“Enter,” Iris called out wearily.
It was Sarah, wearing a furtive expression and her best morning frock. “Oh, thank goodness, you’re alone.”
Iris immediately perked up. “What is it?”
Sarah glanced back into the hall and then shut the door behind her. “Has your mother been in to see you?”
Iris groaned.
“So she has.”
“I would rather not talk about it.”
“No, that’s why I’m here. Well, not to talk about your mother’s advice. I’m sure I don’t want to know what she said. If it was anything like my mother . . .” Sarah shuddered, then got hold of herself. “Listen to me. Whatever your mother told you about your relations with your husband, ignore it.”
“Everything?” Iris asked doubtfully. “She can’t have been completely wrong.”
Sarah let out a little laugh and came to sit by her on the bed. “No, of course not. She does have six children. What I mean is . . . well, did she tell you it was dreadful?”
“Not in so many words, but it did sound rather awkward.”
“I’m sure it can be, if you don’t love your husband.”
“I don’t love my husband,” Iris said plainly.
Sarah sighed, and her voice lost some of its authority. “Do you at least like him?”
“Yes, of course.” Iris thought about the man who would, in just a few short hours, be her husband. She might not be able to say that she loved him, but to be fair, there was nothing really wrong with him. He had a lovely smile, and thus far, he had treated her with the utmost respect. But she hardly knew him. “I might grow to love him,” she said, wishing she spoke with more authority. “I hope I do.”
“Well, that’s a start.” Sarah pressed her lips together in thought. “He seems to like you, too.”
“I’m fairly certain he does,” Iris replied. Then, in quite a different tone, she added, “Unless he is a spectacular liar.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Iris said quickly. She wished she hadn’t spoken. Her cousin knew why the marriage was taking place in such a hurry—the whole family did—but no one knew the truth behind Sir Richard’s proposal.
Even Iris.
She sighed. It was better if everyone thought it had been a romantic declaration of love. Or at least that he’d thought the whole thing through and decided they were well matched. But not this . . . this . . .
Iris didn’t know how to explain it, even to herself. She just wished she could shake this nagging suspicion that something was not quite right.
“Iris?”
“Sorry.” Iris gave her head a little shake. “I’ve been somewhat distracted lately.”
“I should think so,” Sarah replied, seemingly accepting that explanation. “Still, I have spoken to Sir Richard only a few times, but he seems to be a kind man, and I think he will treat you well.”
“Sarah,” Iris began, “if your intent was to ease my apprehension, I must tell you that you are failing miserably.”
Sarah made a rather amusingly frustrated sound and clasped her head in her hands. “Just listen to me,” she said. “And trust me. Do you trust me?”
“Not really.”
Sarah’s expression was beyond comical.
“I’m joking,” Iris said with a smile. “Please, I must be allowed my share of humor on my wedding day. Especially after that conversation with my mother.”
“Just remember,” Sarah said, reaching forward to take Iris’s hand. “It can be lovely, what happens between a husband and wife.”
Iris’s expression must have been dubious, because Sarah added, “It’s very special. Truly, it is.”
“Did someone tell you of this before your wedding?” Iris asked. “After your mother spoke to you? Is that why you thought to come and tell me this?”
To Iris’s great surprise, Sarah flushed a deep pink. “Hugh and I . . . ah . . . we might have . . .”
“Sarah!”
“Shocking, I know. But it was wonderful, truly, and I could not help myself.”
Iris was stunned. She knew that Sarah had always been a freer spirit than she was, but she never would have dreamed that she would have given herself to Hugh before marriage.
“Listen,” Sarah said, squeezing Iris’s hand. “It does not matter if Hugh and I anticipated our vows. We are married now, and I love my husband, and he loves me.”