Chapter 11
Two days had passed since Riordan brought Sabrina and Mary to the inn. Sabrina had seen him only once, last night, to inform her he’d heard from William Chambers and they would be leaving by mail coach noon Friday. Reservations were made for two rooms at an inn near the law office and the registrar’s office. The brief civil ceremony would be held Saturday at noon, with Mary and Mr. Chambers acting as witnesses. There would be no music, no rings, and no solemn pronouncements before God. They would immediately return to Carrbury.
Just as well, since she’d already had a fancy wedding in a large church and it had led to nothing but misery. Also during this period, arrangements were made for Mary’s own room and employment. It would be an adjustment not to have Mary around day and night. She would come to Sabrina in the mornings, prepare her for the day, see to her lunch, and then return to the inn for her afternoon duties. In the evening she would come to Sabrina to prepare her for bed.
Sabrina took Mary’s words to heart: it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly and solicitous. Try and banish old fears. Could she do it when every instinct screamed for her to remain aloof? Especially after his show of temper with her father, though he deserved to be threatened. Her obligations to Riordan were accumulating at a swift rate.
Taking the silk bag from her valise, she spread her jewelry across the small table. There was a jeweler here in Carrbury; would he buy select items from her? Then she could pay Riordan instead of waiting for the settlement to be processed. Her fingers trailed across the pearl hair comb. As far as she knew, these were real pearls. A wedding gift from Pepperdon. It meant nothing to her, then or now. Surely it could fetch twenty pounds or more. Sabrina pushed it aside. Her wedding ring, a plain gold band. Again, it meant nothing. Not a fancy piece, but enough to garner a few more pounds, at least. Nodding, she laid it next to the comb. There could be enough to not only pay Riordan, but buy herself a simple wool dress or two. She would save the more expensive pieces of jewelry for later bargaining if required.
Sabrina had stayed in her room the past two days because she believed her father or the marquess would seek her out. Snatch her away. Paranoid, to be sure, but as much as she decided to move forward, old doubts still lingered. However, she would not allow dread to rule her life any longer with regards to any man. After scribbling a note for Mary informing her of her whereabouts, she readied herself for her departure.
It was another pleasant autumn afternoon; a cool breeze ruffled the remaining leaves on the trees lining the main thoroughfare. If she remembered correctly, the jeweler was located at the corner of the thoroughfare and Weldon Road next to the bakery. A few men touched the brim of their hats as she passed and she nodded in reply.
The pleasant odors of the bakery filled her senses. Baked apple and cinnamon, fresh bread. Perhaps she would stop in on her return to the inn and purchase a treat for herself and Mary. Pushing the door open to Davis and Sons Jewelers, a bell dinged overhead to signal her arrival. An older man stood behind the counter and gave her a polite smile. “Good afternoon, my lady.”
“You know who I am?”
“Yes, indeed. You are the widow of the Earl of Pepperdon. It is common knowledge that you have returned to the area. How pleasing to see you out and about. May I assist you, my lady?”
“Do you buy jewelry, Mr. Davis?”
He scratched his whiskery chin. “Well, my lady, I do. For select customers. I should reveal you would fetch a far better price if you sold the pieces in London. Alas, I can only offer a fraction of the going rate.”
Sabrina pulled the small silk bag from her reticule. “I assumed as much, Mr. Davis. I would still like to sell these.”
Taking out his handheld jeweler’s loupe from his pocket, he snatched up the pearl comb and inspected the piece closely. “Good quality pearls. Not the best, mind you.” He laid the comb on the counter and picked up the wedding band. “Hmm. I can give you ten pounds for the lot.”
“Let us agree on thirteen pounds, Mr. Davis. You will be making a significant profit here when you resell them. I’m desperate enough to absorb a loss, but not to accept an insulting offer.” She gave him a polite smile.
“Ah. Shrewdly bargained, Lady Pepperdon. Thirteen pounds it is. Will notes suffice?”
“Absolutely.”
