Perils of the past have a way of designing the future.
Lady Warlock
A dull gray morning greeted Avalon, but she smiled in return. With a full body stretch, she slightly grimaced as muscles she hadn’t even known existed protested. Her husband, Mr. Devan Farris, had made love to her, Lady Avalon Farris. For once in her life, she felt desired and more.
She felt satisfied.
She looked around the room, hoping he was still there, but as soon as she awoke she felt an emptiness in the room, as if some vibrant star were missing from the night sky.
He’d taken her twice more last night and afterward, each time, he’d washed, then fed her or brought her something to drink. He’d taken care of her like she was a precious gift. While he’d bathed her, he’d kissed her knees, her hips, her hands, anywhere and everywhere. Frankly, she thought herself a princess in a fairy tale. For someone who never believed she’d find a husband who would treat her with respect and admiration, she had been proven wrong by fate.
“Good morning, my lady,” Henri called out as she knocked on the door. “Mrs. McVey is cooking you breakfast, and I’m here to help you dress.”
“Come in,” Avalon called out. “Where’s Mr. Farris?”
“He had to make a call to the Satterlys’ home.” Henri shook her head and clucked in worry. “The elderly Mr. Satterly had a troubled night. His son asked for the vicar to see his father this morning. It seems Mr. Satterly wants Mr. Farris to read some scripture to him this morning in case he didn’t make it through the night.” Henri clucked her disbelief. “The devil himself will have to come from hell to retrieve that old goat. He’ll outlive us all. Just you wait and see.”
“Henri,” Avalon scolded.
“The truth will set you free, my lady.” Henri bustled in with the efficiency of a general preparing the troops for battle. Avalon smiled at her loyal maid’s demeanor. Without any question, Henri was dying to know what had happened last night, but Avalon refused to start the conversation.
Her maid prepared a bath in the small slipper tub. While Avalon soaked in the hot water, Henri laid out her clothes. Avalon dried herself, then Henri held up a chemise for her mistress to pull over her head. When she handed the garment to Avalon, Henri’s eyes grew huge, and she bit her lip in mirth.
“What?” she asked.
Henri pointed to her shoulder, then held up a hand mirror for Avalon’s inspection. Several small red marks appeared in the reflection where Devan had nipped her in the throes of passion. “Does Mr. Farris have the same, my lady?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she playfully retorted.
Henri shook her head and smiled. “Someone is full of vinegar and spice this morning. All I suggested was that you take him for your lover, but you ended up marrying him.” She helped slip the chemise over Avalon’s head. “You look different. Blissful. Do you feel happy?”
“It’s the first time I’ve ever felt … contented. Fulfilled.”
Henri laughed as she picked up Avalon’s stays from the bed. “A well-loved woman is a beautiful sight, my lady. You are ravishing this morning.”
Avalon’s cheeks heated at Henri’s observation, and she didn’t want to gush about the happenings in their marital bed, but she was happy. She did feel pretty. For the first time in years, she felt a lightheartedness from within and couldn’t wait to see her husband again.
Henri wasted no time tying the stays, then helping Avalon with her morning gown. Her matching pelisse lay draped over Devan’s bed.
It was their bed. They were married now, and that’s what couples did. They comforted and cared for one another. She let out a contented sigh. Who knew marriage could be so rewarding?
At least the bed-sport.
But that wasn’t all. It was the way Devan’s eyes smoldered as he possessed her. It was as if he could see the loneliness inside and joined his body with hers to fill her emptiness so she’d never suffer such solitude again.
“What are you going to call yourself now that you’re married? Mrs. Farris or Lady Avalon Farris?”
“We haven’t discussed it.” She stopped as soon as she realized what she’d said.
We.
It was a new word in her vocabulary, one she hoped to use every day.
Henri straightened the bed. “The state bedroom is ready for you and your husband. The young master is beside himself waiting for you to return. I don’t think I’ve seen Lord Warwyk this excited since you told him he could have a puppy.”
“And Sophia?” she asked.
A crease appeared between Henri’s eyes. “She’s pleased but worried. She said she had misgivings how Penelope Rowley would take the news.” Her lady’s maid leaned closer. “That Rowley girl had set her sights on the vicar, and now she’s destroyed her good name by trying to ruin him.”
