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Taking a deep breath, Christopher said, “Lady Sarah Denham.”

“Bully! A real lady?” Deb exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Margaret pursed her lips and appeared thoughtful. “Isn’t that the young woman who used to live here? I believe every servant has mentioned her name at least a dozen times since we arrived. She is much beloved.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes, she is the daughter of the Earl of Manders.”

“How exciting! Was it a whirlwind romance, Chris?” Deb asked eagerly, her hands resting on her bouncing knees. “When did you meet her? Where did you propose? Tell us everything. Was it terribly romantic?”

Christopher sighed. His sisters would not appreciate the truth, nor the sacrifices he was taking upon himself to make way for their welfare and his own stupid pride.

For half a moment, he contemplated prevaricating, but the truth always came out in the end.

“I have only met Lady Sarah twice; however, we decided that a union between us would be in both of our best interests.”

“Oh,” Margaret said, slumping back in her chair. “I suppose you know what is best, Brother. But should you not have some warm feelings for her? Some affection before marriage?”

“Ours will be a marriage of convenience, which is quite normal among the upper classes.”

“I hate her already,” Deb declared, standing up and stomping her foot. “How could you be so stupid as to marry without love?”

“I am not being stupid,” Christopher said between clenched teeth.

“I am being practical, and if we want to join the ton , to be a part of the highest echelons of London Society, we need a family connection to the nobility. Lady Sarah’s connections are among the highest in all of England.

She can arrange for you both to be presented before Queen Charlotte.

It is everything and more than Papa hoped for, for all of us. ”

Margaret stood too and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you promised Papa you would find us grand matches, but I am sorry you are to be sacrificed for our father’s social pretentions. Deb and I only want you to be happy.”

“It’s not a sacrifice,” Christopher said, getting to his own feet and twisting out of his sister’s hold.

“Lady Sarah is an accomplished and beautiful woman with great deal of countenance and exquisite manners. Any man would be honored to call her his wife. I believe we will be very happy together. I look forward to marrying her.”

“Then, why is she marrying you?” Deb asked, her hands on her hips.

Christopher had received many slights in the city, especially by men of the aristocratic class that his father had been so eager for them to join, but he wasn’t used to insults from his sisters. Deb’s words stung. Did she not think him worthy of a proper lady?

Before he could reply, Margaret answered for him.

“Lady Sarah is marrying Chris for Manderfield Hall, of course. All the servants talk about how much she loves it. Mrs. Harmony even showed me the portrait of her mother that hangs in the picture gallery. She said how sad Lady Sarah was to leave it but that the earl had sold it with the rest of the estate.”

Christopher wondered which painting it was.

Had he only known, he would have given it to her.

When Lord Manders’s solicitor offered to sell the furniture and paintings with the house, he’d happily paid the additional price.

He hadn’t wanted a mansion with nothing on the walls.

But he would not have missed one portrait of a woman he never knew.

How he wished he had a painting of his own dear mother to place in the portrait hall.

Her face was becoming shadowed in his memories, and he could no longer remember her clearly.

Had her eyes been more like Margaret’s or Deb’s?

Both of his sisters had Mama’s fine complexion—a daintiness that he most certainly hadn’t inherited.

His skin was a warmer olive shade, and he’d always been a big lad. Now he was a large man.

He shouldn’t allow himself to be cowed by his little sisters. “That is correct,” he said, confirming Margaret’s words.

Deb gritted her teeth and stomped her foot again, like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“You’re making a mistake. And I refuse to go to your wedding!

You might as well call it your funeral .

A lady who would marry for her own gain will never love or respect a man like you, and she will look down on all of us for the rest of our lives! We shall all be miserable!”

Breaking into sobs, she spun on her other foot and ran out of the room.

Christopher watched Margaret look at the open door, then back at him.

She stared at the fire with Christopher without speaking for several minutes.

As much as Deb’s words had cut him, Christopher had thought the very same things.

Lady Sarah would probably always look down on his gruff ways, coarse accent, and common background, but he wouldn’t allow anyone to treat his sisters poorly, lady or not.

