by Merry Farmer
“You would give up the chance to be a countess for me?” Alice asked, weeping again.
Her effusive gratitude brought Maeve to tears as well. “I will be very sorry indeed not to marry Avery,” she confessed. “I love him, and I very much enjoyed the way he bedded me when we were trapped in that cottage by the storm,” she added with a wicked grin.
Alice gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Maeve, you didn’t! You must marry him now. I would hate for you to end up in the same predicament I am in.”
Maeve shook her head. “There is no danger of that. I had my courses a few days ago. There is no baby. We are free to run off and make our own lives.”
“But the dangers we would face, the struggles we would have,” Alice said.
“We will overcome them together,” Maeve insisted. “Friendships like ours are so much more important than silly things like men and marriage. And besides, I would never truly be happy if I knew you were in distress.”
“Oh, Maeve, you are the most darling friend ever,” Alice sobbed. She threw herself at Maeve and the two of them clung together weeping and keeping each other from falling.
That was how Avery found the two of them several minutes later when he knocked on the door, then unlocked it and poked his head around to see what was happening.
“This is delightful,” he said with a wide smile, stepping fully into the room. “I knew this plot would work. I knew that the two of you would be able to work out your differences if you had the opportunity to talk things through.” He paused, his smile faltering as Maeve and Alice let go of each other to face him, hand in hand. “I trust that is what you were able to do?” he asked, his brow lifting. “I trust that everything is resolved and we can all move on happily?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Maeve said slowly, wiping her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. She glanced to Alice, who nodded, then faced Avery. “Alice and I have indeed spoken, and we have decided that I cannot let Alice face the cold, cruel world alone.”
“Of course not,” Avery said, his smile returning in full force. “Because you are a good friend, my darling.”
Maeve’s brave smile wavered, and she thought she might weep again. Avery was such a lovely, strong, handsome man, and she truly did believe that they would have grown to love each other more and more with each passing day. It was a bitter thing that she could not ensure her own happiness and Alice’s too.
“I’m so pleased that you think so, my lord,” she said, addressing him formally on purpose. “Because Alice and I have decided that it is imperative for the two of us to stand together. And because of that, I am so terribly sorry, but I cannot marry you.”
Chapter 9
Avery had assumed everything was proceeding exactly as it should. There had been no screaming and shouting, no sounds of chairs being thrown about the room, and no breaking glass from objects or persons going through the windows. All of those things had come as the very best of signs to him. And when the low murmur of the two ladies’ voices had settled to the soft drone of conversation, he had been certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that his plan to force Maeve and Miss Woodmont to reconcile was a masterful one.
Which was why Maeve’s declaration that she could not marry him struck him as though someone had thrown a brick at his head.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, blinking rapidly. Surely, he’d heard her wrong. After everything the two of them had been through, after the joy they’d experienced in the cottage during the storm, she couldn’t possibly be saying that she would refuse his hand in marriage. It was inconceivable.
Maeve’s countenance changed from stalwart indifference to deep emotion, and she rushed to Avery, grasping his arm. “It’s not that I have no wish to marry you, Avery,” she said, blinking back tears. “I do. Dearly. But I could never be truly happy in a situation where I have chosen my own joy and comfort over that of my dearest friend.” Still clinging to his arm, she twisted to face Miss Woodmont. “Alice is like a sister to me. I could not possibly feel right securing my own position when she is on the verge of being tossed out by her mother and father, as though she were no better than an old shoe.”
“I—” Avery got no further than the single syllable. He rested one hand over Maeve’s as it clasped on his arm and studied Miss Woodmont with a frown.
Miss Woodmont’s eyes were downcast, and she worried her hands together in front of her. It was as if she wouldn’t look either of them in the eye, now that Maeve had announced their decision. Avery narrowed his eyes as he continued to observe the woman. Maeve had repeatedly said that the two of them were like sisters, but it seemed to him as though it was not a sisterhood of equals. What sort of a friend would allow her dearest friend to break off an engagement to an earl? Not to mention an engagement to a man who was swiftly coming to love her with passion and devotion.
He glanced to Maeve once more, his heart swelling. Never mind what sort of a character Miss Woodmont had, the fact that Maeve would go to such extreme measures to show her love and loyalty only endeared her to Avery more. She had a far better heart than he did, that much was certain. She was dazzlingly wonderful, as far as he was concerned.
“My dear, are you absolutely certain this is the decision you wish to make?” he asked, peeking at Miss Woodmont as he did.
Miss Woodmont glanced up at him. Her face went red under his scrutiny, but she kept her mouth shut.
“I—” Maeve began hesitantly. She chewed her lip—which Avery found to be far more arousing than any gesture had a right to be in that moment—and glanced between him and Miss Woodmont. At last, she took in a breath, squared her shoulders, and let go of his arm and stepped over to Miss Woodmont’s side. “Yes,” she said without looking at him. “I cannot abandon Alice when she needs me so.”
While Maeve’s gaze was still firmly focused on the floor, Avery glared at Alice. If the woman had no compunctions at all at ruining her friend’s happiness, then Avery had half a mind to steal Maeve away and force her to the altar—or tell her parents that he’d already had his way with her so they would force her—simply to pry her away from the influence of such a selfish and destructive woman.
