Forever After (The Forever Series #3)

by Cheryl Holt

  Yet they’d barely started in when, from over on the verandah Catherine sternly called, “Mr. Swift!”

  It was like a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. They leapt apart and spun to gape up at her. She looked furious and aggrieved, and she pointed an accusing finger at him.

  “Mr. Swift, you are kissing my sister.”

  “I am—and hello to you too, Miss Barrington. Or is it Miss Henley?”

  “It’s Mrs. Stanton to you,” Catherine snidely snapped. “Now leave her alone and haul yourself into the house. You and I need to have a private conversation.”

  “It won’t alter what I mean to do,” he merrily retorted.

  “We’ll see about that,” Catherine countered.

  Sarah clasped his arm, and they walked toward the stairs when Catherine said, “Sarah, you’re not invited to participate in this discussion.”

  “Don’t be silly, Catherine. Of course I’ll participate.”

  “It’s obvious to me that he’s placed you under some sort of wicked spell.”

  Nicholas peeked down at Sarah and whispered, “Have I bewitched you?”

  “Yes, you cad,” she whispered too.

  “You can wait here,” he said.

  “No, I’m coming with you.”

  “Your sister and I have a few details to hash out. You probably shouldn’t hear what they are.”

  “What if she talks you out of marrying me? What if she convinces you to change your mind?”

  “Give me some credit,” he scoffed. “How could anyone change my mind about how much I love you? Besides, you know I never listen to women.”

  “True.”

  “So there’s nothing she could say that would affect me in the slightest.” He stole another kiss. “Let me get this out of the way.”

  “Mr. Swift!” Catherine scolded. “Please keep your lips to yourself!”

  Nicholas winked at Sarah. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  He strolled off, and Sarah watched him go. He was so sure of himself, so agile and lithe, so comfortable in his body and person. She suffered such a rush of gladness that she could hardly stand it.

  With a furtive wave, he disappeared into the manor with Catherine, and Sarah lingered in the grass like a fool, like a deaf mute who had no connection to what was about to occur.

  What if Catherine declined to grant her permission for them to wed? Her permission wasn’t required, but Sarah would definitely hope to receive her blessing. What if she withheld it?

  What if Catherine and Abigail cornered him together? What if Christopher and Alex joined in? Alex in particular was dangerous and stubborn. If he declared Nicholas couldn’t wed Sarah and become a member of the family, how could she and Nicholas proceed?

  She was incensed and didn’t want a big ruckus. It would get all of them off on the wrong foot, and they might never be able to get back on the right foot.

  It was her future, and she could decide for herself how it would unfold, and she wouldn’t allow her sisters to wreck it for her. She wasn’t about to be locked out of the most important conversation of her life.

  She stomped to the verandah and was approaching the stairs when movement off to her left caught her attention. She glanced over, stunned to find Clayton Farnsworth had emerged from behind a bush where, evidently, he’d been hiding. Was he following Mildred? Was he spying on her?

  He didn’t look well. His skin was blotchy, his eyes unfocused and very bright. His clothes were askew, his hair not combed.

  “Mr. Farnsworth?” she said as he neared. “Why are you at Wallace Downs?”

  “Hello, Miss Henley,” he replied.

  He pulled his hand from his coat, and she was alarmed to see he was clutching a small pistol. It was aimed directly at her.

  “Mr. Farnsworth!” she repeated more sharply. “Have you gone mad?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Henley, but I’m afraid you have to come with me.”

  “I won’t. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “My most sincere apologies, but refusal is not an option.”

  Quick as a snake, he grabbed her wrist and slipped a rope around it. He had it knotted with a fancy type of noose, and he yanked it tight before she could lurch away. The other end was tied to his own wrist.

  He started off across the garden, headed to the woods on the other side, and though she fought and struggled to halt their progress, she couldn’t slow him down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Explain yourself!”

  “I’d be glad to,” Nicholas responded. “Where would you like me to start?”

