Sitting in the church pew, Tara’s first inclination was to deny Mr. Sawyer’s announcement.
Around her, heads nodded with approval. There were even smiles on faces.
Tara sat very still, trying not to scream.
Was this how Ruary had felt when she’d left him three years ago? As if he had been betrayed? Was this the way he was paying her back?
If it was, it was remarkably effective.
Aileen reached over and placed her hand over Tara’s. Her empathy at this moment was not welcome.
And then people turned in their seats in her direction, looking at her. She was confused until she realized that Reverend Kinnion had just asked her and Blake to stand for their banns to be announced a third time.
Blake didn’t move.
Aileen had taken back her hand. She sat quiet. Composed. Tara wondered what she was thinking. She’d had fine words for her last night . . . but they had been meaningless. The truth was her sister had been finding love with Blake while Ruary had chosen another.
Anger eased the overburdening pain of a broken heart.
Nor did Tara feel she had any other choice than the decision she must make. In this moment, she hated the valley. She wished she had not come back here.
London was where she belonged, and she could not return there disgraced. She would not allow anyone to ridicule her.
She shot to her feet.
She smiled with a confidence she did not feel.
Slowly, Blake Stephens rose to stand beside her, and Tara knew Aileen had urged him to honor her decision. She could feel the tension in him. Hot tears stung Tara’s eyes. She opened them wide, willing herself not to show emotion.
Reverend Kinnion smiled and read the banns. When he was done, Blake and Tara sat down together. She did not look at him. She knew he was angry. Well, she, too, was disappointed. They’d have to see their way around that. Many couples did. And what was disappointment when compared to pride?
The rest of the service ended quickly.
Tara rose, ready to leave. Aileen and Blake came to their feet as well. Their forward movement was blocked by the earl, who was charming two elderly ladies.
Aileen turned to Blake and whispered, “Apparently the widow Bossley is not in favor.”
Tara looked around the church and saw the sprightly widow standing off to one side, her expression both resentful and yearning as she watched the earl laughing and enjoying himself with others. Last week, she had basked in the earl’s attention.
This week, he didn’t even cast a glance her way.
Having lived with her father in London, Tara knew his ways. He’d enjoyed Mrs. Bossley, but he was done.
Was that always the way between men and women? Tara was beginning to think so.
The earl moved, and Aileen and Blake anxiously slipped around him and hurried off without a backward glance to Tara. They would probably put their heads together and discuss what to do next. Tara had no illusions. She would be the topic of their conversation. Blake would be just as happy to brush her off his hands like dust on a windowsill. Aileen would argue, and in the end she would win . . . because he loved her.
Tara looked over her shoulder at the widow Bossley. She had friends around her now. Tara had no one.
Her father finished his conversation and turned to her. “Shall we go, Daughter?”
“Yes,” Tara agreed, moving out of the row of pews.
The earl placed a hand on her elbow. “It’s good to be in the valley, but I can’t wait to return to the city.”
Her sentiments exactly. “Do you believe it wise to raise Mrs. Bossley’s hopes the way you did?” The widow and her friends had already left. In fact, Tara and the earl were the last to make their way out of the nave.
“Ah, now, Tara, Mrs. Bossley knows what she is about, and so do I. Don’t worry your pretty head about her. Say, did you notice Breccan Campbell sitting in the service?”
Tara frowned. Her world was ending. Her heart was breaking and she was in the process of making an enemy of the man she was to marry. She hadn’t had time to notice who was coming to church.
Fortunately, as usual, her father didn’t need an answer. “I tell you, I’m surprised the roof didn’t cave in on that devil’s head. You could see the shock on people’s faces. I’m certain there are Campbells who go to services, but I’d not thought to see Breccan there. He’s a big, ugly man, isn’t he? He has a good two stone on me and maybe four inches, but his hairy face—” He shivered his opinion. “The man needs a razor, although I doubt if it would help his looks.”
Tara gave her father her back as she said something pleasant to Reverend Kinnion, who was standing by the door.
“Less than a few days until your ceremony,” the reverend reminded her with a smile. “I imagine you are anxious with excitement.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Tara answered, forcing a smile.