But at what Avery considered the last second before his opinion of the woman was set, she burst out with, “You cannot do it, Maeve. You cannot forsake Lord Carnlough and your happiness just for me. You have to marry him.”
Maeve snapped her eyes up, gaping. For a beautiful moment, she seemed happy to be set free from her bonds of friendship.
A moment later, her face crumpled in misery.
“I cannot forsake you,” she told Miss Woodmont. “Not after everything you’ve been through. Not when your parents are so determined to not only ruin you, but to put your life in actual danger.”
That statement shifted Avery’s thinking and had him frowning for an entirely different reason. “What is this about Miss Woodmont’s parents tossing her out?”
Maeve and Miss Woodmont both turned wary glances to him. Miss Woodmont dropped her head slightly and said, “My parents have issued an ultimatum. They want me out of the house one way or another. I failed to catch your interest, my lord,” she added his title as a guilty show of respect, Avery was certain, “and they have made it known that they would give me in marriage to a Mr. Kilpatrick.”
“He’s horrible, Avery.” Maeve surged back to his side. “Not only is he old and grey, he’s a drunkard. And I distrust the stories of what happened to his first wife.”
Avery sucked in a breath, his disapproval and anger switching from Miss Woodmont to her parents.
“I will never go through with a marriage like that,” Alice said. “No matter what the consequences. I would take Ryan and run.”
“And where would you go?” Avery asked, dreading the answer.
Maeve and Miss Woodmont exchanged looks.
“We haven’t decided where yet,” Maeve said. “I am determined to rescue Alice from this horrible fate and to start a new life with her. We can pr
etend we are widows and start a business of some sort, perhaps a boarding house or a wool shop.”
The corner of Avery’s mouth twitched with a combination of amusement and irritation. Maeve certainly did not have the temperament to run a boarding house, or perhaps any other business. She was sweet to attempt a joke about a wool shop at that moment, but it was not the time for jokes. But again, Avery was deeply touched by her devotion to her friend.
“Where will you find the capitol to begin such an endeavor?” he asked, knowing it was unlikely two young women of the middle class had that sort of money to their names.
“I have a bit of pin money saved up,” Maeve said.
“I do as well, although most if it has already gone to pay Mrs. Horner to care for Ryan. That is the other problem,” she said, looking guilty. “Mrs. Horner might not be able to continue to care for Ryan as she has. I will either have to find a new situation for him or come up with a way to care for him myself.”
It was exactly as Avery expected. He stared at Miss Woodmont for a moment, then glanced on to Maeve. It took him only a few, short seconds to decide that it was time he took the situation in hand.
“You will not run away and open a boarding house,” he told the two women. He focused on Miss Woodmont and said, “And you most definitely will not marry this Mr. Kilpatrick.”
“Then I will be out on the streets,” Miss Woodmont said, bristling with frustration. “Is that what you want for me? Are you so jealous of my friendship with Maeve that you would condemn me to homelessness and privation just to have her?”
Avery sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Miss Woodmont,” he said in what he thought was an incredibly patient voice for the situation, “I understand that you have been let down so often that it has turned you into a defensive wildcat protecting her kit, but do take a deep breath and understand that I am proposing to help you in your hour of need, not cast you to the wolves.”
Miss Woodmont looked as though she would fight on, but snapped her mouth shut and crossed her arms instead. “What are you proposing, my lord?”
That was more like it. Avery stood straighter, clasping his hands behind his back. “In a manner of speaking, I am proposing precisely what your parents proposed.”
“I will not marry Mr. Kilpatrick,” Miss Woodmont said, her jaw clenched.
Avery was tempted to sigh all over again, and to throw up his hands and march away. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment to marshal his thoughts, then said, “I do not mean that you should marry Mr. Kilpatrick, but it is fairly obvious that marriage would be the perfect solution for you.”
“You aren’t suggesting that you marry Alice instead of me, are you?” Maeve asked, looking suddenly uncertain of everything.
Avery was sorely tempted to make a joke about bigamy, but instead he said, “Of course not, my love. I am proposing that Miss Woodmont marry someone, though.”
“Who?” Maeve and Miss Woodmont asked simultaneously.
Avery shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest idea,” he said. “Yet. But allow me a few days to speak with my cousins and a few of my acquaintances, and I am certain we will come up with a man worthy of your hand. In fact, I am confident enough in my matchmaking abilities to wager that I’ll be able to have you engaged before Maeve and I are married.”
“Our wedding is in less than a week,” Maeve said doubtfully.
“And so Miss Woodmont will be engaged within a week,” Avery said with a nod.
Again, Maeve and Miss Woodmont exchanged looks. It was a sign of the depth of their friendship that they appeared to be having an entire conversation without saying a word.
Finally, Miss Woodmont turned to him with a slightly baffled look and said, “I accept,” with a shrug of her shoulders. “It is the only course of action for me, and I trust you to find a more agreeable man than my parents have found.”
