Out of the mouths of babes comes wisdom with a healthy jolt of stupefying clarity.
Devan Farris
Last evening, the Duke of Southart and Lord Cavensham had dined with Devan at home before returning to London. This morning, after Devan had visited Annie Dozier and her family, he walked the familiar road to the vicarage. Only a few whistles of wind through the bare branches accompanied him as he strolled through the country lane. He had little interest in the weather as all of his thoughts were consumed by a certain woman with chocolate-brown hair, mesmerizing green eyes, and a complicated disposition to match.
Tomorrow night at Avalon’s benefit soiree, he’d be in company with her again. He planned to dance with her as many times as she’d allow. As a widow, she could do whatever she wanted, but she always kept herself a tad aloof from the others. But he hoped for her first and last dance. His plan would require that he arrive early and talk to the small orchestra Avalon had hired for the event. A carefully spoken request would ensure that those dances would be waltzes.
Never one to worry about his upcoming sermons, Devan had plenty of time to prepare for the upcoming Sunday’s church service. He’d chosen to discuss tolerance and affection. There was a wealth of material for divine inspiration in the community, including the perfect accord he and Avalon had reached. It’d be lovely to discuss how animosity could grow into tolerance and eventually—he hoped—deep affection.
How could one woman consume his thoughts so completely? He shook his head gently as he tugged his gloves a little tighter. Such was the power of Avalon.
“Mr. Farris?” a female voice called from behind.
He slowed his gait to a stop and turned around. The voice belonged to Lady Sophia Cavensham. Miss Penelope Rowley had her arm linked with Sophia’s as they approached.
“May we walk with you?” Penelope asked.
Sophia’s interest was consumed by the large elm tree to the right of them. However, Penelope looked at him boldly, as if daring him to deny them.
“Of course.” Devan bowed slightly. “I’d enjoy the company. Are you going into the village for a little shopping or are you visiting a friend?”
Sophia’s interests shifted to her feet. The young woman still had refused to look him in the eye. It was unusual behavior for Avalon’s sister. Normally, she wasn’t bashful around anyone, particularly him.
Devan studied her a little while longer, then turned to Penelope, who, with a practiced smile, devoted all of her attention to him.
“Lady Sophia and I were just returning from visiting Miss Sinclair and Miss Leona.” Penelope lifted an empty basket in her free hand. “My aunt and I baked bread and included fresh butter and a jar of jam.” She released her hold of Sophia and came to stand nearer. “They’ve been so busy with tomorrow’s soiree, we thought they might need some help.” She batted her eyelashes. “I’d like to bake some for you.”
Avalon’s words to take care around this young woman rushed into his thoughts. “A lovely offer, Miss Rowley, but I would hate to offend Mrs. McVey. My housekeeper loves to dote upon me.” He chuckled. “Perhaps you could bake some for Mrs. Dozier. Mrs. Jennings and Miss Jennings are still staying at her house. I’m sure they would appreciate the kind gesture, and they need it more than I do.”
“Would that please you?” Penelope asked.
The dulcet but sickening tone sent chills racing down his back. Without any hesitation, he took a step back from Penelope. “I’m of no concern, but I’m certain the Almighty would look favorably upon such a kind act. Perhaps, Lady Sophia could—”
“Oh goodness. I forgot my reticule at Miss Sinclair’s and Miss Leona’s home.” Sophia turned around, then ran as if her house were in flames.
Without a glance back at her friend, Penelope came to his side. “Would you see me home?”
“Perhaps we should wait for Lady Sophia?” Devan said.
Penelope shook her head. “She told me earlier that she wanted to look at Miss Sinclair’s and Miss Leona’s gowns again.”
Devan released a silent sigh. He was no actor, but he’d seen enough drama in his life to know that he was about to see quite a performance from Miss Rowley. He nodded once, then clasped his hands behind his back, refusing to offer his arm. “Shall we?”
She nodded and fell into step beside him.
“Are your aunt and uncle home?” he asked.
“Yes, they are. Why? Do you wish to see them?” The hopefulness in her voice was unmistakable.
“I thought perhaps to ask them to help sponsor the church altar centerpieces for the upcoming month.”
“Ooaf.” She grabbed his arm in an apparent attempt to keep from falling.
As a gentleman, he had no recourse but to help her stay upright.
With little warning, she leaned heavily into him, causing them both to be caught off balance. Suddenly, the world tilted, and they both fell to the hard ground. Devan twisted to take the brunt of the fall.
Penelope landed directly on top of him. With their legs tangled in a seemingly hopeless knot, she pressed her chest firmly against his. “I think I twisted my ankle on a rock.”
Her gaze captured his and the intensity in her eyes sent warning bells clanging. Without preamble, Penelope pressed her lips against his. “Oh, Devan,” she murmured.
