by Cheryl Holt
He missed her. As with Ralston, he and Faith had been thrown together in an exotic, exciting way. Their adventure had created an attachment that was deeper and more profound than he’d deemed likely with a female. They were completely connected, and it seemed wrong for them to be parted.
“I don’t love her.” At telling such a bald-faced lie, he flushed with shame.
“You don’t? Then why are you staggering about like a man who lost his last friend?”
“I still have you.”
“Yes, you lucky dog, but think how grand it would be to have Faith too!”
“I couldn’t have supported her, Ralston.”
It was the first and only time he’d confessed the relationship, and he was shocked to have blurted it out. Nothing good could come from such an admission.
“So…you were fond of her,” Ralston said.
“Very fond.”
“Are you prepared to let her walk away?”
“Yes.”
“You’re an ass, Chase Hubbard.”
The insult was spot on, but Chase bristled with offense. He gestured around their apartment with its tattered rugs and worn furniture. There was a sitting room and two small bedchambers. That was it.
“This is all I had to offer her.”
“She’d have snatched it up in a heartbeat.”
“Yes, she would have, and then she’d have grown to hate me.” Chase scowled. “Did you ever talk to her about her family?”
“No.”
“Her father is a wealthy merchant. She was raised in a mansion filled with servants. She’d have suffocated in my world.”
“Or maybe not. Wouldn’t it have been worth the gamble to find out?”
“She’d have been so miserable. I couldn’t bear to contemplate it.”
“Idiot,” Ralston mumbled. A fraught silence ensued, then Ralston said, “Well, just so you know, I love Rowena.”
“I thought so.”
“The minute I secure a new post, I’m bringing her to London so I can marry her.”
“What if your relatives don’t approve?”
“Why wouldn’t they? Besides, it’s not up to them. As opposed to some people”—he glowered at Chase—“I intend to be happy for the rest of my days.”
“You imagine Rowena will make you happy?”
“I have no doubt.”
“I hope so, Ralston. I truly do.”
“Thank you.”
“When she comes to London, you’ll leave me to be with her.”
It was a whiny comment, and Chase was stunned to have uttered it. He viewed himself as a very manly fellow and didn’t have to beg his friend to remain close. They were simply so intimately bonded. Like brothers, only more than that.
Ralston shook his head. “I will never leave you. If you need to sleep on the sofa in my parlor, you will always have a place with me.”
“And if I ultimately learn I’ve inherited that fortune you mentioned, you’ll always have a place with me.”
“Let me get this straight.” Ralston snorted with amusement. “You’ll always have a place with me—even if I don’t have a farthing to my name. And I will always have a place with you so long as you’re rich as Croesus.”
“Yes, precisely.”
Ralston laughed. “Don’t ever change, Chase. You’d be boring if you became respectable.” He glanced out the window and said, “There’s my cab. Finally. I have to go.”
They stared, Ralston looking lost, Chase feeling abandoned, which was ridiculous.
“So go,” Chase scolded. “Don’t stand there like a ninny.”
“Will you walk me down?”
“No. You know I loathe goodbyes.”
“I’ll be back in two weeks.”
“Even if your mother cooks all your favorite foods and spoils you rotten?”
“Even then. I have to have a job so I can send for Rowena.”
“Ah…a man with a mission.”
“I’ll be happier than you.”
“You already are,” Chase said.
“I’ll be happier than you forever.”
“I’m sure that’s true. Now be off, would you? Your chatter exhausts me.”
Ralston grabbed his portmanteau. “Two weeks. Then I’ll be back. I swear it.”
“I’ll see you then. Have a safe trip.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“Oh, for bloody’s sake,” Chase griped. “Just go!”
Ralston gave a jaunty salute and strolled out. Chase listened to him bound down the stairs and he was whistling, being his usual merry self.
Chase considered peeking out the window, watching as Ralston climbed in his cab, perhaps waving like a smitten girl, but he refrained.
He abhorred maudlin sentiment, and he was definitely maudlin. He settled down in his chair and enjoyed his whiskey, pondering all that had happened, pondering Faith and how bitterly they’d parted.
Ralston’s remarks had stirred it up again, but Chase was mortified to remember how he’d behaved. Even if he was brave enough to visit Faith, even if he beseeched her to come to London to join him in squalor and subsist on his winnings from gambling, she’d never agree.
Why, if he showed up at the convent, she likely wouldn’t even meet with him and he’d deserve her scorn.
Suddenly a knock sounded on the door, and Chase chuckled and stood to answer it. He assumed it was Ralston, and without thinking, he yanked the door open.
“What did you forget?” Chase asked, but he stumbled to a halt when he realized that it wasn’t Ralston.
A short, stout man was there instead. He was tidy and clean-shaven, dressed in a neat gray suit, a bowler hat, a folder of papers under his arm. A lawyer or rich man’s clerk if Chase had ever seen one.
“Dammit!” he grumbled.
“Mr. Chase Hubbard, I presume?”
“Yes, you found me.”
