“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.”

“I don’t judge you,” Iris said, although she had a feeling she did, maybe a little bit.

Sarah regarded her with a frank expression. “Has Sir Richard kissed you?”

Iris nodded.

“Did you like it? No, don’t answer, I can tell from your face that you did.”

Not for the first time Iris cursed her fair skin. There wasn’t a person in England who blushed with as much vigor and depth as she did.