Page 6

Early the next morning, Christopher called for his horse. He needed to leave immediately before he changed his mind again. He asked the head groom, Mr. Phipps, for directions to Westbrook Park since he’d driven Lady Sarah there only the day before.

Mr. Phipps looked at him speculatively but told Christopher to follow the village road until it reached the pike road and then turn onto the path near the manmade river.

“You can’t miss Westbrook Park,” he said, scratching his cheek.

“It’s a big yellow house in the middle of a valley, styled after an Italian villa.

Sir Roger even imported trees all the way from Italy at great expense, sir. ”

“Thank you, Mr. Phipps.”

His heart beating abnormally fast, Christopher mounted his horse and kicked his heels into the animal’s flank.

He usually enjoyed riding, but this morning his mind was weighed down with indecision, and he nearly turned back to Manderfield Hall.

What if his sisters didn’t like Lady Sarah?

What if he didn’t like Lady Sarah? What sort of woman would marry a stranger for a house?

It was a great estate, but in the end, it was merely stones and mortar. A foolish thing to love.

Christopher wondered what sort of man he’d become.

Was he truly willing to accept a proposal of marriage from a stranger?

Lady Sarah would manage the house and estate beautifully, far better than a London businessman could.

She would also chaperone his sisters and allow them entrance into higher Society—the sort his father had always craved to be a part of but was continually excluded from.

It was everything his father had wanted and nothing that Christopher did.

He pulled his horse to a halt when he caught a glimpse of the yellow house only a mile away.

His muscles twitched, and his mouth was dry.

Once his sisters married, he would be stuck with Lady Sarah for the rest of his natural life.

The daughter of an earl and the son of a canal man.

They were mismatched in every way. How could they possibly be happy together?

Tugging on the reins, he turned the horse to return home.

His sisters would be waiting for him, possibly squabbling.

Christopher had no idea how to handle them.

How to gently rein in Deb’s exuberance and encourage Margaret to stand up for herself more.

He needed a wife. And surely one of the richest men in England deserved the very best. He could think of no better wife than Lady Sarah.

She was elegant, well-mannered, intelligent, talented, and beautiful. And she had asked him !

Turning the horse once again, he prodded the beast into a canter toward the yellow mansion.

Pulling the horse to a stop in front of the house, he dismounted and handed the reins to a groom, who seemed to have nothing to do but wait for someone to come by.

Christopher gave the man a nod and walked toward the house, but before he reached the door, he heard a voice from behind him.

“Mr. Moulton, what a delightful surprise,” Lady Sarah said in her cultivated tones.

He turned to see her carrying a basket full of freshly cut flowers in one hand and her bonnet in the other.

She was wearing a blue dress, and the color contrasted with her lovely brown eyes.

She was so striking that Christopher blinked, as if not quite trusting his own sight.

After a moment of hesitation, he walked toward her.

She set her basket down and held out her hand, palm down.

He paused. He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to shake it, but what should he do? Touch it? Kiss it?

Before he could make up his mind, she dropped her hand. Color stole into her cheeks. Relief swept over him; he was not the only one who felt nervous during this odd interview.

“Lady Sarah Denham, I have come to discuss your proposal.”

“Excellent,” she said, giving him another beautiful smile that caused butterflies in his belly. “Shall we take a turn around the gardens? They are lovely, and we shall have privacy there.”

He nodded.

Lady Sarah picked up the basket and handed it to a footman, instructing him to see that the flowers were put into water.

She turned back to Christopher and pointed the direction they were to go.

They walked next to each other in silence until they reached a large oval fountain with a high-arching spray.

As a man who, until recently, had worked with water all day, Christopher was intrigued with what mechanism was used to shoot the water so high.

Stopping, Lady Sarah turned to him, and all thoughts of fountains fled his mind. She was more beautiful than he’d remembered, and there was a pretty pink in her cheeks. Perhaps she felt as embarrassed as he did. “Have you come to a decision, Mr. Moulton?”

“Yes. Yes, I have.”

“And?” she prompted, biting her lower lip.

“I believe our union would be beneficial for both parties, and I am agreeable. If, that is, you haven’t changed your mind about marrying a stranger?”

She shook her head. “I have not.”

“Then, we have an agreement,” Christopher said, and without thinking, he offered his hand to shake as if this were a business matter.

He recollected himself and was about to drop his hand when Lady Sarah placed her slender hand in his.

She seemed frail and delicate, like the flowers she’d picked. A real lady.

“We do,” Sarah said and gave him a most beguiling smile.

If he wasn’t careful, he could lose his heart to such a woman, and that would be a disaster.

No fine lady like her would ever have tender feelings for a scar-faced canal man.

He squeezed her hand automatically, but she returned no pressure.

He found his neck feeling hot. He released her limp hand and pulled at his neckcloth.

“I did not mean any disrespect, Lady Sarah,” he said quickly. “A handshake is commonplace after an agreement in business.”

“I should have thought a kiss would be more commonplace in this situation,” she said with a saucy wink.

Christopher should not have looked at her mouth—her beguiling lips.

He was better at kissing than conversing, and Lady Sarah had suggested a kiss to bind their agreement.

