Page 24

At first glance, Christopher did not think Mr. Brian Robinson resembled his father much.

Mr. Robinson’s hair was as white as a rabbit’s pelt of fur.

He had tired blue eyes, an aquiline nose, and thin lips.

His height and form, however, were very like his son’s, if a bit broader from time.

He appeared to be near fifty but was still fit.

Christopher also noticed that the shape of the man’s face and the line of his jaw was identical to his son’s, as was the man’s smile.

“Delighted to welcome you to the neighborhood, Moulton. I have seen your canal from the Dunkerton pits to Bath, a countryside as highly picturesque as any in the kingdom.”

Christopher’s lips twitched at the mention of the picturesque countryside. He was pleased with the comparison, even if his lovely wife did not approve of Capability Brown’s landscapes. “We do our best to make the canals look as natural as possible, sir.”

Mr. Robinson shook his hand warmly and suggested that they go hunting a morning next week. Pleased, Christopher agreed to it on the spot, even though he was not at all handy with a gun.

He watched Sarah speak to each of Mr. Robinson’s stepdaughters: Miss Lake, Miss Olivia, and Miss Lily. They were standing near their mother and helping welcome the guests.

Why wasn’t Mr. Brian Robinson beside them?

Christopher spotted the tall vicar speaking to another young gentleman under the shade of a tree near the first tent.

The other man was likely Mr. Whitman. His features met Sarah’s description.

His sideburns were very red, despite the brown of the rest of his hair.

Sarah and his sisters seemed well occupied speaking to the other ladies, so Christopher set off to approach the young men.

He meant to follow Sarah’s advice and offer his hand in friendship first.

Halfway there, he was stopped by Mrs. Wentworth. “Mr. Moulton, how surprised I am to see you here.”

Christopher did not quite know how to respond. Was the older woman surprised that he had been invited too? Or that he had accepted the invitation? Was she insulting him or pandering to him? “It is a lovely garden and an even lovelier party.”

Mrs. Wentworth sniffed, sticking her nose into the air. “I confess I have never cared much for the outdoors. If a lady is not careful, her skin can become quite brown.” She said these words as if acquiring tanned skin was the worst thing that could happen to a woman.

Christopher pointed to the tents. “I believe our hosts have provided those tents for just that purpose—to block the sun.”

Not that he had any doubt that Mrs. Wentworth was able to block the sun in any situation.

The older woman touched the pearls at her throat, as if to call Christopher’s attention to them.

“Poor Mrs. Robinson. I quite feel for her. To be forced to accept her husband’s by-blow at her party, even if he is a man of the cloth.

And I worry for her daughters. What if the elder Mr. Robinson were to leave them nothing? ”

Christopher was done with this conversation and this prejudiced woman.

“Perhaps their own late father has left them dowries, Mrs. Wentworth.” He touched the rim of his hat and walked past her without giving her time to reply.

He did not wish to hear her bigoted opinion.

He thought it must be hard enough for Mr. Brian Robinson to be singled out because of his background; how much harder must it be for the man to be judged by the color of his skin.

If the man would accept his friendship, Christopher would be very pleased.

He walked up to the pair of gentlemen and held out his hand first to Mr. Robinson, whom he’d met before. “Vicar, it is wonderful to see you again.”

Mr. Robinson shook his hand. “And you, Mr. Moulton. I was telling Mr. Whitman here that you had married our Lady Sarah.”

Christopher released Mr. Robinson’s hand and took Mr. Whitman’s. Up close, he could see that the young man had a great deal of little reddish-brown freckles. “A pleasure. My wife told me that you breed horses.”

Grinning, Mr. Whitman needed no further encouragement to speak at length about the breeding lines of his stock.

Both Christopher and Mr. Robinson listened attentively and asked several clarifying questions.

Sarah had been right again; Mr. Whitman didn’t seem to mind Christopher’s lack of knowledge on the subject of bloodlines at all.