“She’s young and her actions are unfortunate for all. Especially her,” Avalon answered. “After breakfast, let’s make a call to the Rowley home and allow Penelope the chance to make things right before the entire village is forced to choose sides.”
“Pfft.” Henri didn’t bother to hide her disdain. “What was she thinking?”
“I don’t believe she was.” Avalon smiled slightly, not looking forward to the discussion. “That’s the problem.”
Mrs. McVey was kind enough to have eggs, bacon, and kippers, along with toast and jam prepared for her. After last night, Avalon found herself famished and ate a full breakfast. She finished her cup of tea, then collected Henri for the walk to the Rowley manor house.
Soon they both stood in the entry. It was an elegant home surrounded by granite columns that reminded Avalon of the Parthenon.
“Welcome, my lady,” Mrs. Rowley exclaimed as she made her way carefully down the steps to greet Avalon.
Penelope followed a safe distance behind, glowering.
“Good morning, Mrs. Rowley.” Avalon kept her gaze devoted to Penelope.
“Come, let’s take tea in the conservatory this morning.” Mrs. Rowley dipped a small curtsy. “It’s the warmest room in the house this time of day.” She leaned close to Avalon. “You heard about our poor Penelope, I presume?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued, “We’re keeping it quiet so the vicar can make amends. We don’t want Penelope embarrassed any more than she already is over Mr. Farris’s actions. She’s absolutely ruined. We must discuss what we’re going to do with the new vicar. I always thought there was something wrong with him.”
Avalon’s back bristled at the words against her husband, but she bit her tongue. No good would come from speaking too soon that she’d married Devan.
“I won’t stay long. But may I have a word with Penelope alone?”
Penelope stuck her chin in the air as if superior to Avalon, then turned on her heel to walk to the conservatory.
Henri raised an eyebrow as she watched the young miss flounce down the hall while her aunt twittered behind her.
“Wonder where she received her deportment lessons? The barnyard?” Henri said under her breath.
Avalon chuckled, but didn’t answer as she followed the two women.
Mrs. Rowley waited outside the room for Avalon and stopped her with a touch of her hand on Avalon’s forearm. “Begging your pardon, my lady. But my husband and I have tried to get Penelope to talk about what happened. It’s just too horrible for her to discuss. She’s been distraught since the night of your soiree when she told us.”
It wasn’t surprising that Penelope wouldn’t discuss it, because it never happened.
Mrs. Rowley looked at Penelope, who sat with her back facing them in a small settee. “I hate that she won’t confide in me. If you find out anything will you share it with me?”
The worried look on Penelope’s aunt’s face told Avalon that the woman truly cared for her niece and suffered because of Penelope’s lies. “Of course, Mrs. Rowley.”
The woman nodded once, then took her leave. Henri sat at the back of the room, more as a witness than a lady’s maid who was attending her employer on a social call.
“Good morning, Penelope,” Avalon said. “May I sit?”
“Of course, Lady Warwyk,” she answered sweetly, but the daggers in her eyes betrayed her true regard.
Avalon settled in a chair next to the settee, then looked out the windows at the gray and dreary courtyard that had captured Penelope’s attention. She turned her attention back to the young girl. “Since it’s only the two of us, I wonder if you’d like to share what happened between you and Mr. Farris?”
“Why are you interested?” Penelope hissed.
“Because I’d hate to see anyone’s reputation ruined,” she offered, keeping her voice low. She leaned a little closer. “Do you want to tell me … the truth?”
“I know you want him,” she snapped, then brushed her hands down the front of her dress as if trying to calm her ire. “Lady Warwyk, what’s done is done. Mr. Farris has made it known that he loves me. When he seduced me, he forced my hand.”
“Indeed, it would be horrible to be compromised against your will.” Avalon studied the courtyard for a second before turning her attention back to Penelope. “Did you tell anyone else?”
“No. It’s too intimate to share.” Pleased with herself, Penelope grinned slightly. “If you only knew how persuasive he is when he kisses you. Two days after he compromised me, he was so overcome with passion that he knocked me to the ground when we were walking home from the village for a kiss. The man is completely smitten.”
Everything within Avalon stilled. “He kissed you?”
“Goodness, yes.” Penelope didn’t flinch at the question. Though a sweet smile graced her lips, Penelope’s eyes sharpened in their assessment of Avalon.
By now, Henri had silently moved to where she stood behind Penelope without the girl becoming aware.
