However, she did provide the distraction Matt needed.
George jumped at the unexpected sound of her voice, and Matt charged. He hit George full-on with his body weight. Matt was younger and a bit taller, but George had the strength of madness.
They fell against Minerva in the chair, knocking her over. Both of them lost their balance. Matt grabbed George’s coat, hanging on and trying to keep as close to him as he could.
George scrambled up. He held the axe with two hands. “Let me go,” he was shouting. “Let me go or I kill her.” He was speaking of Minerva, who was on her side on the floor. He started to swing the axe.
Matt grabbed at his arm and threw him onto the ground, pinning George with his weight. Holding him down, Matt sat up and punched his cousin in the head—once, twice, and George was out, his nose bloodied.
Uncertain if George was bluffing, Matt stayed right where he was, ready to strike again—
“Your Grace?”
Matt looked up and was surprised to see the sitting room full of men carrying lamps.
And there was Willa, helping a gentleman lift Minerva, still tied to her chair, to a sitting position.
Matt started for Willa. He didn’t know if he would give her a lecture on the danger of not listening to him or kiss her silly.
She looked up at him just then—and he knew he wanted to kiss her silly.
Someone untied Minerva and took the gag from her mouth. She burst into noisy tears and held her hands out for Matt. He helped her rise. She was very shaky and he understood why. The old girl had been through a great deal this evening. He himself was exhausted.
His grandmother put her arms around him and sobbed. Matt looked to Willa for guidance. “Hold her,” she mouthed.
In all the time he had been around Minerva, she had never asked for affection, not even the simplest of hugs. He put his arms around her and felt her tension ease.
“He didn’t kill William,” she said between sobs for Matt’s ears alone. “I could have sworn he had. It’s as if I feel the pain of losing my son all over again. I can’t believe William could have just fallen off. He could ride anything.”
There it was, she focused on William and ignored her other son, his father. Or the danger they’d all just experienced.
And yet, Matt heard his father’s calm voice when he said, “Perhaps George did have a hand in it, Grandmother. I’m certain William felt the weight of being the source of the blackmail.”
“I’m certain he did.”
Willa offered a kerchief, which Minerva gratefully accepted. “I believe you should rest,” Willa suggested.
“I would like to rest,” Minerva agreed. “This has been very hard. I didn’t know George was taking me to Mayfield until we were on the road. It was as if he changed into another person. He even hit me and he said vile things. I never knew he felt that way.”
“He hid it well,” Matt answered.
On the floor, George started groaning as he returned to consciousness. Two men picked him up. Matt recognized them as his stable lads.
“I fetched them,” Willa said proudly. “I was waiting as you told me to,” she added hurriedly, “but I worried, and I thought you could use help.”
“Why didn’t they come in here instead of you? Willa, George could have murdered you.”
“But you would have stopped him,” she said with every confidence. “I knew I would be safe.”
He kissed her then. He didn’t care if they had an audience. Such trust must be rewarded.
A clearing of a throat brought Matt back to the present moment.
“Your Grace, I’m Lord Dumfries, the magistrate.”
“Yes, I remember meeting you. Thank you for coming.”
Dumfries was a slender fellow with blond graying hair. “I almost didn’t. But your letter was such that I knew I must rouse myself from my bed to see if it was true.”
“Are you disappointed?”
The magistrate looked around at the damage in the room. “I am not. However, will you tell us the story?”
“And is there a place we can lock this man up?” Squire Tarlton, who served as sheriff, asked. “I’ll have men come and pick him up in the morning.”
“Capital idea,” Matt agreed. He directed the stable lads to see that George was locked up in the grain room.
George wasn’t vocal. He looked around as if in a daze. He was probably stunned at how far he’d fallen, and how this would be his legacy to his children. Matt pitied the boys.
“Shall we go into the dining room?” Matt offered. “We can all sit around the table and hear the story out over a glass of whisky.” Even Minerva thought that was a splendid idea.
Matt told the story. Willa sat beside him, silent—for once. Minerva shared her harrowing adventure of being kidnapped. The squire had asked for paper and ink and he recorded their versions of events.
The whisky helped the dowager recover. When Dumfries asked if Matt wished to take out charges against George, she answered, “Absolutely not.”
“Grandmother, we will,” Matt answered.
“We can’t,” she countered. “What will people think? We don’t want our affairs to be bandied about.”
“He killed people,” Willa said. “I saw their bodies. What he did was terrible.”
“Bodies?” Minerva echoed. “A dockside doxy and some man no one knows? They don’t count for anything.”
“The law frowns on murder, Your Grace,” Dumfries said tactfully.
“I don’t care what the law frowns on. The title must not be attached to any such sordid business.”
“He tried to murder us—” Willa answered, starting to her feet in her indignation.
Matt reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. He looked to Dumfries. “Of course charges should be filed. And prepare yourself. My cousin is an excellent lawyer.”
