Page 38

The bouquet of hothouse roses trembled in her hands, their lush pink profusion in stark contrast to James’s solemn bride.

Sara stood next to him in the parlor, as prim and serious as a schoolmistress, her hair pulled sharply back from her face in a tight circle of braids.

She was radiant in the gown, as he’d known she would be, the pearly gray setting off her creamy skin and bringing smoky depths to her blue eyes.

Despite the tremor in her hands, Sara’s voice was clear and firm as she spoke her vows, her eyes focused straight ahead. A rush of relief swept through James as the minister pronounced them man and wife.

Mrs. Hobbes and Andrew were the only attendants. The ceremony bore no resemblance to the elaborate affair Amelia had planned, the dozens of guests she’d insisted on—though James scarcely knew their names—or the yards of French lace on her gown.

This was practical. This time he was thinking with his head, not his heart.

Then Sara leaned forward to bury her face in the flowers. A ray of sunlight caressed the graceful curve of her neck and turned her hair to pure gold. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, her lips parting in pleasure, and he felt the blood pulse through his veins.

She looked up and her eyes locked with his. “I love roses,” she said. “They don’t last long, but I try not to let that stop me from enjoying them.”

James swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

A curl escaped her braid to brush the nape of her neck, fascinating him.

For a moment, he imagined leaning down to push the curl away and kissing the soft skin.

Inhaling her scent. He forced himself to turn away and sign the register, his fingers squeezing the delicate quill. This was the path to disaster.

Andrew cleared his throat, making James jump. He gathered the documents and shoved them into James’s hands. “Here’s the paperwork.”

James took the papers. “Thank you.”

“Congratulations.” Andrew’s lackluster tone was at odds with his words as he shook James’s hand, then turned to Sara with a perfunctory bow.

“I wish you much joy, Mrs. Kinney.”

James watched Sara’s face, hoping she didn’t recognize the undercurrent of hostility in Andrew’s voice. He wanted this to be a happy day for her.

“Won’t you have a cup of tea, Mr. Ridley?” She gestured to the tea tray. “I’m sure dinner is almost ready.”

Andrew fiddled with the chain of his pocket watch. “Ah, I thank you, but... no. I must be going.”

“Going?” Evie stood at the parlor door, her eyes wide with hurt. “But Mrs. Hobbes sent me to call you for luncheon.”

Andrew’s smile was forced. “Well, I...”

“She made your favorite pudding, Uncle Andrew.” Evie went to his side, grabbing his hand in both of hers and tugging him toward the dining room.

Andrew reached out to tweak one of her braids. “I suppose I can spare an hour for you, princess.” Avoiding James’s eyes, he let Evie pull him from the parlor. James smiled despite the tension in the room. Andrew never could refuse Evie anything.

At the dining table, Sara supervised the serving of the soup in an atmosphere of tense silence. Andrew raced through his bowl and sat with barely concealed impatience for the next course. James eyed the younger man. It wasn’t like Andrew to ignore the social niceties.

“Why are you in such a hurry today?” Evie turned to Andrew, her gaze direct. Trust her to ask the question they were all thinking.

“Business.” Andrew didn’t lift his eyes from his plate.

Evie tilted her head. “Are you working on a case?”

Andrew took his time cutting a piece of trout. “Nothing I can share with you, princess.”

If Andrew had been in a courtroom lately, it was news to James. He’d all but abandoned their practice in recent weeks.

Before Evie could ask another question, Andrew turned his attention to James. “I suppose you’ll prepare for the wedding visits now?” He fixed his eyes on Sara’s face as though waiting for a reaction.

Sara sent James a quick glance, her eyes wide. “James doesn’t entertain,” she said. “I didn’t think—”

“A single man can’t entertain, though, can he?” Andrew said. “Always said that was my chief motivation for avoiding matrimony.” Andrew laughed at his own joke.

“We won’t be paying wedding visits,” James said, trying to ease the look of strain on Sara’s face. They had an agreement about social obligations.

Andrew shrugged. “I suppose no one would be surprised by that,” he said. He raised his eyebrows with a sidelong glance in Sara’s direction. “Under the circumstances.”

Sara averted her face but not before James saw the hurt in her eyes. He felt a rush of tenderness at her vulnerability.

“But you won’t hold them off forever,” Andrew continued. “Especially Ballantine. He’ll want to come and... look things over.”

“B-Ballantine?” The color left Sara’s face.

Andrew turned to Sara. “Heard of him, have you?”

Sara swallowed. “Why would Mr. Ballantine be interested in meeting me?”

“He’s James’s best client.” His lips quirked. “Once Ballantine decides to take you on, he considers you his.”

She turned to James. There was a wide, wild look in her eyes that had him ready to rise to his feet in case she should bolt from the table. “You work for Ballantine? Impossible.” Her hands gripped the edges of the table. “Stephen Osgoode is his barrister.”

James scanned her face, trying to make sense of her agitation. How did she know who Ballantine employed?

Andrew tilted his head, his eyes sharp. “Osgoode is his barrister. But Ballantine decided to take a hand in my affairs and realized James was the best way to get to me.” He rolled his eyes. “Meddling in other’s business seems to be his speciality.”

Sara’s head snapped back to James. “Why didn’t you tell me you worked for him?”

She sounded as though he’d kept a vital secret from her. “It never came up.” James searched her face for a clue to her distress. His legs twitched with the impulse to stand up and go to her side. Curl his arm around her shoulders and protect her from whatever was bothering her.

“Well, I must be going.” Andrew broke the strained silence.

“Already?” Evie had disappeared after the main course to help Mrs. Hobbes serve the dessert. Now she stood at the table, a plate of steaming Essex Pudding in her hands. “But I want you to meet my friend.”

“I’m sorry, princess.” He looked away, a faint flush staining his cheeks. “I told you I could only stay an hour.”

“It’ll only take a moment,” Evie said, setting the pudding down. “He’s here now, right, Henry?”

Henry popped his head into the dining room. “I don’t got time for a visit,” he said, shaking his head in exasperation at Evie. “Told you I only come to bring a message.” He cast a longing glance at the table. “And maybe get a bite to eat.”

“A message?” James said.

Henry straightened. “Aye, sir. Militia come by the inn.” He paused, his chest swelling with importance as all eyes in the room focused on him. “Said to have arms at the ready. All able-bodied men are to report to Parliament House if they hear the College bell ring.”

No matter how often James had warned about the rebels, this call-to-arms still shocked him. Arms at the ready. Would it really come to that?

Andrew jumped up from his seat. “Thank you for the luncheon,” he said with a hurried bow in Sara’s direction. James rose, determined not to let Andrew leave before they spoke.

“Where are you going?” Evie said. “The pudding is here.”

James met Sara’s eyes for a fleeting moment. She gave a short nod and set to work herding the children to the table with the promise of pudding while James followed Andrew to the hall.

“Is it true?” James asked without preamble.

Andrew took his time shrugging into his coat. When he finally looked at James, his eyes were cool, his expression impenetrable. There’d been a time when they’d shared everything, but his face made it clear how much distance was between them now.

“Are the rebels really ready to attack?” James asked, losing patience with Andrew’s silence.

Andrew paused, his hand on the doorknob. “ If they are, it wouldn’t be any business of yours, James. You’ve chosen your side... and I’ve chosen mine.”