by Cheryl Holt
Yet she had a sinking feeling that the entire scheme was dodgy, and Faith was too besotted to notice the hazards that were approaching.
Viscount Pendergast would never attach himself to an odd bohemian who carried on outside the norm of what society expected. His wife had to entertain the highest people in the land. She had to dance attendance on the royal family. She had to manage her husband’s vast properties and enormous staff of employees that could number in the thousands.
Faith had none of the training, attributes, or skills a nobleman looked for in a bride. What was Lord Pendergast thinking? Why did Abigail fear Faith would flee with him but never end up with a ring on her finger?
“He swore he’d wed you?” Abigail nagged. “You’re positive?”
“Gad, Abigail. Yes, I’m positive. Don’t be such a worrywart. The captain will perform the ceremony on the ship when we’re crossing the Channel.”
“You’ve figured it all out,” Abigail murmured.
“Yes. It will be so romantic.”
“Didn’t you once tell me you never planned to wed?”
“I changed my mind.” Faith laughed. “Actually, he changed my mind. With him as my husband, it won’t bother me a bit.”
“This is what you want?”
“Absolutely. There’s never been anything for me here. I’ve constantly been vilified because of my mother, and my Wallace relatives will be delighted to be shed of me.”
“I’m not sure Alex will feel that way.”
“Trust me, he’ll be ecstatic, and his mother will dance in the clouds. I can’t wait to depart.”
“I’m glad for you then,” Abigail lied.
“Thank you.”
Faith downed her drink, then went over and set the glass on the sideboard.
“I have to finish packing,” she said, “but it’s taking me forever. I can’t decide what to bring and what to leave behind.”
“Promise you won’t flit off without warning me, all right? I would hate to come into the house some afternoon and find out you’d vanished without a goodbye. The twins would be distressed too. We’ll all miss you.”
“I won’t go without informing you.” She headed for the stairs. “And don’t forget! Not a word to anyone—especially Alex.”
“No, not a word.”
But Abigail was sick at heart and wondered if she should keep to her vow. If she broke it in order to save her friend from certain disaster, wasn’t it proper to renege? She had no idea, but she wouldn’t sleep a wink as she pondered the answer to that question.
Then again, maybe she needn’t debate. Lord Pendergast would never wed Faith Wallace out on a boat in the Channel that was sailing to Spain.
She couldn’t imagine it happening.
* * * *
Miss Barrington-Henley,
It has come to my attention that you arrived at Wallace Downs only to land yourself in a potentially dangerous situation with regard to your new employer. I am convinced this will lead to problems down the road—if it hasn’t already. We must act swiftly to prevent any damage to your reputation.
I have always considered you to possess excellent character and temperament. However, we both know how quickly a girl can get herself into trouble, particularly when that girl is pretty and there is an unscrupulous man in the house.
I have written to Mr. Wallace to apprise him that your services will no longer be available and that I will send him a different governess at his earliest convenience. Your short tenure with the Wallace family has ended so please pack your bags.
I will expect to see you returned to my office in London on Friday afternoon. I also expect—should you wish to continue being represented by me—that I will receive no argument from you with regard to this decision.
We must and will save you from Mr. Wallace’s inappropriate advances.
Yours,
Mrs. Florence J. Ford
P.S. Do not be a fool and believe you can stay. Leave at once.
* * * *
My dearest Faith,
It is with a heavy heart that I write you, but I couldn’t bear to think of you waiting for me at Wallace Downs. Recent events have guaranteed I will not ever come back, and after you learn what I have done, I am certain you will never want me to come back. I have to be sure you understand that I won’t return. I am devastated to imagine you pining away and wondering where I am.
I have always loved you, and I probably always will. You were the only thing in my life that ever made me happy. I will dream about Spain and the little village on the beach where you could have painted your beautiful paintings and we could have been so content. But it wasn’t meant to be.
I am ashamed to have pretended I could elope with you, but I simply can’t behave so frivolously, and I shouldn’t have acted as if a future was possible between us. Fate has dragged me in a direction that doesn’t include you, and I will ceaselessly regret that I wasn’t man enough to grab for what I truly desired.
I hope someday you will find it in your heart to forgive me. For now and forever, I will be your most devoted…
Price Pendergast
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Abigail peeked out the front door, watching for the carriage Alex was sending to bring her to the manor. So far, there was no sign of it, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She still had a few more minutes to change her mind.
Would she really join him for supper? Would she be that reckless?
Apparently, yes.
“You’re very pretty, Miss Barrington,” Mary said.
“Thank you, Mary.”
Millie walked over, and she had her hand hidden behind her back. When she pulled it out, she was holding a small bouquet of flowers they must have picked in the garden.
“What are those for?” Abigail asked her.
“We thought they would look nice with your gown.”
“You’re correct. They will.”
