Page 35 of Love Thy Enemy (The Vaughns #4)

“W e’ve wanted to speak with you about it for some time,” added Father, “but you are a grown man, and we haven’t wanted to stick our noses where they don’t belong.”

“You are my parents,” said Gregory, frowning. “Your noses belong wherever they wish to be.”

“No, they do not,” said Mother with a shake of her head.

“A parent’s role is to teach and guide you through childhood, and then step into the background—supporting when needed—as you venture into adulthood.

We are doing you no kindness if we continue to treat you like you are a child under our care. ”

Father waved away his son’s concerns with a flick of his hand. “Regardless, we have long suspected that you wanted to leave Thornsby but that you feel like you must stay for our sake.”

Though the gentleman couldn’t punctuate that with a knowing gaze that bore right into Gregory’s heart, Mother managed it well enough for the both of them, her eyes demanding answers.

“I know you are struggling of late,” said Gregory with a sigh. “Father’s blindness has been difficult on you both, and as the eldest, it is my role to step in and aid the family however I can. I cannot do so in Leeds.”

“Oh, dearest,” said Mother, giving him a sad smile. “Firstly, it is no one person’s responsibility to manage the entire family. You are all helping in your own manner, and you needn’t sacrifice your future for our sake. Because secondly, these struggles are ours to bear. Not yours. We will manage.”

Reaching over, she wrapped her hands around Father’s, looking into his face. “Yes, it has been difficult for us to adjust to this change, but life is full of trying moments. Your father and I have weathered them before, and we will do so again. Together.”

A tender smile softened the gentleman’s expression as he held fast to his wife. “And in truth, I do have my moments where I am frustrated or downcast, but in general, I am hopeful. I am still strong. Still contributing. This new life is an adjustment, but it continues on.”

As both turned their attention to him, the two looked like a matching set. Pieces that fit together perfectly. The sort of pairing that Gregory had always dreamed of finding. One that strengthened both, blessing each.

“So, Gregory dear,” said Mother, a challenge in her tone. “The one question that you need to sort out is, what do you wish to do? If there were no ‘hurdles’ or barriers to your desires, what path would you choose?”

“Court Mrs. Stuart, and settle in Leeds.” Gregory didn’t need to consider his answer, for his thoughts had mulled over that question for some time now.

“Then do it,” said Father, smiling. “Or try, at the very least.”

“Just uproot the children and move them to another city when so much of their lives has already been upended?” he said, shoulders slumping.

“Children are far more adaptable than we give them credit for,” said Mother.

“And, speaking as someone who once uprooted my whole life for the chance of something better, I can tell you that remaining in the same place may be the safe choice, but it is rarely the wise one. It is far too easy to be trapped in the past, and I think the children may benefit from a change.”

“I never thought I would have to say this to you, Gregory, but it seems I must,” said Father with a hint of a laugh in his tone. “It is time to be bold, son.”

***

The garden hummed with life. Chatter carried on the air like birdsong, blending with the clink of china and rustle of skirts as the family wandered between blankets and chairs.

A breeze stirred the canopy overhead, tugging at its corners, but the rain that had threatened to make an appearance had yet to arrive.

Laughter rang out, small feet pounded against the turf, and the occasional shriek of playful outrage rose from the younger children as they tumbled in and out of games.

Tessa sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, nodding along to Joanna’s musings, but her gaze strayed to the children darting across the lawn without care or caution.

It was chaos, certainly, but it was a domestic sort of chaos. Familiar. Inviting. The sounds, the scents, and the cheerful disorder washed over Tessa like a balm. This was not a moment she would have dared hope for weeks ago, and yet here she was, tucked into a chair as though she belonged.

And perhaps, for now, she did.

Her gaze drifted toward the front gate; from her current position, Tessa could see if someone were to open it, whilst still being free to maintain a conversation with her newfound friends.

She was not spying for Mr. Vaughn. That would be foolish.

No, it was simply wise for someone to keep watch, lest one of the little ones slip away.

But as Tessa’s gaze swept over the gathering, she was struck by another realization.

“Have you seen Daphne?” she asked, turning to Joanna.

With a frown, the lady straightened and cast her gaze this way and that, but it was her daughter who answered.

“She went to greet her fellow,” said Shirley, pointing a jam-covered hand down the lane.

“Her fellow?” Tessa lurched up from her seat and strode across the lawn. It couldn’t be. She had been watching the gate and would’ve noticed Daphne sneaking away. But it wasn’t as though she could see the entrance that well, and if someone had opened it only partly to slip through—

No.

Waving for Joanna to remain, Tessa hurried through the gate and gazed this way and that, though there was no sign of the young lady. Turning toward the section of road that did not cross in front of the gathering (which she most certainly would’ve seen), Tessa sped down the lane.

Tucked up beside a cottage two houses down, Daphne was just out of sight of the passersby, though not her mother’s scouring glance.

And she wasn’t alone. Mr. Spooner’s arms were locked around her, and that bounder had his hands all over her daughter, drifting into places he had no right to touch as his lips devoured hers—and Daphne matched his passion, meeting each with eager noises as she pressed deeper into him.

“What do you think you are doing?” Had Tessa been in her right mind, she would’ve spoken quietly, but her voice snapped like the crack of a pistol, ringing out for anyone in the streets to hear.

Stiffening, Tessa threw a startled look over her shoulder, but there was no one about on this quiet Sunday afternoon.

Hurrying forward, she grabbed Daphne, but the girl pulled out of reach and draped herself over that bounder’s chest.

