The Wife He Always Wanted (30 page)

“I did not hear a rattle in his lungs, which is a common occurrence when someone breathes in a fatal amount of smoke. I did, however, discover soot in his throat, leading me to believe the throat was burned when he breathed in the hot air. It probably caused a restriction, rendering him unconscious.”

“How serious is this burn?” Lord Seymour asked.

Mister Meath shrugged and collected his bag. “I cannot say. If he does not come around in the next few hours, his condition may be permanent.” He walked to the door. “I shall return tomorrow morning to check on him.”

Lord Seymour showed him out. Brenna and Lady Seymour sat on the other side of the bed. “He will not die,” the countess said.

Brenna touched his shoulder. “We still have years of arguing ahead.”

Laura and Noelle and Simon stood nearby. “I have not had time to know him well,” Laura said. Simon put his hands on his wife’s shoulders. She leaned back against him.

“When he is recovered, I will kill him for playing hero,” Simon added, his voice heavy. “He always was reckless.”

The door opened. Sarah lifted her eyes to Gavin’s arrival. He was covered in soot. His clothing was ruined. She met his eyes. Hopefulness extinguished with his head shake.

Gavin crossed to Sarah. “Both Brown and Solange perished. Fitch saw no one escape. Their bodies will be retrieved once we can raise the ship.” Noelle took his arm. “The schooner is lost. We managed to save the sloop docked beside it from the fire.”

Sarah dropped her chin onto her hands where they clutched Gabriel’s arm. She was so weary, so heartsick. She despaired over Gabriel’s condition and the death of Mister Brown. He had proven to be a good and loyal friend to her father; to her. If only she’d realized it sooner.

Low voices hummed in the background as she watched Gabriel struggle for breath. “You have to fight this, love. I will not accept a life without you.”

Gabriel coughed in his sleep. Over the next few hours, Sarah and Lady Seymour wiped bits of expelled soot from the corners of his mouth and prayed. Occasionally, there’d be a pause between breaths and Sarah would come out of her chair in fear.

The breath following came with her relieved sigh.

“I do not know how much of this waiting I can manage,” she said to the countess. “I feel like I should do something more.”

“Talking to him is a great help,” Lady Seymour assured her. “He needs to know you are here at his side.”

Sarah lifted her gaze. “I love him. I cannot lose him.”

Lady Seymour smiled from across the bed. “I remember when we first met and I asked you if you loved my son. You said no. I admired your honesty then. Despite your situation, I had faith that you would grow to love my son.”

Smiling softly, Sarah squeezed his hand. “I tried not to fall in love. He can be overbearing and protective. I am stubborn and guarded. In those respects, we are very different. But my heart would not listen.”

“Do not let doubts into your marriage. Brenna and Lord Ashwood had a marriage of convenience. He was stoic; she, full of mischief. Now they have James and could not be happier.”

Sarah watched the rise and fall of Gabriel’s chest, willing him to fight, to open his eyes, to give some sign he was recovering. Sadly, he remained in his stupor.

And the clock ticked on.

Lady Seymour talked to her son, sharing her memories of times of joy in the family. She ordered a dinner tray brought up and forced Sarah to eat.

After a few bites, Sarah noticed the countess pushing her own food around her plate. “You must also keep up your strength, Lady Seymour.”

The fork stopped. “I grow weary of you addressing me as ‘Lady Seymour,’ Sarah. It’s too formal. I’d much prefer ‘Kathleen.’” She averted her eyes. “Or ‘Mother,’ if you’d like.”

Taken aback, Sarah’s heart skipped. “I have never had a mother.”

“I know.” Lady Seymour glanced up. Their eyes met and held. “I would very much like to fill the position.”

Raw emotion flooded Sarah’s heart, and she blinked back tears. “I’d like that, too . . . Mother.”

Brenna arrived and offered to watch over Gabe, but the countess shooed her off to care for James. Noelle, too, came to take a shift and was also sent away by Lady Seymour. “Your baby needs you to rest. Sarah and I will tend to Gabriel.”

