The Devil's Own Read online

  Chapter Three

  Mary had long ago determined that Reverend Wayward was a man of many contradictions. Handsome, but humble. Keen of mind, yet never patronizing. Mild-mannered, but strong in his convictions. Over the last two weeks, however, he’d undergone so many contradictory changes in temperament that she hardly knew what to think.

  He’d unquestionably rejected her, but then had given her implicit encouragement, only to return a few days later to wariness and avoidance. Now, however, she saw in his eyes—which kept returning to her with happily increasing frequency as he delivered his sermon—something that looked suspiciously like regret.

  Will I never understand him? She comforted herself with the thought that understanding would come with time. Once they were married, she’d have all the time in the world to unravel the mysteries of his mind and heart. For the moment, however, she was content to bask in the warmth of his occasional glances and know that she was in his thoughts.

  The many candles surrounding the altar cast a bright nimbus of light around him, making him appear saintly—for all that he was seated with a pair of crutches leaning against the pulpit beside him. As he expounded on the Lord’s great love for mankind, she thought heaven could have crafted no better orator for today’s message, even if his rich, commanding voice sounded a bit rougher than usual, as if he hadn’t slept well. She supposed his leg must be paining him greatly. Poor thing.

  While she waited with her parents to exit the church, she marked the reverend’s half sister, Lady Diana, standing close by. Opportunity knocks… Her chance of success would improve greatly if his family liked her. Since they’d already been introduced, it would be appropriate to offer holiday cheer. “Happy Christmas, my lady,” she said softly.

  The dark-haired woman regarded her with intense eyes the same startling blue as her brother’s. “Happy Christmas—Miss Tomblin, is it not?”

  “Indeed. Your brother’s sermon was beautiful and most inspiring. Please convey to him my appreciation.”

  “Why not tell him yourself? I’m sure he would love to hear it directly from your own lips.” Lady Diana’s stare was just as penetrating as her sibling’s.

  Heat stole into Mary’s cheeks. “Later, perhaps. When he is not so busy.”

  “I doubt he’d mind such a complimentary interruption,” said Lady Diana, smiling. She paused, as if hesitant to speak further, but then seemed to arrive at a decision. “I could not help noticing that his attention seemed to settle on you quite often today.”

  Mary’s gentle blush gave way to a face-prickling flood of heat. “Oh? I had not noticed,” she lied.

  “I’m sorry. I did not mean for my observation to make you uncomfortable.” Lady Diana’s smile turned wry. “My brothers tell me I’m far too direct. I merely wondered at his behavior—it’s unusual for him to be so distracted.”

  Don’t I know it! Maintaining her placid expression, she waited, unsure how to proceed.

  “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as preoccupied as he has been of late,” continued Lady Diana. “At the risk of causing you further discomfort, I’ll share with you something few people outside our family know. For all that he speaks from the pulpit every week, Daniel is quite introspective and shy. He has always preferred to listen rather than venture his own opinions—a good quality for a vicar, but a potential obstacle in the pursuit of, shall we say, personal contentment?”

  Stunned, Mary had to make an effort not to let her jaw drop. Direct, indeed! “I can see how that might be so,” she at last managed.

  Lady Diana’s eyes lit with amusement. “A lady would hardly be able to discern such a gentleman’s interest in her.”

  She took up the thread, hope pounding in her chest with every heartbeat. “And…how would a lady go about encouraging the attentions of…such a gentleman?”

  Her companion’s smile broadened another increment. “One might offer to assist him with a task for which few others are willing to volunteer, thus creating an opportunity to build a rapport. For instance, my brother recently bemoaned the fact that so few help him in seeing to the needs of the village’s elders.”

  It was a brilliant idea. She’d never minded helping Mama care for her grandparents. In fact, she’d often found it thoroughly enjoyable. They’d told some of the most fascinating stories about their youth. She would show Reverend Wayward what an excellent wife she’d be by working at his side.

