Exhaling slowly, Christopher broke the seal and opened the letter from his man of business. He scanned through the contents and saw that the bulk of the information was about canal stocks and shares. He also wrote to inform Christopher that his best foreman, Mr. Sinclair, was traveling to the area to begin work on the Randolph canal and lake with a gang of more than fifty canal men. There was only one line at the end that said no creditable information had been received about the whereabouts of the Countess of Manders. He knew that whenever a reward was offered, unscrupulous or desperate folks would try to give false information for coins, but he was fortunate that his man of business had a good head on his shoulders and could discern creditable information from false reports. He wished he had better news for his wife.
He shook his head. “Nothing yet. But it has only been a week. I am sure we will hear something soon.”
“You are right. I am sure it will take some time.” Sarah attempted a smile, but it looked sorrowful. Her sadness pulled at his heartstrings.
Christopher wished to cheer her up, not give her further reason to despair. “You’ll be happy to know that my finest foreman is coming to supervise the creation of your uncle’s lake.”
“Uncle Oscar will be overjoyed,” Sarah said, but then she hung her head, and Christopher knew he had not succeeded in cheering her. “Perhaps Ralph is right. Perhaps my mother is never coming back, and I am foolish to wait for her return.”
Christopher placed a finger underneath her chin and lifted it up so that he was gazing into her eyes. “We will look until we discover the truth. I promise. I will not give up. If you’d like, you and I could travel to the different English ports and ask around in person.”
She shivered underneath his touch. For a moment, he thought it might be in revulsion, that she was rejecting him, but then he saw a tear fall down her cheek. “I can’t leave Manderfield Hall until she comes home.”
“Not even to look for her?”
Sarah shook her head, and another tear slipped from her eye. “I’ve gone for two months of the London Season for the last five years because my grandfather insisted upon it. But every day, every minute, I wonder and I worry.”
Moving his hand, Christopher gently cupped his wife’s wet cheek. “Then, we will stay as long as you need to.”
“I don’t want you to be stuck here too.”
Christopher did not fight his smile. He allowed the edges of his lips to curve upward. “There is no other person I would rather be stuck with.”
Her eyes shined with tears. “Truly?”
“Well, perhaps your Aunt Beatrice,” he said, teasing her. “Ten children, you said?”
“Twelve.”
“Good heavens.”
Sarah gave a watery chuckle, and his heart jumped inside his chest. “Three of them are grown and married now.”
Christopher was reluctant to move his hand from her face. He loved the silken feel of her skin. The way his fingers tingled where he touched her. His eyes dropped to her pink lips, but he did not want to ruin this tender moment. He was here to comfort her, not kiss her. Compromising, he brushed a gentle kiss on her brow.
At last he let her go and got to his feet. “I shall leave you to finish your breakfast.”
He walked two steps before she said, “What are your plans for today?”
Christopher spun on his heel to face his wife. “I had thought to ride over to Westbrook Park and stake out the location of the lake. Would you like to accompany me?”
She leaned forward. “Only if we can go swimming first. I have a blue-and-white-checked linen bathing gown with little weights sewn into the hem to keep it from coming up. I can wear it underneath my riding habit.”
Christopher had seen other women swimming or, rather, wading into the water, but he hadn’t thought ladies did. He was very eager to see her in her bathing gown. “Shall I have a groom bring our horses in an hour?”
Sarah grinned up at him. “That would be perfect, and don’t forget your bathing suit.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Christopher realized he didn’thavea bathing costume. Men usually swam in the nude. He’d never frolicked in the water in the company of a woman. Nay, a lady. And he had no wish to shock his wife, nor to give her a distaste of him by behaving improperly. He would ask his batman what to do.
Entering his own chamber, Christopher pulled on the cord for Mr. Harris. The young man arrived only minutes later, red-faced and breathing hard. Christopher felt his own color rise. Perhaps he’d yanked the cord a little too hard.
Mr. Harris bowed. “Sir.”
Christopher’s hand went to his mouth, and his finger touched the scar on his upper lip. “I am to go riding and swimming with my wife. What would be the proper clothing to wear?”
His batman bowed a second time. “I know just what you require, sir.”
A quarter of an hour later, Christopher emerged from his rooms feeling like a gentleman, not merely a canal man who knew no better than to swim in the altogether.