Loving Sarah (24 page)

The other three men in the room shared uneasy glances, and Lucky nodded having lived through it with him.

“We shall do our best then,” Michael said.

“Thank you,” Ian said, hoping they’d understand his next request. “To protect Sarah, I wish to keep this marriage a private matter between us for the time being. We can place notices in papers and such after the old man dies.”

“A sister of duke marries the elusive heir to a much-loved national hero, and you wish to keep
that
a secret?” Lucky chuckled. “Good luck, old boy.”

Ian glanced from Ren to Michael, ignoring Lucky.

Michael spoke first. “It might be a little late. I think there was mention of your marriage on the dock earlier today.”

“And newspaper writers from London were there reporting on the race,” Ren added.

Ian just nodded, trying to figure out what he would do now, as the door opened and a footman handed the duke a note. His grace snuffed out his cigar, rose, and tugged at his starched cuffs and waistcoat before buttoning his coat. “If you will excuse me gentlemen, my wife has called for me.”

S
arah waited in her sister-in-law’s sitting room with Lia at her side for a meeting with her brother. He’d wanted to speak with her separately before she joined the rest of the family below. Both women stood when Ren entered the room, and Sarah clutched her sister-in-law’s hand as her brother approached them.

His gray eyes always had a way of frightening her when he was angry. They took on a much darker tone, as they did now. His features seemed relaxed, though Sarah thought she saw a muscle twitch near the corner of his lips. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but in the two months she’d been gone, it seemed he’d aged ten years. For that she was sorry.

“You look well,” he said. Though calm, his voice had the merest trace of a hardened undertone, one she hadn’t heard in a while, but instantly caused her to tremble.

“Thank you, I am.”

“Husband, be kind,” Lia cautioned.

“Kind?” His voice held an ominous edge that warned he was not to be deterred in his chastisement of her. “Was she kind to have left as she did? Scaring me to death?”

“I left a note.” Sarah focused on the thin golden rope fringe dangling from the tieback on the berry-colored velvet curtains behind her brother, unable to look into his eyes. Remorse ate at her for causing her entire family to be upset, truly it did. But at the time she didn’t think about anything but not letting the opportunity pass her by.

“Any number of things could have happened to you,” he countered, that edge becoming sharper, deadlier. “Do you care?”

Unable to speak, she swallowed past a painful lump forming in her throat and nodded. She would not cry. “I am sorry,” she offered as she dropped her gaze to the floor. She truly was too, but she still couldn’t meet his gaze, knowing she’d caused them both such fear and worry.

Her brother sighed before relaxing his stance. Only then did Sarah cautiously lift her gaze to see his lips soften into a sliver of a smile.

“I realize there is much to be done now with regard to notices to the papers and such, but Ian has asked that we not notify the papers as of yet,” Ren said. “He doesn’t want his grandfather to know of your marriage for some reason that is important to him.”

“Are you saying we must keep their marriage a secret?” her sister-in-law asked.

“For the time being, yes,” her brother replied. “Though if we do not hear about the earl’s passing soon, I shall make inquiries as to his condition.

“But first I must ask you this,” her brother’s voice was soft and non-threatening. She looked at him again. “Are you happy, Sarah? Is remaining married to Ian what you wish?”

“If he will have me, yes.”

“Then come downstairs for dinner,” Lia said.

A
fter dinner, Ian asked Sarah’s maid to have a footman bring them a decanter of wine and two glasses, telling the woman she could retire for the night once she’d done that. He followed Sarah to her small sitting area in the corner of the room, lit another candle, then sat in one of the two chairs. She’d been different tonight than she was from that very morning when she was excited and cheering them across the finish line. She was more subdued and distracted than he’d ever remembered seeing her. He wondered what was causing her to be upset and how he could draw her from it.

He started their conversation with, “It will be very different for me to sleep in a room that is not moving.”

“It is,” she said softly. “I haven’t been on the water as long as you have, so I’m sure you will find it more difficult than I to fall asleep. One thing I noticed immediately was that I missed the sound of the ocean moving beneath the open window.” She gave him a shy smile, unlike her normal exuberant self. “It was odd to hear the birds as I was attempting to nap earlier.”

It was almost as though she feared something, but he didn’t know what that could be. Certainly she didn’t fear him. Her brother and the rest of the family were satisfied with their marriage. Did she perhaps fear the future? As he had no home, could it be she felt he would bring her to sea with him? Whatever it was, she had changed significantly from that very morning.

A footman brought a tray with a decanter of red wine and two glasses and was quickly gone. Ian poured and offered the first glass to Sarah, then took another for himself. She took two sips then placed her glass on the fragile-looking table between the two chairs. He would never get used to delicate furniture after years of sailing on a ship and having everything built into the walls and floor. He felt overly large and out of place on pieces such as this, almost as though the spindly legs would collapse under him.

He had to quit avoiding the conversation, but didn’t know where to start. In the end, she broke the ice for them.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that I haven’t been feeling well this afternoon,” she whispered as she looked at her folded hands in her lap. Her subdued countenance began to concern him, because she wasn’t quite this upset below stairs in the drawing room after dinner while he and Lucky spoke of their race.

He thought perhaps something or someone was pressuring her to end the marriage before anyone other than the family knew of it. “Sarah, do you regret our marriage now that we are home?”

“Never,” she assured him. “Please do not think that. It’s just…I….” She stuttered on her reply, and a sadness came over her. Her blue eyes looked darker in the candlelight, and they began to fill with tears. He went to her and knelt at her side.

