Forever Yours (The Forever Series #1)

by Cheryl Holt

  “Hold on, hold on,” she grumbled. “I have money in my bag.”

  She bent down to retrieve it, but when she reached inside her purse wasn’t there. She frowned and rummaged around, then emptied the contents onto the table. She pushed back her chair and checked the floor—to no avail.

  In a state of shock, she remembered Mrs. Pennywhistle dropping her reticule. She’d crouched down to pick it up, then she’d whispered that bizarre comment about Miss Robertson. In that quick second, would she have…could she have…

  Abigail cringed with mortification. Had Mrs. Pennywhistle stolen it? “I seem to have lost my purse.”

  “Of course you have,” he scoffed.

  The serving girl murmured in his ear, then he turned his angry glower on Abigail. “Is this a scam, Miss?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re fully cognizant of Mr. and Mrs. Pennywhistle’s antics, and I’m assuming you’re exactly like them. You’ve arrived with two pretty children to distract us. You’re hoping I’ll ignore this situation. You have no money—as Mr. and Mrs. Pennywhistle never have any—and you think I’ll give you this food for free.”

  “I had my purse!” Abigail insisted. “I simply don’t know what happened to it.”

  “Well, I do,” he fumed. “Mrs. Pennywhistle left with it. My serving girl saw her.”

  “Why didn’t you speak up?” Abigail asked the girl.

  She and the proprietor didn’t answer, but they glared at Abigail as if she were a criminal.

  “I can pay,” Abigail declared, although all of the funds supplied by Miss Robertson had been tucked into it. She’d been too afraid to leave it at the boarding house. “I can pay. I can!”

  “A likely story,” the man muttered.

  “I have to…ah…run to my room. We’re renting down the street.”

  “You’re not going anywhere, Miss,” he firmly commanded. “You’re staying right here—while I summon the law. It’s a felony to defraud an innkeeper. Are you aware of that?”

  “I’m not defrauding anyone!”

  But a burly oaf came out from the kitchen and stood next to her to keep her from flitting out like the thief they deemed her to be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Abigail sat on a bench by the prison gate, waiting for it to open so she could leave. There were lines of people trying to get inside to bring in blankets or food or simply to visit their incarcerated relatives. She was one of the few about to depart, and it couldn’t happen soon enough. She’d never been so angry or so mortified.

  After the humiliating ordeal at the restaurant, she and the twins had been arrested. The proprietor had sworn out an affidavit that she’d been in league with Mrs. Pennywhistle and using Mary and Millie to perpetrate a scheme so they could eat for free. Abigail had insisted it wasn’t true, but no one would listen.

  Luckily, a benevolent preacher who worked with the downtrodden in the jail had assisted her by writing letters to her cousin, Jasper, at Middlebury and Faith at Wallace Downs. Evidently, their message had been received because someone had acted on their behalf. Their bail had been posted so they were about to be released. She couldn’t guess who had rushed to her aid, but she was praying it was Faith.

  It had been a tremendous degradation to contact Jasper. He and his wife, Desdemona, would snicker and scoff at her tribulations, but despite how amused they’d be she didn’t suppose Jasper would let her languish in jail. He was a vain, egotistical prig, but he wouldn’t want that.

  Would he?

  Their names were called, and a guard motioned for them to approach the gate. He pried it open and shoved them out. In a quick instant, they were on the street, and they trudged down the block to where the crowd began to thin.

  She stopped and leaned against the brick wall of a building, and her knees were so shaky that she slid down onto the sidewalk. She was disorientated and overwhelmed and completely confused as to how they should proceed.

  Their torment was over, and tears dripped down her cheeks. She’d paid a month of rent at the boarding house so their first step had to be to return there so they could wash and regroup. Then what? She had a bit of savings from her years of employment so they wouldn’t starve, but the money wouldn’t last long.

  Should they walk to Wallace Downs so she could surrender the twins to Alex? Was that the best plan? How many days would it take to arrive?

