Mr. North had surprised her by not showing much of a reaction at all. He’d fallen back on tea, which amused Sarah to no end. Tea had certainly solved a great many English dilemmas, had it not? And so here they were, making polite conversation in the drawing room.
She was a little surprised that Mr. Borden was still here. As the estate manager he was a retainer, but he was treated as family. From what little the duchess had told her, he had been with Mr. North since the war. Perhaps that explained his esteemed position in the household.
“You are very quiet, Miss Whitley,” Mr. North said suddenly, with the sharpness of impatience. She was surprised and fumbled her teacup, nearly dropping it. She sighed with disgust and forced herself to put the cup down calmly. She accepted the handkerchief Mr. Borden held out to her with a firm “Thank you” and matter-of-factly dabbed the spot of tea on her gown before answering.
“And what would you have me discuss, Mr. North?” she responded with a smile. “I have exhausted tea and the weather.”
Mr. North’s eyes widened in surprise and then the unscarred side of his mouth quirked with amusement. “Have you? I thought ladies were taught to discuss those topics at length with great animation.”
“North,” Mr. Borden said with ill-disguised warning.
“Sarah has been raised as a lady, sir,” her father said calmly. She was quite proud of how well he was handling himself here. This was the first time he’d had to negotiate a marriage for a daughter, and Mr. North was intimidating.
“I did not doubt it,” Mr. North said with a slight inclination of his head to her. “I apologize if I indicated otherwise.”
“Accepted,” Sarah murmured with a polite nod of her own. She secretly found Mr. North’s gruff manner amusing. She was tired of people who tried too hard to say the right thing at all times.
“Well then,” Mr. North began, setting his cup down on the table, “let us get to the heart of the matter.”
Sarah could hardly wait to hear what he was going to say next. “Oh yes, let us do exactly that,” she agreed with conviction. Both Mr. North and Mr. Borden looked at her as if they’d never seen anything like her before. Well, that was certainly not a first for Sarah.
“Tell me why you wish to marry me, Miss Whitley,” Mr. North demanded, and Sarah almost clapped in appreciation of his forthrightness.
“Now see here, North,” her father protested. “We have not established that Sarah wishes to marry you at all. We are here to determine if an alliance between you is acceptable.”
Mr. North nodded. “You are correct, Reverend.” He looked at Sarah with those eyes that seemed to see everything. “And is it, Miss Whitley?”
It took Sarah a moment to realize he meant did she wish to marry him. “Yes,” she answered, perhaps a little too fervently, at least based on her father’s frown.
“Why?” Mr. North sat back in his seat and calmly waited for her answer.
Sarah smoothed her skirts and glanced at Mr. Borden out of the corner of her eye. He seemed quite pleased by the turn in the conversation. She licked her lips and looked back at Mr. North, who was still intently watching her.
“I am the eldest of eleven children, Mr. North.” His eyes grew wide with astonishment as he turned his gaze to her plump, balding, mild-mannered father, who calmly sat there drinking his tea. “My mother died in childbirth and I have raised my younger siblings and run my father’s house for the last seven years. My father has recently remarried and my stepmother is expecting, and as I am twenty-four years old I felt it was time I married and set up my own home.”
Mr. North made no response for a time, as if waiting for her to go on. When she didn’t he leaned forward. “That is all very well, Miss Whitley. But why do you wish to marry me?”
So, he wanted all of it, did he? Very well. “Because, Mr. North, to be quite frank, you are the only man I’ve met who might be able to accept me with the mark on my face.”
Mr. North smiled, rather gruesomely actually, because of his scars. But Sarah didn’t mind. The unscarred half of his face was handsome, and she knew a smile when she saw one.
“And now I must ask you, Mr. North. Why do you wish to marry me?”
“Sarah,” her father said chidingly.
Mr. North waved him off. “It is only fair,” he said. He looked at Sarah, assessing her from head to foot. She felt the heat of a blush spread from her chest to her cheeks, one of the awkward traits that came with pale skin and blonde hair. “Quite frankly, Miss Whitley, you are one of the few women I have met who does not seem to mind my disfigurement.”