  So absorbed by the thought was Mary that she didn’t realize they’d been joined by another person until she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Her heart very nearly stopped when she turned to see Reverend Wayward standing there, hunched over his crutches.

  “Daniel,” said his sister, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye as she looked at Mary. “Miss Tomblin was just telling me how much she enjoyed your sermon.”

  Stinging heat again rose in Mary’s face at the unexpected prompt. Calm. Be calm. She forced sound from a suddenly dry throat. “Indeed, I was.” Fool! “I found it most moving.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Lady Diana chimed in again. “She also mentioned something about being inspired to volunteer her time. What was it you were saying a moment ago?” she asked Mary.

  Sweet Lord above! Pulse whooshing in her ears, Mary turned to him and again struggled for words. “I thought perhaps to assist you when you visit the older folk of the village.” His brows knit, and her mind raced. A snippet of overheard conversation rose to the fore of her memory. “I heard Mrs. Mickelby say last night that she’s been terribly lonely now that Mr. Mickelby is gone and her daughter has moved to Ireland. She has no family here to keep her company.”

  Midnight-blue eyes caught and held hers, and Mary could almost feel him peeling back the layers of her facade, searching for the truth. Lifting her chin a fraction, she met his steady gaze, daring him to find a lie. If her motives for wanting to help weren’t entirely altruistic, well, she was sure the Lord understood.

  Again, his sister intervened. “Did you not just last month complain of needing an extra pair of hands? And now, especially with your leg…”

  Mary felt an almost tangible weight lift from her when he again focused his attention on his sister.

  “Indeed,” he finally responded, ducking his head. “And the elders are of special concern, as many become isolated during the colder months. I don’t get around to them as often as I would like.”

  A flicker of surprise crossed Lady Diana’s face, but it passed so quickly it might have been imagined. “Then, I think you have your extra hands right here,” she said crisply, gesturing toward Mary.

  Heart pounding so hard she thought he must surely hear it, Mary waited for his reply. What if he declined? Breathe…

  “Happy am I to see another soul answering the call to serve the Lord,” he said a moment later with a smile that was cool but not unfriendly. “I shall be glad of your help, Miss Tomblin. See me next Sunday after service, and be ready to assist.”

  Relief mingled with excitement, but she maintained composure. “I thank you for the opportunity to do some good in our community.”

  With a cordial nod, he excused himself and hobbled on to speak to another parishioner.

  “That went well,” said Lady Diana. “Now we shall see if my dear brother can be liberated from his self-imposed isolation.” Her eyes were hard as she stared at her sibling, as if she were annoyed with him. Those eyes softened a bit as she again regarded Mary. “He has spent far too long in his own company. Your presence at his side will be good for him.”

  Mary certainly hoped so.

  …

  He’d been caught. Diana had somehow managed to trick him into revealing himself. And yet she hadn’t unmasked him. Why?

  It was all he could do not to turn around and try to see what she was doing over there with the troublesome Miss Tomblin. That Diana would try to foist her
off on Daniel like that was an unforeseen snag—one he would turn to his advantage, of course.

  He looked for Daniel, but his twin was nowhere to be seen. Most likely, he’d slipped into the vestibule as the final hymn was being sung. Impatience gnawed at him as he continued to chat with the lingerers, slowly ushering them toward the doors. Some people just couldn’t take a hint and leave. It was nearly an hour before everyone had gone, and his leg was hurting something awful, especially where the splint dug in.

  Locking the front door, he breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. They’d have to deal with Diana, but she’d be easy to persuade into cooperating. In fact, she might even be of help.

  “Hello?” he called, opening the vestibule door a crack.

  “I’m here.” Daniel emerged from behind the door.

  “Well?” he said, sitting with a groan and propping his leg up on the pew. “How did I do?”

  “Congratulations,” said Daniel, taking the crutches from him and setting them aside. “You made a far more convincing vicar than I expected.”

