Sometimes a rescue is nothing more than an entrapment.
Lady Warlock
The door bolt slid, then the hinges squeaked in protest.
Avalon shot up off Devan’s chest at the noise. Though he grunted at her abrupt departure, he slowly rose in tandem with her. She rubbed her cheek where lines of sleep from lying against his chest marred her face. Though she looked a bit disheveled, as anyone would from spending the night in a wine cellar, he thought her radiant. Immediately, he wanted to kiss her again.
A lone candle lit the doorway and a small black head of hair peaked around the door.
“Maman? Are you in here?”
“Thane,” Avalon cried as she rushed forward. “Thank goodness.” She dropped to her knees against the cold floor and hugged her son. “You found us.”
The worry on the boy’s face made Devan’s chest tighten. “Who’s us?”
“Mr. Farris and I.”
“Did you spend the night in here?”
“I did.” Avalon kissed his cheek. “But I’m right as rain, my love.”
Then the lad focused on Devan, his eyes round as saucers. “Are you going to marry her?”
Avalon stood and shook her head in denial. “Darling, I’m not ruined.”
Thane blinked twice in confusion. “Did you spend the night alone with him?”
“Well … yes.” Avalon’s gaze darted to his. Soundlessly, she mouthed, “Say something.”
Devan closed the distance between Avalon and Thane, praying he’d find the correct words to calm the boy. His chest tightened. This was a situation he had no experience with.
“Thane, it’s perfectly understandable that you’re a little bewildered.” Devan knelt beside the young boy and placed an arm on his shoulder. “It’s admirable how worried you are for your mother’s reputation. If it was my mother, I’d feel the same way. Shows you’re taking the responsibilities of the marquisate to heart.”
Immediately, the boy stood taller.
“Allow your mother and me to have a conversation.” He cleared his throat. “When two people think about marrying, there are numerous things to consider. She and I would need time to make certain we were compatible. We’d want to ensure that we could build a good life for you.”
“And each other.” Thane smiled brightly. “Of that I have no doubt. We’d make an excellent family. When you discuss the wedding, I should like to attend. I’ll make certain you have all the information necessary to make the decision.”
“Thane, there’s no need.” A flush swept across Avalon’s cheeks, and the crispness in her voice signaled her prickliness had returned after its hiatus from last night. “The vicar and I are two adults who don’t need chaperones. We’d have to … No harm was done.” She blinked slowly, then straightened to her full height under her son’s unrelenting gaze.
“Mother, your dress is skewed and gaping in the bodice.” The boy’s voice had a sudden deepness that sent chills running down Devan’s back. “Your hair is down. Don’t worry. The vicar will do what’s necessary.”
Avalon’s brow pinched into neat lines.
“Don’t you want to marry him, Mother?” Thane asked earnestly.
“Thane,” Devan said with as much kindness as he could muster under the circumstances.
“He’s a good man,” Thane urged. “You’ll be happy.”
Avalon’s cheeks turned a deep pink.
“Don’t embarrass your mother.” This time there was a little more emphasis in his words.
The young lord turned his razor gaze to Devan. “I’m making an observation, that’s all.”
“My lady,” Henri exclaimed as she rushed into the room. “We were so worried when we couldn’t find you. When I came into your chambers this morning and discovered you hadn’t slept in your bed, I immediately summoned Mr. Neville.”
The butler followed right behind her. “I’d thought Mr. Farris had left and you’d gone to bed.” The poor butler wrung his hands. “The young master was the one who suggested we search down here. I should have never left your side.”
“There’s no need to worry, Mr. Neville.” She smiled with an ease that gave assurance that all was in order. “Both Mr. Farris and I are so happy you have found us.”
But after last night, Devan knew she was like a capsizing ship desperately trying not to go under. Her son meant the world to her. If Avalon thought that last night would give Thane a false expectation they’d marry or confuse the boy about the truth of their friendship, she’d put distance between them. His stomach roiled at such a thought even if it was understandable.
“The vicar and I would like to freshen up,” Avalon said in her most efficient voice. She turned to Devan. “Afterward, will you join me for breakfast, Mr. Farris?”
Now they were back to addressing each other as Mr. Farris and Lady Warwyk. He wiped one hand down his face, hoping to erase his fatigue. The bristles on his face reminded him he had a fright. He needed a shave and bath immediately, but unfortunately under the circumstances, he needed to speak with Avalon in private before Thane’s concerns were addressed. He nodded, and instantly, Avalon swept from the room with her entire entourage, including him, falling in step behind her.
