Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (61 page)

He expected Lillian to roll her eyes and try not to laugh at his aunt's grandiose comment. When Lillian moved to wrap both arms around his other one, he was so shocked he could not speak.

“
Edmund
is such a dear man,” she cooed in a tone he had never heard her use. Had a changeling taken over Lillian's body? He was accustomed to her treating him with the same warm friendship as she did Vera. Now she acted as if he already had made her promises of a future together.

Lillian stood on tiptoe and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek before going to greet Lady Meriweather. Such a kiss offered more fuel to the speculative fire that he and Lillian were more than friends.

When he saw the expression on Sir Nigel's face, a predatory, satisfied smile that matched his aunt Belinda's, he had sudden sympathy for a fox being chased by the huntsmen and their pack of dogs.

“I cannot know the state of another man's heart,” Sir Nigel said with a chuckle, “but I know my great-niece, Mrs. Uppington, and I can assure you that she has been raised well. She knows her place should be at the side of a fine lord, and she is welcome in the finest homes.”

“She sounds like an excellent match, but my nephew is cautious in all his decisions,” Aunt Belinda said, keeping her arm through Edmund's so he could not make an excuse to flee from the disconcerting conversation. “Do not fret, Sir Nigel. I can tell you that he is far from immune to your lovely niece's charms.”

Edmund's face felt so hot, he feared it would blister. Why was his aunt prattling on as if he had confided his intentions to her? But, a small voice in the back of his mind asked, was she wrong? Sir Nigel had been right when he had said that Lillian Kightly would make Edmund an excellent wife. Lillian was beautiful and knew the exact thing to do as Meriweather Hall's lady. Far better than he knew how to be its lord.

But, as the justice of the peace had reminded him the night of Cadman's death, Edmund still had much to learn about being a peer. He wanted more from a marriage than a wife who would steer him through Society, but was holding on to the expectations of his earlier life the wrong decision?

As if to answer his question, though he could not guess what the answer was supposed to be, Vera appeared at his side.

She smiled. “If you will forgive me, Sir Nigel, Mrs. Uppington, I must steal Lord Meriweather from you for a moment.”

His aunt started to protest, but Sir Nigel said, “Of course, Miss Fenwick. We must not be greedy when Lord Meriweather has many guests today.”

“Thank you.” She waited for Edmund to untangle himself from his aunt's clasp as well as Lillian's, then led him out of the chapel.

As soon as they were out of his aunt's earshot, he said, “I should be thanking you.”

“You had the look of a man who wanted to be anywhere else but where he was.”

“As I have said before, you have a gift of insight, Vera.”

“I really had a reason to intrude.”

“All the better.”

“Lady Meriweather sent me to find you because she has some task for you.”

He laughed. “I hope it will keep me busy for the rest of the afternoon.”

“I can't promise that.”

Before he could reply, he heard his name called in Ashland's arrogant voice. He stopped and said, “If I don't answer him, he will stalk me until I do.”

“Go ahead. I can find someone else to help me.”

“All right.” He grimaced, then muttered, “There's no rest for the wicked.”

“Or
from
the wicked,” she said before she took his hand and squeezed it. “Be careful, Edmund.”

She did not give him a chance to reply before she hurried away. As he turned to face Ashland, who was striding toward him, he appreciated her advice. He hoped he could follow it.

Chapter Eleven

M
eriweather Hall's great hall harked back to the manor house's medieval origins. Thick rafters were stained with smoke from the large hearths where, once, meals were cooked. Iron chandeliers hung from the peak of the ceiling, and thick candles burned on them. The windows along each side of the room had been opened to allow in the breeze on a day that was both seasonably warm and sunny.

Tables were arranged in long lines, and the parishioners gathered around them, awaiting the rare treat of being served their food by the Meriweather Hall staff. Like all the traditions at the old estate, having the feast in the great hall was one that reached so far back in time that nobody knew how it had begun.

Not that it mattered, Vera thought, as she took her seat next to her brother halfway down the great hall from where Edmund sat with Lady Meriweather and his aunt as well as Lord Ashland and Sir Nigel. Lillian slid into an empty chair close to him and gave him such a warm smile that Vera could sense its heat from many feet away. She looked down at the plate in front of her before her expression betrayed her feelings.

A match between Edmund and Lillian would be an excellent one, combining two families who had lived on Sanctuary Bay for generations. Lillian made Edmund laugh, relieving the stress that too often lined his brow. She was beautiful, and, if Vera read her face correctly, Lillian had a
tendre
for him.

All that was true, but it was also true that the very thought of Edmund marrying Lillian sent a dagger of pain slicing through her heart. It was silly to imagine he might fall in love with her instead of Lillian. More than silly. It could lead to more trouble than she could handle. To be the cause of Gregory losing his living again would be devastating. No matter how many times she told herself that Edmund was a better and kinder man than Nolan Hedgcoe, letting her dreams wander in such a direction was dangerous. Better to relish their friendship and smile when he stood by his bride at the altar in front of Gregory who would pronounce them husband and wife.

