Forever Mine (The Forever Series #2) Read online

  “Stop being annoying. I can’t abide you when you’re rude.”

  “Well, isn’t it money you want?”

  “Yes, but help too.”

  “What sort of help? You’re aware that I don’t wish to be put out by you.”

  “Heaven forbid that you assist me,” she sarcastically retorted.

  He abandoned the pouch and came back to his chair. He slouched down, refilled his glass, and began drinking again. He waved her over to the chair next to him.

  “Will you join me in a beverage?” he asked. “Or are you still a teetotaler?”

  “I enjoy hard spirits on occasion, but I have no desire to imbibe with a lush like you.”

  “Ah, the same old Catherine. That tongue of yours is so sharp. You should be more cautious about who you stab with it.”

  “What could you do to me that you haven’t already done.”

  He sighed and sipped his wine. “What happened? Let it all out so I don’t have to listen again in the future.”

  “I lost my job.”

  “Really? You seem so competent to me. Much more so than Sarah. She’s a wild devil. If anyone was to be terminated, I’d expect it to be her.”

  “I guess I was finally destined to suffer some adversity.”

  “You were fired?”

  “Yes.”

  “For what reason?”

  She didn’t care if he was apprised. She didn’t care about what others’ opinions might be. She was so devastated she felt frozen on the inside.

  “I had a flirtation with my employer’s fiancé.”

  He blanched with shock, then he laughed and laughed. “Oh, Catherine, that is the most hilarious news I’ve had in ages.”

  “It’s wasn’t too hilarious on my end.”

  “Are you ruined?” he asked.

  “Ruined enough.”

  “Are you in the family way? Is it that horrendous?”

  “I’m not in the family way,” she insisted.

  “Thank goodness.”

  Actually, from the little she grasped about bodily functions, she suspected it was much too early to tell if she was increasing. And even if she was, she wasn’t positive of what the signs would be. But she thought—if she turned out the have a babe in her belly—she would buy a gun. A very big gun. Then she would travel to Stanton Manor and shoot Christopher Wakefield-Stanton in the center of his cold black heart.

  “Who is this cad who dallied with you?” Jasper inquired. “Are you about to beg me to confront him? That can’t be why you’re here.”

  She chortled at the notion. “If I pleaded with you, would you duel with him on my behalf?”

  “No.”

  She could have announced the name of her seducer, but what was the point? There was no one to stick up for her, no one to complain if she’d been badly treated. How could the man’s identity count for anything?

  “He’s of no consequence,” she claimed, “and I’m sure you don’t know him.”

  “I might. Who is it?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I’m so curious. You simply must enlighten me.”

  “All right, all right. Christopher Wakefield-Stanton. Kit Stanton. He was a soldier for many years, but he resigned his commission and returned to England to be married.”

  “To be married!” He clucked his tongue. “Honestly, Catherine, you’re always so sensible. What possessed you?”

  “It was temporary insanity.”

  “It certainly must have been.” Jasper contemplated for a moment, then he mused, “Wakefield-Stanton. Wakefield-Stanton. I can’t recall a Kit Stanton, but I think I’m acquainted with his brother, Andrew.”

  “Yes, his brother is Andrew.”

  “I see him playing for high stakes at my gambling clubs.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me. You could share any salacious detail about that family, and I would believe it.”

  “So…this Kit Stanton has tossed you over?”

  “There was no tossing. He merely never had any intention of crying off from his engagement, but I was so naïve I didn’t realize that about him.”

  “You couldn’t lure him away from his betrothed?”

  “No, she’s very, very rich so I didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Is your heart broken?”

  “Yes, but I’ll survive.” She was weary of talking about Mr. Stanton. Each mention of him was like the prick of a knife so she changed the subject. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Nothing has ever stopped you in the past. Ask away.”

  “Did my brother, Hayden, fight a duel before he left for Rome with my parents?”