Margaret clicked her tongue. “Perhaps Lady Sarah will have a calming influence on Deborah. She doesn’t do a thing I tell her to, and she hates it when I correct her.

I fear if she makes the same mistake here that she did in school, she will be scorned and shamed again.

I tried to warn her over and over again, but she never listens to me.

Perhaps she will pay attention to a real lady. ”

Turning his head, he met his sister’s concerned eyes. “You are a real lady, and I hope you will both be happy with Lady Sarah’s companionship.”

Margaret nodded, exhaling slowly. “I am sure we shall be. When are you to be married?”

Her gaze penetrated his very soul, and he had to look away. “Tomorrow morning, by special license.”

“So very soon?”

“Yes.” Before either of us loses our nerve and changes our minds , Christopher thought. His limbs tingled, and he focused his gaze on his hands. The large and rough hands of a laborer. A trickle of sweat dripped down the back of his neck.

“May I come to the wedding?” Margaret asked in a small voice.

Not looking up, he said, “I should like that.”

***

Christopher much preferred riding, but one could hardly expect the ladies to ride a horse to the wedding.

Margaret sat beside him in the carriage, dressed in her finest cambric dress.

Her eyes rested on her hands, which were folded in her lap.

She rocked back and forth in her seat, and not to the same movement of the carriage.

His family had never socialized with the nobility, not even with the gentry, and he felt nervous too.

His muscles no longer tingled, but his insides quivered uncomfortably.

When Margaret looked up at him, he stared out the window, eager to escape her all-too-seeing eyes.

The carriage pulled up to the large yellow mansion of Westbrook Park. Experiencing a bout of dizziness, Christopher tugged at his neckcloth with his finger, needing more air.

A footman opened the double front doors, and Sarah walked out.

For a few moments, Christopher forgot to breathe.

He’d never seen anyone so beautiful. Everything about her spoke to her excellent taste and refined manners.

Over her face she wore a thin white veil, which was attached to her bonnet, but he could still see all her perfect features. She was smiling.

Relief washed over him like a waterfall.

He felt lightheaded and giddy; Sarah hadn’t changed her mind.

He stepped out of the carriage and held out his hand.

It shook a little. She placed hers on top of it and allowed him to assist her inside the conveyance.

She sat on the forward-facing seat next to Margaret.

Christopher climbed back in and sat across from them.

“Your dress is exquisite,” Margaret said in awed tones.

His sister was not wrong. Christopher had never seen a more lovely or ethereal garment.

It was white, the color that only the wealthiest people wore.

The gown was all one shade, but there was nothing simple about it.

His bride wore a silk chemise with a pattered silk gauze with small white dots.

The puffed sleeves resembled flower cups with gauze petals. He had never seen the dress’s equal.

Sarah gave his sister an enchanting smile. “Thank you, dear girl. I should have worn a pelisse over it, but I didn’t wish to smash the sleeves. I hope a bride is allowed a little leniency on her wedding day.”

Margaret stared at Sarah with unabashed admiration.

Sarah fingered one flowerlike sleeve. “I shan’t deny that I worked very hard to make it lovely, and I woke with the dawn and have been busy getting ready ever since.”

“You sewed it yourself?” his sister said.

Christopher was surprised too. The gown was the sort of garment he’d seen only in one of his sister’s fashion plates.

Sarah’s gaze moved to him, and she gave him another smile that made it difficult to breathe.

“I am quite good at needlework. It is my best talent. Would that I had something clever and more accomplished to display, alas. Now, Christopher, please introduce me to your beautiful sister. I have been longing to meet her.”

Taking in a sharp breath, Christopher tried to recollect himself. He was acutely aware of his own heartbeat and the hairs rising on his arms and the nape of his neck. “Sarah—I mean, Margaret—may I introduce you to Lady Sarah?”

The person of lower rank was always presented to the person of higher station, Christopher recalled. He’d learned a few things about the aristocracy through his business associations. Including that a gentleman was always presented to the lady.

Lady Sarah inclined her head. “I am delighted to meet you, Miss Moulton. May I call you Margaret?”

“If you wish to, Lady Sarah,” Margaret said shyly, her gaze downcast.