The Wife He Always Wanted
Page 15
“What a delight to see you again, Lady Hollybrook, Lord Hollybrook.” He released her and turned to Sarah. “This is my wife, Sarah, Mrs. Harrington.”
Sarah bowed to her hosts.
The Lady took both of Sarah’s hands while her tall and lanky husband looked on. Clearly His Lordship allowed his wife to speak for both of them. “Mrs. Harrington, I am delighted that you have chosen our little party to make your societal debut. Your husband’s reappearance and your marriage have been all the gossips have spoken of since your arrival in town.”
“I do hope the news has been favorable?” Sarah said with an exaggerated sober mien. “We’d hate to disappoint.”
Lady Hollybrook clapped her hands and laughed. “Why, you are a delight, Mrs. Harrington. Of course, the information was speculation and servant gossip until now. I expect that by the end of the night, the old crows will have something truly scandalous to twitter about you tomorrow.”
Sarah reclaimed Gabriel’s arm. “Then let us be about setting tongues to wagging.”
* * *
Gabe chuckled as Lady Hollybrook’s laughter followed them off to the ballroom. “Well done, Wife. We have barely removed our coats and you have already made one successful conquest.”
The hand on his arm gripped tightly and confirmed she was not as confident as her banter portrayed. In fact, he suspected that she was considering a bolt for the door.
“I thought I might faint. Thankfully, Lady Hollybrook is easily charmed, or my attempt to be witty may have fallen flat.”
He looked down, his eyes enough above her to have a full view of the delightful swell of her breasts. His lower extremities took notice, too. If not for the crush eliminating any chance of privacy, he might have dragged her behind a screen and made free with his hands over, and inside, her bodice.
If the night went as he hoped, he might turn his comfortable marriage in an entirely different direction.
“The Lady will spend the rest of the evening championing you to anyone who will listen and boasting about what a coup it was for her to officially launch you into society.”
“Noelle will be pleased if I become celebrated.” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “She will consider that her coup.”
Gabe led her in a turn around the room. Curious eyes followed them. He thought he recognized several faces, but years had faded some names in his mind. He needed to find his parents before he insulted someone with a wrong name or title.
“You do not want to be top-notch?” he teased, well knowing the answer was no.
She placed a hand on her stomach. “I want to get through the evening without casting up my accounts in our hostess’s expensive Chinese vases.”
Grimacing, he nodded. “You would not be incomparable but you would certainly be memorable. However, I think it would not be the kind of infamy for which you’d want to aspire.”
Sarah’s violet eyes softened. “Your family has been so kind to me. I’d rather not do anything to ruin their good name.”
Gabe snorted. “You think a few minutes publicly bent over a vase would ruin the Harringtons’ good name? We have an entire family history filled with blackguards and ne’er-do-wells who’ve done far worse. And if family tales hold true, we’ve even had a pirate or two. My dear, you must reach higher than a queasy stomach if you desire to be remembered as a scandalous Harrington.”
A gloved hand went to her mouth to hide a smile. “I now understand where you inherited your roguish nature. It has been bred into you through many generations.”
The light dancing in her eyes made him grin. His wife was becoming a delightful companion.
She leaned in. Her neckline gaped open just enough to draw his attention to her cleavage. “I suspect that no amount of scolding will keep our sons from following in your scandalous boot steps. I can only pray our daughters will have more sedate temperaments.”
Sons? Daughters? The idea of having children with Sarah, or rather making children with her, left him eager to push forward with the courtship of his wife. By the time he bedded her he would have her full participation.
“There is only one way to make children,” he said, after bending to her ear. “If you’d like I can call for the coach to take us home and we can start making our family tonight.”
A flush started at her neckline and quickly spread up to her cheeks. Her left eye twitched, she stopped breathing, and her gaze dropped to the floor.
Disappointment welled. It was as he expected. Though she’d suffered his attentions on their wedding eve, and she flirted with him, shamelessly, his wife was still apprehensive of joining him in his bed. He had to be patient, even if it was growing more difficult every day.
He lifted her chin and held her gaze. “Shall we dance?”
Relief flooded her face. “I would love to dance.”
Gabe led her onto the dance floor, and within minutes the tension left her body and she laughed lightly at her attempts not to tread upon his toes. After the cotillion ended, they found his parents and began the arduous process of meeting what he was sure was everyone in attendance at the ball.
Noelle and Mister Blackwell and Eva and the duke arrived shortly after, with a tale about a broken wheel causing their delay, and the party truly began in earnest.
Although Gabe enjoyed renewing old acquaintances and greeting friends and family, his eyes were on his wife. She was largely unpolished and entirely without guile; and she was utterly charming. Her occasional shyness was not a detriment in the least. Her honest nature drew people to her. By the time the first hour passed, he was certain that Noelle was right. Despite his wife’s protests to the contrary, he realized she was, and always would be . . . incomparable.
