Forever Yours (The Forever Series #1)

by Cheryl Holt

  Faith wrinkled up her nose. “They weren’t that good.”

  “I thought they were.”

  “It’s kind of you to say so.”

  “Mr. Wallace isn’t going to marry Miss Barrington,” Mary suddenly blurted out.

  “I know. She told me.”

  “Did she tell you she’s not Miss Barrington? Did she tell you she’s Miss Henley?”

  “Yes, she told me that too.”

  “She’s leaving on Sunday.”

  Faith sighed. “Yes, she is.”

  “We might leave with her.”

  “You might?”

  “She claims Mr. Wallace would never let us, but if he would send her away we don’t care what he thinks.”

  Faith didn’t necessarily deem it a dire ending for the twins to depart with Abigail—if only she had the means to support them. Of a certainty, no one at Wallace Downs had ever been particularly thrilled to have them as residents, and she had been the worst of the lot.

  If Abigail ran off with them, numerous people would celebrate, starting with Camilla and rippling out from there.

  “I’d miss you and Millie if you left,” Faith said, and it was true. She would.

  Mary stared at her for the longest while, and there was an eloquent, mature expression lurking behind her eyes. Ultimately, she said, “I doubt you would.” She extended her hand, and she was holding a note. “A footman from the manor brought this for you. He said it was urgent and you should have it right away.”

  “My goodness.” Faith blanched with dismay.

  In all her years at the cottage, she’d never received a note from the main house. Was it her brother, Trevor? Was he ill? Had there been an accident at school? What could it be?

  She grabbed it and flicked at the seal, quickly scanning the words that had been penned by the housekeeper.

  Mr. Wallace’s butler in town advises that Mr. Wallace is very angry with Lord Pendergast. The staff is worried that—for some reason—there may be a duel between the two men. He begs you to come to London immediately to speak with Mr. Wallace.

  “Oh, my Lord,” she muttered. “This can’t be happening.”

  Alex suspected her affair with Lord Pendergast, but it was her own private business. She didn’t want them fighting over her! It was ridiculous. She’d leapt into the debacle of her own free will. She hadn’t been forced to participate. If she’d been seduced by a scoundrel, it was her own fault.

  Would Alex duel with another peer? Would he shoot his old friend? Over her?

  The entire prospect would have been laughable if it wasn’t so dangerous. There could be no satisfactory conclusion. He’d wind up in jail again and probably hanged this time. And after it was over, the whole world would know Faith was a trollop and Lord Pendergast had ruined her.

  Alex was insane. Lord Pendergast was insane. And Faith was exhausted and exasperated by both of them.

  “What is it?” Mary asked. “Is it bad news?”

  “Yes, Mary. It’s very bad news. Is Abigail at the cottage?”

  “No. She’s walking on the beach with Millie.”

  “I have to talk to her. Then…I guess I have to travel to London as fast as I can.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Alex stood in front of the mirror in his bedchamber and struggled to arrange his cravat. He was in such a foul mood he didn’t have the patience for intricate knotting. One of his footmen yearned to become a valet, and he could have asked the man for help, but he hadn’t ever liked to have servants fussing, especially with his clothes and person.

  He was dressed for an evening on the town, looking like the rich oaf he was. No matter the event where he appeared, he’d be allowed in the door. Of course when hostesses realized who he was, he’d probably be promptly escorted out of any respectable house.

  He hadn’t run Price to ground yet, but he would. Once they crossed paths, he wasn’t sure what he intended. Would he merely beat Price to a pulp? Or was he planning to commit murder? Would he duel again? Would he try—as he had with Henley—to simply maim his opponent? Or would he aim a little better to obtain the satisfaction he was seeking?

  Any ending seemed likely.

  For most of a decade, he’d tamped down the least spurt of emotion, but for some reason Abigail Henley had ripped the lid off a boiling pot of fury. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been so incensed, and it felt quite grand to be livid and eager to lash out. Maybe if he delivered a few well-placed rounds into a scoundrel who thoroughly deserved to be shot, he’d finally calm down.

  He couldn’t figure out why he was so enraged. Miss Henley certainly wasn’t worth the upset that was rocking him. He’d been an idiot to propose to her and was glad he’d come to his senses before he’d proceeded to folly. He wasn’t interested in being a husband ever again, and he wouldn’t wed merely to inherit a pot of money. What had he been thinking?

  He’d pushed her away—as she’d deserved to be pushed—and he was relieved that he had. So why was he in such a temper?

  Nor could he deduce why he was so concerned about Faith and Price. Though he and Faith were tepidly cordial, he’d never been much of a brother to her so why grow so irate on her behalf? Without a doubt, she wouldn’t want him fighting over her with Price. She’d never thank him or be grateful.

  Unfortunately, he was beside himself with aggravation, and he blamed his teeming emotions on a myriad of characters who had mucked up his life: his parents, his ex-wife, Hayden Henley, Abigail Henley, the twins, Faith and her brother, Trevor. Before he was through, he thought he might ignite the whole world with his wrath.

  He picked up the note on the dressing table that had arrived earlier in the afternoon. It was from Price.

