“That is not where her story ends.” His complexion was ashen once more, his jaw tense, tone grim. “As a result of her attack, she became with child. Not only had our father failed to protect her, he did not give a damn about what had happened to her other than the selfish fear it would bring him shame. When Lisbeth told me everything, I was sick. He intended to send her away, that she could birth the babe and he or she would be given to another family. In spite of what had befallen her, she did not want to lose her child. I went to our father on her behalf. He accused her of being just like our mother, calling Lisbeth a whore.”
His voice shook with anger on the last note, his entire body stiff with fury.
She stroked his back, feeling terribly ineffectual. “I am so sorry. I cannot imagine what your sister must have suffered, and then to have her own father turn against her…”
“It was more than Lisbeth could endure.” He bowed his head, struggling for words. “I promised her I would do everything in my power to keep her safe, but our father was her guardian. There was a clear limit to what I could do to aid her. I had planned to help her run away. I had secured a cottage for her in Shropshire, but our father discovered our plans and went into a rage. Lisbeth was terrified, and she…she hanged herself. I was the one to find her.”
“Oh dear God, Gabe.” She threw her arms around him again, holding him to her. “How awful that must have been for you.”
He held her tightly, another shudder wracking his big body, and buried his face in her hair. “I will never forget that day, how helpless I felt, knowing I had failed her.”
“You did not fail her.” She drew back and cupped his beloved face. “You did everything you could for your sister. You could not have known she would take such drastic measures to escape your father’s plan for her.”
She could see, quite clearly now, that Gabe blamed himself for what had befallen Lisbeth. She could also see why duty was so important to him, why he hated his father, why he believed love was the enemy. Everything came together. She understood this man for the first time, completely. Her heart broke for him.
“I did not do enough, or she would still be here.” His voice broke. “If I had been there for her when she needed me, she never would have been attacked. I begged her to tell me who was responsible, but she refused. Now, I will never know, and she will never have justice.”
How truly helpless he must have felt at the entire situation. She knew him to be a loyal, strong, caring man. A man who bore the scars of the past upon his heart.
“I am sorry.” She could not say it enough.
Not that words could do anything to ameliorate the pain within him or the sorrow at his loss. But that, and her love for him, was all she had to offer.
However, it was not her love that he wanted.
“I do not want your pity,” he said hoarsely.
“And you do not have it.” She searched his gaze, silently urging him to see what was before him. “All you have is me.”
He pressed a kiss to each of her palms. “You are everything I want, Helena.”
His words filled her heart with hope she feared would inevitably be dashed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
We must never give up our fight until we emerge victorious.
—From Lady’s Suffrage Society Times
Helena had formulated a battle plan.
Following breakfast that morning with Huntingdon—their usual polite affair—she arrived at the townhouse of Lady Jo Decker. The hour was unfashionably early, and it was rude for her to pay a call just now, but she was desperate.
Jo was expecting her, for she had sent word ahead.
They settled down over a tray of tea.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Helena said.
“It is my pleasure, dearest.” Jo pinned her with a dark, searching gaze. “You know you are welcome here whenever. Is something the matter? You are looking rather Friday-faced.”
Everything was the matter.
Where to begin?
She took a deep breath. “Do you recall Lord Algernon Forsyte?”
Jo’s nose wrinkled in elegant distaste. “Dreadful man. Far too much hair grease.”
Yes. What had Helena been thinking in going to his rooms that day?
She frowned. “An excellent description.”
Jo’s brows rose. “What of him?”
“Do you also recall my plan to achieve ruination so I might avoid marriage to the equally odious Lord Hamish?”
“Oh, dearest.” Jo settled her teacup in its saucer. “Pray tell me you did not consider Lord Algernon as one of your options. I do believe you had only mentioned Dorset before.”
“Lord Algernon was prior to Dorset.” Helena sighed. “Both of those plots were foiled by Huntingdon, of course. But Lord Algernon is not as willing to forget my plan as Dorset appears to be.”
