Thora, hearing the study door open abruptly, stopped, and her eyes narrowed at the sight of Marquis Brightington and Viscount Simon-North.
Seeing Thora, Simon-North gibed at Brightington. “So you failed. I’m still ahead of the game.”
Hearing his words, she turned to Lord Flemington. “My Lord, there is a small service I would ask you to perform for me.”
“Anything, Lady Thora,” Lord Flemington replied.
Thora whispered into his ear.
The shocked look on Flemington’s face had Garren wondering what she had asked him to do.
Recovering, Lord Flemington gave her a nod, uttering, “Only too willing to oblige, Lady Thora.”
As Viscount Simon-North strode past, Lord Flemington sent his fist crashing into the center of the other man’s face with lighting speed. The force of Flemington’s blow sent Simon-North flying backward into one of the constables, who wobbled unsteadily as the prisoner’s weight fell against him. Holding his cuffed hands to his face as blood streamed from his nostrils, Simon-North yelped, “You broke my nose!”
“That,” Thora sneered, “was for Ivey!”
“Now, now that will be enough,” Inspector Graham harshly voiced, giving Lord Flemington and Thora a scolding glance as he and his men took their prisoners outside and into the carriage Nyle had requested brought up to the front of the manor.
Thora watched as the carriage rolled away, followed by the Langless carriage carrying Lord and Lady Langless, Floris, and Sandler Leedworthy. As the Langless carriage passed, Thora caught a glimpse of Lord Langless wrapping his arm around Floris and giving her a gentle, loving squeeze.
Thora sighed. It was over. Ivey’s murder was solved. Suddenly she felt someone’s presence behind her. She turned and saw through weary eyes that it was Nyle.
“Thora, I’m going to take you upstairs. You need to rest,” Nyle said. “Then I’m going to send Molly up with a bowl of broth and a strong cup of tea.”
“That sounds wonderful, Nyle,” she said.
Leaning against her brother, she climbed the stairs to her room and flopped onto her bed. Before Molly brought up her food tray, she was sound asleep.
The next morning the sun rose and shooed away the few dark clouds lingering from the day before. It was a special day for Garren who had risen early and was in the breakfast room anxiously waiting for Thora to appear. He wanted very much to speak to her. There was something he needed to ask her. He was having coffee with Nyle and was glad that they were alone. He was inwardly formulating his words and had started to speak when he was halted by Lord Flemington entering the room.
“Good morning,” the pugilist greeted cheerfully.
Annoyed by the intrusion, Garren went to the sideboard to pour himself another cup of coffee. He watched as Flemington filled his breakfast plate and then sat next to Nyle. After filling his cup, Garren returned to his seat just as Lord Flemington uttered the word marriage.
Who had Flemington been talking about? Garren sat forward, cursing himself for not being more attentive. He finished his coffee and, after excusing himself, went upstairs to check on Mason. Without knocking, he entered his colleague’s room and was taken back to find Thora inside busily fussing over the broadly grinning Mason.
“How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Greenstreet?” Garren heard a concerned Thora question while she leaned over the man to adjust his pillows.
Seeing that Garren had entered the room Mason, in a faked raspy voice, retorted, “A tad better, Lady Thora.” He had a hard time holding back his mirth as he watched Huntscliff’s face angrily contort.
“Well, you just relax, Mr. Greenstreet. I’ll be up with a tray for you in a few minutes,” Thora said. Noticing that Garren had come to see his friend, she added, “I’m sure he’ll be fine in a day or two.”
“I’m certain of it, Thora,” Garren muttered. There wasn’t anything wrong with Mason that a good swift kick wouldn’t cure.
“I don’t deserve such looking after,” Mason weakly called out as she opened the door to leave.
“Oh, but you do, Mr. Greenstreet, you most certainly do,” Thora said, giving him an endearing smile.
Garren waited for Thora to close the door behind her before snarling at Mason. “Don’t deserve it, is right! You got harder knocks on that rock-hard head of yours when you were a constable on the streets of London, and you were back on the job the same day.”
“That’s true,” Mason admitted smugly. “But back then I never had anyone as pretty as Lady Thora nursing me back to health. She’s got such soft hands and smells good, too.”
“I forbid you to smell her,” Garren roared, his hands curling into fists.
