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FAITH STOOD IN HER aunt and uncle’s garden staring after Uncle Will. He had left moments earlier in a rush, after a telephone call that rendered him angrier than she had ever seen him before.
Aunt Catherine watched him leave as well, his brief explanation to her carried out in whispers Faith couldn’t hear clearly.
But Nico wasn’t there, a note explaining that he would be late arriving only just after her uncle had gone.
Everything happened so fast, and now, she was stunned, unsure of what she should do to help, unaware of what was going on.
Perhaps when Nico arrived, he would be able to explain, she considered, but her aunt came up behind her, her footsteps crunching on the unkempt grass. Most of the neighbor’s lawns were carefully trimmed, but her aunt’s garden was a bit wild, lush and vibrant, although even as she stood within the colorful oasis, Faith felt lost.
Her aunt slid her arms around Faith’s shoulders, tugging her back to rest against her chest.
“I know you and Nico are very fond of each other, but you must set that aside for now, at least until this matter is settled.”
Faith had relaxed momentarily, comforted by her aunt’s presence, but now she pulled away, turning around to stare at her.
“What do you mean? What needs to be settled?”
And how can I set aside my feelings for him, she wanted to add, but she held back.
“Mr. Armstrong has involved the police, it seems, with the matter of his stolen plans. Nico is being questioned at the police station, and it was the hotel that called your uncle to tell him. They know Nico well at this point, and were concerned when he left with a man who, the hotel employee said, did not look as if he had Nico’s best interests in mind.”
How could the police be involved when Nico had done nothing wrong?
“Hello? Where is everyone?”
Aunt Catherine was holding Faith’s elbows in her hands tightly when Thomas peered around the corner, frowning.
Of all days for him to show up, unannounced and with no explanation.
Faith stumbled over her own feet running to get to him, and threw herself into his arms. She caught herself before she began to cry, not wanting to upset him on his first day back.
But she clung to him, and only relaxed when she felt her cousin’s arms tighten around her, realizing how much she had missed his company and his friendship.
He didn’t like Nico, though, so how could she explain why she was nearly in tears?
“We have a difficult situation today, Thomas. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it, but I hope you’ll be considerate of Faith’s feelings.”
She wouldn’t have to explain now, because it was clear that Aunt Catherine was of a mind to tell Thomas everything.
Or maybe not everything.
While their aunt told Thomas, in the briefest terms, what had transpired yesterday and this morning, Faith kept her cheek pressed against Thomas’ chest, listening to his heart race. He held her with one arm, the fingers of his opposite hand working in the front of his hair so roughly she thought he might yank a few strands out.
“I don’t know what to think, honestly,” he explained when Aunt Catherine was finished. “I’ve behaved badly towards him, for my own reasons. But those reasons aren’t excuses, although I’m still worried about his intentions towards Faith.”
And there it was.
What Faith wanted to keep to herself, what she hoped their aunt wouldn’t bring up, was in the open, laid bare by the one she hoped to keep out of it for as long as possible.
For both of their own good.
“I’m sure he means to speak to your parents, doesn’t he, Faith? It’s just been a difficult time at your house, and now . . . this might make it harder for him to approach them.”
Thomas rested his hand on his forehead and closed his eyes.
“Why don’t we head to your house, Faith? I’m sure Uncle Will will be preoccupied when he returns, and he’ll need to deal with the Armstrong project now in a different manner than he intended, as well as this problem with Nico.”
He paused, and before either Faith or Aunt Catherine could speak, went on.
“He must really trust Nico to defend him unquestionably.”
The room fell silent, as if Thomas needed a moment for the thought to sink in and both Faith and their aunt knew this, allowing him the time to do so.
“Let’s go, then. Aunt Catherine, will you let Evie know that I should have a new book for her by the end of the week? She’s been waiting, and I thought I would tell her myself, but now . . .”
“Oh, Thomas! I thought I heard your voice!”
Evie rushed out of the house and into the garden just as her mother turned to her, shaking her head.
“Come along, Evie. They have somewhere to be, and we need to talk.”
“Oh, but Mother, he’s expecting a package from London, and you know how much . . .”
“Yes, yes, we all know how long you’ve been waiting for your books. You can speak with Thomas later.”
Evie’s hair shone beautifully in the sunlight, her pale green skirt and cream shirt a lovely contrast with the red-gold strands.
She would have all manner of suitors during next year’s season, but she wouldn’t care for any of them if they didn’t have a book in their hands.
Faith nearly smiled at the thought, the idea promising some amusement during the bustle and fuss of all the social events to come.
“I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long, Evie. I promise I’ll come back later today and we’ll talk, even though I don’t have a new book for you.”
Evie’s smile was electric, and Faith couldn’t hold back her own. She hoped that nothing would ever steal Evie’s excitement, or her joy for stories and writing.
But Faith herself had never expected that anything would invade her own perfect life, and now, so much had happened over the past few weeks that her mind was reeling.
And so was her heart.
“Let’s go,” Thomas whispered to her, as he raised a hand towards their aunt and cousin. Faith offered another small smile, hoping she didn’t look as distressed as she felt.
“Thank you for being here, Thomas. I didn’t know when we would see you again, but we certainly hoped it would be under our usual circumstances.”
Faith knew it was always best to be honest with Thomas, and with everyone. But the new developments in her life made her realize how vital this was; to their friendship and their family relationships.
“I know I’m overprotective, both of you and Evie,” he began, as if he hadn’t heard what she had said just now, and perhaps had planned his words carefully ahead of time. “I’ve spent a lot of time talking with my parents about where I tend to cross a line, where I’m wanting you all to myself, which is selfish.”