  He hemmed and hawed, then said, “It probably can’t hurt to tell you.”

  “Who was it with?”

  “A man named Alexander Wallace. Why?”

  “Some people in town were gossiping about it.”

  Jasper waved a hand. “It was a long time ago.”

  “What was the root of their quarrel?”

  “Hayden trifled with a married woman, and her husband didn’t take kindly to the news.”

  “You’re sure about it? It sounds so unlike him.”

  “Hayden publically admitted his transgression so yes, I’m quite sure.”

  “Was anyone injured?”

  “Gad, Catherine, Hayden was nearly killed. Mr. Wallace was an experienced marksman, and Hayden was shot in the chest.”

  “I had no idea,” she murmured.

  “He was about to be arrested so your parents fled with him, and they stayed away until the scandal died down. Mr. Wallace was too stupid to run away so he remained in England, and all of the punishment was leveled on him instead. He was jailed for attempting to murder a peer’s son. After he served his prison sentence, he was banished for five years.”

  She was amazed. “How is it that I never learned about it?”

  “Your parents must have wanted to protect you.”

  “I suppose.”

  “They did an excellent job of hushing it up.”

  She tried to imagine her brother wounded, at death’s door, her parents whisking him out of the country. She’d have been fourteen and just turning fifteen. She felt awful that they had kept it a secret. Why had they? Were they afraid their daughters were too young to be apprised? Had they been scared or ashamed?

  “Have you heard from my sisters?” she asked him. “It’s the real reason I visited. I’m desperate to talk to them.”

  “About what?”

  “About my broken heart—among other things.”

  He scoffed with disgust. “Buck up, Catherine. Muster your pride. You’re a Henley. Don’t let some common sod defeat you. If he chose another girl over you, it’s his loss.”

  “My goodness, Jasper, that was almost a compliment.”

  He grinned. “Was it? I’ll have to be more careful in the future.”

  “Have they contacted you recently? I’ve been worried about Sarah especially. I’m sensing she might be in trouble.”

  “Actually, I might have received a letter from Abigail, but I never look at my mail.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “It’s so depressing. You wouldn’t believe the audacity of some of my creditors.”

  “Could I see the letter? I lost track of her when I was hired at my last post, and I don’t know where she is. Sarah either.”

  He went to his desk again and pulled open a drawer. It was stuffed full of mail, and envelopes tumbled out and fell onto the floor. He riffled through the pile, then muttered, “Here it is.”

  He picked it up and came back to sit down. He flicked at the seal, and she watched as he read the words Abigail had penned. Gradually, he frowned and shook his head. “Absolutely not. I forbid it.”

  “What is it?”

  “She’s getting married, and she’s sent me an invitation to the wedding.”

  Catherine gasped. “Abigail is marrying?
Who is the groom?”

  “It’s Alexander Wallace!”

  Jasper handed over the invitation, and she frowned too, struggling to place the name. Where had she heard it?

  “Alexander Wallace? Didn’t you just tell me he’s the man who shot Hayden?”

  “Yes! What could your sister be thinking? She’s stark raving mad!”

  “Is she aware of Mr. Wallace’s connection to Hayden?”

  “She couldn’t be unless the violent fiend confessed it to her. Yet if he had, why would she wed him? It’s deranged behavior.”

  There was a letter in the envelope, and he perused it as he mumbled various belligerent comments. “Gad, she’s asking me to walk her down the aisle.”

  “Will you?”

  “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous, but I guess this explains why Mr. Wallace visited us a few weeks ago.”

  “He was here? Why would he dare?”

  “It’s what Des and I were trying to figure out. He’s a bully and a criminal, and we were terrified the entire time he was on the property. Who can predict what such a vicious brute might do?”

  “And Abigail is marrying him!”

  “Precisely.” He stood up and began to pace. “This is bad, Catherine. This is very, very bad.”

  “Abigail is an adult. How can we stop her?”

