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Christopher’s breath caught when he saw Sarah descending the stairs in her purple riding habit.

She looked like a royal princess. Like someone impossibly above him.

But with each step down, she was coming closer to his level, and the smile on her lips was for him.

He also thought that a bit of her smile was for her own handiwork.

His wife was like sunshine and smiled a good deal.

He’d come to learn that different smiles meant certain things.

Happiness, mirth, ridiculousness, and pleasure.

This smile was because Sarah was pleased with both her skills and with his admiration of her work.

He doubted even the most expensive modiste in London could achieve such a perfect cut and elegant lines.

He took her hand and bowed over it, before succumbing to the impulse of kissing her gloved hand.

Christopher could still feel her kiss on his cheek from earlier.

The softness of her lips. The sweetness of her words.

She smelled of honey and honeysuckle. He was reluctant to drop her hand. To move even an inch from her.

Sarah twisted her hand in his, and he let go, only she did not.

She intertwined her fingers with his. Being handfast felt more intimate than offering her his arm.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Christopher. It was very thoughtful of you. I can hardly wait to introduce you to all our tenants. They are the best people in all of Britain.”

“I am sure they are.”

Leading her out to the front of the house, Christopher helped Sarah into her sidesaddle before accepting the reins of his own horse from the groom. He thanked the man and swung up into the seat. Squeezing his ankles against the mare’s flank, he urged the animal forward.

They walked their horses together side by side.

Sarah was obviously in no hurry to reach their first destination, and neither was Christopher.

He enjoyed spending time with her. She brightened every room that she entered and made conversation sparkle and bubble like a bottle of champagne.

And when she wasn’t with him, Christopher found himself wondering where she was and what she was doing.

Not that he would dream of interfering with her schedule; he merely wished to bask in her sunlight as often as he could.

“If I may, I shall introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Watkins first. Mr. Watkins’s brother, Guy, as you heard on Sunday last, is to marry my lady’s maid, Nelly.”

“I shall congratulate Guy the next time I see him.”

Sarah giggled, and his heart lightened at the sound. “The person who deserves your congratulations is Nelly. She’s been trying to catch Guy for nearly ten years. The poor man finally surrendered and let her have him.”

Christopher felt one side of his mouth quirk up. There was something about this part of England that made women bold. Sarah had also proposed to him. He’d been shocked at the time, but he was now glad of it. And why shouldn’t a lady be able to propose if she wished to?

“A wise man knows when to let himself be caught by a beautiful woman,” Christopher said, winking at her.

This caused Sarah to let out another set of giggles. She was a needle wit and understood his meaning. “I know it has been scarcely nine days since our marriage, but I hope you don’t feel like I am being presumptuous when I say that I feel as if I have been a member of your family for much longer.”

“I am nothing but pleased,” he said, puffing his chest out a little with pride. “You are wonderful with my sisters. I have never seen Margaret so animated, nor Deborah so well-behaved.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “And how am I with you? Are you pleased with me?”

“You are a lady. How could I be anything but pleased with you?” As soon as the polite words left his mouth, Christopher knew he’d disappointed his bride. Sarah had wanted to know how he felt about her , not her title.

Exhaling slowly, she sat taller on her horse.

“You please me greatly, and it has nothing to do with this house or with the money in your bank. You listen when I speak. You play silly games with your sisters and me. You are a master at spillikins. You are trying to help me find my mother. And you are very handsome—which should not matter to me, but somehow it does.”

Her words made him puff out his chest even more. A lady—no, Sarah, his bride—found him attractive. Even with his rough features, big work-hardened hands, and hidden scars. Perhaps looks should not matter, but they did. “Every time I see you, I think you are even more beautiful.”

A smile grew slowly on her face. It was one of happiness. “It’s just my fashionable clothes.”

“No. It is the person inside them who is beautiful.”

“My mother always said that a woman is only as beautiful as she believes herself to be.”

His own lips upturned. “Then, believe your husband and know that you are the most beautiful bride and wife in the entire world.”

