CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“A letter from Jasper? You’re joking. What nonsense has he spewed now?”
“He commands me to attend him. At once!”
Alex Wallace glanced over at his wife, Abigail, and snorted with amusement.
Abigail chuckled. “Will you obey his mighty self?”
“Well, Jasper is Earl of Middlebury and the head of your family. How could I ignore a summons from such an important personage?”
“You know I view him as a complete buffoon. After all this time, I have no idea why he’d write to you.”
“It’s because of the wedding. He had your sister, Catherine, race here to rescue you, but she never returned to Middlebury and never brought you back with her. Obviously, you haven’t escaped my dastardly clutches.”
“He’s such an idiot.”
“He’ll be determined to set me straight and tell me I absolutely do not have his permission to wed you.”
They were in the dining room at Wallace Downs, and Abigail was eating her breakfast. He was over by the window, feeling restless and fidgety and eager to blow off some steam.
“I never should have sent him an invitation,” Abigail said.
“Is this the point where I say, I told you so?”
“No, it’s not!” Abigail firmly stated. “You don’t get to rub it in. I was trying to establish some family harmony by having him walk me down the aisle.”
“And I thought it would be ridiculous. You’re aware that I can’t bear to look out at the pews during the ceremony and see people I despise.”
“Yes, but then, you despise practically everyone. If I’d left the guest list up to you, we’d stare out at an empty church.”
“In my book, that wouldn’t be so bad.”
The whole discussion about guests and lists was fairly irrelevant.
Months earlier, he’d married Abigail with a Special License. He’d been in a hurry to shackle her to his side, and he hadn’t wanted to give her too much opportunity to ponder her decision. With his scandalous history and prior divorce, he’d realized he wasn’t much of a catch, and as an incentive so she’d agree to the slapdash ritual, he’d promised her a grand wedding later on.
It was two weeks away now, and his home was in a frantic whirl of preparation that was exhausting for a man who’d wed previously when he was much too young and who’d sworn he’d never marry again.
Yet at the chance to have a lavish party, Abigail was incredibly happy, and when he’d originally married her, he’d vowed to himself that he would dedicate his life to ensuring she was happy. He was very rich, and he relished being able to spoil her.
He enjoyed watching her work on the arrangements, but all that female energy was overwhelming. He’d just as soon flee it by going hunting or drinking in the local tavern with his new brothers-in-law.
He frowned. “You don’t suppose Jasper might show up to stop us, do you? I would hate to have him ruin your big day.”
“How could he stop us?”
“There’s that line in the vows about objecting to the match. What if he blustered in and objected?”
“In order to interfere, he’d have to bestir himself to travel to Wallace Downs, which would mean he’d have to take an interest in what was happening to me.”
“True.”
“He went very far out on a limb by having Catherine convey a message for him, and now, he’s sent you a letter. I can’t picture him attempting more than that.”
When Jasper had ascended to the title, he’d been awful to Abigail and her sisters. His wife, Desdemona, had been even worse. They’d contended that Abigail’s father had bankrupted the estate and squandered their dowries—a charge none of them believed and Alex had lawyers investigating—so Jasper had refused to support them.
At the time, Catherine and Sarah had been fourteen and Abigail fifteen. They’d been thrown out into the world and forced to toil away for wages.
It was such an affront to them, to their father’s memory, to all of their ancestors. It was also such a failure on Jasper’s part to competently assume the responsibilities placed on his shoulders by his rank and station.
With his discovering Abigail was about to wed Alex—when Jasper had expressly commanded her not to—he’d penned the cocky, undignified letter that had just been delivered. He insisted Alex ride to Middlebury to speak with him.
Alex had problems with his temper, and he yearned to devise an excuse to pound Jasper into the ground for the many insults he’d inflicted on Abigail and her sisters. Perhaps a quick trip to Middlebury would provide him with the chance he sought.
“He didn’t even sign his name,” Alex complained.
“How did he sign it?”
“He wrote that Lord Middlebury demands I attend him immediately. As if I wouldn’t know it’s Jasper.”
“He’s always been extremely vain.”
“It’s galling to have him refer to himself in the third person. You’d think he was the bloody King.”
“Language, Alex,” she scolded as the twins dashed by out in the hall.
He hollered after them, “Where are you off to in such a rush?”
