by Holt, Cheryl
Since he’d joined her in her bed, he’d been ignoring her, but why had he?
He marched through the halls, and as he approached the foyer, she was speaking to someone in the main parlor.
Guests! Dammit!
He couldn’t bear to chat, and he definitely wasn’t in a satisfactory condition. He most especially couldn’t have her distracted with playing hostess to a visitor. He yearned to have her undivided attention focused on him and nowhere else.
“At first, you might be a tad shocked,” she was saying, “but you have to remember that this is important. For everyone in your family—and his.”
* * * *
“Thank you for coming so quickly.”
As Alex Wallace strutted into the front parlor, Helen tried to be amiable.
“Who are you?” he snottily asked.
“I am Helen Barnes. Desdemona Henley is my cousin. I’ve been working as her housekeeper.”
“Where is Lord Middlebury?”
“Ah…outside?”
“Could you fetch him? I received a letter from him, demanding I travel here immediately. I have no idea why I obliged him, and I’d like this meeting to be over with as rapidly as possible.”
“I’ll send someone to look for him. In the meantime, may I offer you a refreshment? You must have had a long ride.”
“I don’t need a refreshment. I need to talk to Middlebury.”
There was a second man with him, and he said, “I’d enjoy a brandy if you have one.”
“Of course.”
Since they had no butler, she poured it for him. When she brought it over, he smiled, appearing cordial and kind. “You didn’t have to wait on me. If I’d known you had to do it yourself, I could have poured my own.”
“It was no bother. We’re short of staff at the moment.”
“There were no servants to tend our horses when we arrived.”
“Yes, we had an…upheaval recently. Many people quit.”
“It must have been quite an upheaval.”
“It was. I’m Helen Barnes.”
“I’m Christopher Stanton.” He glared over at Mr. Wallace. “If Alex had any manners, we’d already have been introduced.”
“Sit, please.”
“I will.” She gestured to a nearby chair, and as he plopped down, he scolded Mr. Wallace. “Sit down too, Alex. If you pace, you’ll wear out the rug.”
Mr. Wallace eased himself down on the sofa. He was studying the dilapidated room.
“This place has gone to Hell in a hand basket,” he muttered.
“It has seen better days,” Helen said, “but Lord Middlebury is implementing numerous improvements.”
“I hope so. My wife would be so upset by this deterioration.”
“Your…wife?” she cautiously said. “I thought your wedding was in two weeks.”
“Abigail and I have been married for months. We used a Special License, but I told her she could have a grand celebration later on. We’re simply repeating the vows at my local church.”
“That’s lovely,” she murmured.
She wondered what Hayden would think of the news. He assumed the wedding was still pending and wasn’t aware that Mr. Wallace was part of the family.
She turned to Mr. Stanton. “How are you acquainted with Mr. Wallace?”
“I’m his brother-in-law.”
Helen’s jaw dropped, and she slammed it shut. “Are you wed to a Henley sister?”
“Yes, to Catherine.”
So Hayden had two brothers-in-law in his front parlor, and suddenly, she wasn’t sure she’d decided on the best route when she’d lured Mr. Wallace to the property. She was saved from mentally debating the issue by her father strolling in. Both men stood to greet him.
“This is my father, Simon Barnes.”
“Simon Barnes?” Mr. Wallace mused. “Where have I heard that name? I seem to recall a disgraced preacher whose name was similar.”
“It’s not him,” Helen hastily insisted. She flashed a visual warning to Simon to be silent about his past. “Father, this is Mr. Alex Wallace from Wallace Downs and his brother-in-law, Mr. Stanton. He’s married to Catherine Henley.”
“Oh, my, isn’t that…interesting,” Simon said. “Doesn’t she have a third sister as well? Sarah, I believe.”
“Yes, Sarah,” Mr. Stanton replied.
“Where is she? Lord Middlebury has been curious.”
“She’s at Wallace Downs. She and Nicholas.”
“Nicholas is…?”
