A Warriner To Rescue Her. Virginia Heath

the ranking man of the house, his brother stepped forward with his hand outstretched in welcome. The Reverend curled his lip in what appeared to be disgust and limply returned the handshake as if Jack’s hand was somehow offensive. As a greeting, it was definitely not particularly friendly and Jamie felt his hackles rise at the insult.

      ‘We are honoured to meet you, Reverend Reeves. Miss Reeves.’

      Jamie’s eyes never left her as his brother spoke and her expression became more wretched by the second, yet she refused to meet his gaze and stared dejectedly at the handkerchief she was worrying in her fingers.

      ‘Allow me to introduce my daughter Cassandra.’ She stepped forward, looking completely dejected. ‘Stand straight, girl! Stop slouching.’

      The vicar’s voice was clipped and cold and his daughter withered beneath his steely glare. Instantly, for that alone, Jamie decided he hated the man. The sort of man who would openly chastise his daughter in front of apparent strangers was not the sort he was inclined to think charitably towards. The Reverend Reeves was a bully, like his own father had been, and like all bullies needed standing up to. He bit back the urge to give the man a set down on her behalf, fearing it would only make this increasingly awkward situation much worse and might enlighten the imperious vicar of their prior acquaintance. Definitely not what she needed.

      To her credit, Letty never faltered. His sister-in-law stepped forward and smiled benevolently. ‘My dear Miss Reeves, I am so glad you have come to visit us here at Markham Manor. You and your father are most welcome. May I introduce you both to my husband, the Earl of Markham, and his brother, Captain James Warriner?’

      Jamie stepped forward and received his own version of the vicar’s limp handshake and bowed politely to the woman who had dominated his thoughts for the last few days.

      ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Reeves.’ She smiled somewhat nervously and blushed bright pink as soon as her eyes guiltily flicked to his.

      ‘How do you do, Captain Warriner. Your lordship.’ Then she stepped back behind her father and stared back at her crumpled handkerchief as if her life depended on it.

      It was all very peculiar, yet for reasons unexplained they were pretending to be complete strangers. It was obvious she was frightened of her father. Jamie knew how that felt. His own sire had been a nasty piece of work by and large, and one not averse to using his fists when the mood struck him, usually after dark when it was least expected. He had wielded the element of surprise perfectly. And the old Earl had not been particular about his choice of victim. His sons, his wife, servants, complete strangers. Was the reverend also a man like that? The prospect was as unsettling as it was galling. Surely a man of God would abhor the use of violence? But then again, already this man had openly criticised his daughter in front of strangers, so perhaps he was capable of worse and Miss Reeves appeared cowed in the man’s presence. It all looked far too familiar for Jamie’s liking.

      Letty ordered refreshments and invited the vicar and his lying daughter to sit, and did the very best impression of a woman making polite small talk he had ever seen. Throughout the arduous pouring and serving of the tea, the reverend wore a mask of haughty superiority and barely said a word. His daughter said nothing, seemly content to watch her fingers tightly twist her handkerchief into a tangled ball, her lovely brown eyes limpid.

      Jamie had just brought his cup to his lips when the good reverend cleared his throat and began to speak in an overly loud voice to no one in particular.

      ‘“The Lord knoweth how to deliver the Godly out of temptations, and to reserve the unjust unto the day of Judgement to be punished.”’ The vicar paused for effect and stared directly at his elder brother. ‘A stark warning from the gospels which is pertinent for this family, I believe.’

      He watched Jack’s dark eyebrows come together in confusion while he tried to come up with a suitable response to what was undoubtedly meant as the most grievous of insults. As usual, his brother resorted to diplomacy, although those who knew him well heard the steel embedded in his words.

      ‘Perhaps the Warriner family of old, sir, but I trust you are not suggesting those of us who stand before you today are the unjust?’

      Jamie felt his own eyes narrow and would have intervened if he had not seen Miss Reeves stare at him, her sorrowful expression completely wretched. He held his tongue reluctantly.

      The vicar was unrepentant and glared back at his brother as bold as brass. ‘The whole of Nottinghamshire is rife with stories about the Warriner family. Cheats, liars, debauchers—fornicators! But fear not!’ One bony finger pointed heavenward. ‘It is not too late to save your miserable souls.’

      Had the man come here to preach at them? How dare he? Jamie had had quite enough. ‘If your intent was to come here and grossly insult my brother and his wife, Reverend, you have succeeded...’

      His brother stayed him with a placating hand and a warning glance. ‘Reverend Reeves, it is true the Warriners of old were a thoroughly bad lot—and I include my own father in that generalisation—however, I can assure you that his sons have chosen to tread a very different path.’

      The bony finger pointed directly at Jack in accusation and wiggled menacingly an inch away from his brother’s chest. ‘“Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men.”’ Almost as an afterthought he added, ‘Proverbs,’ in case they had the urge to look it up in the Bible to check the validity of his unwarranted sermon.

      Miss Reeves, Jamie noticed, had now completely covered her face with her hands and was bent over in the chair, almost as if she were trying to become part of the upholstery. It was obvious she wanted no part in her father’s zealous tirade, but felt powerless to stop it. Jack tried to reason with the vicar again. Clearly he had far more patience than Jamie gave him credit for as he’d have sent the man packing smartly. His fingers itched to grab the man by the lapels, toss him on the newly gravelled drive and to hear the satisfying thud as he slammed the door on him. But he and his elder brother were vastly different in character, therefore, Jack still persisted. ‘As I have just said, Reverend, my brothers and I have chosen a different path to our ancestors and I can assure you none of us are cheats, liars, debauchers or—’

      ‘“Behold, the day of the Lord cometh, cruel both with wrath and fierce anger, to lay the land desolate. And he shall destroy the sinners thereof out of it.”’ The vicar’s eyes were wide and he was practically quaking with righteous indignation. ‘Isaiah!’ His finger jabbed Jack’s ribs for emphasis and Jamie saw his brother’s expression harden although he still did not pull the obnoxious preacher up. ‘Repent, Mr Warriner! Before it is too late and your souls are banished to the fiery torment of hell!’

      ‘Oh, this is beyond the pale!’ Jamie briskly limped towards the vicar, snatched the teacup out of his hand and clattered it noisily on the table. ‘My brother is an earl, Reverend Reeves, not a mister, therefore when you next address him it had damn well better have the words my lord at the end of it, else you will have me to answer to. And, whilst we are quoting the Bible, he who is without sin, let him cast the first stone!’ He grabbed the vicar by the elbow and unceremoniously hauled him towards the door. ‘John! Chapter Eight, Verse Seven, I believe. Now, good day to you, Reverend Reeves! Take your unsolicited sermons elsewhere.’

      ‘Do you refuse to hear the word of God, sir?’

      ‘I refuse to listen to a sanctimonious, judgemental, self-righteous diatribe from a man who is little more than a gossipmonger.’

      ‘Gossipmonger!’ This, apparently, was the highest of insults as the vicar began to turn alarmingly purple. ‘I have it on the highest authority that—’

      ‘Highest authority? Whose?’

      The vicar’s mouth opened to speak, then closed again, giving Jamie his answer.

      ‘I see. Hearsay? Gossip? History? Surely that is not what the Bible condones, Reverend?’ Jamie continued to walk the man to the door where Chivers stood waiting, still holding his elbow firmly.

      ‘Jamie.’