Avalon needed her to admit it again, so Henri could witness the lie. “Three days before the soiree he seduced you? You’re certain?”
“Of course I’m certain. A woman doesn’t forget when her virtue has been stolen from her. If you don’t believe me, ask Sophia,” Penelope challenged.
“You just told me that you didn’t share this with anyone. Now you’re saying Sophia knew about it.”
“You’re just trying to trap me. But you’ll not succeed.” Penelope lowered her tone. “You’ve wanted Devan as soon as I said I would have him for my husband. But it’s too late. He flirts with me every time he sees me, even during church service. He’s made it perfectly clear that I’m the one he wants, not you.” Her eyes traveled up and down Avalon’s body, judging her. “Sophia told me all about your marriage to the marquess. Much like a piece of fossilized wood, you’re practically petrified with your airs and all the years you’ve lived alone. You’d be a cold fish in bed, I’m sure.”
“That’s enough,” Avalon warned as she tightened her stomach. The girl’s biting words had their intended effect—they’d weakened Avalon’s newfound confidence. But as she’d always done when insulted and made to feel worthless, she lifted her chin an inch and straightened her back. “Tell me the truth about the night you said Mr. Farris compromised you.”
“Or what?” Penelope dared to lean forward. “How could you possibly know anything? You weren’t there.”
“No, I wasn’t there with you, but I know the truth about that night and so do you,” Avalon said. She drew a deep breath, hoping for patience. Her calm demeanor was ready to snap in two. “I’m confused why you’re saying these things. This isn’t like you. Do you want me to tell your aunt and uncle?”
Penelope gasped, the slight sound abruptly caught in her throat. “My uncle went to see the bishop and the Earl of Larkton. I expect Devan to propose to me any day now.”
“I think it’s best if I speak with your aunt and uncle. They’re worried about you.” Avalon stood, and the swoosh of her satin gown snapped, breaking the eerie silence between them.
The girl’s eyes widened as she stared at her. Then her lips trembled as her haughty demeanor slowly melted. “Lady Warwyk.” Penelope lowered her voice so only she and Avalon could hear. “Please, do not be cross with me.”
Penelope’s tormented face reminded Avalon how young she was.
“You’ve always shown me kindness. Please accept my apology for my behavior.” Penelope visibly swallowed. “I don’t want to lose your friendship.”
“Of course, we’ll still be friends, but you must see how this is hurting Mr. Farris,” Avalon answered and slowly sat back down.
“My lady…” A single tear fell down the girl’s pale cheek. “I must marry him.”
“Penelope, Mr. Farris and I married yesterday.” Avalon waited for the girl’s disdain to return.
“What?” She brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh God, all is lost.” A tear streamed down each cheek, and she clasped her hands around her waist and rocked back and forth. “All is lost,” she repeated.
“Sweetheart, what is it?” Avalon scooted closer. She’d never seen such utter despair in Penelope.
“You don’t understand,” she cried.
“What don’t I understand? Tell me.” Avalon glanced in Henri’s direction. The maid had walked to the girl’s side.
“Miss Penelope, you can share with Lady Farris. She and I will help you,” Henri offered.
“It’s too late.” Penelope choked back a sob. “You see I’m betrothed to a vile creature of a man. It’s been arranged since I was a little girl. He grew up next to me in London.”
“Who is it?” Avalon’s voice turned softer.
“Harrison, Lord Renford. He made a fortune in trade.” By then, Henri had given Penelope a handkerchief, and she dried her eyes. “He’s a monster.” Penelope squeezed the piece of linen tightly in her fist. “As a child he was cruel to his pets and dismissive of the servants. When I was thirteen I looked out my bedroom window…”
“Go on,” Avalon urged.
Penelope exhaled, the painful sound poignant. “My window overlooked his courtyard. One day, he was beating a maid with the whip he used for his horses. I could hear the leather singing through the air before each strike.” She shivered in her seat. “He beat her so badly that blood soaked the back of her uniform. She … fell into a heap. He spit on her, then walked away.”
“That’s horrible.” Avalon’s stomach churned at Penelope’s words. “Did you tell your mother?”
The young girl nodded. “She said it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t treat me that way.” She caught Avalon’s gaze. “I couldn’t get it out of my thoughts so I had my maid ask one of the servants next door what had occurred to cause such wrath.” Penelope’s hands were clasped so tight her knuckles were white.