It was nearing ten o’clock when Gabriel started twitching. Sarah jumped to her feet. He arched back, made a gurgling sound, and went limp. “Gabriel?”

She felt his chest. There was no sound. “Gabriel!”

The countess rushed in from the sitting room with a handful of clean cloths in her hand. “Has something happened?”

Panic filled Sarah with its cold hand. “Gabriel is not breathing!”

Chapter Twenty-nine

G
abe.” Lady Seymour shook him. Hard. “Gabe, darling, breathe.”

Nothing.

A memory flashed through her mind and Sarah ran for the dressing table. She closed her hand around a hatpin and ran back to jerk the coverlet aside. She reached for his foot, lifted it off the mattress, and jabbed the pin into his heel.

He twitched.

“Thank goodness.” The countess slumped on the bed. She placed her hand over her heart. “What a fright.”

Sarah looked down at the hatpin. “If one pinprick is helpful, a second should be better.” She gave his other foot a jab. He twitched again. She and Lady Seymour watched him.

“He does not look as lifeless as before,” Sarah said.

“The pain roused him,” Lady Seymour agreed.

After a few minutes, his body jerked. “Gabriel?” Sarah patted his hand. “Come now, wake up.” A low groan welled from deep in his throat. His eyelids parted a tiny bit. “That’s it,” Sarah said. “Open your eyes or I will be forced to prick you a third time.”

The countess clapped her hands together and mouthed a whispered prayer.

He blinked a few times then slowly appeared to gain focus. Sarah leaned over him and brought her face close to his. “Have I ever told you how much I love your green eyes?”

“Have I ever told you how shrill your voice is?” The words came out in a hoarse croak.

“My voice is not shrill.” She smiled. Happiness filled her to bursting. “Once you are recovered, I’ll be pleased to show you what a shrill voice truly sounds like. I intend to spend the rest of our lives being argumentative, and contrary, and stubborn. You deserve that and more for scaring the wits out of
Mother
and I.”

Gabriel’s brow went up. Sarah smiled brightly and nodded.

Lady Seymour sniffed, dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, and stood. “I shall go tell the family that you’ll live. All but Brenna will be pleased,” she teased.

Gabriel frowned and rubbed his brow. “All I remember was Solange and a fire. Beyond is blank.”

Sarah explained what happened. Then, “Mister Brown and Solange are dead.”

“Pity, that.” He lifted onto his elbows. Sarah placed a pair of pillows under his shoulders. “He was a good man. He deserved a better fate.”

“I agree. However, I think that no matter Solange’s crimes, he still loved her. He wanted to be with her at the end.” She took his hand. “Sometimes a person cannot help who they love. His love just may have been misplaced.”

“Perhaps.” He knitted their fingers together. “Only he could make that judgment. I, on the other hand, think I have made an excellent choice in spouse.”

“Despite my shrill voice and contrary nature?”

He pulled her arm and drew her down on the bed. She snuggled against him. He was warm and wonderful, despite the slightly smoky scent of his skin.

“Despite those, and more.”

Sarah poked his side. He flinched. “I cannot figure out why I love you so. You are a hateful man. Any other husband would offer his wife compliments and kisses when he arises from near-death. But not my husband. He likes to prick my temper just to see my ire flare up.”

He kissed her head and chuckled. “You are beautiful when you’re angry.” He eased her up so he could peer into her face. “Sarah, my love, you hold my heart. You will never fully understand the depth of my love or how much I cherish the day I appeared on your doorstep. You are the wife I always wanted.”

She sniffed as tears welled and her eyes softened. “You did not want a wife.”

“Can a man not change his mind?”

Gabriel spent that night and the next day abed, while Sarah and the ladies hovered and Lord Seymour threatened him with a whipping if he dared rise for more than brief clips. When the second evening came and they were alone, Gabriel did not need time to return to their more intimate activities. He was quite robust after a full night of rest.

The morning of the second day, the physician deemed him fit, but for a lingering sore throat, an occasional cough, and, of course, a pair of sore heels. The hoarse voice stayed for the better part of a week. Eventually, he was able to speak normally again. Sarah’s favorite part of the return of his voice was when he whispered how much he loved her each night as she fell asleep in his arms.

