Page 27

Not that his father had ever been able to forget it was there, right underneath his nose and down to his mouth.

When Christopher was born, there was a separation underneath his nose all the way to his upper lip.

A physician named James Cooke had sutured the skin together when he was only three months old.

Christopher remembered the scar but nothing of the surgery.

Mama had said that the physician had told her to keep Christopher awake for twelve hours before the procedure.

That way he would sleep after the surgery.

His mother had also given him some cordial in a bottle to ease the pain.

But he did remember his father’s embarrassment over his son’s “imperfection.” His repaired palate was the reason Papa did not have social pretensions for Christopher.

That he’d never expected his eldest son to marry well.

Nor did his father originally plan to leave his canal company to Christopher.

At eleven, before any whisps of hairs on his chin or lip had grown, Papa had sent him to learn canal work starting as a digger.

His parents had purchased a new home in London, and his father did not want Christopher’s face to be the reason the family wasn’t accepted by the fancier neighborhood.

Not that his father had said those words aloud.

He’d simply insisted that Christopher learn the trade.

Christopher had not been welcomed back into the family home, in an even more expensive part of London, until his mustache had grown in, covering the scar from his deformity.

Only then was he allowed to see his little sisters and grieve for his dead mother and siblings.

He rubbed his mustache again. What would his father say now that his imperfect son was married to the daughter of an earl?

And the most perfect woman Christopher had ever met?

Sarah excelled at everything and was beloved by all.

She had kissed his cheek and proudly put her hand on his arm.

Even though Christopher was from a lower class, his wife was not ashamed of him. If only his father hadn’t been.

But perhaps that wasn’t fair. Sarah didn’t know the true reason he refused to shave his beard.

If she did, maybe she, too, would find him underserving of her affection.

Sighing, Christopher thought of his mother.

She had never blamed him for this face, nor herself for bearing a child with a deformity.

Mama had said that God had made Christopher that way and that God didn’t make mistakes.

Christopher turned to the sound of footfalls on the stairs.

Sarah was walking slowly down, like a queen.

She wore a seafoam-green gown that shimmered like the fins of a mermaid.

The dress had a high waist and short, puffed sleeves.

She wore long gloves that had been dyed the same seafoam green.

Her glorious mahogany hair was a perfectly ordered riot of curls with a pearl string weaved around her head.

A necklace with three strands of pearls encircled the pale column of her throat.

Her brown eyes were luminous when they met his, and she smiled at him.

Marrying her had not been a mistake. It had been the best choice he’d ever made.

He held out his hand to his wife, and she placed hers inside his palm. Christopher had never been a dandy and didn’t claim to be a swell, but he couldn’t resist lifting her hand up to his lips and brushing a kiss on the top of her long green glove. “You look beautiful.”

Sarah exhaled, and he saw that there were tears in her eyes. “If you keep telling me that, I might start to believe you.”

It had never occurred to Christopher that Sarah might be unaware of her allure or insecure in her appearance.

He had not thought her beautiful the first time that he’d seen her.

Striking, yes. He’d been drawn to her fashionable clothing and the neatness that characterized her person.

Her curly brown locks were her crowning glory, and her facial features had grown prettier with every moment he’d spent time with her.

From the first he’d found her attractive, but he was not exaggerating now when he called her beautiful.

She was. From inside her large heart to her enticing outside.

Still holding her hand, Christopher placed a second kiss on her glove. “Then, I shall tell you twice as often, dove—I, um, mean Sarah.”

His wife blushed at his use of the endearment, and he wondered if “dove” was somehow vulgar.

Sarah stepped even closer to him, until the material of her gown brushed his knee breeches.

When she rolled onto her toes, Christopher thought she was going to whisper a reprimand into his ear, but her lips did not reach that far.

They brushed against the skin of his cheek, right above the line of his beard.

His breath caught. His fingers tingled with the need to touch her. To pull her close to him.

His wife didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Christopher wasn’t altogether certain that he could move. Her sweet caress had left him immobilized. He felt her warm breath against his beard and then his ear.

“I should very much like to be your dove, Christopher.”

His hands tentatively reached for the sides of her waist, and she did not flinch when he touched her. She smiled more warmly at him than she had before. His heartbeat galloped like his new mare in an open field. “May I kiss you?”

Her face turned a shade of pink, but she nodded, the smile never leaving her lips.

Christopher took one hand from her waist and gently cupped her face.

Her skin was softer than the petals of a rose, and she smelled sweeter too.

He leaned forward, and she closed her eyes.

His scarred lip hovered a breath away from her perfect mouth.

Christopher pressed his lips gently to hers.

Their first kiss as a married couple.

It was more wonderful than anything he’d ever experienced before. He had never felt such pure joy and delicious pleasure. He felt warmth from the top of his head all the way down to his toes—which curled inside of his boots.

“My dress is much prettier than yours,” Deb said loudly.

Christopher and Sarah abruptly broke apart.

His wife opened the painted ivory fan at her wrist and waved it at herself.

There was a deep blush in her cheeks, and her lips looked swollen.

Sarah appeared more enticing than ever, but he should have been intelligent enough to embrace her in a more private setting.

One where they would not have been interrupted.

“It’s very pretty,” Margaret said. “Both of our gowns are.”

Seeing his sisters, Christopher thought that Margaret’s deceptively simple silver gown was fit for a princess.