“What happened?” Henri asked.
Penelope shook her head. “No one knows. There were rumors he beat her so hard she died, then had her body carried out in a cart that night. But I don’t know.”
“Did you ever find out why he was so furious?” Henri murmured.
The girl’s gaze darted to hers. “He discovered she was carrying and unmarried. He called her a heathen whore.”
“Oh God.” Avalon released the breath she’d been holding. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course, no one could concern themselves with a maid who disappeared.”
“After my parents and I moved abroad, they allowed me to come back to England. I thought I could find someone else to marry.” Penelope slowly bowed her head. “I moved here and made friends. Then Mr. Farris arrived, and he was so nice to me.”
“Are your aunt and uncle aware of your fears?” Avalon asked.
“They’re trying to help me, my lady. That’s why my uncle was vehement about forcing Mr. Farris into marriage. My uncle was relieved that I wouldn’t have to marry Lord Renford.” The girl shook her head. “Renford wants to call the banns, and my parents are adamant that I marry before spring.”
Avalon’s heart constricted at Penelope’s last words. It was exactly what had happened with her and Richard. Her parents’ wishes had to be obeyed. Penelope faced the same trap Avalon had been caught in.
“I’m sorry, my lady.” The girl bit her lip and forced her gaze to Avalon. “I tried to get Mr. Farris to notice me. He’s kind and good. I thought he’d seek my hand, and my aunt and uncle would have allowed us to marry. But I couldn’t hold his attention.” The girl tried to smile but failed miserably. “He preferred you.”
“I’ll not let this happen. You won’t have to marry Renford.” Avalon placed her hand over Penelope’s. “I promise.”
“No one can help me.” Penelope’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You see…” The girl turned away and stared out the window. “I’m carrying.”
A haunting silence echoed around the room.
“Penelope?” Avalon’s voice cracked as she wrestled with the news. “Who’s the father?”
“I cannot say,” Penelope finally answered.
Desperate to find a way to help her, Avalon studied the girl. She seemed lost within her thoughts. “We should go to your aunt and uncle and discuss this.”
Penelope’s eyes widened. “No. Please, I beg of you. Don’t say a word. They’ll be so disappointed in me.”
Avalon let out a sigh. “I promise. But whoever the father is he has a right to know.” She slowly stood and hugged the girl. “Don’t you think he’d marry you?”
“It’s too late,” Penelope murmured.
“Why?” Henri asked.
The girl remained silent.
“You can’t keep this a secret. Everyone will suspect that the baby’s father is Mr. Farris.” Holding her hands in Penelope’s, Avalon took a step back and stared into her eyes. “Rumors will soon swirl at the accusations you’ve made against my husband. I can’t let that happen … to either of you. Your reputations will be ruined.”
Penelope’s hand flew to her mouth in fear.
“I’m going to speak with your aunt and uncle and tell them you weren’t with my husband that night, but I won’t say a word about anything else. But think about what I said. We can find a solution, I promise.” Avalon turned to Henri. “Will you see Penelope to her room?”
“Of course, my lady. As soon as I get Miss Rowley settled, I’ll find you.” Henri took the girl’s hand and led her from the conservatory.
Penelope Rowley would be destroyed if she had to marry Lord Renford, and Devan would be destroyed if they didn’t find out who was the father of Penelope’s baby. The young woman’s words echoed in the recesses of Avalon’s heart and mind. After the girl had revealed her secrets, all the old hurt and devastation reared its ugly head. Really, what protection did any married woman have when wed to a fiend?
Plus, the revelation that Devan kissed the girl left a bitter taste in Avalon’s mouth. Why wouldn’t he have told her?
Just like Richard had married her for Bumble Green, perhaps Devan had married her for money. Though it was the church’s money and not hers, she became an easy vehicle to attain his newfound fortune, which was twice the amount of Penelope’s dowry. Larkton needed funds. Devan and the earl could have thought the whole scheme up the morning before Larkton came to Warwyk Hall. Both she and the bishop wanted to save Devan. With his brother threatening to take Thane, Avalon would have done anything to keep him. Yet she’d wanted Devan, and everyone knew it.
As her doubts twisted around her heart, she willed herself to think logically. Devan cared for her. He was her husband and a part of Thistledown—her community and her responsibility. Surely, he would explain what had happened if Avalon asked. But right now, she had to think of Penelope.
