Integrity's Choice (Sisters of the Revolution Book 5)

by Diana Davis

  All amusement was gone from Marks’s face now. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I only mean that, once entered into, you can’t take the vows back. I’ve seen much heartache caused by people who would have been aided by a few moments’ reflection.”

  “I understand more about that than you could ever know,” Marks gritted out.

  The anger in his voice made Henry take a half-step back, but he would be derelict in his duty if he didn’t inquire after such a statement. He would have to be direct. “Forgive me for asking, but you’re not already married, are you?”

  “Of course not! Why would you ask that?” Marks demanded.

  “I’m sorry,” Henry said quickly. “What you just said . . . I had to be sure.”

  “How sick is the other vicar?” The bridegroom’s voice was flat.

  Henry winced. “Very, from what I understand.”

  Marks looked him up and down. “Do you endear yourself to all your parishioners this way?”

  “I’m sorry; I’ve obviously upset you. Please know that I mean well.”

  Marks took a long, slow breath. “As I said, the marriage is the most important thing, not who performs it.”

  “Marriage is certainly one of God’s greatest gifts to mankind,” Henry agreed.

  “How long have you been married?” Marks eyed Henry critically.

  “Oh, I’m not.” Marks’s raised eyebrows discomfited him. “I’d like to be. I mean, I will be, but —” He stopped himself just in time. “Let me show you where to wait, shall I?” That was probably enough counseling, all things considered.

  Henry deposited Marks in another room and dressed himself in his clerical robes.

  Henry would have to be very careful with his words during his brief stint in the colonies, for it was decidedly improper to speak of a future engagement when nothing was officially settled between himself and Miss Weyman. As soon as he’d observed the disposition of the domain and determined if Duché were still loyal to the king, Henry would write to the Bishop of London with his findings.

  Then, if all went according to plan, Henry would return to England, marry Miss Weyman, and become assistant rector to her father — eventually rector, when the noted theologian saw fit to retire.

  Everything in Henry’s life was perfectly planned, and nothing could disrupt it.

  Verity hustled into the church after Mama, Mercy following close behind, and tried to squeeze into the crowded box pew. It was a good thing for the sake of space that Owen was gone with the Philadelphia Light Horse, though obviously a heavily pregnant Temperance would have preferred to have her husband safely at her side. Gilbert, Patience’s husband, leaned forward and waved merrily at the newcomers before slipping his arm around Patience, who was also expecting, though not quite so far along.

  The family pew, rented by Papa since St. Peter’s opened, was so close to the organ pipes at the front that Verity felt each note in her teeth as the organist began playing. Before long, Fischer took his place in front of the altar rail, followed by Mr. Duché.

  Verity froze; that was not Mr. Duché. Standing before the church was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes upon. He was tall, and though he wore his own hair instead of a wig, it had been expertly rolled and powdered in an elegant fashion.

  He looked up, and Verity could hardly breathe in anticipation as she waited for their eyes to meet. She counted her heartbeats under her breath. “One, two, three, four . . .” He smiled politely off in the distance, but didn’t look anywhere near Verity.

  “Constance is lovely,” Mercy said in Verity’s ear, and Verity turned to see that everyone was watching Constance walk in with Papa.

  “Who is that vicar?” Verity demanded. Mercy shrugged but didn’t take her eyes off Constance. Verity also watched her sister, looking like an angel as she walked toward them. Constance beamed at Fischer as if she were the happiest woman in the world.

  Verity turned back toward the handsome vicar as soon as Constance had passed, but a coughing fit across the aisle caught her attention.

  It appeared that Amos Gallagher might cough himself to death in the middle of the wedding, and Verity found it difficult to muster more than mild concern.

  She’d discovered Amos storming out of the Beauforts’ home in June, and he’d wasted no time telling her their courtship was at an end. He’d only pretended to be interested in her patriotic play because he’d thought Verity’s wealthy cousin would pay him handsomely to have it printed.

  “But I thought you loved the play!” she’d protested, heedless of the fact that they were standing in a public street.

  Amos, previously quite amiable, had sneered at her. “Your play is so dreadful even Beaufort couldn’t countenance forcing it on the innocent readers of Philadelphia.”

  Verity hadn’t been able to do more than stare at Amos before sweeping off through the mews and garden to her own home. She still wasn’t sure what hurt more, Amos’s deception or David’s rejection. He’d always seemed eager to appear in her productions, but he’d obviously just been attempting to be kind.

  The real kindness would have been to tell Verity how awful her plays were before she humiliated herself before Amos and everyone else who’d been forced to endure them. Once she’d read through all her past work, she’d seen the truth for herself. Her writing was dreadful. She hadn’t so much as opened a book of plays since then. She’d even lost the heart to tell dramatic stories to her small cousins, for the merest reminder of her mediocrity was too painful to endure.

