A woman bustled into the room carrying a large tray laden with food. She was followed by a man, no doubt the innkeeper. The woman laid full platters in front of them as the man poured white wine into the crystal goblets. “If you need anything else at all, Mr. Black, let us know,” the woman said.
“Fresh bread perhaps?”
“Oh, blimey! I knew I forgot summat.” She scurried away.
“Mr. Beacon, this is my fiancée, Lady Pepperdon. My dear, this is Mr. Beacon, owner of this fine establishment.”
My dear? Fiancée? The words arrowed straight to her heart, causing it to swell with delight. She gave the innkeeper a polite incline of her head. Good heavens, she was a fiancée.
“A lady?” The innkeeper bowed, clearly flustered from the revelation that she was of the peerage. “Welcome, my lady. Anything we can do for you, the wife and I are at your service.”
Mrs. Beacon returned with bread and butter, then the couple left the room, whispering between them.
“Looks appetizing,” Riordan stated. “Perhaps not as fancy as you are used to.”
“The late earl did not care for grand meals. It does look appetizing.” She laid her napkin across her lap.
Riordan raised his wineglass. “To new beginnings. To banishing the past. To…independence.”
She raised hers and gave him a brief smile. “Hear, hear.”
“A small smile as well. My cup overfloweth.” He winked teasingly.
Sabrina was beginning to understand the difference between light-hearted banter and mocking, at least as far as Riordan was concerned. She cut into the tender poultry and took a bite. “Oh, lovely. It has been ages since I have partaken of turkey.”
Riordan popped a piece into his mouth and swallowed. “It is good.”
“Now that we are alone, can you disclose the amount my father settled on me? I will sleep better knowing the details.”
He didn’t answer right away, and a spark of anxiety took root inside her. “It’s ten thousand pounds. William is handling the details. As I mentioned before, we will visit his office and sign the papers before the ceremony.”
She let go of the breath she’d been holding. “Oh, thank heavens. I’m not sure how you managed it, but I am eternally grateful.” Relieved, she ate a few forkfuls of the meal. “I meant to ask: who was the large man with the red hair at your place?”
Riordan chuckled. “When did you happen to see him?”
Sabrina buttered her bread. “I confess; Mary and I went for a walk at dusk a few days past. I was curious if you had returned from your journey. Where exactly is home, by the way?”
“To answer your first question, the red-haired beast is my uncle, Garrett. He is only six years older, so he’s more of an older brother, really. To answer your second question, my home is near Sevenoaks, in Kent. My uncle has already journeyed home.”
“Do you mind if I ask questions?”
Riordan cut his potatoes into bite-sized pieces. “Not at all. Shall I give you a brief biography? I come from a household of men. My father is involved in factory work, my Irish mother died of a heart ailment when I was three. I never knew her.”
Oh. She was genuinely sad to hear he’d lost his mother. Feeling empathy for others—another sign she was reclaiming her life. “I also lost my mother at a young age; I was twelve when she passed. I never did find out from what. She had been ill three years before, never leaving her bed.” It still hurt to mention her. Because her mother had been absorbed by her infirmity and her deep unhappiness, she’d had little time for an emotionally needy daughter.
“She died at the age when you needed her most,” Riordan stated.
“Yes. When it happened, I became angry, feeling abandoned. How could my mother leave me alone with my cold, unyielding father? It took many years for me to realize that she did not die on purpose.” After swallowing a forkful of buttered carrots, she said, “A household of men. Sounds like the Wollstonecraft family. They live in Kent, I believe. Do you know of them? The patriarch is an earl…I forget his title.”
Riordan started coughing. Oh no, was he choking? His face turned red, and he snatched the napkin from the table and covered his mouth. He immediately drank a half glass of water until the coughing ceased.
“Are you all right? Shall I ring for more water?” Truly, she was worried for him.
He shook his head. “No. I’m fine. Thank you. A piece of potato became lodged in my throat. All is well.”
“What were we discussing? Oh, yes, I asked if you knew of the Wollstonecrafts.”
“Do you?” Riordan asked.
“No, not personally. But I have heard of them. There is silly talk of a curse with regards to them finding love or some such. I also read that the young heir had been involved with one scandal or another. They’re champions for the poor, always tied to one cause or another. My father finds them detestable—not that he knows them personally either, but he would scoff and sneer whenever they appeared in the newspaper.” She sipped her wine. “I believe he called them ‘smug, do-gooder attention mongers.’”
“Indeed? I know of the family, but not well. We do not exactly move in the same circles,” Riordan murmured.
“You’re of the middle class? Oh, I am prying, but you’re well educated, your clothes are of a fine quality. Mary heard your father owns a factory. That explains it.” Satisfied with the answers to her nagging questions, she enthusiastically continued her meal. Riordan grew quiet, but the silence was not awkward.
When the dishes were cleared and tea and a plate of raspberry tarts had been served, they were alone once again—this was the last time they would be before the marriage. She should say her piece and be done with it. “Riordan, may I be honest with you?”
