Page 88 of For Your Arms Only

"Mrs. Lucey?" Alec removed his hat and bowed.

"Yes." Her wary eyes darted between the two of them. She put one hand on her son's shoulder, drawing him even closer to her. Beyond her Alec could see the interior of the house, neat and clean but tiny. Her hands bore the calluses of hard work, and her clothing was faded and much mended. He felt again the sharp guilt that he hadn't been able to keep his promise to Will to take care of them, tempered only by the knowledge that the Luceys would never want for anything again.

"I am Alexander Hayes. May I present my wife, Mrs. Hayes, and Sir James Peterbury." James also doffed his hat and bowed. Cressida curtsied, murmuring a polite greeting. Mrs. Lucey returned it, her expression still reserved. "Peterbury and I were friends of your husband, Will," Alec said. "The three of us grew up together in Marston-on-Lea and served in the army together."

Something sparkled in her gaze, the memory of old joys. "He has been dead several years now," she said softly. "Since Waterloo."

"We know, and are very sorry for it," said James. "But we’ve brought you some news. Your son has inherited a legacy from his grandfather."

Her lips parted in shock. Her son crept closer to her side. "What's a legacy, sir?" he asked.

Alec smiled at him. "It can mean many things, young man, but in this case it means money." He looked at Isabella, still standing in mute amazement. "Ten thousand pounds."

"Blimey," exclaimed the boy. "Mama, we shall be rich!"

Alec grinned. The boy was just like Will. "Yes, indeed."

Later, after Isabella had recovered from her shock enough to invite them in, they talked about Will. Her son, named for his father, asked dozens of questions, and as James and Alec shared their memories, tears began to stream down Isabella's cheeks.

Cressida made tea, keeping out of the way. As they reminisced and laughed, she sensed a subtle easing of the last tension in her husband's shoulders. He needed this—he deserved this, she thought fiercely.

Alec had been fully exonerated. After their trip to London, the Duke of Wellington acknowledged the error and publicly denounced the rumors of treason. Suddenly it was as if no one had ever believed Alec guilty, or so it seemed from the number of people who came to call. Alec bore it all with a wry twist to his smile, and told her he almost preferred being a pariah.

Not a word of Will Lucey's actions was ever uttered. Will had been buried a hero, and Alec loved him too well to reveal the truth. He told only James Peterbury the whole truth. To his family he gave an edited version of the story, explaining the mistake with the letters but not who actually wrote them, a confession which sent Julia into a flood of tears before she flung herself into her brother's arms and begged his forgiveness for not believing in him all along.

For her part, Cressida told Callie only part of the truth about their father. She revealed that he had blackmailed old Mr. Lucey, but she never mentioned how it affected Alec. Callie would have been too horrified and guilt-stricken by that knowledge, and it was over in any event. Papa was dead. Cressida was content to bury his sins with him and let her family embrace their lives to come, instead of regret the life Papa had lived.

And now, today, they had solved the last part of the puzzle. Alec and James had engaged investigators to find Isabella Lucey months ago. They intended to provide a comfortable annuity for her and her child, until old Mr. Lucey sent them a terse note indicating his desire to settle five thousand pounds on his grandson. Perhaps it was the closest the old man would come to any apology for his actions. He’d left Marston soon after that dreadful day at his house, and no one had been sorry to see him go. Alec and James carried on with their plan to find Mrs. Lucey, and agreed they would contribute another five thousand pounds.

Cressida smiled as she watched Alec laugh at something James was relating, some prank the three of them had played as lads. Young William listened raptly, exclaiming in delight, and Alec tousled the boy's hair when he grew too excited. This was the last ghost to lay to rest, fulfilling his long-ago promise to a friend, and to see him do it with such compassion and decency made her heart almost burst with love for the man she had married.

Finally it was time to say their farewells. William hooted with delight when James Peterbury promised to call on them again soon, but fell silent as Alec motioned him over.

"This is for you," he told the boy. "Your father made it many years ago, and I’ve been keeping it for you."

William's eyes were as round as saucers as he took the carved wooden horse. "Did my papa really make it?"

"He did," Alec assured him. "Right before he met your mother."

Solemnly the child carried it to his mother. "It is an Andalusian horse," she told him with a smile. "They live near my home in Spain." She turned to Alec, her eyes glistening. "Thank you, sir. He never knew his father, but he will never forget this day."

As they all walked out into the late afternoon sunshine, a closed carriage started down the lane. Glossy and expensive, it rolled slowly past. The driver didn’t slow, but as it passed Mrs. Lucey's small cottage, the curtain fluttered open. A pale face appeared at the glass for a moment, and then the carriage was gone, continuing down the road out of town.

Cressida watched the carriage rumble away. It looked small and lonely against the wide, barren heath in front of it, as if it were driving into oblivion. "That was old Mr. Lucey, wasn't it?"

Alec nodded. "It was."

She looked up at her husband. "You let him see the boy."

"Just once. He deserves to see what he lost."

"Yes." She sighed.

He took her hand between his. “I’m sorry you noticed him," he began.

Cressida shook her head. "No. Don't be sorry. I could never face him again, but you were right to let him see his only grandson."

"He gave his word not to come near them again. As far as they know, he is dead. If he chooses to leave William any more funds at his death, the solicitors will deal with it and neither William nor his mother will ever know."

Cressida looked over at young William Lucey, pretending to gallop his carved horse over the front step. "I'm glad he relented," she said softly.

Alec took one look at the carriage, now tiny in the distance, and turned back to her. "I'm glad he's gone," he said bluntly. "I've more important people to deal with."

"Mrs. Lucey⁠—"

"Not Mrs. Lucey," he interrupted her. "Did I not tell you? Peterbury offered to provide any assistance she needs." He glanced at his friend, still deep in conversation with Mrs. Lucey. "He's taken to the duty, it seems."

Cressida recognized the gleam in his eye. "Then who?"

He tilted his head. "A woman without equal. Intelligent, sensible, daring, kindhearted, and beautiful beyond my dreams." Cressida blushed. “With the most seductive mouth I've ever seen," he murmured. "When she blushes and smiles at me, my heart all but bursts."

"What a woman," she said with a laugh. "You must tell me if you ever find her."

Alec leaned closer, until she could see every spark of love and happiness in his eyes. "I already have. And I'm never letting you go."