The Wife He Always Wanted (9 page)

“From what I understand,” the duchess said, “you and your companions were singing a bawdy tune on our stoop sometime around six o’clock when our butler went to investigate the noise. Once he recognized you and your companions, he pulled you all inside so you’d not rouse the neighbors, and settled you in the parlor. That is where you were when my maid advised me a few hours later of your nocturnal visit. I found you snoring quite loudly in my new settee and your friends taking up space on my new rug.”

“I must have been curious about my new duchess-cousin,” Gabriel replied. Puzzled, he frowned. “I think I remember that sometime during the evening, while drinking copious amounts of cheap ale, I launched a plan to meet the infamous Duchess Stanfield. Unfortunately, my drunken condition did not allow me to consider the consequences of my behavior.”

The duke leaned back in the saddle. “If you wanted to meet my wife, Harrington, you could have sent around a card. We would have invited you and Mrs. Harrington for tea.”

“True that,” Gabriel agreed. “But now the duchess will never forget our first meeting.”

Her Grace shook her head. “Had you awoken the baby, I would have had you three dumped in the garden without ceremony. She is teething and I seldom get more than a few hours’ rest.”

Sarah and Gabriel congratulated the pair for their daughter. Sarah found the duke and duchess charming. She’d heard that the duke could be cross and overbearing, but she saw nothing of that side of his nature here. He and Gabriel carried the conversation easily, as old acquaintances, and the glances he sent his wife were warm and loving.

“Well, we must be off,” Her Grace said. “Our daughter only allows us short rides in the mornings before she demands most of my attention for the rest of the day.” She looked at her husband. “She has her father’s nature.”

The duke frowned and she smiled brightly. “Untrue,” the duke said. “I believe she has her mother’s stubborn demeanor.” They said their good-byes, spun their horses about, and continued their good-natured bickering as they went up the path.

“It appears as if Eva has softened the duke,” Gabriel said, turning back to Sarah. “He used to be a bear. I do not believe that I ever once saw the man smile.”

“They do seem quite happy.” Sarah watched the couple until they were out of sight. “How do you not know the duchess?”

Gabe shrugged. “She is a recent addition to the family. I will leave the story for Noelle to tell when she is ready.”

Sarah let the matter rest. It pleased her to meet them, but she regretted that their untimely arrival had interrupted a potentially romantic moment. Gabriel was going to kiss her, of this she was certain.

Gabriel clucked his tongue and the horse walked on. Despite her disappointment, he did not appear the least concerned over the missed chance to kiss her.

Insecurity filled her. Had she misread his intention? Perhaps the reason he leaned in was to brush an eyelash from her cheek, or a stray hair out of her face.

“It is nice to see a couple so happy in their marriage,” Sarah said. “All couples should be so blessed.”

He grunted. “Sadly, happiness in marriage is rare. My parents are an exception. It is best to enter into a union with low expectations so as not to be disappointed later.”

Low expectations? Annoyance welled. How low were his expectations when they came to her? Very, very low, she suspected.

She seethed.

He did not notice.

“It looks like we’ll have a fine day of clear weather. After two days of rain, sunshine will be a welcome relief.” Gabriel eased the carriage past a fallen branch.

“Yes, it will be nice,” Sarah mumbled.

“Winter is not far off,” he continued, unabated. “I look forward to snow.”

Snow? They were down to discussing the weather? Did he not notice her stiff posture or the tap of her fingertips on her thighs? No. He was too focused on the silly topic of snowfall.

Blast, she did not care if it snowed to the rooftops!

Defeated, her ire changed to frustration and a touch of sadness. With his attitude toward love and happiness, she feared that her marriage would forever be one of duty and not affection. Gabriel would never kiss her the way Mister Blackwell kissed Noelle, or look at her the way the duke and duchess looked at each other so lovingly, or touch her the way Lord and Lady Seymour touched when they thought no one was looking.

She was destined to be trapped in a loveless marriage, and there was nothing she could do to change her situation.

* * *

G
abe passed beneath an arch made by two trees on each side of the path and silently cursed the duke and duchess for ruining his chance to steal a kiss from his wife.

He was certain he’d seen the invitation in the softening of her eyes as the colors of the sunrise played across her pretty features. It had been a missed opportunity to take a small advance forward in his courtship.

When his shy Sarah had kissed him while he bathed, he’d realized she no longer saw him as the unshaven beast that had carried her off and married her without giving her a moment to change her mind.

She was making an effort to be a good wife. It was he who had hesitated. Wavering in his commitment to be a better husband had become commonplace with each passing day.