Whatever Avalon had to do to protect the young woman and what remained of her innocence, she vowed to keep Penelope safe just like Mary Bolen had done for Avalon all those years ago. A footman escorted her to the sitting room on the family floor of the manor where Mr. and Mrs. Rowley waited.
“Did you find out anything?” Mrs. Rowley asked before allowing Mr. Rowley to greet Avalon.
“I did.” She turned to Mr. Rowley and nodded gracefully. “Mr. Rowley, thank you for joining us.”
He bowed slightly, then waited for Avalon to take her seat before he settled next to his wife. “So, don’t keep Mrs. Rowley in suspense. It’s all she can think and talk about,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “Frankly, I’d hoped that you were the vicar calling. He should be here to ask for her hand. That’s the only way to handle the disgraceful way he’s treated our niece. I for one will be glad to have the matter over with.”
“Herbert,” Mrs. Rowley scolded. “Lady Warwyk is aware of what’s happened.” She turned in Avalon’s direction. “What did she tell you?”
Henri entered and sat discreetly in a chair by the door. By her posture, Avalon was certain her maid was poised to hear every word. She wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world. That was one of her most endearing traits. She was completely loyal to Avalon and, in return, Avalon was completely loyal to her. However, this was Avalon’s battle. Yet, it was comforting to know that Henri stood by her side no matter what.
“I have something to tell you that will no doubt be upsetting, but you must know the truth. I’m afraid that Penelope is telling a falsehood when she says that Mr. Farris seduced her.”
“Are you calling our niece a liar?” Mr. Rowley’s face turned the color of a ripe beet as he practically roared the question.
“Herbert, please,” Mrs. Rowley begged as she twisted her handkerchief repeatedly. “Go on, my lady. I’d like to hear what you have to say. She’s said little to us, but she always says the same thing. He seduced her at the vicarage, which I can’t fathom how that could have happened. One of the servants would have seen her leave the house.”
“The girl could have always left a door or a window open and gone to him,” Mr. Rowley added with a nod of his head.
At her husband’s remark, Mrs. Rowley lifted an eyebrow. Clearly, Penelope’s aunt had reservations about her niece’s story while Mr. Rowley wanted to defend her. Well, there was nothing else to do but tell the truth.
“Penelope told me that the seduction happened three days before my soiree.”
Mr. Rowley nodded in agreement.
“There’s no way that your niece could have been compromised by our vicar,” Avalon said while keeping her gaze on Mr. Rowley. “You see, he was with me. We were locked in my wine cellar together all night. My staff and my son found us the next morning.”
“She might have her nights confused about when it happened, but our Penelope said he seduced her.” He crossed his arms across his barrel chest. “I believe her.”
“Mr. Rowley, she told me twice it was three nights before the soiree. The night Mrs. McVey always has off. I asked Penelope if she was certain. My lady’s maid was there too and heard her say yes.”
Mr. Rowley’s gaze shot to Henri, who nodded once in agreement.
“I asked her to come and tell you the truth, but she refused. She’s beside herself with fright.” Though Avalon didn’t know everything about Penelope’s story, one fact was certain. Penelope was not compromised the night she claimed. “She doesn’t want to marry Lord Renford. I’m afraid she made up the story of being with our vicar to escape the marriage.”
Silenced reigned in the room for a moment as the Rowleys’ shock had frozen both of them in place.
Finally, Mrs. Rowley bowed her head.
“Bloody hell,” Mr. Rowley muttered while dragging his hand down his face.
“We owe him an apology.” The agony on Mrs. Rowley’s face aged her by twenty years. “We owe the earl and Bishop Marlowe an apology too.”
“I think everyone would appreciate that.” Avalon nodded.
“I’ll have a carriage readied so I can make the trip to London this afternoon. No use postponing it.” Mr. Rowley’s lips drew into a thin line indicating he was clearly confounded with the news. “First, I’ll visit the vicar. If he’d still marry the girl, I’d make it worth his while.”
Mrs. Rowley’s hopeful gaze flew to his.
“I’m afraid that won’t happen,” Avalon said. Before she could tell them the reason why, a deep baritone she was intimately familiar with came from behind her.
“Because I married Lady Avalon Cavensham Warwyk yesterday,” Devan announced.
She inhaled at his words laced with defiance and something she’d never seen or heard from him before.
Fury.