The Brunette Who Stole His Heart

by Tabetha Waite

  “You should know that I don’t regret my actions, for it was at the behest of my mistress, who is also my friend,” she began slowly. “But neither did I plan for…whatever this is.” She set a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. “As for the rest, I honestly don’t know what to think… or what to believe.”

  A gentle hand reached out and touched her arm, and she gasped, her eyes flying open to see Freddie towering over her. “While I was also acting in the service of the viscount, I hope that you can trust me when I say that everything I said about you—” He reached out and lightly slid his knuckles across her cheek. “—that you’re beautiful and wonderful and anything I could ever want was absolutely true.”

  Faith was finding it difficult not to be pulled into his magnetism, but still, she hesitated.

  He must have read her indecision, for he stepped back. “Would it help if I told you that the duchess wrote to me last evening?”

  Faith blinked. “She did?”

  “Indeed. She told me to look my best today and that I should call upon you to make amends.” He looked slightly sheepish. “I think this might be her attempt at matchmaking.”

  She crossed her arms and shook her head. “It wouldn’t surprise me. The duchess is quite a force to be reckoned with. Especially with that cane she so often wields like a sword.”

  Freddie’s eyebrows rose, although the smirk he wore on his face was enough to tell her that he agreed with that observation.

  With a sigh, Faith decided to relent. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Bartholomew. My name is Faith Albright, and I was raised on a farm with my parents and five siblings. When I was of age, I went into service as a ladies’ maid, although how much longer that may last may also remain to be seen.”

  His smile was slow and genuine. “We have approximately four days until our fates are decided with the return of Lady Mercy and Viscount Westbrook. Until then…” He held out his arm to her. “Shall we continue our courtship by taking a turn in the gardens?”

  Faith laughed, but she stepped forward and accepted his offering. “Thank goodness we’re not taking the phaeton out,” she murmured.

  “What do you mean?” he returned in mock offense. “I thought I was getting rather good at taking the reins.”

  She slid a sideways glance at him. “You could still use some work.”

  As they stepped onto the terrace, he turned her to face him. With his hands on either side of her face, he said softly, “And what of my kisses? Do they need some work as well?”

  Faith’s toes curled delightfully in her slippers. “I can’t say,” she said rather breathlessly. “Perhaps another demonstration is in order.”

  He complied by taking her lips in a kiss so drugging and mesmerizing that she was swaying toward him when he pulled back. “How was that?” he asked.

  She looked into his enchanting green eyes and whispered, “I would say it needs some definite practice and we should try again.”

  He grinned as she pulled his head back down to her.

  Chapter Nine

  It turned out that Freddie didn’t get four days to court Faith, but it wasn’t required. That afternoon was all it had taken for them to reconnect with each other, for while they had been under the guise of someone else; they were still just two people who had come from common ground. In spite of this, they had both held aspirations of trying to better their circumstances.

  So when Faith had turned to him and asked about pursuing the clergy if he was dismissed from service, he actually gave the matter some serious thought. It had been what he’d always wanted to do. Of course, first, he would have to find a proper vicarage, but he had to admit that being a simple country curate certainly held great appeal. And that way, he could marry without having to worry about how he might support a wife and family.

  Mrs. Faith Bartholomew did have a certain ring to it.

  However, the lightness he’d begun to feel in his step once more abruptly came to a halt when the door opened and the viscount strode through it. This was the moment he’d been anticipating and dreaded all at once, but now the time of reckoning had finally arrived.

  Freddie stood near the staircase and waited for Braxton to take the master’s overcoat and see that his traveling valise was taken care of. “Welcome home, my lord,” the butler said as monotone as ever. In his superior role of the house, it was his job to keep things in order, even if he had to be feeling the same stirrings of anxiety just as Freddie was.

  The viscount ignored him as he glanced up and saw Freddie. “I need to speak with you in my study.” He didn’t say anything further as he strode that direction.

  Freddie caught Braxton’s somber eye as he followed suit. At least he’d dressed for the occasion in serene black and white.

  “Close the door behind you,” the viscount snapped as he took the seat behind his desk.

  Without a word, Freddie did as he was told.

  After a heavy sigh, the viscount shoved a hand through his hair. It wasn’t until that moment that Freddie realized how disheveled the man appeared. In truth, he looked rather ill at ease. Not only was his cravat twisted and hanging rather limp and wrinkled, something that a valet would take particular notice of, but dark circles shaded his eyes and tight lines of strain bracketed his mouth.

  As Westbrook scrubbed a hand down his face, he pinned Freddie with a glare and gestured to the seat across from him. “Well, don’t just stand there like a statue. Sit down.”

  He complied. And waited.

  After a time, the viscount sighed heavily. “I’ve sent word to Lady Mercy requesting that she break off our engagement.”

  Freddie blinked. That hadn’t been what he’d been expecting, so it took a moment for his words to penetrate his befuddled brain. “Pardon?”

  Westbrook threw his arms up in surrender. He barked out a laugh that sounded rather maniacal. “I can’t do it.” He shook his head. “I had a revelation when I was in Brighton and there is no possible way that I can marry her now.”

