by Merry Farmer
“It’s only me,” Angeline’s voice sounded in return. A moment later, his sweet sister pushed open the door and slipped inside—or rather, slipped as much as she could with her round belly. As soon as she clicked the door shut again and crossed the room to Avery, she said, “Oh dear. I see things are bad.” She nodded to the knitting behind his back. “You only ever bring your scandalous hobby out of the house when you are very distressed indeed.”
“I never—” Avery began to protest, then blew out a breath and took his knitting out from behind his back. It was ridiculous of him to think he could hide it anyhow, since the ball of yarn sat on the vicar’s table and the free end connected to the muffler behind his back. He set the whole piece on the table, sighed heavily, then confessed to Angeline, “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Angeline’s brow flew up, and she rested her hands on her belly. “By marrying Miss Sperrin?”
Avery’s eyes went wide. “No! Of course not. Marrying Maeve will be the wisest thing I’ve ever done. I’m too old to continue faffing about, getting into trouble and only keeping company with loose women. Maeve is the most wonderful creature to ever walk the earth, and I am proud to be marrying her.”
Angeline looked both startled and puzzled over his speech and the vehemence with which he’d delivered it. “Then where is the mistake?”
Avery’s shoulders dropped. “I never should have suggested that Miss Woodmont marry Mr. O’Donnell.”
Angeline didn’t answer with words, but the way she pressed her lips together and gave him one of her rare disdainful looks was all the answer Avery needed.
“Now that I have her, it would kill me to let Maeve go,” he defended himself. “In a short time, she has become the light in my world and the blood in my veins. And that is why I sought out the first man I could find who would be willing to marry Miss Woodmont on short notice.”
Angeline was still silent, but she arched one eyebrow while rubbing a hand slowly across her stomach.
“He isn’t the worst match Miss Woodmont could find,” Avery went on, arguing with himself now as much as attempting to justify his position to his sister. “He is everything I said he was before. He has a thriving business, he has done well for himself, and he is not yet old and decrepit. Many young ladies would consider him to be a catch.”
“Many would,” Angeline said, hesitation heavy in her voice.
“But not Miss Woodmont.” Avery puffed out a breath and pushed his fingers through his hair—which was an unwise move, considering it had already been styled for the wedding and contained a great deal more pomade than he was used to wearing. He peeled off to the vicar’s table, wiping his hand on a handkerchief that had been discarded there, then using the vicar’s comb to straighten his hair. “I’m not certain why she even accepted the man’s offer,” he went on, looking at Angeline through the mirror.
“Because she loves her friend, Avery,” Angeline said as though it were obvious. “Miss Woodmont knows that Miss Sperrin wanted to call off the wedding so that she could remain loyal to her, but because she is just as loyal, she wouldn’t let that happen. Miss Woodmont has been willing to sacrifice herself for her friend’s happiness.”
Avery finished with his hair and turned to Angeline, his shoulders drooping yet again. “I am beginning to see that ladies are by far the nobler sex,” he said. “This whole time, I have been thinking only of the happiness of a few, but I can see now that you precious creatures are so much more capable of thinking of the happiness and welfare of many.”
He crossed the room to grasp Angeline’s arms and to kiss her forehead.
“I do think you’ve created a muddle,” Angeline said.
She opened her mouth to continue, but the vestry door opened at that moment and the vicar stepped in.
“Oh!” the man exclaimed with a start. “I beg your pardon, my lord. Only, it’s nearly time. The guests are pouring in, and I need to don my vestments.”
“We’ll be out of your hair in just a moment,” Avery said, maneuvering himself and Angeline to one side of the room as the vicar crossed to the wardrobe where, presumably, his vestments were kept. Avery ignored him, appealing to Angeline. “What can I do to remedy this?” he asked in a near whisper.
“I am unconvinced that you can remedy it,” Angeline replied in an equally soft whisper. “Miss Woodmont has made her choice.”
“But I hate the notion that I have caused someone to enter into a situation that has the potential to ruin their life,” Avery said.
