Page 7 of A Meddlesome Match (The Vaughns #3)

With a start, Sadie stared at him. “She did? With whom?”

Turning a painful gaze to her, Howard huffed. “In her letter, she said she had thought she was happy enough to marry me, but when it came time, she ‘couldn’t bear it.’ Ran off to Scotland with her true love instead.”

Howard’s eyes turned upward again, boring into the plaster above them, and he huffed. “And isn’t that the salt in the wound? Bad enough she abandoned me at the altar in front of our friends and family because she couldn’t stand the thought of being my wife, but the love of her life is some journeyman. A mason, apparently. Some bloke without a home and hardly a farthing to his name.”

He swallowed, his voice wobbling as he added in the barest breath of a whisper, “Yet he is the man she loves.”

“Do not take her actions to heart,”

said Sadie, leaning closer and shaking her head. “That she allowed your engagement to progress to that moment—all while knowing herself to be in love with another—speaks poorly of her, not you. She ought not to have accepted your proposal if she were so conflicted, and certainly, she ought not to have rejected you in such a public fashion. How selfish of her!”

Reaching over, Howard snatched her free hand in his, entwining their fingers with a faint smile. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Certainly!”

she said with a sharp nod. “At the very least she ought to have spoken to you directly, rather than leaving a note. And even if she did so because she was afraid her family would discover her plans, she could’ve written to you privately—before the ceremony was set to begin. And not have it delivered in front of the entire wedding party.”

Shaking her head, Sadie considered the full breadth of Miss Murray’s behavior. “It is one thing to break an unwanted engagement—such things happen, after all—but the manner in which she did so was entirely selfish. To wait until the last moment and send a note? And when news spreads of her elopement—which it will, eventually—her family will be made to bear the brunt of that scandal as well. Her actions are the very definition of selfishness.”

Howard’s thumb caressed her hand, sending a frisson skittering up her arm. “You always know how to lighten my spirits.”

Forcing her throat to work, Sadie swallowed and managed, “That is a friend’s primary duty.”

But his smile faded, his brows drawing tight together as he studied her. “I am sorry for what happened at the wedding.”

“It wasn’t your doing.”

“No,”

he said with a huff. “But I should’ve stopped my mother the moment she started speaking.”

“Do you think it would’ve done any good?”

asked Sadie with an arched brow and a hint of a laugh.

Howard chuckled. “I’ve heard men claim that women are docile and demure, but we all know that Father is the head of this household only when Mother deigns to allow it.”

Smiling at that, Sadie fixed her gaze on their joined hands, wishing he understood the significance of that small gesture. Even her brothers weren’t so tender, yet such affection was commonplace between them. Surely that meant something more than friendship.

He straightened and sighed once more. “I fear we must suffer through Mother’s machinations until I am well and truly wed. She refuses to surrender the idea that we ought to be together.”

Turning a scoffing smile toward her, Howard laughed. “Can you imagine that?”

Brows rising, Sadie stared at him. “Why is that amusing?”

With a placating hand, Howard warded off the question. “Peace, Sadie. I mean no disrespect, but you must admit my mother’s designs for us are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?”

“Do not be offended,”

he said with a coaxing tone. “Surely you see the humor in it. Even if we were to ignore the difference in our ages—though I don’t know of any gentleman who would choose an older bride—you tower over me. What man would wish for such a thing?”

Turning, she straightened in her seat and stared at the wall opposite as he babbled on about the absurdity of such a thing, laughing as though it was naught but a good joke. And all the while, the incredulity in his tone and the sneer on his lips cut like a blade.

Howard reached for her hand once more, but she pulled free.

“Come now. Don’t be peevish. Mother may have grand designs for us, but we’ve never had any such inklings, so there’s no point in being offended by a plain-spoken truth.”

“Not everyone measures the suitability of a spouse in such a superficial manner.”

Sadie clamped her mouth shut, and a burst of heat swept through her as she realized just how close she was to revealing her heart to someone who did not prize it. His voice, brimming with laughter, echoed from her memory as he chortled at the thought of being her sweetheart, and that sank deep into her heart, burying itself into every soft corner.

Sadie rose to her feet, and Howard protested, but she ignored him. With a curt bob, she took her leave and hurried out of the parlor.

“Miss Vaughn?”

called Mrs. Gibson, which only spurred Sadie to move faster as she snatched up her things from the footman and fled the house.

*

“What did you say to her?”

demanded Dora as she swept into the parlor to find her son splayed across the sofa. “And where is your frock coat, young man? Do you regularly sit about in your shirtsleeves in front of Miss Vaughn?”

But Howard waved away the horror of that question. “She is a chum, so what does it matter?”

