Page 70 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

His father took Sabrina’s hand. “I understand.” Well, Riordan didn’t. “You have a lot to process. I believe our neighbor, Mrs. Alberta Eaton, would gladly offer rooms for you and your companion until you are ready to make a decision. Allow me to make the arrangements.” He turned and said to Riordan in a low voice, “I believe you should leave.”

He was not a petulant child; he would not rant. He was raised as a gentleman. Sabrina was distraught, and that concerned him, but after what she’d endured yesterday, on top of his revelations, he could not blame her at all.

“Of course.” He withdrew. Should he take comfort in the fact that she hadn’t dismissed him outright? All he knew was he loved her more than his life, but he would give her the time and space she asked for.

* * * *

Julian strode toward the Eaton residence. He had not returned since the hedgehog incident. He’d considered Alberta’s place instead of taking Lady Pepperdon further afield, like the inn at Sevenoaks, because it was close enough to Wollstonecraft Hall and private enough for quiet contemplation.

He knocked on the door. As it swung open, the breath caught in his throat. Alberta Eaton wore a dark green day dress, hugging curves he’d no idea she possessed. Hell, she must have bound her bosom when working in the garden, because he’d seen no evidence of such lushness. Her hair was the color of a field of wheat and styled fashionably. Since it had been hidden under her large hat, he’d no idea of the shade.

The smile she gave him made him weak in the knees. “How wonderful to see you, Tensbridge. We’re about to have tea. Do come in. Jonas will be thrilled.”

He stepped across the threshold and followed her into the parlor.

Jonas stood. The young man wore a brown suit, and was certainly in a neater condition than when they’d last met. He smiled, and the lad’s perfect features stunned him afresh.

“Jonas, my dear. Remember what you do when a guest arrives?” Alberta gently urged.

“Right.” Jonas stepped forward and held out his hand. “A pleasure to receive you, my lord.” Julian took his hand. A firm shake. Blasted pity the lad was mentally deficient; with his looks, he could have made a fine alliance with a young lady of property and prestige.

After she took his greatcoat, they took their seats, and Alberta poured and passed him a cup of tea. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Gathering his thoughts, he told a condensed version of the events of the past thirty-six hours.

“Oh, my. Of course Lady Pepperdon and Miss Tuttle may stay here. And her kitten. What is another animal about the place, right, Jonas?”

“I like kittens,” he replied as he slurped his tea.

“Thank you,” Julian said. “I do not expect it to be more than a couple of days. I believe my son and Lady Pepperdon will come through this.”

“I cannot imagine a father selling his daughter. Isn’t it against the law? The man is a monster. He deserves debtor’s prison, or worse,” Alberta remarked.

“Is it where men go when they can’t pay their butcher’s bill?” Jonas asked.

It occurred to Julian that Jonas was not as simpleminded as he’d first surmised. It was as if he stood between childhood and manhood, a foot planted firmly in each aspect, stuck there for the rest of his days. It was clear the young man followed their conversation and was able to understand it.

“You’re correct, Jonas. But he would have to owe many people, with no way of paying them all. The court will make a ruling, and the baron will be sent there to either work off his debt or stay until he is able to pay it.”

“The baron should go to a prison. He’s a bad man,” Jonas stated.

“Just so. I completely agree,” Julian replied.

“My dear,” Alberta said to Jonas, “why not take some fruit out to your hedgehogs?”

“Wearing my suit?”

“Yes. Be careful not to get it dirty.”

Jonas smiled, grabbed a napkin, and placed pieces of apple in it. He scurried from the room.

“I admit, in our first encounter, I believed Jonas more…psychologically impaired, intellectually speaking,” Julian said.

Alberta laughed. It was as husky and sensual as her voice, and it caused a blast of heat to tear through him. “How diplomatically put.” She sobered. “My husband said Jonas was slow developing, didn’t speak his first word until nearly four years of age. When Reese passed, Jonas was nineteen, and is as you see him now.”

“A man-child?” Julian asked gently.

“Yes, I suppose he is. I fear he will never marry, which is a tragedy, as Jonas has a great capacity to love. It would take a woman of immense compassion and understanding to take him on.”