“I am happy to hear it. May I—” Parker’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “May I see her? Just for a moment?”
Henry inhaled deeply, the scent of an upcoming storm heavy on the air. Dark clouds gathered in the east. An ill omen warning him not to allow Edwin Parker anywhere near his sister?
Or all the more reason to invite the man in?
“Very well.” He stepped aside. “But only for a minute.”
Parker bypassed him, fumbling in his pocket. Once inside, he pulled out a pocket watch, golden chain dangling from his fingers, and offered it on an upturned palm. “Should you like to time me?”
Henry rolled his eyes. The man’s humour was as dry as the brown leaves that’d blown in onto the carpet. “No need. This way.”
He strode from the hall, the rhythmic thump of Parker’s cane keeping time with his steps. Hopefully he wasn’t leading a wolf to his sheep.
Charity looked up as they entered, her expression freezing the instant she saw Parker.
“Edwin?” His name was barely a breath as she straightened in the chair.
Folding his arms, Henry leaned his shoulder against the wall near the hearth, close enough to guard his sister if need be, while at the same time allowing Parker space to speak with Charity.
The man pulled off his hat, setting it on the side table before dipping a deep bow. As he rose, his brow creased when he took in her frail form. “Good afternoon, Miss Russell. I will not intrude on you for long. I merely came to see with my own eyes that you are well. I …” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his hard swallow audible in the quiet room. “I feared the worst.”
“That is unexpectedly kind of you, but as you see, I am recovering beneath my brother’s watchful eye.” Her gaze flicked to Henry then back to Parker, her fingers playing with the hem of the lap rug.
“I would expect nothing less, though you must understand I had to put my mind at ease.” The sharp line of his shoulders relaxed, a rare smile softening the harsh planes of his face. “I am happy to see you no longer languish.”
Charity’s eyelashes fluttered, a dusky rose spreading over her cheeks. “I appreciate your concern.” She twiddled all the more with the blanket fringe.
Henry hissed a quiet breath between his teeth. Since when did his sister fidget like a schoolgirl in this man’s presence? While he appreciated the life seeping back into her flesh, it irked him for Parker to be the cause. She’d suffered enough when she’d anguished over breaking things off with him, and even more when he’d played the part of the spurned suitor all over town to gain sympathy.
“All right, Parker. I can only assume your curiosity has been sated.” Henry stepped away from the hearth, one arm sweeping towards the door. “I shall see you out now.”
“Henry!” The landing of Charity’s book on the floor clapped as sharply as his name from her lips. “Don’t be so boorish.”
A glimmer of amusement sparked in Parker’s dark eyes. “He is only being protective, which is reasonable. I would do the same were I in his shoes. Besides, I do not wish to tire you.”
Henry tensed as the man closed the distance between him and Charity, ready to spring if Parker tried anything untoward.
But Parker merely retrieved her book and—ever so gently—set it on her lap. “Should you have need of anything—anything at all—simply send me word. Despite our … past, I would do all in my power to help you.”
Charity nodded ever so slowly as she clutched the book to her chest. “I know that, and I appreciate it.”
He dipped his head, then pivoted with aid of his cane and collected his hat. With a last bow to them both, he bid good day, then clapped on the beaver-felt top hat and hobbled to the door.
Henry followed him into the corridor, jaw tight, undecided what to make of the exchange between his sister and this man.
Parker didn’t so much as glance over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t pilfer any silver on my way out.”
Henry gritted his teeth, trapping a frustrated retort. The man could try the patience of a saint, and God knew he didn’t come close to that title.
When they reached the front hall, Parker turned to him, face unreadable but his tone a challenge. “Take care of her, Russell. I would not see her suffer any more than she has.”
Sincerity swam just below the surface of those words, catching Henry quite off guard. “Nor would I,” he murmured. He’d taken every measure in his power to see to Charity’s well-being, yet each had proved insufficient. No, he could not resent the man for caring for his sister. By his own admission he had loved her once.
And likely still did.
Without another word, Parker snugged his coat tight at his neck and opened the door, then stepped out into the first spasms of what promised to be a drenching rain. Henry watched him swing up to his mount with a wince, disregarding the drops of water pelting his own face. Had he been wrong about the man?
He closed the door against the chill and wandered back to the sitting room, unsure what to think about anything anymore. Charity hadn’t moved a whit, the book still clutched to her chest, her face fixed on the orange glow of the fire.
