by Cheryl Holt
“You weren’t widowed though, were you? Didn’t you get…divorced?”
“Yes, I’m shockingly divorced, but my very brave wife wanted me for a husband anyway. I guess that’s why I’m thrilled that you visited. After my scandals, I don’t have many acquaintances who’ll claim me, and my bride is working to restore my reputation. With you showing up, she’ll assume she’s making progress in redeeming me.”
Christopher chuckled. Alex was probably the most shameful man in the land. When he was much too young, he’d succumbed to familial pressure and wed a pretty, but flighty and capricious trollop.
He was descended from a long line of distinguished soldiers, and he’d been a soldier too. While he was away in the army, his wife had had an affair. Alex came home on furlough and found her six months pregnant—when he’d been gone for twelve.
He was renowned for his bad temper so he hadn’t handled the mess very well. He’d dueled with his wife’s lover and almost killed him. Then he’d been prosecuted and jailed and banished from the country for five years. He’d been abandoned by his many friends and forced out of the army in disgrace.
Christopher had lost track of him just before the duel. He’d only heard about it from other soldiers. But he looked extremely content. He looked happy and settled.
“So who is this stalwart paragon who was willing to wed you?” he asked. “She must be made of steel if she was willing to have you—warts and all.”
“You didn’t realize who it was in the announcement?”
“I was interrupted while reading the article so I never finished it. Might I know her?”
“She’s Viscount Henley’s sister. You recall Hayden Henley, yes? You must have been apprised as to my connection with him.”
Christopher’s jaw dropped. “I daresay the entire kingdom has been apprised of your connection. You’re married to his sister?”
“Yes, and we’re raising Hayden’s daughters.”
“Daughters—as in plural?”
“It was twins.”
“Gad, I can’t figure out what comment would be appropriate. You’ve rendered me speechless.”
“It’s mad, isn’t it?”
“It’s completely deranged, but I would expect nothing less from you. When we were boys, you were wild and reckless, and I was always jealous because I was too much of a coward to behave in the same negligent manner.”
“I’m still wild and reckless, but lately I’ve been trying to grow up and act my age.”
“I have to admit I wasn’t certain of the condition you’d be in, but I’m delighted to report that you look good.”
“I had some hard times, and I was bitter when I arrived back in England. I’m not totally healed from my ordeal, but my wife is helping me to move on. It’s why I wed her. She’s a miracle worker, and she won’t take no for an answer.”
“Women are sneaky, aren’t they? They make us think we can’t get along without them.”
“It’s definitely been the case with me and Abigail.”
“Will I have the chance to meet her? Is she at home?”
“Yes, she’s here. Her sister is visiting so they’re out and about, but you’ll have to stay for supper. And can you tarry afterward? This accursed house is so big. We have plenty of room.”
“I’m on my way to Stanton Manor, but I’m in no rush. I would be honored to stay for a few days—if I won’t be a bother.”
“Are you joking? Abigail will be ecstatic to have company.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall and some giggling too. Two very pretty identical twins came in, and with their blond hair and blue eyes, they could only be the scandalous love-children sired by Hayden Henley.
“Let me introduce you to my daughters,” Alex proudly said. “Girls, this is an old friend of mine from when I was a boy at school.”
They started toward him, and Christopher stood to greet them. As he did, he glanced over their heads and noted what he hadn’t been able to observe when he was seated.
“Catherine?” he gasped at the same moment she snapped, “Mr. Stanton!”
“Catherine!” he repeated. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
“A likely story.” She glared at Alex, then at him, and she scoffed with derision. “Who allowed you to slither in among decent people?”
“Whoa!” Alex severely interjected, and he jumped up. He was flummoxed and a tad alarmed. “Is there something going on I should know?”
“Yes,” Christopher said as Catherine vehemently said, “No!”
“Well, which is it?’ Alex asked.
Catherine mustered her dignity and stared at Alex. “I’ll be in my room, and I will remain there until he vacates the premises. I’d appreciate it if you’d send a servant up to inform me the minute he’s departed.”
She whipped away and stomped out.
He wanted to chase after her, to race to the upper floors, to find her bedchamber and bluster inside. He wanted to demand answers as to why she’d left him, why she’d disappeared without a word—he’d been so afraid for her!—but the twins were agog, watching the adult encounter with too much curiosity.
“That was…intriguing,” Alex said, once the tempest of Catherine’s exodus had waned. “I’m predicting you two are acquainted.”
“We might be,” Christopher tepidly responded.
“I’m also predicting you have an interesting tale to share.”
“It’s not that interesting.”
Alex gestured to the twins. “Why don’t you locate your Aunt Abigail for me? Tell her Catherine needs her.”
They dawdled, clearly not eager to leave and miss the excitement, but Alex shooed them out, then he indicated the sofa again. “Sit yourself down. She’s my sister-in-law.”
“She’s a Henley?”
“Yes, so you owe me an explanation about something. I can’t guess what it might be.”
“You probably have a bit of an idea.”
“I hope not.” They both sat, and Alex refilled their glasses. He studied Christopher, then said, “Begin at the beginning, but I suggest you tread carefully. I occasionally shoot men who anger me.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Who’s being funny?”
