by Ava Stone
She cupped his jaw and stared into his dark blue eyes. He was always trying to save someone, wasn’t he? Her husband was a wonderful man, and she was quite fortunate to have him, as was Rose. Still that didn’t mean he had all the answers. “I don’t think he’d be able to, if they were married. Leave her, that is.”
“It would be worse,” Brendan replied. “And if they were married, I wouldn’t have any say, any control—just like your brothers lost with you.”
“Perhaps,” Cordie answered carefully. Her mind spun until she had a solution that would make even Lady Staveley proud.
***
Brendan couldn’t believe he’d let Cordie talk him into this. It was foolhardy on many levels, but he kept going back to the look of pure joy he’d seen on Rose’s face that afternoon. If it was possible for his sister to be happy all her life, if she could be as happy as he was with Cordie, he wanted it for her.
As they entered the yellow parlor, Brendan looked directly at Richard Lester. The vicar met his gaze head-on, no longer the directionless youth he’d been when he departed Sudbury. On the settee beside Rose, Lester cradled her hand in his own, and Brendan’s worries washed over him anew. What if this man hurt her again? How would Rose go on? He’d watched one sister die of a broken heart and didn’t have it in him to watch the same tragedy happen again.
Cordie went directly to the tea service and poured. “Mr. Lester, how do you take your tea?”
“Two sugars, no milk.”
“Brendan?” she asked, while she added the sugars to the vicar’s tea.
“Nothing for me, love,” he answered, sitting in a light yellow brocade chair.
She handed Lester his cup and smiled at Rose, who was still teary-eyed. “And what about you, Rosamund? Would you like tea?”
Rose nodded. “Lots of sugar, please.”
Cordie laughed. “My friend Phoebe Greywood is the same way.”
Brendan closed his eyes, praying his wife was right about this. The sound of her voice put him more at ease. He took a steadying breath, then opened his eyes, leveling them on the young vicar. “All right, Lester. My wife has convinced me that I should at least hear you out.”
The vicar’s eyes flashed to Cordie and he smiled at her, then he looked back at Brendan. “Lord Clayworth, thank you.” He cleared his throat and sat a little straighter. “I have returned to Sudbury, replacing Mr. Pitney as this parish’s vicar. My income is modest, but I can provide for Rose.”
“She has a sizable dowry,” Brendan said. She hadn’t until about five minutes ago, but she did now. After working through the situation with Cordie’s dowry, he’d decided it would be best to make sure Rose had a similar trust in case the worst occurred. Making certain she was safe and comfortable was a top concern. Before he was marched off to the gallows and his funds seized, he could make sure Rose would be provided for.
The vicar’s eyes widened at the announcement.
Cordie had suggested that instead of Lester taking a spot at the vicarage, that Brendan offer him the rectory on Bayhurst grounds. He would essentially be the man’s employer. He could still keep an eye on Rose. In the event his property was seized by the crown, he wasn’t sure what would happen to Lester. It would be better to let him maintain his position in the village. “The dowry is in the form of a trust, however. It is in Rose’s name, and I am the executor. If I am unable to perform those duties, the responsibility will be transferred to the Marquess of Astwick.”
He would have to go to Town fairly soon and have his solicitors draw up this agreement. He did not relish that conversation. These were rather unusual circumstances, with even more unusual stipulations. Solicitors, as a rule, preferred situations that were not unusual.
“Lord Clayworth,” Richard Lester began softly, “I am not interested in your money. I love Rose for herself.”
That Brendan did not doubt. Lester must truly love Rose to want her as his wife for the remainder of his life. She could be difficult and immature, but Lester had grown up with her. He knew those things. Yet, he still wanted to marry her, as Cordie pointed out. He did know exactly what he was asking for.
Brendan nodded. “You may start the banns Sunday.”
“Oh, Richard!” Rose threw her arms around Lester’s neck and the vicar kissed her cheek. Then she leapt from her seat and dropped on her knees before her brother. “Brendan, thank you.”