  I heard you’re looking for me and that you’re very angry. We should talk, but first you have to swear you won’t go off half-cocked.

  Alex crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the fire, watching as it burned to ash. Then he returned to the mirror and the cravat.

  He gave up on tying it himself and summoned the footman who was hovering in the hall. In a few minutes, he was in dapper shape and prepared to leave.

  He’d been inquiring about Price all over town and had several good ideas on where he’d be found. His old friend couldn’t hide forever. What would transpire when they met face to face? He couldn’t guess.

  A servant knocked, and he called, “Yes, what is it?”

  The butler poked his nose in. “You have a visitor, Mr. Wallace.”

  He raised a brow. Would Price have the audacity to show himself in Alex’s residence? Was he that brazen? That brave? No, but still Alex said, “Might I hope it’s Lord Pendergast?”

  “No, sir. It’s your sister.”

  “Winifred? Why isn’t she at school? Has something happened?”

  The butler shook his head. “It’s your other sister, sir. Faith Wallace.”

  “Why would she be here? Is it problems at home?”

  “I didn’t question her, but she asked to speak with you at once.”

  A muscle ticked in his cheek. He was about to walk out the door to search for Price so he didn’t have the patience to deal with her. What could have brought her scurrying to the city? He had a sneaking suspicion he knew the answer.

  Again, he was forced to accept that there were spies in his household, and he supposed—after all the drama was concluded—he would have to make some changes.

  Had the servants been gossiping about him? Had one of them written to Faith? If they thought she could pacify him, they were deluded.

  He glared at the butler, trying to cow him into a confession, but he blandly stared back.

  “If I learn a servant has been tattling about me to my family,” he warned, “someone is about to lose his job.”

  “The staff is incredibly loyal,” the butler coolly said, “so I can’t imagine what you mean. Will you see her? Or should I tell her you’re out?”

  “Yes
, I’ll bloody well see her.”

  He marched out and down the stairs. She was in the front parlor, lounged on the sofa and drinking a glass of wine.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded as he stormed in.

  She studied him, assessing his formal clothes, his buffed shoes and pomaded hair. “Are you going out for the evening?”

  “Yes, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “By any chance, are you expecting to stumble on Lord Pendergast?”

  “What if I am?” he snidely asked.

  He was surly as a bear and in no mood to spar with her, but she seemed determined to bicker. She downed her wine in a long gulp, then stood and sauntered over to him.

  “You will not hunt for Lord Pendergast,” she sternly commanded. “I forbid it.”

  “It’s not up to you.”

  “Will you kill him? Or will you just wound him as you did Lord Henley?”

  “That’s not any of your business either.”

  She snorted with disgust. “Would you please clarify what has fueled this misplaced spurt of rage? Aren’t you the man who’s never angry? Aren’t you the man who doesn’t care about anything?”

  “Well, I care about this. I won’t allow Price to insult me in my own home.”

  “Oh, I get it,” she smoothly stated. “This is about you. It’s not about me and the fact that I was so in love I’m dying with the loss of it. This is about you and how your rude, lazy, aristocratic friend behaved in a manner you don’t like.”

  “It is about you!” he shouted. “I won’t let him treat you this way.”

  “He already has, Alex. He trifled with me and ruined me, and it’s over. It’s too late to fly into a snit.”

  “If you think I’m merely in a snit, you have no clue as to what’s occurring.”

  “In my twenty-five years of living, you’ve never wasted two seconds worrying about my condition. Now all of a sudden, you’re eager to commit murder because of me. You’re being perfectly ridiculous.”

  He wagged a finger at her. “Don’t you dare claim I’ve never worried about you.”

  “I’m not claiming it. I’m flat out saying it to your face, and I insist you stop being an idiot.”

  “When I entered the room, I asked what you were doing here, and you haven’t answered. Why are you in London? Did the servants contact you? Are they gossiping behind my back?”

  “Yes, and don’t act all surprised. We’re all concerned about you—even if you constantly pretend we aren’t.” Her temper was sparking too. “I have been in love with Lord Pendergast since I was a girl.”

  “You have not,” he scoffed.

  “I have, and you know so little about me that you never realized it. We were so close we’d talked about eloping. We would have moved to Spain and rented a cottage on the beach. We were planning on it, and we would have been so happy.”

  “You were planning on it,” he chided. “Not him. If you’d bothered to confide in me, I could have explained that he would never have run away with you.”

  “I admit it. I was gullible and stupid, but it’s my heart that’s broken. Not yours, and I won’t have you raising a big stink and shaming both of us. Most especially, I will not have you brawling with Price Pendergast. How can you win such a fight?”

  “I might not win it, but it will certainly make me feel better.”

  “So what is your ploy, Alex? Will you shoot him dead?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “Or maybe you’ll simply beat the hell out of him and destroy some of his annoying beauty.”

  “I’d settle for that.”

  She leaned in so they were nose to nose, and she hissed, “You will not do this!”

  “I will.”

  “If you want to do something important, something that matters, change your clothes, then ride for Wallace Downs as fast as you can.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because people there need you—and your presence here is not necessary.”

