The Wife He Always Wanted (6 page)

“There you are,” Lady Seymour said. The woman and the countess exchanged cheek kisses and then Lady Seymour introduced them. Above an amber-colored eye a brow cocked at the news of Gabriel’s marriage.

Sarah managed a brief curtsy. “Lady Noelle.”

“I cannot believe Gabriel is home and with a wife in hand,” cousin Lady Noelle said by way of greeting. She openly stared at Sarah like she was a curiosity at a fair. “I expected him to meet his demise at the end of a pistol wielded by an outraged husband. I am pleased to see he has curbed his wild ways and finally settled his life.”

Sarah was not certain what to say about the comment. She did not know her husband well enough to form an opinion about his character, nor did she know how, or if, she should defend him to his cousin. The Harrington family was still a confusing puzzle.

“Thank you. I think.” Sarah stared back. Lady Noelle was pretty and lively, impeccably clad in blue from her feathered hat to her lacy hem.

A touch of envy welled inside her as she touched her borrowed gown with her gloved hand.

Noelle took her arm. “Let us go inside away from prying eyes and you can tell me all about yourself, Mrs. Harrington. I am truly dying to know how you managed to snag Gabriel. I never thought he’d fall into the marriage trap.”

Sarah glanced at Lady Seymour, who shrugged.

Within an hour, Sarah had made her first friend in London. Noelle was charming and funny, and she had a way about her that set Sarah at ease. She knew fashion, as no one else could, and had an eye for color. Soon Sarah was weighted down with packages filled with pretty undergarments and silky nightdresses. Added to the purchases were one green gown and a plum day dress. And they were still at the first shop.

“I should not spend so much,” Sarah said, overwhelmed by the cost of each gown. “Gabriel will be displeased.”

“Posh,” Lady Seymour said and reached for a pair of lacy black gloves. “My son has an allowance and investments that will more than cover a new wardrobe.”

Noelle stepped forward. “Do not take this as an insult, but if anyone needs new clothing, it is you, Sarah. From what I understand, your gowns are nearly worn through. You are one curtsy away from splitting a seam.”

“You have been talking to Gabriel.” He’d used the same words last evening when he came to her room to say a brief goodnight. She grinned. “I did marry him in a mourning gown. Perhaps I
should
spend some of his allowance.”

“You married Gabriel in black?” Noelle asked and her lips parted. She and Lady Seymour gaped.

“I did, after he’d altered it with his knife.” She laughed lightly and told the story. “You should have seen his face when he saw me in that gown. I thought he’d drop from apoplexy to the floor.”

The three women laughed.

“I wasn’t entirely certain at first that you and Gabe were a match,” Noelle admitted and crossed her arms. “He is quite bold. However, a woman who can get him to agree to wed her in a mourning gown is capable of bringing him to heel. But it will take work. Are you up to the task?”

“I hope so,” Sarah said. At Noelle’s frown, she nodded and stood a bit straighter. “I am.”

Despite her attempt at confidence, and her hope to entice her husband with her charms, she did not truly think she could ever lead Gabriel on a merry chase. Her sheltered life had taken a toll. She knew nothing about men. Nothing. And there was so much to learn.

As if reading her face, Noelle casually drew her away from Lady Seymour under the guise of looking at stockings.

“You look so glum, Sarah.” Sarah looked at her toes. Noelle lifted her chin. “Is there something wrong? Something you’d like to share?”

Sarah shook her head, unwilling to unburden herself to her new friend. Noelle peered into her eyes. “Has Gabriel been unkind? If he has, I will flog him myself.”

“No, Gabriel has been kind. He is more than I ever dreamed in a husband. It’s just that—” She stopped; the shame of her situation warmed her cheeks.

“Tell me,” Noelle said firmly.

Sarah’s flush deepened and her voice dropped to a whisper. “I do not know how to be a satisfactory wife.”

