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Authors: The Heiresss Homecoming
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goodbyes. Will didn’t think it was his imagination that she uttered a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her and her chaperone.
Perhaps she found it difficult to be the focus of Jamie’s attempts at courting. It was becoming increasingly clear to Will that any hope for a love match between her and Jamie lay entirely with his son. Lady Everard saw the lad for what he was—an untried colt with the potential to win races, but not today, and certainly not in the fortnight she planned to be in Evendale.
He didn’t relish watching Jamie figure out as much.
He supposed he could tell his son. He’d have to call on every ounce of the diplomatic skill he’d acquired in his nearly ten years of service. Convincing the Pasha of Egypt to free British sailors kidnapped by the very pirates he funded was child’s play next to telling Jamie he had to let Samantha Everard go.
“An amazing woman,” Will said to Jamie’s back as his son rushed to the window to watch the ladies climb into their waiting coach. “Who would have thought she fenced?”
Jamie glanced back at him and made a face. “And why would she think I still didn’t? I don’t need her to tutor me.”
Will rubbed his hands together. “You’ll show her as much on Monday, I know.”
Jamie nodded, but he stood at the window long after Will heard the Everard carriage depart.
The matter of Samantha Everard remained on Will’s mind the rest of the day, but he could find no easy way to speak to his son about her. He could only hope Sunday might be a day of rest for him and Jamie. Sundays were generally reserved for worship and family in the Evendale valley.
Will had participated in cathedral services, where voices echoed off stone arches that seemed as massive as one of the fells. He’d prayed in a tiny cave while a desert sandstorm howled at the entrance and grit closed his throat. Until he had returned to Kendrick Hall, he had almost forgotten the peace to be had in the little stone chapel at the edge of their estate.
His great-great-great-great-grandfather had ordered the hewing of the reddish stones that made up the walls. His great-great-great-uncle had replaced the previous dark pews with ones of polished oak. His great-great-grandmother had endowed the stained-glass windows that cast jeweled reflections on the worshiping congregation. His contribution for the moment consisted of a stone monument in the churchyard, where Peg had been laid to rest seventeen years ago this week.
No, that was unfair of him. He’d been involved in the parish since the day he’d returned. One of his first duties on becoming earl had been to install a new vicar when the previous man had left for a well-earned retirement. Mr. Pratt was a small man with a bare pate and trembling hands. Unfortunately even after several years in leadership, he consulted Will before making any decision.
Today Will and Jamie had already taken their seats in the Kendrick pew near the front of the church when a murmur ran through the waiting congregation. Samantha, Lady Everard, was making her way up the center aisle, a green velvet spencer over her gray lustring gown, peacock feathers waving from her velvet cap. She smiled at everyone and took her place beside Mrs. Dallsten Walcott in the Dallsten pew directly in front of Will. The scent of roses drifted over him.
It seemed a little peace was too much to ask.
As services began, Will wasn’t surprised to find Jamie fidgeting. They had all heard the words many times before, though Will usually found something new to intrigue him.
But it didn’t appear to be familiarity that bored his son. Jamie kept leaning forward, tilting his head, and Will was sure it wasn’t to better hear the sermon that followed the readings. No, Jamie was trying to catch a glimpse of Samantha Everard’s face, perhaps meet her gaze. To his sorrow Will had done the same thing when he’d been Jamie’s age—using any excuse to turn and look at Peggy several rows
Perhaps she found it difficult to be the focus of Jamie’s attempts at courting. It was becoming increasingly clear to Will that any hope for a love match between her and Jamie lay entirely with his son. Lady Everard saw the lad for what he was—an untried colt with the potential to win races, but not today, and certainly not in the fortnight she planned to be in Evendale.
He didn’t relish watching Jamie figure out as much.
He supposed he could tell his son. He’d have to call on every ounce of the diplomatic skill he’d acquired in his nearly ten years of service. Convincing the Pasha of Egypt to free British sailors kidnapped by the very pirates he funded was child’s play next to telling Jamie he had to let Samantha Everard go.
“An amazing woman,” Will said to Jamie’s back as his son rushed to the window to watch the ladies climb into their waiting coach. “Who would have thought she fenced?”
Jamie glanced back at him and made a face. “And why would she think I still didn’t? I don’t need her to tutor me.”
Will rubbed his hands together. “You’ll show her as much on Monday, I know.”
Jamie nodded, but he stood at the window long after Will heard the Everard carriage depart.
The matter of Samantha Everard remained on Will’s mind the rest of the day, but he could find no easy way to speak to his son about her. He could only hope Sunday might be a day of rest for him and Jamie. Sundays were generally reserved for worship and family in the Evendale valley.
Will had participated in cathedral services, where voices echoed off stone arches that seemed as massive as one of the fells. He’d prayed in a tiny cave while a desert sandstorm howled at the entrance and grit closed his throat. Until he had returned to Kendrick Hall, he had almost forgotten the peace to be had in the little stone chapel at the edge of their estate.
His great-great-great-great-grandfather had ordered the hewing of the reddish stones that made up the walls. His great-great-great-uncle had replaced the previous dark pews with ones of polished oak. His great-great-grandmother had endowed the stained-glass windows that cast jeweled reflections on the worshiping congregation. His contribution for the moment consisted of a stone monument in the churchyard, where Peg had been laid to rest seventeen years ago this week.
No, that was unfair of him. He’d been involved in the parish since the day he’d returned. One of his first duties on becoming earl had been to install a new vicar when the previous man had left for a well-earned retirement. Mr. Pratt was a small man with a bare pate and trembling hands. Unfortunately even after several years in leadership, he consulted Will before making any decision.
Today Will and Jamie had already taken their seats in the Kendrick pew near the front of the church when a murmur ran through the waiting congregation. Samantha, Lady Everard, was making her way up the center aisle, a green velvet spencer over her gray lustring gown, peacock feathers waving from her velvet cap. She smiled at everyone and took her place beside Mrs. Dallsten Walcott in the Dallsten pew directly in front of Will. The scent of roses drifted over him.
It seemed a little peace was too much to ask.
As services began, Will wasn’t surprised to find Jamie fidgeting. They had all heard the words many times before, though Will usually found something new to intrigue him.
But it didn’t appear to be familiarity that bored his son. Jamie kept leaning forward, tilting his head, and Will was sure it wasn’t to better hear the sermon that followed the readings. No, Jamie was trying to catch a glimpse of Samantha Everard’s face, perhaps meet her gaze. To his sorrow Will had done the same thing when he’d been Jamie’s age—using any excuse to turn and look at Peggy several rows
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