They halted, exchanged one of their private glances, then Millie said, “Nowhere.”
“Nowhere?” He scoffed. “Then why are you running?”
“We’ll be out in the park,” Mary claimed.
“If I look out in a few minutes, will you be there?”
“Of course.”
They skittered off, and he rolled his eyes. They were so sneaky in their relationship with each other, so sly in their attitude toward grownups.
It was his own fault. For the first few years that they’d resided at Wallace Downs, he hadn’t treated them very well. With their being Hayden Henley’s daughters, he hadn’t ever figured out how to interact with them. It had taken Abigail’s arrival to make him quit being such an ass and welcome them as members of the family. They were all learning their way together.
But the twins didn’t necessarily trust him—or any adult for that matter. They had secrets, and they were proficient at keeping them. Alex needed a shovel to pry out the least bit of information.
“If those two were boys,” Alex said, “they couldn’t be more of a trial. I thought girls were supposed to be easier to raise than boys.”
“That shows how little you know.”
“What are they up to these days? Recently, they’ve been positively furtive.”
“Don’t you mean more furtive than usual?”
“Yes. I’m never sure of where they are or what they’re doing.”
“They’ve become friends with some of the tenants’ children.”
“Friends are good.” In his opinion, they’d always been much too isolated.
“They’ve been locked in their own world for too long,” Abigail pointed out. “It’s an affirmative step that they’re acting like children. I won’t pester them about it. They can be so odd, and I’m afraid they’ll stop playing.”
They certainly could be odd, and many of their peculiarities were due to his pretending for ages that he wasn’t their father—and technically he wasn’t. They were used to lurking in the shadows, tiptoeing about, and eavesdropping on conversations. If they didn’t behave exactly how he wanted, he had only himself to blame.
“Let’s get back to our original topic,” he said.
“What was it again?”
“The high-and-mighty Earl of Middlebury.”
“Ignore him, Alex, or you’ll work yourself into a lather.”
“Actually, I’m bored. I think I’ll ride to Middlebury and chat with him.”
She tossed down her fork. “You’re not riding to Middlebury.”
“It will be my entertainment for the month.”
“You have plenty of entertainment right here, and we have a house filled with guests.”
“Christopher is as bored as I am.” Christopher was Catherine’s husband. “I’ll ask him to accompany me.”
“You’ll be gone all day and most of tomorrow too.”
“Yes, thank goodness. A fellow can only tolerate so much wedding talk.”
He’d vexed her, and her temper was sparking, which he always enjoyed. When she was angry, her pretty eyes were even bluer than normal.
“Jasper can be such an ass,” she said. “What if he’s rude to you?”
“What if he is?”
“You’ll be enraged, and you’ll end up punching him.”
“I won’t punch him. I promise.”
“What if he persuades you not to wed me?”
At the ludicrous comment, he chuckled. “I already wed you, and even if I hadn’t, it would take more than the words of an idiot to convince me it was a bad idea.”
“He’s such a dunce, and I’m so happy. I don’t want him to wreck anything.”
“He never could, Abigail.”
He walked over and kissed her, both of them sighing with contentment.
“I’ll try to return tonight,” he said, “but if I don’t, please don’t worry. It’ll be tomorrow for sure.”
“Catherine will be furious if you traipse off with her husband.”
“Christopher is much too henpecked, and Catherine should loosen her apron strings.”
Abigail grinned. “I’m telling her that you think he’s henpecked.”
“Well, he is. He dotes on her.”
“You don’t dote on me?”
“No, I spoil you. There’s a huge difference.”
“Go, go.” She waved him out.
He kissed her again. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Don’t you dare punch anybody.”
“Me? Punch someone? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And don’t tell lies!” she called, but he was already down the hall and headed for the stairs so he could locate Christopher.
He assumed his brother-in-law would tag along. He was as exhausted by the wedding festivities as Alex was, and if he declined, Alex would take the trip by himself. There were too many feminine trappings clogging the house, and he was feeling as if he couldn’t breathe. It would be humorous to waste some time listening to Jasper Henley rant.
He’d laugh all the way home.
Within the hour, he and Christopher left, and they’d both been giddy at the notion of escape. They trotted out onto the main road and were traveling through his woods when he tugged on the reins and pulled his horse to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” Christopher asked.