Chapter Five

D
o you mean . . . ?” Noelle pressed gently.

Humiliated, Sarah wanted to die, here among the fabric bolts. Clearly her flaming face gave Noelle clues. When she’d said she did not know how to be a wife, she wasn’t talking about dinner table conversation or how to tie his cravat.

“I should not have said anything.” She turned away. “My, isn’t this blue silk just lovely?”

Noelle took her arm and gently spun her around. There was no judgment in her expression, no humor, nothing at all to indicate that she was anything but sympathetic to Sarah’s situation.

“Please. I insist you allow me to help,” Noelle said. “I grew up with Gabe. If anyone knows him, I do.”

Having opened the door to this conversation, Sarah felt that perhaps sharing her concerns might actually help. She’d only just met Noelle, but she felt a kinship with her.

Glancing around, she assured herself that they were alone, took a deep breath, and plunged ahead. “Our wedding night was a failure. I did not know what to expect. The only information my aunt passed to me before she died was that a man pushed up your gown and put his male part inside of you.”

Lud! Mortified over the confession, she said a silent prayer for a heart seizure. The prayer failed.

Thankfully, instead of laughing, Noelle took her hand.

“You truly
were
an innocent bride.” Noelle blew out a breath through pursed lips. “I hope that Gabe was, er, patient?”

“He was.” Sarah instinctively knew that the night had not gone well for him either. He’d tried to hide his disappointment but she’d felt his regret. “He was just so big, so . . . bearded, a stranger. He wanted to wait until I knew him better. I wanted it over. Thank goodness he had the good sense to end the evening before it went too far.”

“Would waiting have changed things?” Noelle asked. “If he took you to bed now, would you feel calmer than you did then?”

Sarah thought about her handsome and confident husband and her stomach tightened. She shook her head. “He intimidates me in and out of bed. But the situation was far worse when—” She could not finish the sentence.

Noelle was kind enough not to giggle, snicker, or guffaw with Sarah’s admission. Instead she worried her bottom lip between her teeth and her thoughts seemed to drift off for a moment, then two.

Finally, she nodded. “I will help you make things right between you and your husband, outside of bed, of course. We cannot let your marriage fail. I have seen enough miserable and loveless marriages. My parents included. Once there is affection between you, the rest will come easier.

The marriage could not fail for more reasons than Noelle knew, Sarah thought. She’d not yet had the chance to look into her father’s death. In fact, she had no idea where to start.

“But what can we do?” Sarah said, refocusing her attention. She looked down at the borrowed gown and frowned as it hung on her thin frame. “Gabriel does not look at me like a man besotted. I think he was relieved to end the seduction so he’d not have to force desire where he does not feel it. Why would a man like him find a woman like me passion inspiring?”

Noelle’s eyes narrowed. “You must not perceive your lack of polish or your thinness as shortcomings. Your neglect was not your doing. You were failed on many fronts, not the least by the men in your family. They were supposed to protect you.”

She took Sarah’s hand. “From this moment forward, you are not to make one negative comment about yourself in my presence, or I will never speak to you again.” She looked straight into Sarah’s eyes. “You are so much more than you see.”

The harshness of Noelle’s statement surprised Sarah. She swallowed deeply. “Are you always so outspoken?”

Noelle’s smile flashed. “It is my best quality.”

Sarah bit her lip. “I envy that in you,” she admitted. “My aunt saw boldness in a woman as an unpleasant quality. She would have found you shocking.”

Laughter followed. “I do love to shock.” Noelle leaned in. “I married a man in trade and stunned the Ton. Thankfully, I care not what they think. I love Gavin madly.”

A wistful sigh escaped Sarah. Now that she’d accepted her lot, she truly did want to be happy. She’d do anything to meet that goal. “Please tell me no more. Help me to acquire the happiness you have and I will be forever grateful.”

“I shall make it my mission.” Noelle rubbed her hands together. “I only have one question before we begin.”

