Rain from last evening still dotted the street with puddles and gave the air a damp feel. Fortunately, the clouds had dispersed and left the morning clear for their drive. By the time they reached Hyde Park the sun had already taken hold of the dawn and scattered pink and orange across the muted gray blue horizon.
“It’s unfortunate the grass is still wet,” Gabriel said. “We could walk by the river.”
“Ladies are not to soil their hems by walking on wet grass or through rain puddles,” Sarah said in her best and haughtiest voice. “Or so the countess said.”
Gabriel chuckled. “My mother and Noelle have made it their duty to teach you how to be a Lady, but I ask that you keep some of shy Sarah in you, too. I liked my country mouse.”
Sarah warmed beneath her cloak with the compliment and did not take offense at his choice of words. The title of country mouse had been hers when speaking of herself. And she knew he meant no insult by its usage.
“Training will only polish my edges. My aunt did her best, but she never spent time in society either,” she said. “I lived half my life in that little cottage. It is part of me.”
“Good.” He flicked the reins. “Too much polish ruins many an otherwise perfectly acceptable society miss.”
They found a quiet path and weaved their way through the park. Sarah was surprised to find such an unspoiled sanctuary inside the bustling city.
She smiled and drew in a deep breath. “You were correct. It is beautiful here.” She felt his attention on her and lifted her gaze. He was not admiring the sunrise but looking at her with something akin to curiosity in his eyes.
Under his attention, she clasped her gloved hands together to keep them from trembling as her confidence slipped away.
“London is home to several parks,” he said softly. “We can visit them all if you’d like.”
“I’d like that very much,” she replied. Her charming husband had returned. “I cannot believe how much I miss open fields and cows grazing unfettered across the landscape.”
He flicked the reins again. “I cannot promise you cows, but I hope you find London satisfactory. I know it can be crowded and loud, but it does have its amusements.”
“I do enjoy the city, though it takes some getting used to.” She watched a large bird fly across the path. “Remember, I was born here. London is part of my history.”
Gabriel nodded. “Excellent. I want you to be happy, Sarah.”
They fell into a companionable silence while she considered her answer. She was happy with some parts of her life and not so certain about others, Gabriel being first on that list. But she did have hope.
“I desire the same.” She met his eyes. “For both of us.”
Gabriel pulled the horse to a stop beneath a large oak tree. He set the brake and half turned in the seat to face her. Muted sunlight danced between the leaves.
He was so very close. So very handsome.
Had they been courting, Sarah might have found the moment romantic. Lud, it was romantic.
“Is that the Serpentine?” she asked, her voice husky as she glanced toward the river to collect herself.
“It is,” Gabriel said, his leg shifting slightly until it brushed her thigh. The contact, whether intentional or accidental, caused her to tense. The uncertainty of her feelings for him warred with the puzzling way her body reacted to his touch. It was as if she were two Sarahs. Neither was entirely comfortable with this one husband.
“Have I told you how fetching you are this morning?” He did not look down at her cream cotton day dress nor her stylish new matching hat. No, he was staring at her mouth.
“You have not,” she said, breathless. He leaned forward and she did the same. He was going to kiss her!
“Ho, Harrington!” The voice startled them apart. Both Gabriel and Sarah twisted to see a man and woman come up behind them on the path. The pair was seated atop a set of fine horses.
“Who is it?” Sarah whispered.
“The Duke and Duchess Stanfield.”
Sarah had no time to register the names when the couple pulled to a stop beside the carriage. Up close, they were a handsome couple. The duchess’s amber eyes bespoke her identity. She was somehow related to Noelle, and a Harrington.
“Your Graces.” Gabriel tipped his hat to the duchess, before indicating the duke. “It has been a long time, Your Grace.”
“It’s been years, Harrington,” His Grace replied. Both the duke and duchess glanced at Sarah. They were not surprised to see her with Gabriel. Noelle most likely had told them all about her and how she and Gabriel met and married.
Gabriel introduced them.
“My pleasure, Your Graces,” Sarah said. She knew the pair were Harrington cousins, in some fashion, and that Noelle was particularly close to the duchess. How close, Noelle had yet to confide, but she suspected there was an interesting story behind their kinship. As a new member of the family, Sarah had yet to learn all their secrets.
“We have heard all about you, Mrs. Harrington,” Her Grace said. Her hair framed her smiling face. She was beautiful, no less so than her husband. He was quite handsome. The Harrington women had excellent taste in spouses. “Noelle has spoken highly of you.”
The duchess cast a narrowed glance at Gabriel. “I see you have recovered from your . . . illness, Mister Harrington. I hope your friends have done the same.”
Sarah pressed a hand to her lips to hide a smile, while the duchess took Gabriel to task for his drunken and unwelcome arrival at her door.
Smiling sheepishly, Gabriel nodded. “Once again, I do apologize for my behavior. I truly have no idea how I ended up at Collingwood House.”
“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.
* * *
Gabe 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
The 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.”
The Wife He Always Wanted Page 9