by Meara Platt
“With you by my side?” She touched her amulet that was now nestled within her bodice. “Yes, it’s time I learned my fate.”
FAITH’S HEART WAS poised in her throat as she and Caleb walked toward the fair and the fortune teller’s tent. She couldn’t help casting him glances, needing to be certain this was real and not a dream. They would walk together for the rest of their lives, hopefully long lives filled with happy memories. She needed nothing more to convince her that she had made the right choice.
Even if they were not so fortunate as to have much time together before Caleb was sent to serve elsewhere, she knew whatever time they did have would be more splendid than a thousand lifetimes with anyone else. “Caleb, will you hold my hand when we’re in Madame Zeta’s tent?”
They were just coming out of Boscombe Manor’s park and about to take the well-worn trail toward the meadow.
He grinned and paused to kiss her. “Whatever you wish, but she may prefer to see you alone, perhaps read your palm again. She might not want me around to hear what she has to tell you. If you’re concerned, I’ll stand just outside her tent.”
“I’m not afraid of her.” She returned his grin. “Not very much afraid. I’ve been angry with her for so many years only to learn from you that it was all a misunderstanding. I suppose I owe her an apology. She was speaking of a magical true love and I thought…” She shook her head and laughed. “Well, it’s all turned out well in the end.”
But Caleb did not appear as certain.
“What is it?”
She’d seen the flicker of doubt in his eyes.
“Nothing.” When they reached the meadow, he led her to the red tent. The crowd was thin this morning, most fair goers no doubt sleeping off last night’s revelry. The massive ale tent was sparsely populated.
Faith drew in a breath and held it when they came to the fortune teller’s tent. Caleb lifted the flap and stepped aside to allow her to walk in first. It took her a moment to adjust to the dim light, but once her eyes had adjusted, she noticed the fortune teller sitting in her throne-like chair.
To Faith’s surprise, the woman had a gentle, welcoming smile on her face. “Come in, Lady Faith. Please do sit down.”
She nodded and did as the woman asked. “May Caleb stay?”
“If you’d like him to. He may as well hear my warning again.”
“Again?” Faith turned to Caleb in alarm. He’d said nothing to her earlier.
He came to stand beside her chair and put his hand lightly on her shoulder. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Faith.”
“Typical male response,” she muttered, but what if he was in danger? “Tell me what’s wrong, Madame Zeta.”
The woman took Faith’s hand and trailed her finger along her lifeline, her touch as soft as it had been all those years ago. “Your beau is not happy to lose you. He will cause trouble.”
“Lord Hawley? Is that who you mean?”
Madame Zeta nodded.
Faith edged closer, staring at her hand as though it would give her the needed answers. But she was no fortune teller and didn’t really believe Madame Zeta had extraordinary powers, although she’d known about Caleb and had recognized their connection instantly ten years ago. Recognizing true love was not quite the same as seeing into the future. “Will he try to hurt me? Or is it Caleb he means to harm? I don’t care for myself. There is little he can do to me.”
Caleb said nothing, but his hand tightened on her shoulder as a mark of his concern. She knew he wanted to protect her, but Richard was hardly the sort to abduct her and carry her off to Gretna Green.
“Such foolish men can do much damage,” Madame Zeta warned. “Never dismiss their petty jealousy or indignation.”
A terrible thought struck Faith. “Will he attempt to shoot Caleb? Oh, Caleb! What have I done?”
“Faith, it’s all right. I’ll stay alert now that Madame Zeta has warned us. But I doubt he intends violence. He knows who my family is and will fear for his own life if anything happens to me. Not even the marquis will be able to protect him from the wrath of the Braydens. In truth, he’s probably too afraid of my surviving and coming after him.”
“Perhaps not physical harm,” she said with much relief, “but will he try something underhanded?”
When she turned to the fortune teller for an answer, the woman shook her head in dismay. “I can see no more.”
Faith wanted to reach across the table and shake her till her teeth rattled. How could she leave matters this way? “Yes, you can. You see everything. What else do you know that you’re not telling us?”
