Page 94 of An Inconvenient Vow

“Hendry?” Jeffree echoed thoughtfully.

“That miscreant has naught to do with my son! I would take an oath on it!” Sir Charles exclaimed angrily.

“Has anyone made enquiry as to Hendry’s whereabouts, Charles?” Jeffree interjected swiftly.

“Of course not!” the older man spat. “Such a suggestion is an insult!”

“They were in league together were they not?” Sabina pointed out, her hackles truly up.

Jeffree shot her an exasperated look as Sir Charles shot to his feet. “Sabina.” Her husband’s murmured tone was reproachful. He too climbed to his feet before addressing the older man. “It is worth investigating, Charles,” he pointed out.

Sir Charles was practically vibrating with affront by this point. “That you could think such a thing, Jeffree!” he choked. “Could even entertain such a suggestion!”

“Charles—” Jeffree said, rising to his feet as the older man went rushing toward the door. He swung around to look at Sabina. “Could you not have employed even a modicum of tact?” he demanded in a low voice.

“Oh? As Sir Charles did to me, you mean? Should I have waited until he had left the room before I made my insinuations?” Jeffree’s gaze grew flinty. “I have no doubt that he did not hesitate to implicate my own family as soon as I left!”

Jeffree’s heightened color told her she had hit the mark, and he glowered at her a moment before stalking after Sir Charles.

Sabina sat fuming she knew not how long until she heard the sound of horse’s hooves outside. That was more than one horse, she thought, starting impulsively for the window. Surely, he had not gone again? She had been steeling herself for their inevitable row, one which would hopefully clear the air.

Instead, her disbelieving eyes saw both men disappearing down the lane together. She stood there, gazing out, a strangely numb feeling creeping over her. He had not even told her he was leaving. She rubbed her arms, feeling suddenly rather chilled.

“Shall I have the fire lit in here, milady?” Penny’s voice from the doorway made her start.

“Did your master send any word for me when he left?” Sabina could not help herself from asking.

“No, milady.” Penny sounded apologetic.

Well, thought Sabina, that was that. It was obvious where Jeffree’s loyalties lay. It was also obvious where her husband’s true home lay, Ganford Chase. Whatever amount of cast-off furniture he threw her way, that would remain his true home.

Now that she came to think of it, he had bidden her to direct where every stick of furniture in the house was to be laid. Perhaps he had not cared about the tapestries in the Great Chamber because he never intended to be sat there much. “I do not require a fire down here, Penny,” she heard herself say through numbed lips. “It has been a long day and I am rather tired. l believe I will retire early to bed.”

“Yes, milady. Will you be wanting the fire lit in the master chamber?”

“The back bedchamber, if you please,” Sabina corrected her, for she knew the cot she had used the night before had been set up in there. “That is the room I shall be taking for my own.”

19

Jeffree felt unaccountably irritable the next morn as he waited for his uncle to be ready to set forth for Morecotte. They had tarried long enough in his opinion. He had risen early and ridden over to Tipton Hall for an uncomfortable conversation with his father-in-law two hours before. Charles had wanted to accompany him, but Jeffree had put his foot down about that. “You will simply set their backs up, Charles, as you did my wife’s,” he had stated, and his godfather had retreated into affronted silence at that.

As soon as Jeffree crossed the threshold of Tipton Hall, he had known Sir Charles’s suspicions were unfounded. Thora and Wilfred Burrell were delighted he had “condescended to visit with them” and insisted on plying him with various refreshments and tidbits of local news they seemed to think he would appreciate.

As he sat there, being bombarded with roasted fish and “those thin, fried cheese crackers you enjoyed so much last time, Sir Jeffree,” he reflected that the only Burrell with backbone and spleen enough to exact a revenge plan was Sabina herself. And she had not had the opportunity.

“My daughter is well, I trust, Sir Jeffree?” Thora Burrell twittered and then accepted his stony-faced assertion that she was, entirely at face value.

Jeffree cleared his throat and brought himself to make mention Sabina’s short stay at his mother’s house. Her own mother was instantly wreathed in smiles at this show of generosity from his family, welcoming her into their open arms. Jeffree had stirred uncomfortably in his chair, but really, the woman could not do enough to put him at his ease. He had to remind himself that, unlike her daughter, she was happy to view his every move in a good light.

After they had broken their fast together, he had walked outside with Wilfred Burrell in the early morning sunshine. He was less voluble than his wife, but his open, honest gaze could not be feigned. When Jeffree made cautious allusion to preceding events or bad blood between their families, the older man had seemed keen to put all that had occurred behind them. “For what is done, is done,” his father-in-law opined. “Isemay no longer wishes to marry Bethencourt, it is true,” her father lamented, “but I do not think even her sternest critic could fault her for that.”

Which reminded Jeffree that he had not seen his sister-in-law that morn. “No,” Wilfred Burrell had replied easily. “She has taken to rising extremely early of late. The child takes these odd starts. We are indulging her for the moment until she has fully recovered from the… er”—the older man had averted his eyes—“all that unpleasant business.”

And with that Jeffree found he was content to let the matter lie. Their conversation turned to other things. Jeffree found himself suggesting they discuss the financial aid his uncle had pledged as part of Isemay’s marriage settlement. It did not take much for Burrell to pour out his monetary woes. Jeffree listened and made a few suggestions of his own. His father-in-law seemed more than happy to embrace them, and at the close of conversation, they exchanged a hearty handshake.

Which brought him back to current events, kicking his heels while his uncle delayed his own return to Morecotte. Would the tiresome old fool ne’er make ready? He had some doubt that his wife’s welcome would be anything more than sadly tepid after yesterday’s events. She was not one to mask her feelings in politeness. In truth, her tongue could hold a decided sting.

That brought back memories of yesterday’s tussle before Charles’s unwelcome interruption. He groaned faintly. Doubtless, she would still be seething about his espousal of his godfather’s cause. Of course, a reasonable woman would own he owed as much to his former guardian, but Sabina was not a reasonable woman. She was fiery and lion-hearted, and no doubt she would expect to haul him over hot coals for entertaining suspicions about her family’s possible involvement.