  “What sort of revelation?” he asked slowly.

  The viscount’s brown eyes were clear and focused when he said, “I fell in love.” He held up a hand. “Don’t say anything. I know it sounds like something a madman might say, especially coming from me. I’ve always scoffed at any sort of romantic drivel, but I swear I’ve had an epiphany.” He glanced off into the distance, as if he was bringing back a wondrous memory. “Faith is everything that I’ve ever wanted and whether or not she’s a commoner makes no difference to me. I will have her as my wife this very day if she’ll have me.”

  Freddie finally caught up to the conversation. “Did you say, Faith? As in Albright?”

  Westbrook sat back, apparently stunned. “Do you know her?”

  “I do.” Freddie’s lips twitched. “And I think we really should have that talk now.”

  ***

  Faith was sitting with the duchess in the front parlor taking tea, still clad in the dress she’d worn when Freddie had called, when the door burst open and a flash of blue, followed by a barrage of tears darted past the open doorway.

  Faith and the duchess shared a knowing glance, where the latter said, “It appears that Mercy has arrived.”

  She set aside her cup and got her feet. “I’ll go see to her.”

  As she walked past the foyer, she saw Mercy’s parents looking rather grim. She nodded to them and then headed up the stairs to check on her mistress, for as long as she had that particular position, at least.

  She knocked softly on the door to the guest room that she’d enjoyed until just recently before she had moved into the servant’s quarters.

  “Go away!” Came a firm voice from the other side.

  Faith took a deep breath. “Mercy? It’s Faith. I thought you might need—”

  The door abruptly burst open and she was dragged into the room. The oak was slammed shut behind her as Mercy threw her arms around Faith and continued to sob. In between sniffles, she did her best to talk. “Oh, Faith!
It’s been just… terrible! I had the most… delicious time at Brighton. I… met someone, but I know we can’t… marry. Mama and Papa would never… allow it! They are so… determined that I should wed the viscount… but I can’t bear it. And… then I get this letter…”

  She pulled back long enough to withdraw a crumpled piece of paper out of her reticule and wave it in the air; her hazel eyes still shining brightly with unshed emotion. “The Viscount of Westbrook wishes for me to… call off our engagement! I’ve ruined everything, but was it really… wrong of me to want to experience something of life before I was… forced into a marriage I didn’t want… with a man who I’ve never met… and start birthing the requisite heir… while I rusticate in some drafty… country manor?”

  Mercy walked over to the bed and collapsed on the edge with a heavy sigh, as if the weight of the world were resting on her shoulders. While she was still visibly upset, at least she had calmed down enough where she could talk rationally. “I’m only twenty years old. I feel like there is so much that I haven’t yet seen. I wanted to travel the world, but I would ignore it all if I could just marry the man I truly want.”

  Mercy stared at her clasped hands in her lap as Faith tentatively sat down next to her. “You have always resented the duty and responsibility that was placed upon you,” she said softly.

  “It’s difficult being the daughter of a marquess.” Mercy looked at her sadly. “I realize I must sound terribly selfish, for what should I have to complain about as a spoiled heiress?”

  “I have never thought that of you,” Faith returned gently as she grasped her hand. “And you shouldn’t either. You are one of the best ladies I know. I wouldn’t have remained in your employ if I thought otherwise.”

  Mercy squeezed her hand in return. “And I feel as if I’ve failed your loyalty. I abused your friendship by making you come to London and go through all this nonsense while I was in Brighton flirting with the wrong man. I’m sorry I put you in this position. I should have never asked it of you. Forgive me?”

  While Faith appreciated Mercy’s apology, she said, “There is nothing to forgive. Not for your request of me, nor in following your heart.”

  Mercy rolled her eyes. “Tell that to my parents.”

  Faith smiled. “They just want what’s best for you.”

  “Enough about me.” Mercy waved a hand and wiped at her eyes. “How did you fare while I was gone? Was it awful?”

  Faith thought of Freddie and said, “Not in the least. It was much better than I imagined, although I could have done without attending a ball.” She gave a mock shudder. “All those vultures waiting to pick on someone like a dead carcass.”

  Mercy laughed. “So very apt. Society can be quite relentless.”

  “Honestly,” Faith interjected. “I want to hear more about this paragon that you met.”

  Mercy’s expression instantly turned dreamy. “Oh, Faith, I don’t even know how to describe him other than he was devilishly handsome and oh, so charming. He made me laugh and—” She broke off with a shrug. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. I likely won’t see Freddie again.”

  Faith stilled. Surely the irony wouldn’t go that far. “Freddie, you say?”

  “Yes.” Mercy blushed slightly.

  “Did you get his last name?” Faith prodded.

  Mercy seemed to consider this for a moment and then she shook her head. “I’m not sure that he told me. He just mentioned that he was a valet.”

  All of a sudden Faith started laughing to the point Mercy finally asked her what was going on. “It’s nothing. Only that if my suspicions are correct, all things will be revealed in due course.”