“Of course. You must always speak your mind with me.”
“When I first proposed this—let us call it what it is, a mad proposal, I originally thought I could enter into a temporary marriage, and after the ceremony take a room at the inn until an annulment could be acquired. I’d have no contact with the man in question, I’d simply wait it out then move on with my life.” She paused, and caught Riordan gazing at her with an intensity that took her breath away. “You see, I wanted to use a man for my own gain for once, instead of the other way around. I did not expect to like you, Riordan. Not at all. I believe we are becoming…friends.”
“Yes,” he said kindly. “I believe we are.”
“This is not easy for me, conversing, being pleasant. If at any time in the next three months I withdraw, either physically or emotionally, please know it is not you.” Blast! A lump formed in her throat; confessing such a defect in her character had exposed her. As much as her vulnerability often rose to the surface, she’d learned to keep it deeply hidden. Why was she telling this man her secrets? A man she’d only known barely three weeks? Because he deserved to know. Riordan Black was sacrificing his life by assisting her in her plan. This marriage could damage his budding career. The selfless act humbled her. “You see, the only way I could avoid being hurt was to hide, in whatever way I could. It’s a habit I’m finding difficult to break. Mary claims I live in shadow, and she’s been encouraging me to step into the light. I will endeavor to try.”
“Mary means a great deal to you.”
“Yes. As I said before, she is more than a lady’s maid. She has been a friend, sister, aunt, and even a mother all rolled into one.” Sabrina glanced at her tightly clasped hands resting on her lap. “I would not have made it this far without her support.”
“If you wish to discuss your past, I am a good listener. It does take a weight off to talk about it; it makes the journey forward easier to bear.” His voice was comforting, making it tempting to confess.
Slowly, she raised her head and met his eyes; they were soft with sympathy. “I’m not sure I can ever discuss it, but thank you for the offer.”
Once they concluded the meal, Riordan escorted her to her door. Grasping her chin, he caught her gaze and held it. “Until tomorrow.” He kissed her forehead, much like a brother would do. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Friends and nothing more?
As he turned and walked toward his room, Sabrina experienced a sense of loss at his absence, for secretly she yearned for him to kiss her goodnight as a fiancé might—how had he described it? Deeply. Thoroughly.
Tonight she would dream of him. For that was where Riordan belonged and where he should stay: in her nocturnal fantasies. It would take all of her resolve not to allow her true feelings to become reality in the clear light of day.
Chapter 13
Lack of sleep affected Riordan from the moment he woke. At breakfast, he drank three cups of strong coffee—not his preferred hot beverage—hoping it would shake the cobwebs from his mind—and dissipate lingering images of Sabrina writhing with passion in his bed.
The kiss. God, the kiss. He had indulged in a few dalliances, kissed his fair share of young ladies. But the brief one he shared with Sabrina in the darkened alley made every woman fade into the mists of his past. Her hesitance showed she’d not been kissed much. Not with genuine affection. But she’d soon returned it, pressing her lips to his. He wanted to devour her, taste every inch of her hot mouth, but he instinctively understood he would have to be patient.
For he had no intention of keeping his distance. Boundaries be damned. He’d never felt this way before. Never would he have believed that he could find an emotionally damaged widow appealing—by her own admission, Sabrina was all that and more. Behind her protective wall, he truly believed that a passionate woman waited for someone to show her affection and attention. How he yearned to be the man to scale the barrier and hold her in his arms. Show her what true intimacy consisted of.
After all, he had overheard part of her conversation with Mary before supper. He hadn’t meant to; he was about to knock when their voices carried into the hall. Blasted thin walls. She spoke of damaged trust and deep-seated fears, wounded pride and lost innocence. It tore at his heart, yet explained much: the aloofness, the pulling away from his touch, and the fright he’d observed in her shuttered expression at various intervals. Her marriage must have been worse than he originally imagined.
But now a spark of hope flickered in his soul. “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.” His heart had soared at her words, proof that he more than liked her. Hell, he could even be falling for her.
He had less than three months to show her that the attraction and liking could go further. It would be a challenge, and one he should not rush. The fact they were becoming friends was an excellent start. Slow and careful would win the day. Yet telling lies was not a solid foundation on which to build a relationship. Last night at dinner he’d been nauseous repeating the factory story. Technically, he hadn’t claimed the ten thousand pounds came from her father, but he doubted that she would parse his words that finely when his deception came to light.
When Sabrina mentioned the Wollstonecraft name he had choked. Kent was not far away; could he manage to keep his identity secret? What a tangled web. Damn her loutish father for calling his family “smug, do-gooder attention mongers.” This from a man who could not even be bothered to sit on the local board of education. The baron probably spent most days in his study, drinking brandy, content to allow others to attend to societal tribulations.
He must be in dire straits if he sold his daughter’s wardrobe to the local dress shop. Sabrina did not suspect. Riordan would do all in his power to protect her from the truth. She would be devastated to learn that her father sold her not once, but twice. How could a man treat his only child with such contempt and utter disregard?
