains of his cigar. “Unfortunate. How is it you are privy to this information?”
“Many a cup of tea in the parlor over the past several weeks. Do I detect a spark of interest in the widow, Brother?” Garrett’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
Julian scoffed. “Hardly.”
The men gave him dubious looks, including Riordan. His father had not shown any curiosity toward a woman in recent memory. Oh, he was aware that his father had a few affairs through the years, but he never mentioned any of them. Interesting development.
“Riordan, over brunch tomorrow we wish to hear a detailed account of your schoolroom adventures, and the results of your progressive curriculum,” the earl stated.
“Of course, Grandfather.”
He would depart immediately after and head home. To Sabrina. This visit had made Riordan all the more determined to pursue a permanent bond between them. He’d spoken the truth: he was more than infatuated. Taking a chance with his heart? Perhaps. But she was worth the risk.
In all ways.
* * * *
He stood, resplendent in his soldier red, the breeze ruffling his thick, black hair. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looked every inch the hero. Handsome beyond measure, with eyes that rivaled the summer sky above, he gave me a sly smile and a slight bow. My insides somersaulted as a heated yearning tore through me, culminating in my body reacting in the naughtiest of ways. I wanted to possess him; I wanted him to possess me. It was then I knew I would sacrifice everything I was raised to believe in order to have him in my bed for one night.
Sabrina closed the book and heaved a sigh. Last night she’d started to read The Bold Seduction of Miss Featherstone and found herself swept up in this young woman’s tale of sensual awakening. The entertaining read was a combination of the heroine’s journal entries interspersed with third-person narration.
Much of what was described in this story, Sabrina was slowly becoming aware of: the tumbling of her insides, the reactions of her body, whether naughty or not. There was no doubt about it. Finally, when in a man’s presence, she experienced arousal. In Riordan’s presence. This never happened with her husband. Not once.
She’d enjoyed their first night of reading Wuthering Heights. It certainly highlighted how all-consuming passion could be—and how tragic. The thought of Heathcliff standing before the open window, beseeching a ghostly Cathy, his heart’s desire, to come to him made her eyes fill up. But it was not only the story itself—it was Riordan’s mesmerizing voice, and the emotion he injected into every word.
Mary bustled into the bedroom. “Luncheon is ready, my lady. Come to the table… Oh! You’re reading the book.”
Sabrina slipped it under her pillow. “Yes, and I have questions.”
“Come, before it grows cold. I made us poached eggs on toast. Ask me what you will while we eat.”
Sabrina smiled as she stood and followed Mary into the parlor area. “Not as fancy as we are used to.” Since coming to the small cottage, she and Mary had shared meals, the line between lady and servant further blurred, and Sabrina did not mind in the least.
As Mary poured their tea, Sabrina cut her egg and toast into small pieces. Her maid cut generous slices of Cheshire cheese. “Mrs. Ingersoll and I have made a workable plan between us. Since the foodstuff order has been delivered, I will be able to prepare a few extras outside her domain.” Mary laid pieces of cheese on Sabrina’s plate. “We will follow Mr. Black’s meal pattern. Breakfast, luncheon, and supper. A bit different from the breakfast, afternoon tea, and late dinner of your class.”
“I will adapt, Mary, never fear.”
“Mrs. Ingersoll will arrive at four o’clock each afternoon, do a little light cleaning, and leave supper behind for you both. I will be done with my own duties and supper by seven, and will come to you directly after eight to prepare you for bed. If that is satisfactory, my lady.”
“Sounds as if you have it all planned out. You do not mind the work at the inn?”
Mary shook her head. “Not at all. Tidying rooms, making beds, assisting at the front desk…it’s no problem, my lady. I would have made the sausages, but I thought we would save those for a luncheon when Mr. Black can join you.”
Popping a piece of egg and toast in her mouth, Sabrina chewed and swallowed. “Speaking of Mr. Black.”
Now seated and cutting into her egg, Mary lifted her head and caught her gaze. “Yes?”
“As you witnessed, Mr. Black—Riordan—kissed me with a good deal of enthusiasm at the registrar’s office. But he kissed me before, and after too.”
Mary smiled. “You allowed it?”
“I did. And I…enjoyed it.” Sabrina sipped her tea.
Mary laid her utensils across her plate, and her smile slipped away. “I was with you through those long eleven years of your marriage to that wretched man. Many a night the other servants had to restrain me from marching into the bedroom and tearing you away from his deviant clutches.” Mary’s eyes welled with tears. “I wish now I’d mustered the courage.”
“Oh, Mary.” Sabrina patted her hand. “It only would have fueled his anger, and he would have taken it out on you.” She paused, wondering whether to reveal anything of what had gone on behind closed doors. She’d never told anyone in any detail. “Do you remember a winter’s night in the fifth year, you knocked at the door asking if I was all right? I know there was more than one occasion.” Mary looked up at her, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a napkin, and nodded. “The earl had me tied to the bed. Facedown. Committing an act I now know is sodomy.” Mary gasped. “When you knocked, he bade me to say all was fine, or he would pull you into the room and do the same to you, and make me watch.”
