Seated on the cold edge of the stone pond, her head resting on her up-drawn knees, Sarah trailed her fingers through the calm water. Her shoes lay abandoned next to the stone wall, and her hair was in a tangle down her back, but then who would there be to see such dishevel?
The pond at her parents’ estate had always been one of her favorite places. Her father had the pond installed shortly after their marriage, an early extravagance to impress her mother. Her mother had always claimed the vast expanse of it had impressed her much indeed. Shielded by a copse of trees, the pond had been the scene of many of Sarah’s imagined adventures when she was a girl, and the scene of more adult pursuits when grown. Here she’d first kissed Robert and started the courtship that led to her marriage.
Cold water flowed through her fingers. She wouldn’t think of her husband. If she did, the writhe of emotion that had driven her from Arthur’s chambers, the hurt and fear and confusion that had overwhelmed her, would return. So she would allow the feel of the water to soothe her, and it wouldn’t matter that others believed her flighty, that her father-in-law treated her with contempt, that Robert had let him.
She shouldn’t have fled the chambers, shouldn’t have allowed her fears to drive her, and yet she couldn’t have stopped herself. To be seated in the same room as Robert’s father, to hear his opinions of her, his vile thoughts, and to doubt herself…. She’d been halfway home before she had calmed enough to slow the rapid beat of her heart. Then, from that moment to this, all she could hear was Robert’s father words…and the echo of Arthur agreeing with him.
Crushing her hand into her chest, she tried to ease the pain. That had hurt the most, more than anything Robert’s father could have said, although…maybe Arthur didn’t believe her foolish. Maybe he had said those things for a reason, one she couldn’t discern. But then, he always thought her foolish, hadn’t he? It was why she’d disliked him so as a child. He’d looked down on her and made her feel stupid and small. He’d used his education and position and made it seem he was so much smarter even though he wasn’t. He couldn’t see what was plainly obvious, couldn’t see the plan their mothers had for them. He—
Wrenching her thoughts still, she took great gulps of air. Not again. She wouldn’t allow herself to become wretched again. She’d done that before and it had led her here, to her parents’ house and the comfort of the familiar. She didn’t want this churn, this seethe, this voice inside her that said she was stupid and dull. She’d carved herself a degree of calm and she wouldn’t let it go so easily.
Grimly, she trailed her fingers through the water. She would be calm. She would forget this seethe beneath her breast and all would be as it was.
And it wouldn’t matter that Arthur had agreed.
“Your mother said you’d be here.”
Her hand jerked, violent ripples skidding along the surface of the pond. Keeping her gaze on the water before her, she fought through the frantic beat of her heart and the emotion threatening to crush her. She would be calm. She would. “Did she?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, naked male feet entered the water, followed by naked male calves. Trousers rolled to his knees and forearms bare, Arthur sat on the stone ledge beside her, hands braced on either side of his body. He’d even removed his cravat.
This was…she couldn’t even begin…. “What are you doing?”
“Putting my feet in the water,” he said, as if he did so every day, as if there was nothing shocking about such an action.
But she was shocked. Wholly. “You’ve creased your trousers.”
“I didn’t want to ruin them.”
Of course. He didn’t want to ruin them. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she held herself tight. “Why are you here?”
“For you.” He scooped an arm under her legs. “Lift up.”
She tensed but then allowed him to arrange them so he sat under the arch of her bent legs, her skirts covering his thighs. Pretending she felt nothing more than mild irritation, she said, “This is inappropriate.”
“I can be inappropriate. I just don’t advertise it.” His hands delved under her skirts.
Her breath caught. Sliding his hands up her calf, her thigh, he found her garter and, nimbly, he untied it. The drag of her stocking against her skin made her shiver…or maybe that was just him.
The wall holding emotion at bay wavered. She bit her lip, and the slight pain kept it from tumbling as his fingers danced along her thigh, untying her other garter. Her stocking was just as easily removed and, pushing her skirts up, he slid her feet into the water.
“Is there any reason for this inappropriateness?” she said, determined to hold on to her tenuous control.
“Any number of them.” Moving closer, he braced an arm behind her. “Brace yourself, I’m about to do something truly shocking.” And then he kissed her.
His taste flooded her, familiar and beloved. Arthur. A thousand emotions crashed over her and she could pretend no longer. She was not calm. She was not fine. She was a mess, and his presence brought the truth of that.
Framing her face with his hands, he wiped at her cheeks and frowned at the wetness he found. “Why are you crying?”
Placing her hands over his, she shook her head.
“Sarah?”
She tried to speak but nothing came out.
Thumb rubbing her cheekbone, he placed his forehead against hers.
“He thinks I’m an idiot,” she finally gasped. “He thinks I’m less than n-nothing.”
His brow creased. “Who?”
“Robert’s father.” Again she saw him, his face twisted with anger and dislike, as it had every time she’d seen him since the first moment Robert had introduced her as his wife. “He always thought I was a ninnyhammer, but I’m not, Arthur. I’m not.”