“That dog.” Jo sat up straighter. “What has he dared to do? If there is any way I may be of assistance, I would be more than happy to do so.”
“He came to me yesterday and demanded one thousand pounds in exchange for his silence.” She closed her eyes against a sudden onslaught of emotion. Yesterday had left her feeling battered and raw, in more ways than one. “Apparently, he has gambling debts to settle. He has threatened to reveal our connection to the gossipmongers if I refuse or approach Huntingdon with his demands. I am expected to meet with him this afternoon at two o’clock.”
“But that is absurd! It would be your word against his, and all society knows Lord Algernon is a drunken, gambling reprobate. Why should anyone believe him over you?”
Helena took another deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves. “Because he has my pearl-and-emerald necklace. It would be sufficient proof—there is no other means by which Lord Algernon should find himself in possession of a piece of my jewelry. I must have inadvertently lost it when I went to his rooms for the assignation and Huntingdon was there instead.”
“Do you truly believe he would dare?” Jo frowned, her expression hardening with anger on Helena’s behalf.
“I fear he may.” She paused, gathering her tumultuous thoughts. “And the fear of the damage it would inflict upon my husband if word of this scandal were to emerge… Oh, Jo. I do not know what to do but pay the one thousand pounds in exchange for my necklace.”
“That is blackmail.” Jo sounded outraged. “How dare he?”
“It is thoroughly rotten,” she agreed. “But the fault is mine for associating myself with such a scoundrel. Not even my desperation is an apt excuse. I was being careless and imprudent, and now I must pay the price so that my husband does not.”
“You are still hopelessly in love with Huntingdon, are you not?” Jo asked quietly, sympathy softening her features.
She thought of the husband she had come to know, the tender lover who kissed and caressed her so sweetly, who brought her to such unimagined heights of pleasure. The man who could not escape the demons of the past.
“I love him more now than I ever have,” she confessed quietly. “Unfortunately for me, his parents’ disastrous marriage before him has left him with the belief that love is an insupportable base for a marriage. I must keep my feelings a secret, lest he discover them and seek to put some distance between us.”
Like going to Shropshire.
“Helena, that is perfectly dreadful for you. I am so sorry, my dear friend. What a merciless muddle you have on your hands.”
She sighed. “That is one way of describing it, I suppose. Another is hopeless. How is your marriage with Mr. Decker, if I may ask? I long to cling to some hopeful news.”
Jo’s countenance once more changed, the softness turning into a look of such undeniable tenderness that Helena knew a pronounced pang of jealousy in response. “My marriage has become everything I hoped it would be and more. I find myself falling more in love with my husband with each passing day.”
“And I have it on excellent authority that your husband feels the same way
about you, bijou.” The smooth drawl of Mr. Elijah Decker matched his flawless appearance as he prowled unannounced into the salon. “But do not stop extolling my virtues, I beg you. Carry on. I would dearly long to hear more.”
Jo laughed, the smile she sent in her husband’s direction filled with love. “What are you doing back from your office this morning? I did not expect you until later.”
“I was missing my lovely wife, and as none of my business concerns were pressing, I decided to indulge in my whim.” Mr. Decker dropped a reverent kiss upon Jo’s brow and then turned to Helena, offering an effortless bow. “Lady Huntingdon, it is an unexpected pleasure to see you this morning.”
Unexpected, yes. Helena’s cheeks went warm as she realized she had unintentionally interrupted a mid-morning tryst between husband and wife. Mayhap thinking to embroil her friend in her foolishness had been a mistake.
“I was just leaving,” she began, starting to rise.
“Nonsense,” Mr. Decker said congenially.
“I refuse to allow you to go,” Jo said in unison.
Helena blinked. “But my problems are mine and not yours. Moreover, I have no wish to intrude upon your day.”
“Sit!” Jo ordered, then waved a hand at her husband. “You as well, darling. Helena needs our help.”
Helena looked from Jo to Mr. Decker, the latter whom proceeded to obey his wife by obligingly sinking into a nearby settee. She gathered her courage and her original purpose in this visit.