  Catherine Henley Stanton was a veritable bundle of umbrage, her offense oozing out.

  “Where you should start?” she fumed. “How about with Libby Markham? Would that be a good spot?”

  “Ah…Libby,” he mused. “So young, so misguided, so loose with her favors.”

  “She was loose? Is that your excuse? It was none of your doing?”

  “Not much. No. She fancied me beyond all reason, and I’m not a man who’s inclined to refuse what a woman freely offers.”

  “I don’t suppose you might have taken advantage of her loneliness or naïveté.”

  “I definitely took advantage of her. I don’t deny it, but she wasn’t exactly a saint. Will that be all?”

  “No, that won’t be all!”

  They were standing in a room at the rear of the house, and they hadn’t bothered to sit down. Catherine was too livid to sit, and she was pacing, scolding him. He could peer out the window, but from his vantage point he couldn’t see Sarah.

  He was surprised she’d stayed outside merely because her sister had ordered her to. He kept expecting her to stomp in and be spitting mad over how she’d been shut out of the meeting.

  The door opened behind him, and Catherine’s husband, Christopher, strolled in. They’d been acquainted for years, and Nicholas had often socialized with him in London where they’d spent most of their time chasing the ladies.

  “Hello, Stanton,” Nicholas said.

  “Swift.”

  “Actually, it’s Nicholas Stone now. I’m adopting my father’s surname.”

  “I heard you had some excitement in your personal situation. Stone was your father’s name?”

  “Yes, Robert Stone.”

  “And you’ve inherited some money?”

  “Maybe in the future.”

  “Good for you.”

  If Christopher had a derogatory opinion about Nicholas’s connection to Mildred or Sarah, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he turned to his wife. “The twins came to fetch me. They claimed you were fighting with someone.”

  “We’re not fighting,” Catherine insisted. “I found out he’d arrived, and he was out in the garden with Sarah. He was kissing her! I made him stop.”

  “All right.” Christopher voiced the words slowly as if he didn’t quite understand what the uproar was about. He spun to Nicholas. “Catherine is in an agitated state, and I don’t like her to be distraught. What are your intentions, Nicholas?”

  “I can’t believe you married a Henley sister,” was Nicholas’s reply. “I didn’t realize you were serious about her.”

  “She sort of snuck up on me.”

  “Christopher!” his wife snapped.

  “What happened with your cousin, Priscilla?” Nicholas asked. “When I left London, I could have sworn you were engaged to her.”

  Christopher flashed a visual warning for Nicholas to drop the subject, then he explained, “Catherine and I simply couldn’t bear to be apart, and we wed like a pair of reckless adolescents. We couldn’t wait.”

  “Christopher!” his wife snapped again. “Don’t gossip about me with him.”

  Christopher tamped down a grin, and Nicholas said to him, “You’ll have to tell me about it over a whiskey. Since you ended up with her as your bride, it must be a fascinating story.”

  Catherine clapped her hands to get their attent
ion. “Speaking of your leaving London, Mr. Swift”—Nicholas didn’t correct her on the surname—“why are you sniffing around my sister?”

  “I’ve proposed, and she’s accepted.”

  “A marriage will occur over my dead body!”

  Nicholas and Christopher exchanged an exasperated look.

  Women!

  “I’m not requesting your permission,” Nicholas told her, “but we’d like to receive your blessing.”

  “My…blessing!” Catherine was so enraged it was almost amusing.

  “Catherine, calm yourself,” Christopher said, then to Nicholas, “She’s still a bit upset about Libby.”

  “I’m not a bit upset, Christopher,” she retorted, “and don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.”

  They jumped into a petty quarrel about London and Nicholas’s flirtations there and how he was the very last man they’d pick to wed Sarah. He ignored them and stared out the window, trying to calculate how long she’d tarry before she burst in with a thousand complaints over her sister’s bossy manner.

  The door opened again, and Mildred entered the room.

  “Hello,” she said. “I am Mildred Farnsworth. Sarah worked for me this summer.”