“It isn’t up to me.” Her eyes suddenly began to fill with tears. “If I could control what is shown to me…if I were able to read people’s hearts…” She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “The course of one’s destiny is never firmly set. Destiny is a river whose flow changes over time. Events will change it, for the good or for the bad. I would help you if I could. I sense danger, but the outcome is up to you.”
Faith felt frustrated, but believed this woman. “I’ll never forgive myself if Caleb is harmed. This is all my fault. I should never have given Richard hope. But I didn’t know what love was until I met Caleb again. It’s beautiful and overwhelming. It swallows you up whole, but in a splendid way. Please send word if you learn something more.”
“My dear, I will.”
Faith rose to stand beside Caleb, taking his hand as she looked up at him. “I love him, Madame Zeta. Nothing will change that.”
She nodded. “I’ve rarely felt anything so powerful as the vision that came to me when you first walked into my tent as a little girl. When your Caleb came soon after to reprimand me, my heart filled with joy. You were both so young, but your hearts knew.”
Faith did not understand how or why these magical feelings arose, but knew better than to dismiss them. It didn’t make sense that one could need only a moment, a mere glance, to choose the person with whom they would walk through life. Having met Caleb again, she could never consider a life without him. “I was so angry for all these years believing you’d given me a cruel fortune, but Caleb told me what you’d really said. I’m sorry I believed the worst. Yet, if I hadn’t been frightened out of my wits, he never would have found me. I owe you my heartfelt gratitude. Whatever the danger, we’ll battle it together.”
Madame Zeta breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you understand. You were meant to meet your noble dragon slayer at the last Scarborough Fair. You were meant to fall in love with him at this one.”
“Faith is not the only one with reason to be grateful,” Caleb said. “I am as well, very much so. But you are still distraught. I think it has nothing to do with our situation. Is there anything we can do for you?”
Faith was surprised by Caleb’s question, but he didn’t gain his reputation as an outstanding field commander by chance. He also had good intuition, although he did not make a traveling show of his talents.
“I hope so, but I’m not certain anyone can help me. I am looking for a family by the name of Elliott. Do you know them?”
Faith pursed her lips in thought. The name was not unusual, but she knew of no Elliotts in the area. She cast Caleb a questioning glance, but his eyes did not light up with recognition either. “No, not in these parts,” Faith said with gentle remorse. “I’ll ask around and send word to you if I do. I know Caleb will do the same.”
Faith glanced up at him and felt a deep tug to her heart. “But we don’t know where he’ll be sent next. Newcastle, for now. I hope Scarborough soon after and for always.”
The fortune teller came to her side and took her hand again. “It doesn’t matter where he’s sent. His heart will always be with you.”
Caleb leaned forward and gave Madame Zeta a light kiss on the cheek. “I’ll ask around about the Elliotts. Good fortune to you, and may you find your happiness soon.”
They walked out together, Faith squinting her eyes to adjust to the glare of light even though the sky
had remained overcast. “Why do you suppose she needs to locate them?”
“I don’t know.”
Faith sighed. “I hope she finds whatever it is she is looking for.”
Caleb walked her back to Boscombe Manor, both of them lost in their thoughts. He did not come in when they arrived at her door. “I must return to my regiment. But I’ll see you this evening.” He leaned forward and kissed her deeply and possessively, conveying so much with the warm touch of his lips upon hers. “Stay close to home, Faith. If there’s to be trouble, I want you out of the way.”
“Do you truly believe Richard means to harm us?”
He frowned. “I don’t know, but why take chances? Stay close to your uncle and keep Fleming and his sons near you, too. I’ll return as soon as I can.”
CHAPTER NINE
A LIGHT MIST fell, turning the path slick as Caleb rode to Boscombe Manor in time for supper with Faith and her uncle. He knew Lord Hawley and the Marquis of Crichton would be there as well and was not looking forward to the confrontation. As though an omen, even the sea had turned turbulent, the waves crashing down with pounding force upon the rocky barrier that protected the regimental tents.
