It was after dinner, while the young people went to help Anne unpack the meager possessions she had brought with her, that he had the chance to speak to Dorothea alone.
“I want to propose,” he said abruptly, “that in the short term at least, you consider my home as yours.”
She smiled. “You are very good, Marcus, but it wouldn’t do, you know. I never cared what people would say about me until I had children, but now I am well aware that I cannot stay there when you are not married.”
“Actually, you could. There are two options, but I won’t even ask you to consider the second at this stage. The first is that I invite a dotty old aunt of mine to live at Cotley Hall. She has been angling to do so for years. She is mostly harmless, and the house is big enough that none of us need fall over each other even when we are all there together.”
Her eyes softened. “Thank you, Marcus. You are indeed a good friend. But I could not put you out in such a way.”
“You would not put me out in the slightest. It would be my pleasure.”
She sat back, looking at him thoughtfully. But she did not answer at once, and then the young people came back in, announcing that Anne’s chamber was very small and cramped.
With little sleep the night before and most of a day’s traveling behind him, Marcus decided to retire early. He bade everyone goodnight, and even Anne smiled at him in return.
“Think about Cotley Hall,” he said to Dorothea, then went to bed.
Chapter Eight
After sleeping like the dead, Helen woke feeling heavy and unrefreshed. However, refusing to give in to such foolishness, she rose and joined the children at a cheerful breakfast, after which they repaired to the schoolroom for lessons. The boys, being on holiday from school, elected to help Eliza rather than distract her, so the morning flew by.
After luncheon, Helen decided they should go for a walk, and everyone bemoaned the absence of Spring, their sister’s lunatic pet dog who was in Lincolnshire with her, and whose company was never dull.
“Fetch your coats, then, for it’s cold out,” Helen instructed, just as a footman came in and presented her with a silver tray on which lay a card. Sir Marcus Dain’s card.
“Two ladies are with him,” the footman offered. “A Miss Marshall and a Mrs. Robinov.”
Tell them we have already gone out. The lie died unspoken. She would not shirk the consequences of her idiocy. Or his most improper behavior.
“Oh, good!” George said, already leading the way to the door.
“Show them into the drawing room, James,” Helen said hastily. “We are just coming. George, wash your face and fetch your coat while you’re there.”
George scowled, but didn’t otherwise quibble, so she could at least present three clean and much better-behaved children than yesterday to Mrs. Robinov. Moreover, since they were clearly dressed to go out, their visitors would hopefully take the hint and stay only a few minutes.
Entering the drawing room, Helen and her charges curtsied and bowed together. Helen did not look directly at Sir Marcus. In truth, she was still in turmoil over yesterday’s encounter. His anger almost proved she had been mistaken in her belief he was in pursuit of Anne. And that moment by the stairs, kissing her… That was beyond flirtation, beyond anger. Surely, he had been forcing her to recognize their mutual attraction.
Which was hardly gentlemanly, however weak at the knees it had made her. And he had drawn back almost immediately, leaving her confused and convinced she would never understand anything about men. Which was, she assured herself, a good thing.
“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Robinov said politely. “I hope we are not disturbing you. But when Marcus and Miss Marshall explained things, I realized I had been both harsh and unreasonable when I spoke to you yesterday.”
“Indeed not, ma’am,” Helen replied at once. “I was very much at fault.”
“But understandably so. I came to apologize.”
Helen regarded her doubtfully. “There is no need, but I thank you for your kindness.”
Beside her, the children stood unnaturally still, as though they sensed her tension.
Sir Marcus stirred, drawing everyone’s gaze. Even Helen wasn’t quick enough to prevent her instinctive glance. “Allow me to make the formal introductions—somewhat belatedly. Dorothea, Miss Milsom, governess to these children, the Honorable George, Eliza and Horatio, who are family connections of my godfather. And this is my old friend, Mrs. Robinov.”
Helen curtsied again. The other woman inclined her head in a friendly enough manner, but she did not offer her hand.
“Mrs. Robinov is, perhaps, the friend for whom you were going to Russia?” she asked Sir Marcus.
“Indeed, but it seems my services, being rather late, were not required.”
“And he came to the Hart to see her,” Anne interjected. “Not pursuing me!”
Helen had been angry with him for no reason. She had already begun to suspect it. But although it felt good not to have been so mistaken in him, his connection to Mrs. Robinov now bothered her.
“And Mr. Robinov?” she asked civilly.
The woman’s eyes fell. “My husband died in the war.”
“I am so sorry,” Helen blurted, stricken.
Mrs. Robinov straightened, forcing a smile. “You and I must stop apologizing to each other, Miss Milsom.”
“You are dressed to go out,” Anne observed brightly. “Are you going for a walk?”
“Come with us,” George offered, no doubt with the hope of avoiding the schoolroom for the rest of the day.
“I think we’ve disturbed you enough,” Sir Marcus said, reaching for his hat.
Helen didn’t know if she was more relieved or piqued that he was in such a hurry. But whatever his motive, it was vetoed by both Anne and Mrs. Robinov, who both seemed eager to walk in the grounds of Audley Park. There was little Helen could do but lead the way. Now she, too, longed for Spring to distract them all.
