Christopher offered his arm to Sarah. “Thank you. I know Deb can be a handful.”
Placing her fingers in the crook of his arm, Sarah smiled up at him. “They are both starved for affection and attention. Deborah is naughty so that she is noticed, and Margaret is good, hoping for elusive praise.”
His face felt hot. “I have done my best.”
Sarah squeezed his arm. “I am not judging them or you. I know this because I was once the same way. My father never paid me any heed, no matter how badly behaved I was, nor how angelic I tried to be. My mother showered me with love and compliments, and I eventually outgrew the need for attention. I am sure it will be the same for your sisters. Until then, we will both give them extra love.”
Christopher nodded, because words would not form in his throat. Like Sarah, his own father had not paid him much heed. He’d been embarrassed by Christopher’s facial defect and tried to keep him separated from the other children. Christopher had barely seen Margaret or Deborah before his father’s funeral, and then he’d followed through with Papa’s request to send the girls to school. Where they would still probably be if Deb hadn’t gotten into trouble and he’d swiftly removed them. Perhaps Christopher had been too aloof with his sisters since his father died. Sarah was right. His sisters needed more love. But never growing up with much affection himself, how was Christopher supposed to show it?
Chapter 16
Her husband didn’t mutter evena syllable during the carriage ride to Wentworth Manor. Not that he had much opportunity to do so. Deborah asked a dozen questions about the dinner party—it was to be her first. She wished to know the order of the evening. How large the house was. Whether Miss Iphigenia Wentworth had any siblings. Who else would be attending the party. And she wanted to know which gentleman would be escorting her to dinner. Sarah knew that Brian Robinson and Harry Whitman were coming, but she was certain that Mrs. Wentworth would include another gentleman in the party to make the numbers between the ladies and gentlemen even.
Sarah thought that Mr. Whitman liked Miss Wentworth, and with a little encouragement, he might even propose. She did not know whether the young lady returned his regard, but she was very much aware that Mrs. Wentworth did not. She wished for her only daughter to marry higher than a gentleman horse breeder. She often talked of going to London for a Season, but the Wentworths had never left Eden, and being practically minded, Sarah doubted Miss Wentworth had either the personality or the looks to succeed in thetonmarriage market. She was a pretty girl with soft brown hair and eyes, a light figure, and pleasing manners. But her dowry would not be enough to make the difference needed. As Sarah had told Christopher, grand matches required good connections and a great deal of money.
They arrived at the neat and stylish Elizabethan manor with a redbrick exterior and long narrow windows. It was impressive without being large.
The door to their carriage opened, but instead of a footman, it was her cousin Ralph.
“Flames!”
“Freckles,” he said, pulling her out of the carriage and into a tight hug. “I’ve been a complete and utter mule. I shall mind my own business in the future. Forgive me?”
Sarah returned the embrace before stepping back from him. “Of course, Ralph. And you can begin to earn your amends now. I have two beautiful sisters-in-law who need escorting into their first dinner party.”
Her cousin chuckled and turned back to the carriage to offer his hand to Margaret and Deborah. Sarah thought she saw a hint of color in his freckled cheeks. Despite calling them cits before meeting them, her cousin obviously appreciated their lovely appearances. He offered each sister an arm and jovially escorted them inside the house.
Christopher alighted from the carriage without assistance. There was a line between his eyes and a look of dissatisfaction underneath his well-trimmed beard. Perhaps even jealousy.
Linking her arm with his, Sarah whispered in an undertone, “It would appear that Mrs. Wentworth is trying to snare a baronet-to-be for Miss Iphigenia Wentworth. How furious that lady will be when she sees your sisters are on his arms.”
His mouth curved into his almost smile, and she could see the small scar that marked his top lip. She had the unaccountable desire to run her finger over it. Silly. Sarah and her husband were still getting to know each other, and after only one kiss, she did not dare take such liberties. Christopher was a reserved man, and she wanted to break through his walls. She wished to whisper her own secrets to him, knowing that they would be safe in his keeping. He was a good man and a good brother. And a good husband.
Christopher led her into the house, and they were met by Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth. The master of the house greeted them with a large smile and shook her husband’s hand warmly. Mrs. Wentworth curtsied coldly, and Sarah wondered if the woman had only invited them by way of extending the invitation to Ralph. Her cousin hadn’t mixed in Eden society before, but he would have done anything for Sarah, and the social-climbing Mrs. Wentworth seemed to sense that.
Unsurprisingly, Ralph escorted Miss Wentworth into dinner and sat on her right. Mr. Robinson escorted Margaret, and they seemed to be enjoying a quiet and serious conversation together. Mr. Whitman led Deborah, and the two were laughing boisterously like old friends. During the meal, Sarah noticed Mr. Whitman’s eyes glancing across the table at Miss Wentworth, and the young lady’s cheeks turned a pretty pink. Sarah hoped that despite Mrs. Wentworth’s machinations, the young couple would tie the knot.
After the dessert courses, the ladies retired to the sitting room for coffee while the gentlemen enjoyed their port and cigars. The coffee was as strong as Mrs. Wentworth’s personality and burned down Sarah’s throat. Margaret and Deborah sat on opposite sides of Miss Wentworth, and the three girls appeared to be having a lovely chat together, which left Sarah with Mrs. Wentworth.
“How kind of you to invite us to your party,” Sarah said, forcing herself to smile. “Your home is lovely.”
Mrs. Wentworth sneered. “The new glazing of the windows cost over five hundred pounds.” The historical manor truly was lovely, but it was a cottage compared to Manderfield Hall. The older woman was needlessly putting on airs.
“The entire facade is delightful,” Sarah said. “I particularly enjoyed the picturesque view of your estate. Do I detect the influence of Capability Brown?”
The older woman sniffed before she smiled. “Indeed. My husband hired a landscape architect from London to design it.”
“How wonderful.”
Their awkward conversation was cut short by the entrance of the gentlemen. Sarah had never been happier to see her cousin’s face, nor the handsome visage of her husband. She left Mrs. Wentworth’s side and took Christopher’s hand eagerly. He glanced at her in surprise before gripping it tightly.
Her cousin did not miss the exchange. He raised an eyebrow—a family habit. “I take it marriage is going along swimmingly?”
Sighing, Sarah smiled. “It is. Although, we have yet to go swimming.” She turned to her husband. “Ralph and I swam in the river that leads to Westbrook Park most days in the summer growing up.”
“I recall us splashing together in it only last year. Particularly the deep section by the old oak tree. You should show it to Mr. Moulton, and perhaps he can take you to the spot he marked of where to divert it for the lake. Papa has not forgotten his latest project.”
Christopher bowed his head. “I have advertised for workers. A crew should begin digging as early as next week.”