He prayed she’d stay this happy throughout her life. And he prayed he’d be around to see it. “You are welcome, dearest. Now, if you and Cordie will excuse us, I do have something else I need to address with Mr. Lester.”
Rose scrambled to her feet and linked her arm with Cordie’s. “I am getting married.”
Cordie smiled at him, and Brendan felt it in his soul. He was the most fortunate of men to have her as a wife. Having her approval was heady indeed.
After his wife had shut the door, leaving them alone, Brendan narrowed his eyes on the vicar. “Just so there are no misunderstandings, Lester, if you hurt her, leave her like you did before, there won’t be a place safe enough for you to hide in all of England.”
The man didn’t even flinch. “I’ve lived without her for two years, my lord. I don’t want to go back to that existence.”
Brendan nodded, rose from his seat, and escorted his soon-to-be brother-in-law from the yellow parlor. In the hallway, he found Gregory Avery waiting from him, a pensive expression across his face. “Mr. Lester, I expect you will call on Rose tomorrow.”
“Of course, my lord,” the vicar said cheerfully before showing himself out.
Brendan stepped towards Avery, with a raised brow. “Well?”
The baron shook his head. “Mother had no idea what I was talking about, Clayworth. And neither do I.”
Brendan’s heart sank. “Then they must be at your Rufford Hall. We need to find them.”
“I think it’s time you told me what this is all about.”
~ 33 ~
Brendan frowned at Gregory Avery. In the baron’s spot, he’d demand the same thing. Still, he couldn’t just blurt out the truth. Well, my mother was a traitor and a spy. I’d like to get her letters back to avoid the gallows myself. So, he shook his head. “They’re of a personal nature and could be quite embarrassing for my family, of which your sister is now a member.”
Avery scoffed. “You truly are the heartless bastard Marina always said you were.”
His body stiffened at the insult, and he wished he could throw the baron from his house. However, that wouldn’t help his quest, so he reigned in his temper. He and Avery could sling insults back and forth at each other, or they could work towards a solution. There certainly was no point in doing the former. “Do you know of a place she might have hidden them?”
Avery shook his head in disgust. “How dare you pretend an interest in my sister—marry her for God’s sake, when all you really wanted were letters Marina never even gave my family! Cordie deserves better than you.”
On that they could agree. Cordie deserved a husband whose past didn’t threaten her future. However, he wouldn’t give her up for anything in the world. Brendan rubbed the bridge above his nose, hoping to avoid a headache. With the way this day was going, he didn’t hold out a lot of hope. “This isn’t helping anyone, Avery, least of all your sister. Now we need—”
“What’s not helping me?” Cordie’s voice came from the end of the hall. With a concerned look, she started towards them.
Gregory Avery’s eyes challenged him to tell her the truth, which Brendan had hoped to avoid, though that didn’t seem possible any longer. He would, however, not do so with an audience. “Cordie love, I am so sorry things have been in disarray ever since we’ve arrived. Allow me to take you on a tour of Bayhurst Court.”
“Are you going to tell her or shall I?” the baron demanded, making Brendan want to punch him right in the mouth. His wife wouldn’t thank him for that, however.
“Stay out of my affairs, Avery,” he warned, with only the slightest ed
ge to his voice.
“What is going on with the two of you?” Cordie asked, stopping next to Brendan and linking her arm with his.
Her green eyes, so filled with worry, made Brendan’s heart lurch. What if she believed, as Gregory Avery did, that he’d only married her to get his hands on the letters? That thought had never entered his mind until this moment. True, the possibility of reclaiming the letters had piqued his interest initially, but not for very long. Cordie had captured his heart so early on, the letters had ceased to be a motivation where she was concerned. “Dear, there’s something we need to discuss.”
The baron snorted.
Cordie frowned at her brother. “Greg, I don’t know what has gotten into you.”
