As you turn the other cheek, just remember that there’s no rest for the truly wicked.
Mr. Devan Farris’s theme for the Sunday sermon to his pious flock
As the last notes of the opening processional hymn hung in the air, the Thistledown parish members openly sighed in contentment. It could only be described as a rich sound, one that should have provided Avalon peace. Her community was happy with their parish and their new vicar.
The vicar’s clear baritone rang through the sanctuary in welcome as he extended his arms wide as if enveloping them in his embrace. Devan Farris appeared larger than life in his black-and-white vestments. The bell-shaped sleeves of his cassock emphasized his long arms and hands while the pristine white collar contrasted nicely with his dark hair.
But it was the breathtaking smile on his face, which highlighted his perfect white teeth, that had female sighs and flutters joining in a chorus of undeniable pleasure at the countenance of their new vicar.
It was enough to make Avalon want to tilt her head to the heavens and ask why.
Why did the pious killjoy have to reside in her community? At any moment, she expected him to call her out by saying that God wanted to cast Lady Warlock from their midst so they could worship in peace.
Which would be perfectly acceptable to her as she thrummed her fingers atop the hymnal. She’d rather be anywhere else but here this morning. Sophia, Thane, and she had arrived late for the service, and instead of making a spectacle of themselves by parading down the aisle in the middle of the opening processional hymn to reach the pew reserved exclusively for the Warwyk family, they sat in the back of the church.
The view from there was certainly different than from the Warwyk pew, the first pew on the right side of the sanctuary. From where Avalon sat, she could see everyone in attendance. She made a mental note that from now on while Devan Farris resided in town, she’d prefer to sit here during services. It meant she could make a timely exit and leave the church before the irreverent vicar could lead the congregation through the recessional hymn.
However, it would not do to act so contrary because of his presence in her community. She needed to be here in church every Sunday. These people were hers, and she’d not shirk from the responsibility of caring for them.
As Mr. Farris spoke about his good fortune in moving to their parish, something that didn’t hold her interest in the least, Avalon’s gaze settled over the parishioners. The entire female population sported gaudy new bonnets and sparkling new ribbons in hopes of capturing the vicar’s attention. If they’d only asked Avalon, she could have spared them their wasted time, money, and effort. The new vicar was only interested in one type of female, a rare breed, indeed—an heiress.
His effect on the masses explained egalitarianism to those unfamiliar with the term. Ladies, gentleman, girls, and even the babies in attendance drooled—yes, drooled—over Devan Farris. A gaping mouth on a lady in her ninth decade makes one either lose one’s appetite or want to roar in disapproval.
In fairness to her and the well-being of the parish, Avalon should be the one in the pulpit, proselytizing about the evils of falling under the vicar’s influence.
There was no denying he was handsome this morning, and everyone, including his conceited self, was aware of that fact. It was as if all intelligence in the fairer sex decided to fly out the window in his presence, if the fluttering of eyelashes and coy smiles were any indication.
The thrumming of her fingers grew loud enough that several members turned in their seats to see who was disrupting the vicar’s speech.
Beside her, Thane’s cheeks heated. “Maman, they think it’s me making that racket.” His whisper grew louder. “Will you please stop?”
Without turning her smiling face from the vicar’s direction, Sophia discretely placed her hand over Avalon’s, which immediately made Avalon cease her thrumming.
She huffed a silent protest. Simply put, while he stood there waxing and waning about “turn the other cheek,” he was corrupting every moral female in the congregation with his potent wry smile.
But to keep peace within her family, she clasped her hands together and caught the vicar’s knowing gaze. He tilted his head and directed a blazing but wicked smile her way as if saying aha, you’ve been caught. Unable to bear it without protest, Avalon tilted her chin up a notch to show him she’d not turn the other cheek and listen to his sermon. Instead, she directed her attention to the congregation.
Miss Sally Marcy, a middle-aged woman who’d never married because she took care of her hypochondriac mother, had slid one foot out into the aisle, giving Avalon a clear view of her half-boot. The poor woman had a hole the size of an egg on the sole. With Henri’s help, a new pair would somehow mysteriously arrive on the woman’s front step. Sally would never accept charity, but if an anonymous benefactor helped, she couldn’t refuse. Avalon also added Sally and her mother to the list of villagers who received weekly baskets from Warwyk Hall.
Avalon searched the pews in both directions for Annie Dozier. It wouldn’t be likely that she’d attend today as she’d been under the weather for the last several weeks, but Avalon had prayed that Annie would surprise them all with her appearance.
Well, it gave Avalon all the more reason to exit the service early, then deliver her weekly basket. Byrnn had been teething and fussy the last time Avalon had stopped by. She was anxious to see how the poor woman had fared over the last couple of days.