Mary cried out. “Oh, my lady.”
“You know he would have done it. When at last he became bored of me and realized I would not become…pregnant, he left me alone. He also left me dead inside. Completely numb. But not all physical relations between a man and a woman are what I endured, are they?”
Mary shook her head as she picked up her utensils and speared a piece of egg with her fork. “No. Not at all.” Her maid sighed. “I’m not a virgin, my lady. I have known contentment in a man’s arms…and in his bed. We were to be married, you see, but he was a sailor like my father.” Her expression softened. “Oh, he was a considerate lover. You’d think he would be rough and uncouth, considering his occupation, but my Billy knew how to love a woman good and proper. Unfortunately, he was on the same ship as my father and was lost at sea.”
Now Sabrina’s eyes welled with tears. “Oh, my dear. How tragic.”
Mary continued eating. In between bites she said, “I had no time to mourn. It was left to me to provide for my mother and me. But I stray from the point. Going by the look in Mr. Black’s eyes when he gazes at you…I saw the same in B
illy’s. Respectful and loving. Mr. Black would be a caring and thorough lover, I’m sure of it. Maybe even a little wild. You can tell about a man from his kiss. Was Mr. Black aggressive? Forceful?” Sabrina shook her head. “Good. For I will reveal that when complete trust exists, a little wildness in the bedchamber can be exciting.” A flush of embarrassment colored Sabrina’s cheeks at Mary’s blunt words. “But if he starts off gentle like, understanding of your reaction, and then kisses more deeply, allowing the desire to flame between you…there is nothing better. Am I describing Mr. Black?” Mary asked.
Sabrina quickly shoved a small bite of egg in her mouth and nodded.
“It is not always easy to forget the past, but you must not allow it to rule your life. Perhaps, my lady, you could try.”
“I would like to,” Sabrina whispered. “I miss Riordan. I’m longing to see him again. Mary, what is happening to me?”
“You’re falling for him,” Mary replied matter-of-factly.
“But I cannot. We have plans. We must follow them through….”
Mary shrugged. “Life rarely follows the earnest plans we make. Do not close this door, my lady, see what develops.” Mary continued with her meal.
See what develops. Dare she? Oh, she was confused, her emotions in a jumble. It would be quite a step from being a baron’s daughter and an earl’s wife to be with a mere schoolmaster. In the past, such an obstacle would not have even been considered. She had been brought up to believe that one stays in one’s own class. She didn’t think as such anymore. What had her class given her? Nothing but misery.
Turning her attention to her meal, Sabrina began to eat in earnest. Yes. Why not see what develops? A few passionate kisses did not have to lead anywhere; she could continue on with her original plan of her and Mary finding a small place to live out their days. Yes, this would be the more prudent path to take. And if she could manage to learn more about the schoolmaster, all the better.
But Sabrina could not deny that she’d never felt more alive than when she was with Riordan.
Gaining independence meant she was at last in charge of her own life. Truth be told, she wanted—ached—to bask in Riordan’s warmth and attention.
Chapter 18
The autumn sun was setting as Riordan arrived at the Walsh farm. It was November third; the air held a decided chill and most of the leaves had fallen. He was exhausted, not only from the journey, but from the drama and emotions his marriage announcement had stirred up. Over brunch before he left, he expounded in great detail everything he’d implemented within the schoolroom and the successes he had garnered.
His grandfather had instructed Martin to take copious notes as Riordan spoke, and by the time he’d concluded it was well past the hour for departure. His farewell with his father was cool but civil. Julian’s harsh words were a heavy weight on Riordan’s mind. But he was determined to follow his own path, and hopefully his father would come around to his way of thinking. The men all agreed, finding Aidan was a top priority, and Garrett volunteered to begin the search in earnest by hiring an ex-copper friend of his.
A shiver traveled down Riordan’s spine. From the rain shower he’d been caught in? Perhaps. He had sought temporary shelter at an inn, but his clothes were still damp. No, the shiver had more to do with Aidan. They shared a bond, but it wasn’t as if they shared emotions and pains, like the fictional characters in The Corsican Brothers by Alexandre Dumas. Yet Riordan could not deny that there were instances when he sensed something was not right with Aidan. He sensed it now.
Truthfully, he should be assisting Garrett in finding his brother. But other responsibilities pulled him in a conflicting direction. With the colder weather growing ever closer, he doubted he would be given any further personal time for trips to Wollstonecraft Hall and beyond. He had implored Garrett to keep him apprised of any developments.
Farmer Walsh raised a hand to greet him. Riordan pulled up on the reins, then slid off his horse. Patting the gelding’s neck, he said, “Grayson has had quite a workout. I hastened his pace part of the way. He’s lathered, weary, and, I imagine, hungry.”
Farmer Walsh took the reins. “I will see him well looked after, sir. A rubdown, your special mix of oats, and plenty of water. Will you stay for a mug of tea?”
Riordan released the strap that held his small valise on Grayson. “It is tempting, but I should head for home and—”
The sharp, piercing cry of an animal came from the nearby barn. A desperate howling. “What is that?”