Well, he and his men had enjoyed several days of sunshine and calm waters. They were in good enough spirits to manage one impending storm.
He stabled Pharaoh himself and saw other fine horses in the Boscombe stalls, no doubt those of Hawley and the marquis. His presence at the dinner table would only make matters worse, but after the fortune teller’s warning, he had no intention of leaving Faith unprotected. Of course, Lord Boscombe would give his life for his adored niece, but he was an old man and not in good health. Caleb had no intention of allowing Lord Boscombe to shoulder the burden of protecting her alone.
He also knew that Faith would stand up for herself. But as clever as she was, a slight and slender girl of eighteen years was no match for two noblemen determined to cause trouble. He only hoped the Marquis of Crichton was not as foolish as his nephew.
“Good evening, Fleming,” he said as the trusted butler opened the door to him.
“Good evening, General Brayden. Glad you’ve arrived,” he muttered, casting him a wincing smile. “Lady Faith just told Lord Hawley she will not marry him. He isn’t taking it very well.”
“I’ll make certain he behaves himself.” Although his presence would likely ignite Hawley’s anger rather than calm it. But he preferred to have the anger directed at himself and not Faith.
He walked into the drawing room and had no chance to greet his host before Hawley lunged at him. “You! You did this to her!” Hawley took an ineffectual swing at him and then another.
Caleb easily ducked both attempts and did not counter with a punch he knew would knock the man out cold. When Hawley swung at him again, Caleb grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back to immobilize him. But he was still careful not to twist too hard and break the reckless fool’s arm. Not that he cared about Hawley, but he knew it would distress Faith.
He glanced at her and saw that her face was ashen.
Lord Boscombe stood beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and looking fiercely protective.
Caleb spared a glance at the marquis, surprised to find him frowning at his nephew and not at them. “Lord Crichton,” he said while holding an enraged Hawley in his iron grip, “I’ll release your nephew when he calms down. I understand his anger toward me, which is the only reason he is still conscious and not nursing a bruise to his jaw the size of a cabbage. But he’s had his moment and it is time for him to behave.”
Hawley’s face was red and spittle had formed along the corners of his mouth. “You’ll never have Faith! I’ll make certain of it.”
This time, Caleb twisted his arm until the man cried out in pain. “Touch so much as a hair on her head and I’ll rip you apart limb by limb. Got that, Hawley?”
The marquis stepped forward. “Nephew, is this the way you wish the woman you love to remember you?”
“What do I care now? She won’t have me now that Brayden has ruined her. Nor will I have another man’s leavings. How long did it take you to get your filthy hands under Faith’s petticoats, Brayden? An hour? A day?”
Caleb twisted his arm again. “I vow, I shall break it if you ever repeat that lie. Apologize to Lady Faith.”
The fight seemed to go out of Hawley for the moment. He turned to Faith, and when he spoke to her, his voice was little more than a whimper. “Why him? I offered you everything. You could have had the wealth, the title. Even this man after you’d given me heirs.”
Faith gasped and put a hand to her heart. “How dare you! This is why I won’t have you now or ever. Marriage is sacred. I would never cheat on my husband. But how long did you intend to remain true to your vows before you made a mockery of them? Do you have a mistress now? One you intended to keep after we were married?”
She curled her hands into fists and approached Hawley. “Go back to London, Richard. Find yourself a wife who cares only for your wealth and title. Cheat on each other to your heart’s content.”
Caleb held him a little tighter as Faith approached. He understood the man was presently blinded by rage, but if he set a hand on Faith, Caleb would kill him without hesitation.
Hawley must have sensed the danger behind Caleb’s silence. “Let’s go, Uncle. This has all been a waste of time.”
He turned to Caleb when Caleb released him. “I don’t wish you well. I curse your marriage. I curse your children. I–”
Caleb smashed his fist into the man’s face. He’d been too lenient with him, understanding he’d been wounded by love. But to wish ill on the woman he supposedly loved sickened Caleb. Had Faith chosen Hawley over him, it would have ripped his heart to pieces, but he never would have wished her to be miserable.