  “Hello,” Christopher and Catherine responded in unison.

  “As Nicholas’s mother, I should be allowed to participate in this discussion.”

  He was always startled when she announced their relationship, and he supposed he always would be. It was lovely to suddenly have a mother, but very daunting too. He hoped he was always worthy of her.

  “Mother”—the moniker rolled off his tongue more easily every day—“this is Sarah’s twin sister, Catherine, and her husband, Christopher Wakefield-Stanton. He and I went to school together as boys, and we used to gambol in town.”

  Her appearance had flummoxed Catherine. She was perfectly willing to chastise Nicholas, but she wouldn’t do it in front of Mildred. She was too polite.

  “I’m sorry we weren’t introduced earlier, Miss Farnsworth,” Catherine said, “but you were napping.”

  “It’s all right.” She studied Catherine, then she glanced at Nicholas and smirked. “I can’t see a lick of difference between them. Can you?”

  “There are plenty of differences.”

  “Be careful they don’t play tricks on you as to their identity. Twins constantly revel in that sort of mischief. You wouldn’t want to accidently kiss the wrong sister. I doubt her husband would like it.”

  “Mildred!” Nicholas scolded. “Behave yourself.”

  She turned to Catherine. “Mary and Millie told me you were fighting.”

  Catherine threw up her hands. “We’re not fighting.” Then she shouted over to the door. “And if those two girls don’t mind their own business, they’ll be in big trouble when I’m finished here.”

  They heard giggles and footsteps hastening away down the hall.

  “Where is Sarah?” Mildred asked. “Why isn’t she present?”

  “She’s out in the garden waiting for me,” Nicholas said. “Mrs. Stanton thought she should speak to me alone.”

  “Why?”

  “She doesn’t think I’m much of a catch. She’s been telling me all the reasons I can’t possibly wed Sarah.”

  Catherine blushed with embarrassment. “I’ve learned too much about him, Miss Farnsworth, and all of it is bad.”

  Mildred peered over at Christopher. “You’ve been acquainted with Nicholas since he was a boy. What’s your opinion of him?”

  “Well, he’s…ah…I won’t claim he’s a fine fellow. He can be wild and uninhibited, and he definitely likes the ladies. If I had a sister and she was sweet on him, I’d probably lock her in a convent.”

  “Yes, yes”—Mildred was testy, as if the description was of no account—“he’s a libertine. Is that your only worry? You’ve known him for what? Twenty years? Twenty-five?”

  “Thereabouts.”

  Mildred scoffed. “I don’t consider licentious tendencies to be a negative trait in a man who’s about to take a wife. At least he’ll have some skills in the bedchamber.”

  Catherine bit down a squeal of horror as Christopher said, “She’ll never be bored with him. I can guarantee it.”

  “Christopher, will you stay out of this?” Catherine admonished. “I have to rescue my sister from certain catastrophe.”

  Mildred kept on. “He’s rich now so he won’t need to gamble anymore.”

  Nicholas chuckled. “Unless I feel like it.”

  “He’s moved into my home with me outside London so Sarah will be safe and cared for. Even if he decides to let his immoral inclinations drag him away from us—”

  “Mildred!” he scolded again. “I would never treat you like that.”

  “I didn’t say you would, Nicholas. I said if you do, Sarah will have a place with me. If you ever act like an idiot, we’ll toss your clothes out on the road, change the locks, and carry on without you.”

  Catherine and Christopher had just met Mildred so they weren’t aware of how flip and caustic she could be. They were both a tad alarmed by her comment.

  “It doesn’t matter how I behave,” Nicholas insisted.

  “Yes, it does!” Catherine insisted back.

  “Or how you view me,” he went on. “I have to marry her.”

  There was a stunned pause, then an appalled Catherine asked, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Yes,” Nicholas replied. “She’s completely ruined.”

  Mildred grinned. “You scamp! I thought I chased you away before you had the chance.”

