Armored Hearts

chapter 10

The next morning, Gareth flew back and forth in his chamber listening to the chaos in the house. Strange voices calling back and forth to one another. The grunts of men hefting furniture and scrapes as they moved it and then the thud of it being set back down.

Gareth punched the ceiling before descending to the bedroom door and peeking out again. He was dying to get out of the confines of his four chamber walls, while at the same time trying to stay out of the way of all the workers preparing the house for the blasted wedding.

He zoomed to the curtains and glanced down at the yard. Carts, loaded with flowers and food, were arriving. There were even some of the new automobiles parked in front of Waverly Park.

The now familiar sound of feminine laughter down the hall grated at Gareth’s last nerve. Jessamine would become his wife that very night. He surveyed the yard once more. It didn’t matter who was in the house, he had to get out at least for the day.

Gareth flew to the door and peeked out. Unfamiliar women in maid uniforms carried linens down the hall. He closed the door again and banged his head on it. He needed to call the whole thing off. He couldn’t go through with it. The idea of cold feet became reality for him.

His heart raced, and sweat ran from his forehead to his chin. He could just leave. Fly away. Maybe go to Scotland and never come back. Down the hall, Tabitha laughed. The melodic ring of her voice put steel in his spine. There was no money and no choice. For Tabitha’s sake, there was no escaping the ordeal to come.

He could do this. He just needed to get outside and get away for a bit. After waiting until no one was looking, he made his way down the stairs, into his chair, and out the back door. He glanced up at his majestic ancestral home. Waverly Park was a large stone estate, built twelve generations back. The inside had always been as cold and gray as the stone on the outside when Tabitha was absent. She was the only one to ever touch his heart. He’d do all in his power to establish her future. She’d even softened Grandfather’s stone heart through the years. He had to keep them safe. It was his duty.

After his encounter with Jessamine, he defied Grandfather after all and skipped dinner. Once everyone was in bed, he had patrolled into the early morning, looking for any signs of the archer, but the attacker had not returned. Perhaps he was lying low, waiting for a more opportune moment to attack. Gareth only hoped that would be after Tabitha and all the guests were gone.

Gareth was passing the stable when he noticed Thompton setting down a crate and stopping to eye him. The man nodded when he saw Gareth looking, and Gareth returned the gesture. He had never interacted with the ruddy-looking man much. Thompton mostly stayed in the stables, and when he was in the house, Sarah did all the talking for him.

He wondered how old Thompton and Sarah were. They’d been a fixture at Waverly Park as far back as he could remember and yet still looked to be in their prime. Both were strong, hard working, and loyal. Gareth thought about the couple’s impending dismissal and felt it gnaw at his gut. When Grandfather had to cut everyone’s pay and all the other servants left, they’d stayed. He’d have to give them some kind of severance package for such loyalty, to help them until they found work. That and a letter of recommendation and they should be fine.

He pushed on toward Mr. Strong’s house, remembering the disarray there. Sarah and Thompton must leave, before they were hurt by whoever had attacked Gareth and harmed Mr. Strong. He couldn’t have another victim on his conscience whose only crime was being associated with him.

Gareth pushed himself up the ramp and sat in front of Mr. Strong’s door. He eyed a young woman walking along the road with a toddler. She nodded a greeting, and he nodded back. Gareth knocked on the door in pretense. His plan was to force the door open once they’d passed so he could further investigate but was not able to follow that through since the door opened soon after he knocked.

Gareth stared up from his chair into the face of Mr. Strong. Gareth’s breath caught.

“Gareth, so nice of you to come. I wasn’t expecting to see you until tonight.”

Gareth’s mouth hung open as his eyes refused to so much as blink.

The old man, very much alive and unharmed, stared back at him. “Are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Gareth shook it off. “I…um… came by yesterday but no one answered. I was worried.”

The old man stepped aside and motioned for Gareth to enter. “No need to worry. I went home to visit my wife.” The old man grinned and punched Gareth in the shoulder. “Soon you’ll know all about the pleasures of matrimony.”

Gareth pushed his chair cautiously into the house, taking the room in. The cupboard was back in its place as was everything else. But on the floor where the pooled blood had been was a rug. “The rug is new.”

The old man smiled. “Yes, the wife sent it with me. She worries that the place looks too sparse.”

