The Wayfarer's Daughter: A Time Travel Romance (The Wayfarer Series Book 2)

by Jennifer L. Hayes

  Surely she would have said so if she’d known.

  “Why on earth did you not tell us sooner, son? We would never have objected to the match.”

  No, I imagine you wouldn’t have.

  “Perhaps I wanted you to like her on her own merit?” The note of sarcasm burned his tongue. To his own ears it sounded like a terrible lie. When had his father ever liked someone for such reasons?

  “You know me better than that,” the earl scoffed and gave Henry a loud pat on the back. “I suppose my services are no longer required at the door.”

  He made his way over to the countess, eager to share his news.

  Again Henry waited and then heard another carriage approaching. One with an impressive team of horses, he imagined.

  He checked his the time again. Forty-five minutes and counting.

  The discovery of a long-lost father was sufficient grounds for delay, he supposed. Henry relished the idea of getting the full story, after he took care of some other more pressing business, of course. What had she once said to him? Talking is overrated.

  A broad smile tugged at his lips and he turned towards the door as it sprang open.

  First, Emma’s mother walked in and took a seat.

  The organ master started to play. Backlit from the sun, Emma and the duke walked towards him in careful steady steps.

  Once in the parish her eyes met his and nothing else mattered.

  She was his whole world.

  Coming from the bright sun outside, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark church. I leaned heavily on the strong man beside me.

  My father.

  The Duke of where-did-he-say-again?

  Some of the details were still a bit fuzzy. I’d eaten my last protein bar in the carriage ride over to ward off the nausea I’d been feeling, unsure whether it was the pregnancy or the shock of the morning which caused it.

  The duke had watched me with an amused expression on his face as I devoured the chocolate peanut butter bar.

  “That smells dreadful,” he said with a laugh, his nose twitching slightly.

  “But it’s delicious,” I corrected and my mother rolled her eyes.

  They sat next to each other facing me, the duke’s ungloved hand delicately covering my mother’s.

  I could tell that the simple gesture was searing her skin and his. That was how it always felt with Henry. A simple touch packed quite a punch.

  The chemistry between them was almost palpable. I resisted the urge to say, Get a room!

  I’d never seen my mother look so radiant. Did he bring that out in her?

  My eyes finally focused on Henry.

  He looked incredibly handsome. His dark suit molded perfectly to his lean frame. The blue of his eyes almost shone.

  How could I be so lucky? How could this man want to spend his life with me?

  Both the duke and I looked to my mother, who stood next to Miss Crabtree near the front with tears streaming down her face.

  She’s going to make me cry.

  Harold chose that moment to make his grand entrance. With the doors left open just a crack he’d managed to work his way in. He did a lap of the parish before landing on the pew next to my mother. A small sigh of relief escaped my lips.

  My eyes locked on to Henry’s and nothing else mattered.

  My father gave my arm a squeeze.

  “I could not give you to a more worthy man,” he whispered right into my ear. “You have my blessing.”

  “Thank goodness, it’d be awful to turn back now,” I teased but matched his tone, never taking my eyes off of Henry’s.

  The duke’s body tensed as he stifled a laugh and looked down at me with pride.

  “You are my daughter.” The possessive tone felt nice.

  When we reached Henry. He nodded at my father. “Lord Duke.”

  “Lord Drake.” The duke was keen on formality, I could tell.

  He left us and took a seat next to my mother.

  All was well with the world.

  The vicar gave the usual greeting and sped though the ceremony, much to my relief. It felt sinful to stand in a church and have impure thoughts of my betrothed.

  After Henry repeated his vows, the vicar then turned to me.

  “I, Emma Clayton, take thee Henry James Alexander Drake to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and…” I paused and squinted my eyes at Henry.

  The vicar, worried that I’d forgotten the words offered in a whisper, “to obey.”

  I cleared my throat and Henry smirked at me.

  “To obey-”

  My parents couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

  Henry cocked an eyebrow at me. I knew I was going to pay for that.

  “-till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

  Henry then placed the ring on my fourth finger and said, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship-”

  Just as I was anticipating the part where we got to kiss, the door to the parish flew open.

  Everyone, all eight of us plus one large bird, turned to see who was there.

  “Help!” The lieutenant’s deep voice cascaded off the walls and echoed in my ears.

  In his arms he held a motionless shape. Definitely a woman.

  The dress was tattered and dirty. Blood stained the front folds.

  What was the meaning of this?

  And then recognition hit me.

  In his arms he held Isobel.

  What had happened to her?

  Henry and I both ran towards the lieutenant, followed closely by the others.

  The countess shrieked upon seeing her.

  “What in the devil?” the earl exclaimed.

  The vicar did the sign of the cross and mouthed a silent prayer.

  Isobel’s face was caked in blood, her hair a tangled mess and her jaw clearly broken.

  What kind of monster had done this?

  Chapter 51

  Perfection

  Exhausted, Henry and I arrived back at the White Hart well past midnight.

  The rest of the evening had been a blur of activity, all hands on deck tending to his sister who was in terrible shape. My mother and the countess eventually insisted that Henry and I leave and have our special night together.

  “We’ve got this,” my mother said, urging us to leave.

  The duke was holed up with the earl discussing the best way to handle the situation.

  My poor father. Welcome to the family!

  Henry had arranged for a bathtub to be brought to our room. Had he been just anyone Mrs. Greasley would have objected to the request but given who he was nothing was too much of an inconvenience.

  His clothes were stained with Isobel’s blood and he was in desperate need of a wash. As was I, even if I hadn’t taken an active role in the same way. Both of us needed to feel clean.

  “I promise to make this up to you, darling,” he said for the third time.