Within the half hour, Devan found himself seated in the Warwyk Hall small breakfast room after seeing to his immediate needs. The intimate dining area, the one reserved for family, featured peach silk wallcoverings and lent the room a soft touch, one that reminded him of Avalon.
She took a sip of tea, then folded her hands. “I must apologize for Thane’s behavior. He’s trying to protect me the best way he knows how.” The tightness around her mouth gave away her discomfort at having to discuss last night. “My staff is loyal and won’t say a word about our spending the night together.”
“If you’re worried about my housekeeper, Mrs. McVey, don’t be.” He leaned his elbows on the arms of the chair and leaned back against the blue velvet upholstery. “It was her customary night off.”
The chair’s softness was a perfect antidote to the wooden cases he’d slept against last night. But nothing could replace the feel of the vital, warm woman across the table who he’d held in his arms. He shook his head to clear such thoughts. He had more important things to discuss.
Avalon carefully laid her serviette next to her untouched plate, then regarded him. “Sophia won’t say a word. I’ll stress how important it is not to share this with others. As a sister, her loyalty is unquestionable.”
He nodded. “I have little doubt of that. Her affection for you is great.”
“I’m more like her mother than our own was.” Avalon leaned toward him. “There’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”
The air that separated them still possessed that crackle of awareness that arced between them. Every part of him seemed primed to act. It would take little on his part to cross the distance and kiss her again. He’d never felt as alive as he had last night when he’d made love to her mouth with his.
There was no other way to describe their kiss. For a thousand times last night and today, he thought of making love to her. Images of her supple body beneath his while he lost himself in her embrace conjured all sorts of pleasurable torture. But last night could not be repeated, so the quicker he accepted that fact, the quicker he could set aside such thoughts.
Who was he fooling? There was something unique about Avalon, and he was determined to find out more about her. But he’d not force her into anything she didn’t want. She possessed a painful past with memories that wouldn’t be erased with one night together.
“Avalon.” He cleared his throat, then slowly took her hand in his. Smooth, soft, but with a hidden strength. He tightened his fingers around hers. “What do you want to do? Should we consider marriage?”
“There’s no need,” she said lightly as if he’d made a comment about the weather. Her perfect mouth curved into a smile. “I do hope we can remain friends. I have so few in my life.”
“I will always be your … friend.” He bit his lip to keep from saying any more. The sting of disappointment dug into every inch of him. For that singular moment in time, he wanted her to say yes. He wanted her for his wife. It was a strange feeling considering they’d been at odds for so long. But somehow, they created something very special between them because of last night, a bond he’d cherish forever.
Before Avalon could respond, the door opened.
As if the Almighty found hilarity at his expense, his two best friends, Paul Barstowe, the Duke of Southart, and William, Lord Cavensham, who’d recently been named a baron, sauntered into the breakfast room with the cheekiest grins plastered on their faces. Reluctantly, Devan let go of Avalon’s hand.
The two men immediately sobered when they saw his face.
“Who died?” Lord Cavensham asked.
“By the looks of it, I’d wager it was his dog, but he doesn’t have one,” Southart drawled.
Avalon almost felt normal after taking a hot bath and changing into a fresh gown. Her muscles still protested the damp cold of the wine cellar if the stiffness in her lower back was any indication. “When did the Duke of Southart and Lord Cavensham arrive?” She eased into the slipper chair that sat directly in front of her dressing table.
Her lady’s maid pulled Avalon’s hairpins from her pocket and laid them on the table. She picked up her brush and started to work on untangling the knots that currently resided in Avalon’s hair. “His Grace made mention that they’d gone to the vicarage first, and when no one was around, Lord Cavensham thought it wise to come see you about the charity event.”
“Well, I’m glad they were here, when Dev—the vicar took his leave. The poor man looked like he couldn’t walk to the end of the drive let alone the mile back to his home.”
“What exactly happened down in the cellar?” Henri pretended to be interested in arranging Avalon’s hair, but she knew that innocent but niggling hint of curiosity in Henri’s voice.
“Nothing.” Avalon closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could still smell Devan’s musky essence. She released it on a sigh. “We fell asleep next to one another under his greatcoat.”
Without any noticeable response, Henri continued to fuss with Avalon’s hair. She took an unruly curl between her fingers, then pinned it in place with a jeweled hairclip. Though it looked expensive, both of them knew it was a piece of paste jewelry. Avalon had sold the real jeweled hairpins a year after Richard had died. They were the last pieces of jewelry to be sold. She’d hated to part with them, as they were her favorites, but the money went to a good cause. It helped establish Annie in her lace business.
