by Cheryl Holt
“I will tell him,” Faith said.
“Tell him thank you for giving me my nieces. It was so kind of him. And tell him…tell him…” She dithered, then laughed. “Forget all that. There’s no point to a message really.”
She climbed in too, and Faith shut the door. Mary and Millie popped up in one window and Abigail in the other.
“Goodbye!” the twins cheerfully hollered, not realizing the perils that might await them in town.
They viewed it all as a grand lark, and Faith hoped it would be. Abigail was in such a precarious fiscal hole, but she was very brave and not afraid of any obstacle.
“Goodbye, you little ragamuffins!” Faith said. “And goodbye to you, Abigail Henley. I’m glad I met you. I’m glad you lived here with me—even if it was for such a short period.”
“I’ll see you again someday,” Abigail vowed.
Faith smiled. “I’m counting on it.”
The driver called to the horses, and they jumped and pulled with excessive vigor. The carriage rolled away and vanished down the lane. Faith dawdled in the driveway, watching the dust settle.
* * * *
Alex emerged from Newgate Prison, fighting off a shudder as the heavy gate clanged behind him.
He’d been locked away for nearly a week, but he was wealthy so the conditions were never horrid. In such a sordid, immoral place, bribes purchased a fellow what he required. Still though, it was a prison, and he was irked that there’d been such a lengthy delay before Camilla and his lawyer had paid his bail. It might be time to find a new lawyer and a new mistress.
Then again, maybe Price’s father had interfered. An aristocrat could keep a man incarcerated forever if he felt like it so he was lucky to be out. In light of his antics with Hayden Henley, the authorities would be disturbed by any violent outburst. All of London’s upper crust would be talking about him. They’d insist he was a danger to society. Why hadn’t he been hanged years ago?
He had no idea.
He peered up and down the busy street, but didn’t see his carriage. There were hoards of people in line at the prison gate, hoping to be admitted so they could bring their unfortunate relatives food or blankets or coins to ease their circumstances. But no Camilla. No servants. Did she expect him to walk home?
Actually, she probably hadn’t thought about him at all. Was anyone aware that he’d been arrested? Once he arrived at his town house, would the servants be relieved that he was free? If he’d been executed, how long would it have taken the staff to discover the master of the manor had perished?
His mood was at an unrivaled low, but his recent troubles were his own fault, and he had to adjust his attitude before too many more minutes had passed.
Suddenly, the crowd parted, and Price was standing in front of him. His nose was swollen, his eyes purple and one barely open. Alex was delighted to note that the injuries appeared very painful.
On observing Price, his initial reaction was gratitude. His old friend had known he was in a jam! His old friend had shown up to provide assistance! Yet his second reaction—he fervidly tamped it down—was to punch him again even harder.
“What are you doing here?” Alex fumed.
“I posted your bail.”
“I didn’t need you to.”
“I posted it anyway.”
“You’re so rich now,” Alex sneered. “You must have money to burn.”
“It’s marvelous to be wealthy. I won’t deny it.”
“Bully for you.”
“I’ve instructed our lawyer to file the appropriate papers so the charges are quietly dropped. You won’t be prosecuted.”
“Why? You can’t bear to see me hanged?”
“No, I can’t abide the notion.”
“Aren’t you a saint?”
“My father thinks you’re insane though. He’s livid and demanding justice.”
“You ruined my sister, and justice would be for me to hang because of it?”
“When you put it that way, it seems rather harsh.”
Price grinned an annoying grin, the kind that made people fawn over him, that made people forgive him for any transgression. For once, it had no effect, and he quickly masked it.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Alex snapped. “You can’t mend this.”
“If it’s any consolation, I love her. I’ve always loved her.”
“Shut up, Price or I’ll hit you again.”
“I agreed to elope to Spain with her. Did she mention our plans? I couldn’t follow through.”
“Of course you couldn’t. Any fool would have realized it, but she was too stupidly naïve to understand that so you lied and seduced her.”
“How is she? Does she hate me? I’ve been sick with worry. Please tell me she’s all right.”
“She burned all her paintings.”
“Oh, no…”
“After it became clear you’d tricked her, she slashed them to bits and had a huge bonfire behind the cottage. She claims she’ll never pick up a brush again—because of you. Have I given you a tiny hint of how she might be feeling?”
“She has to start over. She’s too remarkable. You can’t allow her to quit.”
“If she quits or if she doesn’t, it’s none of your business.”
“I was her biggest fan.”
“Really?” Alex scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“I doubt it will happen, but if there’s a…a…child, will you inform me? You have to promise you will.”
“So you can do what? Will you send gifts on his birthday? Will you buy him his first pony when he’s five?”
“I have the funds to be generous. I could pay for school or…whatever.”
“She’s my sister,” Alex stoically said. “I can pay. We don’t need anything from you, and if we ultimately learn she’s increasing, you are the very last person who will ever be apprised.”
He marched off, and Price called, “Alex!”
He whirled around. “What?”
“Would you like a ride somewhere? We could go in my carriage. Let me drive you.”
