Hardly a Husband (Free Fellows League 3)

"Bishop Fulton desperately desires a new addition to the cathedral in Bath. I was delighted to be able to fund it in exchange for his recommendation that the Church sell the Helford Green benefice and glebe to me." Jarrod was bluffing, but Lord Dunbridge didn't know that.

"He wouldn't…"

"He is," Jarrod countered.

"I'll lodge a protest with the ecclesiastical courts," Dunbridge promised.

"Be my guest." Jarrod smiled.

"And I'll hold you to our wager. It will be duly recorded in the betting books at White's for everyone to see. And when Miss Eckersley and I are wed, I'll expect to collect my thousand pounds."

"You are welcome to expect whatever you like," Jarrod said. "So write legibly and spell my name correctly. Shepherdston. No a. Two e's. You may have been ordained, but according to my sources, you failed to take a first at Trinity College because you couldn't spell 'cat' without assistance."

"You can have the Helford Green living and the glebe." Dunbridge rose from his chair. "And be damned. It served its purpose. I've got what I wanted. I've got Miss Eckersley."

Jarrod narrowed his gaze at the viscount. "You've got a vivid imagination, a packet of lies, and a vulgar waistcoat," he said. "Nothing more."

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

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I'll be with you in the squeezing of a lemon.

— Oliver Goldsmith, 1728-1744

"That's the fourth dress you've discarded," Lady Dunbridge commented dryly. "It's not like you to be so indecisive, Sarah."

"Then you decide." Standing arms akimbo in a long chemise, black short corset, and black stockings, Sarah replied, "Which one should I wear?"

Lady Dunbridge stared at the discarded dresses. All four were black. Two were black muslin. One was black silk and the other a lightweight black merino.

Dear Simon had only been dead two months and it wasn't at all proper for them to be in London for the season at all. But then, they had had little choice in the matter. It was London or Helford Green and they couldn't remain in Helford Green after the scene at the rectory. So, London it was. It should have been the ideal place for Sarah to find a husband other than horrid Reggie Blanchard, who had his mind set on having her for a wife. And someone other than Jarrod Shepherdston, the perennial bachelor, on whom Sarah had long ago set her heart. But they were in deep mourning and none of their friends or acquaintances were likely to invite them to take part in the "at homes," teas, soirees, musicales, or balls to which they would normally have been invited. Nor would they receive vouchers to Almack's.

Lady Dunbridge sighed. Simon Eckersley had been one of the most accommodating men ever born. It was most unfortunate that a man so accommodating in life had taken ill and died just before the early season commenced. His death and their state of mourning made their present predicament so much more difficult.

"There was nothing wrong with the one you had on before, my dear," Lady Dunbridge said at last.

"I couldn't wear that one to breakfast," Sarah told her. "It's so… so… plain. And black."

"All your day dresses and all your afternoon dresses are black." Lady Dunbridge looked down at her own black dress.

They'd dyed everything black upon Simon's passing, except one day dress and one afternoon dress apiece, two nightgowns, two sets of underthings, and their ball gowns. And the only reason those garments had escaped the dye vat was because Henrietta couldn't bear the thought of ruining Sarah's entire wardrobe. She wouldn't stay in mourning forever and she'd need something to look forward to when she despaired of ever wearing color again.

Sarah glanced at the clock, then pulled another black dress out of the wardrobe and looked over at her aunt. "I know they're all black, but they are all cut differently and made up in different fabrics. I want to look my best when we go downstairs to meet Jays."

Lady Dunbridge took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. "We aren't meeting Jays downstairs."

"Why not?" Sarah dropped the dress on the bed as she whirled around to face her aunt.

"I'm meeting him," Lady Dunbridge clarified. "Alone."

"Oh, but Aunt Etta… " Sarah began. She had dreamed of Jarrod's kisses, dreamed of seeing him again and receiving another of his kissing lessons. She hadn't expected him to give her another kissing lesson at breakfast, but she had expected to be able to see him.

"I've already acknowledged his invitation and sent word of my acceptance." She took pity on her niece. "Sarah, my dear, I know you want to see your young man. I know you're disappointed that you won't be able to share a table with him and bask in his company, but I've given this matter a great deal of thought since we received young Shepherdston's note and I think it's time for a change in strategy. And it's best that I initiate the change."

Sara frowned. "I don't understand."