The jeweler bowed and turned to open his cash box. Sabrina looked absently about the store, when the corner of her eye caught her father walking by the large shop window. She froze, and old fears surfaced once again. Through sheer inner strength she collected herself and hurried to the window to watch as he strode down the street. He entered the solicitor’s office. Blast, the one time she decided to leave her room she encountered her miserable father. Several minutes passed. Then she recognized her father’s carriage as it pulled up to the office.
“My lady?” Mr. Davis questioned.
She waved her arm. “A moment please, Mr. Davis.” Sabrina continued to observe, and minutes later her father emerged from the office, a large brown envelope tucked under his arm. Once he climbed into the coach, it was off, spraying mud and water in its wake as it turned the corner. Exhaling a sigh of relief, she rejoined the jeweler, taking the pound notes he held out to her.
Tucking them into her bag, she nodded at the older man. “Thank you, Mr. Davis.”
He bowed elegantly. “A pleasure doing business with you, Lady Pepperdon.” He escorted her to the door and held it open.
Clutching her reticule, Sabrina hurried along the walkway, pleased she’d spoken out regarding the price. In the past, she would have accepted the offer without uttering a peep. As she rounded the corner, a familiar and unwelcome voice brought her up short.
“Hello, Daughter.”
Sabrina gasped and froze in her tracks. Her father. But she had watched him depart!
“I saw you standing at the window at the jewelers. I had my driver circle the block. Out and about town? Selling choice pieces?” He stepped closer, a cruel smile curved about his mouth. “You think you have escaped your fate. But you haven’t.”
She glanced about, wondering if she should cry out for help. Cursing under her breath, she admonished herself for allowing fright to grip her. Her hands trembled and she clutched her reticule tighter. The baron took another step closer, and Sabrina took one in reverse as she tried to remain outwardly indifferent.
“Allow me to inform you of a salient fact about Sutherhorne,” her father said in a cool but steady voice. “The marquess is a determined and dangerous man to cross, and you and your self-important schoolmaster have stoked his anger. There will be consequences, mark my words. He does not forget—nor forgive. He exacts revenge.”
Blast her father for still having a firm hold of her emotions! “You don’t frighten me. Not anymore. I won’t let you. I am free from you at last. And that miserable marquess.”
He laughed. “You always were a foolish girl. As foolish and stupid and useless as your mother. Like most useless women, you need a man to support you, to keep you in the custom to which you have become used to. Well, the schoolmaster will not be able to dress and feed you as you wish. You will be living in a shack.”
Not for long. She would gain control of her own life, and she was tempted to tell her father of her plan. Instead, she sniffed dismissively. “I’d rather live in a shack with an honorable man than live in a manor house with you or Sutherhorne.”
“We will see,” he whispered ominously. When a couple passed them, her father touched the brim of his hat and gave a false smile, while he said for her hearing only, “This isn’t over.”
He continued along the sidewalk, not giving her a second look, leaving her shaking with both anger and cold fear. What did he mean about the marquess? The bit of anticipation she’d experienced for this small excursion scattered into nothingness and she continued on her way. She stopped in front of the dress shop—her lavender silk gown trimmed with white lace was on display in the window.
The garment had been one of many she’d left behind when she departed. Good heavens, her father had sold them? It is not as if he needed the money, considering he’d paid out her settlement. Then why? Besides being a penny-pinching miser and a complete bully, apparently he wished to erase every last trace of her from the premises. Again, her heart stung. Now hurt mixed with the anger and the lingering fright.
Dejectedly, she ambled past the dress shop and bakery and continued toward the inn. She didn’t care that her skirt dragged through the muck when she stepped into the muddy street.
“Lady Pepperdon.”
There was no mistaking the deep, masculine voice. Glancing up, Riordan hurried toward her. Lord, he was breathtaking, and the sight of him made her aching heart throb for a different reason. Today he wore a calf-length black wool coat and a top hat. The fashionable coat was a snug fit, accentuating his broad shoulders. It was tucked in at the waist, as was the fashion.
