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Christopher knocked before entering Sarah’s room the next morning.

She sat on her bed with her beautiful hair down.

She wore a lovely silk robe and was picking at her breakfast tray.

She laughed when she saw him. “I am so glad that it is you, Husband . For a moment, I was afraid Ralph had kept his threat of visiting first thing in the morning.”

Christopher felt his own lips twitching as he held up several letters. “I went riding with Brian and Harry this morning and stopped again at the postmaster’s. He had quite a stack for you.”

She patted the bed by her side, and Christopher gulped. He walked jerkily to the spot and perched awkwardly on the edge of her coverlet. Sarah took the letters from his hands and riffled through each one of them.

“Oh, they’re all from members of my family.

They are sending their best wishes for our marriage and hoping for a bit of gossip,” she said and held up one.

“This is from my aunt Beatrice. She is the Marchioness of Chapman, and she is hinting that she and her twelve children stay with us instead of Aunt Venetia for our wedding party. They’ve been rivals since they debuted thirty years ago. May I invite her?”

Christopher gulped again. Sarah had not been exaggerating when she’d said that she was related to many prominent members of London Society. “Like I said last evening, you are the mistress of Manderfield Hall, and you can do whatever you please.”

“It would please me to invite my Aunt Beatrice and probably a few other families to stay with us as well, for Aunt Venetia has written that she has even included my second and third cousins in her party,” Sarah said, holding up a lengthy page.

Then she pointed to the remaining letter in his hand. “Is there any news about my mother?”

Exhaling slowly, Christopher broke the seal and opened the letter from his man of business.

He scanned through the contents and saw that the bulk of the information was about canal stocks and shares.

He also wrote to inform Christopher that his best foreman, Mr. Sinclair, was traveling to the area to begin work on the Randolph canal and lake with a gang of more than fifty canal men.

There was only one line at the end that said no creditable information had been received about the whereabouts of the Countess of Manders.

He knew that whenever a reward was offered, unscrupulous or desperate folks would try to give false information for coins, but he was fortunate that his man of business had a good head on his shoulders and could discern creditable information from false reports.

He wished he had better news for his wife.

He shook his head. “Nothing yet. But it has only been a week. I am sure we will hear something soon.”

“You are right. I am sure it will take some time.” Sarah attempted a smile, but it looked sorrowful. Her sadness pulled at his heartstrings.

Christopher wished to cheer her up, not give her further reason to despair. “You’ll be happy to know that my finest foreman is coming to supervise the creation of your uncle’s lake.”

“Uncle Oscar will be overjoyed,” Sarah said, but then she hung her head, and Christopher knew he had not succeeded in cheering her. “Perhaps Ralph is right. Perhaps my mother is never coming back, and I am foolish to wait for her return.”

Christopher placed a finger underneath her chin and lifted it up so that he was gazing into her eyes. “We will look until we discover the truth. I promise. I will not give up. If you’d like, you and I could travel to the different English ports and ask around in person.”

She shivered underneath his touch. For a moment, he thought it might be in revulsion, that she was rejecting him, but then he saw a tear fall down her cheek. “I can’t leave Manderfield Hall until she comes home.”

“Not even to look for her?”

Sarah shook her head, and another tear slipped from her eye. “I’ve gone for two months of the London Season for the last five years because my grandfather insisted upon it. But every day, every minute, I wonder and I worry.”

Moving his hand, Christopher gently cupped his wife’s wet cheek. “Then, we will stay as long as you need to.”

“I don’t want you to be stuck here too.”

Christopher did not fight his smile. He allowed the edges of his lips to curve upward. “There is no other person I would rather be stuck with.”

Her eyes shined with tears. “Truly?”

“Well, perhaps your Aunt Beatrice,” he said, teasing her. “Ten children, you said?”

“Twelve.”

“Good heavens.”

Sarah gave a watery chuckle, and his heart jumped inside his chest. “Three of them are grown and married now.”

Christopher was reluctant to move his hand from her face.

He loved the silken feel of her skin. The way his fingers tingled where he touched her.

His eyes dropped to her pink lips, but he did not want to ruin this tender moment.

He was here to comfort her, not kiss her.