The new way Sarah had taught the maids to do Margaret’s hair flattered the shape of her face.

And he could see that her pale complexion had color skillfully applied to it.

If he hadn’t known her better, he would not have recognized the bit of blush in Margaret’s cheeks, nor the black kohl on her eyelashes, nor the bit of carmine on her lips.

Sarah or her maid had achieved a most natural look. He’d never seen his sister prettier.

Perhaps that was why Deb was making a point of showing off her own dress, and there was nothing simple about it.

The dark-blue gown had several flounces on the skirt and even a flounce on both sleeves.

She looked charming, but so young. And the pout on her lips made her appear younger.

More vulnerable, like a child wearing her elder sister’s gown.

Christopher grinned at his sisters. “You both look enchanting.”

Sarah’s expression evinced no surprise. She must have assisted his sisters in preparing for their first dinner party.

He recognized her special touch in every aspect of their appearance, down to the diamond bracelet on Margaret’s wrist. Christopher had not seen it before, and he assumed that the priceless jewels his sisters wore belonged to his wife.

He felt a surge of gratitude in his chest for Sarah.

She was more than holding up her side of the bargain.

She wasn’t simply chaperoning his sisters; she was making them feel like family.

“Those who compare themselves to others will always come up second best,” Sarah said. “No matter what they say.”

Deb’s lower lip stuck out even farther as she toyed with the five silver bracelets on her right wrist. “You’re only saying that because you like Margaret better than me. You lent your diamond bracelet to her and not to me.”

Christopher opened his mouth but closed it again when Sarah waved her hand at him.

She came closer to Deborah, and he expected her to discipline his surly sister.

Instead, she unclasped the pearl necklace with three strands from around her own throat and put it on Deborah.

“Sometimes I do like Margaret better than you—typically, when you are being petulant or mean to her. However, I love you both the exact same amount and consider you to be my sisters. Next time, if you feel slighted in any way, you simply have to tell me, not be unkind or throw a fit. I am more than happy to share my jewelry with you. Remember, there is always room at our table for another person.”

He watched his youngest sister touch the stunning pearl necklace. Christopher thought it must be an heirloom of Sarah’s family. The necklace appeared to be old and priceless.

Deb’s defiant chin angled downward. “I am sorry, Sarah.”

His wife placed a gentle hand on Deb shoulder. “It isn’t me you should apologize to.”

Deb harumphed and did not look Margaret in the eyes as she mumbled, “Megs, I’m sorry that I said my dress was prettier than yours.”

He watched Margaret hug herself and shake her head. “I don’t mind.”

But Christopher wanted her to care. He needed Margaret to stand up for herself.

Sighing, Sarah took Margaret’s hand. “That school of yours seemed to drum into you the importance of good manners above all else. But in your own home you are allowed to have feelings. You should be able to be angry, frustrated, sad, and annoyed. You are wise to forgive quickly and not to hold grudges, but you don’t need to always suppress your negative emotions. ”

Frowning, Margaret tugged up on her glove. “A proper lady is always pleasant.”

Sarah gave a short laugh as she shook her head. “Then, I am afraid I am not proper at all.”

Christopher was not the only one whose jaw fell open at this statement from his wife.

Margaret shook her head in disbelief, and Deb said, “Of course you are. You’re a real lady, Sarah.”

His wife took a deep breath. “Then, proper ladies are allowed to cry and be disappointed and scared. When my mother did not come home that night, I was devastated. You do not have to bottle every feeling inside so that the world cannot see it. If you do that, eventually all your feelings will spill out when you least expect it, like uncorking champagne.”

Still fiddling with the top of her glove, Margaret said, “I’d never thought of it that way.”

Sarah took Margaret’s hand from her glove, letting it fall to her side.

“There is a difference between expressing emotion and making a scene. I trust you are wise enough to know when it is appropriate to show your feelings in public and when it is best to wait until you are in private. Now, let us go dazzle the members of our dinner party. I see three gorgeous young women whose gowns are second to none.”

Deb laughed and grabbed Margaret’s hand. “You are divine in silver, Margaret.”

“And you look beautiful in blue,” her sister replied, and they strolled out the front door together.

Christopher offered his arm to Sarah. “Thank you. I know Deb can be a handful.”

Placing her fingers in the crook of his arm, Sarah smiled up at him. “They are both starved for affection and attention. Deborah is naughty so that she is noticed, and Margaret is good, hoping for elusive praise.”

His face felt hot. “I have done my best.”

Sarah squeezed his arm. “I am not judging them or you. I know this because I was once the same way. My father never paid me any heed, no matter how badly behaved I was, nor how angelic I tried to be. My mother showered me with love and compliments, and I eventually outgrew the need for attention. I am sure it will be the same for your sisters. Until then, we will both give them extra love.”

Christopher nodded, because words would not form in his throat.

Like Sarah, his own father had not paid him much heed.

He’d been embarrassed by Christopher’s facial defect and tried to keep him separated from the other children.

Christopher had barely seen Margaret or Deborah before his father’s funeral, and then he’d followed through with Papa’s request to send the girls to school.

Where they would still probably be if Deb hadn’t gotten into trouble and he’d swiftly removed them.

Perhaps Christopher had been too aloof with his sisters since his father died.

Sarah was right. His sisters needed more love.

But never growing up with much affection himself, how was Christopher supposed to show it?