How could a schoolmaster afford such well-made garments? Perhaps he was not as poor as she was led to believe. Occasionally, she had the distinct feeling he was keeping secrets from her. Well, she would keep her own secrets—like meeting the baron on the street, for she did not want to rile Riordan. Or facilitate another confrontation between him and her father. A smile broke out on his flawless face, and try as she might to return it, she couldn’t.
Standing before her, he touched the wide brim of his hat. “Mary informed me you were walking about town. Is there somewhere I may escort you?”
Polite, kind, a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, at least outwardly. But she had witnessed the burst of violence from him. Could he be, deep down, the same sort of man as her father and the marquess? No. Riordan did not deserve her suspicion, as he was doing her a great service. He’d apologized for his burst of temper, and it was best she put it behind her. “I’m heading to the inn.”
Crooking his arm, he said, “Let us make our way.”
Take his arm? It would be an insult if she didn’t. Yet the thought of touching him for an extended period caused her insides to tumble with yearning. Steeling herself, she slipped her hand through, resting it as lightly as she could on his sleeve. Even through the coat, muscle flexed under her fingers. Say something. “School is out already?”
“Dismissal will be at half past three instead of five for the rest of this week, as a number of students are needed on family farms. It is why the board agreed to dismiss school at noon Friday—it will please the parents. Apparently it is time to make final provisions for the harvest, and there are other chores to prepare for the oncoming winter.”
A fair number of passersby gaped at them as they strode along. It would be all over town that she was arm-in-arm with the schoolmaster. In years past, she used to care about such talk, but since they were marrying on Saturday, it was hardly worth giving any mind.
“No luck with your shopping trip?” he asked.
Well, he wasn’t put off by her sullen mood, she would give him credit. “I lost all interest when I spotted one of my gowns on display in the dress shop window.”
He cast a quick glance. “How did that come about?”
“I left behind a trunk full of expensive gowns when I departed. I assume my father sold them. It cannot be for the money. It leads me to conclude he wished to erase every last trace of my existence from his home.”
“I meant what I said, Sabrina: don’t ever look back. No regrets. He is not worth your consideration in any way.” He patted her gloved hand with his own and the gesture made her want to cry. “I did bring the wagon; we could have brought the trunk with us.”
“No, they meant nothing. Remnants of my life with Pepperdon. I wish to start fresh, and that includes my wardrobe. Besides, many of the gowns are inappropriate for the sedate life I plan to live going forward.” In all her eleven years with Pepperdon they did not speak this freely—they hardly spoke at all. Sabrina decided to keep the conversation going. “I sold two of the pieces of jewelry I’d been gifted from Pepperdon. I wish to pay you with some of the proceeds. For the inn, the mail coach, any upcoming expenses.”
With a quick turn, Riordan led her into a darkened alley. Swinging her around, her back touched the wood clapboards of the building. He stood close, staring down at her. “Do not feel beholden to me. I’m happy to help. I do not expect payment.” Riordan’s voice was tender, but firm.
“I know, but paying you for these expenses means a great deal to me. It is the first act of my newfound independence. My new life. I’m already under obligation to you. This small recompense will lessen it, and ease my conscience.”
He arched an eyebrow. “It’s important to you?”
“Yes. I wish to do my share, pay my way. Will five pounds suffice?” He nodded. “Excellent. I’m relieved. You ask for so little, I’m glad to give a bit in return for once. In the future, if you wish anything of me, you merely have to give voice to it.”
“There is something I wish from you.” His voice was husky, sensual in its cadence. “I long to see you laugh. Throw back your head, laughing for the pure joy of it.” His gloved finger traced her bottom lip. “Even a smile, a genuine one, reflecting happiness and contentment.”
“I cannot remember the last time I did,” she whispered.
“It will give me a goal these next months,” he murmured. “Meanwhile, I will settle for a kiss.”
