by Holt, Cheryl
She gestured to Hayden. “Sit.”
“Is it that bad?” Mr. Stone asked.
“It’s not bad precisely,” she apprised them. “I simply can’t have him going off half-cocked.”
“If it’s horrid,” Mr. Stone said, “I doubt we’ll be able to stop him.”
Hayden obliged her for once by plopping down on the sofa. She recalled how exhausted he’d been the prior night. He was likely still incredibly fatigued. Mr. Stone hovered behind him, a stern sentinel to protect him from any harm she might try to inflict.
“Is one of your sisters named Abigail?” she inquired.
“Yes. Why?”
“You asked Jasper about your sisters, and he claimed he had no information, but he was lying.”
“Of course he was.”
“I want to show you something, but you have to promise you’ll remain calm.”
“I won’t promise that, so what is it?”
“I was cleaning Jasper’s desk the other day, and I found a wedding invitation. There was a letter with it too.”
“Why would I care about that?”
“It’s from Abigail Henley.” She paused, her announcement sinking in. “She’s marrying in September, and she was hoping Jasper would walk her down the aisle.”
“You think it’s my sister?”
“The bride is Abigail Henley. Do you have a cousin or niece named Abigail?”
“Not that I know of.”
“So it’s probably her.”
“Abigail is getting married. I can’t believe it.” He stared at the floor, then he murmured, “She’s twenty-five this year. I suppose it’s high time.” He extended his hand. “Let me see the invitation.”
She dawdled forever. She was about to set in motion a hazardous situation that—once started—couldn’t be altered or halted. She couldn’t guess where it would end, but she was so afraid it wouldn’t be in a good place.
“Swear to me—after I show it to you—you’ll stay where you are and discuss it with Mr. Stone and myself. If you can’t, we’ll discuss it after the incident with Jasper has faded. I realize you’re distraught over his visit and—”
“Helen!” He cut her off. “Give me the blasted invitation.”
“All right, all right.”
She might have been out of her body, watching some other idiotic woman trudge over and present it to him. She stepped away, not eager to be in close proximity when he discovered the identity of the groom.
He read the words over and over and over again. After a lengthy interval, he muttered, “Oh, my sweet Lord.”
He lifted it over his shoulder, and Mr. Stone snatched it away. He read it too, and he gasped.
“Your sister is marrying Alexander Wallace?”
“It appears she is.”
“Are you positive it’s the same man? There must be thousands of Wallaces in the kingdom.”
“It’s Alexander Wallace of Wallace Downs,” Hayden pointed out.
“So it is,” Mr. Stone said. “When we travelled through his village that day, there was gossip about it in the tavern. There were streamers and flowers on his fence posts. Remember?”
“Yes, I bloody well remember.”
“I told you to kill him while we were there,” Mr. Stone said. “You should have listened to me.”
“Yes, I should have,” Hayden agreed.
“Shall we slay him now?” Mr. Stone asked. “We can ride back. It’s not too late.”
“Absolutely not!” Helen jumped to insist. “You’re not slaying him.”
Mr. Stone scoffed. “I’m sorry, Miss Barnes, but it’s not up to you. Alex Wallace has deserved killing for a decade or more.”
“No one deserves to be killed, Mr. Stone.”
“How little you know of the world, Miss Barnes.” He turned to Hayden. “Let’s go, Hayden. We can saddle the horses and put in a ton of miles before dark. We can be there at dawn and murder him when he least expects it.”
“Mr. Stone!” Helen barked. “I had you join us so you could be the rational voice during this discussion.”
“That was your first mistake,” Mr. Stone snidely retorted.
“Hayden! Ignore Mr. Stone!” Helen leaned down so they were nose to nose. “I want you to ponder this dilemma and…ah…perhaps speak with my father about your options.”
“Your father?”
“He’s a minister, Hayden. He always has been, and he’s very insightful, very steady in a crisis. He might have some pertinent comments about anger and forgiveness and how you should proceed.”
“I’ve already decided how to proceed.”
She snuggled herself onto his lap. A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, and she pushed it away. “I’m asking you to think about this overnight. I’m begging you to think about it overnight. Please?”
He assessed her, and the sweetest sense of connection passed between them. Then he chuckled, but with exasperation.
“When you gaze at me with those big green eyes of yours, I can’t refuse you.”
“Just for tonight. We’ll talk, and we’ll debate, and we’ll come up with a plan.”
“You and your talking.” He glanced up at Mr. Stone. “We can leave at dawn, and we’ll ride like the wind. I can murder him in the afternoon as easily as I can in the morning.”
He grabbed her waist, set her aside, and marched out of the room.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Hello, Henley. Or should I call you Middlebury now?”
Simon smiled at Hayden Henley, but he didn’t smile back.
The man was positively taciturn, and he grunted a reply that might have meant anything. Simon decided to disregard his dour mood and use his Christian name. In a convoluted way, they were almost family. Why be strangers?
By all accounts, it had been a trying day for him. He’d pummeled his worthless cousin. He’d discovered his sister was marrying his greatest enemy. He was probably entitled to be a grouch.