Straightening, he gave his mother a stern look that would’ve been more effective if he hadn’t learned it from the lady herself. “And why do you assume I said something to offend her?”

“Because she just fled like her very life depended on it—”

Howard shrugged. “Sadie is an odd creature.”

Dora stood with her hands on her hips for a long moment as she stared at her son, but no amount of cold judgment made him shift in the slightest. The fool truly didn’t see the trouble afoot. Men! They claimed to be lord and master of all they surveyed, but not a single one of them would survive if not for the interference of women.

For goodness’ sake, Gerald would still be a luckless bachelor if not for Dora’s gentle nudges toward the altar. Instead, they’d been joyfully married for forty-three years with six beautiful children, five of whom were happily situated with growing families of their own.

Letting out a sharp huff, she shook her head and turned away from that dunce. Dora strode down the hall and up the stairs to her sitting room, which overlooked the front drive, and she watched as Miss Vaughn disappeared into the distance with all haste. One way or another, Howard Gibson was going to see that he couldn’t wish for a better wife. Dora was certain of it.

***

The land rippled out from the edge of Danthorpe in gentle waves with only the hawthorn hedges and dry-stone walls interrupting the verdant expanse. The air felt lighter here, brightened by the faint scent of plowed earth and wildflowers. Though the far-off chime of a church bell testified that the village stood just over the clime, the sounds of nature surrounded Walter with rustling grasses, bleating sheep, and trilling birdsong filling his ears.

The future home of Reed College sat amongst this wilderness, affording its pupils greenery and forest to explore rather than the vices found in town. No doubt the residents of Danthorpe would laugh at that concern, as the sleepy village didn’t boast the sort of enticements found in London, Liverpool, or Leeds, but pockets of vice were found in the dark corners of any settlement.

Boys boasted a knack for trouble. Walter thought it stemmed from a combination of unending curiosity paired with an utter lack of self-preservation (both of which worsened with boredom), and such impulses quickly led to the strangest schemes. Such as fashioning a catapult with naught but an obliging birch, a boulder, and a bit of elbow grease—only to discover that it does a better job of launching their cohorts than the stone.

That energy, if neglected, led to poor choices. But if nurtured, it proved the making of many a successful man. It was far better to get in harmless scrapes out of doors or even suffer a doctor’s visit (when such adventures inevitably grew reckless) than lose the lads to gambling or drink. Besides, more children were crushed beneath carriage wheels than lost to tree climbing.

And watching the Semper boys explore the grounds proved just how well the environment nourished young minds—even if the building required a fair bit of work to bring it up to snuff.

The old house stood at the end of a gravel drive with piles of bricks and boards littering the garden as the workers moved in and out of the building. The restoration work had necessitated clearing the ivy that had clung to the lower edges of the gray stone fa?ade, but Walter’s imagination conjured the greenery that would return when construction was finished. Tall, narrow windows punctuated the exterior, and though the panes had yet to be replaced by the glazier, the clouded glass still gleamed in the light, giving the building a muted sparkle.

Despite appearing much the same as it had when he’d purchased it, possibility clung to the very mortar. It was as though the very heart of the building pulsed with new life. A new purpose.

“Careful, Master Orson,”

he called, though the lad continued to climb the pile of rubble that had been deposited on the edge of the property. Hands on his hips, Walter gave the child a stern look and repeated his warning, which held enough sharpness that Orson deigned to acknowledge him.

“Do you boys want to see inside?”

asked Walter.

Humphrey charged for the door, and his tutor called to him, drawing him up short. Going to the steps, Walter faced the boy and waited as all three lined up together.

“Remember—” he began.

“Do not touch unless we are told we can,”

said Rolland.

Walter nodded, and the eldest puffed out his chest as his tutor asked, “And why is that?”

Humphrey glanced at his elder brother and added, “Because we could get hurt.”

The youngest groaned as though such a thing were of no importance and ought not to be remarked upon.

“And?”

prompted Walter.

“And we shan’t be allowed back,”

said Orson, his lisp twisting the consonants ever so slightly, and his shoulders fell as though that were the worst punishment a seven-year-old could bear.

“These men are professionals and are here to do a job, and they will not thank you if you impede or ruin their work.”

Walter held up a finger and added, “However, I have no doubt that they would enjoy demonstrating their trade if you ask nicely, but if they say no…”

He waited as they recited in unison, “Then we shan’t bother them.”

“Good job, lads,”

he said, nodding to the front door. “Now, have at it.”

And with that, the three rushed the stairs and swarmed the house. As much as Walter longed to call out more warnings, anyone who worked with children knew there was a limit to how much one could expect, and it was better to pick one’s battles. Ears attuned to their every move, Walter followed them into the building.