Hardly a Husband (Free Fellows League 3)

Blushing furiously, Sarah buried her face against Jarrod's shirtfront as the driver jumped down from his perch and opened the vehicle door. Jarrod handed her up into the coach. Sarah settled onto the forward-facing seat and waited as Jarrod climbed in and sat beside her.

"Where to, sir?" the driver called down.

"Ibbetson's," Jarrod answered. "Around the park." The shortest way to the hotel was through the park, but at this time of morning, it was also the most congested. The members of the ton who hadn't yet made it home to bed would be taking the shorter route through the park, and the early risers, like he and Lord Mayhew and his Free Fellow colleagues, who would normally be saddling up for their morning horseback rides along Rotten Row, would be making their way to their clubs for coffee and breakfast.

"Do you think he saw me?" she asked as the coach pulled away from Jarrod's front gate, merging with the early morning traffic.

Jarrod knew his godfather had seen quite a bit, but he didn't have the heart to tell her the extent of the damage. "Only your leg," Jarrod replied. "Not your face or your…" He stopped.

"Just my leg? Nothing else?"

"A bit of leg. That's all."

"Are you certain?"

"Fairly certain," Jarrod answered. "And there's no need to worry. Lord Rob is the soul of discretion."

"Lord Rob?" Sarah felt slightly ill.

"Yes." Jarrod nodded. "Lord Robert Mayhew. My uncle and my godfather."

Sarah covered her face with her hands. She had never met Lord Mayhew, but she had heard Jarrod speak of him for as long as she could remember. "Oh, dear lord…"

"It's all right," Jarrod consoled. "He doesn't know you."

"He knew my father," Sarah reminded him. "If not personally, then as the rector of Helford Green. Papa christened you. And your godfather was there, wasn't he?"

"I suppose he was." Jarrod traced the frown lines on Sarah's forehead with the tip of his finger. "I really don't recall the details."

Jarrod's attempt at levity was lost on her.

"Then he might remember Aunt Etta."

"It's possible," Jarrod told her. "Lord Rob knows a great many people. But I doubt he'd remember your aunt from seeing her once at my christening. It's been thirty years. If he's acquainted with your aunt, it's far more likely that he remembers her as Viscountess Dunbridge."

"What if he sees me with Aunt Etta? What if he realizes who I am?" If he learned her identity, Jarrod's godfather could pressure his godson to do the right thing. Lord Mayhew could pressure Jarrod into finding her a protector, a guardian, or a husband. Sarah shivered involuntarily at the thought. Or worse. Because his opinion mattered to Jarrod, Lord Mayhew might be the only man alive who could coerce Jarrod into marrying her. And marrying her against his will was the last thing Sarah wanted from Jarrod Shepherdston.

"Sarah, sweet." Jarrod took her face in his hands and looked her in the eyes. "I honestly don't think Lord Rob recognized you from the shape of your leg or your lovely derriere."

"My derriere?" she squeaked. "I thought you said he only saw a bit of my leg."

"I said I was fairly certain he only saw a bit of your leg," Jarrod corrected. "But he might have seen more."

Sarah's blush came close to matching the vibrant, shiny copper color of her hair and the freckles scattered across her nose. Knowing that Jarrod's godfather had seen her bare leg was enough to make her blush; knowing he might have seen her bare bottom was enough to give her hives.

"That will never do, you know?" Jarrod stared down at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"What?"

"Blushing at the mere suggestion of a gentleman seeing previously unexposed parts of your anatomy. N

ot in the profession you intend to pursue."

"I'm not blushing at the mere suggestion of a gentleman seeing previously unexposed parts of my anatomy," Sarah informed him. "I'm blushing at the idea of your godfather seeing them. It's almost as bad as having my father walk in during my kitchen bath."

"Kitchen bath?" Jarrod raised his eyebrow in query. "What is that?"

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and smiled. She had known Jarrod for so long she often forgot how very wealthy he was and how different their lives had been. "The stairs in the rectory are too narrow for anyone to carry a full-sized bathing tub into the bedchambers. Whenever I wanted to soak in a full-sized bath, I had to do so in front of the fire in the kitchen. And once, when I was three and ten, my father entered the kitchen while I was bathing. I don't know who was more surprised or who was more embarrassed." She made a face at the memory. "I thought I would die of mortification. And Papa wouldn't look me in the face for over a week."