“What is it, Sarah-mine? Did I forget something? Do, or say, something to cause you to be upset during dinner?”

“No. I realized this afternoon that I’m not” —she began to cry in earnest now— “carrying…a child, and I wanted one very much.”

He sat back on his heels and heaved a great sigh. “Oh Sarah,” he began to chuckle slightly, relief flowing through him. “Is that all? You had me terrified you were regretting the marriage. But not carrying a child? For us, right now, not having a child is a good thing. According to my plan, I will not be home for a great majority of the year, and a child now would be a burden on you.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. “Be thankful.”

She stared at him quizzically, as though he was in the process of sprouting a third eye as she witnessed it. “I don’t understand. I thought all men wanted children. Do you want them at all?”

“Perhaps one day,” he replied. “Though in all honesty, if I have none, I shall be just as happy.”

She didn’t give him time to clarify his statement before she came back with disapproving, almost accusatory questions. “How can you say such a thing, Ian? Why get married if not to have children?”

“If you’ll remember, I wasn’t given much of a choice on marriage. That was inevitable from the minute you threw a leg over my railing.”

Her eyes grew round and large, red-rimmed from crying. She looked as though she’d been slapped. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she formed her reply. “You are right. I…I’m…so very sorry, Ian, that I disturbed your well-planned life. This is all my fault, and I apologize.” She stood and tugged at the bell pull behind her. “If you will excuse me. As I said, I am not feeling well and would have my maid help me dress for bed.”

“You don’t need her,” he said. “I’ll help you as I did on the boat.”

“No, please. I would rather you leave. Perhaps we can talk again when I am not quite so tired, and feel better.” She went to her washstand and dipped her cloth into the clean, cool water, then wiped her face.

He didn’t know much about women, but what he did know from hearing other men talk was that when they were upset at this time of the month, it was best to leave them alone. “Fine. I will return to my boat. When you’re feeling better, send for me. Until then,” he said and bowed to her and took his leave.

He made for the back staircase and found himself next to the kitchen, and he slipped out the door without seeing any other family and went directly to his boat. Once there, Ian found himself pacing his cabin and wishing he hadn’t left. Glancing around his quarters, he noticed her clothing and belongings she’d purchased in New York were gone, all sent to the rented Liverpool house.

When the next day ended and she had not sent a note for him to come back to her side, he thought to give her time to get over her emotions. Lucky stopped by, and the two of them watched several other ships entered in the race return from his steering deck over a bottle of wine. He had no idea what to ask with regard to Sarah, as he’d never had a wife before and didn’t know how to deal with someone who cried for no particular reason.

When another day passed with still no word from Sarah, he asked Lucky how she was feeling, all his friend could say was that Sarah was still at the house and that he rarely saw her as she was keeping to her rooms with an unexplained malady.

They both mused that it was likely a good idea to keep a distance for a few days, as they had no idea if she was contagious or had eaten something that didn’t agree with her.

“What the lass needs is a bit of me porridge,” Seamus said as he moved the sail he was working on, looking for another tear to repair. The man had been on the other side of the railing quietly doing his job and listening in on the conversation.

“That’s not likely to help,” Ian said as he leaned back against the railing of the steps up to the anchor deck and tossed back the ale in his mug. “I think it was your slop that sickened her.”

“If ye really have no idea why your wife is feeling under the weather, then perhaps you’re not as smart as you think ye are,” Seamus muttered, never looking up at him as he pulled his needle through the canvas and tied off the thread to begin another seam. “And you with that university education.”

“Ugh,” Ian groaned. “Don’t you have a family somewhere you can visit, that you have to remain on the boat at all times?” Ian carried his empty mug down to the galley on the way to his quarters. He decided he would pay his wife a visit to find out what was really wrong with her. But first he needed to clean up.

T
he water in her bath was growing cool, and so was the bathing chamber, as Sarah realized the fire had dwindled down to barely glowing coals. Unlike her room in their home in London, or at Haldenwood, this house had only two bathing chambers for the entire home, fitted into out-of-the-way cupboards on the below ground-floor level of the home. The fireplace in the tiny room helped to keep it warm, which made bathing down here tolerable, but she’d rather be at Haldenwood where she could bathe in her own bathing chamber.

She sighed, feeling somewhat better now that her monthly had run its course. This was the shortest and lightest flux she’d remembered having—three days—and she now felt better than she had in a while. A part of her was still angry that Ian hadn’t come to see how she was doing. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember the evening he left. It was the evening of the day they’d returned from the race. She’d been tired, feeling sick to her stomach, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed to sleep it off.

One thing she clearly remembered hearing him say was that he was thankful she wasn’t carrying a child. That revelation was surprising, especially after the comfortable intimacy they’d reached during the return leg of the race. He’d never said he wanted no children. Ever. But this, and the fact that he’d initially thought she’d forced his hand in marriage, both hurt deeper than she could express. She’d cried into her pillow each night after Trudy had gone to bed, then woke the next morning with red, puffy eyes and a splitting headache as wide as the Thames.

How could she tell her family that she might have made a mistake in marrying him? Lia and Elise knew how much she loved children. She’d always wanted a great many of them, and until she met Ian she thought she might have a chance to have them. But the way things stood right now that was not likely. And it tore at her soul. It cut at the very reason for being a woman. Why else would a woman suffer these blasted courses each month if not for the promise of a child when she married?

She needed to speak with Ian and find out if this was something he felt strongly about. A part of her doubted it, because he’d used no protection, and she’d heard there were things that could prevent this, though they were not mentioned in that erotic book of his.