by Holt, Cheryl
Simon grinned. “Have you been fretting over it?”
“I probably shouldn’t have, but I can’t help it. I’m convinced he’s a typically obtuse male who doesn’t realize how much he cares about me.”
“That may be true,” he cautiously said.
“If his affection is pointed out to him, it might make a difference.”
“Would you want him as a husband, Helen? In light of his ordeal, he’ll have many problems in his life. Problems with his temper, problems with his comportment. His wife will have to assume many burdens.”
“I know.”
“There are two daughters tossed into the mix too, and it will only add to the difficulties. What kind of upbringing have they had? What kind of children are they? His bride will become their stepmother and will have charge of them. However much Hayden insists he’d like them to be here, his wife will wind up as their parent.”
“I know that too. I could aid him and his daughters. I’m sure of it, and it would actually be very exciting.”
For a moment, her mask slipped, and he glimpsed how fervidly she was pining away. The discovery left him very sad. He didn’t suppose any amount of nudging Hayden would sway him to seriously consider Helen.
Simon had repeatedly attempted to slyly raise the subject with him, but had been curtly rebuffed and no discussion held.
Hayden was focused on many topics, none of which involved his abrupt marriage to a girl he’d met while traveling. Theirs was like a shipboard romance, a passing fling shared by strangers who were caught up in odd circumstances.
Simon would pray for a miracle, but the possibility of one transpiring was fading fast.
A disturbing notion occurred to him, and he asked, “You haven’t been…misbehaving with him, have you?”
“No!” she hastily said.
“He hasn’t been pressuring you into acts you’re not comfortable committing?”
“No, Simon. It’s simply that I’m so attached to him, and I can’t imagine our ever parting. You could spur him to recognize that he can’t imagine our parting either.”
“I can try, Helen. I want you to be happy.”
“You’re so good at talking. If you start in on him, he won’t stand a chance.”
If only that were true…
“No, he won’t.”
She stood. “I have to get back to the kitchen. Some of the prior Henley retainers are stopping by to inquire about their old positions. All of a sudden, I’m having to interview people. It’s hectic.”
“I’ll see you at supper, and if you hear any word from Mr. Wallace, notify me at once.”
“I will.”
She flitted into the house, to her chores and her interviews. He sighed and sipped his brandy, wondering how it would all end.
He should have jumped up and located Hayden. He should have had a frank chat about his intentions. But he was positive—if he dared mention a connection again—he’d be laughed out of the room or maybe even kicked out of the manor for pestering the busy, exalted man.
Simon wasn’t a glutton for punishment and would rock no boats. That sort of candid conversation could wait. Probably forever.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hayden had been riding for most of the day, touring his land and assessing the decrepit situation. Most of the tenant farmers had left, and their houses were falling into disrepair. The fields were fallow, the orchards not producing any fruit, the herds decimated and practically nonexistent.
One good piece of news was that Jasper wasn’t a hunter, so the woods were full of deer and other animals. They wouldn’t starve over the winter, but still, it was shocking how much damage an incompetent manager could inflict in a short decade.
The swath of Jasper’s destruction was infuriating, and it would be a monumental task to repair all that was broken. But…he didn’t have anything else to do.
It was his property, his estate, his home. He would make it perfect again.
Simon was to have headed out earlier that morning for Wallace Downs. Perhaps—that very moment—he was with Abigail. Hayden had told Simon to bring her back with him, his daughters too, so hopefully, his sister was about to arrive. She’d know where Catherine and Sarah were living, and soon, they would all be together.
He trotted into the yard and dismounted, tossing his reins to Tom Stone. Robert’s sons were hard workers, and they were quickly getting the stables in a suitable condition.
“Where is your father?” he asked.
“He’s over in the manor. Miss Barnes is expecting an important visitor, and she had to tell him about it.”
“Why would she want that? Is it someone from his past?”
“I don’t think so. She was just anxious to inform him.”
“I’ll see what’s happening. Maybe I can handle it for her.”
Hayden stomped off, having to tamp down a ripple of irritation.
If Helen needed assistance, she should talk to Hayden. Not Robert. He was incredibly irked, and his reaction was all out of proportion to what had occurred. Was he jealous of Robert? No. He was simply very possessive of her and couldn’t bear to share her with any man—not even Robert.
He’d stupidly and recklessly immersed himself in her life in ways he’d never intended, and she was a complication he hadn’t sought or anticipated. He was more attracted to her than he should be, and it had led him straight into her bedchamber, which was the one place in the world where he shouldn’t have been.
He’d fornicated with her! He couldn’t believe he’d behaved so negligently, and he was still trying to understand his conduct. He’d been so distressed over finding out about his daughters, and Helen was like a haven, a refuge, where he could hide out and be safe. When he was around her, he felt better and less alone, but it didn’t explain why he’d proceeded to disaster.
She wasn’t a doxy, so she’d assume she would receive the appropriate ending. She was probably already planning their wedding, but he wouldn’t marry her. It would never transpire. Despite how horridly he’d acted, despite how exciting the notion sounded, he wouldn’t.
