Yesterday's Promise (51 page)

Evy sucked in her breath. October 25! That was the night of the storm when Uncle Edmund's buggy overturned and he was found dead.

Evy stared down at the letter, a pang of anxiety in her heart. It was his last entry.

Had they met? Had they talked? What had Uncle Edmund said to Heyden? Had he convinced him there was no letter from Henry Chantry? Heyden had not come back to the rectory searching for any letter. There had been years of silence until last October when she had surprised him in the attic going through Uncle Edmund's desk. What had happened during the long interval to change Heyden's mind and convince him to return and search for a letter from Henry?

She looked at Rogan. He was grim. They exchanged letters. Henry wrote:

Evy stared at the letter. She swallowed back the emotion welling up in her heart. Had Henry loved Katie?

She looked at Rogan. He had finished Uncle Edmund's letter and was reading the short message that Heyden had written to Henry. Rogan's jaw flexed. He finished reading and handed it to her.

“This is what Heyden was looking for.”

There was silence. Evy drew in a breath. “He wrote this before discovering Dumaka had the diamond. Do you think Heyden murdered Henry?”

“Yes.”

She shivered. His terse voice reinforced her own convictions. She struggled to get the next words out. “And…Uncle Edmund?”

“Yes. When he grew older, he must have understood he had written his own arrest warrant.”

She trembled, and Rogan seemed to notice at once and drew her into his arms. “It's over, Evy. The past cannot be changed. But I'll find Heyden again. He won't get away with this.” Rogan sank into a chair, rubbed his head, and closed his eyes.

Evy went to him and put her arms around his neck. “I must get you back to Rookswood. Mr. Bixby should be here soon.”

His gaze held hers, and he smiled. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are? I've missed you more than you'll ever know. On many of those warm, starry nights in Africa, I dreamed about you, having you there with me, holding you, kissing you—”

She felt the heat filling her cheeks, and her eyes faltered. “There's something I should have told you at once, Rogan.”

His lashes narrowed thoughtfully, and a brow lifted. “Don't tell me you've fallen for the farmer's son, because I won't accept that, and your kiss denies it.” He cupped her chin.

She looked at him. “Yes, I do love you, but love isn't enough.”

“Look, darling, Derwent's been talking to me quite a bit recently, and don't forget I was raised in the church the same as you. Granted I'm not the saint that you are, or Derwent, but I confidently trust in Christ as my Savior.”

She laid a loving hand against his bruised temple. “I know that… now. But that isn't the problem, Rogan.” Tears came to her eyes, and she tried to stand quickly, nearly losing her balance.

He reached and steadied her, looking up at her. “What is it?”

She turned her head away. “I know who my father is… Your uncle—Henry Chantry!”

He stared at her for what seemed to Evy an eternity. His hand caught up hers, and he smiled as he brought it to his lips.

“Who told you that lie? Heyden?”

Lie? She continued to look down at him, her eyes searching his. “If it were just Heyden, I would have reason to doubt. But Lord Brewster also told me so.”

He dropped her hand and stood, his mouth grim. “Anthony told you Henry was your father?”

“Yes,” she admitted, aggrieved. “I came right out and asked him. After my hospital recovery, he arranged for me to stay with Mrs. Croft at Chantry Townhouse. I was there for a few months. He would come often and visit with me. Once I asked him, and he said that it was Henry. Oh, Rogan! How bitter life can be!”

“That's a ruddy lie, and if anyone knows it for sure, it's Lord Anthony Brewster—Lady Camilla, too.”

“What do you mean? Why, Lady Camilla—” She stopped abruptly and her breath caught.
Camilla and her tale of a secret child…
Evy continued to stare at Rogan.

“Evy, darling, I was told the same story. Julien clobbered me with it just before the pioneer expedition to the Zambezi. He told me Katie and Henry had been in love and were planning to run away with you to America. Well, it's not true. I've a letter I could show you, but I want to give someone a last chance to show that he has the courage expected of a man. But trust me, darling, we are not related by blood.”

She wanted to believe him. Her heart cried out that he was telling her the truth. A letter? From Lady Camilla?

“When I told you earlier,” Rogan went on, “that there were chains that bound me from contacting you, I was referring to the lie Julien told me about Henry. I believed him and felt the only thing to do was to make sure we never saw each other again.”

“But if Henry isn't my father, why would Sir Julien say this to you? And why would Heyden reinforce it?”

“Seems quite clear to me. The last thing Julien wanted to contend with was the effect our marriage would have on the family mine holdings. You know Julien. He arranges marriages to benefit the Company, but also to keep his hands on the reins. He knows we're both independent and won't tolerate his whip. And darling, Julien would have liked to keep you from ever inheriting Katie's wealth. As for Heyden, he probably understood Julien's wish to keep us apart, and thought that telling you I was a ruthless adventurer out to take advantage of you would make it easier for him to convince you to visit Jendaya.”