“Your Grace,” Minerva started. “I must object—”
“And you are free to do so, Grandmother. However, it is my decision that carries weight. I’m tired of secrets. I’m done with them. George will be judged for his actions.”
“He will sully our name—”
“He already has,” Matt said. “We should have talked to the authorities years ago.”
She shut her mouth then. He knew she didn’t agree with him. That was fine. He was Camberly.
It was almost dawn by the time everything was settled. The squire said, “I suppose it will be this afternoon when I send lads over.”
“Whenever will be fine,” Matt assured him. “My cousin is not going anywhere.”
At last everyone was gone. Minerva had sought her bed over an hour earlier, obviously disheartened that she would not have her way.
Now it was just Matt and Willa. He held out his arms, and she walked directly into them.
Matt kissed the top of her head. She cozied closer. This charming, beautiful woman had been willing to risk her life for him. What’s more, she loved him . . .
“I have a confession to make.”
She yawned. “Can it wait for morning?”
“I fear not.”
He had her complete attention now. “What is it? You look so serious.”
“I am serious.” He sat her down at the table and took the chair next to hers. Her feet barely touched the floor. Sometimes he felt twice her size. Right now, he believed he was a very little man. “I have a confession to make,” he started. “My conscience won’t let me go until I tell you the truth.”
“Very well.” She folded her hands in her lap.
Matt sat a moment, preparing himself before admitting, “I didn’t choose or even purchase the marriage ring you wear. I hadn’t done anything for the wedding, including asking a groomsman. I contacted Soren in the middle of the night demanding he fill the role.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I wish to be worthy of you. I notice how often you touch the ring.”
She curled her fingers in her lap. “It matches
my tastes perfectly. I’m fond of it.”
“And you thought I had chosen it.”
Willa looked down at the ring and then slowly nodded her head.
Matt slid off his chair and came down on one knee. “I’m sorry that I didn’t give you the respect you deserved.” He placed his hand over hers. “But if you will forgive me, I’ll work every day to make it up to you. I love you, Willa. Passionately, fully, and completely. There is no other woman who has ever touched my heart with her bravery and my soul with love. I give all I have to you, Willa. Everything. This is my solemn vow because I never want to lose you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. He feared he had upset her. “Willa, have I said the wrong thing?”
“You have said all the right things,” she answered—and then she threw her arms around him. “Of course I forgive you, but please let me hear you say it again.”
“Ask you to forgive me?”
“No, you buffle-headed man. The part that is important.”
He understood. “I love you, Willa. I’ll always love you—”
She cut him off with a kiss. They took their time of it, enjoying the moment.
Matt rose from the ground, picking up his petite bride. She looked at him. “I have a confession as well.”
“Yes.”
“When I wrote the letter jilting you, I’d hoped that you would come for me, and you did. Now I am no longer a blank piece of paper.”
“What do you mean?”
“The day I wrote the letter, I tried to make a list of all the things I wanted out of my life. I couldn’t think of anything. I was too dull and lacked experience in life. You changed that, Matt. We’ve been kidnapped, and almost murdered, and visited a whorehouse.”
“These aren’t necessarily good things, Willa.”
“But they proved that together, we can face anything. And now, take me to bed, husband. We have much catching up to do.”
Matt was happy to oblige.
Epilogue
Cornwall
May 7, 1814
There were babies. Beautiful, healthy, plump babies.
And Willa had never seen her two friends happier. Motherhood suited Leonie and Cassandra.
As the three friends had promised themselves, they gathered with husbands and children at the first opportunity.
Leonie’s daughter, Lady Elizabeth Rose Gilchrist, was almost nine months. She had her mother’s exotic eyes and her father’s smile. She was already attempting to walk.
“Precocious like her mother,” Leonie’s husband, Roman, Lord Rochdale, said proudly. Cassandra’s son was two months and four days old. Lord Andrew Lawrence York had an awareness of his surroundings that surprised Willa for someone so young. His six-year-old half brother, Lord Logan, doted on him with gentle care. Willa was deeply touched to watch the two brothers together.
They were all at the Dewsberry estate, Pentreath Castle, because of Andrew’s age.
After what seemed to be weeks of rain, they were enjoying a sunny day. The husbands, Logan, and Willa had all gone for a bit of fishing before joining the new mothers on the back portico. The talk was of building projects, land management, Leonie’s roses for which she was becoming renowned, and the school that Cassandra and Soren had opened.
Willa sat in her chair on the back portico, where their hosts had prepared what could only be described as a feast, and listened to the happy sharing. The men were entertaining Logan by teaching him how to play croquet. Their voices carried across the lawn.
“There isn’t a game Logan doesn’t enjoy,” Cassandra said with a touch of pride. “His mind is so quick.”
“He will grow into quite a man,” Willa agreed. She was holding Andrew and enjoying the soft, cottony smell of him.
Her friends had asked questions about the case against George. He was coming up for trial in a few weeks. The papers and pamphleteers were busy making him and his misdeeds infamous. Only Minerva was upset by the gossip and speculation. Willa and Matt were at peace with their decision.