Her father stepped up to repeat his comments about Breccan Campbell alarming the Almighty by his appearance in church. “You know how some lads are about the Campbells,” the earl said. “We’re lucky they didn’t spit on the floor in his direction.” Tara didn’t linger to hear the clergyman’s response.
Instead, she scanned the churchyard for sign of Aileen and Blake. They stood by the coach as if waiting for the earl and her. They were obviously in deep discussion. Blake was arguing for something, and Aileen was shaking her head no.
Tara realized she’d best stake her claim on Blake before he convinced Aileen otherwise. She needed to walk over and interrupt them. She set off with that purpose but was waylaid by her cousin Sabrina. They did not know each other well. Sabrina was her sister’s age and often annoyed Tara by treating her as if she was a child, but they were friendly enough.
“Well, you needn’t worry about gossip any longer,” Sabrina said. “Not now that Mr. Jamerson has made his choice.”
Tara felt her feet root to the ground. She frowned at her cousin, pretending not to understand. “What are you talking about?”
“The rumors about you and the horse master.”
“What rumors?”
“The ones that made Jane Sawyer shut him out. He made a good choice. I like Miss Sawyer.”
“Whereas you don’t always like me?” Tara challenged, discovering herself ready for a fight.
Sabrina smiled evenly. “No, I don’t dislike you, Tara, but you are selfish. I understand why. If I had your looks and your father with his own special type of benign neglect, I might behave the same. It is probably not entirely your fault.”
“Why, thank you, Sabrina. How kind of you,” Tara replied, sarcasm in her words. She started walking toward the coach, but her cousin was not done. She reached for Tara’s arm, catching her attention.
“You have an opportunity,” Sabrina said, “to become a good person. I’m glad you didn’t destroy the regard Miss Sawyer and Mr. Jamerson had for each other. It would have been sad if you had.”
“And what of me, Sabrina? Aren’t I entitled to happiness? Or is my face such a curse you would wish the very worst on me?”
“I don’t wish that, Tara. I’m hoping you have a meaningful life. The kind that understands you don’t have the right to take another woman’s man just because you have the ability.”
For a moment, Tara wasn’t certain if Sabrina referred to Miss Sawyer and Ruary or to Aileen and Blake. “Did Aileen tell you about Ruary and me?”
“Your sister is loyal to you. But are you so naive that you think you can meet Mr. Jamerson, a man of a lower social order, for trysts and no one will notice? Or that you can ride aimlessly around Aberfeldy and it will not cause comment?” Sabrina leaned closer. “If so, you should be wiser, Tara.”
“I loved him.” Tara said the words, but the excuse was beginning to sound hollow.
“He wasn’t yours, lass. And let me tell you something else that might surprise you. Looks don’t last forever. Men are different, especially if a man has a title. He can be a fool and thrive.” She nodded at Tara’s father as she said this. He was laughing loudly with two other men. Probably telling them his weak jest about Breccan Campbell in church.
“But we women,” Sabrina continued, “we have to rely on each other. We need friends, people who will stand behind us when things are not good.”
“I have friends.”
“No, you don’t. Not here, not after the whispers about your chasing Mr. Jamerson. And I doubt the debutantes in London have shed a tear at your absence. You are alone, save for your one staunch supporter—your sister.”
“You think she’s perfect,” Tara said, letting her anger show in her voice.
“None of us are that.”
For a second, Tara was tempted to denounce Aileen and Blake. Then Sabrina might understand Tara’s side of the story.
At the same time, Sabrina’s words had pierced Tara deeply. She had never thought of herself as being disliked. She’d never worried about it. There were women who were jealous of her, but they didn’t dislike her . . . did they?
In some ways, she realized, she was a bit obtuse, like the earl. And few people liked him.
The thought did not rest easy with her. However, when Tara felt threatened, she backed away, which was what she did now.
Her cousin watched her, a slightly superior smile on her face. Tara would adore the opportunity to wipe it off her—except Sabrina might have been right. Tara turned and walked away.
Aileen and Blake had apparently settled the argument they’d had. They were already in the coach, sitting so that they faced each other.
Simon helped Tara into the vehicle. She hesitated a moment, then chose to sit by her sister.
There was a moment of quiet, then Aileen said, “You two must marry.”
Blake looked out the window at nothing.
Tara sat very still. She had no answer. None at all.