“I noticed some mischief I shouldn’t have,” Alex replied. “Wait for me.”
He leapt down and went back several dozen yards. He was certain he’d seen the twins precisely where they shouldn’t have been. They’d seen him too, and they’d flinched and ducked behind a tree.
He marched into the forest, and he stood, searching for them, but they were quiet as mice. Ultimately, he shouted, “Mary! Millie! Come out right now.”
They didn’t move, but he sensed them huddled close, their devious minds carrying on a frantic conversation only they could decipher.
“Come out!” He struggled to tamp down his exasperation. “I’m busy, and I don’t have the patience for your games.”
There was another lengthy pause, then they popped up out in the grass. Reluctantly, they trudged over to him. He wouldn’t have been annoyed—he never usually was with them—but they appeared so guilty. What the devil were they plotting?
“What are you doing out here?” They peeked at each other, secrets flying between them, and he said, “Don’t look at each other. Look at me, and one of you start talking.”
“Are you leaving?” Millie asked.
“Yes, for the day and perhaps tomorrow, but don’t change the subject. I could have sworn you informed me you’d be in the park.”
“We will play there—in a bit,” Mary said.
“In the meantime, you’re dawdling by the road where you’re not supposed to be. Your Aunt Abigail would be awfully aggravated if she found out.”
They hated to upset Abigail, and Millie frowned. “You won’t tell her, will you?”
“That depends on what I hear from you in the next thirty seconds.”
He dropped to his knees so they were eye to eye, and he noted Mary was clutching a pouch, that they’d tied ribbons around it as a decoration.
“What’s that?” They didn’t answer, and he held out his hand. “Let me see.”
She laid it in his palm, and he opened it to find a rolled piece of parchment. He flattened it out to discover they’d sketched themselves, and it was a very good likeness too.
He put it in the pouch and gave it back.
“It’s a terrific drawing,” Alex told them. “It looks just like you.”
“Do you think so?” Millie seemed relieved.
“Yes. Which of you did it?”
“We did it together.”
“Now why are you out here and what about the picture?” They didn’t speak, and he was irked by their reticence. “Well…? Will you explain it to me? Or should we go to the manor and you can explain to your aunt?”
Millie was always the braver of the two, and she admitted, “It’s a gift.”
“For who?”
“For someone. We’re waiting for him.”
“For…him.” Alex’s pulse raced. “Are you waiting for a boy or a man?”
“Maybe a man,” Millie said, “but maybe a ghost.”
“A ghost.”
He might have teased them, but he couldn’t. They were so serious.
“This ghost,” Alex carefully stated, “you’re anxious for him to have a picture of you?”
“Yes, so he’ll remember what we look like.”
Alex was their father, but he really wasn’t. He didn’t have many paternal skills, wasn’t particularly adept at addressing difficult issues, and didn’t comprehend how a girl’s mind worked. He had Abigail to manage the more complex problems.
“You know there’s no such thing as ghosts, right?” he asked.
Mary shrugged, and Millie mumbled, “Probably not.”
“Who is this ghost?” he inquired. “If you had to describe him, who might he be?” At the question, they appeared stricken, and he said, “You can tell me.”
Millie slipped her hand into Mary’s, and they squeezed their fingers.
“Don’t be angry.” Millie was practically begging.
“Have I ever been angry with you?”
“No.”
“Then why would I begin now?”
“And don’t laugh either,” she somberly pleaded.
“I won’t laugh.”
She took a deep breath, then said, “It might be our father.”
“Viscount Henley? Hayden Henley?”
“Yes.” They nodded in unison.
He had to tamp down a gasp of surprise. If he’d run through an entire list of names of all the men in the kingdom, he wouldn’t have picked that one.
“You believe you saw him?”
“Yes, and he promised he’d come back.”
“Why would you think it was your father?”
“I just…knew,” Millie said.
“Your father is dead, Millie,” he sternly advised.
“Probably,” she repeated.
“Why would you say probably? You’re old enough to understand—when a person passes away—they’re gone forever.”
“Aunt Sarah visited a fortuneteller.”
Alex winced. “She did, did she?”
“Yes, and she was talking about it to Aunt Catherine. The man told her our father is still alive, so we’ve been watching for him.”
“Millie spoke to him,” Mary added, “and he touched her nose.”
