He nodded.
The older woman took his face into her wrinkled hands. “You don’t look a thing like her, do you? You are the spitting image of your father—a waste of skin and bones, he was.”
Trevor stepped back. He did not know this woman who was so free with touching him. Blinking, he tried to comprehend her words. “You kn-new my parents?”
She moved toward him again, emptying the space between them. “Delilah was my little sister and the prettiest girl in all White Waltham. Both the squire’s sons were made for her. She foolishly picked the younger brother, who didn’t have two farthings to rub together. His love for her did not last very long past their wedding day, and the poor dear died nine months later, having you.”
“Y-you are my aunt?” he said, his voice quaking. “Why have I never met you before?”
Two bright spots appeared on the older woman’s face. “Yer father forbid it. He was too high and mighty for the likes of me and my husband. Yer father thought of himself as a gentleman, and Goodman was a carrier and a hard worker. We moved around a fair bit and ended up buying a cottage in Hampford. After he died, I started selling my herbs and mixtures. Many folks come to me over the doctor in town.”
Trevor knew that his uncle, even his bishop, would be horrified to learn that they were closely related to a village wisewoman; yet he felt nothing but joy. Widow Goodman’s sharp green eyes were soft when they landed upon him. She seemed to care about him more than any other relative had before. Maybe love was simply given, as Mary said. Not deserved or earned.
“I am sorry to hear of your loss, Aunt Goodman.”
She let out a laugh that sounded rather like a witch’s cackle. “You mean to claim me as family?”
He held out his hand to her. “If you will let me, ma’am.”
Aunt Goodman’s sharp eyes looked at his outstretched hand warily. “Your uncle the squire will not like that.”
Trevor sighed, shaking his head, still holding his hand out to her. “My uncle does not like me at all. And I will no longer be ruled by his whims. I am not sure yet what course I will take, but I will not be under his thumb for even a week more. I have sent him a letter of resignation.”
At last, she took his hand into her older, gnarled one. “The squire is a fool. He never got over Delilah picking your father over him. He is probably taking out his spite on you.”
“It’s true,” Mary interjected. “Squire Wallace promised Trevor a living, two livings, in fact, and he has worked as a curate for nearly nine years, and his uncle has refused to honor his word. He means to give the livings to his own son and keep Trevor in penury.”
Frowning deeply, Aunt Goodman shook her head. “All the Wallaces were rotters, in my opinion. You do not need their help in the world. You have got me.”
“And me,” Mary added.
“And who might this lovely young lady be?” Aunt Goodman asked with a wink. She clearly already knew Mary and her charges, but she wanted to know who Mary was to him.
He could feel Mary’s steady gaze on him. She wanted to know too. Was she his fiancée? Or another regret he would carry? His life was nothing but regrets.
Clearing his throat, Trevor lifted his head and found his courage. “Aunt Goodman, allow me to introduce you to my fiancée, Miss Perkins. We mean to marry as soon as the banns can be called, and we would be most pleased if you attended the ceremony.”
The older woman smiled. “I should like that very much, Mr. Wallace.”
“Trevor, please.”
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Trevor, my nephew, I have not laid eyes on you since the day you were born, but I have loved you. And the last thing my sister did before she died was kiss your forehead. She said you were the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen and that she loved you with all her heart.”
His eyes filled with tears. His whole life he had been waiting to be loved by his family—only he’d expected it from the wrong ones.
“May I escort you two lovely ladies to dinner?”
He offered one arm to Mary and the other to his aunt. With them on each side of him, Trevor knew that no matter what the future brought, he would never be alone again.
Chapter 9
The next morning Mary gave Trevor a shove in the back. He reluctantly knocked on the door of Lord Hampford’s study. After dinner the night before, he had told her of his plan to ask for the duke’s help in finding a living. Mary thought it was a wonderful idea. She had wanted him to speak to Lord Hampford there and then, but Trevor did not wish to make a scene in front of the other guests.
Mary gave him another nudge. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and his mouth tasted of straw. Writing to his uncle was not half as terrifying as asking a duke to help him find a living.
“Come in.”
Glancing over his shoulder at his betrothed, he saw her reassuring smile before entering the wood-paneled room. He had never asked for anything in his life, but he would for her. Trevor loved Mary with all that was in him.