Simon was seated at a patio table on the verandah at the rear of the house. When Henley had strutted outside, he hadn’t realized Simon was present and enjoying the view.
Evening had arrived, and the sky was a beautiful shade of purple, the trees in the park especially green. Henley was leaned against the balustrade, staring out at the park too and ignoring Simon when he didn’t feel like being ignored.
“Would you care to join me?” he asked. “I’ve pilfered a bottle of your best brandy, and I have an extra glass.”
Henley glared at Simon as if Simon were a buzzing gnat, then he trudged over and sat down. Simon pulled the stopper from the decanter and poured some brandy for Henley, then he refilled his own glass. For a few minutes, they dawdled, not chatting, not acknowledging one another.
“Helen thought I should talk to you,” Simon said after a bit, figuring he wouldn’t have many chances to pester the man on any topic.
“She would think that.” Henley snorted with disgust. “All she does is talk. Are you the same?”
“Oh, yes, I’m definitely a talker. I wouldn’t have been much of a preacher if I hadn’t been.”
“From what I hear, you’re not much of a preacher.”
Simon shrugged. “I have my good days and my bad. Like anyone. As far as I’m aware, I’ve never had complaints about my ministerial skills. It’s my personal failings that get me into trouble.”
“Are you planning to tarry in my home forever? How much brandy should I stock?”
“I’ll stay for as long as you’ll let me, which I hope will be quite awhile. I’m a very pleasant fellow, and you’re particularly fond of my daughter. I can’t leave when she’s in residence. I’m not sure she’d be safe alone with you.”
“Are you about to demand a wedding?”
“No,” Simon scoffed, “but I believe you should mind your manners around her. Or in your time away, have you forgotten the importance of manners? Have you become a complete cad?”
Henley downed his liquor, then held out his glass for Simon to replenish it. He gulped that down too.
Simon couldn’t help remarking, “You seem distressed, Hayden. Would you like to discuss what’s vexing you?”
Henley scowled ferociously. “Be silent, Vicar Barnes. Don’t annoy me. I’d like to wallow in the peace and quiet.”
“It must have been difficult seeing your cousin Jasper.”
“You have no idea.”
“I can’t imagine what it must have been like to return to this mess. Jasper and Desdemona were such ungrateful sluggards, and the whole place is in such an embarrassing state of disrepair. While you were away, you must have had such pretty pictures in your head of how it previously was. It can’t have been easy to witness its true condition.”
“Vicar Barnes! Shut up!”
“All right, I will. As you said, we should enjoy the peace and quiet. And it’s Pastor Barnes. I’ve been ordered not to refer to myself as a vicar.”
“Are you bothered by the edict?”
“Yes. Wouldn’t it bother you? I devoted my life to the church, and then my position was yanked away. It was hard to accept.”
“A man is supposed to pay for his sins though. Isn’t this how you’re paying for yours? You’re defrocked and disgraced, because you’re an unrepentant philanderer. What did you expect would occur?”
Simon tsked with irritation. “You don’t have to rub it in.”
“Do you ever wish you hadn’t misbehaved?”
“Well, I hate how my problems have impacted my daughters, but I always adored the women I was counseling. They were unhappy with their lives and marriages. I tried my best to help them muddle through.”
“Is that what they call a hearty tumble these days? Counseling?”
“Don’t be snotty, Hayden. It doesn’t become you.”
“What happened on Tenerife? Why weren’t you there to meet your daughters?”
“Oh, that.” He waved a dismissive hand, loathe to dive in to the details, but Henley wasn’t the sort to be put off. “Shortly after I debarked, I ran into an acquaintance from England who was cognizant of my history. He had a quick parley with the local constabulary.”
“You were kicked out?”
“Basically, yes. I wrote to Helen immediately and told her not to come, but I guess she didn’t receive my letter.”
“It’s lucky I stumbled on her then.”
“Yes, very lucky. I’m incredibly grateful for all your assistance.”
Simon was British in every sense of the word. He had the highest respect for members of the peerage, and he understood how a connection to a great man could bring many boons.
Becky had explained how smitten Henley was with Helen, and Simon wouldn’t discount such a fortunate circumstance. He intended to nurture it for all he was worth.
“What’s your plan for your daughters, Pastor Barnes?” Henley asked. “Have you one?”
“We’ll remain here. Becky and I will aid Helen as she takes care of you. She’s been a terrific housekeeper, don’t you agree?”
“She’s been all right.”
Helen was currently working for Henley, but Simon had seen the besotted idiot kissing her in the library. If Henley continued to fan the flames of their attraction, there would be a swift wedding in his future. He merely had to realize how much he loved Helen and that she would be the perfect wife for him.
While Simon was typically British and believed in the old adage that like bonded with like, that a peer would select a bride from his own social class, he was also the world’s biggest romantic. Helen should stand by Henley’s side to deliver her kind and devoted brand of patience.
Simon had been a blessed beneficiary of her fortitude and serenity, and with Henley rampaging and being so out of control, Helen would provide exactly what he required.
Simon wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Helen.
“If you’re weary of us already, she and I can leave.” Simon lied, “We have plenty of relatives who would give us shelter.”
“Helen isn’t leaving. I need her here.”