He had to arrange for her, her father, and sister to leave Middlebury. He was certain—if he wasn’t with her so often—his affection would wane, but he couldn’t take the necessary steps to implement her departure. The prospect was terribly upsetting, but each passing minute—where she was present and underfoot—became more untenable.
What should be done with her? He couldn’t abandon her to her own devices. He was drawn to her like a magnet to metal, and in light of their history, it seemed as if the Barnes family was kin he’d adopted, and there was no viable method to be rid of them.
He was so distracted by his thoughts of her that—at first—when a female called to him, he didn’t pay attention.
“Hayden!”
The summons came from some distance away, and he was walking to the rear door of the manor. He kept on, barely noticing. He was in an isolated spot between the house and the barns, and so far, he’d only hired a few servants. Who could be lurking?
When he was hailed again, he halted and whirled around.
“Hayden Henley!”
A woman strolled out from the corner of a shed. She was short and plump, forty or so. Though it was a warm summer day, she was swaddled in a heavy black cloak and hat, the veil pulled down to obscure her features.
“Yes, I’m Hayden Henley. May I help you?”
She marched over, bold as brass, halting when she was about ten feet away.
“Do you know who I am?” she demanded.
“No.”
“I don’t look familiar?”
“No, sorry.”
She scoffed. “It’s typical that you wouldn’t recognize me. You always were a pompous ass. Nevertheless, I definitely recognize you.”
“How nice,” he mumbled.
“I was sure you had to be an imposter, but it appears you’ve risen from the dead.”
“I gue
ss you could describe it that way.” He wondered if the woman wasn’t a tad deranged, and he wasn’t about to argue with her in his own garden. “What is it you need, ma’am?”
“I am Desdemona Henley.”
“Oh. Now that you mention it, yes, I see that you are. The veil on your hat is concealing your face.”
“I am Jasper’s wife. I am Lord Middlebury’s wife.”
“Well, you were for ten years, but as I explained to him, you’re not any longer.”
“Jasper was content to meekly allow you to steal what is ours. I, however, don’t intend to be quite so obliging.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll have my lawyer contact you.”
“I am Desdemona Henley.” She repeated her name as if he hadn’t been listening. “I am Lady Middlebury. I want you to remember that. I want it to be the last words you ever hear.”
Before he realized her purpose, her hand slid from under her cloak, and he was stunned to discover that she was clutching a pistol. With no hesitation or warning, she fired it! Just like that! If she’d been any closer, the dastardly shrew might have killed him. As it was, she’d managed to inflict a bit of damage. His arm was bleeding, and she’d ruined a perfectly good shirt.
The force of the blast had sent her staggering back. Her bonnet flew sideways, and she was off balance. She’d used her one shot, and she was fumbling about, probably to retrieve a second pistol to finish the job.
He was so enraged that he was amazed he didn’t murder her. He was carrying all his usual weapons and could have easily slain her, but he didn’t.
In three quick strides, he narrowed the distance between them. She was spinning toward him again, the barrel of another gun visible. He grabbed her wrist and yanked it away, tossing it off into the grass.
At being prevented in her attack, she was livid, and she grappled like a demon, clawing with her nails and wrestling to escape. She was a big woman who was spurred by wrath, and when she butted his chin with her forehead, he’d had enough.
He punched her hard, knocking her to her knees, but she came up fighting, so he punched her again, and she fell to the ground and stayed there. He dropped onto her, his weight pressing her down. She was out of control, as manic as a lunatic in an asylum. She was kicking her feet, bucking her hips, cursing him and his descendants for all eternity.
“Desdemona, stop it!” he commanded.
“I’ll kill you, I swear!”
“You won’t kill me. You can’t. Now stop it!”
“Jasper was too much of a coward, but I’m not!”
Will and Tom must have heard the blast, and they raced around the corner of the manor.
“Tom, bring a rope!” he called. “Will, help me.”
Will dashed over, his eyes wide at observing the unhinged harridan writhing and scrapping and Hayden holding her in place.
“Who is she?” he asked Hayden.
“She was Lady Middlebury.”
“Your cousin Jasper’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“She tried to shoot you?”
“Yes, twice.”
Will pointed to Hayden’s injured arm. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s a scratch. Go fetch your father. I think he’s in the house.”
Will hurried off, and Hayden dawdled, waiting for Robert and staring out across the park, pondering how he’d landed himself in such a bizarre predicament. After he’d quarreled with Jasper, he’d scarcely thought about him again. He certainly hadn’t considered Desdemona. He was barely acquainted with her and viewed the situation as being between himself and Jasper.
Clearly, her attitude about it was much different from his.
“If you promise to calm down,” he said, “I’ll let you up.”
She didn’t respond, and he loosened his grip. The instant he did, she started brawling. He sighed with aggravation and pressed her down even more firmly.
“For pity’s sake, Desdemona,” he scolded. “What is wrong with you?”
“I hate you! You can’t take what is ours.”
“I already have, so all this fury is ridiculous.”
“I’ll get even. You assume Jasper is incompetent, and he is. He is! But I’m not. You’ll see how dangerous I can be!”
“Please be silent. You’ve exhausted my patience.”