  “I told you I could do it,” Devlin replied, grinning. He sobered immediately, however. “We do have one slight problem.” He told him about their sister. “I’m not sure where I went wrong, but something I said or did gave me away.”

  His brother’s face paled several shades. “I’m ashamed to say the fault is mine. In a moment of exasperation, I complained to her after having visited Mrs. Small.”

  “The old woman you described as ‘querulous and sometimes difficult to endure’?”

  “Just so,” answered Daniel with a look of chagrin. “In a moment of selfishness, I told Diana I wished the children of the elderly paid them more mind so I would be less burdened with their care. It was not my best moment. Mrs. Small had been particularly biting in her commentary that day, and I could do nothing to please her.”

  Devlin chuckled ruefully. “And I just told Diana I—you—felt badly about not visiting the elderly more often.” He sighed. “Well, now at least I know why I was discovered. My God, I cannot imagine what David will do when he finds out about this.”

  “He won’t.” Taking a deep breath, Daniel squared his shoulders. “I know our sister. She’ll keep our secret—even if she’s angry—at least until she knows why we’re doing this. And she’ll never betray us, especially after she understands what’s at stake. When I visit Winterbourne tomorrow for dinner, I’ll make her understand why this ruse is necessary.”

  “Agreed. But must you go there? I don’t like risking more of our family learning about our little charade should you not—”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll think I’m you,” said Daniel with a grimace. “You were away so long they hardly know you anymore, so I’ll simply act sullen and make some excuse—I’ll say it’s about my London affairs. Nobody will want to talk about that. What of her playing matchmaker with Miss Tomblin?” His nervousness was evident in the way his fingers twisted in the hem of his borrowed coat. “How will you handle that? I don’t want her hurt, and neither will Diana.”

  “I’m well aware. You ought to have seen the look on her face when she realized her error,” Devlin said, shaking his head. “Assure her that Miss Tomblin will be handled with the utmost delicacy and tact.”

  His twin sighed and ran his hands over his stubbly cheeks. “I greatly fear this will end in disaster no matter how we go about it. By accepting Miss Tomblin’s help, you’ve practically told her to send out wedding invitations.”

  “I disagree,” Devlin answered with aplomb. “And for good reason—I have a plan, you see. I’m going to turn this mistake into an opportunity to make your Miss Tomblin see the truth: that the life of a vicar’s wife is much harder work than she desires. A week of changing infants’ diapers, spooning broth into hungry mouths, wiping runny noses, and emptying elders’ chamber pots will surely dampen her enthusiasm.” He winked.

  It was good to see Daniel smile, even if it was only a little. But his look quickly sobered. “Don’t be too hard on her. Her only real error lies in having become smitten with the wrong man.”

  As his brother put away the paraments, Devlin recalled the way Miss Tomblin’s face had shone as she’d watched him. Were Daniel any less vehement in his rejection of the girl, he’d have tried to convince him to at least give her a chance.

  There is no accounting for taste, I suppose. If his brother ever did marry, it would probably be some saintly, drab little mouse and not a vibrant beauty like Miss Tomblin.

  Snuffing the last of the candles, Daniel locked up and then helped him make his slow, clumsy way across the blessedly short distance to the vicarage. His breath froze in a cloud as his brother fumbled with the door and they slipped inside.

  Gifts of food from the people of Harper’s Grove, all delivered with heartfelt wishes of Christmas cheer and a speedy recovery, lay on every surface. My brother is well-loved by everyone here.

  The thought elicited a rather surprising pang of envy. London was a different world. Unless someone knew you, they kept to themselves. It also renewed his sense of guilt with a vengeance. Even now, his tomfoolery was jeopardizing what Danny had here.

  He could not fail his brother—again. Their sister’s meddling today was his fault. Diana had undoubtedly picked up on his nervousness and had attributed it to Miss Tomblin’s presence—but for the wrong reasons. He hoped Daniel could indeed convince her to play along.

  As if he’d heard the thought, Daniel turned back to him after building up the fire. “Much as I would like to put off being berated by our sister, I think it’s better to deal with her sooner rather than later. The longer we wait, the angrier she’ll be.”