A soft moan slipped past her lips, and her brother glanced at her before asking if something was amiss.

“No,” she hurried to say.

“Then why are you groaning? You are not ill, are you?” He lowered his voice. “I'm going to need your assistance even more this week than usual after what happened on the beach.”

“I know, and I am not ill.” She forced a smile as she patted his hand. “Do not let me distract you from your duties.”

“I never do.” He stood and called out for grace to be said before the meal was served.

Vera did not listen to his words as she sent up a prayer of her own. She needed God to help her walk the path He had chosen for her and not let her stray where her own heart yearned to go.

Gregory smiled as a chorus of “Amen” followed his in the moment before dozens of conversations began, and the servants swarmed toward the tables to fill the plates. He sat and turned to answer a question from farther along the table.

Finishing her own prayer, Vera sampled the food placed in front of her. She was becoming accustomed to someone else cooking and serving their meals, but she missed her cozy kitchen. A sob bubbled up from the place where she had forced down her grief at losing her home and almost everything in it. Another loss to add to the others that had shaped her life.

She faked a cough when Gregory looked at her with curiosity. He had enough sorrow of his own, and she would not add to it by admitting she teetered on the edge of tears.

Quietly excusing herself, Vera walked with the kitchen maids out of the great hall. When they turned toward the kitchen stairs, she went in the opposite direction. She wanted to run, but that would draw attention to her. A single word or glance in her direction might shatter her.

Somehow, she found her way outside and into one of the smaller gardens. She sank on to a stone bench beneath an arbor that would, once summer arrived, be covered by a wild explosion of roses. The vines, like most of the plants in the garden, had only begun to green after the cold, snowy winter and the cool, rainy spring.

Her tears burned even more hotly against her lashes as she looked at the beds where the bulbs she had brought from the vicarage were planted. She had remained calm while Edmund had helped her dig them up and while she had pronounced that she would transplant them to this garden until a new vicarage was ready. When she had said that, she had been determined that not even a horrific fire would halt her from doing what she had promised to after she and Gregory came to Sanctuary Bay: make him a peaceful home where he could concentrate on the work he had been called to do.

A shadow crossed the ground in front of her, and she looked up to discover Edmund. She should have guessed he would notice her leaving. He seldom missed anything. Was it a skill he had honed during his time in the army?

“Your flowers will be sprouting soon,” he said.

“I know.” All her efforts to keep her sorrow out of her voice were in vain.

“Now I have distressed you.”

“No, you haven't.”

“If not me, then something or someone else has. Are you all right?” He ran a finger along her cheek, and she resisted the yearning to lean her face against his palm. “You have been crying.”

“Only a stray tear or two.”

“May I ask why?”

“Of course,” she answered so he could not guess that her tears had welled up when she had seen Lillian flirting with him. “It is no secret that I always end up having a stray tear or two on Mothering Sunday.”

“Because you miss your late mother?”

“Because I don't remember her.” She stared at the ground. “Gregory has memories of her, but she died shortly after I was born.”

He sat beside her without asking permission, startling her because his manners usually were perfect. She understood when he said, “I am sorry. I have few memories of my own mother, but the ones I have I treasure. When I was a child and someone remarked that one of my actions resembled my mother's, it was the finest compliment I could be given.”

“When Gregory says something like that, it's often to remind me that our mother had a reputation as something of a saucy minx. He is certain to mention my resemblance to our mother if I speak without thinking.”

“I think I would have liked your mother, then.”

She raised her eyes to his earth-brown ones. “How can you know that?”

A smile curved along his lips. “Because I like when you speak without thinking. It shows me you are discerning and profound.”

Vera smiled in spite of herself. “Profound? Nobody has ever described me that way.”

“Maybe they would if you revealed that side of yourself more often.” His words sounded as if he considered each one carefully before he spoke it. He grew serious, so serious she prayed that he was not about to impart more bad news.

“I think our parishioners prefer their vicar's sister to be in the background,” she said. The words were bitter on her tongue and even more bitter in her heart. How she wished she could serve the parish and God in more ways than planning when the church should be cleaned and deciding which family would provide the bread for communion! She understood it was important to have someone in charge of the annual calendar of events and to make sure that no one felt left out or overburdened. Still, she wished there was a way that she could speak up in church and share her love for God without having to remain half hidden behind Gregory.

“That is,” Edmund said in the same deliberate voice, “because they see you in no other way. If you were to reveal the true Vera Fenwick, they might view you differently. As I do now.”

She faltered, not sure how to reply. “What do you mean?”

“Rather than answer that, let me ask you a question.”

“All right.”

“How long have you been writing your brother's sermons?”

She pressed her hand over her heart that seemed to have forgotten how to beat. Her breath burned in her lungs, but she could not release it when she was not certain she could draw another.

