Sarah grinned and tossed the dog another crust. “It’s true,” she said. “I didn’t leave any details in the note I wrote Mother. She has no idea where I’ve gone or why I left.”
“Excellent,” Christian replied. “When Mrs. Goatsocks returns, the two of you can go back to London and tell everyone you were merely visiting friends to the north.”
A kernel of hope slowly unfurled in Sarah’s chest. She sat up straight and leaned toward him over the table. “Do you truly think that would work?”
Mr. Forester propped the poker next to the fireplace. “I think there’s no reason whatsoever not to try. Your mother certainly wouldn’t want to contradict you, would she?”
“Absolutely not. Scandal is the last thing my parents would court. Why, they’re more concerned with their reputations than with the air they breathe.”
“Perfect,” Mr. Forester said. “I suggest you do just that. Much more outlandish things have been known to be believed by the good people of theton. Fergus and I will never tell what we know. You may depend upon it.”
An enormous smile began to form on Sarah’s face. It started as a small quirking of the lips and soon spread into a wide grin that reached nearly from ear to ear. “Oh, Mr. Forester. Thank you for your hospitality. I’m certain I shall never be able to properly repay you for your kindness.”
He crossed back over to the table, braced his hands against the back of the chair he’d been sitting in, and met her gaze. “I’m not entirely certain about that.”
***
Christian watched as the smile slowly faded from Lady Sarah’s face, to be replaced with a look of confusion. Her brows were drawn together and her smile had turned into a frown.
“How could I ever be able to helpyou?” she asked.
Christian scooped up his wineglass from the table and made his way back over to the counter where Sarah stood with the wine bottle. He refilled his glass, emptying the bottle. “I find myself with the opposite problem from yours.”
“The opposite?” Her hands braced against the counter, she eyed him warily.
“Yes,” Christian replied, taking another long sip from his glass. “As I said, I am whatever the opposite of the most eligible bachelor of the Season is.”
“Why exactly is that?” she asked, still blinking innocently at him.
“Would you believe me if I told you that I normally have an unfortunate habit of stuttering whenever I am in the company of a beautiful female?”
“I haven’t heard you stutter once. Oh…” She trailed off, obviously wondering if he foundherbeautiful enough to stutter in front of.
“Present company withstanding,” he hurried to reply. “I daresay you shocked me by breaking into my house. It may come as a surprise to you, but I’ve never had a beautiful woman do that to me before.”
She laughed and clapped a hand over her mouth. Then she asked hesitantly, “I don’t scare you?”
He shrugged. “I suppose not.”
He smiled at her. She smiled back.
“You seem perfectly nice to me so far,” she replied. “Well, aside from that bit when you threatened to toss me into the snow for wolves to eat. But I suppose that was understandable given the circumstances.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, fighting another chuckle. “But my problem isn’t not being nice. My problem perhaps is beingtoonice.”
The look on her face told him she was certain he was half-mad. “Too nice? How could that possibly be a problem?”
“I told you I’ve rescued my fair share of damsels in distress.”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “I have the unfortunate problem of turning into thefriendof all the young ladies I meet. Don’t misunderstand me. I value my friendships, but I would like to find a wife, sire an heir. Locate a female who is interested in being more than myfriend.”
She blushed and after setting down her glass, she turned to walk over to the fireplace. “I’m not certain I follow, Mr. Forester. How do you think I might help you with that?” She swung around to face him again.
He met her gaze, a challenging glint in his eyes. “I want you to advise me. Help me become eligible. Teach me what a young lady such as yourself is looking for in a mate. I promise not to be a bore and talk about myself overly much.”
“Oh, but I—”
