Page 45 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

Garrett bristled, but Julian held up his hand to stay his brother’s response. “You speak passionately,” Julian said, “But you could be heading for heartache, and I’m not speaking merely of the curse, which is tangible no matter what you think. Even though you say there’s an attraction, there is no guarantee the lady will wish anything permanent with you.”

Riordan frowned. He didn’t like being reminded of such an outcome. “I will deal with that if it should happen. I’ll not stand in her way if she wishes to leave—for whatever reason. As I said, I will give her what she most desires.”

“And if you are able to convince her to stay, what of children?” the earl asked.

Riordan turned slightly to glare at his grandfather. “What of it? I’m not the heir. It is not my responsibility to procreate and carry on the Wollstonecraft legacy.”

“Who is to say?” Julian replied. “Your brother is not showing an inclination to take his responsibilities seriously.”

“Besides,” the earl interjected, “she was married to Sutherhorne for years and there was no issue from the union. Granted, the fault may not be hers.”

Riordan took another sip. “Here is my last word on the subject. I’ve listened to all your concerns and I will take them under advisement. Ultimately, however, it is my life and my decision. If it is a mistake, I’ll live with the consequences. Heartache or no. Meanwhile, no interference from any of you. Trust me to make my own choices.”

The table was silent. Perhaps too silent.

“Father?”

“I will not contact Kenworth. At least, not for now. I still stand by my belief that you should end this marriage, sooner rather than later.” His father blew out an exasperated breath. “Best we change the subject. I met our new neighbors this afternoon.”

Garrett grinned as he took a puff on his cigar. “Mrs. Alberta Eaton and her brother-in-law, Jonas Eaton.”

“What can you tell me about them?” Julian asked.

Riordan glanced at his father; he was interested in what Garrett had to say. All of a sudden, so was Riordan.

“Mrs. Eaton is thirty-nine. She was married to Mr. Reese Eaton, barrister, for ten years before he died of heart failure. I believe she said her husband was close to twenty years older. And Jonas? A late birth for Mr. Eaton’s mother, one she did not survive.” Garrett sipped his brandy. “Alberta said the cord was wrapped around his neck at birth. They thought him stillborn until the doctor brought him around by massaging his chest. Was he deprived of air for too long? Or is this the way he was meant to be? No one knows the answer.”

Julian stubbed out the remains of his cigar. “Unfortunate. How is it you are privy to this information?”

“Many a cup of tea in the parlor over the past several weeks. Do I detect a spark of interest in the widow, Brother?” Garrett’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

Julian scoffed. “Hardly.”

The men gave him dubious looks, including Riordan. His father had not shown any curiosity toward a woman in recent memory. Oh, he was aware that his father had a few affairs through the years, but he never mentioned any of them. Interesting development.

“Riordan, over brunch tomorrow we wish to hear a detailed account of your schoolroom adventures, and the results of your progressive curriculum,” the earl stated.

“Of course, Grandfather.”

He would depart immediately after and head home. To Sabrina. This visit had made Riordan all the more determined to pursue a permanent bond between them. He’d spoken the truth: he was more than infatuated. Taking a chance with his heart? Perhaps. But she was worth the risk.

In all ways.

* * * *

He stood, resplendent in his soldier red, the breeze ruffling his thick, black hair. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looked every inch the hero. Handsome beyond measure, with eyes that rivaled the summer sky above, he gave me a sly smile and a slight bow. My insides somersaulted as a heated yearning tore through me, culminating in my body reacting in the naughtiest of ways. I wanted to possess him; I wanted him to possess me. It was then I knew I would sacrifice everything I was raised to believe in order to have him in my bed for one night.

Sabrina closed the book and heaved a sigh. Last night she’d started to read The Bold Seduction of Miss Featherstone and found herself swept up in this young woman’s tale of sensual awakening. The entertaining read was a combination of the heroine’s journal entries interspersed with third-person narration.

Much of what was described in this story, Sabrina was slowly becoming aware of: the tumbling of her insides, the reactions of her body, whether naughty or not. There was no doubt about it. Finally, when in a man’s presence, she experienced arousal. In Riordan’s presence. This never happened with her husband. Not once.

She’d enjoyed their first night of reading Wuthering Heights. It certainly highlighted how all-consuming passion could be—and how tragic. The thought of Heathcliff standing before the open window, beseeching a ghostly Cathy, his heart’s desire, to come to him made her eyes fill up. But it was not only the story itself—it was Riordan’s mesmerizing voice, and the emotion he injected into every word.

Mary bustled into the bedroom. “Luncheon is ready, my lady. Come to the table… Oh! You’re reading the book.”

Sabrina slipped it under her pillow. “Yes, and I have questions.”

“Come, before it grows cold. I made us poached eggs on toast. Ask me what you will while we eat.”