Twenty-seven

“How many weeks do the banns have to be called?”

Declan was yanking on Kate’s sleeve, drawing her down the small hill away from the little stone church.

“Three weeks,” she said. “This was the last.”

Neither she nor her children were used to attending weekly services, but all were nudged back into the tradition with the promise of a wedding. The Reverend Jerrold had accepted their return with as much quiet grace as he had always accepted Kate’s absence, and the balm of his reaction was knitting wounded bits in Kate’s soul. Bits that had been grieved for the life she’d never had, and bits she had thought beyond grieving.

Sometimes sad accidents happened, like Con’s fall. Sometimes wonderful things happened, like a newfound love. And the world abided, and the stone church remained.

It was a comfort to know that such things remained.

She would keep going to services even once the wedding ceremony was complete. Declan was impatient because Kate had found so many people with whom to chat afterward, which was the beginning—she hoped—of friendships.

And in another seven months, there would be a baby, and a christening.

For the time being, the chase after Driscoll had been her last. Considering when she’d missed her courses, she must have conceived on her first night with Evan.

“So much for my precautions,” he had said when she told him. That night, he took her in his arms, kissed her thoroughly, and demonstrated the benefits of not having to take precautions.

Declan tugged at Kate’s arm. “Come on, please, Mama. They’re already in the churchyard.”

She slid and scooted down the slope, happy to be pulled by her son. When they reached the low wall, she saw that Evan was standing beside the stone, and Nora in front of it. “Declan,” Evan said, “we’re saying hello to your old da. Do you want to?”

Kate pretended not to notice that Evan’s eyes were wet. “Hullo, Con. You’d have loved how Evan rode in the chase.”

“Hullo, Da. You wouldn’t have loved it at all,” said Declan. “Uncle Evan finished sixth.”

“Considering I’d never ridden the course before, I think it was not bad,” Evan said loftily.

“You didn’t win a purse,” the boy pointed out.

Evan arched a brow. “Neither did you, so stop twitting me about it.”

“Mama would have won,” said Nora.

“Your faith in me is delightful. Several years ago, I’d have given it a good try,” said Kate. “Maybe next year I will again.”

She and Evan had prepared the children for the inevitable announcement by asking them whether they’d like a sister or brother. “Do we get to place an order?” Declan had asked.

“Not…as such, no,” Kate said. “I’m just wondering.”

“I already have a brother, so I want a sister,” Nora said.

“I want a sister too,” Declan said. When Nora gaped at him, he threw up his hands. “What? Sisters are good. And I want one that I can be older than.”

The memory of this conversation was sweet to Kate.

As Nora walked around her father’s headstone, she bent to pick something up. “Look! Someone has left a twist of weeds here.”

“There must be someone else who cares about your father very much,” Evan said. “Leave it there, Nora.”

“But it’s weeds,” she said—though she set the twist down with care.

“It’s the thought that counts,” Kate said. She knew who had left the little twist there.

She still wasn’t sure how to tell her children of the existence of their younger brother, Mary’s child. Maybe when her own baby came, and Declan and Nora had another half-sibling, they could be introduced to young Conall.

Maybe. There were a great many changes for their family to grow into. Sometimes her heart felt overstretched by all of them. But it was far better to have it stretched beyond comfort than shrunk beyond the point at which it could be touched.

“Wise words,” said Evan. “Children, remember that when your mother gives you flint for Christmas. It’s the thought that counts.”

“Come closer so I can elbow you,” Kate said.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” cried the children. As Evan made his way to the churchyard gate, he was surrounded by two fast-moving elbowing dervishes.

When Evan had battled them off, laughing, and shut the gate behind them, Nora asked, “When you marry Mama, are we still to call you Uncle Evan, or should we call you Da?”

Evan’s eyes met Kate’s, his brows lifted. What do you want?

She shrugged. You can decide.

“You can call me whatever you like,” Evan answered. “And you can change it whenever you’re ready.”

“Whatever we like? Can I call you Spider?” Declan asked.

“No,” said Evan. “But only because you have decided it is a good name for a horse. Otherwise, it would be a perfectly appropriate name for one’s stepfather.”

Nora bounced on her toes. “Mama, can we ride when we reach home?”

Kate clenched her teeth. “No. Maybe. Yes.” It was easier to climb onto a horse herself than to know her children were doing the same. Even though most people who fell were fine.

They had to be allowed the freedom to fall. Otherwise, they’d be bound and divided as she had once been.

“Your mother,” Evan said, “is playing a wonderful game where you only listen to every third word she says.”

“Is that true, Mama?”

Kate smiled. “No. Maybe. Yes.”

Nora looked her up and down. “You seem happy. Did you know, Mama, Uncle Evan has loved you my whole life?”

“Did everyone know this but me?” Kate asked.

“I didn’t know it,” Declan said. “And I don’t think Nora did either.”

“I did!”

Declan shot off. “First one to the stable gets the first ride!”

Arms pumping, plaits flying, Nora was quick on his heels.

“Do you want to join the race?” Kate asked. “You might be able to overtake them, and then you could have the first ride.”

“They would never forgive me. And since I’ve permitted them to call me whatever they like, I’ve got to stay on their good side.” He held out an arm. “May I walk you home instead, fair lady?”

She slipped her hand within the crook of his arm. “It would be my honor, sir.”

