There was a quiet knock on the door of the room he’d chosen to be his study. He set down his papers. “Come in.”
The door swung open, and Sarah entered the room. He hurriedly got to his feet. He’d been expecting a servant. “Sarah. Is there something I can do for you, dove?”
The endearment had slipped out, but she didn’t seem to mind it. His wife’s cheeks turned a pretty pink.
“Nothing, dear Christopher,” she said, and he wished that he were dear to her. That their marriage were more than a bargain for social advancement. “I am only here to inform you that we have been invited to dinner by the Wentworths next Sunday evening, and before you frown, Mrs. Wentworth has assured me that she has included Mr. Brian Robinson and Mr. Harry Whitman in the invitation. I know Mr. Wentworth speaks only of his port, but both of his young male guests graduated from Oxford University and are good conversationalists. I am sure you will enjoy their company.”
How had she noticed that he missed male friendship? Sarah was uncommonly perceptive when it came to people’s thoughts. After only one day in his sisters’ company, she’d taken their complete measure. He wondered how many of his own secrets she’d already discovered.
Christopher frowned. He did wish to enjoy other men’s company, only he was afraid that he would not. He had not gone to university, nor had he attended a public school like Eton or Harrow. Most of his learning had been on the job, and he did not wish for these young men to find him ignorant. “What a thoughtful invitation.”
Sarah came closer to him, and he caught a hint of the lovely honeysuckle scent that she wore. She leaned against the sideof his desk. “For someone who wishes to join local Society, you don’t sound particularly pleased by the invitation. Are you worried about the forks?”
He gulped in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Which fork to use. In our dinners together, I have seen that you are not always certain which utensil is the correct one for the course. You needn’t be embarrassed; we can go over them together.”
If Christopher wasn’t embarrassed before, he certainly was now. His wife proposed to teach him how to use the correct fork, like a child.
Sarah continued. “A little utensil trick my mother taught me is to go from the outside in. The farthest fork or spoon first.”
His toes curled and his chest tightened. “I do not need your help with forks.”
She bit down on her lower lip. “If not forks, then friends. You are worried about how you will fit into the neighborhood.”
Christopher had a twitchy feeling in his extremities and would have left the room if it hadn’t been his study. “You are treating me like a child, and I resent it greatly.”
Sarah surprised him by taking one of his hands in her own. “Do you fear that they will scorn you for your lack of formal education?”
He clenched his teeth. She’d even gotten the words in his head right. Never before had he felt so foolish in another person’s presence. He was the boss. No one had ever questioned him like this. Knew him intimately like this—and in such a short time. His bride had seen through his facade as if he were as transparent as a newly glazed glass window. He could have dug his own grave and covered himself in dirt rather than face his new wife. She looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for his answer. All Christopher could manage was a curt nod.
Sarah sat on his desk, still holding his hand. “You silly man, don’t you realize that they are worried too? You are a famous and wealthy businessman from London. You are older and more experienced in the ways of the world. If anything, they will be nervous to meetyou.”
Christopher hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps his difficulty in making friends stemmed not so much from his lower-class background but from his own reticence. He squeezed her hand and attempted a joke. “Am I such an intimidating figure?”
With her free hand, she brushed his hair from his brow. His pulse leaped. “You are the strong and silent type. People will assume that you are uninterested or even rude. Mr. Brian Robinson, for example, is newly graduated from university, and this is his first position in the church. His knowledge is all theoretical; I am sure he would be grateful for the perspective of a man of the world.”
“And Mr. Whitman?”
She placed her second hand on top of his. He liked the feeling of being touched by her. The shape and weight of her hands on his. The satin softness of her skin.
Exhaling, Sarah said, “Mr. Whitman’s hair is brown, but his sideburns are as red as Ralph’s curls. He is a shy man with a little stutter that he is very self-conscious about. I believe poor Mr. Whitman has felt very isolated in the neighborhood before now. He is the only gentleman of Eden society in his twenties, and he is also unmarried. He doesn’t have much in common with middle-aged married men who have children nearly his own age.”
Christopher’s toes uncurled in his boots. The irritation that had tightened every muscle in his body loosened. Sarah wasn’t trying to be condescending; she was trying to help him. And her words had lightened his concerns. Or, rather, her perspective of him. Christopher usually focused on what he lacked: high birth,education, and formal manners. His bride instead shined a light on what he had to offer in a friendship: experience, travel, and his reputation. He did have something to share with these young men.
“Besides being shy, what is Mr. Whitman like?” he asked.
Sarah tilted her head to one side. “I confess, I am not well acquainted with him. I know that he has a stud farm and raises horses. I have always felt that he was fonder of the animals he cares for than of people. But he is a kind man.”
Christopher fought down the urge to smile at her wit. “And he is well educated?”
“His mother made sure that everyone in the neighborhood knew that he had received a first at Oxford and was awarded with the title Senior Wrangler. I can’t recall whether it was for mathematics or something to do with the natural sciences. Mr. Whitman has never mentioned it himself. He is not one to boast, nor to speak above his company.”
Christopher sighed. The man sounded like a clever cove. Christopher was decent at mathematics, but he left most of that to his bookkeepers. And as for the sciences, he knew nothing about them at all. At the moment, he’d rather dig a canal by himself than attend the garden party or dinner.
Raising one eyebrow, Sarah said, “You’ve grown silent.”
“If I don’t speak, then they won’t know what I am lacking in education.”