The man weaseled his way across the threshold before Chase could shove him out.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Faith, darling! Hello!”
“Hello, Lambert.”
“Come in, come in.”
Lambert gestured for her to enter the front parlor, and she couldn’t help but sense that he was lord of the manor. He’d inherited her childhood home—called Heron Hall—and everything else too, the extensive farm, the warehouses, the shops in town.
Their positions had shifted, and for a brief moment she was galled by the change. But as swiftly as the emotion overtook her, she shook it away.
The world was not a fair place for a woman, and her father would never have bequeathed his estate to Faith. He’d been very traditional and wouldn’t have considered conferring title to a female. He’d offered Faith a chance to claim some of what he’d owned. He’d begged her to marry Lambert, but she’d refused. It was a little late to lament how Fate had dealt her a bad hand.
Though she was completely altered by her time away, she felt as if she’d never been gone a single day. She’d staggered in penniless, friendless, and with her father’s death, she was an orphan too.
Lambert escorted her to a chair and rang for a tea tray. As he seated himself, his smile was just as fake and as proud as ever.
The years hadn’t been kind to him. Previously he’d been slender and relatively handsome. Now he was balding and chubby, his stomach protruding over the waistband of his trousers, providing stark evidence that the cook at Heron Hall was still skilled, the food still delicious.
He was older than she was, thirty to her twenty-five, but he appeared much older. He was tall, five-foot-ten, but didn’t seem as big as he had prior. His shoulders were slumped so he no longer towered over her.
A maid entered with their refreshments, and Lambert relaxed and let Faith pour, which she didn’t mind. Before she’d departed for the convent, she’d acted as her father’s hostess so she was used to the role, and she relished the memories it generated.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived,” he said.
“After the footman located me at my office, I rushed home.”
“There was no need to hurry, but I appreciate it.”
She was attired in her black dress, but she wasn’t wearing her wimple so she might have been a dour governess or perhaps a widow in mourning.
He pointed to her clothes. “Pardon me if I overstep my bounds, but you don’t look as if you’re a nun.”
“I never was a nun.”
“Oh, I’d forgotten. You never took your vows.”
“And I’ve decided not to take them.”
“Have you?” he mused. “What an interesting turn of events.”
“Yes, I can’t quite wrap my head around it.”
“When you first left, you were so determined.”
“I was an absolute boor about it, wasn’t I?”
“I’m too polite to call you a boor.” He smirked and sipped his tea. He was studying her curiously. “What brought about your change of heart?”
“I had traveled to Rome.”
“Yes, we heard that you had.”
“I encountered a few misadventures on the journey.”
“Nothing too horrid, I hope.”
“Nothing horrid,” she lied, “but once I was back at the convent, I simply felt so different that I couldn’t imagine continuing down that path.”
“Are you at Heron Hall for good? You intend to remain?”
“Yes, if you’ll let me.”
On the trip south, she’d occasionally panicked when she worried about her reception. She’d never warmed to Lambert, and they’d parted on bad terms. If he told her she couldn’t stay, what would she do?
But he relieved her enormously when he said, “Of course you can stay with us. For as long as you like.”
“Who is us?” she asked.
“Me, Alice, and her daughters.”
“I’ve been away for ages. You haven’t married?”
“No. I know you’ll find this difficult to believe, but I’ve never met a female whose company I enjoyed as much as yours. Plus I couldn’t bear to have another woman at Heron Hall when it seems to be yours.”
“It’s sweet of you to hold that opinion. I’m pleased that you’re still fond of me.”
“I’ve always been extremely fond.”
She couldn’t stand his shrewd assessment so she switched subjects. “Tell me about my father’s passing. Was he ill? Was it sudden?”
“It was very sudden. He ate supper one night, then collapsed as he was walking to his bedchamber. It was over very fast.”
“He didn’t suffer?”
“No, he didn’t suffer.”
“That’s good news, I guess.” She wasn’t sure how to probe for details so she decided to blurt out her question. If she was too indiscreet, he’d inform her.
“How did Father dispose of his affairs?” she asked.
“You mean with his Will and the estate?”
“Yes.”
“He left everything to me as he planned.”
“How about Alice? Was she given a portion or allowance?”
“No. He and I talked about Alice at length and I hate to sound rude, but you’re aware of what she’s like.”
They shared a conspiratorial grin.
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“She could never take care of herself or her girls so he expected me to provide for her.”
“Is she living in the Dower House?”
“Not yet. Heron Hall is very large, and even though she’s not much of a hostess, I don’t see any need for her to move until I wed. Then…we’ll have to make other arrangements. I’m certain my bride wouldn’t like to have such a young and beautiful female residing under the same roof.”
“Probably not,” Faith agreed, and she was disturbed to feel herself aghast at the notion of him marrying, of his bringing in a stranger to rule over Heron Hall. The prospect of his having a wife, of her having free rein to remodel or rebuild was infuriating.
But Faith was in no position to complain, and it wasn’t really her home anymore. She was like an unwanted guest, or perhaps the proverbial poor relative, who could be ordered to leave if she became a burden.