  Verity forced her attention to more pleasant subjects: her sister’s marriage and the attractive vicar officiating the wedding. After it was all over, and Fischer seized Constance to bestow a lingering kiss, Verity leaned over to speak to her mother and father, who had joined them from his spot at the front of the chapel. “Mama, oughtn’t we to invite the vicar to dine with us?”

  Mama acquiesced readily. “I’m sure Mr. Crofton will appreciate the chance to speak to his cousins.”

  Papa was on the church vestry; of course they’d know all about the man. “Cousins?”

  Papa chuckled and inclined his head toward the Beauforts’ pew, right behind theirs. “You share your cousins with the new vicar.”

  Verity looked incredulously from her cousins, Helen and Cassandra, back to Mama and Papa. How marvelous! They’d know all about him. “Why didn’t I know of this?”

  Papa gave her a look of jovial skepticism. “You must have been in the throes of writing another theatrical when we discussed it.”

  Honestly, did no one in her family recall that she had sworn off everything to do with the theater? Why did she even bother to speak when it was clear no one paid her the slightest mind?

  She turned around to find Mr. Crofton was walking right toward her. No, he was approaching Helen and Cassandra. Still, they’d surely introduce Verity if she were standing with them. She slipped quickly into their pew. This could be the most important day of her life.

  Henry had been shocked as he looked out over the wedding guests and saw two of his Crofton cousins in the congregation. Hadn’t his older brother, Lowell, told Henry the sisters had settled in Plymouth?

  Then again, Lowell wasn’t exactly renowned for paying attention to details that didn’t concern himself. Henry should’ve written his orphaned cousins himself and not relied on Lowell for news of their welfare.

  With a twinge of conscience, he set off to speak to them just as soon as the ceremony was over. “Helen,” he greeted, bowing deeply. “Cassandra.” His cousins curtsied in response, along with the young lady standing next to them.

  Henry stilled midway through standing from his bow. There in the pew with his cousins was, perhaps, the loveliest young lady he’d ever seen. Rose pink lips, dazzling green eyes, and a charming heart-shaped face left him speechless.

  “How nice to see you, Henry,” Helen replied. “It’s been some time.”

  “What?” Henry straightened himself quickly. What a fool he must have l
ooked frozen in that position. “Oh yes, beyond three years since we last met.”

  “Six, in fact,” Cassandra informed him, though her smile belied the censure her words implied. Both of his cousins were dressed in wool, but the quality and cut of the gowns made it clear they were expensive. In fact, looking around, Henry realized that the young lady before him was the only person other than the bride wearing silk. Was this some kind of colonial fashion, or were the finest materials not to be had here?

  “I apologize for slighting you.” Henry grimaced. “I bitterly regret not doing more to stay in contact with you.”

  Helen inclined her head. “Obviously we could also have made an attempt to write to you.”

  “Happily, we can repair the rift now,” Cassandra said. “I’m sure my husband will be eager to host you for dinner.” She gestured to where David stood talking with the Harrisons.

  “Husband?” Henry repeated. “Lowell never said you’d married.” His eyes kept darting to the young lady. Would they not introduce her?

  “We both have.” Helen interrupted his thoughts. “I don’t see why he would have told you, as we haven’t kept in contact with him, either.”

  “Oh.” Where had Lowell gotten his news of the sisters, then? Henry couldn’t resist any longer and turned his attention to the third lady. “Who is this?”

  “One of our cousins on our mother’s side, Miss Verity Hayes,” Cassandra told him.

  She was unmarried, then. Henry bowed once more. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Hayes.”

  Miss Hayes also curtsied again. “The pleasure is all mine.” Even her voice was attractive. He had to know her better.

  No, he was already as good as engaged.

  “I need to go and speak to some other parishioners,” Henry said abruptly, though he didn’t know anyone else present. Wonderful; now he was lying in a house of God.

  “My father begs you attend a little wedding supper we are giving at our home,” Miss Hayes said quickly. “In thanks for your kind service to my sister.”

  Henry wanted nothing more than to offer his arm to Miss Hayes and let her sweep him off anywhere, for as long as she liked, but he knew what he must say. “I’m afraid I haven’t the time. Your servant, cousins.” He turned and walked away from the lovely Miss Hayes. His understanding with Miss Weyman couldn’t be forgotten with a single glimpse of a beautiful woman. No matter how beautiful that woman might be.

  Enjoyed this book? Get more of the Sisters of the Revolution series!

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  And read the next book: Devotion’s Cost by Audrey Glenn!

  When Verity inveigles the new vicar into a sham engagement, their relationship isn’t the only thing that’s fake. . . .