“Your husband has something to tell you, and if you want to leave him when this is all over, I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”
***
Cordie gaped at her brother. Why on earth would he say something like that? The words were just as surprising as the source. Gregory was always so involved with his own life, he paid very little attention to hers. Brendan tightened his hold on her arm and she glanced up at him. Her husband’s face was white as a ghost. “Brendan?”
He glared at her brother. “How dare you! She is my wife.”
“How dare you!” Greg countered.
Something was terribly wrong. Her brother was never belligerent. Cordie’s stomach tightened. “Will one of you please tell me what is going on?”
Brendan glowered at her brother, but spoke very softly to her, “Allow me to show you to your suite of rooms, love. We can talk there. Alone.”
She felt sick. Whatever this was, it was truly awful. She nodded, clutching his arm tighter, wishing they’d never left Scotland, wishing the real world hadn’t come crashing back in on them. Her family. Brendan’s sister. Whatever this was.
Her mind was numb, searching for possible scenarios, as he escorted her down the corridor, around a corner, and up a flight of stairs. She had no idea where she was going and doubted she’d remember her way back at the end of this. Jaw clenched, Brendan said nothing, and she had the feeling he was trying to find the best way to tell her something dreadful. All of it making her much more anxious.
Finally they stopped in front of a large oak door and Brendan pushed it open. “Mrs. Webb has apparently been working tirelessly on getting your rooms in order ever since my instructions arrived.”
She took no note of the room other than the fact that it was yellow, as she was too upset to focus on anything in particular. “Mrs. Webb?”
He smiled sadly. “Our housekeeper. I’m sorry my plans fell apart at the seams. I’d intended for you to meet the staff, tour the estate, but…”
“My family,” she responded quietly. Glad as she was to see Tristan, she wished none of them had come. “Brendan, what is going on between you and Greg? The two of you looked ready to tear each other apart. That is not like my brother at all.”
“I’m afraid Lord Avery and I see many things differently.” He then grumbled something that sounded like, “And he seems to make a habit of taking my wives away from me.”
Though she must have misheard him. “You’re not making any sense, Brendan.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want to lose you.”
There was no danger of that. They were married. Their marriage was well and thoroughly consummated. They couldn’t even get an annulment if they wanted it—which she wholeheartedly did not. “My place is with you. What has you so upset?”
His hold tightened around her and he his voice shook, “I’m at a loss as to how to tell you this. Which is ridiculous. I had the entire trip to Scotland to do so. I just didn’t think it would turn out like this.”
It was worse than she thought. He’d never shied away from telling her anything. Cordie pulled back and looked him in the eyes. His twilight gaze was more intense than she could ever remember. “Please, you’re worrying me.”
“I’ve never spoken these words aloud, Cordie. Give me a minute.”
She looked around her room and spotted two chintz chairs near a large window. “Perhaps we should sit.”
He nodded and followed her to the chairs, sinking into his after she took her seat. “I’ve been… Well, my mother… Marina found…”
“Brendan, you know my darkest secret. You’re my husband. You can tell me anything.”
He sat forward in his seat, grasping her hands in his, a desperate look across his face. “You do believe I love you?”
She nodded. “And I love you, too.”
Brendan closed his eyes. “After my mother died, Marina went through her belongings…”
Cordie patiently waited for more. This had to do with his mother and Marina, but not them. Whatever it was, they’d find a way to sort it out.
“It was stupid, foolish of me. I should have done the chore.”
“I’m sure you were grieving.”
“I’ve grieved a lot more over the last seven years,” he grumbled.
“Why?” she asked quietly.
He pierced her with a pained look. “Mother was a traitor, Cordie. A spy for the French. I didn’t know. Marina found some letters, correspondence she’d saved from her contacts in Paris. What they wanted from her. Thanking her for supplying other information. Things of that nature.”
Cordie couldn’t stop her mouth from falling open. A traitor? A spy for the French? She couldn’t imagine such a thing. Not after the countless soldiers who’d died fighting on the continent. Not after the thousands who’d been injured. Not after Russell and Tristan had both risked their lives in the war. This was why Greg thought she’d want to leave her husband.