While he recovered, Sarah spent her time getting acquainted with her new family. Eva, as she insisted Sarah call her, visited several times with her daughter. With two babies under her roof to spoil, Lady Seymour was joyous.

It was during one of those visits that Sarah’s curiosity overcame politeness and she posed a question to Noelle and Eva.

“Please excuse my impertinence, but I cannot hold back my curiosity any longer. Why do the two of you have the same color eyes? I know that you are both related to Gabriel, but what is your connection? That has never been explained to me.”

Expecting a rebuke, Noelle glanced at Eva, who nodded, then answered, “We are sisters.”

Sarah gaped. “Sisters?” This was highly unexpected. “Why is this kept secret?”

“We share a father,” Eva said. “My mother was his courtesan. They fell in love. Then about two years ago, Noelle hunted me down. She’d discovered our connection and wanted to know me. I was not as eager, as my mother is fragile and I did not wish to put her under scrutiny. However, her persistence broke through my resistance and we are now very close.”

“She can be pushy,” Sarah said.

Noelle made a face. “Eva desires to keep our true connection secret for as long as we can. She doesn’t want gossip to harm His Grace. She thinks the circumstances of her birth will hurt him politically.”

“He is a duke,” Lady Seymour interjected from where she played with James and Catherine on a rug by the window. “No one would dare snub him.”

“And he loves Eva madly,” Noelle said. “He cares not about her history. He is proud of his duchess.”

“From what I understand, the duke has a bit of a temper,” Laura added. She smiled sheepishly at the duchess. “He would pummel anyone who’d dare speak ill of his wife.”

“This is my decision to make,” Eva said, her voice firm, but with the tug of a smile. “I will decide when, and if, I ever disclose our relationship.”

With that, the matter was settled. The women changed the topic and chatted about the upcoming Pink Ball. As the last event of the Season, the ball was expected to be quite a row.

“Many families are already packing for wintering in the country,” Lady Seymour said. “This is the last chance this year for mamas to cast their daughters at unattached suitors.”

“Thankfully we have years before Catherine will seek a husband,” Eva said. “I pity the young man who has to ask Nicholas for her hand.”

The men joined them after a meeting at Bow Street.

“The investigation into the fire has been closed,” Gabriel said and poured six brandies. “It was deemed an accident, so Brown and Solange may be buried together. Despite her crimes, he would have wanted her beside him.”

The room briefly fell silent. Solange had paid for her wrongs by her horrible death. Sarah would not fuss over her burial with Mister Brown.

“Fitch received a generous reward,” Gavin said, lightening the moment. He joined Noelle. “The bastard has quit my employment and decided to buy an inn. Damn, he was an excellent worker.”

The duke and Lord Seymour chuckled.

Gabriel turned to Sarah. “Crawford was also in attendance. He gave me some news. He managed to find your father’s accounts with the help of your nanny. Mrs. Fielding vaguely remembered him mentioning something about Scotland being the place to go if a person wanted to hide. All those hills. Crawford thought it worth checking. He contacted a banker he knew who then sent a note to a fellow banker in Scotland. The man, a Mister McBain, was able to discover an account in a bank in Glasgow.”

“How could he find the information so quickly?” Sarah said.

“I’d asked Crawford to investigate the missing account weeks ago,” Gabriel said. “I didn’t want to tell you out of concern the search could come to naught. There is a hefty sum waiting for you.”

“More gowns and fripperies for next Season,” Lord Seymour said. “My wife will be eager to help you spend some of your newfound wealth.”

Sarah shook her head and looked at Eva. “I’d enjoy doing something nice for your school. I also know of several charities where I’d like to make a donation in Father’s name. Although I do love new things, I think the money would be better spent elsewhere.”

There were several murmurs of agreement. “That is an excellent idea, love,” Gabriel said. “Crawford also said that Nanny is thrilled with the repairs to the house, the allowance, and to scold you for not visiting over these last weeks. Once he informed her of the solving of the case, you were forgiven, for now.”

“We will visit soon.” Sarah grinned.