As he escorted the ladies into William’s office, he banished such disturbing thoughts. After introductions, they all took their seats, he and Sabrina in front of William’s desk, Mary in a chair along the wall, close enough to participate in the conversation.
“I have two agreements for you to sign, my lady,” William explained as he opened the folder.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Sabrina said, “but I would like to make a slight amendment to the settlement. Instead of twenty percent, I wish for Riordan to have twenty-five percent.”
Damn. He was touched by her generosity. He was about to speak, but William beat him to it.
“Lady Pepperdon, Riordan has indicated to me that he does not want any part of the settlement. The full ten thousand is to go to you on the day the annulment is finalized. This agreement reflects his request.”
She turned to look at him; her beautiful eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Oh, Riordan. You’re kindness itself. But you are making a huge sacrifice and should be compensated accordingly. You deserve it.” Yes, underneath was a woman of immense emotion, and when it managed to bubble to the surface, it made her all the more alluring. Though her vulnerability was appealing, so too her determined desire to move on with her life on her own terms. God, he admired her for it.
Taking her hand, he brushed a kiss across it. “You will need every last farthing for your new life. Allow it to be my gift to you.”
Sabrina did something he didn’t expect: she leaned in and cupped his cheek with her free hand. He closed his eyes, drinking in the warmth from her touch. Time stood still, as if there was no one else in the room with them. But there is. He snapped open his eyes and found William staring at them incredulously, with one eyebrow arched.
Riordan cleared his throat. “The agreements?” Sabrina pulled her hand away and faced William.
“Of course.” William dipped the pen into the ink and handed it to Sabrina. “Read them over. The first agreement states that the money is yours on the day the annulment is granted. The second agreement is signed by your father, claiming the money will be deposited here after the marriage takes place. All the arrangements have been made with the baron’s bank.” William slid the papers across the desk for her to reach.
“What if…what if the ecclesiastical court does not grant the annulment?” she asked. “It could happen.”
A small part of Riordan hoped it would be the case. Marriage appealed to him. He was not his brother. Empty affairs soon lost all his interest. It had not taken long to come to the conclusion that he would much prefer an intimate, long-lasting relationship. A partnership. Lovers and friends. But this was about Sabrina and her fervent wish for independence.
“It could, but the chance is remote. However, if it happens, there is a clause in this agreement stating that the money is yours, and no one else can lay claim to it, not even your husband.” William paused, inclining his head toward Riordan. “On the slim possibility the annulment is refused, Riordan will not stand in your way if you wish to continue on with your plans regardless. Your independence—on your terms. You will live separately, though legally married.”
The ramifications of this significant point hit home with Riordan. If she decided to move ahead with her plan to live by the sea, he would be left in marital limbo. There would be no remarriage. No children. No future with any woman, unless he took a mistress. Rather bleak, when he thought about it. His father and grandfather had certainly had one or two short-term mistresses throughout the years, and they were content enough with their lives. But they had been married previously, and were widowers with children. In his haste to assist her, he had not fully comprehended all the variables.
Sabrina must have been having similar thoughts, for she turned toward him. “You’re giving up far more than I realized. How utterly selfish of me.”
“Sign the agreements, Sabrina,” he encouraged. “I will have a full and satisfying life, you need not worry. This will ensure that you will as well.”
Taking the sheets of paper, she reclined in the chair and read the forms. As she did, William turned his attention to Mary. “Miss Tuttle, Ri
ordan would like to give you a portion of the pay that was owed to you by the baron. Unfortunately, the man refused to see to the obligations of your employment. Riordan will be reimbursed when the money comes through. Would five pounds suffice, with the balance of fifteen pounds and what you are owed for three months to be paid on the date of the annulment? Again, if not granted, I’m sure Lady Pepperdon will see that you are compensated.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chambers, it will be more than sufficient,” Mary replied.
Riordan glanced at Sabrina. Her brows were furrowed as she continued to read the documents. The room was quiet as they waited for her to sign. “I need to speak to Riordan. Privately. Do you mind, Mr. Chambers?”
William stood. “Not at all. Miss Tuttle and I will wait in the outer office. Though I must remind you of our appointment at the registrar’s office at noon.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
William and Mary departed, closing the door behind them.
“What is it, Sabrina?” Riordan asked.
She set the papers on the desk. “For once in my life, I’m not going to think of myself. I cannot allow this to go forward. I must admit that in my haste to escape my father and his abject plans for me I did not take in all considerations. For either one of us. This could go wrong in many ways.” She turned to face him. “You are a young man. What if you meet a woman and fall in love? You could never marry her if we were still bound together—if the annulment is not granted. What of children?” She shook her head. “We must call this off.”
Damn. After all he went through to get them to this point. “And how will you live?” he asked quietly.
“I have more jewelry to sell…and other items.”
“It will not be enough to live on for any extended period. You’ve broken with your father. There is no going back, only forward.” He paused, wondering what to say next. He did not want to force her into this temporary marriage. “Perhaps I can raise enough money….”
Marriage with a Proper Stranger Page 12