Though apparently, her oldest brother didn’t know her well at all. She’d never just abandon her husband. Especially as he’d done nothing wrong.
Brendan wasn’t a spy. He didn’t even have to tell her, for her to know the truth. She knew him. He was honorable, noble. “You’re innocent.”
He rubbed his brow. “I took her to France, Cordie. Her and my sisters, time and again, to visit family. In the eyes of the crown, I’d be just as culpable.”
That was ridiculous. He couldn’t be responsible for something he didn’t know about. She shook her head. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s with a heavy heart that I do so. I am so sorry to have attached your name to mine—”
“How dare you?” Cordie interrupted. “Brendan Reese, I am happy to be your wife, and I would not want it any other way. I can’t believe that you do.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” He stood and began to pace the room. “I’d just hoped to have this resolved before we married, or shortly thereafter.”
What did their marriage have to do with any of this? “How so?” she asked with a frown.
Brendan stopped mid-pace, his twilight eyes boring into hers. For the longest time, she thought he wouldn’t speak at all. Then he took a deep breath. “I believe your family is in possession of the letters. I think Marina hid them somewhere at Rufford Hall.”
Cordie gaped at him. “Rufford Hall?” Her stomach dropped and she felt the room start to spin. “That’s why you courted me,” she whispered, realization setting in. “That’s why you married me.”
“No!” he hissed, rushing to her side. “You can’t believe that. Tell me you don’t.”
She didn’t want to believe that. But somehow it made sense. Why he’d suddenly been interested in her. Why he’d insisted on courting her, even when she fought him every step of the way.
Brendan knelt at her feet. “Cordie, tell me you don’t believe that.”
She shook her head, unable to find her voice.
He squeezed her hands, begging her with his eyes. “I fell in love with you, Cordie. With your spirit and love of life. Your blind loyalty and devotion to those you love. Your beguiling green eyes and sharp tongue. You take my breath away every time I look at you. From the very first, you captured my hea
rt. Please tell me you know that.”
She didn’t realize she was crying until Brendan brushed away her tears. “Why do you think my family has the letters?” she asked so softly she could barely hear herself.
Brendan wrapped his arms around her. “Forget the letters, Cordie. We’ll deal with them later. Do you know that I love you?”
Ten minutes ago she did, and she wanted to believe him now. A memory of him smoothly lying to her mother about looking for a book on Scandinavia flashed in her mind. At the time, she’d been astounded that he could recover so deftly from their kiss and innocently converse with her mother.
He loved his family fiercely. She’d seen that first hand with Lady Rosamund this afternoon. Certainly he wouldn’t hesitate to marry her in order to protect the ones he loved.
It would be in his best interest for her to believe he loved her. If he wanted his letters, he would need her support in dealing with her family. Especially as Greg didn’t seem willing to give them to him. Well, that was ridiculous. They belonged to him. Greg shouldn’t withhold them. “Brendan, please let me go.”
His arms fell from her, and he looked as if she’d punched him. “Cordie.”
She stepped around him. “If you need your letters, I’ll make sure Greg gives them to you.” Focusing on the task at hand would keep her mind off her breaking heart.
He called out just as she reached the door, “Wait!”
Cordie’s heart leapt and she turned to face him. “Yes?”
“He doesn’t think he has them. He doesn’t know what’s in them.”
Cordie closed her eyes, willing her heart not to ache. “We’ll have to tell him, Brendan. With the animosity between the two of you, if he finds them, he’ll read them anyway. I don’t believe he’ll want to hurt me anymore than I already am. Greg can be trusted.”
Her husband snorted at that.
“Despite his distance, my brother does love me. He wouldn’t do anything with your letters, because it would reflect badly on me. I suppose your choice of wife was wise after all.”
Before he could utter a protest, she quit the room.
