Page 67 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

“The lords, the earl and viscount, said I’m to see to your needs, my lady.” Everyone was referring to her as “my lady” or “Lady Pepperdon.” She didn’t have the energy or inclination to correct them tonight.

“Thank you, Helen.”

The older woman nodded and gave her a warm smile. “I’m to attend to you in the bath, then bring a tray of food. Would you prefer a hot or cold meal, my lady?”

Sabrina wanted to scream “leave me alone,” yet she did not wish to be left with her thoughts. Her mind raced, her emotions in turmoil. Her heart still banged at tattoo beat; she needed to calm, and a warm bath and a hot meal would assist in such an endeavor. “A hot meal, thank you.”

“Master Riordan said to bring you apple pie….”

She shook her head. “No.” The memory of them sharing a jolly laugh over her botched attempt at baking an apple pie, and the heated intimacy that had followed, rushed through her mind. Shaking it away, she said, “No, thank you.”

“Very well, my lady. You have a good soak and I’ll return directly.” Helen hurried from the room, leaving her alone. After slipping off her clothes and laying them on the bed, she tentatively stepped into the tub and lowered into the warm rose-scented water. Blessed relief. Leaning her head against the high back of the copper tub, she sighed and closed her eyes.

Did she fall asleep? For next she knew, Helen had returned, carrying a tray with covered dishes upon it. Another maid followed, carrying a tea tray with a small decanter. Still another maid followed, with towels and bathing cloths. “I located a bar of rose-scented soap, my lady. Not easy in a house full of men.”

Helen saw to the trays and dismissed the other maids, closing the door behind them. She pulled up a chair and dipped the soap and the cloth in the water. “Still warm. I was gone close to thirty minutes. Did you rest, my lady?”

So she had napped. “Yes, thank you.” She paused. “I’m curious, why are an earl and a viscount under the same roof? Father and son usually have separate residences.”

Sabrina leaned forward so Helen could wash her back. “It’s usually the case, but the Wollstonecraft men are a different breed, to be sure. I’ve been here thirty years, since Master Garrett was a wee one. Seen the tragedy of both men losing their wives. I’ve seen the earl lose two wives. He had three, if you can imagine.” Helen squeezed the cloth, rinsing the soap from Sabrina’s back.

“They decided it was best if the twins and Master Garrett grew up together, seeing there was only six years between them, and as a result the three of them are very close. So the viscount stayed here instead of taking up residence in London. You see, Master Garrett and the viscount are half brothers. The place is big enough to house several families.”

Sabrina had been impressed when the moonlit hall had come into view. How late was it? She glanced at the mantel clock. Good heavens—near eleven. What a long and stressful day. Fatigue covered her, but she must eat. She glanced about the room, inspecting it closely. Large and welcoming with the fire blazing. Not feminine in style, but a well-maintained guest room, with its gold curtains and rugs and large wooden bed with intricate carvings of acorns and trees on the headboard.

The Wollstonecrafts were rich. Why on earth had Riordan taken a position as schoolmaster in a small country township? The clothes he wore…of course. She’d chosen to believe they came from a middle class background when in fact he was of the peerage. Was he the heir? Wait…the twins? “Who are the twins?” she asked Helen.

“Why, Masters Riordan and Aidan, sons of the viscount. Master Aidan is away. He is the oldest, and the heir. They are not identical—close enough in looks, but not temperament. Listen to me prattling on, but you are Master Riordan’s wife and it all stays within the family.” Helen stood and held up a large, plush towel. “Here, my lady. Let me dry you off and get you into nightclothes. Your meal awaits. We’ve set up a table by the fire.”

Oh, how she had missed this. For all her brave talk of adjusting to a simple country life, she was to the manor born. But not on this scale. Goodness, Wollstonecraft Hall must be twice the size of Durning House. Perhaps three times larger.

As Helen assisted her into the nightgown and dressing gown, Sabrina dismissed the doing of the day—at least for tonight. She was emotionally wrung out, and all she wanted was to eat a little food and climb into bed.

Helen escorted her to the table. Once she was seated, the maid lifted the chafing dish cover. Slices of beef and dainty potatoes drizzled with what looked to be a red wine sauce. “Tea, my lady? The viscount thought you might like a brandy before retiring.”

“Yes to both.” Sabrina cleared her cluttered mind and concentrated on the meal before her. What she would say to Riordan tomorrow? She had absolutely no idea.

* * * *

In his sixty-four years on this earth, Oliver Wollstonecraft had witnessed much tragedy and heartache, along with venal, illegal, and morally bankrupt behavior from people of all walks of life. But never had he witnessed such disregard for the sanctity of human life than he had yesterday. A man selling his only child. And more than once. His lip curled with disgust. Sutherhorne purchasing a woman as if he were procuring a horse at Tattersalls.

Sutherhorne was bad enough, but it was Durning that gave Oliver pause. Only once in his life had he met such a man: emotionless, lacking in remorse, yet possessing a superficial charm that people often fell for. The arrogance and poor judgment, the selfish need to see to one’s own comforts. The power to manipulate others. The traits applied to Sutherhorne as well; they were peas in a pod.

How unfortunate that the law would not touch Sutherhorne. A marquess was above an earl; Oliver could do nothing to bring the man to heel. Allowing the story to circulate would hurt Lady Pepperdon’s reputation more than the men’s—such was the imbalance in Society. The marquess would bear watching.

“Da?” Garrett asked. “Did you not hear me?”

Oliver shook his head. “Sorry, Son. Deep in thought.”

Garrett snapped the reins. They were riding in the wagon toward Riordan’s residence. “No bloody wonder. My head is still reeling from yesterday. What do you think will be the outcome of this?”

“It’s patently obvious that Riordan loves this woman. It will be between them to decide if the ending will be a happy one.”

Garrett frowned. “He’d be better off cutting ties and going through with the annulment.”

“Ah, the curse. Garrett, you take it too much to heart. And before you start to rattle off statistics, I am fully aware of the death count. I agree caution is warranted, but think on this: If I hadn’t taken a chance on love, you, Julian, or the twins wouldn’t be here. I would be a lonely old man sitting by the fire, drinking myself into oblivion, cursing the fates with my last ragged breath. Is that the future you wish for yourself?”

Garrett scoffed. “Perhaps it is. At least I would avoid heartache and loss.”