She was finally wearing some of the clothes Alex had bought her. The garment fit perfectly, with only minimal stitching required at the hem. There was a fan hanging from her wrist, a shawl draped over her shoulders.
She hadn’t intended to ever wear any of the purchases, but once again she was on the verge of resigning—Mrs. Ford was demanding it—and there was a vain facet to her personality. She was absurdly determined that Alex view her as the young lady she’d previously been.
She crushed the bouquet to the bodice of the dress. The fabric was blue, and the flowers were pink, white, and purple.
“Do they match?” Abigail inquired.
“They’re just right. Mr. Wallace will be very pleased.”
They were so happy for her, so excited she was going to supper. They had an expectant expression on their faces as if they anticipated a monumental event to occur while she was there. Abigail almost wished a colossal incident would transpire so she could regale them with stories when she returned.
How would she ever abandon them? Yet Mrs. Ford had been very clear in her letter. Abigail had been ordered away from Wallace Downs. Would she obey the edict? Or would she jeopardize her spot with Mrs. Ford? Would she remain with her nieces who needed her so desperately?
“What food will Mr. Wallace serve?” Millie asked.
“I have no idea,” Abigail said, “but I’m betting it will be delicious.”
“Will there be dozens of guests? Will he use the fine china?”
“It won’t be a large gathering,” Abigail told them. “We’re meeting to talk about you two.”
“Us? For the whole meal?”
They appeared horrified.
“Well, probably not the whole meal, but definitely for part of it. I haven’t given Mr. Wallace a report on your progress with your lessons.”
“What will you tell him?”
“I’ll tell him you’re the most brilliant students I’ve ever taught.”
“And we always behave?”
“Always.�
��
“And that we’re polite and helpful?”
“Yes, of course.”
At her replies, they glanced at each other and nodded in a stoic way, and Abigail was charmed. Her sisters, Sarah and Catherine, often stared like that, as if they could read each other’s minds.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
They hemmed and hawed, then Mary said, “We’d be so afraid to have him hear we were causing trouble. He’d kick us out.”
“Kick you out of…where?”
Mary gestured around the foyer. “The cottage. We’d like to keep living here with you. We don’t want to have to leave.”
Millie added, “Where would we go, Miss Barrington?”
“You won’t ever have to leave,” Abigail insisted. “Have you been worrying you might?”
They shared a glance again, then Mary nudged Millie, giving her permission to answer. “Our mother told us we must never make him angry or he would throw us out on the road. She made him angry once, and he threw her out so we have to be very careful.”
Abigail took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She took another and let it out too. She knelt down so they were eye to eye.
“Mr. Wallace will never kick you out!” she declared. “No matter what.”
“Mother warned us he might. We have to watch out.”
“Your mother is wrong,” Abigail firmly stated, and she sincerely thought—should she ever meet the despicable woman—she’d wring her neck. “She and Mr. Wallace have had some disagreements, but it was adults quarreling. It had naught to do with you.”
“She said it was all about us—because he didn’t like us.”
“It wasn’t about you! You’re Mr. Wallace’s wards, and he has a duty to support and protect you. He would never be awful. Has he been awful in the past?”
They shook their heads. “No.”
“And he won’t be in the future,” Abigail said. “He’s very fond of you.”
They scowled. “Has he told you that?”
“He’s told me a dozen times, and I’ve only been here a few days. Imagine how many times he’ll say it after I’ve been here for a year!”
They were dubious, and Abigail would have liked to stand there all night to reassure them, but the carriage was rumbling up the drive. She held out her arms to them. They trudged over to her, and she drew them to her chest and hugged them as tightly as she could.
“Don’t fret so much,” she murmured. “Everything is fine now.”
“We won’t fret,” Mary said as they moved away. “Not with you to tend us.”
Abigail could barely keep from wincing. She’d done her job and done it well. They’d already grown too close to her, and she was too close to them. What would become of them if she departed?
She rose to her feet and smoothed the skirt of her gown. “What are the rules for this evening?”
“We’re to be in bed by eight.”
“And…?”
“We’re to wash and say our prayers first.”
“May we read another chapter before we blow out the candle?” Mary asked.
They were in the middle of a novel they were enjoying together, and Abigail responded, “Yes, so long as you only read one chapter. You can’t get too far ahead of me. It wouldn’t be fair if you knew what happened next, but I didn’t.”
“We won’t get too far ahead,” Millie promised. “May we wait up for you? Please? You told us no, but we’d like to very much.”
“Your comment is the nicest I’ve ever heard.” Abigail patted them both on the shoulder. “It’s been ages since anyone waited up for me. But no, you may not wait up.”
A sharp rap sounded on the door, and Abigail said, “That’s for me. Remember, if you need anything, Faith is up in her room.”
“We won’t need anything,” Mille claimed which was for the best.
