Apathy and Vigour (Sins of the Virtuous Book 4)

Chapter 2

Amalie Fergus crept from the house, desperate not to be seen.

"You have a visitor, daughter," she heard her father calling in a raised voice. "Bastian Tanner is here to see you."

Hearing that name made her skin crawl. She had seen his carriage arrive and knew she would have to make herself absent as quickly as possible before he found her. Of all the gentleman callers she had, she despised Bastian the most.

In some people's opinion, he was a handsome man. His blond hair was well-kept and collar-length. He was average height and build, not surprising considering he had never lifted a finger to work in his life. His attire was always very neat and looked far more expensive than he could surely afford. Then there were his eyes—light blue pools that made some women weak at the knees. Amalie definitely wasn't one of those women. She didn't know what it was, but when he looked at her, his cold eyes showed little, if any, expression. There was something not right about him, and certainly not how he constantly kept lurking around her home, persistently demanding to seek an audience with her.

She had tried to tell her father that Bastian's attentions were unwelcomed, but he always brushed off her concerns as those of a frigid, young woman who was yet to learn the experiences of a marital relationship. Squeezing the note in her hand, she knew just how wrong her father's assumptions were.

The note from Tristen had arrived that morning just after breakfast, requesting a meeting with her after midday at their usual place. She'd counted the hours ever since, until finally, she could wait no more. Bathing and dressing in jeans and a plain cotton shirt, she prepared to go meet with her lover. That was when she heard the Tanner carriage arrive. Even if she hadn't arranged plans for the afternoon, she still would have snuck from the house.

"Amalie!" she heard her father yell. "Where the hell are you?"

If her father were to find her now, dressed as she was, there would be hell to pay. How could she explain to him where she was going and who she was going to meet? Stepping out the back door of the house, she ran toward the stable and the horse she'd had readied for her. She was just about to swing up into the saddle when her brother came to a stop beside her, his jeans and cotton shirt filthy.

"Where are you going?" Jacob asked.

She swung into the saddle, knowing she had to direct the conversation toward where he had been since breakfast instead of where she was about to go. "Where have you been?" she demanded. "Father has been looking for you, and I've had to cover for you for hours."

"Tristen asked me to stay and help him stack some bales so he could go to some meeting this afternoon."

She raised her brow. "You do far too much for him. Especially when Father needs help running our own station."

"He's my friend, and he needed my help. Besides, he assured me he would pay me for my time."

"I bet he did."

"He asked after you," Jacob continued. "Even enquired about the suitors that have come calling on you. He seemed very interested in you." He eyed her carefully. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear he has kept our friendship all these years just so he could get close to you."

She laughed, though she couldn't feel humoured by her brother's remark. If he were to ever learn the reason for Tristen's apparent interest, he would certainly not approve. "I'm sure you're overreacting. I doubt he's barely had time to notice me, what with so many of the ladies of the town begging for his attention."

"He said something similar about the men desperate to court you, sister," Jacob goaded, his brow raised. "Which begs me to ask where are you sneaking off to? More to the point, who are you sneaking off to meet dressed like that?"