She hugged herself inside. He sounded as if he admired her. Or was he simply telling her this so she would fight being forced to marry him? It would set him free too—and his honor would remain intact if she declined him. She eyed him warily butcouldn’t ascertain his true thoughts on the matter. She guessed she’d learn her fate when they returned to London.
After a few hours, their carriage finally rumbled into the quaint village of Malahide, a pretty village by the sea. She shook herself awake, since she’d dozed the last few miles due to lack of sleep the night before.
She peered out of the carriage to take in cobbled streets that were lined with charming cottages and bustling with locals going about their daily routines. Farah’s gaze scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of their friend.
“Let’s start at the inn where we’re staying,” suggested Farah, her voice tinged with determination. “Perhaps someone here has seen him or knows of his whereabouts.”
The inn wasn’t up to the standard of their accommodation in Dublin, but it was clean and had two rooms available. It also had a private dining room, which they could use for meals.
After refreshments and other needs were taken care of, they made their way through the village, inquiring at every shop they passed. Despite their efforts, the answers they received were vague and inconclusive. They were told in no uncertain terms that no English gentleman lived here.
Rockwell sighed heavily, frustration evident in his voice. “It’s as if Lucien has vanished into thin air. But we can’t give up hope just yet.”
Farah nodded in agreement, her resolve unwavering. “Perhaps they are suspicious because we are English? We’ll continue our search. We owe it to Lucien to leave no stone unturned.”
Rockwell pointed back toward the inn. “I’ll go and speak to the blacksmith. Surely he must service all those around this village. Do you want to wait at the inn?”
Farah shook her head. “I’ll visit the church at the top of the hill. It looks out over the sea, so at least I’ll take in a beautifulview. Besides, I’ll stop at the vicarage. The vicar must know all his congregation.”
“Good idea.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll meet you up there.” He strode off down the hill toward the sounds of the smithery.
Farah took off her bonnet and let the crisp sea air clear the tension headache that had been building all morning. The view as she walked was breathtaking and for one moment, she forgot all her troubles. Soon she game to a rickety iron gate that was the entry to the graveyard. She could see the vicar’s cottage further up the hill, but she wanted to read all about the people who had lived and died in this little village.
She wandered through the weathered gravestones in the yard, her footsteps muffled by the damp grass beneath her feet. The sun cast a glow over the ancient burial ground as she trailed her fingers along the cold, moss-covered stone markers.
Her eyes scanned the inscriptions, each one telling a story of lives long gone. Some names were faded with time, barely legible, while others stood out in bold relief, their memories preserved for centuries. Farah paused at one particularly ornate tombstone, tracing the elegant script with a gloved finger.
Lost in thought, she was startled by the sound of light footsteps approaching. Turning, she saw a little girl, only around three or four, her dark hair tousled by the wind, racing toward her with a wildflower clutched in her hand.
“Dia dhuit,” the girl said breathlessly as she skidded to a stop in front of Farah and handed her the flower.
Tears welled in her eyes. She recognized that smile, and the look around the eyes, and the child’s hair coloring were the same. She smiled warmly at the child’s kindness, taking the offered bloom delicately between her fingers. “Thank you, sweety,” she said, her voice carrying the lilt of a foreign accent that piqued the girl’s curiosity.
The child tilted her head, studying Farah intently. “Who are you?” she asked, in Irish English this time, her blue eyes wide with wonder. “And why do you talk funny?”
Farah chuckled softly at the girl’s blunt question, kneeling to meet her gaze. “I am Lady Farah Perrin,” she replied. “What’s your name?”
The child eyed her as if judging if she should talk to a stranger, but she must have thought Farah was nice because she said, “I’m Ava-Marie.”
Farah’s excitement grew at hearing the name Ava. It couldn’t be a coincidence. She looked around the graveyard. “Are you here alone? I’m a friend of your father’s. Is he here?”
The girl’s eyes widened in awe at the mention of her father. “Daid?” she repeated, the word rolling off her tongue. “He’s visiting with Máthair.”
She held out her hand. “Shall we find them?”
With a sudden burst of energy, Ava-Marie took Farah’s hand. “Or we could play a game,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Would you like to explore the graveyard with me? I know all the best hiding spots!”
Farah laughed, her heart warmed by the innocence and enthusiasm of the child. Taking the girl’s hand, she rose to her feet. “But I haven’t seen your father in a very long time and I’d love to say hello.”
“I suppose. But we could play afterwards. Daid always finds me, though.”
Ava-Marie skipped along beside her, chatting, sometimes in English and sometimes in Gaelic. Farah’s heart was so full. He was alive. But with that came a dread regarding questions. Was this child the reason he hadn’t returned home? Was he ashamed that he’d been unfaithful to Courtney?
They rounded the corner of the church and she saw a man over by the tree, standing over a grave. She could tell he wastalking and she could also see it was Lord Lucien Cavanaugh, Viscount Furoe, the heir to the Earl of Danvers.
“Daid is talking to Máthair.”
The truth hit her squarely in the chest like a cannonball—Ava-Marie’s mother was dead. Just as they drew near, he leaned down and cleared some old flowers off her grave and placed fresh ones on the headstone. She saw him wipe a tear from his face. As he heard them approach, he swung round to face them. She hardly recognized the man in front of her. His beard was full and his face had a deep slash from the top of his right forehead down his cheek.