“Yes, I thought that, but I did believe Lord Brewster about who my father is.”

His jaw tightened. “Never mind Brewster for now, all right? We'll get all this cleared up shortly.” He turned toward the open window. “That's Bixby now. The sooner we can get up to Rookswood, the better. My head is killing me.”

Bixby came to the door and knocked. “Come in, Bix!” Rogan called.

Rogan turned to her, taking her shoulders and drawing her to him. “We still have much to talk about. Your health is most important. I want to talk to your London doctor myself so I can understand what's possible. But get one thing straight, sweetheart. Nothing is going to keep us apart. Not ever.”

Emotion overwhelmed her. She came into his arms. “Rogan, darling…”

He kissed her, his embrace tightening. Her mind swam giddily.

“Ahem,” Bixby discreetly cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, sir.”

Evy drew away from Rogan, and he smiled. “Hello, Bix, old boy. You're looking at the future Mrs. Rogan Chantry. Beautiful, isn't she?”

Bixby's dignified brows rose. “Quite so, Mr. Chantry. A very wise choice indeed.”

Evy was shown to one of the guest bedrooms, where she freshened her face and hands with a cloth dipped in cool lemon water, then was served tea and cakes. She was not surprised to see that Lizzie, Mrs. Croft's niece, had managed to relieve the kitchen maid and bring the tray upstairs herself. One look at the young woman's eyes, shining with shrewd excitement, told Evy the young woman had a “bit of story” to pass along.

“Thought you'd care to know that the Lady's upped and gone back to Heathfriar, Miss. She left last night.”

“Lady Patricia?”

“Indeed, she took every last one of her frocks and boxes of powder and rouge, she did. She was a mite upset too, I don't mind telling you, Miss. Like one of them hornet's nests my Jim has to clear outta the attic eaves every summer. She was riled, and she told Master Rogan a thing or two no respectable lady ought to repeat to another lady.” Lizzie touched her white dust cap. “I can tell you Lady Elosia was in a state of shock herself. Thought she'd faint there and then, dead away on the rose-patterned carpet. It was Master Rogan himself who found her smelling salts and fanned her with that black lace fan she carries in the summer. Then he carried Lady Elosia to the divan. ‘Now, Auntie,' he kept saying, ‘I've always told you I wouldn't marry a woman I didn't really want.'”

Lizzie chortled. “Oh, Miss, if it weren't all so upsetting, it woulda
been a cause for laughing. Him, so calm and determined, and Lady Elosia an emotional tizzy, and Lady Patricia throwing things at him from across the parlor. She had some letters that she just ripped up in front of him. She walks up and tosses them in his face. ‘Cad,' she called him, and ‘knave of hearts.' You know what those letters was, Miss?”

“I've no idea.” Evy sighed.
Poor Rogan
.

“It was letters he'd written you while in Capetown. She'd come to visit on and off at Rookswood ever since Master Rogan left, and she musta sneaked them out of the morning mail basket in the hall.”

Evy was at least thankful to learn that he had indeed written her during the long absence.

“Then Lady Patricia broke one of them glass cherubs that's been on the table for as far back as I can remember! That made Lady Elosia mad, it did. She sat up and shouted, ‘How dare you break my heirlooms!' And then Lady Patricia called her an old hen and stomped out, shouting for Annie—that's her private maid—to pack her things. They was going to Heathfriar then and there.”

Evy sank to a chair, palm to forehead. “Oh no, what a debacle. Oh, I'm so sorry it turned out badly. It sounds dreadful. There must have been some way for it to work out graciously.”

“Not with Lady Patricia, Miss, oh no, not her! A whirlwind of fury, that one. She even slapped Rogan. He remained the perfect gentleman and told her how sorry he was, but life would go on. That really made her mad, Miss.”

Evy groaned. She took no pleasure in Patricia's loss, but at the same time she thought the young woman was quite spoiled and immature to carry on like that. And Rogan hadn't mentioned a word of this to Evy at the cottage.

Lizzie grinned, her round cheeks flushed. She snapped her fingers. “Just like that it was, Miss. All this was said before the squire, too. He just threw up his hands and walked to his study with his books and closed the door. Lord Brewster seemed upset…and thoughtful. Then he left too. But not before Master Rogan talked with him alone, just the
two of 'em. I couldn't hear what those two said to each other,” Lizzie said, showing grave concern over not having listened to the whole thing.

Lizzie stopped to catch her breath and lay out the tea on the table. Evy could feel sorry for Patricia, but not extremely sorry.

“So Lady Patricia's gone, Miss.”

Evy drank her tea, relishing every bit of it. A knock came on her door. She braced herself for a cool reception by Lady Elosia, but when Lizzie opened the door, it was another of the maids, Hulda.

“His Lordship wishes to speak with you in the parlor, Miss Varley, just as soon as you have your tea.”