Page 14 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

Dear Riordan,

Smashing to hear from you! It has been too long. You, a schoolmaster? Knowing your progressive thoughts and beliefs, I suppose I am not surprised. Well done.

To address your inquires: Scotland is not a viable option. It is too far away and with many complicated rules, such as a permanent residency. There are other options for an annulment besides the ones you mentioned in your letter. One of you could claim the other insane and state that you did not know what you were doing when you entered into the marriage. There is also the underage option, or claiming force was used to ensure the marriage took place.

Or, one of you could claim fraudulent reasons. That one deceived the other into a marriage by using a false name, for example.

I can do nothing to assist with an annulment, as the cases are heard before the ecclesiastical court of the Church of England, and only proctors or advocates from the Doctors Common can oversee the proceedings. It is a drawn-out process, and the length of time before the annulment is granted varies case by case. Though most annulments are approved, there are a number that are refused. A person would be stuck with the other for the rest of their lives. It is a hell of a gamble.

I am almost afraid to inquire as to why you are asking these questions. While I sympathize with the unknown lady in question and her “hypothetical” dilemma, I beseech you to come see me here, at the office in London, or at my residence before you do anything rash.

Rescuing a damsel in distress, while an honorable cause, could have life-changing consequences.

Your concerned friend,

William

The passage about fraudulent reasons stood out like a lighthouse beacon. If he married her at a registrar’s office using the name Riordan Black, would it be considered fraud on his part? Grounds for an annulment? He scanned the rest of the letter. What honorable man did not desire to rescue a damsel in distress? Though he doubted Sabrina would wish to be thought of as such. As if he knew her at all.

Garrett strode into the room, heading straight for the sideboard. When most of the family was away, meals were informal. “Martin told me you arrived about thirty minutes past. Homesick already?”

Considering there were only six years’ difference in their ages, he thought of Garrett more as an older brother than an uncle. He slipped the letter into his pocket, then sipped his tea.

Garrett had hit the nail on the head: he was homesick, but he would never admit it. “Hardly. There is a short break for the autumn harvest. The children are expected to help out, free labor and the like.”

Garrett set his overloaded plate of sliced roast pork and assorted vegetables on the table, then sat across from Riordan. “Ah yes, the exploitation of children in the labor market. It is only right they assist with the running of a farm, it keeps them housed and fed.”

“I should have expected as such from you, seeing you have hay on your shirt and smell of horse,” Riordan teased.

Garrett laughed good-naturedly. “Come now, I do agree education is important. But so is the running of a family farm. At the least, the labor is honest and for the greater good of the family, unlike those poor youngsters who toil twelve hours a day in factories in wretched conditions, receiving no education whatsoever.”

Riordan gave his uncle a nod. “You’ve got me there. Speaking of farms and such, how is Starlight faring?”

His uncle’s face lit up at the mention of his prize mare. “Swimmingly. She came through the birth in fine fettle. The foal? He’s an excellent specimen, will be a welcome addition to the stable. And Grayson?”

Grayson was Riordan’s horse, a six-year-old gelding he’d ridden exclusively for the past several years. “Stabled at a nearby farm. I ride him when I can, usually on Saturday and Sunday. He’s being well looked after. You can see for yourself; he’s being fed in the stable as we speak.”

“I will check on him later.”

“I had hoped to borrow a wagon and take pieces of furniture with me to Carrbury. We do have older pieces in storage, do we not? Is there a mattress?”

Garrett shrugged in between bites. “There are some choice bits in the attic of the barn. As for a mattress, we will have to ask Mrs. Barnes. She could no doubt scrounge up proper bedding as well.”

“Where is Aidan? Not coming down for dinner?”

Garrett grunted. “Since the blow with Julian, he scampered off to Bath, to lick his wounds and indulge in his various vices.”

Bath was a favorite haunt of his brother’s, a place of escape when his father and grandfather were in London. In Bath Aidan could attend as many brothels as he chose, or have a scandalous fling with an actress from one of the city’s many theaters without fear of censure. How could twin brothers be as different as they were? Since they were paternal twins they did not look exactly alike, and from their cribs they could not have been more dissimilar.

From his early youth, Aidan was always involved in mischief, leading the governess and nurse on a merry chase. Only Mrs. Barnes, the housekeeper, could put Aidan in his place with a stern look and a wag of her finger. Riordan decided not to follow his brother down such a mischievous path, and instead became a sober and studious young lad. The praise he earned managed to inflame his brother’s disobedient behavior and increase it a hundredfold.

Finally, Julian had had enough and sent Aidan away to school at age ten, two years before Riordan joined him. Perhaps that is when the resentment took root between father and son. The more their father reprimanded Aidan, the worse he acted. No amount of admonishment from the earl or the kindly Mrs. Barnes had any effect.

There was a serious clash coming, Riordan could sense it: irreparable harm causing a permanent rupture between Aidan and the rest of the family. Harsh words would be spoken, never to be taken back, Aidan sinking to even lower depths, losing himself in debauchery. If only there was a way he could broker peace between his father and brother. If only…

“Thinking of Aidan?” Garrett asked.

“How can you tell?”