Angeline laughed, though Avery wasn’t certain he deserved that when he was trying so hard to be noble and to right a wrong. “Men are such fussy creatures,” she said, beaming up at him with the sort of love only a sister could have. “You have had your heads turned with the idea that it is your responsibility to guide and steer the world. But the truth is that we all make our own decisions, and when we come to our eternal rest, it is only our own choices and not the choices of others that we will be held accountable for. And frankly,” she added as Avery opened his mouth to protest, “I believe that is a grand thing. The Almighty will not hold Miss Woodmont’s unfortunate circumstances against her, only the choices she made in trying to mitigate those circumstances.”
Avery closed his mouth and blinked at her. He couldn’t help but smile. “Did that silly Miss Twittingham teach you that in her finishing school, or are you just naturally a fount of wisdom and goodness?”
Angeline laughed. “Papa taught me that,” she said, growing somber. “In those final years we spent together before he went on to his heavenly reward.”
Avery’s chest squeezed at those words. He had loved his father dearly, and losing him had been a difficult blow. He had wondered every day since then if he was living up to the man’s legacy and if his father would have approved of his choices in life.
He couldn’t do it. He decided that much then and there. He couldn’t let Miss Woodmont marry a boor like O’Donnell just so that he could have Maeve. He wouldn’t have Maeve’s life tainted by a sadness that could have been prevented. There had to be another choice before them.
“I think I need to—”
That was as far as he got before the vestry door flew open, banging against the wall, and a stunningly beautiful but thoroughly distraught Maeve dashed into the room. For a moment, Avery’s breath left his lungs at how lovely Maeve was in her white wedding dress, a crown of flowers in her hair, her cheeks pink and her eyes flashing. But as soon as he realized her color was because she was deeply alarmed, his heart stopped.
“Avery, you must come at once,” Maeve panted, crossing the room to grab his hand and drag him toward the door. “Mr. O’Donnell has found out about Ryan.”
Dread clenched Avery’s gut as he picked up his pace, bursting from the vestry onto the chancel, then down the aisle at the side and into the rows of pews. Maeve was right, but not only had O’Donnell clearly found out about Ryan, he seemed determined to let everyone else in Ballymena know as well.
“…a woman as devious as you,” he was in the middle of railing at Miss Woodmont as the two of them stood at the back of the sanctuary…along with more than two dozen of Ballymena’s finest citizens. “You, madame, are a liar and a witch. I wouldn’t have suspected a thing if a well-meaning maid hadn’t whispered the truth in my ear just this morning. How you could even think that a man of my respectability and standards would stoop so low as to marry a common whore with a bastard child clinging to her well-fondled breasts is beyond me.”
Deep gasps and even a few cries of shock sounded from the congregants watching O’Donnell berate Miss Woodmont. Fury shot through Avery, not only at O’Donnell, but for the fact that those watching his horrible set-down looked as though they were enjoying the scene as rogues might enjoy a cock-fight.
“What is the meaning of this?” Avery roared, charging up the aisle and causing everyone who stood in the way to leap aside and take cover in one of the pews. “How dare you speak to Miss Woodmont in such a
n underhanded manner?”
The people in the aisle weren’t the only ones who backed out of the way. Everyone else—including a few young men who had stood on the back pews to get a better view—scuttled away as though they were rats in a cellar and Avery carried a torch. O’Donnell didn’t seem to be deterred, though.
“My lord,” he said, stiffening his back and glaring at Avery, “I have a great deal of respect for the upper classes, but you are a devil indeed to have attempted to foist these used goods off on me.”
As Avery came to a stop only a few feet from O’Donnell, Maeve rushed on, throwing her arms around Miss Woodmont as though she intended to protect her from a blast. Miss Woodmont was pale and her eyes were wide and red-rimmed. However long O’Donnell’s tirade had gone on before he’d interrupted it, it had deeply affected the poor woman. She looked to be on the verge of either fainting or sobbing, which was not the Miss Woodmont Avery knew at all.
