Chapter 2
As she watched her father slice his morning kippers, Sabrina Durning Lakeside, Lady Pepperdon and widow to the late, ancient, and not-the-least-bit-missed Charles Lakeside, Earl of Pepperdon, visibly shuddered. Not because of the kippers, though she’d never liked them. It was more to do with her loathsome father than his choice of breakfast food.
Snapping his newspaper as he chewed noisily, he grunted as he read, his cruel mouth twisting in distaste.
Biting into her toast, Sabrina waved to George the footman and pointed to her empty teacup. The young man moved to her side and filled it, stepping away silently when he’d completed his task.
“It has been nearly a year,” her father loudly stated, which caused her to start. “A year since that earl of yours had the bad taste to up and die.”
Not only die, but leave her in financial straits, with no choice but to return to her recently widowed father. They both looked ridiculous, sitting at the table in mourning clothes when neither of them truly grieved for those who’d passed. Sabrina had spent the past eleven years in a cold and loveless marriage with a man thirty-eight years her senior, a marriage her father had insisted upon when she turned eighteen. About the same time the old earl expired, her father buried his second wife, a frail creature who died in childbirth.
“What is your point?” she sniffed as she spread blackberry jam on her toast.
“The point is you cannot stay here any longer. The required period of mourning has come and gone. You must marry again.” He laid the paper on the table and cut into his kippers again. “And so must I. Any woman I bring into this house will not want my widowed, aging daughter skulking about in the corner like a spider.”
Aging? She’d turned thirty last month, not old in her book. “It is not my fault my thoughtless husband did not provide for me in his will. Or that his heir, his slimy nephew, would turn me out without a cent. When you negotiated my dowry, there should have been lawful assurances I would receive something out of this disaster.” Sabrina sipped her tea. “A small house, a stipend.” Happiness. Love. But why would she expect in her marriage what she never had growing up in this bleak house?
“Blame me, will you? I do not care much for your tone.” His eyes narrowed. “When a baron marries his daughter to an earl, it is expected that the blasted man will do the honorable thing. Well, I shall not make the same mistake again. I will aim higher and take all legal steps necessary to ensure I will not be responsible for your upkeep. You still have your looks, although the fact that you’re barren means you will have to settle for a peer who already has a grown family and no desire for another.”
Sabrina’s blood froze in her veins. Not again. She would not allow her wretched father to marry her off to an old reprobate. Death would be preferable. A bit extreme, but she would rather die than be used and tossed aside by another man old enough to be her grandfather. “No.”
His fist slammed against the table, rattling the dishes. He turned toward the footman. “Leave us, and see we are not disturbed.”
George bowed. “Yes, my lord.” He scurried from the room.
Slowly and with purpose, she closed her hand over the knife and pulled it to her lap while her father was distracted. It had been many years since he’d struck her, but she would not give him the chance to lay a hand on her ever again. It always started the same way: dismissing the servants. No doubt his second wife endured his temper, as did Sabrina’s mother, from what she could recall. Though her mother died many years ago, Sabrina remembered the pleas, and the sound of an open hand making contact with skin.
“Listen to me, you ungrateful slattern. By Tuesday next, you will present yourself in the parlor, wearing a gown showing your décolletage, and will greet the Marquess of Sutherhorne with a smile on your face and a gracious tone in your voice.”
Marquess of Sutherhorne? Her mind raced as if flipping through the pages of Debrett’s The New Peerage. Her heart sank. Another wizened, elderly man. Seventy if he was a day. She’d met him once, during a rare occasion in which her late husband had escorted her to a ball. If memory served, he had missing teeth and clumps of hair in his ears. And smelled of horse. “Why would he want to marry again?” she whispered.
“Why does any man marry? At his age, he no doubt wants you as a bed warmer. I have it on good authority that he has a weakened heart; he will not live long. I will ensure you are left with the means to live a comfortable life when he meets his maker.”
The urge to rage and scream nearly overcame her. Instead, she tried to keep her voice steady. “Father, do not marry me off to an old man. Not again.”
“You will obey me in this. I’ve waited long enough. I must marry, as I will be fifty-two in four months. I need to find a young woman and breed an heir. You will only be in the way.” He crossed his arms. “In fact, I have a young woman in mind and will have to act swiftly, before she is snapped up by a young buck.”
Sabrina stared at her father incredulously. Granted, for a man of his age, he was still handsome, in his cold, cruel way, and she suddenly felt sorry for any young, impressionable woman who would be taken in by his fake manners and smooth words.
