The Headmistress of Rosemere (38 page)

W
illiam reached the clearing in front of the stable, his mind having played out every possible scenario. But even his imagination had not prepared him for what he saw. In the courtyard stood Lewis, dressed only in linen shirt, breeches, and boots, hair disheveled, his hands up in the air.

Then he saw him. Jonathan Riley. Intoxicated. Sloppy. Pointing a pistol directly at Lewis.

“What are you doing?” William shouted, stepping between Lewis and the gun. “Put down that pistol. Have you gone mad?” He stepped to one side, hoping to distract Riley and get closer to him.

Riley’s inebriated words slurred into each other. “You sold the land.”

The gun now was pointing right at him. William’s heart thudded. The land. He’d forgotten about Riley.

Riley spat out each garbled word. “I know about it. You deceived me!”

“You burned my property!” William hurled the words back. “Don’t be a fool. Put down the pistol. We’ll talk about—”

“No!” Riley shouted, eyes wild, staggering back a step in his intoxication. Riley recovered his balance and widened his stance. He tipped his head forward like a bull ready to charge.

“Ewan O’Connell was at Griffen’s End last night. Told me everything. How you seduced Creighton’s sister. How you masterminded the entire plan.”

When Lewis stepped to one side, Riley swung the gun in his direction. “Don’t move!”

Lewis stopped and kept his hands in the air.

Keeping his head still, William looked for anything he could use as a weapon. A rope next to the stable door. A pitchfork leaning against a rail.

William tried to make eye contact with Lewis. Riley was drunk. They should be able to overpower him . . . if only they could get the pistol from his hand. Lewis finally blinked with the slightest nod.

A scuffle, a rustling sound made William turn. Standing in the clearing was Patience Creighton, her eyes full of fear, in the tight grip of Cyrus Temdon. Anger exploded within William at the sight. One of Cyrus’s dirty hands was on her arm, and the other was around her waist. His work coat was still about her shoulders. She winced when Temdon adjusted his grip on her arm.

William whirled back around to Riley. “This has nothing to do with the Creightons. Your issue is with me, not with her.”

A greasy laugh slid from Riley’s mouth. “That was a happy accident, finding her, don’t you agree?”

“Release her, Riley!” When he did not respond, William changed his tactic. “What is it that you want? You must have come here with an idea.”

“You have cost me a great deal of money,
friend
. I am tired of
your games, your excuses. I offered to buy the land, pay you a good price, and you betrayed me and offered it to Creighton. I want that land, Sterling. I think you know me well enough. I am a man who knows how to get what I want.”

“Fine. I’ll sell you Latham Hill, but the land that Rosemere sits on is bound in a lease. I’ve told you that. It cannot be sold now. It would do you no good. Not now.”

“I think that Rawdon Creighton will reconsider that lease when he realizes who his sister has been cavorting with.”

William sucked in a deep breath. He needed a diversion. Something to distract Riley long enough to make a move. Long enough to get the gun away from him.

Angus
. It might work. Angus was in the pen and had wandered to the far side.

William whistled. As if on cue, the horse trotted around to the paddock gate next to the stable, distracting Riley just enough so that he turned his head.

William seized the break in Riley’s concentration. He lunged at Riley, knocking him to the ground. William slammed his fist against the man’s jaw, and the pistol flew from Riley’s hand. Both scrambled for it. Riley grabbed it first, but William pushed the barrel away.

“Give me the gun!”

They continued to grapple on the ground. Riley was sloppy. Uncoordinated.

William freed the pistol from his hand and kicked it away.

William stood up and pulled Riley to his feet. He steadied his target and again slammed his fist into Riley’s jaw. His neighbor staggered backward. William punched him again. And with this blow, Riley crumpled to the ground.

Chest heaving, William whirled around.

Patience
.

The skirmish with Riley had happened so quickly that Cyrus had not yet responded. His eyes were red with drink’s effect. William scooped up the pistol and walked toward Cyrus. Lewis was beside him.

“Release her, Temdon.” William pointed the pistol right at Cyrus.

Like a cornered animal, Temdon licked his lips. His eyes shifted from William to Lewis and then back to William. Then he shoved Patience away from himself with such force she fell to the ground.

William did not move or take his eyes from Temdon. “Get off my property. And if you ever set foot on this property or that of Rosemere, be prepared to meet this pistol again.”

William heard Patience scurry behind him, but he kept his eyes on his enemy.

Lewis moved toward Temdon, who bolted in the opposite direction. Lewis chased him.

William turned and saw that Riley was still in a heap.

He tucked the pistol in the waist of his breeches and put an arm around Patience. She did not pull away. Instead, she leaned into him. His anger intensified when he looked down and saw her frightened eyes and the tear tracks cutting through the smudges of dirt on her face. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

She looked up at him and offered a weak smile. “You warned me that the moors were dangerous. I should have listened.”

But her attempt to lighten the mood was lost on him. For nothing could be more serious—more important—than to keep her safe.

The expression in her eyes would be the undoing of him. He touched her face and tried to rub away the smudge of dirt on her cheek.

She drew in a shaky breath and tears filled her eyes again. “What happened?”