  “Don’t cry, Aunt Abigail,” Mary said, and both girls appeared stricken. They squatted down and clasped hold of her hands.

  “We’re out of that terrible place,” Millie said. “We should be happy.”

  “Yes, it’s silly to be upset now that we’re out.” Abigail swiped at her cheeks. “I’m just tired.”

  “What shall we do? Mary asked.

  “I thought someone would meet us. I was hoping it would be Faith.”

  “Or your cousin, Lord Middlebury?”

  “Well, I didn’t imagine he would come himself, but he might send a servant to fetch us.” Abigail mustered her fortitude and pushed herself to her feet. “Let’s look around. There are so many people. Perhaps Faith is here, but we simply didn’t see her.”

  They searched, standing very close and determined not to be separated, but Abigail was distracted, only able to ponder how pathetic she’d been as a protector. She’d been tricked and swindled and deceived.

  In her own defense, she hadn’t ever had to deal with the likes of Camilla Robertson or Eugenia Pennywhistle. She recognized there were cunning criminals out there, but she’d never personally encountered such sly, wicked deviants. How could she have been expected to be wary?

  When Alex Wallace learned of her folly with his wards, what would he think? Surely, he wouldn’t dare leave them with her. What sane guardian would allow her to have custody?

  It was time to admit that she had no ability to succeed out in the larger world. She had little aptitude to take care of herself, let alone anyone else, especially two vulnerable children.

  They’d be better off at Faith’s cottage. At least they’d have food to eat and a bed to sleep in. Then Abigail would vanish and never visit them in the future. They’d be safer that way.

  They rounded a corner, and she saw the greatest sight she would likely ever see. Alex and Faith Wallace were hurrying toward them, and Abigail had never been more relieved.

  “Mr. Wallace! Mr. Wallace!” the girls shouted with joy.

  They abandoned Abigail and raced over to him. He knelt down, and they fell onto him, almost knocking him over with gladness. He swept them up and stood, one in each arm, and he twirled in a circle while they hugged him so tightly Abigail didn’t know how he could breathe.

  “Abigail!” Faith dashed over. “Oh, my goodness. We came as fast as we could.”

  Abigail started to cry again. She didn’t mean to or want to. Inside the facility, she’d resolved not to scare the twins so she’d tamped down her fears, had kept her emotions bottled up. But she was just an ordinary woman who’d always tried to live decently and morally. She couldn’t begin to cope with what had been done to them.

  What if the Wallace siblings hadn’t come for her? What if they hadn’t helped? Who would have?

  Life was hard, and there were so few rewards. What would become of her? She’d been raised in a boisterous, loving family, and she hated being on her own, with no one to fuss over her, no one to pay attention. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

  Faith wrapped her arms around Abigail, and she was so thankful she nearly collapsed. It had been so long since she’d had a true friend. Faith was strong and independent. She’d assist Abigail. She’d mend the disaster Abigail had caused.

  Alex approached, but she scarcely noticed. He was still holding the twins, and they weren’t small anymore. How did he find the strength? But then, if he’d attempted to put them down it didn’t look as if they’d let him.

  “You’re in a sorry condition, Abigail,” he murmu
red.

  “Yes, I am.” She bit down a sob. “It was so awful in there. We weren’t permitted to wash, and we were only fed a few times. Mary and Millie are starving.”

  “And you too, I imagine.”

  “Yes, me too.”

  “I’ve been in jail before so I understand.”

  “I apologize.”

  He frowned. “For what?”

  “I didn’t take care of them. I swore I would, and I promised I’d never bother you again, but I’ve broken my word already. I’m just so sorry for everything.”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” she was grateful to hear him say. He gestured down the block. “Let’s get you to my carriage, and we’ll go home. Matters won’t seem quite so grim once you’ve rested.”

  “Can you make it, Abigail?” Faith asked. “Can you walk to the carriage?”

  “Yes, yes, I can walk. I don’t want to tarry here another second.”

