Son of a rogue and a gypsy, Hero Fiennes Tiffin was a notorious rake until a shattering betrayal left him alone and embittered in the Welsh countryside. Desperation drives quiet schoolteacher Josephine Langford to ask Hero Fiennes Tiffin to help sav...
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Josephine slept badly that night. It had been easy to gloss over the gravity of her behavior when she was under Hero's spell. A kiss was only a kiss, more naughty than sinful. But seeing herself through Tegwen's eyes had forced her to confront her own behavior. No longer could she deny her weakness, her lustful craving.
As she lay sleepless, she heard the beckoning sound of Hero's harp. More than anything on earth she wanted to follow that siren song, to forget her pain in the warmth of his embrace. But that would be like a moth trying to cure its attraction to the candle by diving into the flame.
She rose in the morning with heavy eyes and a heavier heart. The thought of going to chapel made her hands shake, but she could not stay away. She had never missed a Sunday service in her life, and doing so today would be an admission of guilt.
As she donned her sober gray Sunday dress, she wondered if Tegwen would be at the service, and if the girl would tell others what she had seen. Bleakly she realized that the question was not if but when; Tegwen would hardly be able to wait until she could share the scandalous news. The girl loved being the center of attention, and the story of the schoolmistress kissing the Devil Earl would be irresistible. If the news wasn't out yet, it would be very soon.
While driving to Penreith, Josephine overtook the new cook, Mrs. Howell, who was on her way to the chapel. Mrs. Howell accepted a ride cheerfully and spent the rest of the journey thanking Josephine for finding her the situation at Westgate. Apparently she had not yet heard anything that impugned Josephine's morals.
They arrived just as people were taking their seats. Ordinarily Josephine would have found comfort in the familiar benches and whitewashed walls, the wooden floor that gleamed with lovingly applied wax. Today, however, she found herself watching to see if any of the other worshippers were regarding her oddly.
A quick scan of the congregation showed that Tegwen was not present. As Josephine slipped into her usual place by Marged, her friend smiled and nodded toward
Huw, who sat between Owen and Trevor, the oldest Morris son. Huw's narrow face glowed with happiness and his small body was clad in warm, sturdy garments that had been outgrown by one of his new foster brothers. For the first time in his short life Huw had a real home. When Josephine thought of what the boy had endured in the pit and at the hands of his brutal father, her own problems seemed less important.
The deacon in the pulpit named a hymn and the singing began. Music was an integral part of Methodist worship, and it brought Josephine closer to God than prayer ever had. As she raised her voice her tension began to dissolve.
Her peace lasted only until a late arrival entered and took a seat in the back. Amid the soft rustle of whispers, Josephine heard her own name. Feeling ill, she closed her eyes and steeled herself for what was to come.