“Oh, Charlie chose a kitten from the barn cat’s litter weeks ago. Brought it in the house and trained it, but the wife has taken to sneezing and the like, so the animal has been banished to the barn.” Farmer Walsh scratched his whiskery chin. “Got to find a new home for it; it’s useless as a barn cat. Won’t survive.”
Kitten. The lonely mewing cut straight to his heart as he recalled Sabrina sadly relaying the fact that she’d not been allowed to have a pet. Should he? It was an impulsive thing to do. “How much for the kitten? I believe my bride would welcome a pet.”
“Nay, sir. No charge at all. You pay me far above what is expected for boarding a horse, and Charlie thinks the world of you. Never seen him so keen to go to school. Unlike most of my neighbors, I believe an education is important. Wish I had one.” The farmer chuckled. “Though I don’t see how this type of learning benefits a farmer.”
“There is a saying in Latin, ‘ars gratia artis,’ which means ‘art for art’s sake.’ Learning for learning’s sake. Are you interested in having your son become something beyond a farmer, as wonderful as that is? Perhaps a doctor or a solicitor?”
“Aye. I want my son to have more opportunities.”
“Only with learning and knowledge can this happen. Instilling a sense of wonder and awe.” Riordan smiled.
“Aye. Awe. I’m learning too, as Charlie tells us all you’ve taught him every night at supper.”
Riordan was humbled by the words. To be given proof that his way of teaching was having an impact on his students’ lives—and their parents’—was more than he could ask for. “Thank you, Farmer Walsh. Then it’s all worthwhile, isn’t it?”
“That it is, sir. Come into the barn with me while I see to Grayson. You can meet the kitten. Charlie called her Mittens, but I imagine your missus can call it whatever she wants.”
Riordan placed his luggage on the ground and followed Farmer Walsh in. The warmth from the barn drove off the chill from his bones, and the familiar odors of hay, horse, and leather reminded him of home. “Are you sure Charlie will not mind parting with his pet?”
“He said he’d prefer she has a good home, and he’ll be thrilled you took the kitten in rather than anyone else.” He pointed to the far corner. “She’s there. Once I put Grayson in his stall, I’ll see if the wife has a closed hamper you can borrow. In fact, I’ll see you home on the wagon, sir. You’ll need the basket the kitten slept in, the container she does her business in, the sand….”
Riordan laughed. “I will accept the ride gladly.”
He walked to the small pen. Huddling and shivering in a pile of hay was a white kitten with patches of orange across its small body. She looked up at him, her green eyes full of misery. Leaning down, he gathered the frightened kitten in his arms, expecting a hiss and a scratch for his efforts. Instead, Mittens burrowed close to his chest and mewed softly. Already he was taken with the small feline; he hoped Sabrina would be as well.
By the time they left the Walsh farm darkness had blanketed the sky, the moon and stars their only guide. Mrs. Walsh gifted Riordan with a fresh loaf of bread and a raisin pie. The kitten had mercifully stopped yowling. As they pulled up to the cottage, the door swung open and Sabrina stood on the threshold. Farmer Walsh elbowed him. “Your young bride is happy to see you, sir.” The farmer gave him a wink.
Was she? As usual, her expression was shuttered, though the light
from the parlor illuminated her enough that he was able to see a small smile curved about her lovely lips. God. His heart leapt at the sight of her. He was tempted to jump down from the wagon and run to her, pull her into his arms, kiss her with every scorching sensation tearing through him. Tamping down his arousal, he slid from the bench seat and assisted Farmer Walsh in unloading the wagon. Holding out the pie as an offering, he approached Sabrina and kissed her on the cheek. “From Mrs. Walsh.”
“How kind,” she murmured. More loudly she said, “Farmer Walsh, do thank your wife. Kind of both of you.”
The farmer touched his forelock and carried the items into the cottage. After saying their goodbyes, Sabrina and Riordan were left alone in the parlor. Riordan reached for the covered basket and held it out toward her. “For you. I thought you would like a little company during the afternoons.”
Her brows furrowed as she took the hamper and lifted the lid. A loud meow emitted from it. She gasped, then dropped the lid. Thrusting it in his hands, she turned and fled.
Damn it all. What had happened? Then it struck him. She was overwhelmed. He placed the basket on the floor. “Stay. We will be returning.” Pulling off his coat and muffler, he tossed them onto the chaise longue and headed to the bedroom. The door was closed—he tried the handle—but not locked. Turning it, he entered the room and found Sabrina with her back to him, staring at the flames dancing in the small fireplace.
He walked up behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s all right to feel, Sabrina. To show emotion.” He nuzzled her neck, and to his genuine pleasure, she did not shrink away from him.
“No one has ever given me such a thoughtful gift before,” she whispered. “Not ever.”
Riordan turned her to face him and lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers in order for their gazes to meet. Tears streamed down her cheeks and his heart clenched in response. Cupping her face, he soothingly brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I can convey, based on personal experience, that there is nothing lovelier than reading by the fire with a pet cuddled up next to you. I believe you and Mittens will become fast friends.”
Marriage with a Proper Stranger Page 17