Another deep breath, and then she plunged onward. “Mr. Decker, would you be able to loan me one thousand pounds? I am happy to repay you, with interest, on a schedule decided upon by you.”
Mr. Decker eyed her, looking bemused. “Huntingdon is withholding funds from his new countess? I always thought him a prig, but never a miser.”
Gabe was a bit of a prig, and she had thought so to herself on many occasions, but Helena nevertheless felt the need to defend her husband. “He is neither prig nor miser, Mr. Decker. I require the funds without his knowledge.”
“Ah.” Mr. Decker cocked his head, silent for what seemed an eternity but was likely no more than a few seconds as he considered her. “A loyal wife who nevertheless wishes to keep a secret from her husband. Intriguing.”
“Helena is trying to protect Huntingdon,” Jo added, before turning to Helena. “Decker will keep your secret, this I promise. However, the choice is yours if you wish to divulge the full truth. We will aid you in your cause either way.”
Helena relayed the sordid tale of her attempts to escape her looming marriage to Lord Hamish White, her involvement with Lord Algernon Forsyte, her lost necklace, and Lord Algernon’s subsequent demands.
When she finished, Mr. Decker narrowed his gaze upon her. “Why not involve your husband, my lady? Why come to me instead?”
“Because Lord Algernon threatened to proclaim his story far and wide if I do, and because I am seeking to avoid scandal and upset for Huntingdon in every way possible.” Out of deference to her husband, Helena neglected to mention anything deeper concerning Gabe’s past.
“Hmm.” Mr. Decker tapped his chin, as if he were contemplating the matter further. “Why should Lord Algernon care if you tell Huntingdon he has demanded one thousand pounds of you, do you suppose?”
It was an excellent question, and one which had been troubling Helena herself. “I cannot think of a good reason, other than that he fears Huntingdon would refuse to give him the funds. Apparently, he possesses some pressing gambling debts that are being imminently called in.”
“And yet, a gambler is, by his nature, a man who takes risks. Enjoys the thrill of them,” Mr. Decker said. “It is the potential reward that drives him, but he also loves the game of bluffing. Why would he not bluff to Lord Huntingdon as well as to his wife?”
Helena frowned, considering Mr. Decker’s query. “Would not bluffing to me create the same effect? Moreover, how can we be certain he is bluffing? My necklace has been missing since the night I went to his rooms.”
“I think he is bluffing because I make it my business to know the men of the Upper Ten Thousand, and Lord Algernon is no stranger to me,” Mr. Decker responded. “To call the man a bag of shite would be an insult to offal everywhere.”
Helena grimaced. Jo made a sound of disapproval. “Decker.”
“What?” He grinned at his wife. “Do you think any friend of yours could be offended by plain speech, bijou? I dare say not.”
Mr. Decker had a sweet sobriquet for Jo. Envy speared her. Oh, to have that love, that devotion from her own husband.
Then again, Gabe did have a pet name for her, on the odd occasion. Though she could not entirely be certain hellion was a term of endearment.
“I am not offended in the slightest,” she hastened to reassure Jo and Mr. Decker both. “And I could not agree with your assessment of Lord Algernon more, Mr. Decker. Why do you suppose he would bluff about going to the scandal mongers with his story?”
Mr. Decker quirked a dark brow, and Helena had to admit he was a ridiculously handsome fellow. Charming as well. She could see the allure he had presented for her friend, and she was more than pleased to see the manner in which he treated Jo, the easiness between them. Even if it was what she so desperately wanted for herself with her own husband.
“Call it a hunch, Lady Huntingdon. I wish to do some reconnaissance on the matter, but I will loan you the thousand pounds for your afternoon meeting with the arse, as you wish.”
His easy acquiescence had her on edge, nonetheless. “What manner of reconnaissance, Mr. Decker?”
“Leave that to me, my dear. I must insist it, as a stipulation of my loan, if you will.” He flashed her a rake’s grin. “I shall have a man deliver your funds by noon. But now, if you do not mind terribly, my dear Lady Huntingdon, there is a matter of grave import that I must imminently discuss with my lovely wife.”