“In your carriage?”
“Yes. You’re obviously distressed. Just…permit me to help you.”
Alex stomped back until they were toe to toe. “You were my friend. You were welcome in my home—no matter your condition—yet you felt at liberty to trifle with my sister. Why would you?”
Price shrugged. “I told you I loved her. I’ve never met a female like her, and I couldn’t resist. I won’t apologize for it.”
“You didn’t love her,” Alex furiously stated. “At least be honest with me about what occurred.”
“I did love her!” Price insisted. “I did!”
“No. You lusted after her, and she was lonely and isolated so it was easy to take advantage of her. That’s what it was. Don’t pretend to possess higher motives.”
There was a charged silence, then Price shrugged again. “All right. I won’t pretend.”
“When I was banished and so far away from England, you were the only one who was concerned about me. You were the only one who wrote me. You were the only one who was waiting on the dock when my ship returned. You were the only one who stood by me, yet you wounded me like this.”
“You won’t believe me, but I’m sick with regret.”
“Was it worth it? Was your fiancée’s money worth it?”
“No, I’m sure it wasn’t. It won’t ever be.”
“In the grand scheme of things, our bond wasn’t very important, but you wrecked what we had. Why? Why? Why? It’s the word that keeps racing through my mind.”
“I can’t explain why. I shouldn’t have.”
“Stay away from Wallace Downs,” Alex warned. “Don’t imagine you can visit as if there’s been no breach between us.”
“I won’t, but do you think…do you suppose y
ou might ever forgive me? Might Faith ever forgive me?”
“Are you joking?”
It was such a strange request that Alex gaped in astonishment, but then Price had always been pardoned for his sins. He was the most corrupt, unprincipled man who’d ever been born. He’d glommed onto Alex because Alex wasn’t offended by his awful behavior or despicable traits.
But now, those traits had impacted Alex’s family, and he couldn’t fathom how to deal with the situation except to separate himself forever. He hadn’t murdered Price for his conduct toward Faith, but with how enraged he’d been it was a miracle Price was still alive.
“What are you hoping, Price?” Alex taunted. “Are you hoping someday you’ll be a fixture at Wallace Downs again? Are you hoping—after you grow weary of your bride—we’ll all be chums? Perhaps you could empty my wine cellar a few more times, then spend your afternoons at the cottage with Faith when I’m not paying attention. Maybe—if you’re lucky and you didn’t plant a babe on this occasion—you might the next. Is that what you intend?”
“I don’t know what I intend. I didn’t fully assess the ramifications before I proceeded. I didn’t mean to hurt either of you.”
“No, you never mean it.”
“Could you grant me a favor?”
“No.”
“It’s simple to agree. Just don’t kill me. Could you swear you won’t? I can’t constantly be peeking over my shoulder to see if you’re about to shoot me in the back.”
“You’re not worth killing,” Alex spat.
“I’m glad we concur on that point,” Price sarcastically said.
“Goodbye, you prick.”
Alex stormed off, and Price said something else, but Alex had shoved through the bustling crowd so the remark was swallowed up.
If Alex had been in a better mood, he’d have listened to Price’s final comments. He’d have given his friend a chance for the more amiable parting he seemed determined to have.
He was so vain he was likely assuming the bitter memories would eventually fade, and he’d be a regular guest at Wallace Downs in the future, but any camaraderie would crush Faith. Didn’t the stupid oaf realize that?
Alex would never treat her so shabbily. He merely hoped Price hadn’t sired a babe. The last thing the Wallaces needed was another bastard child that had no father.
He walked on, fuming, stewing, cursing everyone he knew. He had coins in his pocket and could have hired a cab, but it felt grand to be outside and breathing the fresh air.
On the night of the ball when he’d tracked down Price and assaulted him, he’d been so incensed. Yet once he’d been shackled and hauled off to jail, he’d had plenty of time to calm down, plenty of time to reflect.
He’d examined his actions, struggling to deduce why his temper had flared to such a height. It was quite a shock to recognize that all of it circled back to Abigail.
She’d changed him, had pushed him to quit being a distracted, apathetic moron. For an entire decade, he’d stumbled around like a blind man. He’d been livid over his wife’s affair with Henley, and while he’d extracted some revenge, he had suffered all the consequences.
He’d spent years alone, desperate to come to grips with what had happened. When he’d returned to England, he couldn’t figure out how to exist in the world that had been yanked away after the duel. He hadn’t wanted to exist in it.
He’d shut himself off. He hadn’t cared, hadn’t tried.
Abigail had rattled loose the bricks in the wall that he’d built to keep himself sane and on track. He’d been so happy with her. He’d been ecstatic that she’d involved herself in his life and family with such stunning results. Then she’d announced her true identity, and the news had devastated him.
Why had he blamed her for being a Henley? Why had he ordered her away?
She’d been a schoolgirl when the debacle had occurred, and her parents hadn’t shared any of the sordid details. She was still the person she’d been when she first arrived. She was the beautiful, sophisticated, smart, and kind woman who had tantalized and delighted him.
