Page 6 of An Inconvenient Vow

“Child, child!” her mother quavered, looking just as embarrassed as her spouse. “Shhhh!”

Someone cleared their throat, and that was when Jeffree noticed her. The woman who had compounded the lie and boldly claimed him for her lover. His chest swelled with indignation. Sabina Hendry looked so far from the picture of a fallen woman that it was almost laughable.

She stood there in her prim, outdated wimple, her hands on her hips, looking steely-eyed and unrepentant in the midst of the throng. There was something unnervingly bold about her, he decided. You would think she would scarcely dare to look him in the eye after her outrageous lie, but there she was, facing him bold as brass.

“You need have no concerns on my account, Isemay,” she said calmly enough. “Do go with Mother now; there’s a good girl. Father will stand by me and see I am not dealt with unjustly.”

Isemay sniffed. “Well, so long as no one suggests you are branded or your ears cut off,” she said tearfully. “Like they did with that bawd from Leckington last winter.”

Jeffree stiffened. Though of tender years, clearly this sister was just as unschooled in her tongue as the older. Both were wayward and cared not a whit for the superior company they now found themselves in. He was shocked to his core to hear the hallowed halls of Ganford Chase polluted with such talk!

“Isemay!” her mother shrieked. “The very idea! The things these children do hear,” she twittered, towing her daughter away. Isemay cast a worried backward glance over her shoulder as she was led toward her betrothed, and Jeffree shook his head. His uncle had chosen ill, attempting to link the lot of the De Crecys to these ill-bred Burrells.

Jeffree let his narrowed gaze return to his true quarry. As a rich man, he could afford to bribe his way clear of any consequences, but that was not the case when it came to Mistress Sabina Hendry. Was she really as calm as she appeared? He found it hard to believe. The punishments for sexual misconduct were harsher for women, and with no gold to grease their palms, these ecclesiastical courts could be brutal.

As though she felt his accusing glare, she looked up at him a moment, their gazes clashing. The eyes that met his own were coldly impersonal and not so much as a blush stained her cheek. Then, just as quickly, she seemed to dismiss him altogether, her gaze returning to that of the bearded magistrate who was conferring with his fellows.

Jeffree glanced toward her father, Master Burrell, hovering close by with an anxious expression on his round face. “I pray you gentlemen will spare my child,” he quavered. “This past year has not been kind to her what with losing her husband and her home—” he began but was cut off by the loud-mouthed summoner.

“Silence!” he barked, and Master Burrell lapsed once more into unhappy silence, practically wringing his hands.

“This matter is a grave one,” the questor started solemnly. “A very grave and serious matter indeed, which has led to grievous outcomes. As such, my colleagues and I can only see fit to mete out the most severe of punishments at our disposal—”

“Just one moment,” Jeffree interrupted loudly, drowning out the fellow’s speech. “I desire some speech alone with Mistress Hendry.”

There was an awkward silence as everyone stared boggle-eyed at him.

“Some might say there has already been a surfeit of desire and alone time betwixt the two of us, Sir Jeffree,” Sabina Hendry replied, confounding him for a moment with her audacity.

He glared at her. She gazed back, a cool challenge in her gray eyes. He had never seen anyone look less like a temptress in that frumpy headdress, but she had nerve, he would give her that. An abundance of bloody nerve. “Nevertheless, madam,” he ground out once he could catch his breath. “I would have an audience with you.”

“Alone, I fear cannot be permitted at this point, Sir Jeffree,” the magistrate interrupted. He wilted a little under Jeffree’s angry answering gaze but looked resolute on this point. Ridiculous, in Jeffree’s opinion, as clearly they believed that horse had already bolted.

“Apart then!” he flung at them angrily, gesturing to a far corner of the room. “You can surely observe us from a distance.”

“I am afraid that it is impossible, Sir Jeffree,” one of his fellow officials intoned gravely. “If you have aught to say to this woman, it must be here and now, in front of witnesses. It has already been proved that your motives in seeking her out are far from pure.”

Jeffree ground his teeth and turned toward Sabina Hendry. “Well, then madam. It seems we must converse in front of all present.” She made no response and that needled him. “Come now, you are surely not afraid of me, not after all we have meant to each other,” he said nastily and was pleased to see a slight flush mount her cheek, even as he heard the indrawn breaths his words had caused. It was worth it though, to put a dent in her blasted composure.

Sabina Hendry cleared her throat. “As you say, Sir Jeffree. It would be disingenuous for me to play coy with you now. What is’t you would you say to me?”

He sent a vaguely hunted glance from left to right. Was he really going to have to do this? “In light of all that has passed,” he said gruffly. “It seems that only one path lies before us. One that would lead to the restoration of our reputations in any case.”

His words seemed to mystify her, a crinkle appearing between those gray eyes. “I don’t think I quite—?” she started, but he threw up a hand to silence her, even as his soul rebelled against the words he was struggling to utter.

“You will have to marry me,” he said abruptly, forcing the words past his lips. “At this juncture, neither of us has much choice in the matter.”

Her reaction would have been comical if so much had not been at stake. Jeffree was not exactly known for his sense of humor at the best of times, and at this precise moment, he couldn’t imagine ever laughing again.

Sabina Hendry’s mouth dropped open. She stared at him as her father went off in a paroxysm of splutters and coughs. Once her father’s labored breathing had subsided into gentle wheezing, she took a deep breath. “I am afraid that is quite impossible for I have vowed ne’er to be wed again, Sir Jeffree.”

“You have vowed?” he asked sharply, feeling winded by her words. “You have vowed?” His voice rose in anger. “I care nothing for your vows, madam,” he said. “I have lived my whole life under a sacred vow I made in my eighteenth year!” He struck his chest with his palm. “I have never deviated from that solemn vow by word or deed not once, since that day. Never has my devotion been brought into question or disrepute—not once until I met you! You have made an open mockery of the life I have lived and brought my reputation into outright ridicule!”

She was listening now, her eyes wide and alarmed. “Sir Jeffree—” she started resolutely. “I hardly know of what vow you speak—”

He cut her off impatiently. “My celibacy, of course, what else!” He paid no attention to the embarrassed coughs and uneasy shufflings of feet all around him, for he cared not a whit for what any of these people thought. “You have compromised me, madam, and I demand you take responsibility for the damage you have wrought on my reputation and my virtue,” he thundered. “And I demand you do it now, in front of these witnesses here present. I will accept no other compensation. Indeed, there is none other that would suffice.”

The color had now drained from Sabina Hendry’s face. She looked aghast. “Sir Jeffree, you cannot possibly mean for us to be joined as man and wife! Only consider—”