  “No doubt,” Devlin grunted, grimacing as he gingerly propped his aching leg on the hassock.

  “I’ll go first thing in the morning rather than waiting until dinner,” his brother muttered, “and tell them I cannot stay because I’m coming back here to share Christmas dinner with you.”

  “I just hope you can get her to yourself long enough to explain.”

  “I’ll manage it.”

  They spent the rest of that evening discussing things Daniel had noticed about his performance that needed adjustment, as well as exchanging extra bits of helpful information.

  Mrs. Tidwell had a large black-and-white cat that adored her but despised everyone else—with the exception of Daniel. Devlin would bribe it with a bit of fish on his first call.

  Mr. Cotsworth liked to loan—or rather press upon Daniel—books he felt one ought to read, and always interrogated him on their contents at their next meeting.

  Though he understood the necessity, Devlin’s head spun at the volume of minutiae he was expected to retain.

  Christmas morning, Daniel, freshly shaven and dressed in layman’s clothes, including a thick scarf that obscured the lower half of his face and a hat that left only his eyes visible, set out for Winterbourne.

  All day, on pins and needles, Devlin waited, growing ever more apprehensive. When the door handle rattled just before suppertime, he all but forgot his leg, so urgent was the impulse to leap to his feet in anticipation of the news, whether it be good or bad.

  In stumped Daniel, bearing a covered basket. Setting it down, he shook off the snow and at once went to the fire to begin peeling off layers.

  “Well?” Devlin prompted, impatient.

  “At least she’s learned some impulse control,” his brother answered drily. “I thought she was going to slap me at first. I tell you, her basilisk gaze belongs on a jaded matron of at least fifty years of age. I shudder to think of her going to London to catch a husband with such a demeanor.”

  Devlin bit his tongue and resigned himself to the torment of waiting until his twin was good and ready to reveal the outcome, though surely it must have been favorable, given his lack of panic.

  When the last of the sodden layers had come away, Daniel fin
ally faced him. “She’ll keep quiet.”

  Relief washed over him, cool and welcome. “Thank God for that!”

  Daniel’s mouth twisted, but he held his peace. “It was not easy to convince her—I’ve never seen her so angry—but in the end, she saw reason. As for Miss Tomblin, Diana has agreed not to attempt to dissuade her, as it would appear suspicious after her encouragement. I told her you would handle it. She asked me to tell you, and I was instructed to deliver this message verbatim, that if you hurt the girl or muck this up, she’ll have your entrails served for Easter luncheon.”

  For the first time since the stupid misstep that had started all this, good humor made Devlin laugh. It was short-lived. “I hope she can forgive me. I hope you can, too,” he added earnestly, realizing that he hadn’t yet asked.

  His twin’s face softened in a way he’d never seen his own do. “Of course I forgive you. No matter the outcome. You’re still my brother even if you are an idiot.” Clearing his throat, he gathered up the damp coat and scarf to hang them up. “I’ll go set out the supper Evangeline sent back with me, and then you can continue teaching me how to behave like a rogue,” he said, the old, familiar twinkle back in his eye.

  Devlin let out the breath he’d been holding. All would be well. For his brother’s sake, he’d make certain of it.

  Chapter Four

  Two weeks later…

  Mary could hardly believe it. Only a few weeks ago she’d had no hope at all, and now here she was about to work side by side with the man she intended to one day call husband. It was an opportunity to be close to him, to learn his likes and dislikes, and to show him what an excellent wife she’d make.

  She’d dressed with thought to the sort of tasks she might be asked to carry out today. Not for her the sweeping, lace-trimmed gowns of Sundays prior. No, indeed. Today she wore a modest, practical dress of sturdy amber twill with minimal lace and lacking in any ostentation beyond the shiny brass buttons that marched down the front of her dark blue pelisse. It was simple but elegant, just the sort of thing a reverend’s wife would wear.