He frowned. Did she truly care or was this inane small talk? “Well enough.” That wasn’t fully the truth. He’d slept for six hours straight without waking with an attack. For the first time in years.
Because of her. Could she guess how frantic he was to discern if she were truly the answer he sought?
“Good.” She squeezed her fingers on his arm. “Relax, Andrew. I won’t hurt you, and in the event you wondered, I promised to marry you. I won’t back out now.”
How the devil could she have known that was uppermost in his mind? “Thank you.” He managed to choke out the words despite his tight throat and the emotions that threatened to embarrass him, but damn if he didn’t appreciate the slight touch of her hand on his arm.
For long moments, they walked in silence while he led Ares by the reins.
Sarah broke the quiet, and he almost regretted that. “I told my great uncle of our impending nuptials this morning.”
“Ah, good. Was he pleased with how well you’ve done for yourself and the position you’ll soon find yourself in?”
“Not exactly.” She sighed. “He was more concerned with who would teach his children, and how soon he could meet you to give you his congratulations in person.” A trace of annoyance threaded through her voice.
The gall of the man to belittle her! Anger flooded him in a hot surge. “I’ll call on him and dress him down. He shouldn’t treat a future countess with such disrespect.”
“Yet it’s perfectly acceptable for him—and you—to treat me that way because I don’t command a title at the moment?”
Regret froze the anger in its tracks, for he’d done exactly the same thing as her relative. “I apologized for that incident.”
“I know.” Sarah bit her lush bottom lip, and he had the distinct urge to kiss her. She strengthened her hold on his arm when his muscles went taut. “Please don’t confront him. What my great uncle thinks doesn’t matter anymore. My future is with you, not him and his family.”
That mollified him slightly. She would do well as a countess, for already she knew how to deflect a potentially disastrous situation. “Very well, but only because you asked me not to.” He glanced at her and found her gaze. “He won’t be given another chance to treat you as he’s done. I can promise you that.”
Once they arrived at the designated spot, Drew turned Ares loose to graze on the long meadow grass. Then he took a quilt from his basket and spread it on the ground.
“This is a lovely idea. Thank you,” she murmured with a smile.
“You’re welcome.” He removed a few parcels of food and a bottle of lemonade and set them on the blanket. “Cook told me she packed several of my favorite foods as well as goodies ladies usually enjoy. You’ll need to inform her of your tastes.”
“I will.” She nodded as she sat upon the quilt and arranged her skirts about her folded legs. “Have you, ah, informed your staff that you plan to marry?”
“I did.”
“How did they react?”
“Does it matter? They work for me.”
She huffed. “Of course it does. Are they happy for you? Excited to have a countess in residence again?” A hint of unease clouded her eyes. “I’d rather not come into an existing household where animosity brews belowstairs.”
“I suppose that would make things more difficult.” Drew poured her a glass of lemonade and handed it off. “Truth be told, my staff is thrilled. They’ve long wished to feel useful. It’s been years since Hadleigh Hall had life under its roof, and now they’ll have a new mistress to attend to.”
“It’s all so… overwhelming. It will be a huge change from what I’m used to.” Her hand holding the glass trembled. “What if I fail in my position? Or fail you?” The tiny catch in her voice tugged at his compassion and brought down a few bricks from around the wall of his heart.
Was it possible she struggled with some of the same feelings, the same fear of inadequacy, that he did? “If you do, then I have failed you first.” Wanting to reassure her, he gently eased the glass from her fingers, set it aside and then took her hand in his. “Sarah, you will make a fine countess. Of that I have no doubts.” He might live most of his existence lost in a quagmire of horrid emotions, but in this he was adamant.
“I hope you’re right.” She nodded. “You are certain you wish to go through with all this?”
“When I make a promise, I keep it. And my duty to the title demands that I wed.” Dash it all, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say!
“Ah.” She huffed and yanked her hand away. “A business arrangement. Thank you for recalling me to what this truly is so my head won’t be turned by surface niceties such as picnics.”
Anger flared, and this time he didn’t try to beat it back. “That’s what we agreed upon, yes?” In fact, it was she who’d first offered that terminology when he’d asked her to marry him.
“Yes.” Though she agreed, she dropped her gaze to her lap where her fingers were tightly clasped. “But I’d hoped you and I could find friendship along the way, for the other… tasks ahead in fulfilling your duty require a fair amount of intimacy.”
“And trust,” he added in a small voice as her words from yesterday came back to him. How long had it been since he’d had complete trust in another person? Not even Barton knew all his secrets… or fears. Would she be the one to take all the battered, blackened parts of him and polish them up so the light could shine in?