“Her husband.”
“All three sisters are married and together?”
“Yes.”
“How splendid.” Her father added, “I’m certain Lord Middlebury will be ecstatic.”
They all sat again, Helen too, and she scrutinized Mr. Wallace. He was very handsome, very tough-looking in a proud and dangerous way. But his face was marked by worry lines, as if he’d experienced many hard years. With his arrogant stature and bearing, he resembled Hayden exactly.
On her finally setting eyes on him, she could absolutely comprehend why the men would have dueled. Neither was the sort to tolerate a slight. Neither was the sort to back down from a quarrel.
“I have to tell you something,” Helen said to him. “Mr. Stanton too. I have some news to share that I’m guessing will surprise you very much. In fact, I’m betting it will astonish you—and your wives.”
“Really?” Mr. Wallace scoffed. “What is it?”
“I’ve been eager for this meeting, even though I wasn’t positive of what the result would be.”
“If Middlebury is his usual thick-headed self, the result will be that I won’t stay long.”
“I’m predicting you’ll find Lord Middlebury very changed.”
“I doubt it. He’s generally renowned as a dullard and a dunce.” He smirked. “After I leave, you can apprise him of my opinion. I don’t mind.”
“I realize he’s had a bad reputation, but you’ll understand in a minute.”
“Yes, Miss Barnes, we’ll understand. Could we get on with it?”
“Honestly, Alex,” Mr. Stanton chided, “your manners have flown out the window. Stop being an ass.”
“I hate it here, and I won’t pretend he hasn’t been awful to Abigail and Catherine. He’ll be lucky if I don’t pound him into the ground. I’ve always wanted to.”
Helen blanched with dismay. “No one is pounding anyone, Mr. Wallace.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said like a threat.
Mr. Stanton butted in. “I agree with you, Miss Barnes, that we shouldn’t bicker, but could you locate Lord Middlebury? It’s not wise for us to tarry.”
“Yes, I’ll locate him.”
Should she simply usher Hayden in with no warning? Or should she dawdle and provide an explanation of what was about to occur? She stared at her father, seeking his guidance, but before he could supply any, Hayden was marching down the hall.
She smiled wanly. “Here is Lord Middlebury now.”
“It’s about time he showed his sorry self,” Mr. Wallace sneered.
“Promise me you’ll remain calm.”
“I’m very, very calm, Miss Barnes, but if he utters a derogatory word about my wife, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“He won’t utter a derogatory comment about her. I can guarantee you that.”
“He better not.”
“At first, you might be a tad shocked, but you have to remember that this is important. For everyone in your family—and his.”
Hayden stomped in. He was heavily armed, toting all his standard weapons so he might have been a bandit or highwayman. He was also blond and bronzed and magnificent as ever. Except that his shirt was covered with blood, the sleeve ripped away as if he’d been in a brawl and might have been stabbed.
“Helen”—he rudely ignored their company—“I have to talk to you.”
She was across the
room and blocking Mr. Wallace from his view. She scowled, not quite able to process what she was witnessing. “What happened to you?”
“Your cousin, Desdemona, shot me.”
She bit down a squeal of alarm. “Desdemona shot you?”
“Yes, but I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I am.”
“Where is she?”
“Robert is dealing with her out in the garden.”
“Has she gone mad?”
“Very likely.”
“Should I speak to her for you?”
“No. I need you to assist me. Are you busy?” he asked, even though he could clearly see that she was.
“Well, yes, I can attend you. First though, I’d like to introduce you to someone.”
“Can’t it wait?” His aggravation was obvious. “I’m a mess, and I should wash and have you bandage my wound.”
“This will only take a minute. Or probably more than a minute, but come here, would you?”
He didn’t move, and she sighed and walked over to him instead. She led him to the sofa.
“You have to meet him,” she said. “Actually, I believe you’re already acquainted.”
Hayden peered at the man, frowned, then dropped onto the nearest chair.