Sarah smiled grimly. It wasn’t much of a compliment, but she was willing to accept it as his reason.
“And,” he surprised her by continuing, “you meet almost all of my requirements in a wife.”
Sarah blinked, not sure what to make of that. “And those requirements are, sir?”
He waved his scarred hand in the air dismissively. Two of the fingers had been injured so badly he could not straighten them completely. “Immaterial, Miss Whitley. What matters is that I think we shall get along quite well together. If you agree, then we shall sign the papers and our betrothal will be announced at once.”
Sarah found herself slightly breathless. This was it. It was up to her. If she said yes, she would marry this hard, scarred man, live here in his house, bear and raise his children. This—he—would be her life. He waited patiently, as if understanding what was going through her mind. She examined him closely. His close-cropped hair showed signs of silver. His eyes were beautiful. Physically he was in his prime. She made herself look at his scars. They were white against his tanned face. But she was already used to them. They didn’t detract from his appeal, which lay more in his commanding manner and forthright speech than in his physical attributes. This was a man who would protect and care for her as his wife and who clearly admired her independent streak. Marriages had been built on less.
She nodded slowly. “Yes, Mr. North, I would be honored to be your wife.”
He smiled again. “Good. In three weeks time, then.”
And just like that, Sarah’s life changed forever.
Chapter Three
“Sarah?”
Sarah turned and leaned around the tree at her back. “Here, Papa. I’m over here.” She was sitting on a comfortable bench by the fence surrounding the pasture, watching the horses. Did Mr. North sit here, she wondered? It was a beautiful view, enchanting in its quiet simplicity. The pasture lay before her looking bright green in the sunlight, the horses dotting the landscape. She couldn’t believe this was to be her home. After today she would be Mrs. Gideon North. She felt a shiver race down her back. It was excitement, anticipation.
Today. Today her life would start. Today was her wedding day. Please let this be a good day, she silently asked. When her mother had been dying after Winnie was born, she had lingered for several weeks. Each morning Sarah had asked the same thing. She had asked every day since. She had compromised on what was and was not a good day over the years. She didn’t want to compromise anymore.
Her father sat down next to her with a sigh. They had traveled all day yesterday. He had wanted to get here earlier this week, but he’d been needed in the parish. He had been so upset, worried that he’d ruined her wedding. They had arrived at Ashton Park late last night and the duke had sent a message to Blakely House.
The duke. Sarah couldn’t believe she knew one, much less had stayed in his home. She had almost convinced herself in the last three weeks that her trip to Ashton on the Green had been a dream, that Mr. North had been a dream. But he’d sent her Papa some money so she could buy new clothes and a wedding dress. Her stepmother had been beside herself trying to get Sarah ready, and jealous that she hadn’t gone with them and wouldn’t be going this time either. The younger children simply couldn’t be left alone with their one servant.
“Are you sure, Sarah?” Her father reached out and touched her hand. Sarah turned in surprise. He was a kind father,
but theirs was not an overly demonstrative affection. “You needn’t marry him if you don’t want to, Sarah girl.”
“Why would I not want to?” she asked with very real bewilderment.
Her father cleared his throat. “You don’t know him. We know of him, of course, and we know his business, but that’s not the same.” He sighed. “I worry, my dear, that I might not be doing the right thing to let you marry a stranger and go far from us.”
“Oh, Papa.” Sarah impulsively took his hand and squeezed it, and he squeezed back. “I’m sure, Papa.” She looked around at the pasture and back up to the house, content with her decision. “I can be happy here, I know I can.”
“I don’t want you to feel that you’re being forced into this.” Her father rubbed his cheek. “I know that your stepmother… Well, she doesn’t mean harm.”