One day he wanted to become personally acquainted with her breasts, and the next, he was not certain what to do with her. He’d lied to her about their engagement and betrayed his dead friend by marrying her under the cloud of those same lies. Forcing Albert’s sister into an unwanted marriage, when he knew it was not what Albert wanted for her, still weighed heavily on him. The guilt of the betrayal was hard to forgive.

What would she think if she discovered their union was not the wish of her dying brother? Would she hate him? She should hate him.

He could have married her off to some pleasant fellow who would give her children and a comfortable life. But no, there had been something about her from their first meeting that drew him in and made him want to be the man who rescued her from her dismal existence.

It was the damnable need to prove he was more than the selfish and irresponsible rogue Albert thought he was. He wanted to be her knight, to prove to his friend, and himself, that Albert’s trust had not been misplaced.

Still the guilt of his deception was an invisible wall between them, difficult to tear down. Even when he lusted after her, Albert’s condemning face would come to mind . . . and between them.

“Will Noelle be visiting today?” he asked as silence strained between them.

“I suppose she will.”

The horse gingerly stepped through a puddle. “What is her lesson for today?”

“We will be going through the invitations with your mother and choose which will be my first introduction to society.”

“I thought we were launching you at the Hollybrooks’ ball?”

Sarah tipped up her face. “Lady Seymour thought it best if she introduces me to some friends before the ball. That way, I will know a few ladies before I’m thrown into the societal mire.”

“I see.” This conversation was strained. He left it to die and turned the carriage toward home.

Lacking the skills needed to make a good English husband, he longed for his days of adventure when a grunt or wink was all that was needed to get a woman into bed, the days when his life was much less complicated.

Hell, he was barely out of short pants when he’d made a run for the first ship out of England. Before that, he’d been incorrigible—his mother’s words—and unwilling to do much more than drink and chase women of loose morals. He’d had no pressure to beget an heir—that was Simon’s job—so he planned to spend his life avoiding virgins and their marriage traps.

Instead he’d turned about and shackled himself to the primmest virgin in all of England.

Gabriel glanced down at Sarah, her hand clutched in her lap and her back stiff. He knew it would take more than a grunt to get his shy English wife to climb willingly into his bed.

Albert’s last words knifed through his brain, and the image of Sarah naked vanished. He knew that the only way to assuage his guilt over betraying Albert, and to prove to his friend that he was worthy of Sarah, was to make her happy.

This was proving to be an insurmountable task. Was he up to the challenge? Did he want to win her?

On this, he was not entirely certain.

Chapter Eight

T
he street was filled with pedestrians when the hackney stopped in front of the
London Times
building and Sarah alighted. She paused on the walk and stared up at the façade, hoping within these walls she’d find some direction in which to start her search for answers.

A young man with closely cropped copper hair greeted her when she went inside and approached him. He introduced himself as Hiram Smart. “How may I help you, miss?”

Sarah straightened for courage. Once she began this investigation, she had to face whatever she found, without veering from her course, and no matter how terrible the information might be. Her father deserved justice.

“I am seeking information about a ten-year-old murder.” His eyes widened. She didn’t blink. “I do hope you can provide the information I need.”

After his initial surprise, he settled. “This is an unusual request, and I cannot guarantee the result you are hoping for.” He pulled off his spectacles and rubbed them on his coat. “We have many murders each year, and not everyone makes the
Times
. Do you have a name and date?”

Nodding, she reached into her purse, pulled out a small square of paper, and held it out. Written on the page was her father’s name and the month and year of his murder. “The victim was Henry Palmer. I haven’t the exact day of his death, but it was sometime between October second and the tenth of that year.” She knew this because Father died the week after her birthday.

He took the information. “Do you know where he died?”

“I do not.” She held out her hands, palms up. “My expectations are not great. I only hope you can provide me with somewhere to start my investigation.” At his curious look, she added, “He was my father.”

“I see.” He stepped back around his desk and laid her note down. “Our archives are extensive, but I don’t think it will take too long to find the issues from that week. Come back on Monday and I will have them pulled for you.”

Sarah smiled. “I thank you very much Mister Smart. Any help is much appreciated.”

With the task completed, her footsteps were lighter when she left the building. Mister Smart may not find anything for her, or there might be clues aplenty; anything mentioning her father’s death or similar crimes could perhaps be linked to his case. At this point she’d be pleased for a place to start searching for answers, no matter how seemingly insignificant.

The driver helped her into the carriage. “To Bow Street, please.” He nodded and they were off. Once there, she briefly met with a Runner who offered little about the case, nor seemed enthusiastic about digging into the past.

“It has been many years,” he said. “I do remember the murder was unsolved.”

“You remember the case?” How odd that the death of a secretary would stand out in anyone’s mind.