Immediately, he took her arms and carefully pushed her away. He sprang upright like a jack released from its box. “Let me help you up.”
What else could he say? Unhand me, you wench. Perhaps a better retort was called for. Have you lost your bloody mind? Surely heaven would excuse the use of profanity in this instance.
When he held out his hand, she placed hers in his and squeezed.
Ignoring the gesture, he hauled her to her feet perhaps a little abruptly as she stumbled forward again. He sidestepped her to keep from having her fall into kissing him again. “Can you walk?”
Her eyes narrowed for an instant, then a cool smile graced her face. “Devan, I’ve known for quite awhile that you wanted to kiss me. Just like I wanted to kiss you.”
“I didn’t give you permission to address me so intimately.” The words sounded guttural to his own ears, and he didn’t hide the curtness in his tone. Her face fell in response, betraying her hurt and emphasizing her youth.
He wiped a hand down his face. He’d had women throw themselves at him in the past but not literally. There was only one solution to nip this disaster in the bud. He had to address what she’d done. “Miss Rowley, you’ve misconstrued any attention I’ve given you in the past.”
Any embarrassment she possessed disappeared like a ship sailing into the fog when her lips thinned in anger. “Every time we’re together, I catch you glancing my way.”
“You’re mistaken,” he said. Warily, he regarded her. “I have no romantic feelings for you. Nor shall I ever have such feelings, I’m afraid.”
She stared at him defiantly, then quickly schooled her features. “You’re just embarrassed. Don’t be.” Her tone turned gentle. “You share the same regard for me as I have for you.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.” She took a step closer, and in tandem, he took a step backward, keeping distance between them. “You should turn your attentions to someone who would welcome them. Perhaps Mr. Grant.”
“He’s a boy. I want a man. I want you.”
Devan stared at her for a moment. Immediately, the image of the female snake-haired monster Medusa came to mind. Her young age didn’t hide the covetous gleam in her eyes. Never before had such foreboding pummeled him with a need to take care around a woman.
“Miss Rowley, I have no doubt you have much to offer another.” Her cheeks warmed at his praise. “However, don’t waste them on me. I don’t share your affection. Besides, I’m much too old for you.”
“I like older men,” she said.
“And I like older women,” he countered. “You’re too young for me.”
“What does age have to do with attraction? If two people find an undeniable attraction”—she tilted her head and examined him much like a succulent pastry—“I’d say an undeniable bond is a better description. How can we resist?”
“Miss Rowley, please.” His patience had worn thin. “Whatever you think it is you feel for me, it’s misguided. I can only offer friendship. You’re going to have to accept that fact.” He bent and retrieved his beaver top hat. Unfortunately, it had been a casualty of his fall. The brim had a nasty bend on one side. Without his usual fanfare, he placed it on his head with a firm tug.
Her eyes widened, and her mouth gaped like a fish out of water desperate for air. She stuck her nose in the air, then with a huff for good measure, she turned and strutted in the opposite direction. No doubt she had a rendezvous with Lady Sophia to discuss the failure of her conquest.
Amazingly, her gait was smooth without a hint of a limp as she sauntered away.
Without a look back, Devan proceeded to the vicarage, where a warm brandy would be a welcome balm for this troublesome interlude with the young woman.
Penelope Rowley threatened his peace of mind, and he didn’t want any interference from her and her wild imagination as he concentrated on his friendship with Avalon.
Friendship was such an innocuous word when it came to describe his feelings with a certain marchioness. While Avalon may think they were friends, it didn’t define his feelings.
Ever since they’d spent the night with one another, he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts.
Amazingly, three weeks ago she’d circled around him like a gladiator preparing for an epic battle against a lion until one of them fell in defeat. How things had changed.
Perhaps the best course for both of them would be to listen to the organs in the middle of their chests. It could teach warriors a thing or two—specifically, how to be valiant when the call to arms turns into an engagement of the heart.
“Mother, I don’t want to do this.” Thane’s gaze slid away from Avalon to his boots.
They’d been standing outside the vicarage door for the last five minutes as her son had grappled with finding the courage to knock.
“Confessing our wrongs makes us stronger,” she said. She bent slightly so she could gaze directly into her son’s eyes. The way Thane was growing, it wouldn’t be too much longer before he’d be the one who would have to bend to look her in the eyes. “It’s best to get it over with and try to put it behind us. I meant … best to put it behind you.”
In bed, she’d twisted and turned all last night as she weighed what was the appropriate action to take with Thane. After wrestling with it, she’d finally decided this morning that they’d both go together to see Devan.
“He’ll think I’m weak.”
“No, he won’t. He’ll think you’re a young man who accepts responsibility for his actions.”
Thane slightly shook his head in disbelief.
“Mr. Farris will appreciate it, and he’ll respect you more.” She spoke the truth. After spending the night with Devan and telling him all her secrets and Devan sharing his secrets with her, she knew more about the man and his integrity.