At the outset, Sir Marcus strode ahead with the children while the ladies walked more sedately behind. Anne danced between the two groups, apparently quite at her ease. The difference between her manner at Steynings and here was quite remarkable.
“Are her parents likely to accuse me of abduction?” Mrs. Robinov asked at once.
“No, I imagine they believe Anne came with me. In fact, they probably think she is at Audley Park with us.”
“Is that what you told them?”
“No… but I believe someone else will. Anne is not good with scolds and disapproval.”
A shade of amusement lit Mrs. Robinov’s fine eyes. “I perceive I have met a fellow managing female.”
Helen cast her a reluctant smile. “It goes with the profession. And I seem to regard Anne much like one of my pupils when, in fact, I have no business interfering in her life at all.”
“I have absolutely no objection to her coming to Audley Park now that I have met you, and Marcus has explained.”
What did Marcus explain? Helen bit her lip to prevent herself asking. Instead, she said, “I am happy to leave that to Anne, and to you since you seem to have become her chaperone.”
“My children are happy in her company. They have no other friends in England.”
A shout of laughter came from George in the distance. “Miss Milsom! Look at this!”
With an apologetic smile, Helen strode ahead to discover both Eliza and Horatio hanging upside down from the same tree branch by their knees, identical grins on their faces.
Helen couldn’t help laughing. “You’re stuck now, aren’t you?”
“Not in the slightest,” Horatio said, dropping onto the hard ground with a sound like “Ouff!” He wriggled underneath Eliza who promptly dropped on him. As one, they jumped up and ran on.
“You take it all in your stride,” Marcus observed from some feet away.
“They are high spirited, and I like to see Eliza smile. On the other hand…” Hastily, she ran after them, more to escape the pull of st
aying in Sir Marcus’s company than because she was truly worried. But, in fact, they seemed only to be talking together as they walked, admiring something in George’s palm—probably some unusual insect.
Anne fell into step beside her. “Thank you for coming after me.”
“I’m sure everyone has already told you how risky and just plain silly it is to gad about the country on your own? You were lucky to fall in with Mrs. Robinov.”
“I know,” Anne said contritely. She glanced sideways at Helen. “Do my parents know where I am?”
“I imagine they think you’re safe at Audley Park with us.”
“I suppose I should be there when they arrive,” she said gloomily. “For they will come to fetch me, won’t they?”
“I imagine so.”
“What if they don’t like Mrs. Robinov?”
“They will like the connection to Sir Marcus,” Helen said cynically.
Anne laughed. “That is true, but they will soon learn they are barking completely up the wrong tree. Sir Marcus would never have offered for me, for it’s my belief he is in love with Mrs. Robinov.”
Until the words hit her with the force of an ax, she hadn’t realized how much she had feared this, or how much it would hurt her.
I want his love. Because I love him.
I can’t love him! I have not known him a week! It’s mere infatuation.
Whatever she called it, the pain was the same. But it made sense. Mrs. Robinov had been married to another, but he had still been determined to go to Russia—in wartime and in winter—to rescue her. Helen had been merely a distraction, one of many kindnesses on his way to his great love.
Her heart seemed to twist. Lashing herself, she murmured, “Why do you say that?”
“Aside from him rushing to her as soon as he received her note at Steynings? They talk with their heads close together. I’ve seen them hold each other’s hands. And he has invited her to Cotley Hall.”
And yet, he flirted with me. He kissed me. Why do I always fall for such unsuitable men?
“Well, it is none of our business,” she managed with commendable lightness. “I am glad to see you more comfortable in his company.”
“Oh, yes, he is quite the hero, you know! He has been everywhere you can think of and had such amusing adventures. He has published several books and articles on his travels, too. And guess what? Only last month he actually went to France and rescued his wounded brother from certain death. Or imprisonment. Or both. I’m not quite sure, but at any rate, it was most heroic, don’t you think?”
“It does sound so,” she agreed. She cast a quick look at Anne. “Did he tell you all this?”
“Lord, no. Some of it was gossip I heard, even before I came to Steynings and met him. The rest I had from Mama and Papa, and from Kenneth and Carla. Some people said he’d run away to France with Isabelle de Renarde—you know, the traitor’s widow—but apparently that is not true. She just helped him rescue his brother.”
“Just,” Helen repeated. His life seemed to be full of brave, capable, and beautiful women.
By the time they returned to the house, the twins had invited everyone to stay for tea. Helen, who had successfully avoided Sir Marcus during their walk, felt obliged to endorse the invitation.
Mrs. Robinov hesitated. “My daughter was not feeling well when I left. I don’t like to leave her too long.”
“Kenneth is with her,” Marcus pointed out.
“And Miss Milsom says there is nowhere better than the Hart Inn when one is not quite well!” Anne added.
George chortled. “I remember that time! You were weak as a kitten and slept for two days, while we went off on a pirate ship!”
“No, you didn’t,” Helen said mildly.
“Well, it was a ship, and you didn’t notice.”