He nodded. “There was a significant amount of interest in the murder. Your father was both connected to Lord Hampton and murdered in Mayfair. It was many months before anyone felt safe to walk the streets unprotected. And despite calls for an arrest, the killer remains a mystery. Thus, I can make you no promises. However, I can see what I can find.”

“May I check with you on Monday?” she said. She could visit both the
Times
and Bow Street all in one day. Too many outings might rouse Gabriel’s suspicions.

“You may. Do not, however, get your hopes high.”

Disappointed but not completely off put, she thanked him and left. Though she’d not received anything useful, at least the two men promised to help. It was a place to start.

Until Monday, all she could do for now was to wait and try not to lift her hopes too high.

* * *

I
have failed miserably,” Sarah said and dropped onto the settee in a fluff of pink satin. “I could not entice my husband to kiss me even if I were wearing a necklace made of his favorite strawberry tarts.”

Noelle took a seat beside her and took her hand. “It cannot be that grim. Tell me everything.”

Sarah recounted yesterday morning’s events, leaving nothing out. When she was finished with the sad tale, Noelle stood, went to the writing table, and scribbled a note.

“Have you finally given me up as lost?” Sarah said, jesting. “What are you writing?”

Noelle ignored her. She called for a maid and gave her low-voiced instructions. Puzzled, Sarah waited until the maid scurried off to level on Noelle a curious stare.

Noelle shrugged. “I believe drastic measures are in order. I have called for assistance.”

Though Sarah pressed her for information, it was nearly an hour before the butler came to announce a visitor.

“Lady Har—”

An attractive woman, her sable hair twisted into a knot at the base of her neck, came hurrying in past the butler, as if she were being chased by snapping hounds.

“—rington.” The butler frowned and withdrew.

“Noelle, what is the emergency? Is Kathleen ill? Lord Seymour? Do tell me nothing has happened to Brenna or the baby.”

Noelle met her halfway. “Calm yourself, dearest. There is nothing so dire.” She took her arms and gave her a small shake. “Do take a breath, Laura, before you faint dead away.”

“But your note said there was an emergency and to come straightaway.” She glanced around the room, spotted Sarah seated calmly on the settee, and looked back at Noelle. She settled slightly. “What is this about?”

“I apologize for the clipped note. I know you have just returned from your country estate, but I had to see you.” Noelle led Laura to Sarah. “This is Sarah, Gabriel’s wife.”

Laura appeared curious, though not entirely surprised. She’d clearly already heard about the newest Mrs. Harrington.

The women exchanged pleasant greetings. Laura smiled. The smile tightened to a teeth-grit when she returned her attention back to Noelle. “Though I have been eager to meet both Gabriel and Sarah, Simon and I planned to call in a few days after we’ve had time to unpack and rest. Certainly introductions do not an emergency make?”

Noelle shook her head. “This is not about introductions; this is about fixing a troubled marriage.”

Laura stared. “I think you should explain yourself.”

For the next fifteen minutes, the clock ticked while Noelle quietly explained their predicament. After the tale was told, Noelle and Laura fell silent while the duo sat on the settee facing her and stared. Sarah, remembering the rule about not fidgeting in social settings, sat with her hands clasped primly in her lap while they took her measure.

Her burning cheeks refused to cooperate with her attempt to put forth a serene countenance.

Laura finally spoke first. “I do not understand your cousin, Gabriel. Sarah is everything a man looks for in a wife. She is pleasant, pretty, and intelligent. What else is he looking for?”

Noelle nodded. “I cannot agree more. I’ve been searching my mind trying to figure out why he is hesitant to pursue his marital rights. My only thought is that perhaps he is used to less, shall we say, innocent partners and is intimidated by her sweetness.”

“Hmmm.” Laura tapped her chin. “From what I’ve heard about Gabriel, I do not think intimidation is his problem.” She paused. “Perhaps he sees her innocence as a barrier to his more robust attentions. Some men tread cautiously where their virginal wives are concerned.”

“Yes. You could be correct,” Noelle said. “I had not considered that. And, do you think that for years his thoughts of her were sisterly, through the stories told by Albert in his letters? Those innocent images could certainly cool his ardor.”

“But he married me,” Sarah protested. “We had our wedding eve. Sort of.” She blanched under the unbidden image of her nightgown being pushed up and then, nothing.

“She’s blushing,” Noelle said to Laura.

“Therein lies the problem,” Laura agreed. “How can she play a seductress when she cannot even say ‘wedding eve’ without turning puce?”

They returned to staring at Sarah.

“Why do I need to be a seductress?” Sarah asked. She felt entirely lost in this conversation. “Are wives not taught to lie back and wait for their husbands to finish, then roll over and go to sleep?”