“I know. Hush, Sarah, I know.”
Pain made a gaping hole. “You agreed with him.”
He blinked. “Beg pardon?”
“You said I couldn’t be trusted with the money.” The words cut deep as deep as they had when he’d first said them. “You said I was a fool.”
“I didn’t mean them.”
“But you said them, Arthur. You said them, and he believed you, and now he believes them even more. Every ill thought he’d had of me, every misconceived belief, they’ve been giving validity. He believes them.”
Silence fell, and she closed her eyes, the churn inside her overwhelming.
“So?” he finally said.
Pain, bright and sharp, split through her. His face swum into focus, his brow drawn over hazel eyes. “What do you mean, ‘so’? How can you be so flippant?”
“Sarah—” He cupped her face in his hands. “Why does it matter?”
“I—” Her mind went blank. Because it did was not an answer, but it was the only one she had.
His thumbs traced her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter what others think. All that matters is what you know, and what those you care for know. Everything else is incidental.”
The conviction of his belief was writ large on his features. He truly believed that. So why did it matter? What care had she what Robert’s father thought, what anyone thought? Why did she care so bloody much? Robert’s father had no bearing in her life, not anymore. He’d made her life with Robert uncomfortable, but that life was over now. She had a new life, one she’d made herself, and she knew herself to be clever and strong. It didn’t matter at all what Robert’s father thought.
But it mattered so very much what Arthur did.
“Sarah? All that matters to me is what you know.” He frowned. “You know I don’t believe one word of what he said? You are nothing like he imagines.”
She didn’t know. She didn’t know that he thought her clever and logical and smart and sure. She didn’t know he believed her capable.
“Sarah?”
“I—” Her mind raced as the ache beneath her breast worsened.
Comprehension dawned. “You don’t know.” He shook his head. “Sarah, I know you’re not foolish. My God, you had everyone just as you wanted them when we were young. You put on the appearance of an idiot, but you were anything but. It’s probably why I disliked you so much.”
This was all too much. He…he didn’t… That was why he’d disliked her? “What? Why?”
“Because I could see straight through you, and no one else seemed to.” His lips quirked. “It seems you are exactly like our mothers.”
She drew in her breath. “You take that back.”
His lips curved into a true smile. “No.” His smile faded. “Please believe I don’t think such of you. I never have. You are more capable than anyone I’ve ever known. When we were children, it drove me insane. You arranged every situation to your satisfaction. Every one. I couldn’t stand how you manipulated and organized.”
Uncertainty drove her to say, “Your letters….”
Confusion darkened his features but a moment before they cleared. “What I wrote when at Eton? I wouldn’t trust them. I was an idiot then.” His expression turned sober. “Sarah, you are brave and bright and clever. You know this, yes?”
She searched his face. He looked back at her with a steady gaze. Doubt whispered to her, but she would ignore it. He was Arthur, plain-speaking, logical Arthur. If he believed something, he would tell her. At the very least, she knew that.
She took a breath. “Yes. I know.”
“Good.” He put his forehead to hers. “You drive me crazy.”
“Do I?” Breath shuddering, she forced aside wretchedness in favor of a smile.
“I really dislike craziness.”
Her smile died. “Oh.”
“Sarah, I am logical. You are not. It is an adjustment, but it’s also exciting. I could learn to like it. Love it, in point of fact.”
“Are you certain?”
“Sarah.” He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never been anything else.”
He was, wasn’t he? He was always so certain, and he’d turned that certainty to her. A smile lit her and she hugged him close, glorying in the feel of him. Of Arthur.
With a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Where do we go from here?”
Gentle hands stroked her back. “Well, your battle is done. Wetherall won’t bother you again.”
Apprehension made her pull back. “He said he would.”
“He said that, but he won’t. In any event, if he does, we will launch a countersuit.” He rubbed his chin. “Harassment, perhaps, or maybe a suit that threatens his holdings. He seems the type to value property and wealth over all else.”
“I don’t want anything of his.”
Shaking his head, he said, “Of course you don’t. However, he won’t know that. If he wishes to threaten you again, we will hit him back. Harder.” He set his jaw. “I am an outstanding estate solicitor. I can find loopholes others haven’t even dreamed of.”
A feeling built inside her, one almost too big for her to contain, comprised of joy and gratitude and a million other emotions. Arthur. Her warrior.
He, unromantic soul that he was, didn’t notice. “So I believe we should count this as a win as, for all intents and purposes, it is. We should celebrate, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” He was so dear. “However, I was meaning where do we go with us?”
“Oh.” Consternation looked attractive on him, but then she now believed everything looked attractive on him. How strange it was that she had not always felt this way. “I should like to court you. It’s the way these things proceed.”
Her Arthur. Strong. Dependable. As unromantic as mud. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Well, I should be most amenable to that.” She looped her arms about his neck. “When does your courting begin?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Now?”
“Now,” she said, before his mouth closed over hers.