Leaning forward, he waited for her to move away.

She did not. In fact, she lifted her mouth to meet his.

Her lips were soft and tasted sweet, like spun sugar.

He put his hands on her shoulders to bring her closer to him, but her body stiffened. He broke the kiss instantly.

Embarrassed, he stepped back. She was a gently bred lady, and he had been too bold.

Touching her flushed cheek with her hand, she gave him a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Mr. Moulton. A kiss is far more satisfactory than a handshake. Our deal is struck.”

He swallowed and was grateful that he was not forced to apologize to her for his uncouth behavior. “I suppose you ought to call me Christopher, if we are to be married. Or Chris, as my sisters do.”

She laughed; it was a sweet, airy sound, like a delicate bell. “Chris-to-pher,” she said slowly. “I should like to call you Christopher, and you must call me Sarah.”

“Very good, Sarah,” he said. “How soon should you like to be married?”

Smiling, she shrugged her shoulders. “Tomorrow. Or as soon as possible. We could be married by a special license.”

The hairs on his arms stood up. Why was she in such a rush that the banns could not be read? Was she hiding something?

“I do not see the need to rush.”

“And I do not see the need for delay,” she said, sticking her chin out slightly. “I want to go home to Manderfield Hall, and I cannot until we are married.”

Christopher sucked in a quick breath. “I could write to my solicitor and have him purchase a special license, but there is the little matter of marriage settlements. And your father’s permission.”

Sighing, she shook her head slightly. “I do not need, nor do I desire, my father’s permission.

I am five and twenty, and my maternal grandfather, the Duke of Aylsham, has already settled ten thousand pounds on me, which will become yours upon marriage.

However, I should like to make one request: in addition to whatever money you mean to settle on me as your wife, I want the title of Manderfield Hall to be legally mine if, by chance, you should die before me and there are no children from our union. ”

Christopher was not surprised by her request. Sarah was willing to marry a stranger for the house; she would not wish to lose it upon his death. But did she mean she didn’t desire to bear children? Or that she wanted a marriage in name only? “Do you not wish for children?”

“I want at least a half dozen babies,” she said with a bright smile. “But one never knows. My mother wished for many children and was only able to have one daughter.”

Relief flooded over him like a broken dam.

He wanted a real marriage with Sarah and several children too.

His betrothed was simply being cautious, something he respected, from his business experience.

“Very well. I will ensure that both my will and the marriage settlements are clear on that matter.”

“Excellent,” Sarah said. “Then, we can marry as soon as you obtain the special license.”

Christopher was about to speak when he heard a man’s voice.

“Freckles, there you are.” A young, redheaded gentleman walked to them, eyeing Christopher, and then angled himself so that he stood between Christopher and Sarah.

He was several inches taller than Christopher and looked down on him in more than just height.

The slender man was dressed elegantly and clearly thought he was much better than Christopher.

He flexed his arm muscles without thinking. The gentleman may be taller, but Christopher was broader in the chest and much stronger than this frippery fellow. Christopher had dug more than a hundred canals and was more than willing to sport his canvas.

The man touched Lady Sarah’s arm, and Christopher saw red. “Is this man bothering you, Sarah?” the odious man said.

“Mr. Moulton, this is the Honorable Ralph Randolph, my cousin,” Sarah said, stepping to the side of her cousin to give Christopher a reassuring look. “Mr. Moulton is the new owner of Manderfield Hall and my b-betrothed.”

“Sir,” Christopher said curtly, nodding. Resentment crawled up his spine. Christopher was not a lord or an honorable. His family wasn’t aristocracy or gentry. They were as common as bread. His fortune had been made in the digging of canals.

The Honorable Ralph Randolph looked from Sarah to Christopher and back, then shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

“You don’t have to,” Sarah said, crossing her arms. “It is none of your affair.”

Ralph’s eyes bulged. “My mother is waiting for you inside, Sarah. You should go to her.”

Sarah pushed back her shoulders in apparent defiance. “You are not my keeper, Ralph. I will come into the house when I am ready. And you have yet to acknowledge Mr. Moulton, whose manners, might I add, are much better than your own.”

“My mother is waiting for you,” Ralph said sharply, his grip on Sarah’s arm tightening. “And for the second time in two days, she is sure that you are lost. After what happened to your mother, I would think you would be more considerate to mine.”

Christopher wondered what had happened to the late countess. By the sound of it, something terrible.

Sarah jerked back from her cousin as if she’d been slapped, and the dis honorable Ralph Randolph released his viselike hold on her arm. She recovered her countenance enough to smile at Christopher. “I look forward to seeing you very soon, Mr. Moulton. Thank you for calling on me.”

She curtsied and then took her cousin’s arm and dragged him away from Christopher, as if to prevent the two of them from fighting. “Come, Ralph. Let us go assuage your mother’s doubts about our safety. She’s probably worried about you too.”

Ralph glared over his shoulder at Christopher, but Sarah did not let go of his arm.

Alone, Christopher walked slowly back to the front of the mansion, where the groom from before was waiting with his horse. Christopher swung up into the saddle and prayed that he would not regret today’s decision.