  “I snuck back in when you weren’t watching,” he told her. “I wasn’t about to let her get away from me. I had to bind her in the only way I could, and I was afraid if she pondered me at all she’d come to her senses and I’d lose her.”

  “She’s ruined…” Catherine muttered, and she staggered over to a sofa and plopped down.

  Christopher gazed at her. “I guess we’re having another wedding—whether you like it or not.”

  “I don’t like it,” she churlishly mumbled.

  Mildred chipped in with, “Don’t despair, Mrs. Stanton. Nicholas will grow on you.”

  “Are we done?” Nicholas asked, and he wandered over to the window so he could look for Sarah.

  “Yes, we’re done,” Mildred said. “Go to your fiancée, and I’ll work out all the details. I demand a huge wedding so I can have the fun of planning it.”

  Nicholas smiled over at her. “You’re a romantic at heart. I always—”

  But before he could finish his sentence, a commotion out in the garden caught his eye. For a moment, he was puzzled by the sight he was witnessing. It appeared as if Sarah was being led into the woods by a man who was holding her wrist, but she was supposed to be at the bottom of the verandah stairs. She was supposed to be fussing and stewing and about to march in and deliver a good dressing-down.

  He narrowed his focus, then gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” Mildred asked.

  He glanced at her. “Clayton is here!”

  “Oh, no!”

  “And he’s making off with Sarah. My bloody sake, but the stupid oaf is insane!” He scowled at Catherine and said, “Would you excuse me? I have to kill someone. I’ll be right back.”

  He whipped away and hurried outside.

  * * * *

  Clayton stomped along, Miss Henley’s wrist bound to his own. She kept trying to slow him down, but he wasn’t about to be foiled.

  He’d been plotting for weeks, for all of eternity it seemed. His entire life, he’d been Mildred’s heir. His father had filled his head with stories about the injustice of Mildred having half of the family’s money. She’d never understood the unfairness of her windfall and had insisted she’d been entitled to it, but it was Clayton’s fortune! It wasn’t hers to give away. It was his!

  His father had dithered, waiting for her to die s
o he could get it back. Clayton had dithered too, but Nicholas Swift’s arrival had been the catalyst for action. He’d finally moved against his aunt to retrieve what was his, but he’d been thwarted at every turn. He was growing frantic.

  He had an obscenely large gambling debt that was coming due, and if he didn’t pay it he’d lose his property. He’d signed it over as security on the promissory note, and even with the settlement Mildred had forked over, he didn’t have enough. With his not being able to shift Mildred’s bank accounts into his own name, foreclosure was approaching.

  Nicholas Swift had caused Clayton’s problems, and Nicholas Swift would be the remedy.

  Clayton had to ingratiate himself to Mildred again, had to wedge himself back into the line of inheritance, but Swift had to vanish first. If he was out of the way, Mildred would forget about him. Clayton was convinced of it. He’d been spying on her for days, figuring out the best method to dispose of Swift, and what better bait to use than Sarah Henley?

  Lady Middlebury had pointed out Swift’s infatuation, but Clayton hadn’t necessarily believed it. Yet he’d followed Swift to the Wallace estate, not certain what to expect. As he’d observed Swift kissing Miss Henley, he’d realized Lady Middlebury had been correct. Swift was desperately in love with Miss Henley and would likely do anything to be sure she was safe.

  She was the perfect ruse to get him off by himself where any terrible accident could ensue.

  “Mr. Farnsworth!” Miss Henley complained. “You’re walking too fast.”

  “We can’t lag, Miss Henley. If you can’t keep up, I’ll have to carry you.”

  “Where are we going? What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking I’ve kidnapped you, and it was incredibly easy too.”

  “But…but…kidnapping, Mr. Farnsworth? To what end?”

  She was yanking on their wrists where the knot he’d tied grew tighter and tighter. She hadn’t grasped that her fetter was merely becoming more effective.

  They were at the edge of the garden, and he dragged her into the trees. She gazed at the manor as if hoping someone was watching, but the forest quickly swallowed them, and they disappeared from view.