The Taste of Innocence by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online

discussing the qualities of macadam, he was acutely conscious that Sarah was close. She stood a yard behind him; straining his ears, he caught snippets of her conversation with Mrs. Duncliffe, the vicar’s wife.
    The tenor of that conversation—about the orphanage at Crowcombe—recalled the impression he’d received at the Finsburys’; while watching Sarah dance, then standing by her side chatting to others, he’d noticed that she was respected, and often deferred to, by their peers, by the unmarried gentlemen and young ladies of their wider social circle, that her quiet assurance was admired by many.
    From Mrs. Duncliffe’s tone, it seemed that the older generation, too, accorded Sarah a status beyond her years. She was twenty-three, yet it seemed she’d carved a place for herself in the local community somewhat at odds with those tender years and her as-yet-unmarried state.
    Precisely the right sort of status on which, as his countess, she could build. He hadn’t given a thought to such aspects when fixing on her as his wife, but he knew such nebulous qualities mattered.
    Finally, Henry Wallace was satisfied. They parted. Expectation surging, Charlie turned to Sarah—only to discover her father gathering his family preparatory to herding them to their waiting carriage.
    Smiling, Lord Conningham nodded his way. “We’ll see you shortly, Charlie.”
    His jaw set, but he forced a smile in reply. He caught Sarah’s eye, caught the understanding quirk of her lips; he half bowed, then, his expression impassive, turned to gather his own family and head for Morwellan Park.
     
    Sarah relaxed into a comfortable armchair in the drawing room at the Park, and rendered mute thanks that neither Clary nor Gloria, nor Augusta nor Jeremy, had yet tumbled to Charlie’s intention. She’d wondered if this luncheon would prove hideously awkward, but the meal had passed as over the years so many similar Sunday luncheons had, in pleasant and easy comfort.
    The invitation had arrived yesterday while she’d been in Watchet with Charlie, but such short notice wasn’t unusual; the Morwellans and the Conninghams had been sharing Sunday luncheons every few months for as long as she could recall. Her mother and Charlie’s were contemporaries, and their childrens’ ages overlapped; naturally the families, both long-standing in the area and with estates abutting, had drawn close.
    Observing her parents and Charlie’s mother, Serena, grouped about the fireplace and discussing some tonnish scandal, Sarah felt sure Serena, at least, knew. Or had guessed. There’d been a hint of encouragement, of a certain unvoiced hope in the way Serena had squeezed her hand when she’d arrived, in the warmth of the older woman’s smile. Serena approved of Charlie’s choice and would welcome Sarah as her daughter-in-law; all that had been conveyed without words. However, although comforting, the point was still moot. She had yet to learn what she needed to know.
    She’d learned more about Charlie, but not the vital point. On that, she’d made very little headway.
    “Sarah!” From the French door, Clary called, “We’re going to walk around the lake. Do you want to come?”
    She smiled, shook her head, and waved off her sisters and Augusta, one year older than Clary and shortly to embark on her first season. Jeremy had buttonholed Charlie at the other end of the room; the instant he saw the three girls step outside, Jeremy grinned, said something to Charlie, then turned and slipped out of another door, escaping while he could.
    The door closed silently; Sarah’s gaze had already shifted to Charlie. He glanced at their parents, engrossed in their discussion, then came down the long room to her side.
    Halting, he held out a hand. His blue-gray eyes trapped hers. “Come. Let’s go for a walk, too.”
    Sarah considered his face, his eyes; she was perfectly certain he didn’t intend to join their sisters. Anticipation leaping, she put her hand in