Page 51 of An Execution, an Earl, and Miss Hughes
“I’m taking you home,” he said, his voice full of purpose as he gathered the reins. “And tomorrow, I’m riding to town for a special license.”
“There’s no rush,” Sarah laughed as she leaned back against him. “And there’s someone we need to ask permission of first.”
“Ah, yes, your father,” Lucian groaned a little. “He of the bone-crushing handshakes and suspicious glares.”
“He was only suspicious your motives weren’t honourable,” she thwacked him gently on the arm. “I doubt he’ll argue much against an earl wanting to marry his daughter.”
“My title brings little respect in Plumpton, I’m afraid,” Lucian’s voice was rueful from experience.
“And it’s not his permission we need to ask,” Sarah continued, turning to look him nervously in the eye.
“Rowan,” Lucian guessed, to which she nodded somberly.
She looked so nervous, that Lucian’s heart ached for her.
“If he’s anything like his father, he’ll love you at first sight,” he assured her.
Then he pulled her close against him and they rode contentedly into the afternoon sun.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE NEWS OFMrs Vickery’s having committed a double murder caused such a scandal that Sarah and Lucian’s engagement announcement passed with scarcely a ripple.
Sarah was both gladdened by this and slightly put out—it was not every day the village spinster became betrothed to an earl. Surely she deserved at least a murmur of admiration? A raised eyebrow or two? It was only when Mary reported overhearing Mrs Canards declare that Lord Deverell’s hand had been forced by the scandal of playing quoits with her, without a chaperone no less, that Sarah felt even slightly mollified.
It was a silly test of one’s importance, but if even Mrs Canards wasn’t gossiping about you, you were truly unremarkable.
And Sarah now felt remarkable, in Lucian’s eyes at least.
She hadn’t expected that his admiration and love might change her but, even in the few days since their engagement, she felt she had grown taller with confidence.
Well, mostly, for on that morning her confidence had fled, as she faced down her nerves at meeting Rowan for the first time. She had set off for Northcott Manor on foot, forgoing the gig for a reviving walk instead. She had even decided to take the path by the river rather than the main road, ostensibly for the exercise, but in reality so she could stew on her nerves a bit longer.
What if he didn’t like her? Lucian had assured her that this was an impossible scenario but then Lucian did go a bit gooey, like a three-minute egg, around her.
Little boys were made of sterner stuff, as Sarah knew from her brothers. They were also territorial, loathe to change, and liable to aim a kick toward the shins if overly displeased. Sarah quite liked her shins as they were; unbruised.
She rounded the bend in the river, her mind filled with the terrible reaction she might face from young Rowan when they were introduced. The sky above was clear and a gentle breeze stirred the reeds on the riverbank. It was heaven, Sarah decided, such a pity she could not dally…
A large splash sounded out pulling Sarah from her reverie. She glanced up and spotted a young boy of about seven, standing at the river’s edge, his face a picture of displeasure. She watched as he lifted his arm and threw another stone onto the water. It landed with a mournful plop and disappeared beneath the surface.
“Lud,” the boy gave a howl of disquiet.
Sarah moved forward and he must have spotted her from the corner of his eye, for he turned and offered a hasty apology.
“I would not have sworn so loudly if I’d known someone was nearby,” he said, his grey eyes solemn. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat; it was liking looking into Lucian’s eyes.
“I believe one is supposed to aim to not swear at all, audience or no,” Sarah answered with amusement, as she recovered from the shock of stumbling across her biggest fear. “Though the pursuit of perfection is a lifetime ambition few realise. What was it that annoyed you so?”
“I wanted it to skim,” the boy answered, scrunching his face with frustration, “My cousin Archie can make them skip across the water but he wouldn’t show me how to do it.”
“Well that’s wasn’t nice of Archie,” Sarah declared, setting down her basket to come stand beside him. “Here, let me show you.”
She crouched at the edge of the water and scanned the ground until she found a flattish, oval stone that felt right in her hand.
“The trick is in the wrist,” she said, straightening and giving it an experimental toss. It sailed a few feet and sank without ceremony. “Hmm. Perhaps not that one.”
Rowan gave a snort of laughter at her failure.