Mr. Wallace gasped, and she didn’t think it was because of the sight of all that blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“What is he doing in my home?”
Hayden bellowed the words at Helen, suddenly feeling so unhinged he wondered if the top of his head might blow off.
“I thought the two of you should talk.”
“Talk!”
“Yes, talk,” she calmly stated, “and it should happen here rather than at Wallace Downs in front of your daughters.”
“How dare you interfere!”
“You were anxious about how to proceed and couldn’t reach a decision, so I proceeded for you. Don’t shout at me.”
Wallace leapt to his feet, and on seeing Hayden—his old enemy—he appeared more stunned than angry. “You’re alive? Why are you alive? It’s not possible!”
Hayden ignored the question, and Helen replied for him. “It’s a very long story, Mr. Wallace, one that Lord Middlebury will be delighted to tell you about over the coming months and years.”
Wallace moved toward Hayden but didn’t approach all the way. He studied Hayden as if he were a venomous snake that might bite.
“You visited Wallace Downs, didn’t you?” Wallace voiced the remark like an accusation. “You spoke to Millie. She told me about it, but I didn’t believe her.”
There was another man in the room, a dark-haired fellow about Hayden’s age. He was staring back and forth from Hayden to Wallace. He was completely perplexed, and he said, “Would someone like to explain what’s going on?”
Hayden focused in on him, and he was bristling with fury. “Who the hell are you?”
“Hayden,” Helen said, “this is your brother-in-law, Christopher Stanton. He’s married to your sister, Catherine.”
“What?”
Hayden heard the comment with no difficulty, but it rattled him. Although he understood Catherine was twenty-four, in his mind she was still the adolescent girl she’d been that final Christmas.
Mr. Stanton frowned at Helen. “You called him Hayden. Is this Hayden Henley?”
“Yes, Mr. Stanton. This is Catherine’s brother, Hayden Henley.”
“Whoa!” he muttered as she continued.
“He’s Lord Middlebury now.”
Her mention of his title had Wallace butting in. He said to her, “It was you who wrote me, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Hayden interrupted to roar at Helen, “You wrote him a letter about me?”
“Yes. You asked for my help, and I gave it.”
Wallace disregarded their petty squabble and complained to Helen. “When you claimed the earl wanted to confer about my marriage to Abigail, you meant him.” He pointed a disparaging finger at Hayden. “Not Jasper Henley. Him!”
“Jasper has stepped aside,” Helen said, which was putting it mildly.
“He stepped aside?” Wallace snidely retorted. “You make it sound so amicable. I could swear Jasper’s wife shot him a few minutes ago.”
“Jasper and Desdemona are a little upset—as you can imagine—but they’ll come to terms with it. They have no choice really.” Helen was blithely nonchalant as she gestured to Mr. Stanton. “Would you join me in the hall, Mr. Stanton? Mr. Wallace and Lord Middlebury have important matters to discuss privately.”
Mr. Stanton peered over at Wallace. “Are you all right to be alone with him?”
“I won’t kill him,” Wallace said, “if that’s what’s worrying you.”
“It is worrying me actually,” Stanton replied.
Hayden scoffed. “As if he could kill me now. I’m not an untried green boy these days.”
“No one is killing anyone,” Helen commanded like a grumpy schoolteacher. “No one is punching anyone. No one is committing an act of violence. You will have a conversation like two rational adults.”
“Are you sure they can manage it?” Mr. Stanton asked.
“Of course they can.” She glowered at Hayden, then Wallace. “You have sisters to apprise and daughters in common. You have custody arrangements to review, and you must figure out how you will announce Hayden’s return at Wallace Downs.” She glanced at her father, then at Hayden. “Would you like Simon to stay and serve as your arbitrator?”
“No,” Hayden said as Wallace said, “Yes.”
“No!” Hayden stated more firmly. “Get him out of here.”