“I will do precisely that,” Avery said, his smile returning. He stood a little taller and glanced between the women. “In fact, I already have arrangements to have lunch with my cousin, my brother-in-law, and Rory Feeney at the pub in just a few minutes—they are eager to hear how this ploy to reconcile the two of you has gone, you see—and I will consult with them to find you a groom.”
Avery expected the two women to be overjoyed and to shower him with praise. Instead, both of their expressions fell flat, and they stared at him incredulously.
“You plotted this trap with Mr. Feeney, Lord Dervock, and Lord Rothbury?” Maeve asked, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him.
Part of Avery had no idea why Maeve would be upset about that. He often consulted his friends on matters of importance. The rest of him felt it was time to beat a speedy retreat.
“Would you look at the time,” he said without pulling his pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket. “I am late to meet the gentlemen in question. I trust that all is well here and that the two of you have much more you would like to talk about. I will not come between the two of you. Good day, ladies.”
Before either of them could stop him or cause any more of a fuss, Avery turned and fled the room. He didn’t consider his flight to be a defeat of any kind, and there was certainly honor in it. Maeve and her Miss Woodmont were friends again, and as soon as he was able to find Miss Woodmont a husband, everything would be as it should be.
Rory, Caelian, and Rafe were waiting at The Hangman Pub, just as they’d arranged. They’d already commandeered a table near the window and had pints of beer in front of them, including a spare pint for him. After what he’d just been through, Avery needed it.
His kinsmen greeted him with cheerful sounds of welcome as Avery strode over to the table and took a seat.
“How did it all go?” Rory asked, saluting him with his pint, then taking a drink.
“Splendidly,” Avery grinned, glossing over the fact that both women were a little put out with him, now that they were back in each other’s good graces. “Maeve and Miss Woodmont have reconciled, and all is well.”
“Congratulations.” Rafe saluted him with his pint as well.
“Huzzah,” Caelian added. “How did you manage it?”
Avery’s face heated a bit, which he hid with his pint. “It was a bit tricky for a moment, if you must know. Maeve nearly scared the life out of me by suggesting that she would call off our engagement in order to stay true to her friend.”
The three other men gasped, or in Caelian’s case, nearly choked on his beer.
“Why would she do that?” Rory asked, baffled. “No offense to Miss Sperrin, but your offer is far beyond anything a woman of her station could have expected.”
“Never underestimate the power of female loyalty,” Avery said sagely, then took a gulp of beer.
“I should say not,” Rafe said with a smile. “Angeline is devoted to her friends from Twittingham Academy. Even more so after the house party they attended, where we met.”
“Female friendships are sacrosanct,” Caelian agreed.
“Which is why Maeve’s continued willingness to marry me depends on Miss Woodmont marrying,” Avery went on, setting down his pint and facing the others as though they were at an important parliamentary meeting. “I have promised Miss Woodmont that I will find a man to marry her within the week, and that she will be engaged before my and Maeve’s wedding.”
The other three gaped at him.
“And how do you propose to do that?” Rafe asked.
Avery smile. “By enlisting the help of my friends.” He slapped a hand on the table. “So who do we know who is ready to be engaged to a lovely woman by the end of the week?”
The other three simply stared at him as though he’d grown another head.
“Come on, men,” Avery attempted to rally them. “Surely we all must know someone who is in need of a wife.”
“I heard that Mr. Kilpatrick, the mill owner, was looking to remarry,” Caelian said with a shrug.
“Most definitely not him,” Avery said, his eyes growing round. “
Mr. and Mrs. Woodmont have already suggested the man, and doing so has caused Miss Woodmont to threaten to run away. And take my bride with her, I might add.” He needed another gulp of beer to deal with that.
At least his kinsmen were sympathetic. They hummed and nursed their beers and sat back in their seats, mulling over the problem as though it were a riddle.
“I am certain I have plenty of employees who would be willing to marry a woman of my suggestion,” Rory said, though he didn’t look convinced by the idea.
Caelian shook his head. “Miss Woodmont would never be happy marrying a working-class man,” he said. “No offense to your employees.”
“I agree,” Avery said. “Despite my upcoming marriage to Maeve, I believe it’s best not to cross class lines.” Particularly since Miss Woodmont had a vital secret that would make it that much more difficult to find a man willing to marry her. He had no intention of informing either his kinsmen or whatever prospective groom they came up with about that, though. That was for Miss Woodmont to divulge and her only.
“You know who might be a likely candidate?” Rory said, arms crossed, tapping his lips. The rest of them lifted their brows or looked at him, eager for the answer. “Mr. O’Donnell, the apothecary.” Pure inspiration lit his eyes.
“That strange little man who lives on your street?” Avery asked, wary of the plan.
“He might be a bit odd,” Rory said, “but he owns a prosperous business, he lives in a good neighborhood in Ballymena—Miss Woodmont would be welcome to call on Siobhan and to become a part of her circle, I’m sure—and even though he isn’t any sort of romantic ideal, he is roughly our age, and I am confident he would be kind to Miss Woodmont.”
Avery smiled. Perhaps his plan would be easier to carry out than he’d thought. “It sounds as though this Mr. O’Donnell is ideal for our purposes.” And with any luck, he wouldn’t mind his bride’s bastard child living with them.