Somehow, Edmund had discovered she did that task. He had come to get the truth. For him to leave the feast as he had must mean that he was very displeased that she had helped her brother. She stared at his face that was as hard and unyielding as the stone bench. Frantic thoughts exploded through her head, each gone before she could grasp it, but one fact was frightfully clear. Even though she had done only as Gregory asked, her actions could cost him his living...again.

* * *

Edmund could not name a single emotion that whipped across Vera's face, because he did not want to believe he was seeing despair and fear. She gaped at him as if he had become a monster.

For a long moment, she was silent; then she whispered, “How did you know?”

“That you wrote today's sermon? The words your brother spoke sounded like ones you have used.” He rested one shoulder against the side of the arbor, taking care not to get too close to the thorns. “And I saw you mouthing the words during the service before he uttered them. Either he had practiced his sermon in your presence so often you had memorized it—and that was unlikely with all that has happened this week—or you knew it because you had written each word.”

“Please, don't think that Gregory is slacking in his duties.”

He was taken aback by her response, because he had assumed her first question would be if he had enjoyed the sermon. His astonishment made him stumble over his words. “I—I did not m-m-mean to suggest that. I have seen how hard the vicar works, especially since the two of you have been staying here.”

“Yes, he does.” An odd urgency filled her words. “He works very hard, and when I can help, I do. The parishioners want the vicar to listen to their concerns. I cannot help with that. I cannot preside over marriages or baptisms. But I can write a sermon for him now and then. After all, I have learned much about faith and God from my brother.”

“Vera—”

Her voice took on a hysterical note as she jumped to her feet. “Gregory has served this parish well for ten years, and he will continue to do so as long as you allow him to keep the living. If it concerns you that I am writing his sermons on occasion, I know Gregory will refocus his priorities.”

He stood. “Vera—”

“I only wanted to help. Him and the parish. It was—”

He put his finger to her lips, shocking her into silence. “You are babbling.”

“I want you to know that Gregory does so much that, if I help a bit, I don't want you to think he neglects his duties. He has not ignored them a single day of his time in Sanctuary Bay. He...” Her voice faded as he put his hands on her shoulders.

As he had suspected, she trembled with strong emotions she was trying futilely to control. He bent so that their eyes were level. He hated how the light had gone out in her eyes. Maybe he should have a talk with the vicar. If the man did not comprehend what a treasure he had in his sister, it was time that he did. “All I wanted to do is compliment you on how well-written today's sermon was. I know I was not the only one whose heart was touched.”

“Oh.”

He waited for her to add something more, something that would explain the haunted, hunted expression in her eyes.

“Vera, my dear—” Lillian paused at the edge of the terrace, her hand raised in a half wave. The wind that was blowing clouds in from the sea tugged at the ribbons on her stylish pink bonnet. “Pardon me. I did not realize you weren't alone. I hope I am not intruding.”

“Not at all,” Vera said with a smile and too much enthusiasm for Edmund's liking. She stepped away from him. “Do come and join Edmund. I must...” She left the rest of her excuse unspoken as she fled back into the house.

Lillian looked after her with a dismay Edmund guessed was mirrored on his face. He made sure his expression was bland by the time the blonde turned to him. After her outrageous flirting earlier, he did not want to be discovered alone with Lillian in the garden by her great-uncle or his aunt. That would guarantee the wedding banns would be read for the first time next Sunday.

Odd that he had not concerned himself with such matters when he had followed Vera into the garden. He had been thinking only of finding out what had upset her. He wanted to help her so she would offer him that smile that always made his pulse take off like a neck-or-nothing rider.

“I am sorry,” Lillian said as she walked to where Edmund stood by the arbor. She kept a polite distance between them. “I know I interrupted something important.”

He was astounded that she acted as if she had not been clinging to him earlier as tightly as the rose vines did to the arbor. Why was she acting differently each time she saw him? Her great-uncle was peculiar, but Lillian had seemed normal...until the past month.

“It is not an easy day for Vera,” he said. “She feels the loss of her mother even more keenly on Mothering Sunday.”

She nodded. “I can understand that.” She tried to smile, but her lips trembled. “I miss my mother dreadfully. I understand that she wants time alone with her new husband, but I wish I could go home where I know every inch of our house.”

“How is your exploration of Sir Nigel's house going? Have you found any secret passages or rooms filled with treasure?” He chuckled, though he never had felt less like laughing.

“Uncle Nigel has kept me busy with many small details for a gathering he wants to host later this summer, so that I have had no time to think of anything else.”

“I thought his assembly was always in the autumn.”

She shrugged. “He keeps saying that change is good, so he wants to hold the gathering shortly after the London Season is over.” She looked out toward the sea. “It is splendid here.”

“It is.” Edmund glanced back at the house, hoping Vera would come back to the garden, knowing she would not. “And the view is never the same two days in a row.”