Millie flashed a warning glare, and Mary bit down on her lips, as if physically holding in further comment.
They seemed so sure and—as with his interactions with Abigail—he never could bear to upset them. He couldn’t guess what was transpiring, but he hoped there wasn’t some idiot engaged in a cruel jest. If Alex learned there was, he’d have to make somebody pay, and Abigail was so proud of how she’d curbed his worst impulses.
“It would be a miracle if he were alive,” he said, “but you have to recognize that he’s not. It’s fun to dream though, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” they responded.
“It’s fun to wish.”
“Yes.”
“And it’s fun to draw him a picture and wonder if you’ll get to give it to him someday.”
“We worked hard so it would be perfect.”
“I can tell,” he murmured. He stood and rested a palm on both their heads. “You need to return to the manor.”
“Must we?” Millie asked.
“I’m leaving, so I can’t tarry to see if you obey me, but I expect you will. It’s not safe for you to loaf by the road.”
Millie scoffed. “Who would cause trouble at Wallace Downs? Who would dare? Any miscreant would know you’d never allow it.”
“I never anticipate trouble, but if something bad happened to you, I’d feel terrible. You wouldn’t want to make me feel terrible, would you?”
“No.”
“Then I trust you’ll heed me, and I better not catch you lurking out here again.”
Mary found her tongue. “But…but…what if he stops by, and we miss him? What then?”
Alex had no answer for her. He simply gestured toward the manor. “You go on.”
They hemmed and hawed, then plodded away. He stared until they vanished from view. Typically, they were very well behaved, but they were determined to linger. After he departed, they’d likely sneak back.
When he returned, he’d have Abigail deal with it. At the moment, he had an appointment at Middlebury. He went to the road where Christopher was patiently waiting with the horses.
“What is it?” Christopher asked. “Were you talking to the twins?”
“I was, and you won’t believe what they’ve gotten up to now.”
“Yes, I will. Those two are more than a handful.”
“I’ll explain as we ride.” Alex mounted his horse, and they started off. “Don’t have children, Christopher. Or at least, don’t have daughters.”
“Since my wife is already increasing, it’s a little late to caution me about it.”
“Pray you have boys. They can’t possibly be as peculiar as girls.”
* * * *
“I have to confide in you or I’ll bust.”
“Over what?”
“First, you have to promise you won’t tell a soul.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
Simon gazed at Helen and smiled a reassuring smile. He was out on the verandah again, sitting at a patio table and enjoying more of Hayden’s brandy. Hayden didn’t mind if Simon imbibed, and he was absolutely imbibing. He loved hard spirits, and when he was a minister at a church, parishioners demanded he be so pious, even though he had few moral tendencies.
It was another lazy summer afternoon, the season quickly drawing to a close. Soon, autumn would arrive, then winter. As the weather changed, where would they all be?
He hoped he’d be at Middlebury with Helen, but he wasn’t about to let himself brim with optimism. Hayden was the very definition of a loose cannon, his past tribulations rendering him erratic and unpredictable. He had so many issues on his plate, and a misplaced affection for his housekeeper wouldn’t keep him up at night.
Initially, Simon had thought he and Becky could scheme and bring about a union, but he’d been throwing hints at Hayden as if they were sharp darts, and none of them had stuck. He’d begun to suspect they never would.
He wouldn’t inform Helen though. When she was in Hayden’s company, her fondness was almost painful to witness.
If he’d been a good father—which he’d never been—and if he’d had anywhere else to go, he’d have whisked Helen away from Hayden Henley before her heart was broken into a thousand pieces.
“What have you done?” he asked her. “The day has been so boring. Please tell me it’s wildly outrageous.”
“It might be outrageous. I’m trying to decide. We’ve been debating Hayden’s dilemma and how he should approach Alex Wallace.”
“Yes. I feel the two men should privately resolve matters between themselves prior to the other parties being involved. Mr. Wallace has been the twins’ father. If there’s to be a reconciliation, it should commence with him.”
“I agree.” She gulped with dismay, suddenly looking very guilty. “I sent Mr. Wallace a letter from the Earl of Middlebury, ordering him to come here immediately.”
“You didn’t say who the earl was?”
“No.”
“You scamp! How diabolical. He’ll presume it’s from Jasper.”
