Page 26 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

Riordan did it. Everything he’d promised. How could she ever repay him? Perhaps she should raise his share of the settlement to twenty-five percent. He deserved it. But now was not the time to broach the subject. His expression was thunderous, and peppering him with questions could annoy him further or lead him to believe she did not trust him. How surprising to find she did. Yet fear lingered.

Shortly after Mary and George emerged, Riordan helped load the few pieces of luggage and assisted Mary into the rear of the wagon. With a quick, fluid movement, Riordan sat next to Sabrina on the bench. He snapped the reins and they were off. “I am sorry you witnessed my temper. You must never think I would turn it on you. I will never harm you. Believe it.”

Oh, she wanted to believe him. “It is not easy for me to trust any man, but I will endeavor to do so with you,” she said.

He gave her a quick glance and nodded. “Before I came here, I met with one of the board members and they granted me Friday afternoon. We will leave for London then,” Riordan said.

“You must keep an account of the costs you’ve been incurring, postage, the inn, the loss of salary. I will reimburse you immediately, from the settlement.”

Riordan did not reply. His expression was stony and hard to read.

“There is a settlement?” she asked worriedly.

He patted his pocket. “I have it all in hand.”

He’d said that earlier. Did he have the signed contract in his pocket? Was that the reason he patted his coat? “Thank you, Riordan.” Her voice quivered with emotion.

He clasped her gloved hand and kissed it. “It was my distinct honor.”

Her insides fluttered. Be open to new emotions, Mary had said. Dare she allow it? No. She could not open her heart to this attractive, principled man. It was far safer to feel nothing at all. No chance of getting hurt. As she pulled her hand from his she took a deep breath. Exhaling, she marveled at the fact of how easy it was to breathe. She gazed at the road ahead. Her future lay open for this first time in her life. Sabrina couldn’t wait.

* * * *

Riordan made it to his cottage close to eight o’clock. Garrett immediately jumped from his chair and crossed his arms. “Right. You had better tell me all, Nephew.”

Riordan removed his hat and wool muffler and hung them on the hook by the door. “May I eat first?”

Garrett pointed to the table. “Sit. I’ll serve you, I’ve already eaten.”

With a weary sigh, Riordan sank into the wooden chair. God. He had pulled it off. Reaching in his side coat pocket, he pulled out the form he’d made the baron sign before Sabrina came downstairs. It was an utterly useless endeavor and could not be enforced, for there was no payment at all. But if Sabrina asked for proof, he could show her the fake paper. Lying made his insides roll with nausea. But she had been through enough, why add to her misery?

After settling Sabrina and Mary at the inn, he decided on his way home he would instruct William to use ten thousand pounds of his inheritance and pass it off as the dowry settlement. In reality, he should come clean, tell her the truth, and give her the money outright with no marriage needed, temporary or not. But he knew enough about her to surmise she would not accept the money as a gift, or even a loan. She was as stubborn as he.

He wanted to protect her and give her the chance to start a new life. Most of all, he wanted to erase the look of fear that haunted her beautiful eyes—his rare flash of temper had not helped matters. Cursing inwardly, he admonished himself for allowing the baron to bait him.

Deep down he knew that he cared about her, about what would happen to her. The transitory marriage would give him time to convince her to accept the money. Or perhaps he wanted to know her better, see if the sparks of attraction crackling between them could lead to something more…permanent. Yes, he was seriously considering this option.

It would be challenging. Sabrina Durning Lakeside had tucked her heart away years ago in order to protect it. He may not be able to find her heart and breathe new life into it. Every touch of her skin inflamed his passion to greater heights. How deluded he had been to think progressive causes alone would stir him. Never did he realize an emotionally closed off widow would make him feel more alive than…anything.

Garrett set the bowl of stew in front of him, along with a small plate of bread, then sat opposite. “Well? Do I have to drag it out of you, Nephew?”

Slipping the folded paper into his coat pocket, he gave his uncle a sly smile. “I agreed to assist Sabrina in extricating herself from an unwanted marriage to an abhorrent marquess, and at the same time rescue her from the clutches of her greedy, detestable father.” He shrugged as he sprinkled pepper on the beef stew. “Mission accomplished.”

Garrett reclined in his chair, regarding him. “There is no money. The marquess was to pay the baron for his daughter. Completely repugnant and illegal, I agree. But what is the widow to use for money? How will she live? I assume she is penniless. How do you factor into this, besides being her knight?”

Riordan didn’t want to lie, as he would be doing enough of it in the next three months. “I am going to marry her.” He shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth.

Garrett jumped to his feet. “Have you gone mad?” he cried. His uncle started to pace.

“Temporary only. We will seek an annulment in three months. She will receive the money when the marriage is dissolved.”

Garrett stopped pacing. “What money?”

“The money I’m going to give her.” He explained the situation as his uncle slowly slumped into his chair, his expression incredulous. By the time Riordan finished the stew, he’d concluded his narrative.

To his surprise, Garrett laughed, but soon sobered. “You’re deluding yourself if you believe you can stay detached from a young, nubile widow in this tiny cottage. I assume she’s attractive?” Riordan nodded. “Have you heard nothing I have told you the past several years? Women are poison. They infect your heart and soul, then leave you all alone. The curse is real.”

Riordan scoffed. “Jesus, Garrett. Not the curse again. I cannot believe you take that fairy tale seriously.” Though he had to admit: he half believed in it himself.