Carving for Miss Coventry by Deborah M. Hathaway

Chapter Thirty-Three

Fear clenched Edward’s chest, refusing to release its hold. This was not how Mr. Coventry was supposed to find out.

This was not how at all.

The man stormed toward them, the door to Daffley Park swinging wide open behind him. He wore neither jacket nor hat, his waistcoat unbuttoned and cravat clinging to his shoulder from the rain.

“Mr. Steele,” Miss Coventry breathed.

“It will be all right,” he said, though he did not believe the words himself. He reached down, taking Miss Coventry’s hand in his, willing his fingers not to tremble.

How could he have allowed this to happen? How could he have been so stupid, so careless? Mr. Coventry would, in no way, allow Edward to keep his job. His future as a woodcarver was lost. How would he care for Mother? How could he be with Miss Coventry?

His hope spiraled down like a bird diving toward land, only he could not spread his feathers and swoop back into the sky. He was grounded, stranded upon the earth for he, like a fool, thought he could sail without wings.

Mr. Coventry shouted from across the grounds once again. “Remove yourself from my daughter at once, Steele!”

But Edward held fast, and so did Miss Coventry, her grip on his hand even tighter.

This was the last way Edward had wished to go about matters, but time could not be turned. He and Miss Coventry had chosen their path, and he would not regret it—even if the fury in Mr. Coventry’s stride made the hair on Edward’s neck stand on end.

“What in the devil do you think you are doing, Steele?” Mr. Coventry shouted, fire in his eyes as he approached.

Edward held up a hand. “Sir, allow us to explain—”

“Oh, you are past explaining,” he growled.

The closer Mr. Coventry raged, the more Edward realized the man was not stopping. Would he take a swing at Edward? Pull Miss Coventry back into the house? He moved his shoulder in front of her to protect her no matter what her father did.

“How dare you!” Mr. Coventry shouted, stopping inches from Edward’s face. “How dare you come under my roof and steal away my daughter.”

Edward drew a steadying breath. He longed to shove Mr. Coventry back to a respectable level, but the father had every right to be angry. Edward had acted abominably.

“Father,” Miss Coventry began, “he did not steal me away. We are—”

“I will speak with you later!” he shouted, pointing his finger at her.

Miss Coventry shrunk back, her hand gripping Edward’s.

“Do not shout at her, Mr. Coventry,” Edward advised, his voice deep and slow. “Direct your anger at me, not your daughter.”

Mr. Coventry’s eyes widened. “You have no right to tell me what to do.”

Edward paused, finding the humility he knew was needed in this situation. He was in the wrong, and they all knew it. “You are right, sir. But I will beg of you to listen to your daughter.”

Mr. Coventry carried on as if he did not hear a word Edward said. “I should have known better than to keep you on. I should have dismissed you the moment Lord Ryecombe wrote to me nearly a week ago, informing me of the rumors.”

Lord Ryecombe? Edward fisted his free hand. He should have known. That earl would be the death of him yet.

“But no,” Mr. Coventry spat out, rainwater flying from his lips as he shouted the words. “I foolishly believed in your merits. I chose to trust that after a month of work, you had proven your worth. Of course that was not the case. Now you have injured my family with your filthy name, behaving the same as your worthless father.”

Anger surged through Edward’s veins, as it always did at any poor mention of Father. Edward had wanted to copy Mrs. French’s letter and distribute it to all of Somerset in order to clear their name, but they knew it would do very little. People believed what they wished to believe, and lies bellowed louder than the soft-spoken whispers of truth.

“I would advise against speaking of what you do not know, sir,” Edward said.

A sneer stretched across Mr. Coventry’s lips. “Just as I thought. You haven’t shared that with my daughter, have you? Is that how you deceived her, with your lies?” He faced Miss Coventry. “This man has been dishonest with you from the beginning. When I returned from Bath, I was finally informed of the horrific scandal involving his family.”

Edward had never been more grateful that he’d spoken the truth.

Miss Coventry shook her head, coming to stand side-by-side with Edward. “He has told me, Father. They were falsehoods spread about by a disenchanted gentleman.”

Edward’s love for the woman grew tenfold. She had not once questioned his words, believing him from the start. How had he ever earned the love of such a woman? How would he ever live without her?