  “Ah, yes, that’s it.” He vigorously nodded. “We have to stop her. You will stop her.”

  “Me! How would I?”

  “Evidently, she’s at Mr. Wallace’s estate of Wallace Downs. You will travel there on my behalf, and you will deliver a message from me.”

  “What message?”

  “I forbid her from marrying that felonious cad. I refuse to give my blessing.”

  “What if she won’t listen to me?”

  “She’ll listen!” he pompously fumed. “She’ll listen or I’ll know why!”

  He was such a preposterous creature, and Catherine sighed with exasperation. How had he been lucky enough to inherit Middlebury?

  Over the years, he’d been awful to Catherine and her sisters. Well, in all actuality Desdemona had been awful. She hadn’t wanted the three Henley sisters underfoot and was responsible for them being kicked out to fend for themselves.

  If it had been up to Jasper, he probably would have let them stay at Middlebury. But he was henpecked, and when Desdemona had pushed them out he hadn’t had the spine to overrule her.

  When he’d been so horrid to them, it was hilarious for him to suppose he could order Abigail about on any issue, but it sounded as if he would send Catherine to Wallace Downs and that he was determined she arrive in a hurry. Could there possibly have been a better ending?

  “I’d be happy to speak to her for you,” she told him.

  “You’ll have to be very firm and make sure she understands my position. If she hasn’t been apprised about Mr. Wallace’s relationship to Hayden, you’ll have to tell her. She has to realize why this match is insane.”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “Why, if she weds him, we’ll be a laughingstock. People will titter over it forever. Just imagine it: Alexander Wallace and Hayden Henley’s sister! It boggles the mind.”

  “It certainly does,” Catherine pretended to commiserate.

  Jasper generated so much gossip that he’d completely ruined the Henley name. She and her sisters went by their mother’s maiden name of Barrington in their employment so there could be no hint of their link to Jasper. For him to worry about Abigail stirring gossip was particularly amusing.

  “When would you like me to go?” she asked.

  “You’ll have to leave first thing in the morning.”

  “May I use a carriage? Or if you’d like me to ride on the mail coach, you’ll have to purchase my ticket. I’m low on funds until I find another job.”

  “This is a matter of the utmost urgency. The Henley reputation is at stake so you’ll take my carriage.”

  “And my mission is to dissuade her?”

  “Yes, and you will extricate her from that man’s wicked clutches. You will bring her to Middlebury so I can talk some sense into her.”

  “I will,” Catherine fibbed.

  She had no intention of dissuading Abigail. She would visit Wallace Downs and meet Mr. Wallace. She would question Abigail as to whether she was aware of the duel with Hayden. Abigail was smart and rational. She wouldn’t marry a violent brigand.

  If Mr. Wallace seemed steady and kind, Catherine would be delighted to have him wed her sister. What was the other option for Abigail? Would she continue to toil away in London, acting as if she were a common servant? If Mr. Wallace could rescue her from that fate, Catherine would be eternally grateful.

  “I’ll depart in the morning as you requested,” she said. “In the meantime, I’ll locate the housekeeper and get myself settled for the night.”

  “I appreciate it. Don’t bother Desdemona if you don’t have to.”

  “She won’t even know I’m here.”

  Catherine walked out, suddenly feeling better than she had in ages. She would be with Abigail very soon, and once she was, she was positive everything would be all right.

  * * * *

  Christopher lurked in the alley behind Andrew’s favorite gambling club. The idiotic boy had lost so much money wagering there that he should have owned it by now. He was watching the street as people strolled by and headed to their evening entertainments.

  He was angrier than he’d ever been and absolutely spoiling for a fight. After his pointless conversation with Mr. Bolton, he’d proceeded directly to Bolton’s residence to check on Catherine, but she wasn’t there—as Bolton had insisted. Gertrude had coolly claimed she’d quit and fled on the spur of the moment, and he’d actually marched to her bedchamber and looked inside to see for himself.

