Loving Sarah (39 page)

According to Lia and Elise, their impression was that he was remorseful for not clarifying his feelings for her. He’d said he was hoping she would not remember his accusation before their marriage, his harsh words, and careless sentiments that evening in Liverpool.

He went on to say that by not mentioning these things to her, he was hoping to spare her from upset.

How did he think that lying to her—even lies of omission—would spare her from hurt? Especially because he knew her memories had been slowly returning and that she would eventually remember all. Perhaps he’d hoped to buy some time, making her fall more in love with him, by omitting the full details of their relationship.

And that was what bothered her. She wanted to know his reasons for not telling her. She wanted to know what he had hoped to gain by pretending to be the happy husband, concerned for her well-being. He hadn’t cared a smidgen about how she felt that last evening at the rented house in Liverpool. His only thought was of his own joy to discover that she was not with child.

He didn’t give her an opportunity to share her being upset or to cry on his shoulder—things she believed most husbands did. She had needed him that night, and he was trying to convince her she should be happy as well.

All of that had indeed been very stressful on her, and she was sure it had had a negative effect on her condition at the time. But she was stronger now.

She had so much more to smile and laugh about these days. She had Maura—the only bright spot in her currently troubled mind. And except for this last bit of troubling memories, her life really was idyllic. She reminded herself of this daily because she really believed it was better for her mind and thus her physical health, to help her carry this child to full term before delivery.

She smiled to herself as she thought about what Ian would say when he learned she carried again. According to Lia and Elise, they were sure all would be well now, and since reading their letter, she felt sure about it too.

But there was one more issue that her husband knew nothing about, and she was unsure how he was now going to react to what she’d done. His grandfather, the Earl Mackeever, and his widowed daughters, Lady Royce and Lady Stone, had arrived two days prior.

Having known both ladies her entire life, she knew they were a delight at the dinner table and in private. But the earl was a conundrum she’d yet to figure out.

With a straight back and head held high, the aged earl still carried himself as a very proud naval officer. Sarah could tell that he’d once been a strapping big man, just like her husband, but during the last few years, his condition and his age had stolen the heft off his frame. His gait was stilted as well because he walked with a prosthetic and a cane, but his presence commanded that he not be judged any less a man because of it.

Sarah knew upon meeting him what a kind soul he was. She’d heard the story of the commander, a much-loved national hero, saving the lives of his crew as his ship sank during the American war—an act for which he’d been given the navy’s highest honors and an earldom from the old King George. Now the earl was aged and infirm, with not many days left ahead of him, and he had risked those remaining days to travel to Greenwood for this chance to speak with his grandson.

He’d also welcomed the chance to come south, he’d said, to enjoy the warmer climes, and to meet her especially after everything his daughters had said about her. “My last days are upon me, I acknowledge that. It is my hope to mend the fence with the man about to take my title. I do not dispute that there are issues to resolve, misunderstandings to clear up, and an apology to make on my part. But it is time, and seeing as he will not come north, I accepted your invitation in hopes you might aid me in this last quest.”

Sarah was going to make it happen—for him, and for her husband.

Rounding the bend to enter the summer garden which was in full bloom. Sarah caught a glimpse of an elegant and well-dressed gentleman as he descended the steps onto the lawn. She knew it could not possibly be Ian, for he always wore casual clothing due to the nature of his chosen profession. He also was more than a bit of a miser, and this man’s clothing appeared tailor-made to fit his tall, muscular form. Likely he was the courier, sent by her brother with papers for her to sign.

But as the man drew closer, she realized he was not the usual messenger from Ren’s solicitor’s offices. Placing her hand over her eyes to block the glare, she squinted in an attempt to distinguish who else it might be. His hair was of an undetermined light color and combed back neatly. And Ian, though always clean and well-groomed, had a more rugged appearance. His hair was always just a bit shaggy, and he usually had a short growth of stubble because he hated shaving. She’d once told him that he wouldn’t have to do it himself if he’d hired a valet. His reply had been that one needed the income to support servants if one wanted to have them.

She squinted hard into the sun and finally recognized one thing about him, her husband’s intent, purposeful stride. It could be no other man.

He had come.
Her heart leaped in her chest, and her body quivered where she stood.

She caught herself before she ran to him. Turning the pram she walked in the opposite direction from him while she tried to figure out what he’d done. He appeared so different. So…gentlemanly. Modern. Normal. Where was
her
Ian? The man she’d fallen in love with? The man whose shirtsleeves were usually rolled to his elbow, who never wore a waistcoat—and scandalous though it was, often not even a coat in summer. Where was the man whose trousers were old but serviceable and whose boot leather was never polished to the shine this man’s had?

If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it was
not
her husband, but someone else masquerading as her captain. She wanted the man she’d fallen in love with aboard
Revenge
. The man who was rough around the edges and relaxed in her presence. The man whose heart was tarnished because of neglect, but whose pride was often too rigid to allow her to love him.

When he drew close, his eyes grew soft and he smiled. It was the same man without a doubt. His left cheek dimpled slightly when he gave a genuine smile. And this was as unfeigned a smile as she’d ever seen.

As her heart began to melt at his nearness, Sarah had to remind herself she was still angry with him. He’d lied to her. Well, perhaps not outright lied, but lying by omission was still lying. Wasn’t it?

“You are a vision, Sarah-mine. You grow more beautiful each time I see you.” He kissed her cheek, and the warmth of his lips sent a tingle through her body.

She was supposed to be angry, she told herself. Angry women do
not
melt inside when a man uses an endearment.

“I remember it all, Ian.” The words slipped from her lips. She really didn’t want to start off on this foot. It would cause nothing but discord, and that wasn’t what she intended.