“It’s just as well she didn’t notice,” Eliza pointed out, “or she would have sent to Mama and Papa and you’d have been locked in your rooms for a month. So would Henrie,” she added.
“Why is it your reminisces always remind me what a shockingly bad governess I make?”
Eliza slipped her hand into Helen’s as they walked up the stars. “You are the best governess we ever had.”
Leaving the children to play hosts, Helen excused herself to confer with the kitchen. There was no need for her to do so, as the cook pointed out when she sent her away again, but it kept her out of Sir Marcus’s company for another five minutes or so.
However, her scheme backfired when she encountered him on the landing with George who had apparently been showing him something. George grinned at her and slouched into the drawing room.
As she made to follow, Sir Marcus said, “Are you avoiding me, Miss Milsom?”
“Why should I do that?” she countered.
“Well, we were both angry yesterday. For my part, I apologize. But you still seem angry with me.”
“I have no reason to be angry with you.”
A frown tugged at his brow. “You must wonder, after the last time we spoke at Steynings, at my suddenness in leaving.”
“Your movements are none of my concern, sir.”
His lips quirked upward. “Like my character and my person?”
“Exactly,” she agreed, responding to his humor. It seemed she wanted his friendship. She just needed to be careful with her more wayward feelings. And she must not let him kiss her again.
“I would like to explain,” he said gently.
His low, deep voice seemed to vibrate through her, bringing back all her inconvenient awareness of him. Again, she avoided it.
“Well, let us have tea while you do so,” she said, and walked into the room.
And of course, he had nothing to say on the matter in front of Mrs. Robinov and the children. She tried to sneer at him for that, but the truth was, she already knew she had cut off her nose to spite her face, just because pride and a determination to hide her feelings got in the way of her desire, her need, to hear his explanation.
Unlike the coolness of their arrival, Mrs. Robinov did offer her hand upon departure. Helen and the children had come to the front steps to see them off, and Helen was happy enough to shake hands. Unexpectedly, Anne hugged her before rushing after Mrs. Robinov, and Helen was left facing Sir Marcus.
She would have curtseyed only, but he held out his hand in a compelling manner and it would have looked both odd and rude to refuse him. She gave him her hand, and his fingers closed around it, warm and firm.
A lightning bolt of awareness shot through her, and for an instant, she met his gaze, stricken. His frown deepened. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Goodbye,” she said in panic, slipping free and standing back.
Ruefully, he inclined his head and ran down the steps, calling some answer to George who stood at the horses’ heads. George backed off as Sir Marcus climbed in.
Helen wanted to weep, because she doubted she would ever see him again.
*
The following day, before luncheon, Lord and Lady Maybury came home, along with Richard—and Mr. and Mrs. Marshall.
As the children spilled out to greet their parents and brother, Helen saw that Lady Overton was looking distinctly harassed. Her face softened at the boisterous affection of her children, although both the Marshalls looked on with distaste.
Mrs. Marshall pushed forward to Helen, gazing about her all the time as though she expected more children—or perhaps more interesting adults—to heave into view at any moment.
“My daughter!” she said in throbbing accents. “Is my daughter safe?”
“Quite safe, ma’am,” Helen returned.
“Let us go inside,” Lady Overton said hastily. “Mrs. Marshall forgave you taking her daughter without her permission when Henrietta and I explained how it was for the poor dear girl. The strain of society was just too much for her sensitivity, and you were obliged to agree to prevent a scene or worse—the poor child rushing across the country unprotected.”
“I was glad to
do what I could,” Helen managed, quite impressed by Lady Overton’s speech. She almost believed it herself.
“And we are so grateful,” Philip said warmly on her other side. “But where is she? Afraid to greet us, I suppose?”
“I imagine she is a little nervous in the circumstances,” Helen allowed. “But she is not at Audley Park.”
“Not at…” Mrs. Marshall stared at her in consternation and surging outrage. “But you said…!”
“Where is she?” Lord Overton cut in, clearly fed up with the whole drama.
“At the Hart Inn, my lord.”
Everyone’s mouths fell open.
“Oh, Miss Milsom, you did not leave her alone at the Hart?” Lady Overton said in dread, no doubt forgetting that she had in fact instructed Helen to stay there alone before coming on to Steynings.
“Indeed not,” Helen replied calmly. “She is with a most respectable family who have taken her under their wing.”
“Respectable!” Mrs. Marshall repeated, “How can you be so—”
“And Sir Marcus Dain,” Helen interrupted, stopping her in mid-outrage.
The Marshalls paused and looked at each other, while Lady Overton led the way into the drawing room.
“Sir Marcus is staying at the inn?” Philips said cautiously.
“Indeed. He is a great friend of Mrs. Robinov, the lady who has been so kind to Anne.”
“I suppose,” Philip said, “knowing your position here, Helen, she did not feel comfortable staying at Audley Park without Lady Overton’s formal invitation.”
“Perhaps,” Helen said noncommittally.
“The Hart is a respectable house,” Lady Overton hastened to assure them.
Mrs. Marshall peered at Helen. “You are sure she is still there?”
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