“Forbid? Huntscliff, you sound like she belongs to you and I’ll bet you haven’t even asked her yet. Better be quick or someone else just might beat you to it.” Mason laughed.
“That does it,” Garren hissed through clenched teeth. He marched over to the bed and was about to drag Mason from it when Thora suddenly reappeared with her maid, the latter carrying a tray laden with food. He took a step back from the bed at their sudden appearance.
“Molly was already on the stairs with your breakfast tray,” Thora said, explaining her quick return. She instructed her maid to set the tray down on the bed for Mr. Greenstreet. “I didn’t know what you would like, so I had the cook provide you with a bit of everything.”
Mason’s eyes grew wide and his mouth watered. The tray had a serving of thick ham slices, eggs, crispy fried bacon, kippers, fresh baked scones, toast, butter and marmalade, and a pot of coffee, the one thing the cook knew Mr. Greenstreet preferred. “Oh, Lady Thora, you are spoiling me.”
Garren looked on with envy as Thora poured Mason his coffee. “Cream and sugar, Mr. Greenstreet?”
“Just black,” Mason answered as he picked up his fork and dug into his breakfast.
“Thora, I think Mason is capable of feeding himself. May I accompany you downstairs to the breakfast room?” Garren asked.
Observing that Mr. Greenstreet was as engrossed with his breakfast as a child with a bowl of pudding, Thora giggled. “Seems you’re right, my lord.”
As Garren opened the door for Thora, she turned and said, “If there’s anything you need, Mr. Greenstreet, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Mason, unable to speak due to a mouthful of food, he smiled and nodded. Thora returned his smile and, from behind her, Garren’s eyes threw daggers.
As they made their way down to the breakfast room, Thora said to him, “I haven’t had the opportunity to thank you for saving my life.” She paused. “And I do want to do it properly. Perhaps later this afternoon we can talk.”
“We can talk now if you like,” Garren suggested eagerly.
“No, not now. There’s something I must do this morning.”
Since he had only had coffee earlier, Garren joined the group gathered at the breakfast table. Lady Floris and Sandler Leedworthy sat together gazing into each other’s eyes like two lovesick birds while the three younger Langless girls pointed and giggled at the pair. Not surprisingly, Lord and Lady Langless were not present. The previous day had been a tiring day for Floris’s parents.
Lauryn Mayfield and her mother entered the room shortly after Thora and Garren. They immediately went over to Thora to inquire how she was feeling. When they were assured that she doing as well as could be expected for someone who had faced death only the day before, they asked Thora if she wanted to take a walk with them after breakfast. Garren noted that again Thora declined, responding that she had something important to tend to.
When Thora and Garren finished eating, they rose and went to the front hall. There they parted. After promising to chat him with later, Thora strolled out the front door. Glancing out of one of the lower floor’s windows, Garren observed her heading toward the stables. He couldn’t stop wondering where she was going. A short while later, he noticed a carriage traveling in the direction of the village church. There was nothing for him to do but wait. Nyle had returned from his routine visits with his tenants and was in the breakfast room. He wasn’t in the mood to go back upstairs to see Mason. All he could do was hope that Thora wouldn’t be long.
Leaving the manor in her carriage, Thora told her driver to take her to the church cemetery. Beside her on the bench seat sat a fresh bouquet of flowers to place on Ivey’s grave. As the carriage rolled along, she thought about the words she wanted to say to Garren when she returned. She wanted to thank him with more than words, but before she could do that she would have to find out about that woman. The woman who shot him and what role, if any, she played in his life.
The carriage came to a halt and she alighted with the footman’s assistance. Knowing the grass would still be wet from yesterday’s downpour, she had wisely packed a blanket. Waving off the footman’s offer to escort her, she took the blanket and flowers and carried them to Ivey’s resting place then spread the blanket out next to the grave so as not to soil her skirts. She then began clearing away the old and wilted flowers she had placed a few days earlier. As she worked, she talked about the harrowing events of the previous day.
“You can have peace now, Ivey. The man who hurt you is going to the gallows, never to harm anyone again.” Thora placed the new flowers by the headstone, then sat back on the blanket, tucking her legs under her and as she did many a time. With Ivey, she spoke her innermost thoughts. “I have a secret to tell you, Ivey. I haven’t told anyone, not even Nyle, although I think he may have already guessed. I’m in love. Oh, Ivey,” she said softly, “he’s so wonderful. He’s tall and handsome, and I just know you would you would like him.”