Sarah felt sorry for him. He was in the middle, wasn’t he? It wasn’t that Sarah disliked her stepmother, but she disliked being replaced as the woman of the house. Suddenly it wasn’t Sarah who was making the household decisions or caring for the children. And her stepmother was uncomfortable around Sarah. She tried to hide it, but Sarah’s mark upset her. It was best for everyone that she leave. “I know” was all she said.
She turned on the bench and looked at her father. “I have wanted this all my life, Papa. A place of my own, a family of my own. It is my decision and I think I have chosen wisely.”
Her father nodded. “I believe so.”
She looked away. “He could have anyone.” She was trying so very hard not to let her weak confidence ruin the day.
“Yes, he could.” Her father tugged on her hand and Sarah turned back to him. “But he was smart enough to wait for the perfect woman. He has chosen quite wisely as well.”
Sarah blushed with pleasure. On impulse she kissed his cheek. “Oh, Papa, I will be happy. I will.”
He patted her hand and they sat and watched the horses together until it was time to leave for the church.
———
The wedding ceremony was short and practical. Mr. North, Sarah thought with amusement, would have it no other way. She was almost giddy with relief when she realized the guests were few and seated behind them. She didn’t need to face his friends. She was pathetically grateful.
He had given her one more chance to politely bow out of the marriage. He’d asked to speak with her alone right before the ceremony and Mr. Matthews, the vicar, had offered them the small office next to the church.
“Miss Whitley,” Mr. North said, “I wanted to assure you that if you have had second thoughts during your absence, I will not hold you to our agreement.” For a moment Sarah panicked, thinking he was the one who had changed his mind.
Then he moved, ungainly on his crutches, to stand directly in front of the window, the bright morning sun on his ruined face. Sarah knew it was deliberate. He wanted her to see what she was getting. She looked at him in his somber wedding clothes of black coat and gray trousers, the width of his shoulders stretching the fine material, and the pinned-back trouser leg emphasizing the muscular thigh filling out the other leg. His look was direct, his mouth a harsh slash, the one corner turned down. She knew exactly what she was getting.
She made sure he knew too. Before answering him she removed her bonnet and moved to stand in front of him in the sunlight. She smoothed her hair back and raised her face to his and saw a look in his eyes that could have been fear before he could tame it. When she answered, his face wore its usual mask of bland unconcern, all emotion leashed. But Sarah knew differently. She knew there was more underneath his calm. And she understood it.
“Mr. North,” she answered firmly. “I do not wish to release you from our agreement. Indeed, I will not.”
He seemed taken aback for a moment and then an amused gleam entered his unusual eyes. It struck her that as composed as he appeared outwardly, his eyes would always give him away. They burned with a spirit that was anything but tame. A spirit that called to her own.
He nodded slowly in acknowledgment. “Very well, Miss Whitley,” he said. “Then let us get this business over with.” She nodded briskly, the picture of practicality. But when she walked back to the church beside him, slowing her steps to match his unsightly gait, she was rather sure he could hear the wild, nervous beat of her heart.
By the time they signed the register after their brief vows, the other guests had left the church for the wedding breakfast at Ashton Park. Sarah was breathless and excited and trying not to show it. She was a married woman. Married to the taciturn, scarred man who moved by her side. Chained to him for all eternity. Now, why didn’t that alarm her more? She grinned foolishly.
“I am glad to see that you are still smiling, Mrs. North,” a voice called out to them. Sarah was startled. She’d thought they were the last ones to leave the church. She glanced over and saw Mr. Borden waiting for them beside the carriage that had brought her and her father to the church. He was smiling at them both but his look was guarded.
Mr. North stopped abruptly at the sound of Mr. Borden’s voice. He started walking again without acknowledging the other man. Sarah moved with him.
“And why would I not be smiling, Mr. Borden?” she answered, curious at the undercurrents between the two men. Here was the most unfamiliar ground in her new life. What was their relationship? They were inseparable it seemed, and yet continually at odds.
“Gideon’s unsmiling demeanor has been more than enough to wipe the smiles from many faces,” was Mr. Borden’s wry reply as he turned to open the carriage door.