They’d also come to accept a truce between them. The bond that they’d shared that night had been something tangible, and she didn’t want Devan to worry that he’d done something to alienate her son.
Thane took a deep breath as he raised his hand to the door and knocked twice. He returned his gaze to hers, and Avalon nodded in approval. “You’ll survive this, I promise.”
“I hope so,” he muttered to himself.
Instead of Mrs. McVey answering their knock, it was Devan, who, with one hand, was buttoning his waistcoat.
“Come in, please.” He stood aside and quickly motioned for them to enter. With his height, the entry of the vicarage seemed to shrink. He quickly put on his morning coat, and the garment seemed to melt onto his body—much as she had that night two days ago. “Pardon my appearance. I was writing to my brothers.” Immediately, he frowned slightly. “Is anything amiss? Mrs. Dozier?”
Avalon shook her head. “We’ve just come from there. Annie is fine, the baby is growing by leaps and bounds, and Byrnn is back to his old jolly self.” She turned to Thane, who looked everywhere and anywhere except at Devan.
“Thane,” she coaxed, keeping her voice low.
He nodded once, then forced his gaze to the vicar. “Mr. Farris, I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time.”
“Of course. Let’s adjourn to my study.” He held out a hand for them to precede him.
Just then, Mrs. McVey entered the vestibule. Drying her hands with a linen toweling, she appeared to have come from the kitchen. “Pardon me, Vicar. I didn’t hear the door. I just baked some fresh tarts. Let me prepare the tea service.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McVey.” His mouth curved upward. “Your extraordinary tarts would be perfect.”
At his words and kind smile, the housekeeper flushed liked a young girl who’d just received a compliment from the handsomest boy in the village.
Remarkable that he had that effect on everyone. Such a revelation caused Avalon’s heart to kick into a jig. He had a God-given talent to make any person—man or woman—feel as if they were special. He showed such kindness to everyone. It would be wise on her part to remember such wisdom and not let their frivolous flirtation and previous intimacy make her feel singled out for special attention.
Avalon touched Thane’s shoulder as a sign for the boy to proceed to the study as Devan talked to Mrs. McVey. The boy visibly swallowed but led the way. Avalon’s heart tugged at such a gesture. He was scared, but there was nothing she could say or do to stop what had to happen. It was the only way he would learn his lesson.
As soon as they had settled into the two chairs that faced Devan’s desk, he entered the room and sat down. The fire crackled in greeting as if glad to see him—just as she was.
“Mr. Farris, my mother and I are here today…” Thane looked to her, and she nodded in encouragement. “I owe you an apology.”
Devan leaned back in his chair. It was the one that the previous vicar, Mr. Knightley, had used. With the old vicar, the worn leather chair had seemed too large for his frail body, but with Devan, the exact opposite was true. Devan appeared too large for it. The breadth of his upper body completely hid the back and the arms.
“How so?” Devan asked while keeping his gaze firmly locked on Thane.
“Well, you see, Mr. Farris…” Thane pulled his neck cloth away from his neck as if the offending piece of linen was choking him. “Mr. Farris,” he repeated.
Devan leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “Just say it, my lord. I find that getting it out is relief in and of itself.”
The boy’s eyes widened, then he nodded. “Well, you see…” He studied the floor for a moment, before turning his attention back to Devan. “It was me who locked you in the cellar with my mother the other night.”
“You?” Devan asked quietly. “I don’t understand.”
Thane’s cheeks heated in embarrassment, and so did Avalon’s in empathy. “Thane and I had a conversation last night, and we wanted to come visit this morning.” She dipped her head toward her son. “Go ahead,” she encouraged.
He nodded, then exhaled loudly. “I wanted you to marry my mother so you’d come live with us. You spend time with me, and frankly, I look forward to it every time you visit. I wanted more so I locked you in together overnight so you were both ruined, and you’d have to marry.”
Devan didn’t say anything, but the kindness on his face never wavered.
“I could hardly sleep as I waited for morning to come. I was the first one up in the household, and I woke Henri asking where Mother was. When she became worried, I went to Mr. Neville as I knew he’d calm Henri down.” Thane’s voice grew quiet. “I led them down into the cellar to witness that you both were together. I’m sorry for trying to orchestrate such a situation and making assumptions about what would make you both happy.”
Devan rose, then stood beside Thane. He knelt on his haunches and rested his hand on the arm of Thane’s chair. “I accept your apology, Lord Warwyk. But as long as I am the vicar in Thistledown, you never have to worry. I’ll always be your friend, and I promise to visit Warwyk Hall as long as I’m welcome.”
Thane sniffed back a tear and wouldn’t look at either of them.
“I appreciate your honesty.” Devan lowered his voice. “But there’s no harm done.”