“My lady, may I make a suggestion?”
Avalon caught Henri’s gaze in the mirror. “Of course.”
“Have you thought about taking a lover? You’re so young to give up finding happiness for yourself.”
“I’m a mother raising her son to take over this vast and beautiful estate. I don’t have time for a lover. Besides if Larkton found out, he might take Thane from me.” She shook her head, vehemently dislodging the same unruly curl that Henri had fixed before. “It’s out of the question.”
“Nothing is ever out of the question, my lady.” Her maid’s eyes darted to the curl and with an efficiency gained through the years, she pinned it back in place with two pins, thus ensuring it wouldn’t fall again. “You should allow yourself a little joy in your life.” Henri stopped fussing with Avalon’s hair and propped a hand on her hip. “By my way of thinking, the Lord knows you work hard enough. Perhaps He sent you the vicar as a little reward on this heavenly earth. Have you ever thought of that?” Henri raised her eyebrows, challenging Avalon to refute her logic.
“He’s a vicar. Mr. Farris isn’t that type of a man, Henri.” Avalon blew out a breath. “I’m not even certain he likes me. He calls me Lady Warlock.”
For the first time that morning, Henri laughed. “My mother always said that you tease the ones you love.”
“He doesn’t love me.” Perhaps there was a glimmer of truth in Henri’s words. Last night his tender attentions let her believe he truly cared for her.
“Don’t be so certain.” Henri raised a single eyebrow in challenge. “Something happened in that cellar last night. You’re different this morning.”
“Of course I am.” Avalon turned in her chair and faced Henri. “I barely managed to get an hour’s worth of sleep last night. The soiree is only two days away, and guests will soon arrive. I’m a little unsettled, and I’m sure it’s showing on my face.”
“That’s not it.” Henri studied her face. “Your eyes are brighter, and cheeks are rosier. You look happy.”
“Of course I’m happy.” Avalon waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m happy to be out of the wine cellar.”
“You’re not telling me something. Did he kiss you? Or did something more than kissing happen down there?”
Henri kept on staring at her, and Avalon refused to look away.
After critically evaluating Avalon, Henri broke the silence between them. “You are a good woman who deserves to have a man care for you. You need someone who will teach you what I and the rest of your family already know.” Henri reached forward and affectionately tapped Avalon in the chest. “You are a worthy person who deserves love. You don’t have to tell me what happened. I shouldn’t have pried, but I want you happy.”
“Thank you, Henri.” Tears welled in Avalon’s eyes. Without meaning to, Henri tore away the carefully constructed barriers around Avalon’s heart with her loving words and revealed Avalon’s real weakness.
How many people in her life thought she was a worthwhile person? The answer was simple. Henri, her son and sister, the women she’d helped, and perhaps a few of the villagers thought of her that way. She’d created her own haven here in Thistledown, and she was proud of it.
It was enough. It had to be. She couldn’t afford anything else, not until Thane was old enough to manage things on his own. Then perhaps she’d think about moving back to London. Hopefully, Sophia would marry and live in the city. Avalon would find ways to fill her days. It was a waste of time to wish for more.
Yet, she yearned for someone of her own to share all the moments of her life with. Someone like Devan.
Henri closed the distance between them and hugged her.
Avalon hadn’t even realized it, but tears streamed down her face. That her future promised nothing more than a bleak and lonely existence was a bitter truth she had to accept. She sobbed aloud, then brought a hand to cover her mouth. She would have given every last penny she possessed to have a man see the real her. A man who could see all her faults and still love her.
Last night she’d pretended Devan was that man and it’d been heaven.
How was she ever going to look at him again without wanting him in her life?
Devan rubbed a hand across his cleanly shaven chin, then leaned back in his chair. Across his desk sat Paul Barstowe, the Duke of Southart, and William, Lord Cavensham. Both men stared at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted horns atop his head. “Larkton practically begged me to come here. He wants me to spy on her.”
“Are you?” Paul took a sip of his coffee.
“Yes and no. I told Larkton I wouldn’t do it without telling her, and I told her what Larkton wanted to know. It’s safer to tell the truth, I think.”
“Are you still calling her Lady Warlock?” Will asked.
Paul shook his head in dismay, then raised an eyebrow in Devan’s direction. “I thought you used your talents as a clergyman to help and comfort people, not insult them. What happened to you and your supposed talent with the ladies? Bad form to insult Lady Warwyk with name-calling.”