Baby Andrew’s head bobbled slightly as he looked up at her. She smiled down at him—and then he spit up.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Cassandra said, jumping to her feet with a wet cloth to help Willa clean up.
“It’s fine,” Willa said, and it was. “He is being a baby.” She handed Andrew to his mother and dabbed at the shoulder of her dress.
“I don’t have an article of clothing that doesn’t have some stain from Lizzy,” Leonie said.
“It is time for him to nurse anyway,” Cassandra answered. “We’ll only be a moment.” She slipped inside the house.
“I will have to do that shortly as well,” Leonie said. “But this is our first private moment since we arrived.” She leaned toward Willa. “You appear so happy. The marriage is good?”
Willa thought of that morning, of her husband’s lovemaking. She ran a finger over the lines of her wedding ring, the one Matt had made perfect with his confession and vow of honesty. He’d kept that vow.
“My marriage is wonderful.”
Leonie smiled. “We are three lucky women.” Her gaze drifted to the tall men in deep competition with themselves and a small boy. “Logan will outfox them.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“I didn’t mention it earlier, but I do like your hair. The style suits you. It is as if you were weighed down before and now you seem lighter.”
“That is how I feel.”
“And children?” Leonie asked.
“In God’s time,” Willa said. “To be honest, right now, life is so full.” A memory struck her. “Before Matt and I married, I tried to make a list of all the things I wanted to do in my life. I was lonely after you and Cassandra married and left. The pages were blank. I knew nothing, had thought of nothing. I’d spent all the time until that moment meeting others’ expectations. I tried to be what my parents wanted.”
“They wanted us to find husbands.”
“And to not cause any comment or scandals,” Willa added.
“True,” Leonie agreed. “How is your father with all the gossip about the trial coming up?”
“He is too concerned with his own affairs to have a care. I’m not sorry we are doing this. People have taken Matt aside and told him stories of disgrace from their own families. It is almost as if they had carried a burden and must confess it to him.” She looked over to her husband, who had knocked his wooden ball into Roman’s and sent it flying. “I love him so deeply that I can’t imagine my life without him.”
“I understand. I never could have believed I would be this happy.”
Willa swung around in her chair to face Leonie. “But it is more than having a husband. With Matt, I have someone who wishes me to be my best self. In turn, I want the same for him. The gossip and rumors about the trial are nothing to us as long as we have each other.”
“And our friends,” Leonie said. “As long as we are friends.”
“I could second that,” Willa answered.
“Second what?” Cassandra said, coming out onto the portico. She must have handed Andrew over to his nurse for a nap since he wasn’t in her arms.
“Our friendship,” Leonie said. “It has taken us through many adventures.”
“Because we have been there to support each other,” Cassandra answered. She poured a glass of lemonade. She offered it to Leonie and then poured two more.
“And to compete with each other,” Willa reminded them. “I did win our point game.”
“I am convinced we have all come out winners,” Leonie answered.
“So, here is to friendship,” Cassandra said, sitting down and raising her glass.
“And to the future,” Willa offered.
“May we be women unafraid to face whatever life brings us,” Leonie finished.
And it was so.
Author’s Note
Dear Readers—
I come from a long line of strong women. We didn’t set off to be “strong.” Often, we didn’t always
know what we were about. We were merely meeting others’ expectations. We just did the next right thing as it appeared before us. We made mistakes in life . . . and learned valuable lessons.
We lived fully.
Is it true we find ourselves through love? Or is it when we are open to love with its powers of healing and grace that we can find ourselves? I believe the answer is unique to each of us.
Things I do know—friendship is a saving grace. And finding a partner in life who helps me be all that I can is a true blessing.
Leonie, Cassandra, and Willa, the Spinster Heiresses, may not be perfect. However, through love, they keep seeking the very best in themselves. Each of us can ask no more.
And I’ve learned that love is more than just focusing on one person. There are many things to love in this life, such as the freedom to think for ourselves or to find joy in the passions and experiences that make life worth living. It is all about engagement.
Finally, a word about William. I wanted to write a blackmail book. My research led me to discover that there was really only one reason for blackmail during this time period, and that was homosexuality.
You see, scandal was an everyday occurrence. Women and men cheated on each other. Babies were born happily and unhappily out of wedlock. There was embezzlement and fraud, murder and mayhem, even a few bombings, and an assassination. The Regency was a colorful age.
But there was only one topic that could destroy a man, making him a ripe target for the blackmailer. Thankfully, we have moved beyond those prejudices. I hope I have treated William with respect.
And now, here are my wishes for you—may you love well, may you surround yourself with people who help you be your best self, and may you never stop living fully.
With much love,
Cathy Maxwell
Buda, Texas
June 1, 2018
By Cathy Maxwell
The Spinster Heiresses
The Duke That I Marry
A Match Made in Bed
If Ever I Should Love You
The Duke That I Marry Page 21