Faith had been locked away all afternoon, and Abigail hoped she wasn’t ill, and she probably wasn’t. She was an artist with an artist’s temperament. She frequently locked herself away when she was working.
Her vanishing meant Abigail hadn’t had to explain that she’d accepted Alex’s invitation or that she was wearing a new gown. Faith wouldn’t have approved of her decision, and Abigail was relieved she hadn’t had to justify her actions.
The knock sounded again, and Abigail opened the door. A footman from the manor was there, dressed in the Wallace livery. The twins stared at him as if a royal coach had been sent to fetch her, and Abigail had to admit she felt like Cinderella rushing off to the ball.
“Miss Barrington?” the footman said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, I’m ready,” she replied. “Goodnight girls.”
“Goodnight.”
She walked out, and a different footman was there by the carriage, the step down, his hand extended to help her in. She couldn’t recollect the last time such courtesy had been offered to her, and she was so bowled over that tears flooded her eyes.
She climbed in, then the footmen leapt to their perches, and the driver clicked the reins. They rolled away, and the twins chased them for a bit, calling and laughing as if it was the grandest spectacle they’d ever witnessed.
Once the vehicle pulled onto the lane, their youthful voices faded, and it grew quiet. She gazed out the window at the evening colors, the deep green of the woods, the gold and lavender of the sky as the sun moved over into the west.
Very soon, she’d be at the manor, and she braced as if an assault was approaching.
She couldn’t continue at her post. Not with Mrs. Ford ordering her away, and not with Camilla Robertson still in residence. She would never stop trying to force Abigail out. What option did she have but to quit?
But Abigail had vowed—from the moment she’d discovered the twins to be her nieces—that she would never allow herself to be separated from them. Yet she constantly forgot that the choice to stay with them wasn’t up to her. Alex Wallace had to permit it, and the tiniest trifle could get her fired.
She was tiptoeing over hazardous ground, being battered from all sides, and despite what path she picked it would be the wrong one and would anger one person or another very much. Her main goal was that the twins not be hurt, but if she obeyed Mrs. Ford how could she keep to any pledge she’d made about them?
“What to do? What to do?” she mumbled to herself.
She had no idea, but she’d decided—for this night at least—she would ignore her reservations. She would be a woman, and she would let Alex be a man, and she would enjoy a lovely supper as his special guest.
It was insane to view her visit like that, but she was thrilled to join him and would pretend it was all totally respectable.
They rounded a bend in the road and started up the long drive to the manor. The house was aglow with lights, the windows sparkling like diamonds as if the whole property was on pins and needles, eager for her to arrive.
At the magnificent scene, she smiled and relaxed against the seat.
* * * *
As Alex entered the small dining room he used for intimate meals, he was nervous as a boy who had his first crush on a girl. He had so many things to tell her, and he was terrified he wasn’t smart enough to accomplish what he was determined to accomplish.
She was over by the hearth, studying a painting over the mantle. It was a picture of the manor from a hundred years earlier, and he liked how it reminded him of continuity. He’d lost his way for a decade, but during that tumultuous period he’d realized what mattered.
His home. His wealth. His land. The men in his family had been soldiers for generations, and in their lengthy tours of service they’d accrued great prosperity and status. He had to remember that. He had a duty to all of them to protect what they’d built, and he couldn’t squander it.
He grinned with delight. “You wore a dress I bought for you.”
“I thought I’d better or you might send me to the cottage to chang
e.”
“You’re correct. I wasn’t about to sit at the table with you when you were attired like a frump.”
“See? I know you well.”
“Yes, and it’s scary.”
She pointed to the painting. “Is this one of Faith’s?”
“No. It’s from a century ago. Previously, I had a portrait of my parents hanging in that spot, but I didn’t suppose it was a sight that would help with digestion.”
She chuckled. “Probably not.”
“Come here.”
“Why?”
“I need to welcome you properly.”
“I feel plenty welcome right where I am.”
He was across the room and didn’t like there to be so much distance between them. He went over and kissed her as if they’d been apart for months.
“You look beautiful,” he said as he drew away.
“Flatterer.”
“I want you to wear blue from now on. It suits you.”
“You make this so difficult.”
“How am I making it difficult? I’ve simply told you how pretty you are.”
“It’s recently occurred to me that I’m a very vain person, and I love how you stroke my ego with your compliments.”
“Then I will dispense more of them. I will offer up so many that you will ultimately command me to be silent.”
The door opened, and he stepped away from her. He’d been holding her hand, and he furtively dropped it. From behind him, the butler said, “Shall I pour the wine, sir?”
“Yes.”
The man filled two goblets, then carried them over on a tray. Alex and Abigail both took one.
Abigail flashed a brilliant smile. “Thank you.”
The butler asked Alex, “Shall we bring supper in? Cook advises me it’s ready.”
Alex peered over at Abigail, seeking her opinion, and she said, “Yes, that would be marvelous. I’m starving.”