“‘Warlock’ is a term of affection,” Devan protested.
William looked around the well-appointed room. “She’s paying for all of this, isn’t she?”
Devan shook his head in annoyance. “Will you both stop?” He poured another cup of black coffee, then held up the pot in offering to the other two.
William waved a hand for another cup, and Paul declined.
“Devan, after what you’ve said about the young lordship wanting you to marry his mother, how are you going to keep tutoring him without it being awkward?” Paul leaned back in his chair. With his elegant clothing, light hair, and blue eyes, he looked like an archangel that had stopped by for a visit.
Devan rested his elbows on the desk, then studied his steaming cup and hoped the vapors might reveal some piece of wisdom. “I don’t know. I’ll disappoint him if I’m not a more permanent part of his life.” He looked up at his two friends. “She loves her son. He’s her whole world. She doesn’t want to marry me.”
“The soiree is in two days. My entire family is coming up here for the event. Since I married Thea, she’s made certain that Avalon, Sophia, and Thane are treated like a part of the Cavensham clan.” William took a sip of coffee. “I’m acquainted with the young marquess. He’s a good fellow. I don’t think he’ll hold a grudge against you.”
Devan tried to damp his unease, but it was like a burr. No matter how he tried to shake it off, it stuck to him. Perhaps if he discussed what happened with his friends, they could make sense of it.
He’d wanted Avalon to say yes to marriage. As he’d waited for her answer at the table, a million images flashed through his eyes as he envisioned a life with Avalon and Thane. But he was a vicar and she was a marchioness. She’d never have accepted, even if she had feelings for him. Besides, she was scared of marrying again.
“After last night, I want to marry her.”
“Really?” William’s voice deepened. “So, the wild vicar is ready to be tamed.”
“Appearances aren’t everything.” He’d kept his secret from his friends—whether it was pride or something else made little difference. A part of him only wanted to share such a truth with his wife. But his friends wouldn’t judge him for allowing the rumors of his experiences with women to manifest in a persona that he willingly hid behind to keep Larkton from hounding him to marry. “I’m not that experienced with women.”
“We assumed as much.” Paul closed the distance between them and stood before Devan, halting his pacing.
“How?” Devan asked, clearly shocked.
“For someone who has always talked of marrying an heiress, you are awfully picky.” Paul’s mouth tilted in a half smile. “Too picky, in my opinion. Which leads me to believe you were perhaps uncomfortable. Maybe shy?”
“Shy?” Devan took a small step back. “No, it’s nothing like that. As I became an adult, I appreciated the marriage my parents had. I wanted the same.”
“You should be picky,” William offered in support. “My parents taught me and my siblings the same thing. The right woman can turn a life into an amazing, beautiful adventure.”
The duke then grabbed him by the shoulder. “You can convince Avalon you’re the right man. Use that silver tongue of yours and bring her around.”
Devan exhaled, then turned his attention to the fire. “No. I’m far beneath her station.”
“Nonsense,” William said as he joined them, then knelt to attend the dying embers. His gaze shot upward to Devan. “But I will say this, she’s one of a kind.”
“Did you know that her parents forced her to marry Warwyk?” Devan asked.
William shook his head. “No, but I’d heard rumors to that effect.” He stood and brushed his hands together. “I’m a perfect example of a man who married above his station. I married a countess before I was made a baron.”
“He’s right. You shouldn’t be concerned about marrying above your station. Besides, you’re an earl’s son.” Paul nodded in agreement, before one eyebrow arched perfectly. “You always did want to marry an heiress. For some odd reason, I think you and Lady Warwyk would be perfect for each other.”
“It would require a miracle for that to happen,” he murmured.
Paul’s eyebrow shot up. “Isn’t that your specific calling, Vicar?”
“I’m not certain God involves himself in matters of the heart,” Devan answered.
“Don’t be a fool,” William gingerly chided. “We all need a little help at times. Particularly in matters of love.”
“I’m not in love with her.” The objection left a metallic taste in his mouth.
“Still honest as the day is long, aren’t you, Vicar?” the duke asked as he deliberately tapped one finger against his chin. “Brings to mind the old saying, ‘Be careful or all your chickens will come home to roost.’”
Indeed.
Every thought, action, or innuendo that supported the lie that he was a man of the world with the ladies would soon make a fool out of him.
“Perhaps a ride would clear some of the cobwebs that seem to be cluttering your thoughts.” William wrapped an arm around Devan’s shoulders.