A slight giggle drew Avalon’s attention. Penelope Rowley sat next to her aunt and uncle, completely fixated on the vicar. The sudden flutter of her lashes either meant she’d managed to attract a dust storm while sitting in their family pew, or she was flirting with the vicar.
Immediately, Avalon’s gaze flew to Devan Farris’s to see if he was encouraging such a silly reaction, or God help them all, if he was returning the girl’s affection.
For heaven’s sake, his attention was directed toward Avalon.
She stilled in her seat. From across the sanctuary, his green-eyed gaze pierced hers. Her heart pounded from the embarrassment of being caught allowing her concentration to wander. The truth was, it was his fault. He shouldn’t give such boring sermons. She straightened in her seat and stared right back at him. She’d not allow him to upset her. So what if she’d garnered his attention?
It made all the difference in the world. Any weakness she divulged made her vulnerable.
The man had the ability to make her life miserable, but more importantly, he wielded influence over his brother’s decision regarding Thane’s education. She swallowed the sudden thickness in her throat. How long had it been since she’d felt such unease because of a man?
Particularly one who was so handsome.
It had been ten long, lonely years.
She clenched her gloved hands into tight fists. She would not allow his visage or his perfect body in the prime of life to ruffle her world. Nor would his warm, deep voice affect her.
She glared at him in defiance. The rogue hadn’t the common courtesy to call on her to discuss Thane’s curriculum or his conclusions about her son’s readiness to attend Eton. Though it was a foregone conclusion that he’d recommend whatever his brother thought best for Thane. Blood was always thicker than water.
Finally, the organist pounded out the recessional hymn. Avalon realized she was the only one in the congregation still sitting, as the others were standing and singing their hearts out to God, the church, and undoubtedly to their new vicar.
Horrified that she’d allowed her musings to lead her so astray, she stood quickly. Before she could gather Thane and Sophia to steal away before the vicar led the procession to the vestibule, he passed her pew. He winked at Thane, who grinned in return and gave a small wave. Avalon could hear Sophia’s giggle behind her. With a look of pure impishness, he smiled and nodded her way.
The man gave a sound reason to avoid church altogether. She could feel a megrim a week from now coming on. It would be a massive one, she could already tell.
Hopefully, God would empathize when she missed next week’s sermon.
Whether the vicar would understand wasn’t her concern.
He could go to the devil.
When he reached his position in the vestibule to greet the exiting members of his congregation, Devan took a deep breath and exhaled. The parishioners had enthusiastically received his first sermon. Judging by their reactions, he could have stood at the pulpit for at least another hour and recited the vicarage’s recipe books without losing anyone’s attention to a catnap.
He frowned slightly. One of his flock hadn’t been as enamored with him as he would’ve liked. The preoccupied marchioness had fidgeted endlessly throughout the entire service. Perhaps she missed sitting in her pew and reigning over his flock as if it were hers.
A smile tugged at his lips. He loved the gall of her. She was not in the least impressed with him and let him know it with her expressions of disdain. However, when she thought he wasn’t looking, she couldn’t keep from glancing in his direction. Just a discreet smile or an innocent wink caused her to bristle like a hedgehog under attack.
He couldn’t wait until she passed by. Inevitably, she’d try to sneak through the side entrance without talking to him, but he had his own plans. He’d try to finagle a dinner invitation from her for this evening. As her son’s marquisate sponsored him, it was her responsibility to invite Devan to dinner on the evening of the first Sunday sermon to his new congregation.
As a flurry of parishioners approached, he greeted each one by name. Thankfully, he had a gift for remembering names and faces, and it had come in handy with all of his travels throughout the kingdom. Perhaps sometime in his future he’d settle and not have to rely on such a talent. The idea of becoming part of a community permanently wound itself around his heart like a warm embrace. He could easily see himself as the vicar serving this flock until his dying days. As he grew grayer, so would his benefactress. He had little doubt she’d still be a beauty at the age of seventy.
“Mr. Farris, we’re so fortunate that God has graced us with your presence.” Miss Sally Marcy shyly smiled.
“I consider myself the fortunate one, Miss Marcy.” Devan clasped her chilled hand with his. Immediately his brow furrowed. Did the woman not have a warm enough cloak? “How is your mother? I didn’t see her in attendance.”
“She thought she was catching the ague but wanted me to ask if you could stop by sometime this week.” Miss Marcy grew suddenly serious. “She does love her scripture, Mr. Farris.”
“It would be my honor,” Devan answered.
The next parishioner to demand his attention was Miss Penelope Rowley. The girl had shamelessly tried to flirt with him throughout the service while her aunt and uncle sat beside her completely oblivious. He exhaled slowly and prepared himself.