He’d seduced her with wicked intent so how was he any different than Price Pendergast? How could he hold the moral high ground when he’d behaved so immorally? What if he’d planted a babe? What if she was increasing?
Would he send her to London to fend for herself?
What was wrong with him? Why was he such a cold-hearted, pitiless ass? Would he ever recover from the damage that had been inflicted? Would he ever be ready for a better future?
It was that better future Abigail had dangled in front of him, and he couldn’t let her go. He had to race to Wallace Downs as fast as he could. She was staying until Sunday so he’d be there long before she left.
He’d apologize until he was blue in the face. He’d beg her to forgive him. He’d plead and promise and…and…grovel if he had to, but he would get his way in the end. He always did.
His mind made up, he glanced about for a cab. A driver stopped, and he leapt in. He gave directions to his house and told him to hurry, then he relaxed against the seat.
He would wash and eat and dress, then he’d ride for Wallace Downs on his swiftest horse. If he was lucky, Abigail would be his by nightfall.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alex hurried up the lane to the cottage. He had bouquets of flowers for Abigail and Faith, as well as a pair of matching dolls for the twins. He’d sent other gifts on ahead, ribbons for their hair, Belgian lace to stitch on collars and petticoats. The packages should have already been delivered, and he’d made sure the idiotic deliveryman knew the correct house.
Not that he needed to worry about Camilla raising a fuss. She was still in town, and she’d been out when he’d returned from jail. Her maid had claimed she was meeting with Alex’s lawyer to arrange his release. He couldn’t guess if that was true and didn’t really care.
He’d penned an enigmatic note, apprising her they’d speak the next time he saw her. The words would sound sufficiently ominous that she’d rush to the country to discover what he meant, but he hoped she didn’t arrive too soon. He had many important matters to tend before he dealt with her.
He felt free for a change, as if he’d finally shucked off the past that haunted him. He’d shucked off Hayden Henley’s ghost too. For once, he could ponder Henley without wanting to kill him all over again.
He’d never asked anyone about the affair between Henley and Eugenia. They’d all been so young. Had Henley loved her? Might they have wed after her divorce? Or had Eugenia merely been a fun and flirtatious girl who’d tantalized him? Had he even realized Eugenia was married?
They were curious pieces of a puzzle he’d never wished to unravel. He’d simply raged and vented and hadn’t speculated about Henley’s opinions at all.
But he was thinking about them now. Frequently and intensely.
If he proceeded with his marriage to Abigail—if she’d lower herself to have him—Henley would be his deceased brother-in-law. It was such a peculiar twist of fate that he couldn’t imagine how he’d ended up in such a strange spot.
He marched up to the cottage door and considered blustering in unannounced, but he was anxious for a grander entrance than that. He knocked, but no one answered. He knocked again with no success, and he wondered if they were having a picnic down on the beach. He grinned, reflecting on how amusing it would be to stroll out onto the sand and surprise them.
He spun the knob and went in, but he stumbled to a halt.
The curtains were pulled, the house quiet and seeming almost abandoned. In the dining room, he’d expected lesson books to be on the table, but it was clean of debris.
He bounded up the stairs to Abigail’s bedroom, and a quick search of the dresser told him she’d left, but it wasn’t Sunday. She had several more days to spend with her nieces.
He dashed to the twins’ room, and he was perplexed—and even a tad alarmed—to find that all of their things
were missing too. Then he raced to Faith’s bedchamber. A peek in the wardrobe proved she was still there, but Abigail and the twins had definitely departed.
He peered out the window into the yard, and a plume of smoke was rising from the chimney in Faith’s studio. He tore down the stairs and hastened out to the other building. When he reached the door, he was disturbed by the sight he witnessed.
The space was empty except for a work table in the corner and a cabinet along the wall. Everything else was gone. Faith was sitting in a chair and gazing out the window toward the beach. She appeared lost and forlorn.
“Faith?” he murmured.
She stiffened, then glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. It’s you. When did you get home?”
“A bit ago.”
“I’m delighted to see you’re not dead or maimed.”
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t wait for you in town,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to learn any bad news.”
“There wasn’t any.”
“Good.”
She turned and stared out again, and he tiptoed in like an intruder. Clearly, she was in the midst of a private sort of grief and it was wrong to impose, but her wretched state was enormously distressing to observe.
He walked over and balanced his hips on the windowsill so he could look at her—and force her to look at him.
“Price’s pretty face isn’t as perfect as it once was.” He thought the comment might draw a smile, but it didn’t.
“Thank you. I’d have hit him myself, but I didn’t have the chance, and I’m not strong enough to have done any genuine damage.”
“I punched him extra hard for you.”
“But you didn’t shoot him?”
“No, I didn’t shoot him.”
“I’m glad.”
“I was arrested though, for assaulting him.”
She scowled. “Have you been in jail all this time?”
“Yes.” He waved away the experience. “It was nothing, and Price is dropping the charges.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
“He won’t ever visit us in the future.”