She took a step forward. “You cannot—”

“Silence, Marianne! I will not hear another word from you.”

Edward squeezed Miss Coventry’s hand in support. “You must stop shouting at her, sir.”

“Or what?” Mr. Coventry growled. “You have nothing, Steele. You’ve a sullied reputation, a ruined business, and not a penny to your name. You’ll not receive a penny from me, either.”

Edward had been expecting the threat. When would he learn to never trust the word of a gentleman? He forced his mind to the present, though the burden of providing for his mother, for keeping Steele and Son afloat, pressed upon his chest like a pile of uncarvable stones. He had been so close to receiving that payment. So close.

“Father, that isn’t fair,” she cried out. “Mr. Steele has done the job admirably, exactly as you asked—”

“I did not ask for him to steal away my daughter in the middle of the night!”

Miss Coventry pulled back with a startled expression. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. Did you truly think you could get away with such misconduct?”

She winced. “I was going to tell you, Father.”

“Yes, but you didn’t, did you? Instead, I had to hear it from the gossip of my own servants.” He narrowed his eyes. “Imagine my disgust when I learned of my most obedient daughter’s subterfuge, convincing a maid and a woodcarver to go along with it.” He turned on Edward then. “I thought Mr. Morley had been mistaken in what he brought to me from below stairs. I was even inclined to speak with you to set the record straight. Then I see the both of you out here, cavorting disgustingly together. How could you risk her reputation in such a way, coming to Daffley, being in full possession of the knowledge of what those rumors could do to us? You had better pray the news has not yet spread about Ashwick.”

Regret rushed over Edward in droves stronger than the waves of the sea. “I have prayed for such, sir. I cannot tell you how I regret risking her name at all. I am deeply sorry.” He peered down at Miss Coventry. “To both of you.”

Her eyebrows pulled close together, and she shook her head, as if to say he did not need to apologize, but Mr. Coventry’s barked laughter cut through her words before they could begin.

“An apology means nothing when said out of duty.”

Miss Coventry removed her hand from Edward’s, wrapping her fingers around his forearm instead. “Mr. Steele has done nothing wrong, Father. I am the one at fault. It was I who convinced him to go to Wells, and it was I who spoke with him from the beginning.”

Mr. Coventry frowned, his eyes flicking between them as he clearly struggled to decide who to direct his anger at now. With a growl of frustration, he shook his head. “Return inside, Marianne.”

“Father, please, listen—”

“I will not ask you again.” Mr. Coventry took a step forward, reaching for her arm. “Return indoors and wait until I am finished with this worthless woodcarver.”

She tried to pull her arm away, but her father held tight, pulling her forward. Edward’s desire to protect her surged through his body, a raging fire consuming his every thought.

“Release her,” he spoke as calmly as possible.

Mr. Coventry turned livid eyes on Edward. As if Heaven helped him, he could almost see the man’s fist flying toward him just before it occurred. In swift movements, Edward pushed Miss Coventry out of the way as gently as possible, ducking in time for Mr. Coventry’s blow to sail through the rain.

“Father!” Miss Coventry cried out in despair. “Stop!”

Mr. Coventry did not listen, attempting to hit Edward again, but Edward jumped away with arms raised in defense. He refused to engage in a physical fight with Miss Coventry’s father. He loved her too much to hit him back.

Shouts came from across the wet grass as Mrs. Coventry, the elder Miss Coventry, and the butler rushed forward.

Mr. Morley was a large man, and Edward’s heart thumped in his ears. Edward would not stand a chance between both him and Mr. Coventry.

“Jacob!” Mrs. Coventry shouted out toward her husband. “What is going on?”

Mr. Coventry stopped advancing on Edward, though his fists clenched tightly in front of him. “I am defending the honor of our daughter!”

The others came to stand just behind him, eyes wide as they glanced from Edward to Miss Coventry.

“This does not need to escalate further, sir,” Edward said, raising an open hand toward Mr. Coventry as if to tame a wild animal. “If you will but listen to what your daughter has to say.”

Moments ticked by, the tension as dense as the rain clouds above until Mr. Coventry’s fists lowered. He glanced at Marianne, and Edward held his breath before the man spoke again.

“Get on with it then.”