Sabrina blinked, not believing what she’d heard. Surely, he cannot be serious.
“A sweet, brief kiss, a gentle meshing of our lips. Nothing predatory or untoward, I promise.” He continued to caress her lower lip, causing her legs to turn to jelly.
“Why do you wish to kiss me?” Her voice shook, her tone incredulous, for she truly could not understand why he would ask for such intimacy.
“I have wanted to kiss you from the beginning, even though you annoyed me with your supercilious ways.” She sputtered in protest, but he ignored her and continued on. “Besides, you have eminently kissable lips. You appeal to me, Sabrina. You should know it now, in case you have second thoughts on our temporary arrangement.” He pulled his hand away. “I am going to touch your cheek, will you allow it?”
Her response dried up in her throat. How to explain that she’d never received a proper kiss from a man? Pepperdon had never bothered. The few she’d received from the old earl during the beginning of their marriage consisted of polite busses on the cheek. There was no affection in them, and when he came to her bedroom, there was no preamble before he roughly rutted her. Sabrina cleared her throat. “We are out in public.”
“The sun is setting; no one can observe us here in the alley. May I…touch you?”
Against her better judgment, she gave him a brisk nod. He removed his glove with his teeth, letting it drop to the ground. The warmth from his hand caused her eyelids to blink rapidly. “Soft, as I imagined. Like the finest silk. Your skin is glorious to the touch.” Riordan caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Slowly, he leaned in, angling his head for the kiss. As soon as his lips brushed hers, she could not keep the gasp from escaping her throat, for the contact was electric.
Riordan hesitated. Then he kissed her again, the barest touch. She had no idea what to do. How to react. This was the last thing she expected to occur between them. Perhaps she should follow his lead and return in kind. She moved her mouth across his, and now he was the one who gasped, though it sounded more like a moan. His lips were surprisingly supple. His scent was subtle, masculine, a mixture of lime and bergamot, no doubt from his shaving soap.
In slow increments, Riordan ended the kiss. Exhaling, he smiled. “Better than I imagined. Thank you.”
Her heart banged furiously against her ribcage. One innocent kiss had upended her world. Made it spin out of control. Blast, she should have never allowed it! Feigning indifference, she pushed away from the wall. “Shall we continue on our journey?” Her tone was aloof, the exact feeling she wished to convey.
Riordan’s mouth twisted into a half smile as he bent to retrieve his glove. “As you wish.”
They did not speak the rest of the way, and on the stoop of the inn, she opened her reticule and passed him five one-pound notes. “Thank you again…Riordan.”
He touched the brim of his hat as he stuffed the notes into his coat pocket. “Until Friday at noon. We will drop most of your luggage at the cottage before we depart. Pack only what you need for overnight. Relay the same to Mary.” She must have been frowning, for he added, “It was only a kiss, Sabrina. Tell me now: did it disturb or disgust you to such a degree that you wish for it to never happen again?”
Here lay the opportunity to dismiss this mutual attraction in no uncertain terms. To inform him in as cool a tone as she could muster that he was not to touch her ever again. Explain they were better off ignoring what sparked between them, and in three months they could depart and live their own lives, stay polite strangers and never think of each other at all.
She could not do it.
However, there must be parameters set between them. “No, it did not disturb me in the way you think. But you must see that this cannot happen again. There must be boundaries we cannot cross if this agreement is to work.”
Clasping her gloved hand, he brought it to his lips. With lids half hooded, he glanced up at her. “I will respect certain boundaries. But, in all honesty, I cannot promise it will not happen again.” He paused, his eyes alive with blue fire. “For there is nothing I wish to do more at this moment than to pull you into my arms and kiss you again. Deeply. Thoroughly.” He let go of her hand. “Good evening.”
He turned and walked away, leaving her trembling by the front entrance. Oh, she was hopeless. For there was nothing she wanted more than for him to pull her into his arms and kiss her. And there lay certain trouble. Or paradise.
Or both.