He wandered down the stairs and followed the sound of music to Sarah’s favorite sitting room. Except that she wasn’t there. Only his sisters were. Margaret was playing the piano and singing the alto part, and Deborah’s strong voice soared above hers in a sweeping soprano. The entire effect was lovely. Even lovelier that they were working together as opposed to competing with each other. He attributed the transformation between his sisters to his wife and recalled her words about showering them with love and attention. Christopher’s mother had been loving, and he could be too.
When his sisters finished the song, he clapped loudly and said, “Brava! Brava! I have never heard a better performance. Not even in London.”
A pretty pink stole into Margaret’s cheeks.
Deborah didn’t blush, but she beamed back at him. “We were rather good, weren’t we? The next time we attend a dinner party, Margaret and I will be ready to present with all the other young ladies.”
“You don’t wish for Sarah to accompany you on the harp?”
Margaret stood up. “Sarah is always welcome. We just—Deb and I thought that she was surprised to be asked is all—as a married woman.”
Exhaling, Christopher nodded. Now that he came to think of it, the haughty and horrible Mrs. Wentworth had not asked his sisters to perform—Sarah had insisted that they join her. His wife had ensured that his sisters were not snubbed or left out. It had been his lucky day when his solicitor had suggested that he purchase Manderfield Hall. He had not known then that Sarah would come with it, nor that she would be a constant source of warmth and joy in his life. But she was.
He walked over to Margaret and held out his arm to give her a half hug. He waited for her to acquiesce by moving toward him before he pulled her close to his side. His father had not beenaffectionate, and Christopher was probably going about it all wrong, but before he could let go of Margaret and hug Deborah, his littlest sister claimed his other side and squeezed him tightly.
Christopher spoke to the tops of their heads—it was easier that way. “I, um, don’t always say how I feel. But I want you both to know how much I love you and how grateful I am to be the brother of the two most accomplished young women in the county.”
Margaret tipped her head up to look him in the eye. She wrinkled her nose as she smiled. “Did Sarah tell you to say that to us?”
A smile danced on his lips. His sister was as sharp as his wife. “Not precisely. She, um, did mention that it was important to express how I feel to those I love.”
Margaret rolled up onto her tiptoes and kissed Christopher’s cheek.
Deb copied her and asked saucily, “Have you told Sarah yet that you love her?”
“She is my wife.”
“You haven’t realized yet that you love her?” Deb pressed. “She makes you happy, Chris, and no one else makes you smile.”
Dropping his arms, he stepped back. Christopher admired his wife. He respected her. He was grateful to Sarah for how she treated his sisters and helped nudge them toward womanhood. His pulse quickened in her presence, and he loved how she smelled. Even more, he loved how his fingers tingled with sensation when he touched her silken skin. And when her perfect lips had touched his imperfect ones, the warmth he’d felt throughout his body. He had never known such pleasure, nor such joy.
But their marriage bargain had not been for love. It had been for Manderfield Hall and his sisters. Did Sarah want more from the connection? Christopher was reluctant to offer his heart onlyto find it rejected. And if his wife spurned his words of love, their perfectly happy existence would be ruined. There would be no more cards, spillikins, or hide-and-seek as a family. The easy and comfortable atmosphere of their home would be stifled and constrained. Christopher had never been so happy before. It seemed foolish to want or to ask for more than what he’d already received from Sarah.
“I believe Sarah is fond of you as well,” Margaret said in a quiet voice. “She seems to light up when you enter a room.”
He rubbed his mustache and the scar beneath it. “Her countenance is always bright.”
“True,” Deb said, poking his arm with her pointer finger. “But Margaret is right too. Sarah practically sparkles when you are near her, and I overheard her telling Miss Mills how handsome she finds you. Then Sarah and her maid both giggled like a pair of schoolgirls.”
Did his wife truly find him handsome?
Christopher knew his sisters were trying to be helpful, but he could not think of a time when he’d felt more uncomfortable, nor more revealed, with or without a bathing suit. And he hated feeling vulnerable in front of anyone. He preferred to hide his physical flaws behind his beard and his emotions behind a wall of reserve.
“I am going for a ride to stake out Sir Oscar’s artificial lake. I shall be gone for most of the afternoon.”
Deb plunked down on a sofa. “I daresay Sarah will keep us company.”
Pulling at his collar, Christopher said, “She will be joining me.”
Margaret sat next to Deborah and simply raised her eyebrows.
Feeling the heat rush to his face, Christopher turned his gaze away from his sisters and out the closest window. His sisters laughed together, and despite his great discomfort, he was gladthey were getting along so well. He hoped Sarah and he would too.
He left the room abruptly, and when he closed the door, he heard more laughter. Christopher hadn’t felt so embarrassed since before his first mustache had grown. He’d been teased mercilessly as a child for his scar. One neighbor boy had even called him a monster. He thought of his beautiful wife. How could a lady love a monster? Or an imperfect man like himself?
“What are the girls laughing about?”
Christopher jumped. He had not heard Sarah walking up to him, but there she was at his elbow, wearing her purple riding habit. He was grateful that his reaction had not been to flatten her to the floor with his elbow. He did not like being surprised.