“Excellent idea,” Paul answered.
Within minutes, they were astride their horses and strolling through the village. Devan veered his black stallion over to an empty field where Avalon stood with a gentleman who clutched several drawings in his hands. He pointed to a location across the way, then back to the drawing.
Immediately, Paul and William followed Devan toward Avalon.
“Look there, Vicar,” Paul murmured. “Divine intervention at work. Here is your chance to do a little wooing.”
Without answering, Devan approached Avalon and the gentleman. Just seeing her again caused his heart to gallop in his chest. All signs of fatigue disappeared like the faint wisp of a cloud in a summer sky. When he dismounted, he quickly tied Devil to a branch. As soon as Avalon saw him, she smiled and waved.
“Good afternoon, Lady Warwyk,” Paul called out as he and William both dismounted from their horses.
“Your Grace,” she answered. With an elegant ease, she turned to Lord Cavensham. “Good afternoon, William.” Finally, she turned to him. “Hello, Vicar.”
It might have been his imagination, but Devan could have sworn her smile became a little brighter when she greeted him.
“Avalon, it’s delightful to see you again,” William answered. He came forward and executed a bow.
“Gentlemen, may I introduce Mr. Christopher Strong. He’s helping me with the plans for the new workroom and nursery I’m building.” She turned to the architect. “Mr. Strong, this is His Grace, the Duke of Southart, Lord Cavensham, and Mr. Farris, our local vicar.”
A distinguished-looking man in his late forties nodded and sketched an abbreviated bow to the men. “The pleasure is mine.”
Soon they were all discussing her plans for building a two-story building. The workroom would be on the main floor with the nursery above. As Mr. Strong was showing Paul and William the modern plumbing planned for the building, Devan leaned closer to Avalon. “Hello, Vicar? Are we back to formal terms?” He spoke in a low tone, ensuring they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Would you prefer something else, then?” she teased.
“I’d prefer to hear my name on your lips,” he answered.
“Mr. Farris, then,” she quipped with a grin. “Come, I want to show you something.” Without waiting for him, she briskly walked to a part of the field that had been marked with painted sticks. As soon as he drew to her side, she continued, “This will be the view from the playroom I’ve had Mr. Strong design for the children and their nurse-maids. While their mothers are working below, the children will have an excellent view of the river from the second floor.” She pointed across the field. The glow of excitement in her eyes was breathtaking. “They can see the valley from this direction.”
Devan gazed in the direction she pointed. Indeed, the bucolic beauty of the Warwyk lands couldn’t be hidden even in the dead of winter. “It’s beautiful, Avalon. They’ll be enchanted. I’d wager their mothers will have a hard time getting them to leave at the end of the day.”
She bit her lip in an adorable way as she considered his words. “I hope they’re all happy here.”
“I have little doubt,” he said.
She nodded slightly. “The rest of the floor will be split into small apartments for women who are newly arrived and need housing.”
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew his hair into his eyes. Before he could brush it back, she did the honor for him. The touch, intimate as a kiss, stole his breath. He caught her hand before she lowered it and brought it to his lips. “Avalon, what you’re doing here is remarkable.”
Her gaze locked with his, and her lips parted slightly. She released a deep breath, not breaking eye contact. “Thank you. I wish I could do more.”
“How so?” He studied her face once again. The determination and pure joy that shone from her eyes made him want to sweep her into his arms and kiss her again just like last night.
“I’d like to help the girls who have nowhere to go before they find themselves on the London streets,” she said wistfully.
“Perhaps you could start an apprenticeship for young girls. I could ask the parishes around here if any girls are alone or appear vulnerable. We could offer employment before they travel to London. From what I’ve seen of Miss Sinclair’s and Miss Flora’s talent, they’ll soon be inundated with dress orders. They could use several assistants, I wager, and perhaps even more.” Determined to help, he continued, “Mrs. Dozier could teach some of them how to make lace. Perhaps some of the girls would help the matrons with the care of the children.”
“Devan, that’s brilliant,” Avalon said softly. “I love the idea.”
“I love hearing my name on your lips.” He stepped closer, and she answered in kind. He could hear Paul call his name, but Devan didn’t dare break this moment between them.
A half grin tugged at her lips. “You mean ‘Mr. Farris’?”
“Come, Lady Warlock, enough of your witchery.” He held out his arm for her to take. “Let me escort you back to Mr. Strong.”
She slipped her arm through his. Touching her was the antidote to his fatigue.
But he wanted more.
He wanted another night in the wine cellar with Avalon.