Chapter Thirteen
I cannot believe I danced the entire evening without damaging any feet,” Sarah said, wriggling her tired toes inside her slippers. Her back ached and her face was tight from smiling. All in all, the night had been great fun.
The coach rambled back toward Harrington House amid quiet conversation and squelched yawns.
“You did well, my dear,” Lady Seymour said. “I heard no complaints about your dancing prowess.”
“Everyone, save Mrs. Spaulding and Mrs. Dubury, were so kind,” Sarah said and glanced at Gabriel. “I understand from Noelle that Mrs. Spaulding desired a match between you and her daughter, Minerva, and kept the poor girl refusing other suitors these last five years while waiting for your return.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Mrs. Spaulding is an overbearing witch who hoped to snag Gabriel for no other reason than our wealth,” Lady Seymour groused. “When not plotting a wedding between her daughter and our son, she says horrible things about our family.”
“She does know how to wield her saberlike tongue,” Gabriel said, still frowning over Sarah’s comment. “Never would I have considered taking Minerva as my wife. Her laugh is like a braying donkey, poor girl.”
Lord Seymour placed his hand over his wife’s. “When we first married, she called Lady Seymour a grasping milkmaid who had no business in society and should keep to chasing cows.”
“Oh, how horrible,” Sarah said, aghast. She glanced at Gabriel, who fought to keep from laughing.
It was Lord Seymour who chuckled first. The countess glared at her husband.
“Lady Seymour responded by agreeing that she knew all about cows. She then informed Mrs. Spaulding that her own sour disposition was the direct result of spending too much time in the field eating grass and not enough milking.”
Sarah lost her composure. She, Gabriel, and His Lordship laughed wholeheartedly while Lady Seymour briskly fanned herself and fidgeted in the seat.
“It was not my proudest moment,” she said as her lips twitched. “Truthfully, I truly think she hoped to marry her daughter into my family so she could torment me into an early grave, for likening her to a bovine.”
When they arrived and said their goodnights, Gabriel took Sarah’s hand and led her up the stairs. Her feet silently begged for relief. The night had been long.
“Did you enjoy your first official ball?” he asked and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Very much so.” She enjoyed the feel of their fingers linked together. His hands were warm through her gloves. “I thank you for staying by my side all evening when I wasn’t dancing. I think your presence kept the gossipy matrons from shredding me apart.”
Gabriel drew her to a stop outside of her door. He turned her and took both her hands. “I had to stay close lest another man spirit you away. There were several men who were smitten. I’m quite certain Lancelot Cameron will be perched on our doorstep tomorrow spouting poetry and begging you to run off with him.”
Sarah scanned his face and a shiver went through her. He was so close and she ached to touch him. “You jest. There were many beautiful women in attendance who had men chasing them around the ballroom. I was just one in the crowd.”
He smiled in the dim light from a nearby sconce. “Then perhaps it was only me who was smitten.”
Realizing his intention, Sarah’s lips parted as he slowly lowered his face, her heart quickening. When his lips brushed against hers, she leaned in. He released her hands to span her waist and pull her against him.
Lifting his head, he smiled into her eyes and lowered his mouth again. What had begun with a mere brush of his warm lips deepened when he reclaimed her mouth for a second time. He tipped his head slightly and teased her with the tip of his tongue. She eagerly opened up for him.
The effect of his invasion into her mouth was breathtaking. He pulled her to his chest, overwhelming her with his embrace, this powerful male. She reached to put her arms around his neck and melted against his hard body.
She kissed him back with the innocent enthusiasm of her curiosity, learning from his lead. He groaned, taking her closer until they were one. The kiss went on until footsteps were heard on the staircase.
Gabriel lifted his head and stared into her eyes. He blinked to clear his mind.
“Good night, Sarah,” he said and reluctantly released her. With one last touch to the side of her face, he waited while she entered her room and closed the door. She heard his valet’s voice through the closed panel.
With a soft smile, she leaned against the doorframe and touched her mouth. In that moment, with that incredible kiss, Sarah knew her life, and her marriage, had changed forever.
* * *
Benning undressed him with quiet efficiency. Gabe’s thoughts lingered on the image of Sarah’s face when he’d broken the kiss. The sweet innocence of her expression and the softness of her eyes belied her passionate and heated response to the simple and incomplete seduction.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No. Thank you, Benning.”
When he was alone, Gabe stretched out on the bed, fighting everything within him not to walk across the hall and take his wife to bed. He’d just knocked down a large part of her protective wall. Soon enough, he would finish the job and she would be fully his.
He grinned. Gabe truly never expected such passion from his wife. After their dismal first attempted coupling, he’d thought the best he could expect in bed was perhaps some moderate affection. What happened in the hallway had been a surprise, probably for both of them. He’d certainly not seen a hint of her passionate nature until then, and he’d been taken aback by the moment.
The kiss at the masque had been more about power than passion. Tonight it was about seduction.
Sarah had more than enjoyed his kisses. He felt her desire through every part of her body. She’d discovered a side of herself she did not know or understand. He would teach her to command control of her desires and enjoy the fruits of her awakening.