Christopher sighed with resignation. He couldn’t avoid the discussion, but there were a few details Alex Wallace shouldn’t ever discover. Alex had a temper. About that one issue, he wasn’t joking, and Christopher had no intention of setting a fuse to it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Are you sure you won’t talk to him?”
“I’m very sure.”
Catherine stood by the window, her back to her sister. She was shaking, furious, weepy beyond words. What was wrong with her?
Since she’d fled London, she’d been agonizingly maudlin. Yes, she’d been betrayed and had had her heart broken, and yes, she’d been fired for moral turpitude, but she was sensible and strong. This was just a bump in the road, and she’d survive it. It was ridiculous to be so morbidly emotional.
“Why is he here?” she asked Abigail.
“I’m supposing he and Alex are friends. I haven’t met him before, but I can’t bear to see you so distraught. Should I have Alex kick him out?”
“If they’re friends, I can’t demand Alex evict him. I barely know your husband. I doubt he’d like me to boss him as to who he can welcome into his own home.”
“Alex is very loyal. If you’re upset, then I’m upset. If you don’t want Mr. Stanton here, then I don’t want Mr. Stanton here. Alex will do as I request.”
Catherine turned around. “Could you have Alex make him leave? Please? I’d be grateful.”
Abigail scowled. “What actually happened between you two?”
“He’s the reason I was fired from my job. He was constantly flirting with me—even though he was engaged to my employer. Once the family discovered how he was behaving, they blamed me for his conduct.”
“Of course they did. That’s how it always goes.”
Catherine had skirted over a huge portion of the story, but she was too humiliated to blurt it out. She wasn’t about to mention falling for his marriage proposal, permitting him to climb into her bed, and expecting him to wed her—a spinster with no money. She was a gullible idiot.
Abigail studied her, her scowl deepening. “Are you positive you’ve told me everything? Is there more to this than what you’ve confided?”
“No. He’s simply a libertine who treated me horridly. I can’t abide that he’s downstairs, and I hate that I’ve brought this difficulty to your doorstep.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re not at fault, and if Mr. Stanton’s presence is bothering you he can depart.”
“I’m sorry.” She was absurdly close to tears.
“Don’t be sorry. Just calm down. You seem so troubled, and you look as if you’ve been ill. You have to recuperate from whatever is ailing you. If Mr. Stanton is the cause of your anguish, then I won’t have him in my home.”
Abigail walked over to Catherine and laid a palm on Catherine’s head, much as their mother used to when they were girls and needed comforting.
“It will be all right, Catherine,” she murmured. “Why don’t you take a nap? You’ll feel better after you’ve rested.”
“Yes, I’m certain I will.”
“I’ll speak to Alex about Mr. Stanton.”
“Let me know when he’s gone, will you?”
“I will.”
Abigail pulled up the quilt on the bed, holding it while Catherine crawled underneath.
“Your maternal instincts are flaring,” Catherine said.
“I’m practicing for the future. I hope I give Alex a dozen children before we’re through.”
“I hope you do too.”
“Do you like him?”
“He’s terrific, Abigail. I’m so happy for you.”
Abigail patted her head again, then she left.
Catherine sighed. She was exhausted and sentimental, but glad she’d come, glad she’d found this safe oasis her sister was offering. Abigail had insisted Catherine could stay forever, that Alex would find Sarah and bring her to Wallace Downs too.
It was a grand property, much like Middlebury had been, and Alex was very rich. There was plenty of space for two sisters to tarry and not be underfoot.
Alex was even investigating the probate on her father’s estate. He wondered about their dowries, if Jasper had been truthful when he’d claimed their father had been a secret spendthrift who’d squandered them.
From the day they’d been notified of their parents’ deaths, they hadn’t had anyone to help them who could provide any genuine assistance. It was marvelous to have Alex raising questions on their behalf. It was thrilling to have someone tough and affluent and unbendable act as their champion. Jasper might have to finally answer for some of his misdeeds.
But thinking of Alex made her think of him talking to Christopher down in the parlor. How dare he show his face at Wallace Downs!
She was certain he hadn’t followed her there. On seeing her, he’d been too surprised, but the fact that he’d blithely visited set her temper flaring. She didn’t have much in the world, but she’d lost it all because of him, and she blamed him for the lingering alarm he’d instilled. She was sure it was why she was constantly dizzy and nauseous.
With her tormented thoughts darting in every direction, she couldn’t relax, and her stomach was churning so violently she was afraid she might vomit. There was a pitcher of water on the dresser, and she rose and wet a cool cloth to pat her hot cheeks. Slowly, her queasiness faded.
She went to the window and stared across the park. Alex’s estate was near the ocean, and through the trees there was a hint of blue. Suddenly, she yearned to be outside more than anything. It was a sunny summer day, and she would wade in the waves and let the fresh air enliven her.
She didn’t need to wallow in misery any longer. Matters had resolved in a perfect way. She was shed of the Boltons and Mrs. Ford. Never again would she have to grovel and ingratiate herself simply so she could earn a wage to keep from starving.