Compromising, he brushed a gentle kiss on her brow.

At last he let her go and got to his feet. “I shall leave you to finish your breakfast.”

He walked two steps before she said, “What are your plans for today?”

Christopher spun on his heel to face his wife. “I had thought to ride over to Westbrook Park and stake out the location of the lake. Would you like to accompany me?”

She leaned forward. “Only if we can go swimming first. I have a blue-and-white-checked linen bathing gown with little weights sewn into the hem to keep it from coming up. I can wear it underneath my riding habit.”

Christopher had seen other women swimming or, rather, wading into the water, but he hadn’t thought ladies did. He was very eager to see her in her bathing gown. “Shall I have a groom bring our horses in an hour?”

Sarah grinned up at him. “That would be perfect, and don’t forget your bathing suit.”

It wasn’t until that moment that Christopher realized he didn’t have a bathing costume.

Men usually swam in the nude. He’d never frolicked in the water in the company of a woman.

Nay, a lady. And he had no wish to shock his wife, nor to give her a distaste of him by behaving improperly. He would ask his batman what to do.

Entering his own chamber, Christopher pulled on the cord for Mr. Harris. The young man arrived only minutes later, red-faced and breathing hard. Christopher felt his own color rise. Perhaps he’d yanked the cord a little too hard.

Mr. Harris bowed. “Sir.”

Christopher’s hand went to his mouth, and his finger touched the scar on his upper lip. “I am to go riding and swimming with my wife. What would be the proper clothing to wear?”

His batman bowed a second time. “I know just what you require, sir.”

A quarter of an hour later, Christopher emerged from his rooms feeling like a gentleman, not merely a canal man who knew no better than to swim in the altogether.

He wandered down the stairs and followed the sound of music to Sarah’s favorite sitting room.

Except that she wasn’t there. Only his sisters were.

Margaret was playing the piano and singing the alto part, and Deborah’s strong voice soared above hers in a sweeping soprano.

The entire effect was lovely. Even lovelier that they were working together as opposed to competing with each other.

He attributed the transformation between his sisters to his wife and recalled her words about showering them with love and attention.

Christopher’s mother had been loving, and he could be too.

When his sisters finished the song, he clapped loudly and said, “Brava! Brava! I have never heard a better performance. Not even in London.”

A pretty pink stole into Margaret’s cheeks.

Deborah didn’t blush, but she beamed back at him. “We were rather good, weren’t we? The next time we attend a dinner party, Margaret and I will be ready to present with all the other young ladies.”

“You don’t wish for Sarah to accompany you on the harp?”

Margaret stood up. “Sarah is always welcome. We just—Deb and I thought that she was surprised to be asked is all—as a married woman.”

Exhaling, Christopher nodded. Now that he came to think of it, the haughty and horrible Mrs. Wentworth had not asked his sisters to perform—Sarah had insisted that they join her.

His wife had ensured that his sisters were not snubbed or left out.

It had been his lucky day when his solicitor had suggested that he purchase Manderfield Hall.

He had not known then that Sarah would come with it, nor that she would be a constant source of warmth and joy in his life. But she was.

He walked over to Margaret and held out his arm to give her a half hug.

He waited for her to acquiesce by moving toward him before he pulled her close to his side.

His father had not been affectionate, and Christopher was probably going about it all wrong, but before he could let go of Margaret and hug Deborah, his littlest sister claimed his other side and squeezed him tightly.

Christopher spoke to the tops of their heads—it was easier that way. “I, um, don’t always say how I feel. But I want you both to know how much I love you and how grateful I am to be the brother of the two most accomplished young women in the county.”

Margaret tipped her head up to look him in the eye. She wrinkled her nose as she smiled. “Did Sarah tell you to say that to us?”

A smile danced on his lips. His sister was as sharp as his wife. “Not precisely. She, um, did mention that it was important to express how I feel to those I love.”

Margaret rolled up onto her tiptoes and kissed Christopher’s cheek.

Deb copied her and asked saucily, “Have you told Sarah yet that you love her?”

“She is my wife.”

“You haven’t realized yet that you love her?” Deb pressed. “She makes you happy, Chris, and no one else makes you smile.”