Two pairs of eyes widened. “Oh dear,” Noelle said.

“Goodness,” Laura uttered under her breath. “Noelle, you are correct to call for me. This is an emergency.”

Sarah’s comment had struck horror in the minds of the two women. Their faces made that clear. And she wasn’t entirely sure why. Everyone knew that beddings were for the pleasure of men, didn’t they?

Laura drew in a deep breath and rubbed her palms together. Her concerned expression matched that of Noelle.

“My dearest Sarah,” she said. “From this moment forward, you must forget everything, and I do mean everything, that your aunt taught you about men. First and foremost, you must know that a woman can find pleasure in her marital bed, with a husband who is unselfish and loving.”

Sarah flicked a glance at Noelle. “Is this true?”

“It is.”

Sarah slumped back against the settee and thought of her aunt and all the dismal things she’d been told about marriage. And there were many. “I have been misled.”

“Desperately,” Laura agreed.

“By an aunt who clearly did not enjoy her own marriage,” Noelle added. “Thankfully, you have us to give you a clearer picture of marital expectations. And they do not involve lying back and thinking about the weekly menu.”

They shared a nod. Sarah leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “If only it was possible to go back to the beginning of my developing years. That would be easier than unlearning all of her teachings.”

The chatter stopped. Then, “What a splendid idea!” Noelle exclaimed, and Sarah’s eyelids snapped open. “We must start from the absolute beginning. We must treat Sarah’s lessons as if she is making her debut into society not as a married woman but as a virginal miss. We will teach her how to entice a mate, watch for rakes, flirt and laugh and dance with men . . . not Gabriel.”

Laura bit her bottom lip. “Of course. Gabriel had his wife fall into his lap while making no effort whatsoever to court her. He must court her and woo her if he wants to keep her.”

“I completely agree,” Lady Seymour said from the doorway. “I have said the same myself, although I could not come up with a way to make it work.” She joined them. “My son needs to earn his wife to appreciate her.”

Noelle’s eyes lit up. Sarah braced herself.

“I have just the way to start this game.” Noelle rubbed her palms together. “The plan was to launch Sarah into society at the Hollybrooks’ ball. I propose that instead we bring her to the Coventry Masque this Saturday. I will introduce her as a childhood friend, come to visit. Masked, she will be free to practice flirting, speaking of current events with Members of Parliament, or just making mischief, whatever suits her.”

“I am not ready,” Sarah protested.

“It’s an excellent idea,” said Lady Seymour and Laura in unison, ignoring the protest entirely.

With that pronouncement, Sarah’s fate was sealed.

* * *

I
do not like lying to Gabriel,” Sarah said Saturday evening as she got ready for the masque at Noelle’s town house.

“Nonsense,” Noelle said and instructed the maid to add a bit more powder to Sarah’s face. “Lady Seymour gave her permission. There is nothing to do now but enjoy your first ball.”

“And when Gabriel finds out that I went without him?”

“You may lay the blame entirely at my feet.” Noelle stepped back and examined Sarah’s costume. Dressed as Anne Boleyn, wife of Henry VIII and once the most scandalous woman in England, Sarah was as far from the late queen in both style and temperament as one could be.

“This is a terrible mistake.” Sarah reached up to touch the headpiece covering her hair. “I should return home to my books.”

Noelle let out a long-suffering sigh and took her by her arms. “When is the last time you felt youthful and carefree?”

Sarah grimaced. “Never.”

“Then hush about books and going home to that neglectful husband of yours. First, Gavin and I will watch over you so that you’ll be in no danger of being seduced by some rogue. Second, we will have you home by the time Gabriel notices you missing.”

Meeting Noelle’s eyes, Sarah realized her friend was correct about everything. “I’ve gone from sheltered innocent to wife while experiencing none of the fun and frivolity most young women enjoy when launched into society. Oh, how I wanted to be frivolous!” A flush crept over Sarah’s face with her outburst.

Noelle laughed. “Tonight you will have both.”

Her friend’s confidence gave her courage. “Once my mask is in place, I will be anonymous, free to explore my first society ball without the impediment of doing so as Gabriel Harrington’s new bride, watched by everyone.”

“Brava, dearest,” Noelle said. “That is the spirit I like to see from you.”

“Then we must hurry or we will be late,” Sarah said. She walked to the dressing table to collect her mask and flounced to the door before she lost her courage. “There are men to charm with my saucy witticisms and flirtatious banter.”

* * *

T
he ball was in full whirl when Mister Blackwell led them into the house with his wife and Sarah on each arm. The house was lit with more candles than she would have been able to use for ten years in her cottage, Sarah thought, as she was whisked through the receiving line and into the ballroom.