“And that is?”

“Do you find your husband handsome?”

“I do,” Sarah admitted. “How could I not?”

Noelle nodded. “Then we shall start from there. It is hard to make a successful marriage when a wife finds her husband repulsive.”

* * *

I
could not know the depth of what I’d unleash when I agreed to allow you to teach me how to become a successful wife,” Sarah groused. It started with a brisk walk around Hyde Park to bring some color to her cheeks and led to a visit to a pastry shop for a platter of sweet treats.

Lady Seymour had begged off after shopping, leaving the two alone to complete the first set of Noelle’s instructions.

“Eat the last one,” Noelle insisted, ignoring Sarah’s scold. “We need to put at least a half stone on you.”

Knowing it would be futile to argue, Sarah ate the final pastry. The flaky fig concoction was delicious. “With you in charge of my weight, I’ll gain ten stone and Lord Seymour will need to widen the doorways.”

“Posh. A half stone will bring you up just enough to keep a brisk breeze from blowing you down the street.”

Minutes later, they left the shop and returned Sarah to Harrington House. After a quick hug, Noelle made Sarah promise to eat a hearty dinner and drove away in the Blackwell carriage.

“I do not know how I’ll be able to eat anything after a platter of pastries,” Sarah said under her breath.

After going to her room to freshen up her hair and remove her pelisse, Sarah returned downstairs and went to look for her husband. One of Noelle’s notions was to keep herself within eyesight of him as often as possible. He could not overlook her if she was always underfoot.

A bit of searching found Gabriel in the library speaking with an older gentleman. “Oh, excuse me.” She tried to withdraw. Gabriel called her back. He walked over and took her arm.

“Come, Sarah. My father is most interested in meeting you.”

Her stomach twisted. As head of the Harrington clan, His Lordship’s approval was vital. If he despised her, the rest of the family would follow suit. If he liked her, his acceptance would go far to ease her transition into his family.

Under Lord Seymour’s scrutiny, she froze.

Lord Seymour walked over and Gabriel made the introductions. Sarah managed a decent curtsy. Up close, Lord Seymour was quite handsome. Aside from the few gray hairs at his temples, he and Gabriel looked much alike.

“So this is my new daughter?” He took her hand and bowed over it. His smile was wide. “My pleasure, Mrs. Harrington.”

A slight nudge from Gabriel helped her find her voice. “S-Sarah. You must call me Sarah, Milord.”

“Then Sarah it is.” He looked down at his dusty riding clothes. “I am afraid we will have to wait until later to further acquaint ourselves. I need to have a bath and spend some time with my beautiful wife. Until dinner, then.”

He left them. Sarah watched him go.

“Your father is an imposing man, yet kind,” she said. Relieved to have somehow passed the first test to get into the earl’s good graces, Sarah’s stomach unclenched.

Gabriel nodded. “He was born to this life. My mother was penny poor when they met. Much like you.” He gazed into her face. “If anyone can sympathize with our circumstance, it is my parents.”

“How interesting that their story is similar to ours,” she said. This certainly explained the lack of judgment displayed by Lady Seymour when they met yesterday. She should have demanded the marriage be set aside as any other noble mother would have. “Well, I’m sure they knew each other for more than an hour when they wed.”

Gabe grinned. “My mother wanted nothing to do with my father. She thought he was a rogue out to charm and seduce her. Though that was his goal, he married her first.”

Sarah laughed. “You Harrington men are shameless. Do you always get what you want?”

“Always,” he said with a wink.

That bit of knowledge made her feel better. “Thank you for telling me. Though, it is impossible to believe that your perfect mother was once impoverished.”

“When Father met her, she was barefoot and wearing cast-off clothing.”

Sarah smiled. The image of Gabe’s mother barefoot and in an old gown did not meld with the countess’s current circumstance and perfection. Lady Seymour carried herself as if born into society. “Then I will take no insult when she looks aghast at my wardrobe.”

