EPILOGUE
Two men—one older, one younger—reined in their horses and sat in the shadows along the deserted lane. Night was falling, and the sky was a relaxing lavender color that would soon fade to indigo, then to black. The late summer weather was pleasant, the country woods quiet and peaceful.
They didn’t pay much attention to their surroundings though. They were rough fellows, accustomed to hard living and difficult conditions. Heavily armed with pistols, swords, and knives, they might have been bandits or outlaws bent on felonious activity. When they passed through a village, people furtively pointed and scurried out of the way.
They could have moderated their appearance. Being rich now, they had the funds to buy a gentleman’s clothes. Yet too often, Fate had pummeled them, and without warning events could spiral out of control. They were always prepared for any kind of peril.
Neither of them had expected to ever return to England, and while they were capable of committing mayhem they weren’t currently looking for trouble. They had bigger issues and enemies to confront.
After so many years away, it was nice to be back. They hadn’t thought it would be and had convinced themselves that—after their dire experiences in foreign lands—it would feel strange and awkward. But it was enjoyable to cross paths with those who spoke their language and exhibited familiar customs.
They’d stopped at the entrance to a grand estate, and there was a sign that announced the name of the imposing place.
The older man gestured to it. “There it is: Wallace Downs.”
The younger man snorted with disgust and jumped down from the saddle. He spat in the dirt.
“That’s what I think of Wallace Downs.”
“Do you suppose his eminent self, Alexander Wallace, is in residence?”
“From the chatter in the local tavern, he must be.”
“Are you surprised he’s still alive?”
“No. He was too smart to perish in an accident, too cunning to grow ill, and it would take a powerful foe to kill him.”
“Someone like you for instance?”
The younger man’s smile was grim. “Yes, someone exactly like me.”
“Shall we ride up and knock on his door? You could say hello.”
“I’m not in the mood. If I saw him, I’d probably murder him.”
“Even after all this time?”
“Even after.”
Sarcastically, the older man said, “And here I assumed you’d learned some Christian values like forgiveness and charity.”
“I don’t have a forgiving bone in my body. You know that.”
“No, you don’t, I’m delighted to report.”
The posts holding up the estate sign had been decorated with flowers and streamers of ribbon. The younger man went over, grabbed a handful of flowers, and yanked them away. He threw them on the ground and crushed them under the heel of his boot.
“What sort of vain idiot decorates his entrance sign?” he asked, scoffing with disgust.
“They’re planning a wedding, remember? It’s likely for the benefit of guests who will be arriving—so they can find where to turn their carriages.”
“Bugger their carriages,” the younger man muttered.
“Gossip at the tavern has it that Alex Wallace is to be the groom.”
“Who would marry him? What female would be that stupid?”
“He’s a rich asshole. Any desperate ninny would agree.”
Their disdain of the rich was legendary. They were wary of any dolt who had too much money—except for themselves. They’d witnessed too many wealthy prigs using it for nefarious purposes.
“If he’s marrying again,” the younger man said, “that tart, Eugenia, must have died.”
“Eugenia was his wife way back when?”
“Yes.”
“Before we travel on, are you positive you wouldn’t like to visit him? You’d catch him unawares, and you could shoot him right between the eyes. It would definitely ruin his wedding day.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” The younger man chuckled. “The notion almost makes me consider it.”
But they weren’t about to engage in violence. They’d journeyed too far and had suffered through unbearable obstacles. They weren’t about to land themselves in a jam at the last minute.
His quarrel with Alex Wallace was in the past, when he’d been little more than a boy. It was time to look to the future, to settle claims and regroup so they could move to the spots where they’d always belonged.
He walked to his horse and leapt into the saddle.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t like to call on him?” the older man inquired. “He’s had it coming for a decade.”
The younger man pondered, staring down the lane to where the manor house would be situated.
Ultimately, he shook his head. “I don’t care about him.”
“I could swear he’s been haunting you forever.”
“He’s been a ghost, but he’s finally vanished in the distance.”
“Really?” The older man didn’t believe the denials for a second.
“Yes, really. I’m just anxious to be home. I want to see what’s left of the place.”
“Not much, I’m predicting.”
“You can’t be sure of that. My sisters would have watched over it for me.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“You don’t know my sisters.”
“No, I don’t, but you shouldn’t get your hopes up. Women can’t be trusted to behave appropriately so it’s probably a dilapidated mess.”
“Let’s go see anyway.”
Hayden Henley tugged on the reins and turned away from Wallace Downs. His great friend, protector, and mentor, Robert Stone, turned too. Together—as they’d been for an eternity—they trotted off, eager to reach the one location Hayden yearned to be.
On to Middlebury, as fast as his horse could carry him there.
THE END