“I would not want Nanny unhappy,” Gabriel said soberly.

The next morning, Gabriel drove Sarah to the cemetery. A haze covered London as the horse clopped through the quiet streets. When they arrived, the caretaker was just opening the gate. He nodded as they passed under the iron arch.

In Sarah’s hand she clutched a small bunch of flowers with the roots intact.

Before they’d left Harrington House, she’d explained, “When I was little, I sometimes pulled up flowers from the garden and gifted them to him to keep on his desk. I thought the room too stark. He’d laugh as I trailed dirt across the polished floor, knowing Nanny, or our housekeeper, Mrs. Wallings, would scold me for the mess.”

“Your father liked flowers?”

“He liked
my
flowers.”

She deeply inhaled the damp air and pushed back tears as the two of them made their way to the grave site. Something odd caught her attention. Another stone was laid out beside her parents. When Father was buried, there were only two.

“How odd. There is a third stone.”

As they closed the distance, she read the name, artfully chiseled in a perfect scroll on the face.

Albert Henry Palmer.

Tears sprang up and flowed unchecked down her cheeks. She looked up at Gabriel and saw his smile and the love for her reflected in his beautiful green eyes.

“Although Albert is buried in Texas, I thought you would want a place to visit them together.”

She pressed a hand to her lips as a sob broke. He pulled her into his arms and she snuggled against his warmth. “I love you so much,” she said through her tears. “This is perfect.”

* * *

T
hat evening the ball was in full whirl, and awash in pink, as Sarah danced with her wonderful husband and laughed with her new family. Her heart no longer ached with regrets. Her parents and Albert were together in spirit, and the murder case was closed. She was confident in Gabriel’s love, and they were working on having a family. It was time to look forward to her future.

“Excuse me, Husband,” she laughed as Noelle tugged at her hand, trying to draw her away from the men. “We are off to the retiring room to primp, share confidences, and grouse about our overbearing husbands.”

He grinned, winked, and turned back to his father.

Lady Seymour, Laura, Eva, and Brenna were already tidying their hair and smoothing their gowns when Sarah and Noelle arrived. Resplendent in varied shades of pink, the ladies made a lovely picture. Sarah’s heart warmed to be part of such a wonderful group of women.

“I have to find out where Martha Clairwood has her gowns made,” the countess was saying. She tugged the puffed sleeve of her gown in place. “Although her pink confection offends the eyes, her seamstress is superb. I am filled with envy.”

Noelle splayed her hand over her stomach. “Soon I will need to have my gowns made by a tentmaker.” Despite her frown, her eyes were alight with happiness.

“Posh,” the duchess said, smiling. “You’ll have months before you’ll waddle.”

Sarah, Eva, and Laura laughed. Noelle sent them a quelling glare. This made them laugh harder. Noelle turned to Eva.

“Laugh all you will, Eva, for I remember when you carried Catherine, your stomach made an entrance a full half hour before the rest of you. You were the empress of the waddle.”

Eva nodded. “I thought I was having twins.” She took Noelle’s hands, her face filled with joy over her sister’s condition. “As my sister, you will likely be just as large as I was, if not larger,” she teased.

A gasp brought the private conversation to an end. Mrs. Dubury, obviously eavesdropping, stepped from behind a screen, her eyes wide as she stared at Noelle and Eva.

“You are sisters?” Her tone was pitched high, as if she’d been given the world’s greatest Christmas gift. She did not wait for an answer. Their faces must have confirmed her suspicion. She snickered with uncontrolled glee and hurried off as fast as her stubby legs could carry her.

Eva’s shoulders drooped. “Our secret is no more.”

“By the time we return to the ballroom, the entire assembly will know the truth,” Noelle agreed. “We knew it would come out eventually. Just not this way.”

“I can ring her thick neck for you,” Sarah offered. “She is a horrid woman. It would please me to do so.”

Lady Seymour stepped forward. “No neck-wringing tonight, dearest.” She peered one last time in the mirror then crossed to Eva and Brenna, took them each by an arm, and escorted them to the open door. “Come, darlings. We Harrington women will face the gossips together, and with dignity.”