Which was why Avery pulled no punches when he turned to O’Donnell and raged, “How dare you hurl these sorts of accusations at a woman in public. I was grossly mistaken when I believed your character to be unimpeachable and your manners genteel.”
“You were grossly mistaken, my lord?” O’Donnell puffed up indignantly. He threw an accusatory hand out to Miss Woodmont. “This woman has a child out of wedlock, a fact which you concealed from me, I might add.”
“Avery,” Maeve hissed, frowning at him. “You didn’t tell Mr. O’Donnell about Ryan when you investigated his willingness to marry Alice?”
A rush of awkward prickles shot down Avery’s spine. He supposed that was another mistake he’d made in his rush to ensure Maeve would go through with their wedding. He’d assumed Miss Woodmont and O’Donnell would work out that tiny detail on their own. But beyond that, whether she was aware of it or not, Maeve had just inadvertently confirmed everything O’Donnell had hurled at Miss Woodmont to the crowd of spectators. There might have been a way they could deny O’Donnell’s accusations, but not now.
Sure enough, Lady Coyle, of all people, stepped forward from the onlookers, her face pinched as though she scented something foul, and asked, “Is it true?”
All eyes were on Miss Woodmont’s lowered head at first. The confused—and too eager—onlookers murmured and whispered to each other, looking to Maeve for further confirmation as well. When neither woman said a word, their eager attention turned to Mr. and Mrs. Woodmont.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Woodmont wailed as the crowd parted to single them out as well. “I…that is…we didn’t….” The woman pivoted to her husband, grabbed his sleeve, and shook him. “Do something Harold,” she hissed.
Mr. Woodmont tilted his chin up and stared down his nose at his daughter. “We have been deceived by this wicked harlot long enough,” he said, instantly causing Avery to want to pound the man into the ground. “She hid her evils from us until she couldn’t any longer, and then she manipulated us into letting her keep the bastard close. But no more.”
Mr. Woodmont narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “You have embarrassed us enough in front of our friends and the good people of Ballymena. From this day forward, you are no longer any child of mine. You will not return to our house or take anything more from us, and your name will be struck from our family Bible. We are done with you and your bastard.”
The congregation gasped as Mr. Woodmont grabbed his wife’s hand and turned his back on Miss Woodmont. The two of them walked away, though they had to proceed down the aisle for a few pews, then cut across and exit through a side door, which gave them the appearance of sneaking off ignominiously instead of keeping their heads high.
The crowd didn’t seem to know what to do. Hushed silence filled the space left by the Woodmonts’ departure.
At least until O’Donnell cleared his throat and said, “I want nothing more to do with this trollop either, or anyone who would stand up for her.” He glanced to Avery. “I do not care how high and mighty you are, my lord, I will not marry a whore simply because you say so.”
“Alice is not a whore,” Maeve shouted with sudden vehemence, starling the eager onlookers. “She is a good and loyal woman who was done a great wrong by a wicked man. And why are none of you demanding to know the name of the man who lured her with false promises and disgraced her? Why do you simply assume that Alice is the one to blame when she was, in fact, the one who was treated abominably?”
“I can second that,” Rory spoke up from the edge of the pack of onlookers, all of whom turned to him. He took a small step forward and said, “My brother was the blackguard in question, and I can guarantee to you that he was absolutely the villain in Miss Woodmont’s unfortunate situation. His behavior toward her was so egregious that, you will notice, he was forced to flee the country because of it. And now he rots in prison. Any one of you who holds Miss Woodmont to blame for my brother’s actions is no better than the arse himself.”
Another, deep hush fell over the church as those words sank in. For one, glorious moment, Avery was convinced they might actually win people back to Miss Woodmont’s side.
Until Lady Coyle made a snorting sound and said, “Are you suggesting that we all cast aside everything we know about the sinful ways of sirens? Are you suggesting that we accept a woman who allowed herself to be debauched, and her bastard as well, simply because you have made some sort of a pretty speech and attempted to cast the blame elsewhere?” Too many of the people watching nodded as though they agreed with Lady Coyle. “Everyone knows that it is a woman’s stalwart duty to defend her virginity, to the death if possible.”