“Mr. Farris, your sermon has inspired me to look within myself to see how I might be able to forgive those who trespass against me.” She dipped her eyes in a show of modesty, then instantly raised them to his, pursing her lips together as if sending him a kiss.
“How clever to recite the Lord’s Prayer in relation to today’s sermon.” He kept his voice even in hopes there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his answer.
“I’m honored you think so,” she said with feigned modesty. “But you have a way with words that touches me deep inside.” She placed her hand over her chest, then patted it as if trying to draw his attention to her bodice.
No doubt she could turn the head of any of the young men in the congregation, but Devan wasn’t interested. He glanced to his side where Mr. Edward Grant, a somewhat wealthy young farmer, gazed from afar at the young woman.
“It’s through the Lord’s work that you found inspiration, Miss Rowley. Not mine.” Devan smiled sincerely but couldn’t help but notice that the young miss was fair of face and figure. She had to be at least twelve or fourteen years younger than his thirty-one years. Why she would even flirt with him was beyond his comprehension.
“Oh, how insightful, sir.” She blinked twice, then three times rapidly.
“Is something in your eye?” he asked. Before she could answer, Devan’s attention was directed to Lady Warwyk, who scurried away from him. He quickly nodded to Miss Rowley, then stepped toward Avalon. “My lady, might you have a moment?”
The marchioness stopped midstep, as if a thief stealing away in the night. She straightened her shoulders, then turned slowly toward him. “Of course, Vicar.”
Thane and Lady Sophia drew alongside.
Thane nodded in greeting with a wide smile. “Will you come to tea or dinner?”
“Oh, you must, Mr. Farris,” Sophia added. “We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we, Avalon?”
The marchioness turned the full force of her delightful green-eyed gaze his way. “I apologize, but—”
“Avalon, it’s customary that the sponsoring family…” Sophia whispered.
“I know,” she whispered curtly to her little sister.
“Please, Maman,” Thane added.
Avalon studied her son, then nodded to Sophia before she turned his way. “Mr. Farris, would you come to dinner this evening? It’ll be an informal affair, I’m afraid. I have several errands to attend to this afternoon.”
“How delightful, my lady.” He presented his most charming smile, then dipped a slight bow in her direction. “Dinner will be perfect as I’ve a few visits I must make myself.”
“Excellent,” Thane announced. “I have several new books that I’d love to show you. They’re on military campaigns.”
Devan squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “I look forward to it, Lord Warwyk. I see you have a great deal to teach me about long-term strategy.”
The boy beamed in response.
Thane and Sophia turned to Miss Rowley, who had demanded their attention. It left Devan the perfect opportunity to speak with Avalon privately.
“Wouldn’t you say the long game is worth studying, my lady?” Devan turned his attention to Avalon.
“It would depend upon what you were fighting for,” she said without blinking.
“Domination. After a long battle, perhaps the spoils of war would be domination of the other side?” Devan said, fully intending that she understand he spoke to her exclusively.
Her eyes widened.
“What do you think is worth fighting for?” he said softly. “Perhaps both sides want the same thing?”
She stared at him, and it was just the two of them as all others seemed to disappear. Her eyes blazed in challenge until her bravado melted before his eyes. For a brief moment, trepidation replaced her earlier temerity. Immediately, he wanted to withdraw the innuendo. For heaven’s sake, he’d just taught a sermon on why one should turn the other cheek. Now, he stood before her trying to challenge her—wanting her to know that he found her … what?
What did he want her to know? That he found her desirable and interesting?
She’d laugh him out of church and out of Thistledown if he ever said such a thing. He almost thought she truly was a witch. Did she realize the power she held over others? Her wealth was only part of the equation. Her real influence lay in her stalwart demeanor seasoned with kindness for others.
The truth was she could conjure and beguile a banshee from its hiding place.
As a mere man, he had no resistance to her or her power.
Before he could issue an apology, she dismissed him with a tilt of her head. “Economics. This is the answer to your question. Every war boils down to money. Money is power. Men believe it’s worth fighting for, Mr. Farris.” She leaned a little his way and lowered her voice. “You do realize who holds all the power between us, Vicar?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s me and my money. Now, shall we say six o’clock, then? We keep country hours at Warwyk Hall.”
“Until then, my lady,” he answered.
Without another word, she swept through the side entrance as if she were the Queen of Sheba and he were simply one of her lowly subjects. He couldn’t help but grin. She was stronger than he gave her credit for. She had a few chinks of vulnerability in her armor, but she was a worthy opponent.
When he arrived at her home later in the day, he’d apologize for his outlandish comments.
Then what fun he and Lady Warlock would have this evening.
He couldn’t wait to find out more about her.