Helena thought she knew what manner of discussion he required.
Jo’s pretty flush confirmed her suspicion. “Decker,” she chastised without heat. “You are incorrigible.”
He turned his charm upon his wife. “Always, my love. Have I neglected to mention I brought your favorite strawberry cream ice?”
Her color heightened. “You certainly could have mentioned it sooner.”
As husband and wife became lost in each other’s eyes, Helena took her cue to leave.
She rose from her seat, shaking out her skirts. “Thank you for the tea and company, and for your willingness to offer me aid. I cannot express enough gratitude to either of you.”
“Anything for you, any time you ask, Helena,” Jo vowed. “I cannot forsake a fellow sister of the Lady’s Suffrage Society, nor a friend as dear as you.”
Mr. Decker winked. “And make no mistake about it, I will be more than happy in the knowledge that the Earl of Huntingdon shall owe me a favor.”
Gabe tried to suppress his mounting irritation as the hulking Scotsman who had directed him to the small anteroom in the offices of Mr. Elijah Decker finally returned. He had spent nothing short of the last quarter hour pacing the floorboards, and his patience was not just thin; it was thoroughly decimated.
“A tart?” asked the Scotsman.
Gabe blinked at him, certain he had misheard. “I beg your pardon?”
“Ye have the look of someone in need of sweets, m’lord,” the man elaborated. “Would ye care for a tart? Mayhap a wee pudding?”
Was the man daft?
“Do you offer the dessert course to every caller of Mr. Decker’s?” he demanded, quite rudely, he was aware. “Or am I alone in the dubious honor?”
But ever since his conversation with Helena the evening before, he had been on edge. The combination of his worry over whatever had been troubling her and the revelations he had made to her had been gnawing at him. He did not possess the requisite calm to entertain the whims of a cheeky, flame-haired giant.
“Dinna fash yerself,” said the Scotsman. “My dear, puir mother, saints
preserve her, always said that when a man looks as if he could spit nails, ye ought tae offer him a balance.”
Huntingdon stared at the Scotsman. “Have you any tarts?”
The man grinned. “Nay.”
“Pudding, then?”
The Scotsman shook his head. “Nor puddings.”
Gabe ground his jaw, exasperation mingling with impatience. “If you are in possession of neither tarts nor puddings, why offer them, sir?”
“The name is Macfie, yer lordship,” the giant corrected gently, “and I dinnae blame ye for forgetting. ’Tis nae a terribly memorable name for a Scotsman, is it?”
“You neglected to answer my question, Mr. Macfie,” he said acidly, wondering once more at the reason for his summons.
He was a member of Mr. Decker’s club, but their paths had not often crossed. Yet the missive the man had sent to him had suggested he required an imminent meeting. Only for Gabe to cool his heels whilst being bedeviled by the man’s Scottish beast.
Macfie nodded, as if Gabe’s ire was only to be expected. “In truth, yer lordship, Mr. Decker is unexpectedly detained with a matter of grave import, and I am attempting tae distract ye until he is ready for ye. I was intending tae offer cream ice next.”
Gabe was saved from having to respond when the door clicked open to reveal Mr. Elijah Decker.
“Thank you, Macfie, for entertaining Lord Huntingdon whilst I was otherwise occupied,” he said easily. “Please make certain that Lady Jo makes her way safely to the carriage, won’t you? She ought to be leaving my office in just a moment.”
“Aye, Mr. Decker.” The Scotsman bowed and disappeared, the door closing discreetly behind him.
Mr. Decker’s last words revealed to Gabe the nature of his host’s distraction.
“I ought to have known it was a female causing your distraction,” he said coolly, taunting his host with the reminder of his reputation as a rakehell.
“You may want to play nice, Huntingdon,” drawled Mr. Decker. “My wife is aiding you in a most important endeavor.”
Lady Reckless (Notorious Ladies of London Book 3) Page 24