She released his hand and stood up, twirling around. “The answer is right in front of you—you’re sitting in a library. If you feel that you lack knowledge, begin reading. Or ask questions. I have never met a man who didn’t wish to explain some subject to me in great detail.”
A reluctant laugh broke out of his throat.
Sarah grinned back at Christopher. “You think I jest, but the better listener you are, the better conversationalist people willbelieve you to be. Everyone loves to speak. Only a few people understand the value of listening.”
Christopher was a good listener. Perhaps she was right. He did not have to worry about making conversation or appearing to be smarter than he was.
Coming to his side, she put a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped a little. “But you will have to make the first move toward friendship with both gentlemen. Even though you are new to the neighborhood, they will perceive you as holding a higher position than themselves because you are the owner of a grand estate. They will wait for you to speak to them and invite them. Don’t be afraid to make the first step toward friendship.”
Her hand was still on his shoulder, and he felt the urge to cover it with his own. He liked her touch and when she stood near to him. Sarah’s presence had nearly made him forget what he’d been working on before she’d arrived. Christopher picked up the stack of papers and flipped over the first page. Mr. Wigan had shown him the portrait of Lady Manders. Christopher had done a sketch of her, adding shadowing to show her increased age. The woman would be double the age now that she was when she’d modeled for the painting.
Sarah dropped her hand from his shoulder and picked up the sketch. Her eyes searched it before she held it to her chest. “How?”
His drawing had reduced his loquacious bride to only a one-word sentence. He’d never thought to see Sarah speechless. She always seemed to have so much to say. Picking up his pencil, Christopher fiddled with it. “As a drafter, you have to make a pretty accurate map of the area for the building of a canal. I got to be rather handy with a pencil or charcoal. I thought perhaps that if I sent out a picture of your mother, we might have more success. I plan to commission an artist to carve a woodprint of it to distribute with the advertisement from the publisher.”
Silently, Sarah held the sketch out and devoured it with her watery eyes.
Christopher feared it was not good enough or that it did not accurately reflect the missing countess. “I can make another. I was merely guessing how she might have aged, from her portrait. I don’t need to send it to be made into a woodprint yet.”
Sarah took a shuddering breath and attempted to hold in her tears. He’d tried to help her, and he’d only made it worse. He knew that finding her mother was the most important thing in Sarah’s life.
“I only meant to help.”
Sarah startled him by pressing a soft kiss against his temple and placing the sketch on his desk. “It is perfect. Might I have the original after the woodprint is created?”
“Of-of course.”
She stepped back, her hands fisted. “I shall go and change for dinner. I heard from Mrs. Harmony that a tailor arrived this morning to bring all your coats in. I daresay you will be the best dressed at tonight’s meal.”
Christopher groaned and she laughed softly. He watched her walk to the door and pause when her hand touched the knob. She glanced back over her shoulder at him. “Helping me find my mother means the world to me. I cannot thank you enough, Christopher.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I am your husband. It is my duty and my pleasure to help you in any way.”
Nodding, she left the room and closed the door behind her. Christopher’s hand moved to his temple where Sarah had pressed a kiss. They had not kissed on their wedding day. Only the one time when they had sealed their bargain. But this gentle caress made him realize how much he wanted to kiss her again.
Chapter 12
“You don’t need to thankme. I am your husband. It is my duty and my pleasure to help you in any way,”Christopher had said. The words kept rolling around in Sarah’s mind as Nelly tugged her hair with her brush and smoothed the back into a chignon. Sarah had never expected her husband to voluntarily help her. Even if she’d married the Marquess of Ingress or a different suitor. A wife was not considered to be a husband’s equal in law or in marriage. A husband was the master in all ways. He could do with her what he pleased, treat her however he wished—even, sadly, beat his wife to “correct her behavior.”
Papa hadn’t physically injured Mama, but he’d been controlling in every other way. He’d wanted to know where she was at all times and whom she spoke to. Aunt Venetia had said that Papa had loved Sarah’s mother greatly—but it wasn’t love. It was obsession. If Mama was asked by a duke to waltz at a ball, her father wouldn’t let her receive visitors for a week. If Mama spoke well of a footman or a groom, they were immediately dismissed.
Her father had even been jealous of the attentions Mama had shown Sarah. He didn’t like when her mother had focused on any person other than him. That was the reason he’d sent Sarah to school at the age of eight despite Mama’s tears and pleadings. And the more her father had tried to control every aspect of her mother’s life, the more Sarah had grown to hate him.
She knew what her parents had fought over that fateful night when Mama had disappeared. Papa had used Sarah’s dowry to pay off his gambling debts of honor. There was not even a farthing left of the thirty thousand pounds that had been set aside to ensure his daughter’s future—money that had comefrom her mother’s portion. Mama had been beyond livid. Sarah had never heard her raise her voice before, nor fight with Papa, despite the restrictions he had made on her every movement. It was only when he’d diced away his daughter’s security that Mama had broken all of her rules. She’d yelled at Papa and told him that she would never forgive him. Then she’d left the house to go on a ride alone, something that Papa had never let her do. Mama was a capital rider. There had been no reason for Sarah to be worried, even after Mama had been gone for several hours. She often rode to release her frustrations. She’d once told Sarah that on the back of a horse was the only place that she felt weightless and free.
“There,” Nelly said, tugging on a curl. “All finished. You’re as pretty as a picture, Sarah. You’ll have Mr. Moulton eating out of your hand.”
“Like a horse?”
Nelly chuckled but then sobered. “I am glad you married him, even if he’s not from the same class as you. I have missed you more than I can say. Manderfield Hall isn’t home without you.”
Turning in her seat, Sarah said saucily, “Yet you refused to come with me to Westbrook Park. Could it be that no place is home without a certain footman named Guy?”
Her old friend colored, which wasn’t like Nelly at all. “He finally proposed to me last night.”
Sarah placed a hand on Nelly’s arm. “The stocking-throwing worked. Would you like to borrow my wedding gown, or shall we go into the village tomorrow and purchase some cloth from the shop?”
“I can’t wear your dress. What will people in the village say?”