“Bastard!”
“There’s no need to denigrate my mother. My parents were definitely married.”
“Cur! Dog! Swine!”
Tom rushed up, a rope slung over his shoulder and a kerchief around his neck.
Hayden gestured to the kerchief. “Give me that.”
Tom handed it over, and Hayden stuffed it in her mouth to gag her. She retched and fumed but couldn’t dislodge it.
Finally, Will ran up, Robert hot on his heels.
“What the hell…?” Robert muttered. He scowled at Hayden’s shirt. “Will told me you’d been shot, but I didn’t believe him.”
“It’s a scratch,” Hayden claimed, and it was, but he was incredibly irritated. He’d been distracted over Helen, and his lack of concentration had nearly resulted in catastrophe.
“I can’t leave you alone for two seconds,” Robert chided. He nodded at Desdemona. “Who is that?”
“It’s Desdemona Henley. The prior Countess of Middlebury.”
At his use of the word prior, she began wrestling again, and she was spewing epithets, but with her gagged, they were muted.
“She’s Jasper’s wife?” Robert asked.
“Yes.”
“And she tried to kill you?”
“She tried, but she didn’t succeed.”
“I take it your cousin wasn’t too keen on you coming back from the dead.”
“I don’t know his opinion, but his wife isn’t too enthusiastic about it.”
Robert flashed a stern glower at Hayden. It was a look of ire and reprimand, but of alarm too. They’d both survived too many perilous incidents in their lives, and it would be the ultimate irony if Hayden perished now that he was home.
Hayden grinned and shrugged. He had no excuse for his deficient focus, for his failure to check for hazards. Yet who could have guessed that his cousin’s wife would sneak up with murder in mind?
Robert grabbed a knife from his belt and sliced the rope into a few shorter pieces. They tied Desdemona’s wrists, then stood her on her feet. Hayden yanked her cloak away, and Robert patted his palms across her body, searching for other weapons.
To Hayden’s surprise, they found a third pistol, as well as a dagger tucked into her boot.
“No doubt about it,” Robert said as he pitched the dagger into the grass, “she was serious.”
Hayden pointed to his wound. “I was fairly sure she wasn’t playing games.”
“How far away was she standing?”
“Too far to cause any real damage.”
“Lucky for you.”
They wrapped more of the rope around her so her limbs were bound to her sides. She glared at them, her hatred wafting out, and she was a pathetic sight. Her nose was bleeding, her eyes swelling from when he’d punched her. Her dress was ripped and stained, her face smudged with dirt.
“What shall I do with her?” Robert asked.
“I won’t have her in my house.”
“Shall we haul her before the magistrate? Shall we have her jailed? We can easily convince him she’s dangerous.”
Though Hayden had insisted his wound wasn’t bad—and it truly wasn’t—the whole event had sickened him. He was dizzy and woozy from being shot, and as always after a violent episode, he was excessively fatigued once it was over.
He simply wanted to sit down and have a whiskey. He wanted to pull Helen onto his lap and have her tell him he would be all right. At the moment, with his temper flaring and his exhaustion extreme, he was in no mood to figure out the best ending for a very deranged Desdemona Henley.
“For now,” he said, “take her
to the stables and lock her in a stall. Will, can you watch her for me?”
“With pleasure.” The young man had his own knife on his belt, and he was a brawler. He’d have no trouble with her.
“Tom,” Robert said, “go with your brother. If she grows unruly, come get me, but don’t leave her by herself. One of you must stay with her.”
She was belligerent and unrepentant, and Hayden forced her to look at him as he told her, “Tonight, you’ll sleep in my barn like the animal you are. Then tomorrow, I will personally escort you to your husband.”
She growled a comment that sounded like, Sod off, you prig!
“I will explain to Jasper that I will furnish a monetary settlement to him to allay his fiscal situation.” He leaned down so they were eye to eye, “But I will also explain that if I ever see you again, if you’re ever within ten miles of my location, he won’t receive a farthing from me.”
She hurled a few other invectives behind her gag.
“We’ll learn if your husband can control you,” Hayden warned, “and if you refuse to heed him, if you instigate further mischief, you and your husband can wallow in poverty and live in a ditch. I’d prefer that conclusion.”
He gestured to Will to lead her away, but she planted her feet and wouldn’t budge. She continued to grumble and rant, and Hayden couldn’t abide her presence another minute.
“Robert, help him, would you? Get her out of my sight.”
“Where will you be?” Robert asked.
“I’ll have Helen clean my arm, and she’s probably in the kitchen.”
“I’ll find you. She’s hatched a harebrained scheme, and you should be apprised of the details. I’m positive you’ll put a stop to it.”
“It seems a day for women to act crazy.”
Hayden whipped away, and while he could hear Desdemona stomping and snarling, he didn’t glance back.
He was desperate to be at Helen’s side where she could remove his shirt and wash his wound. Her sweet disposition would flow over him, and he required her brand of solace now more than ever.
He went in the rear of the house, but she wasn’t in the kitchen, so he began searching for her. He was eager to tell her about her demented cousin, but he was also eager for her to feel sorry for him, to make a fuss.