Finally, Thane turned slowly to face Devan. “I don’t want you to be my friend.”
“Thane,” Avalon admonished. “That’s cruel.”
Her son shook his head. “I don’t want him as a friend. I want him as my father.”
As her son’s words hung in the air, she saw the incredulous look on Devan’s face and heat blazed across her cheeks. Her back instantly became ramrod straight. It was the only way she could prepare herself for the discussion that would follow.
A puff of wind would have knocked Devan over after young Lord Warwyk had proclaimed that he planned the entire night in the wine cellar so Devan would marry Avalon. The longcase clock in the room ticked like a hammer on a stubborn nail ad nauseam as he’d tried to think of an appropriate response.
Avalon’s cheeks flushed scarlet and her eyes widened at her son’s declaration.
Devan bit the inside of his cheek when the boy’s shoulders and head dropped at the confession. “Thane,” he soothed. “Your mother and I…”
Both Thane and Avalon turned their gaze to him. It could have been his imagination, but each had a hopeful glint in their eyes. He had little doubt that Avalon wanted him to disavow the boy’s wishes. But for the life of him, he couldn’t form the words.
“Thane,” Avalon murmured. “Just because you wish it doesn’t mean we’ll marry.”
“I know.” The young lord sniffed. “But you’ve been happy since the vicar moved to town, and the same for me. I thought we could always be that way if you married him. He’s the only man who truly takes any interest in us. I’m surrounded by women. It’s nice to have someone to ride with and learn things from besides you, Mother.” He bowed his head. “I love you, but I want Mr. Farris, too. Is that so wrong? Do I have to apologize for that also?”
“Here we are.” Mrs. McVey entered the room with the tea tray, then carefully set it down. “Oh, dear. I forgot the tarts.”
Disbelief had robbed Devan of speech. Thankfully, Avalon answered for him. “How wonderful. Thane, will you follow Mrs. McVey and bring back the tarts?”
The boy nodded, then stood and followed the housekeeper out of the room. When the sound of their footsteps quieted into nothing, Avalon collapsed against the back of her chair.
“I’m mortified at his confession. He told me he thought I should marry so I’d have someone.” Her eyes glistened with emotion. “I apologize, too. I had no idea that he wanted a father.” Her gaze darted to her tightly clasped hands. “Nor did I think he’d ever do such a thing. You must think I’m a horrible mother.” She shook her head slightly. “If it’s any consolation, based upon what Thane shared, I believe I’m a horrible mother, too.”
“Avalon.” He deepened his voice, wanting to comfort her. “What Thane did has no bearing on who you are or what type of a mother you are. He shared with me one day that you say kind words about his father. I know how difficult that must have been for you.”
“He’ll find out soon enough about his father from others,” she murmured. “He doesn’t need to hear it from me.”
“That’s a lovely gift you’ve given him, and it says volumes that you had him come to me today to apologize. It shows that you’re teaching him what’s morally right.”
“He wants a father.” The shock was visible on her face. “It’s just incredible.” She stood slowly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have harbored the women I brought up from London. Maybe my charity work is taking too much time when I should have devoted more to my son. Mayhap I should consider giving your brother more authority over Thane’s upbringing. I’m floundering here and didn’t even know it.”
Never had he seen her so defeated. His Warlock had always had steel in her backbone, but her son had just brought her to her knees.
In two strides, he reached her side and took her hands in his. “You are a wonderful mother.” He squeezed her hands in reassurance. “You’ve provided Thane with a loving home and family who cares deeply for him and his upbringing. You’ve performed the roles of mother and father with aplomb and gravitas. Never question your ability to raise that boy,” he added softly.
She lifted her head and searched his gaze as if wanting to believe it, but something held her back. “How could I have presumed that I knew how to raise and protect him when I had such poor examples for parents?” A renegade tear dropped with the speed of a shooting star in a night sky. She turned her head and wrenched her hands from his to wipe the offending wetness off her cheek. “I must go.”
“Don’t, please. I’d like your company.” The vicarage possessed an undeniable energy in it when she graced its doorway.
Good Lord, he’d always had a fondness for her, but now the only thing he knew was that he wanted more. She was like a life-affirming miracle water, and he wanted to swim in it—with her beside him.
For a moment, she seemed to consider staying longer, then shook her head. “I have to prepare for the soiree, and Sophia and I have calls to make this afternoon. I’ll collect Thane. We won’t interrupt your day any more than we already have.”
She turned to leave, and he stopped her with a single word. “Avalon.”
With her head down, it became apparent that she’d lost her fighting spirit.
“You may run from me, but you can’t hide.” His voice deepened in a husky whisper. “I see the real you, and I won’t let you forget who you are either. I bid you adieu, my Lady Warlock.”
His farewell had the intended effect. That one affectionate word, and a smile tugged at her lips.
She was back.
His Lady Warlock.