“If you were not such a failure as a woman, I could shop you about the younger peers, but none would have you,” he continued, oblivious to the fact that his words landed across her heart like slices from a blade. “It is the doddering old fools, or you make your own way in the world.”
My own way? Sabrina didn’t have a blessed clue how to go about it. Regardless of her unhappiness growing up and during her marriage, she wanted for nothing. Why, she never had to do anything for herself, especially when married to the earl since he was rich beyond measure. There were maids and footmen aplenty to do her bidding. In truth, she liked being well-off, and reveled in the comfort and luxury. Hot tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away and swallowed hard. Be damned if she would show the baron any reaction.
“Why not allow me to meet men close to my own age? At least give me the chance before shuffling me off to another aged stranger. We will both be coming out of mourning. We can attend social functions together and assess the market—”
Her father held up his hand. “No, Daughter. I want you gone from this house before I narrow in on my selection.”
Sabrina clenched her teeth. “I am of age, a widow. I don’t have to obey you in this.”
The baron shrugged. “Quite true. Then pack what you came with and leave by the end of the week.”
“You would turn out your own daughter?” Her voice quivered on the last couple of words. There was no hiding her distress now.
He leaned forward, his expression hardened. “If you had been a boy, as you should have been, there would be no need for this discussion at all. Daughters are completely useless, except to give other men a son.”
Sabrina stood as a potent roll of anger moved through her. She slammed the knife on the table. “Yes, a calamity for both of us.”
“I will have your answer at breakfast the day after tomorrow.” Picking up the paper, he sat up straight and continued to read, effectively ignoring her.
She indulged in a bout of self-pity for a brief moment. The baron had never loved her. No one had ever loved her. Sabrina stared at her father. Why was he apathetic and unfeeling? Because she wasn’t a son? Or was he merely born this way? Or both? From what she’d observed, he treated everyone with cold disdain, from the lowest of servants to his fellow peers. Hateful man. She swept from the room and made her way upstairs, determined with every step to thwart her father’s miserable plan.
She would find a husband. A man with all his teeth, who did not have one foot in the grave. Surely there must be an unmarried male person in the vicinity willing to take her on.
A plan began to form in her mind. Her father was anxious to be rid of her. For that fact alone, he would be willing to make a monetary settlement to her husband-to-be. All Sabrina had to do was locate an honest man with a modicum of honor to agree to her scheme.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. She must make haste. Seven days was hardly enough time to find such a man. She’d not been to town in months, had not lived in this area for eleven years. She had no earthly idea what type of man she would find.
The middle class swelled in numbers with each passing year. There were always those in trade or public service. A professional of some sort. A solicitor. A doctor. Besides, this arrangement would not be for a lifetime.
“Mary,” she called out to her maid as she entered her bedchamber. “Lay out my dark green walking dress. I am heading to town.”
* * * *
Lord, how Sabrina wished she’d used the carriage. The mile walk proved how soft and lazy she’d become the past several years. She could send Mary back to the estate and have her bring the carriage for her return trip. The hot late summer sun caused beads of perspiration to trail along the valley of her spine. Tendrils of hair came loose from her upswept style, sticking to her flushed cheeks.
Emerging through a cluster of junipers, Sabrina spotted a fair-sized structure that appeared to be in a state of renovation. A wooden bench along the wall caught her eye. Thank God she could rest for a moment and catch her breath. Funny, she didn’t remember this building being here before.
“Mary, let us sit.” She motioned to the bench.
“Are you well, my lady? You’re red in the face and short of breath,” her maid asked, worry etched into her brow.
“I believe once we rest, I will send you for the carriage in order for us to continue our journey. I’m more fatigued than I thought I would be.” Sabrina sat and exhaled in relief, resting her head against the wall. Voices drifted out from the building and caught her attention. The window was open, and one voice stood out from the rest. Male, deep, melodic—and mesmerizing.
“It does not matter what you plan to do with your life. Do you wish to be a farmer like your father? Read books. Learn all you can about agriculture, animal husbandry, and excel at your chosen profession. But never stop reading; learn all you can about everyone and everything, if not to learn, then to allow your imagination to fly. How many remember what the imagination is?” Multiple overlapping and enthusiastic replies drifted from the window, drawing her attention even further.
“Good. With the imagination you can see ancient Egypt, the building of the Sphinx, construction of the pyramids, and adorn yourself with pharaoh’s gold. Or you may visit what Shakespeare called—”
“Was his name William?” a child’s voice called out.