  He felt terrible that such an important day had been tainted with such horror.

  Everyone felt quite shaken.

  It had certainly put a damper on things. The meal that had been prepared for the occasion was hardly even picked through, as no one was of the mind to think of food in a time of crisis.

  “I’d say, given our recent history, we got off easy.” I tried to keep the mood light.

  “Perhaps now that we’ve had our fair share of tragedy things will improve.”

  “We can only hope.” I walked to him and started to help him out of his clothes. The bath which was made of copper, was warm and welcoming. “I did discover a father I never knew I had, so it isn’t all bad.”

  “Of course your father turns out to be a duke, no less. Did you know?”

  “Not a clue. My mother has a lot of explaining to do.”

  “What an interesting family you have, my dear.�
�

  “No, what an interesting family we have,” I corrected.

  “Ah, yes, Lady Drake, how right you are.”

  He slid into the bath. Really, calling it a bath was generous. Like most of the fridges in England, it was too small to be truly useful.

  Henry splashed his face and lathered up with a bar of soap. I took the soap from him.

  “Allow me, my lord. Not only can I dispense pills but I give a mean sponge bath.”

  “You are positively shameless.”

  He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into the tub with him, wedding dress and all. I squealed.

  He held me on his lap so I couldn’t struggle. A large wet hand gently turned my head and I found his lips.

  They parted and welcomed me in. It was a staggeringly sensual kiss that sent tingles firing through my body.

  Water splashed all over the floor as I struggled to turn and straddle him. With great difficulty I managed to face him, his hands working to undo my dress.

  “Yeah, about that. Good luck. They had to sew me—”

  His muscles flexed and I heard a loud rip.

  The man was determined, I’d give him that.

  Now it was loose enough to yank over my head.

  He gasped when he took in my undergarments.

  “I’m starting to have quite a fondness for the French lace,” he groaned with admiration. “You have gone to great lengths torturing me these last few weeks, trying desperately to break my resolve. I’m of half a mind to bestow upon you the same courtesy and abstain completely until you make amends for such a wicked deed.”

  “Ah, payback is a bitch!”

  “Such language.” He furrowed his brow. “I thought I married a lady, not a serving wench.”

  “Sometimes we’re one and the same, dearest husband.” I winked at him.

  He barked a laugh and brushed his lips against mine.

  “You’d never be so cruel to me, would you?” I was suddenly fearful.

  “Well, I did say I had only half a mind to do so. The other half is adamantly against it, I’m afraid.”

  For the rest of the night we lost ourselves in each other.

  When the sun finally reached its unwelcome rays through the cracks in the heavy drapes, we fell into a deep slumber, intertwined and blissful.

  Henry’s arms held me closely wedged against his warm body, his hand pressed against my belly and our unborn child.

  Given the perfection of this scene, no one could have predicted what was to come.

  Not even a wayfarer.

  Chapter 52

  Present Day

  April hadn’t been back to Dormer House for six months.

  After Emma’s disappearance she was freaked out to be anywhere near this place. Had Emma made it back?

  She wasn’t sure but needed to find out. As she’d suspected, it was impossible to find any information on Emma, so April decided to make the trek back to the Dormer House stables just like they’d planned.

  Ben had long since moved to London. Life in the country no longer interested him, but April thought it had more to do with Emma’s sudden departure.

  She pulled into the long drive.

  The sign read:

  Dormer House Hotel and Spa

  (Closed for renovations)

  Of course it was.

  There was now a flimsy barricade blocking her path, so she simply parked on the side of the lane and made her way on foot.

  A dull mist of rain had fallen consistently since she’d landed at Heathrow. She pulled her jacket tight around her to ward off the chill from the damp air.

  The weather was a perfect reflection of her own mood. She missed her friend. Like a phantom limb, the space in her heart that belonged to Emma throbbed and ached.

  Perhaps this would set her at ease.

  Knowing that Emma was happy would help her move on and enjoy her own life.

  The small pebbles from the drive crunched underfoot.

  Another pang of sadness hit her when she took in the small cottage that Emma and Ben had rented. A ‘To Let’ sign was posted out front.

  At least she didn’t need to worry about trespassing.

  She reached the stables and went for the spot she and Emma had previously arranged. With a little force she managed to pry open the door that led to the secret corridor.

  A fluttering of bat wings sent her scurrying away. She braced herself for more and when they didn’t come she lowered herself into the musty space.

  Em, I must really love you to do this.

  She turned on the flashlight feature of her iPhone. It was barely enough light but it would have to do.

  She reached her hands along the wall until she felt the loose brick and then gave it a tug. It came loose with little effort.

  Reaching into the opening, she thought of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, when he reached into a spider-infested hole.

  Crap!

  A tingling of nerves threatened to stop her there until her fingers grazed the smooth surface of a bottle. There were two in total. Relieved, she grabbed both and got out of Dodge.

  In her car, out of the rain, she fished the letter out of the first bottle.

  A smile spread across her face.

  Emma had made it and was going to marry Henry. Or Lord Henry Drake, she should say.

  All of April’s effort to get here now felt worthwhile. She was going to have a pint at the local pub and drink to her friend. Finally, a bright light in an otherwise dreary day.

  Eager to find out more, she fished the note out of the second bottle, unrolling it with numb fingers.

  The color drained instantly from her face when she read the first lines.

  Dearest April,

  All is lost!

  The words felt like sledgehammers in her chest.

  What the hell had happened?

  Thank you for reading

  The Wayfarer’s Daughter!

  I hope you enjoyed it. I’m always grateful for reviews. If you’d like to share your thoughts, comments or feedback, you can always reach me by email: jlhayesauthor@gmail.com

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