“Yes. I was sufficiently snobbish that it should goad him into visiting.” She wrung her hands. “He and Hayden are a decade older now. Will they be able to rationally converse?”
“You and I can be in the room with them, and we’ll enlist Mr. Stone’s assistance. He’s good at dealing with Hayden. We’ll make them see sense.”
“Do you think we can?”
“We’ll give it our best shot.” He reached over and patted her knee. “When should we expect him?”
“Right away? In the letter, I claimed Jasper wished to discuss the wedding, and he wasn’t happy about it.”
“Mr. Wallace is such a proud oaf that he’ll be eager to set the earl straight.”
“My fingers are crossed that it will occur exactly like that. If he doesn’t appear shortly, we’re back to square one.”
“I can travel to Wallace Downs as an intermediary, and Hayden liked that idea. I can dust off my preacher’s collar. I’ll have more gravitas that way.”
“Let’s wait a few days to learn if my plan works.”
“Hayden is growing impatient,” Simon reminded her. “He wants it resolved.”
“We’ll have to invent reasons to delay. Mr. Wallace should be apprised about Hayden somewhere besides Wallace Downs. Then he can decide how to tell the twins—and Abigail Henley.”
“Well, he certainly knows them better than any of us.”
“And…ah…after that crisis is over, I was wondering if you might…ah…”
To his surprise, Helen was stammering, nervous and wary and quite worn down, and he chuckled. “What’s wrong, Helen? You’re in a total dither.”
“I’ve been thinking about Hayden.”
“What about him?”
“You’ll view me as mad, but I believe he’s very fond of me.”
“Of course he is. How could he not be?”
“I’m simply curious if…ah…we could persuade him to marry me.”
Simon grinned. “Have you been fretting over it?”
“I probably shouldn’t have, but I can’t help it. I’m convinced he’s a typically obtuse male who doesn’t realize how much he cares about me.”
“That may be true,” he cautiously said.
“If his affection is pointed out to him, it might make a difference.”
“Would you want him as a husband, Helen? In light of his ordeal, he’ll have many problems in his life. Problems with his temper, problems with his comportment. His wife will have to assume many burdens.”
“I know.”
“There are two daughters tossed into the mix too, and it will only add to the difficulties. What kind of upbringing have they had? What kind of children are they? His bride will become their stepmother and will have charge of them. However much Hayden insists he’d like them to be here, his wife will wind up as their parent.”
“I know that too. I could aid him and his daughters. I’m sure of it, and it would actually be very exciting.”
For a moment, her mask slipped, and he glimpsed how fervidly she was pining away. The discovery left him very sad. He didn’t suppose any amount of nudging Hayden would sway him to seriously consider Helen.
Simon had repeatedly attempted to slyly raise the subject with him, but had been curtly rebuffed and no discussion held.
Hayden was focused on many topics, none of which involved his abrupt marriage to a girl he’d met while traveling. Theirs was like a shipboard romance, a passing fling shared by strangers who were caught up in odd circumstances.
Simon would pray for a miracle, but the possibility of one transpiring was fading fast.
A disturbing notion occurred to him, and he asked, “You haven’t been…misbehaving with him, have you?”
“No!” she hastily said.
“He hasn’t been pressuring you into acts you’re not comfortable committing?”
“No, Simon. It’s simply that I’m so attached to him, and I can’t imagine our ever parting. You could spur him to recognize that he can’t imagine our parting either.”
“I can try, Helen. I want you to be happy.”
“You’re so good at talking. If you start in on him, he won’t stand a chance.”
If only that were true…
“No, he won’t.”
She stood. “I have to get back to the kitchen. Some of the prior Henley retainers are stopping by to inquire about their old positions. All of a sudden, I’m having to interview people. It’s hectic.”
“I’ll see you at supper, and if you hear any word from Mr. Wallace, notify me at once.”
“I will.”
She flitted into the house, to her chores and her interviews. He sighed and sipped his brandy, wondering how it would all end.
He should have jumped up and located Hayden. He should have had a frank chat about his intentions. But he was positive—if he dared mention a connection again—he’d be laughed out of the room or maybe even kicked out of the manor for pestering the busy, exalted man.
Simon wasn’t a glutton for punishment and would rock no boats. That sort of candid conversation could wait. Probably forever.