  They tottered off, and Faith was clutching Abigail’s hand so tightly her bones ached. Alex went on ahead, carrying the girls, and Abigail and Faith staggered after him.

  Mary and Millie popped up over his shoulder, and they gazed at Abigail with kind, ancient eyes as if they’d seen it all in their young lives and nothing surprised them.

  “There’s no need to fret, Aunt Abigail,” Millie said. “Mr. Wallace will fix what’s wrong. He’s very good at that.”

  “Yes, he is,” Abigail agreed, but there could be no beneficial end for her.

  He would retain custody. He’d have to. He would send her away from them—with no money or job or family to offer shelter.

  She stared at the twins, filling her memory with the sight of their pretty faces so she would never forget.

  * * * *

  Camilla strolled into the foyer of Alex’s town house. The butler wasn’t there to greet her. Nor were any of the servants which was irksome. She yanked off her cloak and bonnet and tossed them on a chair, then she headed for the stairs.

  It had been a whirlwind of days. Alex had fought with Price, had been arrested and incarcerated. Then, without warning, he’d been released, but she’d been shopping when he’d arrived. With no dawdling, he’d proceeded directly to Wallace Downs without waiting for her to accompany him.

  She’d written a note to tell him she’d be there shortly too, but she hadn’t received a reply. Yet why shouldn’t she join him? When she’d initially huffed off to town, it had been because of his obsession with the governess. But Miss Henley was gone, Alex was out of jail, and all was right with the world.

  She’d purchased some new lingerie, and she would put it to good use once she was at the manor. Lately, their sexual relationship had grown tepid and lackluster, and it was a situation she intended to rectify.

  Suddenly, her maid hustled down the hall, and she was motioning to Camilla and so anxious that Camilla was instantly on guard. The girl was an excellent spy, the first to learn any important information. Was Alex ill? Had he suffered an accident? Was there more legal trouble?

  “What is it?” Camilla asked. “What’s happened?”

  “You won’t believe it! Master Alex is here. Miss Faith too.”

  Camilla bristled with irritation. Faith rarely traveled to town, and if Alex was back she wanted him all to herself. She had no desire to entertain Faith or to have her meddling in their fun.

  The maid was practically jumping up and down with excitement. “And guess what else?”

  “What?”

  “The governess and the twins came with them.”

  Camilla froze. “What? I could have sworn you told me the governess and the twins are here.”

  “Yes, yes, Mr. Wallace brought them in a few hours ago. I haven’t discovered precisely what occurred, but they’d encountered some difficulties. They were filthy and hungry.”

  “Are they upstairs?”

  “Yes. They’re bathing, and I just took up food trays.”

  Camilla’s mind was racing as she struggled to unravel the news.

  How had Alex found Miss Henley so quickly? She’d vowed to never contact him again. Why had she? What might the little shrew have confided to him? Of course she’d have painted Camilla in the very worst light, and she hadn’t been in the room to defend herself. What would Alex’s reaction be? Usually, he was very even-tempered, but anymore she couldn’t predict his moods.

  He’d likely quiz her about the debacle so how should she play her cards? Should she pretend no knowledge of Miss Henley’s circumstances? Should she seize the offensive and call Miss Henley a hysterical liar?

  She felt as if she was tiptoeing across a murky bog where the least wrong move would have her plunging into the abyss. She would be delighted to clarify how she’d rid them of Miss Henley for his benefit. But if he was angry, would he give her a chance to explain?

  She might have peppered her maid with questions, but footsteps sounded on the stairs. She glanced up, and Faith was on the landing, her expression disdainful and condemning.

  “Where have you been?” Faith demanded. “We’ve been waiting for you forever.”

  Camilla nearly responded with a snide comment, but she tamped it down. “Hello to you too, Faith. Why are you in London? To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

  “Alex is in his library. You have to talk to him. Now.”

  “I’ve only just returned. I’ll need to wash and freshen up so I’m a bit more presentable.”

  “You can’t come up.”

  “Don’t be annoying, Faith. I’m too weary to fuss with you.”

