Page 28 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

“Absolutely.”

The jeweler bowed and turned to open his cash box. Sabrina looked absently about the store, when the corner of her eye caught her father walking by the large shop window. She froze, and old fears surfaced once again. Through sheer inner strength she collected herself and hurried to the window to watch as he strode down the street. He entered the solicitor’s office. Blast, the one time she decided to leave her room she encountered her miserable father. Several minutes passed. Then she recognized her father’s carriage as it pulled up to the office.

“My lady?” Mr. Davis questioned.

She waved her arm. “A moment please, Mr. Davis.” Sabrina continued to observe, and minutes later her father emerged from the office, a large brown envelope tucked under his arm. Once he climbed into the coach, it was off, spraying mud and water in its wake as it turned the corner. Exhaling a sigh of relief, she rejoined the jeweler, taking the pound notes he held out to her.

Tucking them into her bag, she nodded at the older man. “Thank you, Mr. Davis.”

He bowed elegantly. “A pleasure doing business with you, Lady Pepperdon.” He escorted her to the door and held it open.

Clutching her reticule, Sabrina hurried along the walkway, pleased she’d spoken out regarding the price. In the past, she would have accepted the offer without uttering a peep. As she rounded the corner, a familiar and unwelcome voice brought her up short.

“Hello, Daughter.”

Sabrina gasped and froze in her tracks. Her father. But she had watched him depart!

“I saw you standing at the window at the jewelers. I had my driver circle the block. Out and about town? Selling choice pieces?” He stepped closer, a cruel smile curved about his mouth. “You think you have escaped your fate. But you haven’t.”

She glanced about, wondering if she should cry out for help. Cursing under her breath, she admonished herself for allowing fright to grip her. Her hands trembled and she clutched her reticule tighter. The baron took another step closer, and Sabrina took one in reverse as she tried to remain outwardly indifferent.

“Allow me to inform you of a salient fact about Sutherhorne,” her father said in a cool but steady voice. “The marquess is a determined and dangerous man to cross, and you and your self-important schoolmaster have stoked his anger. There will be consequences, mark my words. He does not forget—nor forgive. He exacts revenge.”

Blast her father for still having a firm hold of her emotions! “You don’t frighten me. Not anymore. I won’t let you. I am free from you at last. And that miserable marquess.”

He laughed. “You always were a foolish girl. As foolish and stupid and useless as your mother. Like most useless women, you need a man to support you, to keep you in the custom to which you have become used to. Well, the schoolmaster will not be able to dress and feed you as you wish. You will be living in a shack.”

Not for long. She would gain control of her own life, and she was tempted to tell her father of her plan. Instead, she sniffed dismissively. “I’d rather live in a shack with an honorable man than live in a manor house with you or Sutherhorne.”

“We will see,” he whispered ominously. When a couple passed them, her father touched the brim of his hat and gave a false smile, while he said for her hearing only, “This isn’t over.”

He continued along the sidewalk, not giving her a second look, leaving her shaking with both anger and cold fear. What did he mean about the marquess? The bit of anticipation she’d experienced for this small excursion scattered into nothingness and she continued on her way. She stopped in front of the dress shop—her lavender silk gown trimmed with white lace was on display in the window.

The garment had been one of many she’d left behind when she departed. Good heavens, her father had sold them? It is not as if he needed the money, considering he’d paid out her settlement. Then why? Besides being a penny-pinching miser and a complete bully, apparently he wished to erase every last trace of her from the premises. Again, her heart stung. Now hurt mixed with the anger and the lingering fright.

Dejectedly, she ambled past the dress shop and bakery and continued toward the inn. She didn’t care that her skirt dragged through the muck when she stepped into the muddy street.

“Lady Pepperdon.”

There was no mistaking the deep, masculine voice. Glancing up, Riordan hurried toward her. Lord, he was breathtaking, and the sight of him made her aching heart throb for a different reason. Today he wore a calf-length black wool coat and a top hat. The fashionable coat was a snug fit, accentuating his broad shoulders. It was tucked in at the waist, as was the fashion.

How could a schoolmaster afford such well-made garments? Perhaps he was not as poor as she was led to believe. Occasionally, she had the distinct feeling he was keeping secrets from her. Well, she would keep her own secrets—like meeting the baron on the street, for she did not want to rile Riordan. Or facilitate another confrontation between him and her father. A smile broke out on his flawless face, and try as she might to return it, she couldn’t.

Standing before her, he touched the wide brim of his hat. “Mary informed me you were walking about town. Is there somewhere I may escort you?”

Polite, kind, a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, at least outwardly. But she had witnessed the burst of violence from him. Could he be, deep down, the same sort of man as her father and the marquess? No. Riordan did not deserve her suspicion, as he was doing her a great service. He’d apologized for his burst of temper, and it was best she put it behind her. “I’m heading to the inn.”

Crooking his arm, he said, “Let us make our way.”

Take his arm? It would be an insult if she didn’t. Yet the thought of touching him for an extended period caused her insides to tumble with yearning. Steeling herself, she slipped her hand through, resting it as lightly as she could on his sleeve. Even through the coat, muscle flexed under her fingers. Say something. “School is out already?”

“Dismissal will be at half past three instead of five for the rest of this week, as a number of students are needed on family farms. It is why the board agreed to dismiss school at noon Friday—it will please the parents. Apparently it is time to make final provisions for the harvest, and there are other chores to prepare for the oncoming winter.”

A fair number of passersby gaped at them as they strode along. It would be all over town that she was arm-in-arm with the schoolmaster. In years past, she used to care about such talk, but since they were marrying on Saturday, it was hardly worth giving any mind.

“No luck with your shopping trip?” he asked.

Well, he wasn’t put off by her sullen mood, she would give him credit. “I lost all interest when I spotted one of my gowns on display in the dress shop window.”