She had never considered him selfish, nor had she worried that their closeness might become a problem when she wanted to spend time with someone else.
Someone who was not a part of their family.
Someone who Thomas might see as a threat to their relationship.
“I also don’t want you to get hurt, but I can’t stop you from taking that chance.”
He frowned, as if he was deep in thought, and as Faith stepped over deep carriage tracks in the dusty road, she held her tongue, waiting for him to continue.
What must it cost him to admit so much? He had always been introspective and thoughtful, careful with his words and actions.
It would have been easier for him to stand his ground and remain defensive of her honor.
“I suppose when I did consider that you would eventually have a suitor, I expected it would be someone we knew. Someone I could be sure would treat you well, and keep you safe. Make sure you had everything you needed and wanted.”
She bit her lip, wondering if she would stop his train of thought if she spoke.
“My parents will be sure of this, Thomas, and as much as I appreciate how you look out for me, I think you can step back and allow us to enjoy our friendship again, without these worries. I’ve missed you so much.”
She leaned closer to him, and he tightened his arm, where her fingers wrapped around his arm just above his elbow.
But he only nodded, and didn’t say another word until they reached her home.
“Oh, miss, I’m sure we didn’t expect you home just yet.”
Joanna met them at the door and stood aside as they stepped in, only to find Faith’s parents standing at the end of the hall near the front room, where a stream of sunlight shone on her mother’s graying hair. Her father was in her mother’s shadow, the silver threads that wound in his own dark hair barely visible.
“At least, I didn’t,” Joanna mumbled, and Faith smiled at her. The maid’s eyes grew wide for a moment, as if she hadn’t meant to speak the words out loud, but then she bobbed a quick curtsy and ducked out through a door along the hall.
“We’ve heard about what’s happened this morning, Faith, and we want to speak with you about it,” her father began, and as his voice trailed off, her mother picked up, her voice firm and strong.
“About several things, in fact.”
Faith had given her parents as much privacy as she could, which was easy, given how large Conte de Fée was and how much space was available for them to share.
But she had also missed them, and wished that now, of all times, she could ask them to help her wade through her feelings and worries.
She had also believed that it was selfish of her to want them to herself, when she had always had their attention and now, they needed some time to themselves.
“Thomas, would you like to stay and have some waffles? I believe Rachel’s assistant has been practicing and we’ve ended up with more than we need this morning.”
Her cousin nodded and offered her parents a quiet thank you before squeezing one of Faith’s hands and following Joanna’s path from the hall.
“Come along, Faith. You look terrified, and I can’t imagine what we could have done to frighten you so.”
Her mother sounded hurt, and Faith never wanted to cause either of her parents distress, so she ran forward and took her mother’s hands in her own.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you that impression. I could never be afraid of you or Father.”
Her parents exchanged a quick glance, and if Faith was reading it correctly, they were relieved.
But why?
She followed them as they walked over to the window that looked out over the lawn and the water, over the wall where they often stood to look over the Cliff Walk.
The window was as tall as the vaulted ceiling where the gilded chandelier hovered over the room, as if her grandparents had wanted to absorb every speck of sunlight into the house that was possible each morning.
“We’ve been mired in our own grief, and didn’t realize that it was keeping you and your brother at a distance. That was never our intention.”
Her father took one of her hands in his own rough one, which was so unlike most men in their set. He had spent years doing whatever work was necessary to keep up the shelter, and it showed.
“But we’ve been speaking with your aunts and uncles, and have heard talk from the servants,” her mother continued where her father left off. “It’s clear that you’ve needed our help more than ever, and I’m sorry we haven’t been present for you.”
Her mother took her other hand and pulled Faith close to them both. She sucked in a breath, determined not to start crying again.
“But we are now, and always will be.”
A solitary tear trailed along her mother’s pale cheek, and Faith nodded, pressing her lips together to hold her own tears at bay.
“So you know, about the missing plans, and . . . about Nico.”
Her father cleared his throat.
“Yes, Nico.”
The sound of Nico’s name from her father’s lips was a little disconcerting, although he didn’t quite sound disapproving.
Not quite.
“Your aunts are sure that you care for him, and that he feels the same. I’m under the impression that he’s been discouraged from speaking to us. Is this true?”
Discouraged?
Were they talking about Thomas’ behavior?
Faith frowned, unsure.
“It may be that he is concerned about what we’ve told him is a family situation. He certainly doesn’t know about the baby, but,” she stopped, noticing how her mother flinched at the word baby and wishing she had chosen her words more carefully. “He is very respectful, and I’ve told him that I like him, so perhaps he isn’t in a hurry.”
She was babbling, the sound of her own voice rising rapidly in her ears, so she took a deep breath.
“Yes, I care for him, but now he’s being questioned about a crime he didn’t commit, and Uncle Will is helping. But it’s Mr. Armstrong, the banking Armstrongs, and they’re a very influential family, aren’t they?”
Faith couldn’t remember socializing with any of the Armstrongs, so perhaps there were no family members her age, and since her family spent winters in Newport rather than returning to Manhattan, effectively missing out on so much of the social whirl during the majority of the year, she hadn’t been exposed to them.
But they definitely had a reputation.
Money was never discussed in her home, except for the basic awareness that the Davenports had plenty of it, so much more than they could ever need, and used it to help the less fortunate.
Faith had no idea what her family was worth, and how that might compare to the Armstrong fortune.
Did it matter?