“I know.” He appeared chagrined.

“What do we do now? Where do we go from here?”

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She’d always had a fire to her eyes when she was mad at him, and he remembered dousing those flames with kisses. They were some of his fondest memories. He wondered if that would work now.

Just as he moved in to try, Maura began squealing and kicking inside the pram.

“You’ve awakened her.” Sarah sounded miffed.

“So I have,” he replied as he bent over the carriage and caressed his daughter’s cheek. “I see my girl would like a hug from her papa. She’s got her arms outstretched for me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “She just wants out of her carriage so she can toddle off and make us chase her.”

Ian watched as his wife clutched the carriage handle as though his throat were in her grasp. He hoped kissing her anger away would work one more time. He leaned closer, until he felt her warm breath on his cheek. But before his lips could touch hers, an annoyed cry from within the carriage stole her attention from him. Sarah backed away from the conveyance, and Ian lifted his daughter.

“Do you crawl now, Maura?” he asked as he lifted her up and held her in the crook of his arm. He looked at his wife and said, “She’s grown so much while I was away.”

“She’s walking, Ian,” Sarah replied with more than a hint of pride. “She’s catching up with her age markers just as the doctor said she would.” This broke the ice wall she’d constructed around her. Sarah softened slightly and he knew this was the route into her heart. “She’s growing so much and so fast. It’s hard to remember the little darling as she was when I first saw her six weeks ago. She stands in her crib and tries to climb out. And where she’d only had the one molar she now has all four.”

Maura kept reaching down for his watch chain, so finally he removed the thing and handed it to his daughter who studied the closed watch case. “What has Prescott said of her?”

Sarah rescued the watch before it went into their daughter’s mouth. She smiled at Ian. “That she is thriving. He is also optimistic that she should bear no long-term effects of her previous condition.”

“Good. Very good.” He met her gaze over the infant’s head. “And what has he said of your health?”

Sarah’s dark blue eyes grew wide with surprise. Then she blinked and when her eyes reopened again, it seemed as though a shutter had closed on her emotion. “Nothing at all. Why would he say anything about me?”

She was hiding something. Instinct told him now wasn’t the time to question her, but he would before the day was done. “No reason in particular. I was curious how my wife fared, that’s all.”

Sarah turned from him and made busy rearranging the baby’s blanket within the pram. “I am well,” she said. “Very well, in fact, now that my memory has completely returned.”

“I knew it would, eventually.”

“Did you?” She pushed the empty baby carriage as Ian fell in step beside her with his squirming daughter in his arms. “Is that why you pretended to be the concerned, devoted husband? Because you
knew
my memory would return? No, I think you were hoping it would not. Although I haven’t figured out yet why, except for the benefit of my family since you are in business with my brother.”

“You have it all wrong, Sarah.” If she didn’t believe him in this, he didn’t know what to do to change her mind. “Everything I said and did when I returned from China was genuine. I truly missed you and was deeply saddened by the loss of our sons, but so very thankful that you were alive.

“After Lucky informed me of your expectant state, I pushed my men hard and made for home as quick as we could possibly get here.”

A female servant, perhaps the child’s nurse, arrived and held her arms out for Maura, and she placed the toddler in the carriage and pushed it back toward the house, leaving the two of them alone. Sarah dismissed the guard as Ian glanced around the gardens. Spying a side entrance to the house, he directed Sarah up the two steps and into an orangery.

Sarah removed her cloak. The white dress she wore under it complemented her pink cheeks and up-swept golden hair. Ian knew that he’d never tire of looking at her. Sunlight through the mullioned windows shot beams of color onto the crushed stone walkway and her skirts. He followed her to a bench, making sure no one was in the conservatory with them.

“We need to discuss a few things, and I would rather do it free from prying eyes and accidental eavesdroppers.” Once he was certain they were alone, he leaned against a trellis post and smiled. He felt like a nervous schoolboy, happy that she nodded and waited for whatever came from his lips next. “Motherhood suits you, my darling. If it is at all possible, I’d say you are even more beautiful, though I cannot pinpoint exactly what it is about you that looks so different. You’re radiant and…something more.”

At first she blushed, then she took a deep breath and sat on the wooden bench. “Your flattery is not desired right at this moment. As you said we have much to discuss.”

“You are right,” he replied. “Where shall we start?”

“The beginning is always a good place.” Sarah folded her hands primly and settled them in her lap, setting lips in an equally straight-laced fashion.

He’d never seen Sarah nervous like this. She flattened imaginary creases in her day dress with her fingers and would not meet his gaze. He wondered how far back she wanted to go. It was of no use to go as far back as their time on the
Revenge
, so he chose to begin with his arrival after the tea run.

“When we returned from China, I made for the bank to deposit funds, as we do after each voyage, and make the note payment on the boats. Imagine my surprise to learn that you had already paid my portion of the debt in full. I was angry, but by this time I had resolved myself with the fact that you Brits do things differently,” he scoffed. “Lucky has often accused me of being a thick-headed American, but I’d like to think of myself as proud. Perhaps even to a fault.” How did he get across to her the feeling of inadequacy he felt whenever he thought about the fact that her money was funding his half of the business? He just didn’t think it was something she could understand. “I did not want to be known as the impoverished nobleman who needed his wife’s dowry to fund his business venture. I’d told you before, it was a point of honor with me that I do this on my own.”

“Why, Ian? What is it you’re trying to prove? And to whom? Certainly not me. Not to other members of our class, because they do this sort of thing all the time. Men choose which bride to take quite frequently based on the size of her dowry, her connection to certain families, or both. It’s a social and financial arrangement. Sometimes affection will grow between them, but even if it doesn’t, they still marry, produce heirs, and continue to live their lives.”