“Leave me alone,” said Daphne, clinging to him as though he were the very source of life itself. “This is none of your concern.”

Mr. Spooner rubbed the girl’s back, and triumph glinted in his gaze as he glanced out at the street. Then, raising his head and his voice, he drew in a breath.

“I—”

Tessa lunged forward, her hand swinging with all her strength. It cracked against his cheek with such force that her palm stung, and his mouth snapped closed before he could draw attention to them.

“How dare you!” cried Daphne, and Tessa pressed a hand over her mouth, latching the other around her daughter’s arm and pulling her away from the bounder.

“Keep your voice down,” said Tessa in a low hiss.

“I do not care who sees us.” Though Daphne did not match her mother’s volume, she at least had the good sense not to raise it again, either.

Mr. Spooner moved, but Tessa leveled a hard look at him, promising him far more pain should he dare take another step, and he must have sensed just how eager she was to inflict it, for he held up his hands in placation.

Not that it mattered, as Daphne was spouting nonsense that proved he had his hooks in her far deeper than Tessa had realized.

“I love him!”

For all that she had warned Mr. Vaughn about drawing hard lines with Daphne’s actions, no amount of wisdom could overcome the panic surging through Tessa.

Had anyone witnessed that embrace, Daphne would be ruined.

Mr. Vaughn didn’t seem the type to force her into such a terrible marriage, but her daughter’s life would be forever altered regardless.

Indelibly marred by a poor choice when she was but seventeen.

To say nothing of how far such behavior might’ve gone had Tessa not interrupted—and how many other lives might’ve been trampled under Mr. Spooner’s heel. So many fears and concerns flooded through her, and Tessa grasped for anything to say or do to pull her daughter from this path.

“You hardly know the man, Daphne. And even if he was your one true love and this was everything you had wished for, you do not allow anyone— anyone —to treat you with so little regard. To paw you in public as though you are unworthy of being treated with respect and dignity.”

Turning her burning gaze on Mr. Spooner, Tessa scowled. “Have you no shame?”

Daphne sneered. “That is rich. You have no right to chastise me for my behavior. Not when yours destroyed our family!”

“Do not speak to your mother like that.”

Mr. Vaughn’s voice cut through the afternoon air just as he came around the corner, his eyes darting over the trio, taking in the whole of it in one heartbeat.

With his gaze narrowing on Mr. Spooner, Mr. Vaughn’s entire demeanor shifted.

It was as though his features were chiseled from granite, and his eyes were flaming coals as he stared down the cad.

“I will pay a call on you later today, Mr. Spooner,” said Mr. Vaughn, his voice slicing through the air with deadly finality.

And for the first time since stepping into this mess, the blackguard appeared properly cowed. Blanching, his arms fell away from Daphne as his mouth opened to say something, but Mr. Vaughn’s expression darkened, and Mr. Spooner stepped away without another word.

Daphne watched his retreat, wide-eyed and gaping, and the moment he was out of sight, she rounded on her mother, her hands clenched and shaking as she glared at the lady.

“You have no right to interfere with my life!” Daphne’s fury burned bright, and Tessa’s heart sank at the sight of yet another of their children who had been cursed with the Stuart temper.

Nodding toward the lane, Mr. Vaughn said, “Return to my brother’s house, and wait there for me, Daphne.”

As bright as her anger had burned, the firmness in his tone snuffed it out, and her complexion paled almost as much as Mr. Spooner’s had.

Lowering her eyes to the ground, Daphne nodded and turned away, but she lifted her gaze just enough to meet Tessa’s, flashing once more with fury before she hurried to obey.

“But Mr. Spooner might be waiting for her,” said Tessa, motioning toward the lane, her feet desperate to follow after. “We have to speak to her. Make her understand—”

“Believe me when I say that Mr. Spooner is already locked in his home, hiding under his bed,” replied Mr. Vaughn. “And before we do anything else, we need to calm ourselves.”

Tessa scowled at him, knowing full well that there was no “we” in that, for he looked plenty calm and relaxed as he stood there, his arms folded.

“You didn’t see what I saw!” she said, pointing at the place in which Daphne and Mr. Spooner had been embracing. “Had I not come along when I did, she might’ve given him everything right there and then!”

Panic clawed its way up Tessa’s throat, tightening with every breath until it felt as though air refused to enter her lungs.

She wrapped her arms around herself, fingers gripping her elbows so tightly she half expected bruises to bloom, but the image of Daphne in that man’s arms replayed over and over, a cruel loop that refused to release her.

What had Daphne been thinking? Tessa didn’t know—she couldn’t know—because the girl barely looked at her, let alone spoke to her.

And if she hadn’t come along when she had?

The thought was too much to bear. Even if the indiscretion had remained secret, with no outward sign to harm Daphne’s standing, giving herself in such a fashion to such a man would leave a mark on the poor girl.

A bruise upon her heart and soul. The act of a desperate, unhappy person, seeking validation from someone who could never love her.

Taking such a step was setting her on a dangerous path, and Tessa’s pounding heart drowned out the world around her as her mind spun with all the worst-case outcomes she could not prevent. She was losing her again. No—she had already lost her.

What power did she have? What claim? Daphne wouldn’t listen. None of them would.

“Breathe, Mrs. Stuart,” said the gentleman, settling his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them as though soothing a fractious child.

And though the comparison was unflattering, Tessa clung to his touch all the same. Forcing air into her lungs as Mr. Vaughn continued to caress her arms and speak in that calm manner of his, Tessa felt her pulse slow and reason settle back into place.