Maeve’s jaw dropped. “Lady Coyle, are you saying that Alice should have died rather than fallen in love and allowed herself to be seduced.”
Lady Coyle blinked at Maeve as though she had gone mad. “Yes,” she said with a shrug, as though it were obvious. “Nothing is so precious or so fragile as a woman’s virtue. Miss Woodmont should accept the natural consequences of failing to do her duty to her sex.”
Avery couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Who else among you believes that tripe?” he asked. When no one answered, he went on. “Don’t be shy. I want to see a show of hands. If you believe that a woman is nothing without her virtue, by all means, make yourselves known.”
It was unsurprising, and strangely disappointing, that so many of the people whom he had counted as friends and friendly acquaintances raised their hands to support the ridiculous notion. Worse still, he knew it was a notion that society at large claimed to support as well, though what people did in their own houses was vastly different from the what they purported to believe in public. The hypocrisy of it all set Avery’s teeth on edge, especially because he knew it was a hallmark of the age.
“Fine,” he said, nodding to those who had raised their hands. “Get out. I don’t want any of you here. If you insult my bride’s friend by reviling her, then you are no longer invited to share in our happiness today.”
When no one moved at first, Avery’s temper flared.
“Get out!” he shouted, pointing to the door. “Or do you need help getting out?”
Avery didn’t expect it, but he was delighted when Rory stepped forward with a surprisingly threatening mien, as though he were a bouncer at a pub charged with throwing out the unruly patrons. Not only Rory, but Rafe and Caelian too. And his cousins’ husbands, Christian, Benedict, and Colin—who looked excessively eager to get into a fight.
That was enough to send half the congregation running for the doors. So much that there was a jam for a moment as frightened men and women pushed to get out first. Avery couldn’t help but laugh at that.
His laughter only lasted a moment before he turned his attention on Maeve and Miss Woodmont. The two of them stood together with their arms around each other. Avery was worried that Maeve would feel their wedding was ruined, but instead she looked as though she couldn’t have imagined a better wedding day.
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes brimming with pride and victory. “Thank you for s
tanding up for Alice.”
“I will always stand up for you, Miss Woodmont,” Avery said, bowing respectfully to her. “You are precious to my bride, therefore you are precious to me.”
“You may have just done yourself a great deal of harm,” Alice said, her voice hollow. She was clearly still stunned by the whole turn of events.
“I am not in the least bit concerned,” Avery said. “In fact, I owe you an apology.”
“An apology?” Miss Woodmont blinked at him as though she were trying to pull herself out of a bad dream.
Avery sighed. “I never should have suggested you marry that oaf, O’Donnell. I have made things so much worse.”
“You were trying to make them better,” Maeve defended him.
“I was,” Avery nodded, smiling weakly at her. “I should have sought a different solution, though. Now I have caused you to be cast out by your family and by Ballymena.”
“You didn’t mean for that to happen,” Miss Woodmont said, then turned to Maeve with a terrified look. “I have no idea where I’ll go now.”
In an instant, Avery knew exactly what needed to be done. They’d touched on the idea before, but now it seemed like the ideal solution.
“You will come to London with us,” he said. “Maeve and I will provide you and Ryan with the capital you need to start a new life there. I have friends in many circles of London society, and any introductions you need will be provided. I insist.”
Miss Woodmont sucked in a breath and clutched Maeve tighter. The two of them exchanged another of their silent communications, excitement lighting their eyes for the first time in the intense scene.
“What do you say, Miss Woodmont?” Avery asked. “Will you come to London with me and my bride?”
Chapter 12
Maeve hadn’t thought it was possible to be more in love with Avery, but when he stood up for Alice in front of everyone, going so far as to throw them out of the church, her heart blossomed with adoration for him. And to suggest that Alice could accompany them to London and start a new life there? Maeve wasn’t certain her heart could take much more. Everything that could have turned into a disaster was blooming into the perfect situation for everyone.