Gareth swallowed. “Right.”

He must have looked as distracted as he felt when he answered the old man. Mr. Strong stepped into his line of sight while he surveyed the rest of the room. “You seem out of sorts. Is it the wedding? Are you nervous?”

Gareth plastered on a stiff smile. “Aren’t most men nervous about their life coming to an end?”

Mr. Strong’s eyes warmed. “Marriage isn’t quite that. I suppose getting nervous about the commitment is normal, but I never was. I knew I was making the best decision of my life. You might find wedded bliss suits you.” Again the man punched Gareth in the arm. “And the benefits might leave you smiling enough to wipe that constant scowl away for good.” The man chuckled.

Gareth’s mind raced, trying to force some kind of logical explanation for what he saw and was now seeing. He was hardly listening to the man when it finally registered what the old man was implying. Heat rose into Gareth’s face.

The old man pulled up a chair to sit and look Gareth in the eye. “Do you have any questions or concerns about…tonight? You haven’t been like the other dandy men, chasing the skirts of easy women.”

Gareth’s temper flared. Who was this man to talk to him like that? He’d considered the man his friend and mentor, but he was obviously hiding something. The liar. What else about him was false? Was there even a wife?

“You don’t know what I’ve done or who I’ve been with. I don’t tell you everything.” Gareth spat the words at the man and backed his chair away from him.

The old man stood. “All right, All right. Didn’t mean to embarrass ye none. Just wanted to let ye know if you have any questions, I’d be willing to answer ’em.”

Gareth stared at him. The accent change brought back memoires of the swordplay, and the times the man had charged at him with a sword, forcing Gareth to use his flight or die. Had the man noticed or known all along? Or was Mr. Strong trying to kill him all those times? Gareth spun around in his chair. “I’m sure I’ve got it under control. I should get back.”

Mr. Strong opened the door, but stepped in front of him and blocked the entrance. “But you just got here.”

“I just remembered some things I need to settle before this evening.”

The old man grinned. “I’ll see you this evening at the wedding. Say, why did you come by if it wasn’t for some advice about tonight?”

Gareth shook his head. “No reason.” He glanced at the rug and then back up at the old man before making his way down the ramp.

Mr. Strong knew something about it all. Was the old man in on the attack? What was he hiding?

The next question came to mind—whose blood was pooled on Mr. Strong’s floor if it had not been that of Mr. Strong?

Gareth’s mind was a mess. He wheeled into his drive. The place was even more crowded with people.

“Bloody hell!”

Gareth wheeled to the back and entered through the kitchen, but that too was packed worse than a can of sardines. At least by that evening, the whole event would be over. But now what was he to do? Mr. Strong wasn’t in danger. Did that mean the rest of the household was safe? Or was Mr. Strong the source of danger?

He hid in a corner, waiting for a chance to fly to his room, but there was none. People dashed in and out of the foyer constantly.

“Do ye need help up the stairs, sir?”

Gareth looked up to see Thompton. “No, I’m quite all right. Go on back to your duties.”

“I’ve been run out of me stable as it’s being rebuilt.”

Gareth gaped up at the man. “Rebuilt?”

“Aye, yer fiancé is having it made into a garage fer her automobiles.”

Gareth glowered. “So she’s already taking over.”

“Aye, it would seem. Wives are known ta do that. Sarah told me ta make sure ye were gettin’ ready. I dona think ye can do that down here, and I dona want to get in trouble with the missus.”

Gareth had no choice but to allow Thompton to carry him up. He hated that. The man never looked Gareth in the eye when he had to carry him. At least he had that. Thompton sat him in his wingchair.

“Will there be anythin’ else?”

“No, thank you.”

Thompton bowed, before leaving and closing the door behind him.

Gareth hopped up and flew to his trunk. He pulled out the claymore and swung it about to let the tension out. Then he took it in both hands to examine it. “Where did you come from? And what kind of trouble did you bring with you that day?”

There was a quiet knock on Gareth’s door.

“Go away.”

Whoever it was, left, and Gareth continued his swordplay. The only problem in his mind was the question; who was his enemy? Then he thought of Mr. Strong. Who were his friends? Or did he even have any?

Gareth had to figure it out soon. But first he had to gain a wife and do all he could to be rid of her.