The Wife He Always Wanted by Cheryl Ann Smith Page A

would wonder why Gabriel had chosen her, when he could have had his pick among the Ton beauties.
    “You look pretty, Sarah,” he said, breaking through her woolgathering.
    Sarah blinked. “Pardon?”
    “I said, you look pretty. The gown suits you.” He kissed her knuckles again. Her hand tingled where he’d pressed his lips. She had to bite back a ridiculous sigh.
    Proper, drab, and shy Sarah Palmer was taken with a man. Everyone she knew from home would find the notion quite amusing. She’d never had a
real
suitor before. Now she was married to the prince of the castle. No one would believe her good fortune.
    If this was indeed good fortune. She wasn’t convinced. However, it would be nice to stare at his handsome face over the dinner table. She’d grown tired of the beard.
    “Thank you,” she managed. She knew he was being polite but liked the compliment anyway. When he released her hand, it was all she could do not to fan herself with her fingertips.
    Focus, Sarah
, she thought. She’d come to London for one reason and it wasn’t to become taken with her husband.
    Hoping to hide her flush, she turned back to the buffet as Lady Seymour’s mouth quirked. “Now that you two have properly met, let us eat,” the countess said. “I am famished.”
    Sarah made her selection, careful to keep her eyes averted from Gabriel, and spent the meal pushing her food around on her plate. Her fluttering stomach made eating difficult. Thankfully, neither her husband nor Lady Seymour seemed to notice as Gabriel regaled them with stories of his travels.
    “You really rode a camel?” the countess asked.
    “I did,” Gabriel answered. “He was a humorless beast. And he smelled like you’d expect a camel to smell. Unpleasant. I also rode a donkey and was almost eaten by a crocodile, if not for the quick thinking of our guide who snatched me from the beast’s great jaws.”
    “Oh dear,” Lady Seymour said, aghast. “Perhaps you should tell me no more. I do not think I want to hear that story.”
    “Then you will probably not want to hear about the tribe of Amazon natives that wanted to eat Albert and me for dinner?”
    Lady Seymour paled. “Can you not come up with a story that does not involve you almost getting consumed?”
    Gabriel laughed. “Most of my best stories revolve around peril. There are many places in the world where the citizens are less than civilized.” He winked at Sarah. She flushed. “And if I remember correctly, there are society matrons here in London who would certainly fit that description.”
    “That is why I am thankful that you are no longer dressed like a savage,” his mother countered. “I cannot imagine the stir that would cause. We have enough scandal in our history without adding to the whispers.”
    “I thought you spent all your time in America,” Sarah said.
    “There and farther south. The camel belonged to a merchant in San Francisco and the crocodile lived in the Amazon River. You should be happy I did not make a trip to Africa. I hear the crocodiles are much larger there.”
    “Please, no more,” his mother begged with a laugh.
    Lady Seymour spent the next hour telling him all about the family news. Sarah learned the story of their newly discovered cousin Eva, her duke, and their baby; Simon and his Laura; and Brenna and her husband and son. Added to the tale were the adventures of cousin Lady Noelle and her American husband to complete the picture. By the time the storytelling ended, Sarah was exhausted.
    “Your family is very colorful,” she said during a lull.
    “They are,” Gabriel replied. “Though I cannot vouch for the spouses, as I have not yet met any of them, I can assure you that the Harringtons are all a lively bunch. They will keep you endlessly entertained.”
    She imagined being overwhelmed, most likely. Had her family been alive, she could count them on one hand. And since her aunt died, she’d been alone for two years with only a few neighboring