A rosy blush formed in her cheeks, and she grinned for the entire ride to the Watkins’ cottage.

Christopher dismounted and then put his hands on Sarah’s narrow waist to assist her off her horse.

He set her feet on the ground and found that her face was very near to his own.

He could feel her sweet and warm breath on his lips.

Christopher wondered if her heart was beating as wildly as his own and if the sound was loud enough that she could hear it.

“Is that you, Lady Sarah?” a woman’s voice called out.

Reluctantly, Christopher stepped away from his wife and turned to meet the person. Sarah placed her hand on his arm.

“Mrs. Watkins, what a delight it is to see you, and you are looking so well.”

He guessed the woman to be around his age or perhaps a little nearer to thirty. She had a round, pleasant face with green eyes and a nose with a bump on it. But what stood out the most was that the woman was great with child. Both of her hands rested on her round stomach.

Mrs. Watkins rubbed her tummy. “Any day now, the midwife says.”

“Then, I will have to finish your baby’s baptism dress this very night. I shall have Guy bring it over in the morning, if that is agreeable to you.”

The woman nodded. “’Tis kind of you, Lady Sarah. Most third babes do not receive a pretty new gown for their christening.”

Christopher had known that Sarah sewed for herself, and he’d seen the alterations she’d made to his sisters’ wardrobes, but he had not known that she used her great skill with the needle for their tenants and neighbors. Even for the third baby of a farmer.

“Perhaps your darling baby could wear the dress again for your brother-in-law’s marriage,” Sarah said with a wink.

“And I was wondering if you would allow me the great pleasure of throwing the wedding breakfast for the happy couple. I know you and your husband would provide a most wonderful party, but I fear that it would be difficult for you so near to the birth of your child.”

Few farmers or their wives could compete with a party thrown at a great estate and the food prepared by a professional cook, but Christopher liked how Sarah had couched the request in both a compliment and the idea that the Watkins family was doing her a favor by allowing her to help.

His wife seemed aware of how the woman of a lower class would feel, and she was careful not to offend her feelings.

Mrs. Watkins rubbed her belly again. “That would be a relief, but I’d like to bring my apple tarts. They’re the best in the village.”

“And the county, at the very least,” Sarah assured her. “But where have my manners gone a’begging? Mrs. Watkins, please allow me to introduce my husband, Mr. Moulton.”

The pregnant woman gave him an awkward curtsy, no doubt because of her condition. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Moulton. My man would be pleased to make your acquaintance too. Our new roof is as tight as a pewter bowl. Not even a drop comes through the thatch.”

Christopher bowed his head to her. “I will pass your compliments on to my steward, Mr. Pryce.”

Sarah bid Mrs. Watkins a merry farewell, and Christopher helped her once again into her sidesaddle. He enjoyed the feel of his hands on her waist and being near her. It was quite his favorite part of the rest of the afternoon.

He met Widow Sears and her son, Mr. Sears, Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, Widower Lewis, and Mr. and Mrs. Dibble.

At each stop, Christopher was received graciously, but it was clear that his tenants adored his wife.

Not that he blamed them. He was beginning to adore Sarah himself.

She was so much more than her title. She was a giver, and her kindness touched everyone around them.

***

Christopher was not particularly excited about the Wentworths’ dinner party that Sunday evening, mostly because he’d never been invited to such an event before.

He’d done business with merchants and lords, but he’d never before attempted to socialize with either class.

The only exception was that he’d looked in at one or two of the tradesmen’s balls.

When he’d met Mrs. Wentworth, he had not liked the woman.

She’d uttered deprecating comments about his friend.

He could only hope the woman would be civil to the vicar when he was her guest. However, Christopher couldn’t be certain.

He’d seen more than one person give Brian an insolent stare.

He rubbed his mustache, grateful that it hid his physical deformity from people like Mrs. Wentworth.

Only a small white scar on his upper lip could be seen, and it was less noticeable if he kept his lips together.