Thora paused. She still felt the pain of her friend’s loss, though it had slightly lessened since Viscount Simon-North’s arrest. She signed heavily. “I miss you so much, Ivey. I guess I always will, but you will always live in my heart, my dearest friend.”
Thora’s fingers traced the name craved into the headstone. “I’ll never forget you, Ivey.” A tear rolled slowly down her cheek onto the grass.
For a long time, Thora sat in silent prayer at her friend’s gravesite, then, collecting the blanket and discarding the old flowers, she returned to the carriage and told the driver to take his time going back to the manor. She told him to stop when he neared the house as she wanted to get out and walk.
With Thora gone, Garren impatiently wandered from room to room. He avoided the other guests, as there was only one person he wanted—needed—speak to. Thora. He found himself in the library. He went to the window and stood, just as Thora had done the first day he arrived at Mannington Manor. He smiled, recalling that day when he’d looked up and saw the woman he had almost instantly known he would marry. He was going to ask her this afternoon and hopefully she would say yes. As he gazed out the window, his chest swelled with pride when he saw Thora slowing strolling up the long drive to the front door.
God, she was beautiful with the sunlight kissing her brown tresses with a golden sheen and putting a fresh glow into her cheeks. Suddenly her ocean blue eyes looked ahead and brightened. Since she was still too far from the house to see him at the window, he wondered what or who she was looking at. Lowering his gaze to the front steps, he saw Lord Flemington waving to her. He watched as man left the step and raced down to meet her. They chatted briefly, then to his heart’s distress, Lord Flemington threw his arms around Thora, picking her up, twirling her around, and laughing happily before he gently set her back down on her dainty feet. Lord Flemington was acting like a man in love.
Panic seized Garren and he ran from the library. As he was making his way downstairs, Flemington was coming up the stairs, a huge grin on his face. Spotting Garren, he excitedly uttered, “I’ve just been made the happiest man on earth. She said yes.” Catching sight of Lord Langless on the landing above, Flemington continued his climb, babbling that he was ending his bachelorhood.
Numb with disbelief, Garren stood on the steps unable to move . . . Thora and Avery Flemington. Was that why she had postponed their meeting? She’d wanted time to accept Lord Flemington’s hand in marriage before she broke the news to him? He knew he’d never be able to bear hearing those words from her lips. The woman he wanted for his own was about to tell him she had chosen another. His legs went numb, but he forced them to move. He went to his room then soon informed the servant who answered his bell to have his carriage ready. He was leaving immediately for London. He then began to pack. When he was finished, he went into Mason Greenstreet’s room to tell him he was leaving.
“Leaving? You’re leaving now? Today?” a stunned Mason queried.
Without another word, Garren, his shoulders slumped, strode out of the room. Downstairs, he found Nyle in his study and informed his friend that he had a private matter in London that needed his attention immediately and to please say goodbye to Lady Thora.
“I’m sure Thora will be most disappointed that she missed seeing you,” Nyle finally said.
The two men shook hands.
“I’m in your debt, for solving Ivey’s murder and for saving my sister,” Nyle said sincerely. He added, for Thora’s sake, “You will come back and visit us, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Garren promised untruthfully.
Nyle watched his old schoolchum leave the study in haste and wondered how he could have been so wrong in thinking Garren was about to ask for his permission to court Thora. Poor Thora, Nyle thought sadly. It was not the conversation he thought he’d be having with Huntscliff today. Not the conversation at all.
At that moment Thora was anything but sad. After being spun about by Lord Flemington, who’d announced the news that he had followed her advice and asked Lady Lauryn Mayfield to become his wife, and by some miracle the girl accepted, Thora went to congratulate Lauryn. Lord Flemington told her that she would find his betrothed on the back terrace. Following the path from the front of Mannington Manor that led to the back terrace, she found Lauryn sitting with her mother.
Seeing Thora, Lauryn sprang from her chair and ran with her arms open wide to embrace her. Lady Mayfield shook her head, watching the two friends dance merrily around like schoolgirls. When they had exhausted themselves, they sat down and Lauryn told Thora how very sweetly Lord Flemington had gone down on one knee to propose. Thora gave her a hug and congratulated her again, only this time seriously.