The man was more than delighted to explain everything about them in great detail.

“This is such a lovely estate,” Christopher said to Mr. Robinson when the opportunity arose. “I am sure you have many wonderful memories of home.”

The vicar’s smile fell for only a moment before a forced look of pleasantness pained his features.

“Alas, no. I did not grow up at Hanford but in my aunt’s home near Portsmouth, and then I was at school and university.

I became the vicar only a few months ago, after my ordination to the priesthood.

It is one of the livings in my father’s gift. ”

Christopher had put a boot into his own mouth. He should have heeded Sarah’s counsel to be careful about mentioning the Robinson family dynamics. “Then, we are both new to the area. We will have to depend on Mr. Whitman here to show us around.”

“With pleasure. But please call me H-Harry.”

“Christopher.”

“Brian.”

“Do either of you know the area near Westbrook Park?” Christopher asked.

The vicar shook his head.

Harry sighed. “Not w-well. I’m a bowing acquaintance with R-Ralph Randolph. He was a year or two below me at school.”

Whether it was Eton or Oxford, Christopher knew nothing of public education, but maybe he could share with them some knowledge about his specialty.

“Sir Oscar is interested in rerouting a river to make a manmade lake. I was thinking about riding out there on Monday morning to get a better idea of the scope of work. If either of you would like to join me, I should be glad of the company.”

Brian gave him a genuine smile this time. “I should be happy to.”

“As would I,” Harry said. “And I shall bring my best stud horse for you both to see. He’s a champion and a thoroughbred.”

“Do,” Christopher invited. “And I am looking for a new horse. Perhaps I could purchase one of his offspring.”

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “I have just the mare for you. She’s a sweet stepper and is well up to your weight.”

After more talk of horses, Christopher politely left his new friends to find his wife.

She was standing near a patch of daffodils and looked as if she belonged in a painting.

She was speaking to Miss Iphigenia Wentworth, who must have been a more pleasing conversationalist than her prejudiced mother, for Sarah gave her bell-like laugh.

Christopher glanced around and saw Margaret sitting near the two elder Lake sisters.

Deborah and Miss Lily were playing a boisterous game of lawn bowling.

He watched his youngest sister throw the wooden ball across the grass, and the pins scattered.

She laughed in triumph. Her face was bright, and she looked happier than Christopher could remember seeing her.

His gaze moved back to his lovely wife, and without thinking, he began to walk toward her—as if she had been his destination his entire life. He just hadn’t known it before.

Once he arrived at her side, Sarah moved closer to him. He wished to hold her hand but contented himself with offering his arm, which Sarah readily took. She smelled of flowers and sunshine.

“Christopher, may I introduce you to Miss Wentworth? She has the charming idea of starting a young ladies’ sewing circle and would like to invite your sisters to join it.”

He bowed his head to her. “A happy thought.”

Sarah gave the young woman a gracious smile. “Perhaps you can invite them right now, Miss Wentworth. I am sure Miss Moulton and Miss Deborah would be delighted to be included.”

“I shall, Lady Sarah. And perhaps I will try my hand at lawn bowling. It appears that Miss Deborah has not an equal amongst the other girls. I shall see if I can challenge her.”

Sarah and Miss Wentworth curtsied to each other, and the younger lady left to speak to Christopher’s sisters. He was glad to have a private conversation with his wife.

She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder. He held his breath, but it appeared to be a sign of affection. He exhaled slowly and was disappointed when she lifted her head.

“I see that you were able to speak with Mr. Whitman and Mr. Robinson.”

“Ah yes, Harry and Brian are to accompany me to Westbrook Park on Monday.”

Sarah beamed up at him. “On a first-name basis already. You are a fast worker, Christopher.”

“Indeed. I married you after knowing you for only one week.”

Her countenance sobered. “And do you have regrets at the speed of our relationship?”

Shaking his head, Christopher did not fight his smile. He picked up her free hand and gently kissed the top of her glove. “Not even one.”