Page 86 of A Convenient Fiction

And what of Neville?

Was he alive and well? Or had his fall from the cliffs at Abbot’s Holcombe ultimately killed him, or damaged him in some permanent way?

For over two decades, Alex had resigned himself to not knowing. But now…

“You’re very quiet,” Laura said.

He forced a half smile. “The calm before the storm.”

No sooner had he spoken than the parlor door swung open, and the vicar entered the room. He looked as he always did—his gray hair rumpled, his frock coat slightly worn, and his spectacles perched halfway down his nose. “Mr. Archer. Miss Hayes. This is a surprise.”

“Mr. Wright,” Alex said.

George trailed in after his father. His hands were thrust into his pockets.

The vicar motioned both men to sit. “There were many who thought we’d seen the back of you, sir.” He flicked a reproving glance at Laura. “Your aunt was among them.”

Laura didn’t appear surprised. “Aunt Charlotte’s predisposed to worry.”

“With good reason, it seems.” The vicar settled himself in a chair before once again addressing Alex. “My son has been telling me all sorts of things about you, Mr. Archer. Am I to assume that’s why you’ve come?”

Alex took a seat next to Laura on the sofa. “It is.”

“It’s none of your business, father.” George leaned against the mantel. His expression was sullen. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Don’t know why I did.”

“Because you thought I wasn’t coming back,” Alex said. “But here I am, as you see.”

George scowled. “Where the devil did you get to? Had I known you’d return—”

“To London. To purchase a special license.” Alex took Laura’s hand in his. It was silky warm, her slim fingers threading through his. “Miss Hayes has consented to be my wife.”

Understanding registered in George’s eyes. Anger quickly followed. “What about Henrietta? You and I had a bargain—”

“George.” The vicar raised a hand to silence him. “Let us speak about this in a civilized manner. We are not savages.” He turned to Alex. “About this bargain…am I to understand that my son owes you money? A sum he lost to you at the gambling tables in France?”

“He does, sir.”

“And that the sum exceeds ten thousand pounds?”

Alex inclined his head.

The vicar’s eyes were suddenly weary. “You and I must come to terms then. We honor our debts in this household.”

“I told you, it’s nothing to do with you,” George said to his father. “I already negotiated a way to pay it back.”

“I know all about the way you arranged to pay your debt,” the vicar returned with uncharacteristic venom. “By sacrificing the life of an honorable young woman.”

“It was only an introduction. Henrietta wasn’t obliged to marry him.”

“That poor girl deserved better from you.”

George snorted. “That poor girl is three times as devious as I am, and twice as devious as Archer. If you can’t see that—”

“Enough, George. I won’t hear you justify your sin. All I require from you—”

“All you require is perfection. That I meet your unmeetable standards.”

“Not that you meet them, only that you aspire to them. The same thing I would ask of any of my congregation.”