They strolled along the path from the church, framed by the bare-branched trees of early winter. Kate had a new red pelisse, and a sable hat that covered her ears and kept them from getting cold-nipped. It was delightful to choose colors again, to feel ready to bear them.

“I received a reply from your father,” Evan said. “The letter came yesterday. I forgot to mention it.”

“My father.” Kate rolled her eyes. “And which of his secrets are you helping him to research now?”

She had been, to use a word which she had recently employed to great effect, displeased recently when Evan told her the mysterious Anne Jones they were to find was, in all probability, the mother of Sir William Chandler’s daughter. If so, Kate had a half-sister no more than a year or two older than Nora.

Another one of those changes that had tugged at her heart in unexpected ways. “Con had an illegitimate child. My own father has an illegitimate child. Are there any men who can keep their cocks under control?”

Evan feigned offense. “There most certainly are. I myself am a model of calm and control.”

She had settled into the curve of his arm, laughing at the ridiculousness of it, crying a bit at the secrets held so long. When she became calm and reached for him, he acted in a way that completely belied his vow of control.

So, a reply had finally come to all of the news of the past month. Kate looked at the sky, letting the paleness fill her vision. “And what did my father have to say to you?”

“We were thinking it couldn’t be the same Anne Jones, right? Because of all the myriad Anne Joneses in the world, what would be the chances that the one your father sought would settle right by you?”

She already knew the answer. “He doesn’t think it a coincidence, does he?”

“He does not. As Janet Ahearn and as Anne Jones, she traveled all the time. Her excuse was that she visited family in Dublin, but likely, she was in Wales or England. Working with God knows who on God knows what scheme. But she needed a place to settle, and so she picked…here.”

“Sir William Chandler’s daughter.” Kate scuffed her toe against the path. A light mist began to fall, chill but not unpleasant. “She came here because of me. The smuggling took place from here because of me.”

A cold drop slapped her in the face. “In a way, Con died because of me.” She tipped her head. “I don’t mean to blame myself. But—it’s odd, isn’t it? The threads of the past are attached in so many ways.”

Evan stopped walking. He straightened his arm, dropping her hand, only to embrace her shoulders instead. “Con no more died because he married you than he died because he and I argued. His death was a tragedy, the result of many bad choices. I think marrying you, and having a friend who cared enough to argue with him, were good choices.”

She rested her head against the wall of his chest. “The best ones he ever made.” Another drop hit her face. This time she put out her tongue and tried to catch another. “I’ve been thinking about something new,” she added.

“Thus begins another wondrous adventure. And what shall it be?”

“That is exactly what I have been wondering. You liked lecturing so much. If you remain in Ireland, what will you do?”

“A fair question. I don’t know that there’s a need now for a stuffy old prune to talk about false antiquities. We’ve cut off the flow at its source.”

“This time.”

“This time,” he allowed. “But do you really think Tranc would return, now that we know what she looks like?”

“No, not here. But in case she does, the new magistrate will keep watch. Once we have a new magistrate.”

Evan regarded her narrowly. “You are wearing a dangerous sort of expression, my love. What are you thinking?”

“Well.” She feigned innocence. “The new district magistrate will be appointed by Dublin Castle. I can’t imagine who it’ll be, but I can put in a good word. The new master of Whelan House might not be a bad choice.”

He shook his head. “Me, sitting over petty sessions? Can you imagine it?”

“Making the sort of wry comments you make at your lectures? I think you’d have excellent attendance, and you’d do an admirable job. Now you’ll get to lecture on lawbreakers instead of history breakers.”

His mobile brows lifted. “It’s a thought.”

“A thought about which you think…what?”

“I think…I like the idea. I’ll put myself forward. I wouldn’t do a perfect job, but—”

“You would be just right for Thurles.”

“Exactly.” He grinned.

“And I’ll support you at every step.” She matched her actions to her words, grabbing his arm again, and setting them back to walking.

“Every step? Even the steps to—”

“Oh, Lord. Here it comes. A clever remark designed to topple my words over and start me to giggling.”

“Is it working?”

“That depends what the next word would be.”

“Biggie,” he said, and tickled her in the side until she was tottering down the path, tipsy with giggles and rain spattered over her face.

“I was thinking something else too,” she said.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Evan kissed her on the head, getting a faceful of sable hat.

“All sorts of dreadful things, probably. But if you miss teaching a group of people, Ireland is surely full of folks who would like to learn about history. Or study a magic lantern and see the images it makes.”

“I don’t know about all their kings and things—the true Gaelic history of the place. A classical education has little bearing on one’s homeland.”

“Then maybe you would like to learn. You can join Nora and Declan for lessons.”

“Damn lessons,” he said with a laugh, then sobered. “You know, I would like that. If this is to be my home—our home—then it ought to feel like such. I wonder who could teach me?”

“Maybe old Petty. Or maybe there’s an archive somewhere.”

“Then we could paint some new slides. What would you like to show?”

“Something with gray in exactly the right amount.” She slipped an arm around his waist. “For you.”

“For me,” he replied, “gray seems far away right now. And by will and activity, maybe I can keep it at bay.”

“If you do not, and if the gray comes over you all the same, then the good things in life will be waiting when it recedes.”

“Will they? What are those good things?” The look in his eye was devilish.

“You’ll have to catch me to find out,” Kate said. And laughing, she ran along the path toward her home, knowing that Evan would be with her all the way.

For more Theresa Romain
check out the Matchmaker Trilogy

It Takes Two to Tangle

On sale now