The Wife He Always Wanted by Cheryl Ann Smith

not doubt yourself, Mrs. Harrington,” the maid replied. “You just needed a bit of help.”
    Sarah laughed and Flora flushed, as if suddenly realizing she’d both insulted and complimented Sarah in the same breath.
    “Oh, Mrs. Harrington. I did not mean—”
    Sarah cut her off with a wave of her hand. “No insult was taken. I did look a bit of a fright. I am unused to dressing for anything. My appearance was dull indeed.”
    The maids smoothed the dress and declared her fit for a late lunch with the family. Sarah pulled in a deep breath for courage as Flora led her to the staircase where Lady Seymour was waiting below. Sarah joined her on the landing. The countess smiled.
    “My, don’t you look lovely,” the Lady said and took her arm. “Gabriel will be pleased.”
    Sarah put her free hand over her fluttering stomach. This was the first challenge to her mettle.
    “You need not worry about being overwhelmed by family,” Lady Seymour said. “Simon and Brenna are married and gone, and Lord Seymour is out of town until tomorrow. It is just us three for lunch.”
    The words gave her some comfort. They entered the dining room and the maid brought tea. Unable to think of a single topic on which to converse with the countess, Sarah walked to the buffet and examined the food. There was enough to feed a family for a full week.
    Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until this moment.
    “There you are, darling,” Lady Seymour said from behind her.
    Turning, Sarah expected to see her burly husband in animal hide. Instead, a man, a very, very, handsome man, stood in the open doorway, bedecked in black but for a crisp white shirt and cravat. Her breath caught.
    Dumbstruck by his male beauty, Sarah scanned her eyes down his tailored clothing to his polished boots, and back up again. His face was clean-shaven and his hair trimmed neatly, if not a bit long at the collar. Whoever he was, Sarah was certain that he could give her husband tips on proper grooming.
    She did not realize she’d been staring like a ninny until she heard Lady Seymour laugh. The man smiled at Sarah’s discomfiture, showing a set of very nice teeth. Her heart fluttered and her face warmed.
    The countess cleared her throat and stepped toward the man to take him by the hand. She led him to where Sarah stood. The scent of sandalwood and spice teased her senses.
    “Sarah, I’d like to introduce you to my son, Gabriel Alexander Harrington.”

Chapter Four

    A t first, Sarah thought Lady Seymour was playing a prank at her expense. However, when he reached out and took her hand, and she looked into his familiar green eyes, she knew this perfect male specimen was indeed her husband.
    Her knees knocked and her mind went blank. He kissed her hand and the crinkles around his eyes deepened with his smile.
    “The shock of seeing me thus has overwhelmed my wife,” he teased. “I fear she might swoon.”
    Sarah’s spine stiffened. “I do not swoon,” she said quite breathlessly, and not entirely certain that swooning
was not
in her future. Who would not swoon under his attention?
    If she’d thought herself married well above her station before, when he was a scruffy barbarian, his perfect manly perfection served to confirm the notion. Not only was he wealthy and noble, but he was so handsome that beside him, she faded into the background like ancient sun-damaged wallpaper.
    Composure
, Sarah,
composure
, she silently scolded. It would not do to present herself as a silly and besotted girl in front of Gabriel. A handsome face did not a man of sterling character make. He could be a gambler, a drunkard, a libertine.
    “I am surprised to see you do possess cheeks,” she said, fighting to untangle her tongue.
    His chuckle was rich and deep. “Mother found me a razor.”
    “I see.” Lud. Why couldn’t he be average? He was much easier to accept as the bear-man. Now she suspected were she to be introduced to society on his arm, everyone