  “Who needs me at home? Name one person.”

  “How about Abigail? How about the twins? Have you considered the quandary you’ve created for all of them?”

  “Abigail Henley was parading about my property, hiding her identity and flashing a pretty smile. I’ve chased her away, and you’re blaming me for the debacle?”

  “Yes, Alex, I’m absolutely blaming you. You proposed marriage to her!”

  “I shouldn’t have,” he caustically spat.

  “No, you shouldn’t have, and I warned you to investigate her. But you wouldn’t listen, and you blustered ahead. You have many traits I can’t abide, Alex, but you’re not fickle or unreliable. You have to fix this.”

  He stared at her, thinking how brave she was to have come.

  Camilla had thrown up her hands and left. The servants were tiptoeing in circles, avoiding him and staying out of his way. Only Faith had been bold enough to confront him.

  He couldn’t think straight about Abigail. When he pondered how she’d tricked him, he wanted to smash his fist into the wall. He was livid over her deception which made no sense.

  She’d swept into his life and altered everything. He’d been desperate to shackle her to his side so he would never return to being the wretch he’d been prior to her arrival. It was the worst part of learning who she was. He’d needed her so urgently, and he couldn’t bear that the future had collapsed before it could begin.

  “I can’t mend this with her, Faith,” he quietly said. “Not when she’s Henley’s sister. If she was anyone else, perhaps I could, but not when she’s a Henley.”

  “Fine, you don’t care about her. What about the twins? Will you separate them from her? They love her, Alex! Why be cruel to them? Haven’t they suffered enough in their short lives?”

  “I’ll…I’ll…hire another governess for them. I’ll supervise their upbringing myself so Camilla isn’t burdened with them. I promise their condition will improve.”

  “That’s your solution? You’ll keep Camilla away from them, and you’ll hire a new governess?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sending Abigail away from them! How will you ever make that right?”

  “I don’t know, and at the moment I can’t worry about it.”

  “Why? Are you too busy?”

  “Yes, Faith. I’m busy, and you should go home.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Alex, night is falling. I’m not traveling to the country in the dark.”

  “You’re welcome to remain, but Camilla is here too.”

  “I’ll survive until morning. Then I’ll leave. I’d like to spend these last few days with Abigail. At least one of us will be bereft over her departure.”

  She started out, and he felt like the loneliest man in the world.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  “For what? For being an ass? For being a prick? For being an unlikeable prig?”

  “Yes, for all of those things.”

  “Don’t fight with Price,” she implored. “I’m not worth it.”

  “I think you are.”

  “If that’s what you believe, you’re deranged.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “If you shoot him, you’ll be arrested.”

  “If they catch me.”

  “Is that your plan? You’ll try not to be caught?”

  “What would you have me say, Faith? I can’t explain it so you’ll understand.”

  “I understand all right. You’re laboring under an odd delusion that my chastity—or my surrendering of it—is your business. It’s not and I’m not.”

  “I disagree. You’re my sister, and I realize I’ve never been the brother you deserved, but Price doesn’t get to treat you like this without consequence.”

  She blew out a heavy breath. “My affair with him is over, Alex. Why can’t you accept that it is?”

  “I just can’t.” />
  “If you kill him, if you so much as harm a hair on his beautiful head, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “I don’t want to be forgiven.”

  “Gad, you’ve gone stark raving mad, haven’t you?” There was disgust and pity in her eyes. “Ride to Wallace Downs, Alex, on your fastest horse. Fall to your knees and apologize to Abigail. Tell her you weren’t serious. Marry her and live happily ever after.”

  “It’s not my destiny, Faith.”

  “What is then? Is it murdering Lord Pendergast and being hanged?”

  “It wouldn’t be the worst ending,” he stoically muttered.

  “Don’t you ever say that to me again.” She walked over, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and shook him. “Don’t you ever say that!”

  “I won’t.”

  “There’s no way I can dissuade you, is there?”

  “No.”

  “You ass! You’re so sure you’ll kill Lord Pendergast. What if you’re wrong? What if he kills you instead? Then where will I be?”

  He hadn’t reflected on that possibility, hadn’t considered that the conclusion might be different from what he’d envisioned.

  “Price could never slay me. He’s too lazy and too slow.”

  “Don’t do this, Alex. I’m begging you.”

  “Begging is pointless, Faith.” He pulled her hands from his coat and eased her away. “Now have the butler locate the housekeeper. She’ll get you settled, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

  “If you’re not dead.”

  “I won’t be dead. I swear.”

  “What if you’re arrested?”

  “I’ll send a message. Camilla knows how to contact my lawyer so he can post my bail.”

  “Oh, for bloody’s sake. You are deranged.”

  She whipped away and stomped to the stairs, calling for the butler, calling for the housekeeper.

  Alex strolled out the door into the cold, quiet night and whatever was in store for him there.

  * * * *

  Abigail was sitting in the front parlor when she heard a carriage out in the drive. It was late in the evening, the twins in bed, so it was odd to have someone arriving. The cottage was off the main road, and they never had visitors, especially not after dark. She tiptoed over and peeked out the window, watching as it rattled to a stop.