Mr. North didn’t like that one bit, judging by the stiffening of his shoulders. Sarah wasn’t sure she did either. “Mine shall not be one of them, Mr. Borden,” she responded coolly. “Unlike others who maintain a wary distance, I am close enough to see the smile in his eyes.”
Mr. Borden spun back around to face her with an expression of shock on his face. Mr. North stopped again and so did Sarah. He turned his head slowly to gaze at her with narrowed eyes. “My eyes smile?”
Sarah snorted. “You may frighten small children and animals, Mr. North, but you do not frighten me.” She raised an eyebrow, hoping she wasn’t taking her teasing too far. “Your eyes give you away. If you do not wish me to know how you feel, then I suggest you make every attempt not to look at me.”
Mr. North actually chuckled and a real smile crept across his face and then fell away. “Now why would I deny myself the pleasure of looking at you, Mrs. North?” he asked quietly. “I begin to have doubts that I will be able to retain any secrets from you, no matter what precautions I take.”
What an odd answer. Sarah felt herself blush at his insincere compliment. Pleasure looking at her, indeed. She humphed impatiently in response, earning another smile from Mr. North. She was learning. He appreciated her rather starchy, practical façade. No weak-kneed, whimpering ninny for Mr. Gideon North. So when she felt that way, she had best conceal it well. “I am not a mind reader, Mr. North,” she told him crisply. “I dare say a great many of your secrets are safe from me.”
Strangely enough he turned then to glance at Mr. Borden. But when Sarah followed the direction of his gaze, Mr. Borden had turned away. They resumed their uneven pace to the carriage.
“My apologies, madam,” Mr. Borden said rather stiffly. He refused to look at them. “I didn’t realize you had come to know Mr. North quite so well yet.”
Sarah couldn’t contain her slight, rather wild laugh at his comment. Mr. Borden looked at her then, unusually enigmatic. “Mr. Borden, I do not know him at all. That is what marriage is for.”
He reluctantly smiled. “Ah, now the mystery is explained.” His face blanched as he realized how his comment could be taken as an insult. Sarah did not take offense. She knew he hadn’t meant it that way, as if Mr. North’s reasons for marrying her were a mystery.
“Is it?” she replied, amused at his consternation. “Then you must explain the mystery of marriage to me as well. For I believe I have gotten mysel
f into a situation in which I have no practical experience to fall back on.”
They had reached the carriage and Sarah could see Mr. Borden’s eyes gleaming with amusement as he grinned widely, and beside her Mr. North tried to cover his laughter with a discreet cough.
“In the case of marriage, Mrs. North,” Mr. Borden said, offering his hand to help her into the carriage, “no experience is preferred.”
———
Sarah’s nerves were frayed to the breaking point. Mr. North’s friends and acquaintances had been extremely pleasant to her, but being the center of attention in a large group was not a comfortable situation for her. She had carried herself well thus far, she thought, but she knew she had to get away if only for a few minutes to gather her composure. She did not wish to embarrass Mr. North by running screaming from their scrutiny, her skirts over her face.
“Would you care to walk through the garden with me?”
Sarah turned to see the Duchess of Ashland standing next to her, smiling in invitation. She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. That would be lovely.” Reprieved, she rejoiced inwardly. The duchess locked their arms together and led her off down a well-used path, waving at Mr. Haversham as they went past him. Sarah watched Mr. Haversham as his eyes followed the duchess. She knew he was the duke’s closest friend and obviously was close to the duchess as well. The two times Sarah had stayed here Mr. Haversham had been in residence, and from conversation she had overheard, Sarah understood that he lived here at Ashton Park with them.
The sunlight glinted off the duchess’s dark, curly hair. Sarah hadn’t said anything, but in the three weeks she was away the duchess had grown. She was clearly with child and yet still very attractive. She turned her smiling face and caught Sarah staring. Sarah blushed but the duchess just laughed.
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