Gabriel chuckled and looked her over. “There is something different about you today. I cannot place what, exactly.”

She kept herself from smoothing her frock and dropping her gaze to the floor when he looked at her. Noelle insisted she show confidence with Gabriel, so she kept her gaze level on his, a difficult task indeed. When he peered at her with those green eyes, she was knock-kneed.

“Noelle took me walking in the park.” She touched her cheek. “I think the sun burned me a bit.”

“Your cheeks
are
pink,” he agreed. “Whatever the change is, I like it.” He pressed a quick kiss on her knuckles, smiled his devastating smile at her, and left her to sigh like a silly schoolgirl in his wake.

A brisk head shake snapped her from melting to the floor.

“Such foolishness,” she mumbled. “Noelle is correct. Men enjoy a chase. I cannot be chased if I am trotting at his heels like a besotted ninny.”

The image of her following him around with her tongue hanging out like a puppy did amuse.

At the moment there was little to tweak his interest. She was a stranger to him, too. And although he showed her friendly interest, he was not slavering to get back into her bed.

Nor had he once tried to kiss her again, the light brush of their wedding kiss aside.

What would his kiss feel like if she actually welcomed his attention? Would she like the press of his lips on hers? Or was she eternally doomed to frigidity?

“What a notion.” Of course she was not frigid. Just the sight of Gabriel in tight breeches sent a warm flush over her skin. And there was nothing frigid about the tingles she felt in her most private parts whenever he kissed her knuckles.

No. She was just too innocent of the ways between men and women. Thankfully, Noelle knew what to do to change everything.

* * *

O
uch.” The dance instructor, Mister Robicheau, released Sarah and stepped back. He glared, lifted one skinny leg, and rubbed his long-suffering foot. He did a half hop and faced Lady Seymour. “Countess, she is hopeless.”

Lady Seymour made a valiant attempt to hide her amusement behind a hand, and Noelle turned away to closely examine a painting of a fox and hounds.

Neither reaction gave Sarah encouragement. Her shoulders slumped. “I
am
the worst dancer in the history of dancing. It
is
hopeless.”

“See, even Mrs. Harrington knows she cannot dance,” Mister Robicheau continued unabated. His narrow frame was stiff and unyielding in his ire. “She has the grace of an ox.”

“Now Robicheau, you must not insult Mrs. Harrington.” Lady Seymour walked over from her place by the wall. “You know she has never danced before. You must have patience. Even a butterfly begins life as a graceless caterpillar.”

The instructor began to list all the reasons why the lessons were a waste of time: her posture, her foot placement, her failure to learn even the most basic instructions.

Sarah looked up at the ceiling where candles flickered in the chandelier and tried not to take insult with his rant.

The seldom-used ballroom had been aired out for the lessons, and Sarah was wearing a new cream frock and slippers. Yet, not even pretty clothes could change the fact that she hadn’t the expertise to pull off even a simple country dance with any sort of grace.

She
was
an ox.

Perplexed by all the steps required for dancing, she was about to beg off the rest of her lesson when a flash of blue by the door caught her eye. Her heart dropped. Gabriel, dressed in a deep blue coat, had a fist to his mouth, his eyes alight, watching his mother and the instructor arguing over whether Mister Robicheau could use his immense talents—Lady Seymour’s words—to bring Sarah up to snuff.

When the man was ready to call the day a waste of time, Lady Seymour offered to double his fee, and his voice changed instantly from annoyed to compliant.

“Perhaps Mrs. Harrington could learn a simple dance,” he said, albeit reluctantly. His pinched expression softened a bit.

Excellent. Her husband was witness to her failure.

She glanced at Noelle, who tapped a finger under her own chin. Sarah nodded, squelched the desire to run and hide, and jerked up her chin. Noelle indicated her approval.

“Shall we try again, Mrs. Harrington?” The dance master gingerly extended his hand.