“I will,” Helen said, “but if voices are raised, I’m sending him in. When I told you there is to be no quarreling, I wasn’t joking.” She waved to her father and Mr. Stanton. “Simon? Mr. Stanton? Let’s go.”
She went to the door and tapped her foot until they obeyed her and slinked out. She cast a severe glare at Wallace, then at Hayden.
“I won’t allow either of you to leave until you resolve some of the bigger issues. I don’t care how you resolve them or which you select. Just resolve what you can. You’re family.”
“We’re not family yet,” Hayden countered. “I have two weeks to talk Abigail out of this.”
“You’re wrong, Hayden,” she said. “Your sister wed him by Special License months ago.”
“What?” he fumed.
“They’re having a ceremony in September to repeat the vows in church. He’s your brother-in-law, despite how fervidly you wish he wasn’t. Now finish this so I can look at your wound. And don’t you dare faint before I tend it. I’ll be so annoyed if I have to pick you up off the floor.”
With that snotty remark deftly hurled, she strolled out and shut the door with a determined click.
He and Wallace were both standing, and they warily studied each other. Hayden had only ever seen Wallace twice in his life. Once when the man had strutted up out of the blue, hit him, and challenged him to a duel. The other time was when they’d squared off over pistols that cold, gray morning on Marley Field.
He was amazed to so clearly remember details of Wallace’s face, but he’d forgotten other things. They were roughly the same height, had the same broad shoulders and long legs, were able to display the same imperious arrogance.
If they’d been acquainted as boys, might they have been friends? Wallace was from a rich family, his ancestors comprising a lengthy string of famous soldiers who’d grown wealthy off their centuries of pillaging in the King’s army. He probably knew all of Hayden’s boyhood chums.
In the years Hayden had been away, he’d obsessed over the duel and its aftermath, but he hadn’t pondered Alex Wallace as a person with a past separate from the battle they’d waged.
Wallace broke the tense silence. “An interesting woman, your housekeeper.”
“A damned busybody—who needs to le
arn to mind her own business.”
“I agree.”
Wallace walked to the sideboard and poured two whiskeys. He came back and handed one to Hayden, then he took his own and sat on the sofa.
“Might I suggest you sit down too?” Wallace said. “Or you’re likely to fall down. You look thoroughly spent, but then, you were just shot.”
Hayden was flagging and felt like a whipped dog. He’d have liked to remain on his feet, but he was quite miserable. His head was aching, his wound throbbing, and his knuckles were swelling again from punching another cousin.
He eased onto a nearby chair, and he drank down the whiskey in a single swallow. Wallace went over, grabbed the bottle, and refilled his glass. He placed the bottle on the table between them, realizing this was a chat that would require copious amounts of alcohol.
“So,” Wallace started, “you’re alive and you’re home.”
Though Wallace had to be dying of curiosity, Hayden wasn’t about to explain his ordeal or the painful road he’d traveled. He changed the subject.
“Where are my sisters?”
“They’re all at Wallace Downs, preparing for the wedding.”
“Sarah too?”
“Yes, with her husband and mother-in-law.”
“She’s married as well?”
“Yes.”
The news was more distressing than it should have been. He ought to have been relieved, ought to have been ecstatic that they were safe and settled, but with their all being wives, it underscored how much he’d missed while he was away. It left him angrier than he already was.
“Who is her husband?” he asked.
“A fellow named Nicholas Swift.”
Hayden scowled, thinking he knew Swift. They might have attended school together. It wasn’t a common name. Could it be the same man? It was more news that was distressing, and he felt dizzy and disoriented, as if he was up in Heaven and gazing down, trying to make sense of all that had occurred after he’d departed for Italy.
“Is she happy?”
“Disgustingly happy.”
“Good,” he murmured.
He gulped down his whiskey and filled his glass a third time. It was the very worst moment to become inebriated, but it seemed the very best moment too. He didn’t want to be in his front parlor with Alex Wallace. He didn’t want to be covered in blood, with his arm aching and his spirits at a low ebb.