“Yes. Correct. William Shakespeare called the imagination the ‘undiscovered country.’ What did he mean by it? Immerse yourself in another world. Escape. For what is imagination? The ability to form a picture in your mind of that which you have never experienced.”
Sabrina was completely enthralled, not only by the man’s enthusiasm, but by his gentle tone.
“Mr. Black, my da can’t afford to buy books,” a young lad said.
“Ah. That is why we will be starting a library right here in our schoolroom. Does anyone know what a library is?”
“A place you borrow books?” a girl answered.
“Exactly, Becky. Well done. I have brought five books to start us off, and hopefully once we get the word out, we will garner donations to permit the library to grow and flourish. It will be a school library. See the empty bookcase against the far wall? We’ll start there. You will sign out a book with the promise to return it in two weeks.”
A harmony of happy young voices all talked at once. Curious, Sabrina stood and turned toward the window, but the top of her head barely reached the sill. Standing on the bench would be too obvious. Instead, she stood on the tips of her toes. Quite a few children of various ages were sitting at tables, their bright faces all riveted to the front of the room. Unfortunately, from her angle, she could not see the honey-voiced schoolmaster who held her spellbound.
She imagined him middle-aged, wearing spectacles, with a receding hairline and a prominent nose. A kindly gentleman, educated, decent. One who might listen to her scheme?
“The first book is Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Who shall be the first to borrow it?”
The children all called out, save one boy sitting near the window. He looked down at his hands. “James? Would you not like to read this book?” the schoolmaster asked in a gracious tone. Blast, she still couldn’t see the man.
“I don’t read good, sir,” the boy replied in a quiet voice.
“Come here.”
The boy disappeared from her line of sight. Sabrina was wholly captivated by the doings in the room. The schoolmaster had complete control of the children, not with strict discipline and the threat of a caning, but with compassion, respect, and eagerness.
“Improving your reading skills is accomplished with plenty of practice. I am here to assist you. We will all help you, will we not, class?” the schoolmaster asked.
The children all nodded and answered yes.
“Shall we allow James to be the first to sign out a library book?” A cheerful chorus of affirmatives filled the room. “Well done. I see it’s luncheon break. Be off home and return in two hours sharp. Remember; take an apple from the basket on your way out the door. Alice, take one for your little sister.”
The room emptied out and grew silent. The door was on the opposite wall, thankfully, or the children would have caught her spying on them.
“Would you like to come into the schoolroom and have a look around?”
The schoolmaster’s close-in-proximity voice startled her, and she gasped. He stood at the window, but thanks to the midday sun, she could not make out his features.
“Yes. Of course,” she muttered in reply.
Clasping Mary’s arm, Sabrina pulled her along with her as she made her way to the front entrance. “Head to the manor and fetch the carriage. I will wait here for your return and then we’ll continue into town.”
Mary had been with her during her marriage, and had chosen to come with her when Sabrina returned to her father’s house. She was a steady presence in Sabrina’s life, had helped her through some of the darkest days of her desolate life with Pepperdon. It struck her that her loyal maid’s fate was now irrevocably tied to hers. If her father turned her out, what would become of Mary? It made her situation all the more urgent.
Mary raised an eyebrow. “Leave you alone with a strange man? I think not, my lady.”
“I am hardly a green girl in need of a chaperone. I can handle a meek schoolmaster. I’ll be fine, I assure you. Perhaps he will give me an apple.”
Mary smiled and headed off toward the line of trees. She waved, and Sabrina returned the gesture. Sighing, she walked around the perimeter of the building and, as she looked up, stopped dead in her tracks.
The schoolmaster was not a docile, plain man of middling years, but a tall, handsome young man who took her breath away. She’d never seen such virility before, never mind been in such close proximity to it. Her heart fluttered, and Sabrina was shocked at her response, for it was strange and foreign.
He dressed plainly, wearing a black frock coat stretched across broad shoulders, with a simply tied black cravat. No spectacles; all the better to see his piercing light blue eyes. His wavy black hair gleamed in the bright sunlight. Good Lord, he barely looked out of the schoolroom himself.
“Good afternoon. My name is Riordan Black. How may I help you?”
His voice, like melted butter, smooth and delicious. Could he assist her? She should leave immediately, keep her mad machinations to herself. But her feet would not move. Yes, the sight of a handsome man made her heart skip a beat—it still stuttered with an uneven cadence. Sabrina was surprised she even had a heart. All nonsense. The last gasp of long-lost, never-to-return emotions. They had no place here. Straightening her shoulders, she gave him a brisk nod. “Help me? That remains to be seen.”