Page 56 of Temptations of a Wallflower
“How do you expect me to greet this news, Sarah?” her father demanded, sitting on the other side of his desk in his study. His face was set, his hands clasped in front of him. He regarded Sarah and Jeremy, seated before him. The rain steadily drummed against the windows like impatient fingers.
“With joy, I’d hoped,” she answered him as evenly as she could.
“Joy?” Her father exhaled. “By special license, you two have gone and married. There’s no joy to be foundin such an alliance. Duke’s daughters are meant for more than becoming vicars’ wives. And you’ve gone and thrown yourself away, without evenconsultingme.”
The wedding that morning had been small and hasty. Two paid witnesses and the priest. A cold rain falling. Sarah had worn one of her better dresses, but it hadn’t been a wedding gown with acres of lace. Hardly the stuff of girlhood dreams.
“If you’ll forgive me, Your Grace,” Jeremy said firmly. “My father is the Earl of Hutton. Your concern about her stooping to marry me is unfounded.”
“Is it?” her father challenged. “You are a third son. The likelihood of you inheriting a title is practically nil.”
“I have no intention of inheriting,” Jeremy countered. “I have a profession, and one that will provide very well for Sarah.”
“But not in the manner to which she’s become accustomed,” the duke returned.
“Which matters not at all to me,” Sarah threw in.
“You say that now,” her father said pointedly. “With the glow of a newlywed. But what about in a few months’ time, or a year, when the bloom is off this youthful fantasy, and you long for London life—its Society, its pleasures and luxuries?”
“Have I once, in my life, expressed a love of those things?” she disputed.
The duke glanced away. He muttered half to himself, “Always secreting yourself in the Green Drawing Room whenever you’ve got the chance. I don’t know what you do in there all day.”
“Things that don’t require London Society, pleasures, and luxuries,” she noted, glancing quickly atJeremy. No one could ever know—not her husband, not her family—what she did in that drawing room.
Worry and regret stabbed her. Secrets would follow her into her new marriage.
“And what of all the other suitors that offered for you? You rejected them but wedthisman?” her father pressed. He looked at Jeremy. “I must speak frankly, sir. We are talking of the fate of my only daughter, and I won’t let social niceties stand in the way of her future security. If the wedding took place only this morning, we could obtain an annulment.”
Before Sarah could speak, Jeremy said, his voice hard, “Your Grace, all that matters is Sarah, and her happiness. I cannot promise her fathomless wealth like those other men. Nor a houseful of servants and a carriage of her own. I have only my heart, and my constancy. Those things will always be hers.”
“Prettily said,” her father replied. “But I worry that such sentiment cannot continue through a lifetime together. Status, safekeeping—these are the foundations of a lasting union.”
“Then it shouldn’t matter that I’m the daughter of a duke and he’s a vicar,” Sarah interjected. She gripped the edge of the desk in front of her. “The men you spoke of, that parade of Society’s finest scions, they cared nothing for me. They looked at me and they sawyou,Father. Your wealth, your title. I was simply a cypher. A means of acquiring a country estate and a fine entry inDebrett’s.It wasn’tmethey wanted.”
“But I want Sarah,” Jeremy continued resolutely. The light from the rain made him glow softly, handsome and unyielding. “It doesn’t matter if you approveor not. She agreed to be my wife, and the bond has been sealed before the eyes of God.”
Her father rubbed the space between his eyebrows, as he always did when troubled. Sarah and her father had never been precisely close. He was a man of great consequence, so their paths crossed infrequently. She knew him best from the other end of the dining table—a dignified, slightly intimidating presence that required good behavior and polite, somewhat impersonal conversation. She had always been her mother’s project, not her father’s, so he’d passed Sarah on to the duchess with a distant smile and a pat on the cheek.
This was, perhaps, the longest conversation she’d had with him.
“Father,” she said quietly, “I come to you as a gesture of good faith. I’m of age now. I can marry whomever I like. And I did. But I’d hoped that I might have your blessing.”
The duke knotted his fingers together. “If you’re worried that I’ll cut you off—don’t. Your dowry and inheritance are secure.”
Sarah exhaled, and she was fairly certain that Jeremy did the same.
“However,” her father went on, “you are to leave here by tomorrow morning. You will not be welcome back for six months. Correspondence to me and your mother will be unanswered during that time, as well.”
Her heart sank. She’d known, logically, that she would live elsewhere with Jeremy, yet to be cast out from the only home she’d ever known was a cruel blow. “But—”
Her father stood. “These are the cold facts, Sarah.The decision you’ve made is one I cannot endorse. However,” he added, “I am not without feeling. In time, you may be permitted to visit—briefly. That is the best I can do.”
“Father,” she said, rising, and Jeremy did the same. “You are a duke. You may do precisely as you wish.”
Her father’s smile was thin and wry. “How little you understand the world, my girl.”
“Your Grace,” Jeremy said decisively, “whatever you may think of me, know this: Sarah’s happiness is my sole ambition.”
