Hardly a Husband by Rebecca Hagan Lee

Author:Rebecca Hagan Lee [Lee, Rebecca Hagan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2004-10-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

His conduct still right, with his argument wrong.

— Oliver Goldsmith, 1728-1774

"He's here." Sarah stepped back from the window overlooking the front door entrance and breathed a prayer of thanks that their bedchamber faced the street. She bent to gather her tiny reticule, fan, invitation, and dance card from where she'd left them on the bed. The engraved invitations and the dance card had been delivered to their room shortly after lunch. Sarah and Lady Dunbridge had been thrilled to receive them and the personal note from their hostess commending them for their courage and determination to fulfill Reverend Eckersley's dying request.

Sarah hadn't understood the significance of the note until Aunt Etta had calmly explained that by informing Lady Garrison that Sarah's participation in the season was at the behest of her dying father, Lord Shepherdston had opened the doors of the ton that had been previously closed to them because they were in mourning. They had only had a few hours in which to prepare for the ball, but that had been proven to be a mixed blessing because there had been no time to worry about what to wear or how they would be received.

"Hurry, Aunt Etta," Sarah urged. "Jays is a great believer in punctuality."

"Is that so?" Lady Dunbridge arched an eyebrow.

Sarah thrust her aunt's fan and invitation into Lady Dunbridge's hands and nodded.

"Couldn't prove it by me," Lady Dunbridge declared. "He kept me waiting ten minutes at breakfast and I believe it's only fair that I return the favor."

"Aunt Etta…"

"Let him wait, Sarah," Lady Dunbridge said. "It does a man good. They're always rushing about. Hurrying here and there. Chomping at the bit." She waved her arms. "I've never known a man who knew how and when to take his time."

"But —"

"Let him wait. It will remind him that he isn't quite the master of all he surveys and it will give him something to which to look forward." Lady Dunbridge reached out and smoothed a stray lock of Sarah's hair into place. "And it will keep you from seeming overly eager for his company."

Sarah frowned. "We'll be late to Lady Garrison's."

Lady Dunbridge shook her head. "We aren't going to be late. But it wouldn't matter if we were, as long as you are worth waiting for." She smiled at her niece, then turned Sarah around so that she could see her reflection in the mirror. "And we've made certain that you are worth waiting for."

Jarrod arrived at Ibbetson's Hotel at half past seven o'clock of the evening. When they appeared in the hotel lobby, the ladies from Helford Green had kept him waiting a full ten minutes.

"Good evening, Lord Shepherdston."

Jarrod halted his impatient pacing and turned to greet them. "Good evening, Miss Eckersley, Lady Dunbridge."

He noticed Sarah's hair first. Her thick, curly red hair was piled into a loose bun on the top of her head and held into place by a black velvet-covered clasp. A dozen or so long tendrils had been allowed to escape the bun and curled artfully around her face and neck.

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