  While Mercy wore a rather puzzled look on her face, Faith couldn’t seem to stop grinning.

  ***

  Faith was sitting in the garden when Freddie walked over to her. There was a slight breeze that ruffled his hair and her breath caught at the sight. Would she ever tire of looking at him? Likely not.

  But then, how much longer would she get to enjoy his presence?

  He sat down on the stone bench next to her. “Well, that was rather… ironic.”

  Faith couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, it was, rather. I never imagined that they would willingly take over our identities.”

  He lifted a brow. “You didn’t think we were that interesting?”

  “Not really. I just hope they can work it out. At least the shouting has stopped.” Her merriment subsided when she glanced over at him. His face was intense, his eyes burning with something that she wanted to explore further.

  She started to stand. “I should probably go—”

  “Faith, wait.” He grabbed hold of her hand and shivers instantly traveled up her spine.

  She reluctantly sat back down, although he didn’t release her. Instead, he touched the ring on her finger and murmured, “You’re still wearing it.”

  She glanced at the diamond that she still wore, and yet she hadn’t even given it a second thought. Until now.

  She withdrew her hand from his and started to remove it. He stopped her.

  “No. Keep it on.” He searched her face. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to be engaged anymore.”

  Pain shot through her heart at his words and this time when she stood, he didn’t try to stop her. Although, she had no intention of leaving. Mercy and Westbrook weren’t the only ones who needed to work through their current romantic issues. “I can’t believe that you would say such a thing to me. You know very well that this ring was meant for another woman. It should be returned—”

  “It’s a wedding gift from the viscount with his blessing.”

  This actually took Faith aback. Knowing how much it cost, she said, “That was rather… generous.”

  “Indeed, but after everything he put both of us through, I should think it was a small price to pay.” His mouth kicked up at the corner.

  Faith couldn’t disagree with that reasoning. She looked down at the rose-cut gemstone on her hand and was mesmerized by the play of light from the late afternoon sun. Prisms of rainbows were cast upon the borrowed gown that she still wore. “How can it be possible?” she whispered. “We’re in service—”

  Again, he cut her off. “The duchess has kindly offered me the vicarage at her estate in Hertfordshire. The previous vicar recently retired.”

  Faith still avoided his gaze. “I’m so glad that you’re going to get what you’ve always wanted, Freddie.”

  She heard the slight rustle of his clothes, and then his shadow fell over her. A gentle hand lifted her chin upward. “That’s not everything I want.” He took a deep breath. “I will gladly get down on my knee right here in front of you and proclaim my love, make some grand, romantic gesture surrounded by pretty prose, but that wouldn’t be me. So I’m just going to stand here and offer myself to you as a simple man who is offering you an equally simple life. I can’t promise that things will always be easy, but I can tell you that I will love you with all of my heart for the rest of our days and will do my best to ensure that you are happy.”

  His face abruptly became blurry, as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Freddie. You are all that I’ve ever wanted. If this experience has taught me anything, it’s to appreciate even the smallest things. Society holds no interest for me and I could care less about being dressed in the latest fashions. I missed being that village girl, but I know with you I will never be simple. I love you.”

  His smile was full of promises for the future. “I love you to distraction, Faith Albright.” His focus dropped to her mouth. “May I kiss you now?”

  “Please, do.”

  He sealed their bargain with an embrace so sweet that it filled Faith’s heart to near bursting. As he pulled back slightly, he said, “May I also suggest a short engagement?”

  She wound her arms around his neck with a wide smile. “I was going to say the same thing.”

  His rich laughter filled the air around them.

  Epilogue

  A f
ortnight later…

  Mrs. Faith Bartholomew set down her traveling valise and removed her plain straw bonnet as she took her first look at her new home. She walked among the rooms of the limestone cottage and glanced inside each one. With simple furnishings, the duchess had given them a rather generous allowance to set up their house however they wished, so the possibilities were endless.

  She could already picture inviting Mercy over for tea and making calls on the people in her husband’s new congregation. He was due to hold his first service the next morning, which was why she’d gone ahead to their house while he remained behind at the church.

  Faith walked up the stairs, trailing her hand along the bannister railing until she reached the upper floor. She walked into the main bedchamber and was relieved to see that there was already a four-poster frame there. Her lips turned upward at the corners thinking of the night to come and how they might properly institute this room to the best advantage. She had several ideas of course, for her husband had turned out to be a rather considerate lover.

  Her blood raced at the idea of spending the night in their very own home, which was more than she might have ever imagined for her future.

  Two strong arms encircled her waist from behind. She laughed as she leaned her head back against Freddie’s chest. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t even heard him come up the stairs. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Mrs. Bartholomew?” he whispered seductively in her ear.

  “I certainly hope so,” she returned just as saucily.

  He turned her around so that he could kiss her properly. When they parted, their breathing was heavy. “Is it too early to call it a day?”

  She glanced out a nearby window at the sun shining brightly inside. “Some may say so, but I disagree.” She moved back slightly and started to undress slowly.