  It was obvious a terrible incident had transpired, and he’d bribed two footmen and a housemaid to learn what it had been, but none of the servants had any news. One minute, she’d been present, then the next she wasn’t.

  Libby Markham was missing too, having flitted off with a bag packed for a lengthy journey. As with Catherine’s disappearance, he hadn’t gleaned any details as to her whereabouts.

  Finally, he’d called on Mrs. Ford. She’d been unpleasant and unhelpful, her comments naught but lies. Supposedly, she’d received a note from Catherine tendering her resignation, and she had no contact information for her. According to Ford, Catherine often stayed at a boarding house in the city but—while she’d rented a room—she hadn’t remained there and had snuck away without notice.

  Mrs. Ford had refused to provide the location of the boarding house, then she’d forced him to endure a lecture as to the unseemly nature of his interest in Catherine, after which she’d kicked him out and demanded he not pester her again.

  On his way out, he’d bribed a clerk to supply the address of the boarding house, and he’d hurried there. As Mrs. Ford had stated, Catherine had tarried briefly, then left without notice.

  He didn’t know what other avenues to pursue in trying to find her. She’d vanished, and he possessed scant personal facts to use in any search. He had no idea where she might have gone after she was fired.

  And he was sure that’s what had happened. Their affair had been discovered, and she’d been tossed out to fend for herself. She’d lost her job because of him. She’d lost her position with the Boltons and with Mrs. Ford’s agency. She’d lost her rented room.

  London was an expensive, frustrating place to live, especially for a young lady who was out of work and all alone. She had to realize he hadn’t forsaken her, and he wondered—if he simply traveled to Stanton Manor—might she eventually show up there?

  The galling situation had fueled his rage, and he was eager to lash out and quell some of his fury.

  Out on the sidewalk, a seedy character hastened by, and Christopher grinned, certain he’d stumbled on the precise thug who had pummeled Andrew. He s
tepped out of the shadows, dashed up behind him, and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Mr. Hodson, I presume?”

  The man stopped and turned. “Yes?”

  Before he could blink, Christopher hit him as hard as he could, and the oaf dropped like a stone. Christopher grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him into the alley. A few passersby halted and glanced over, but it wasn’t the sort of area where a fellow would intervene in trouble.

  Once they were out of sight of any witnesses, Hodson struggled to rise, but Christopher hit him again, and he slumped to the ground in a stunned heap.

  “Do you know who I am?” Christopher asked.

  Hodson studied him, but no recognition dawned. Spitting blood, he muttered, “You’re a lunatic is who you are.”

  “I am Christopher Wakefield-Stanton. My brother is Andrew Stanton.”

  “Bully for you.”

  Christopher reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol. He laid the end of the barrel on Hodson’s forehead, right between his eyes where he couldn’t miss it.

  “Would you like to say that again?” he calmly inquired. “You could repeat it, but be a little more polite.”

  Hodson wasn’t a dunce. His brows flew up. “You have my undivided attention, Mr. Stanton. There’s no need for violence.”

  “Really? That’s not what my brother tells me. You’re tough, Hodson, when you’re beating on a drunk, stupid boy. What about now? Are you feeling tough?”

  “He owes money to my employer. He has to pay.”

  Christopher yanked out a wad of bills and stuffed them in Hodson’s shirt. It was five-hundred pounds, half the amount Mr. Bolton had furnished.

  “I don’t care what the actual sum might be,” Christopher warned. “After you delivered your thrashing, the total decreased significantly. You’ll take what I’ve just given you, and you’ll proceed to your employer and inform him the debt is squared. Do you understand me?”

  “It’s not up to me,” Hodson claimed.

  “Then you’ll simply have to convince him. Andrew advises me you love to hear yourself talk. Let’s see how adept you are at persuading your boss, and you’d better talk more eloquently than you’ve ever talked in your life.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll kill you,” Christopher casually stated.