  From down the hall, Alex said, “Camilla, would you join me?”

  He was standing at the library door, looking stoic and resigned.

  She smiled at him, trying to convey that all was fine. “I was planning to change my clothes, but if you insist I’m happy to attend you.”

  “I insist.” He spun away and went into the room.

  She glared up at Faith, her dislike oozing out. Faith was a trembling ninny who’d never gone anywhere or done anything. Yet she had the audacity to judge Camilla for embracing the wider world, for reaching out and grabbing what she craved. Camilla had had a broad and satisfying life. What had Faith ever had?

  Bracing herself, she marched off, her temper flaring. For years, she’d been Alex’s staunchest ally. When she’d stumbled on him in Italy, he’d been a wandering nomad who hadn’t had a friend to his name.

  She had been his friend, and she’d stood by him through thick and thin. She wouldn’t let a silly incident with a servant interfere in their relationship, and she was certain he wouldn’t either. No matter what, the bloody girl was not staying at Wallace Downs. Governesses were a penny a dozen, and on that issue Camilla would be adamant.

  As she entered, he was seated behind the desk and drinking a whiskey. He’d placed a chair across from him as if she was to sit in it and be scolded. Well, if he thought he could intimidate or shame her, he’d forgotten how tough she could be.

  She waltzed over to the sideboard and poured herself a brandy, then she sat in the chair. She casually sipped her liquor, and she blandly stared, visually apprising him that she wouldn’t be cowed.

  “What is it?” she eventually asked. “And might I first say I’m thrilled that you’re looking so hale and composed. You left town so quickly we didn’t have an opportunity to chat.”

  “Yes, it was wonderful to see how you were pacing and pining away over my plight.”

  “I met with your lawyer on three occasions. Price’s father had put a hold on your arrest so we couldn’t post your bail.”

  He sipped his libation too, and he was studying her in an odd way. He might have been observing a stranger, as if he couldn’t figure out how she’d wound up in his library.

  “You’re upset, darling,” she said. “How can I make you feel better?”

  “Tell me what you did to Miss Henley.”

  A vigorous offense seemed best. “I didn’t do a
nything to her. If she claimed as much, she’s lying.”

  His focus narrowed and grew more intense. “All right, then tell me what you did to the twins.”

  “Honestly, Alex, why must I endure an inquisition? If there’s a dilemma vexing you, spit it out. Otherwise, I’d like to delay this conversation so I can take a bath. I’ve been shopping for hours, and I’m tired.”

  “I’ve known you a long time, Camilla. We’ve been friends for years.”

  “Yes, we have been so I don’t deserve to be reprimanded as if I’m a child who’s misbehaved.”

  He filled his glass and kicked back the liquor, shuddering slightly as he swallowed it down. “I’ll give you one chance to explain yourself.”

  “Explain myself!”

  “Yes, one chance—because I have been fond of you. But your candid answer to my question will determine how I proceed.”

  “How you’ll proceed?” She snorted with amusement. “Why? Will you beat me? Will you send me to bed without my supper? What?”

  “Don’t push me, Camilla. Just admit your treachery. Let me hear your version of it. I’m sure you were thinking—in that convoluted mind of yours—that you were helping me.” He leaned forward and hissed, “Tell me what you did!”

  At his sharp tone, she jumped. Obviously, he couldn’t be cajoled so she changed tactics. “I simply had her depart a few days early. For pity’s sake, you’re acting as if I murdered her. You ordered her gone by Sunday, and I hurried her along. You were very distraught about Price, and I knew you’d want some peace and quiet when you returned home.”

  “That’s your story?”

  “It’s not a story. I asked her to leave early, and she left.”

  “She took the twins. Would you care to clarify how that came about?”

  “She absconded with the twins?” Camilla huffed. “What gall! She’s aware you’re their guardian, and she’d need your permission.”

  “You didn’t visit her at the cottage? You didn’t inform her it was my specific wish that she have them? You didn’t give her traveling money or hire a coach to convey them to town?”