“I’m sorry to ask this,” she said, “because it will seem so mercenary but, by any chance, was I mentioned in my father’s Will?”
“No, you weren’t.”
“What about my mother’s jewels and other personal belongings?”
“The family jewels went to Alice.” She must have looked particularly despondent because he added, “She was Harold’s wife, Faith. Much as you and I were stunned by the union, she was his wife. He was within his rights to give her some baubles.”
“Of course he was.”
“And he didn’t think you’d ever return. Nor did he think you’d want us to send you any extravagant or pretty items, not when you’d taken a vow of poverty.”
“It would have been awkward I suppose, but I would have liked to have something.”
“Well, you’re welcome to snoop. You may find a few objects I can bear to part with.”
“Thank you.” She had to restrain herself so she didn’t march around the table and throttle him.
She was distracted by the crunch of carriage wheels in the front drive. Lambert glanced out the window and said, “Here’s Alice now. She’ll be so excited that you’ve arrived.”
As they waited for Alice to come inside, Lambert chatted about the funeral, about the businesses, and it was definitely clear there’d been no delay or difficulty with his stepping into her father’s shoes. Faith wasn’t paying much attention though.
Nothing had changed at Heron Hall precisely, yet everything had changed. Lambert owned the place, and Alice was her father’s widow. Where did Faith fit in that scenario?
They heard Alice in the vestibule, heard her speaking with a servant. Momentarily she entered the parlor, although it would have been more accurate to describe her as floating in. She was such an ethereal creature that she glided, always appearing as if her feet didn’t quite touch the ground.
Dressed in her mourning clothes, she was perfectly tragic. Her skin was very pale, and her white-blond hair enhanced her frail countenance, but swaddled as she was in black fabric, she seemed even more fragile and delicate.
“I have a surprise for you, Alice,” Lambert said. “Look who’s visited!”
“Yes, the butler told me.” Alice sauntered over to Faith, leaned down, and kissed her on the cheek. “Dearest Faith, we’re so glad you’re home. Is this a short holiday, or may I hope you’re here to stay?”
“I’m here to stay,” Faith replied.
“Have you left the convent?” Alice asked.
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“It’s a long story.” Faith wasn’t inclined to discuss any of it. “I’m back where I belong.”
That was probably laying it on too thick, but Alice hastily concurred. “You absolutely belong. Lambert and I need you, and in fact it was his suggestion that I write and beg you to return.” She smiled her childlike smile. “It’s been dreadful since Harold passed away. I’m so relieved I’ll have you to rely on during these awful times.”
Lambert stood and headed to the door. “I’ll leave you ladies to catch up.”
“Oh, Lambert,” Alice breathed, “must you go?”
“Yes, Alice. You know how busy I am. I’ll be home for supper.”
He strolled out, and Alice snuggled down next to Faith, close enough that their sides were touching. She stared at Faith with an expression of wide-eyed innocence that drove men wild, but annoyed Faith very much. She couldn’t abide Alice’s juvenile ways.
“He’s gone so we can talk,” Alice said.
“About what?”
“I’m so afraid.”
“Afraid? Why would you be?”
“Your father bequeathed all the assets to Lambert
, and he’s obsessed with matrimony. What will happen to me when he marries?”
“Why would anything happen?”
“I didn’t receive a penny so I can’t move on or wed again.”
Alice had quickly snagged Faith’s father without a dowry so Faith didn’t consider it an obstacle. Alice had a knack for making men jump to help her, but she’d have to live in town for an extended period to meet any suitors.
Who would finance such a trip? Lambert perhaps, but it would be expensive. What if he refused to spend the money? How would Alice muster the funds to begin a new life? Shouldn’t she be able to remain at Heron Hall? She’d been wife to the prior owner and she’d birthed him two daughters.
“Lambert hasn’t started searching for a bride, has he?” Faith asked.
“No, but he mentions it constantly. With the estate settled, he’s quite the marital prize. There are dozens of girls in the neighborhood who would snatch him up. And if he went to London, well…”
“Yes, I suppose there would be an enormous flock willing to have him.”
“If he brought a wife home, Faith, she wouldn’t want me lurking.”
“No, I don’t imagine she would.”
“What am I to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your position isn’t very secure either.”
“Lambert might kick me out?”
“Maybe not Lambert, but I’m positive his bride wouldn’t like you hanging on anymore than she’d like me.”
“True,” Faith mumbled.
“It seemed so logical when your father decided to have Lambert support me, but on further reflection it seems a terrible folly.”
Faith pondered the situation, then asked, “What if you wed Lambert yourself? A union between the two of you would solve many problems.”
Alice giggled. “Lambert would never wed me. I already suggested it. He’s rich now, and he treats me as if I’m a child. I could never be the wife he requires.”
“He said that?”
“In a kindly fashion, but I understood what he was telling me. I don’t blame him. I’m not very bright, and he’s so smart and capable. He deserves an educated spouse, one who can comprehend his trials and tribulations. It could never be me.”
“I could speak to him for you.”
