Page 11 of A Bride for the Baron

“Tell me what you need me to do,” he said again.

For you to tell me that everything will be all right, that this is only a nightmare. She could not say that. Instead, she struggled to smile and found it was not as difficult as she had expected when he regarded her with kindness.

She began, “I need you to—”

“Lord Meriweather!” came a shout from the hallway.

A ginger-hackled footman careened to a stop by the open door.

Vera recognized him but was not sure of his name. Heat slapped her face when his gaze focused on Lord Meriweather’s hands cupping hers. She hastily jerked her hands away, clasping them on her lap.

“Oh, my lord, I didn’t mean to intrude. That is...” The footman’s face became as ruddy as his hair.

Standing, Lord Meriweather said, “Carl, Miss Fenwick would like tea and something to eat brought here as soon as possible.”

The footman nodded but carefully did not look again at either her or the baron.

“What is your message?” Lord Meriweather asked.

“Sir Nigel’s carriage has come through the gate.” Carl’s voice was so low that Vera had to strain to hear it.

“Has Miss Kightly been informed?”

“I am on my way there now, my lord.” He rushed away.

Lord Meriweather turned to face Vera again. “If you will excuse me, Miss Fenwick. Perhaps we can finish our discussion later.”

“Whenever is convenient for you.” She was surprised that he acted as if the footman’s reaction to discovering them alone in Cat’s bedroom was nothing out of the ordinary. She decided to follow his lead and pretend that there soon would not be whispers belowstairs about the baron and the vicar’s sister holding hands. “Or we can finish it while we walk downstairs.”

“Don’t you want to stay here and rest?”

“Yes.” She sighed as she pushed herself to her feet. “But I want to thank Miss Kightly for being such a good companion on our way north from Norwich. She let me babble on about my hopes and fears for the parish church, and not once did she say what I’m sure was in her mind—that she was tired of hearing me say the same things over and over.”

“If you would like, I can convey that to her.”

“No. I should thank her myself.”

“As you wish.” He offered his arm.

She hesitated. Nothing would add to the gossip about him holding her hands more than being seen only minutes later with her hand on his arm.

He smiled coolly. “Miss Fenwick, surely you know from your long association with my cousins and this household that nothing we do or say can halt the wagging tongues of those who misconstrue my attempt to comfort you in the wake of the fire.”

“I understand that, but...” Again the warmth surged up her face.

“You are worrying needlessly. Exactly as you know the people here and the village well, they know you and will give no credence to any whispers of you acting like a featherbrain.”

Vera put her hand on his sleeve so she could avoid meeting his eyes. If he had any idea of how she had been extremely foolish before she and Gregory had found a haven in Sanctuary Bay, he would not be offering that assurance.

She was glad that Sir Nigel bustled into the entry hall as she and Lord Meriweather descended the stairs. Sir Nigel had snow-white hair and the wide stomach of a well-fed man. His greatcoat was spotted with rain. He ignored the footman waiting to take it as he looked up the stairs and scowled.

“Where is Lillian?” Sir Nigel demanded without the courtesy of a greeting.

Beside her, Lord Meriweather stiffened as they stepped into the entry hall, but his smile appeared genuine as he said, “She has been alerted of your arrival.”

“Didn’t she get the message I sent here for her? It told her what time I would be here.” The baronet puffed up like an affronted rooster.

“I got it,” Miss Kightly said as she came down the stairs, her steps light on each tread. Behind her, Carl carried her bags and kept his gaze focused on the floor. “Here I am, Uncle Nigel.”

Vera stepped aside as Miss Kightly walked past her to give her great-uncle a kiss on the cheek. The blonde stepped back, glanced toward Vera with what seemed to be a meaningful expression and then turned to Lord Meriweather. What message had Miss Kightly been trying to convey? Whatever it was, Vera could not decipher it.

“Oh, my dear girl,” Sir Nigel gushed. “When I heard you were riding back here from the wedding, I wanted to get you to my house right away. It may not be safe here in the wake of recent events.”

“Don’t be silly,” Miss Kightly said with a light tone that Vera had never heard her use before. She gazed up at Lord Meriweather with unadulterated admiration. “I am perfectly safe while in the company of one of England’s great heroes.”

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