He would have wished for her happiness.
Of course, he would have gotten himself drunk for days, perhaps weeks, but never would he have insulted or defamed her, or ever denied her if she turned to him for assistance.
He stared at the man now lying dazed at his feet. Blood dripped from Hawley’s nose. “Oh, dear,” Faith said and ran to the kitchen to fetch a damp cloth to wipe the blood off her former beau’s face.
Lord Boscombe motioned to him and Lord Crichton. “We ought to finish this unsavory business in my study. My butler and footmen will tend to your nephew,” he said to the marquis. “Say whatever it is you wish to say to me while we are out of Faith’s earshot. She has too soft a heart and these insults have hurt her deeply.”
Lord Crichton followed him into the study.
Caleb followed as well, if only to calm their fears that he would kill Hawley if left alone with the man. But he stood by the door to make certain to hear Faith when she returned with the cloth. He did not want her alone with Hawley.
Lord Crichton took the lead. “Let’s make this brief. I came here expecting not to like your niece and determined to forbid my nephew ever to marry her. However, I am dismayed to find that she is far too good for him and that he has much growing up to do before he assumes my title. I blame myself for failing to notice this vindictive pettiness in him. The only good thing to come out of this sad affair is that he chose wisely. It gives me hope that he will eventually grow into a man of worth and marry well.”
He winced and cast Caleb a mirthless smile. “I would have shot any man who spoke to me about the woman I loved as he did to you about Lady Faith. You showed remarkable restraint.”
Caleb sighed. “The evening isn’t over yet.”
“I had better get him back to the inn before he starts ranting again. I’ll ask your indulgence, Lord Boscombe. I need your carriage. My nephew is in no condition to ride a horse.”
“Of course. I’ll have Fleming bring it around at once.”
Caleb heard Faith’s light step as she returned from the kitchen. “A moment,” he said, stepping into the hall as she hurried toward the drawing room. “I’ll go with you.”
She manag
ed a small smile. “Perhaps you had better not. He didn’t take too kindly to your presence. But I’m glad you’re here. I wanted you beside me and knew it would be uncomfortable for Richard, but I never expected his outburst.”
“Nor did any of us, including his uncle. The marquis had better keep himself alive long enough to teach that whelp some manners.” He sighed. “I’ll escort them back to the inn to make certain Hawley doesn’t cause another scene.”
Faith put her hand on his arm. “No, Tom and Rafe will go with them.”
He needed little coaxing, for he had only a few days left with Faith and did not wish to spend another moment of it with her petulant former beau. Besides, they had their own marriage plans to discuss.
The carriage was brought around and Fleming’s sons lifted Hawley into it. The marquis climbed in beside his nephew.
Faith’s uncle came to stand beside him and Faith to see the carriage off. “Glad that’s over,” the old man muttered. “Now, Caleb, let’s talk seriously about your intentions.”
He arched an eyebrow. “My intention is to marry your niece as soon as possible, if she’ll have me. Of course, we’ll need your consent.”
“Our party is tomorrow evening,” her uncle said. “The regimental officers are invited, as you know. It was to be in celebration of Faith’s betrothal to–”
“Do not mention his name,” Faith cried, putting her hands over her ears.
Lord Boscombe grumbled and rolled his eyes. “My point is, a wedding celebration will delight our guests. The only difference is that it shall be Faith’s wedding to you.”
Faith lowered her hands from her ears and smiled. “That’s better.”
“Lord Boscombe, will you go to the parish church with me first thing in the morning to obtain the license? Our marriage must take place there before noon and we’ll need your consent in writing to wed.” He turned to Faith. “I’d like us to be married before I leave, but I won’t rush you. I know you were rattled by tonight’s incident. I want you to be sure when you exchange vows with me. Your party need only be a party and nothing more if that is your preference.”