Still, one question remained. How long would it take before she unleashed her newfound passion?
* * *
Morning came when Flora opened the drapes and offered her a cheerful greeting. “I thought to let you sleep but knew you’d want to join your husband for breakfast.”
Sarah stretched from her fingertips to her toes. “I do.” The desire for laziness fled. She wanted to see Gabriel’s face.
Flora turned from the wardrobe with a pale green day dress in hand as Sarah scrambled from the bed, padded barefoot to the dressing table, and dropped onto the stool. She dabbed a bit of perfume behind her ears and between her breasts.
“We must hurry,” she said. At the maid’s curious look, she shrugged. “I am famished.”
Dressing quickly, her toilet was completed before the clock hand made a quarter turn. Sarah lifted her hem and rushed from the room and down the staircase, only slowing as she arrived outside the breakfast room.
She took a few deep breaths for calm and walked in as if she had not hurried. Thankfully, Gabriel had not left for the day. He was reading the newspaper with Lord Seymour. She barely noticed the earl. Her husband appeared to have suffered the same sleepless night she had. He appeared a bit weary around his eyes.
Her gaze hungrily scanned his face.
“Good morning, Lord Seymour, Gabriel.” She walked to the sideboard, casting a glance over her shoulder at her husband. He peered at her over the paper, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Her stomach fluttered.
“Good morning, Sarah,” Lord Seymour replied. Sarah filled her plate and joined them. She looked across the table to the empty seat.
“Lady Seymour will not be joining us?”
“My wife threatened beheading for the first person who awakened her this morning. The maids, and I, were too afraid to tempt fate. We will leave her to her rest.”
Taking a few minutes to eat, Sarah watched Gabriel read the paper, catching his occasional glance in her direction. She did not need to see his smile to know it was there when he looked at her. The crinkles gave him away.
“What are your plans for the day, Son?”
Gabriel put down the paper. “Sarah and I are going out. We have some business to attend to.”
“We do?” She put down her fork. “Where are we going?”
“It is a surprise.” He pushed aside the paper and finished his coffee. “As soon as you are ready, we will be off.”
Sarah took a few last bites and washed them down with a generous swallow of tea. “I will get my boots.”
Gabriel met her in the entryway a few minutes later and helped her into her pelisse. “Will you give me a hint of our destination?” she asked.
“I will not.” He led her out and helped her into a waiting carriage. The day was cool but Sarah barely noticed. Her curiosity kept her mind occupied.
The ride took them to a quiet street some distance from the Harrington manor house, in a modest neighborhood on the edge of Mayfair. Gabriel pulled up in front of a three-story town house and set the brake. She scanned the brick façade with her gaze and felt a tug in the back of her mind.
“There is something familiar about this house.” Her eyes narrowed. She looked up to the second floor and saw the pale pink of a faded curtain in the window. Her stomach lurched. “I was born here.”
“You were.” Gabriel climbed from the carriage and helped her down. “I did some investigation into your father’s financial dealings and discovered that with Albert’s passing, this town house now belongs to you.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly?”
“Yes, truly.” He took her hand. “I am certain the old place needs attention. The house has stood empty for ten years. However, with a thorough cleaning and airing out, it will soon be fit for habitation.”
Gabriel pulled a key from his pocket and handed it to her. She happily opened the door and they went inside. She p
aused in the foyer as memories tugged. “Albert used to chase me up those stairs with a jar full of spiders, or a beetle, or whatever scary creature he could find in the garden.”
“Albert enjoyed a good prank,” Gabriel agreed. They crossed the foyer, kicking up dust as they went. “He once stole my horse and left me to walk five miles to town.”
“He was horrible,” Sarah said, smiling. “I miss him.”
Grime covered everything, and the stale scent of neglect filled her senses. She wrinkled her nose. “It will take a full dozen maids a week to clean up the dust alone.”
“They will arrive soon.”
Sarah peered up. Gabriel shrugged. “The sooner the work gets started, the sooner you can decide what is to be done with this town house. It should not sit empty forever.”
Frowning, Sarah said, “As my husband, this house is yours. I have no right to make decisions regarding its future.”
He shook his head. “This house, your father’s pension, and whatever accounts he left behind belong to you.”
The kindness warmed her. She lifted to her toes and kissed him. “Thank you.” With a happy sound, she hurried into the first room. Someone, likely the servants, had covered the furniture with sheets before they closed up the house. From there, she raced from room to room, floor to floor, drawing together snippets of happy memories as she went.
“I used to hide in there when I wanted to spy on Albert,” she said, indicating a small closet across from his bedroom.
“This was my room,” she said, pushing the door open to a pink and white bedroom that overlooked the street. “The bed is so tiny.”
A hint of rising melancholia remained acceptably tamped down by her happiness until they walked into the master’s bedroom. Then her exploration came to a halt and sadness forced its way forth. A painting of her parents hung over the large bed. “They looked very much in love. I wonder if it was painted soon after their wedding.”