“Of course you do, and we’re glad to stay.”
“Just so you don’t instigate any mischief.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I’m serious, Pastor Barnes. If you so much as glance at a neighbor lady, I’ll have you tarred and feathered and dragged out of town behind a horse.”
“My goodness, Hayden. It’s obvious you’ve heard horrendous stories about me, but I’m not the cad you deem me to be.”
“Sure you’re not.”
“You’re a tad angry this evening,” he cautiously stated.
“You are a master of perception.”
“Helen tells me you’re riding off in the morning to commit murder.”
“Maybe Helen should mind her own business.”
“You must hate Alexander Wallace to the marrow of your bones. I would if I were you.”
“Shut up, Pastor Barnes! You’re not my confessor, and I won’t discuss this with you.”
“I can be as silent as the next man.” He sipped his drink, watching Henley out of the corner of his eye. He was so troubled! Nonchalantly, Simon mused, “I’m certain you aren’t aware of it, but I’m acquainted with the Wallace family.”
“Bully for you, but I thought you said you knew how to be silent.”
“I followed the whole deplorable situation after the duel. It was so riveting.”
Henley flashed a scathing glare. “Is there some reason you suppose I would be interested?”
“It’s just that Helen mentioned you didn’t feel Mr. Wallace had suffered any punishment, that all of it had fallen on you.”
“Again, Pastor, maybe Helen should mind her own business.”
“Mr. Wallace actually suffered quite a lot of punishment.”
“Really?” Henley snidely inquired.
“Yes, really. He was prosecuted, then jailed for a year. After he was released, he was banished from England for five years.”
“Banished to where?”
“I’m not positive of the terms, but he had to flee the country, and the exile distressed him very much. He wandered through Africa and the Orient. He divorced that tart, Eugenia, who was his wife, so he’s had to live with that stigma. Because of it, he’s been shunned by decent people ever since. Oh, and he had to pay a huge fine that nearly cost him Wallace Downs. His lawyer negotiated over the amount and was barely able to save it from the auction block.”
Henley froze for an eternity, then his shoulders drooped. “I didn’t know any of that.”
“You had your own problems at the time, and with you on your way to Italy—and at death’s door—I wouldn’t expect you to have been apprised. He might not be the ogre you recall. Weren’t you all very young when it occurred?”
“Too young,” Henley muttered.
“If you kill him, what would your sister’s opinion be? She hasn’t seen you in a decade. Is your first act upon your return to be the murder of her fiancé?”
“My sister is very smart. If she’s about to wed him, she’s either ignorant of his history with regard to me or he’s put her under a wicked spell.”
“She’s a bewitched princess?”
“Something like that.”
“What if she’s happy? What if she’s in love with him?”
“It doesn’t matter. She can’t marry him. I’m back and I’m head of the family now. I won’t permit it.”
“You won’t.”
“No.”
“You think you can barge in and order her about?”
“Yes, I absolutely think that.”
“You don’t believe she should have a say?”
“Not if her choice is that bastard.” At spewing the crude epithet, Henley’s cheeks flushed. “Beggin’ your pardon, Pastor Barnes.”
“I’ve heard worse.”
“We’re
done talking about this,” Henley firmly stated.
“Before we’re completely through, might I offer a word of advice from an older, wiser man?”
“No, you may not, and as to older, what are you? Ten years older than me? Fifteen? There’s not much of an age difference that would make you an elder I should heed. As to wiser, don’t make me laugh. A sinner with your dubious past shouldn’t preach.”
“Who’s preaching? I simply point out that you can’t boss a woman. Men constantly attempt it, but it never works. If you wish for your sister to relent over Mr. Wallace, you’ll have to persuade her. Not command her.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” Henley sarcastically replied.
“Why don’t you travel to Wallace Downs tomorrow—but not to create havoc?”
Henley scoffed with derision. “How should I—in your infinite wisdom—arrive then?”
“How about in a quiet, unexceptional manner? Don’t bluster in. Sneak in and investigate the situation. Snoop in the neighborhood. Drink an ale or two in the local tavern. Ask some questions. Find out why your sister is there. Find out why she picked him. Then reflect on what it is you really want. It’s been a whole decade since the duel, and you’re not the hot-headed boy you were back then.”
“I’m definitely not,” Henley concurred.
“Are you still as furious with Mr. Wallace as you assume yourself to be? If you killed him, if you hurt your sister so deeply, would you feel any better? Would it change the past? Would it fix what’s wrong? Would you be any less angry at the world than you are right now?”
“I’m not angry at the world,” Henley claimed.
“Aren’t you?”
Henley’s hand was wrapped around his glass, and Simon glanced at his knuckles that were cut and swollen from his punching Jasper so hard. Henley saw him looking, and he put the glass down and spread out his fingers to study them. He chuckled with grim amusement.
“You’re a fascinating man, Pastor Barnes,” he said.
“Everyone has always thought so.”
“I don’t imply you’re fascinating in a good way, and as with your daughter, perhaps you should mind your own business.”
He downed his remaining brandy, then he pushed back his chair and stood. He marched down the verandah stairs into the overgrown, weedy park that no gardener had tended in ages.