  Verity Hayes has the soul of an artist — but her heart belongs to the Reverend Mr. Henry Crofton. She’s tried everything she can think of to prove how perfect they are for each other, but he barely seems to notice she’s alive. With her family of noted patriots about to be run out of town by invading British Regulars, Verity has only days to show Henry she’s the perfect woman for him. Even if it means sacrificing who she really is.

  Henry Crofton came to the colonies to try to reclaim those poor lost sheep who’d strayed from their king. He never anticipated finding the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Despite his attachments back home, he finds himself paying more and more attention to Miss Verity Hayes.

  When Miss Hayes needs rescuing from her family’s marriage machinations, Henry does the only right thing: he agrees to her proposal of a fake engagement. But Verity is hiding the truth: the family pressure, like her personality, is totally fabricated. Can she find the courage to come clean before he finds out the hard way?

  Read Devotion’s Cost by Audrey Glenn!

  And don't miss book 1, A Gentleman’s Daughter!

  It’s hate at first sight for Cassandra and Lord David. Can they stand one another long enough for her to save his life?

  Find out in A Gentleman’s Daughter!

  Join the email group to get a FREE bonus story:

  Fischer has proposed marriage to Constance three times (if you don’t count that first one) — and she’s said no every time. Will she ever change her mind?

  http://love.didavisauthor.com/newsletter5/

  Thank you so much for reading Integrity’s Choice! I’m excited to share another sweet historical romance with you. I hope you’ll continue to join us for all romance of the Revolution!

  Do you know the best way to thank an author when you enjoy a book? We do love getting notes from happy readers, but even more helpful is leaving a review online on Amazon or Goodreads. Reviews also help writers get advertising spots and spread the word about a book.

  Until my next book comes out, I’d like to invite you to join my mailing group! I’ve got lots of fun bonuses there, like videos of the minuet, Fischer’s printing press and Lydia’s clock reel. Join me here: http://love.didavisauthor.com/newsletter5

  Thanks again for reading, and I hope to see you again soon!

  Love,

  More from Diana Davis

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  A Lady to Lead

  Freedom’s Ring

  Liberty’s Charge

  Integrity’s Choice

  Devotion’s Cost

  Loyalty’s Price

  Revolution’s Toll

  Sisters of the Revolution Extra

  A Colonial Christmas 99¢ holiday short story collection

  Contemporary sweet romance by Diana Davis

  Her Reluctant Rock Star

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  As with all of my books, telling this story was only possible with lots of help! My first thanks must go to my family, who are patient and supportive of my writing. So thank you to my husband, children, parents, siblings, and best friend of over twenty years for always supporting my job/hobby/habit/obsession!

  I want to give many thanks to my collaborator, Audrey Glenn, and my beta readers: Jess, authors Ranée S. Clark and JoLyn Brown, Susan Turner, Toria Rogers and Diana Franklin, who all gave much-needed helpful feedback and encouragement.

  Our (masked & distanced!) research trip to Philadelphia was once again highly instructive. Thank you to Elaine Morris with the Hill-Physick House; Damian Niescior, site manager of the Powel House; Cirilo O. of the erstwhile City Tavern restaurant (sob!); National Park Service Rangers Geraldine (sorry I missed your last name!), L. Lavella, Robert E. Liles and E. Knight; and especially Albert Meinster, docent of the Old Pine Street Church, who saw us admiring the rowhouses on his street and took time out of his day to tell us of the street’s history and even show us his back patio. We are also grateful for all we learned in Independence National Historical Park, the Museum of the American Revolution, Fort Mifflin, and the Betsy Ross House. Thanks, too, to our hosts, John and David, for giving us a place to stay right in Society Hill.

  Another round of thanks goes to my collaborator, Audrey Glenn, for talking me off many a ledge with this project, and for keeping me inspired and enthused daily. As much as I love these characters and their stories, our partnership is my favorite part of this adventure!

  Thanks as always to Sally Jo
hnson, my diligent proofreader, coworker and cheerleader!

  I’m grateful to God for giving me this gift, a passion for writing, for reminding me not to hide it under a bushel.

  And I’m grateful to you, reader, for joining me!

  Diana Davis was born and raised in North Carolina. She is also the author of the Dusky Cove cozy mystery series. She has been writing fiction with Audrey Glenn since they were teenagers, and they share an interest in history.

  Diana holds a Bachelor degree in American Studies and taught a course on constitutional history as an undergraduate teaching assistant. She is a candidate for the Master of Fine Art from Vermont College of Fine Arts. She makes her home in the Rocky Mountains with her husband and children.

  Diana loves to hear from readers! You can reach her at didavisauthor@gmail.com.