He stepped even closer, so close that he could not tell if she leaned into him, but suddenly, she was against him. Her body, so delicate. She was trembling. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pressed his lips to her smooth forehead before resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Oh, Patience.”

Strong emotion gripped him, commandeering his senses and all rational thought. She deserved a suitor who was steady. Smart. Wise. He was no good for her. But why did it feel like she completed a place in him that had been empty for as long as he could remember?

The harder he tried to step back, the stronger her lure. The sensation of her in his arms had the power to reach within him and unlock the part that had remained closed off for so many years.

His raspy words came out in but a whisper. “So help me, I promise I will never allow anyone to hurt you again.”

She pulled away. Her hands covered her mouth. So many questions were written in her expression. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

He took her hands in his own and looked down at her face. Her beautiful, lovely face.

He could feel his own eyes fill with tears. Not from just the effect of this moment, but the effect of every moment leading up to it. Slowly he put his hands on her shoulders and ran them down the rough wool of his coat that she was wearing.

He leaned close and whispered, “Believe me, Patience Creighton, when I say that I promise to see to it that you never have need to cry again.”

William was pulled from his trance when he noticed Lewis running toward them, unshaved cheeks ruddy from the cold.

“Well, that was a fine ‘good morning.’ ” Lewis adjusted his shirt and shoved a shock of hair from his forehead. “I don’t think we’ll be hearing from Temdon anytime soon. Miss Creighton, are you all right?”

Patience tightened William’s coat around her shoulders and nodded.

“Good. Do you want to go for the magistrate, or shall I?”

William wanted to be the one to bring Riley to justice, but he could not leave Patience. Not after what she had been through.

A sharp wind gusted from the moors, and Patience leaned in close. Instinctively, he put an arm around her and drew her closer. He looked over at Riley, who was still sprawled out on the ground, unconscious, and, considering the state of him, would likely be out for a while longer.

“Prepare the carriage. We’ll return Miss Creighton to Rosemere and then we will visit the magistrate.”

35

P
atience hurried to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of William as he departed from Rosemere to transport Riley to the magistrate, but the courtyard and the drive were empty. He was gone.

Her shoulders slumped. She never wanted to be apart from him again.

In the solitude of her bedchamber, with great reluctance, she removed Mr. Sterling’s—William’s—coat from her shoulders. It smelled of him . . . the scent of sandalwood soap . . . of the outdoors and leather.

The events of the morning had blurred, seeming more like a dream than reality. Her fear after being snatched by Cyrus Temdon had lost some of its clarity. Its horror. And yet this coat, hugged now in her arms, was a tangible confirmation of the morning’s happenings, of her protector making all things right again.

Upon their return from Eastmore Hall, William explained to Rawdon and the rest of her family what had occurred. But it was
what he didn’t say that touched Patience. For as he spoke of the morning’s happenings, he kept his hand tenderly and protectively on the small of her back. With such a public display, there could be no doubt of his intentions.

Now she just needed to hear him say the words.

Lydia knocked, opened the door, and peeked in. Her eyes were big and her cheeks were flushed. She scurried in and closed the door. “I still cannot believe it. Mr. Riley is a wretched, evil man! You must have been so frightened! Tell me everything, again, and don’t you dare omit a single detail.” She sat on the bed. “Here, sit down.”

Patience sat next to Lydia and thought about how much Lydia felt like the sister she had never had. “Well . . . after Miss Baden left, I—”

“Oh, for mercy’s sake”—Lydia waved her hand in dismissal—“Mr. Sterling told us all that already. What I want to know is what of Mr. Sterling?”

Patience smiled. For how could she not smile? He’d defended her. Embraced her. Pressed his lips to her forehead and promised her that she would never again be in fear.

But Patience did not need to say a word, for Lydia prattled on about how brave Mr. Sterling was. How handsome. How noble. Yet Patience heard little of it, so lost was she in her own recollections.

Lydia motioned for Patience to turn. “Rawdon was so angry. I don’t know who made him angrier, Mr. Riley or Mr. O’Connell.”

The mention of Mr. O’Connell drew Patience from her thoughts. “Mr. O’Connell?”

“His behavior last night was atrocious! Unforgivable! Rawdon tried to confront him immediately after the dinner last night, but Mr. O’Connell had already quitted Rosemere, and he never returned. He stormed out of the dining room immediately after you left. Then, first thing this morning, a letter arrived stating Mr. O’Connell would be returning to London. Permanently.”

At the news, Patience knew she should feel compassion for her brother now that his plans had been thwarted, but all she felt was relief. Freedom. It was like waking from a nightmare and knowing it is finally over. She’d been so worried about another confrontation with Ewan, and now that obstacle was gone.

And William Sterling did care for her! She had not misinterpreted his attentions.

Her heart felt as if it might burst at the happiness she felt for little Emma. William Sterling—Emma’s father. Suddenly, the mystery of the name—Isabelle—that he shouted out that frigid dawn after George found him in the stable made sense. It was Isabelle Simmons, Mr. Sterling’s past love and Emma’s mother.

Patience could look to the future with confidence. There could be no denying the events in their lives that had brought them both to this place. Whatever their differences in circumstances no longer mattered. Mr. Sterling had made clear his affections for her.

And Patience understood that her great romance was spread out before her. Her heart had made its choice.