Most especially, she was free of Mr. Stanton and his lies and false promises. She didn’t have to rue or regret about her fate. Abigail had fixed so much of what was wrong by marrying Alex, and Catherine could begin to plan and dream again.
Why, if Alex unearthed some of the dowry money her father had put aside, she might even be able to marry someday. She’d latch onto a steady, kind fellow who would never trick or deceive her, who would always adore and cherish her. It was ridiculous to mourn the loss of Mr. Stanton’s affection.
There was a quiet knock on the door, and a housemaid peeked in.
“Have I disturbed you?” she said. “Your sister expected you to be sleeping.”
“I couldn’t calm down enough to rest.”
“She wanted me to inform you that Mr. Wallace’s caller has gone, and he won’t be back.”
He won’t be back…
The words had a poignant ring to them that made her very sad which was ludicrous. She forced a smile. “Thank you for apprising me, and if my sister asks about me tell her I’m fine, and I’ve decided to walk to the beach. I’m craving the fresh air.”
“There’s an easy path. May I point it out?”
“Yes, please.”
The maid came over to the window and indicated a break in the trees that led straight to it. Catherine grabbed a shawl, but not a bonnet. She was deathly pale and could use some color. Her hair was down too, tied with a ribbon, and once she arrived she would tug off the ribbon so the wind could blow through it.
When she returned, she’d be good as new.
She strolled out the rear of the house and was quickly at the ocean. It was a wild, rugged place, sandy where she was standing, but there were jagged cliffs and huge logs thrown up by the surf.
She took stock of her surroundings, then marched off. She was all alone in the bleak, desolate spot, and it was heady and bracing. She wandered, hunting for shells, picking up rocks. After a bit, she peered down the sand, and a man was riding toward her on a horse. She wasn’t particularly fearful of meeting a stranger, but not necessarily eager to speak to him either.
He was in no hurry and hadn’t noticed her. She halted and watched him, and gradually she realized she knew him extremely well. Her temper exploded. When the housemaid had advised her of his departure, she’d naively assumed he’d left left. She hadn’t for a single second imagined he’d be merrily galloping down Alex’s beach.
He finally glanced up and saw her glaring, and he was close enough that her identity was obvious too. Her initial reaction was to run away. The path to the manor wasn’t that far behind her, and she could swiftly reach it. But she wasn’t a coward, and there were a few pertinent comments she’d like to share with him.
“I was told you’d slinked off,” she said, hurling the first volley. “You’re not welcome here. Wasn’t Alex clear? Didn’t you understand? You were to leave.”
“I received his message, Catherine.”
“It’s Lady Catherine to you. I will even answer to Miss Henley, but you will not refer to me by my Christian name.”
“Why are you so angry with me?” he had the gall to inquire.
“I’d have to care about you to be angry.”
He sighed with what sounded like regret. “What happened to you in London?”
“What do you think happened? I was fired for moral turpitude. Gertrude’s maid, Bertha, was spying on me. It was discovered that I had misbehaved with my employer’s fiancé, and I was kicked out on the street.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why would you be sorry?”
“It was all my fault.”
“It certainly was.”
“I searched everywhere for you.”
“Really? I hid and dawdled near Mr. Bolton’s home for hours and d
ays, being thoroughly convinced you would arrive to take me away as you’d sworn you would. How odd that I never observed you stopping by.”
He frowned. “That can’t be right. I came to find you.”
“A likely story.”
He leapt from the saddle and landed on his feet with the agility of a circus performer. He towered over her, appearing handsome and virile and very, very livid. What had he to be incensed about? She was the one who’d been seduced and ruined. As far as she could tell, he’d suffered no difficulties at all.
He wagged a finger in her face. “Don’t call me a liar. I was frantic with worry, and I won’t have you pretending I wasn’t.”
“Were you frantic?” Sarcastically, she added, “You poor thing, you look absolutely wretched, but why were you fretting? Why would my pitiful plight concern you in the slightest?”
“I couldn’t fetch you that afternoon as we planned. I wrote you a note. Didn’t you receive it?”
“Oh, yes, I received it. I was allowed to see it—after Gertrude had read it herself.”
“My brother had some trouble. I had to deal with it.”
“Brothers can be such a handful, can’t they?”
“Don’t be smart about it. I was delayed by important issues.”
She scoffed. “And I guess that’s why you showed up the very next minute you could manage it.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. “I came as soon as I could. It wasn’t as soon as I wanted, but I came.”
Her sarcasm continued to grow. “Well, I definitely feel better after hearing your explanation. I’ll simply forget about the tortured hours I tarried on their street watching for you.”
“I don’t know why our paths didn’t cross.”
“Perhaps it’s because you were so busy elsewhere. You probably had to sift through a pile of other girls before you could catch a glimpse of me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She was referring to his philandering, to Libby Markham and how Catherine had tried not to believe she’d been seduced by him too, but Libby had confirmed it. At being walloped with the truth, Catherine had been so devastated she’d thought her heart might quit beating, but she wasn’t about to discuss any of it with him.
