by Audrey Glenn
“I should be very surprised to find that was true. He might be angry, but a man in love will overlook much greater faults.”
“In love?” Helen repeated. “I think you are mistaken.”
“Perhaps.”
The sound of the door opening made them both jump.
“David?” Cassandra flew to the door.
Helen followed close behind her. David was indeed standing in the front entryway, arms wrapped around Cassandra, who was sobbing.
“I thought I lost you!” she cried.
“Never,” David assured her, bringing a hand to Cassandra’s face and gazing into her eyes.
Love really did overlook a multitude of sins, Helen realized. David hadn’t looked this terrible after he recovered from a mild case of smallpox a few years before, and he could certainly stand to take a long bath.
Wrinkling her nose, she started to move towards her room and give the couple privacy. “Glad to see you back,” she called. They didn’t appear to notice her.
Helen sat on her bed and wondered how to apologize to Nathaniel. Perhaps he would stop by to welcome David home. She could try to seek him out, though it really didn’t do for a lady to visit a man in his home. She had only done so in a dire emergency. Did this also count as an emergency? She grabbed her cloak and walked towards the door.
David and Cassandra were sitting next to each other on the couch. Helen was careful not to enter the room all the way so as to avoid the smell.
“Are you going out?” Cassandra called from the couch.
“There’s something I must do.”
David looked at her sharply. “Helen — you know it wasn’t Nathaniel’s fault I was arrested.”
Helen pursed her lips and stared at David. “Of course I do.”
“And you should not blame him —” David continued, as if he’d not yet registered what she said. “Oh. Well, don’t punish him too much.”
“You mustn’t let him get away with no punishment,” Cassandra added, gently poking David in the ribs. “He must be made to suffer just enough.”
“Just enough. I see.”
“You’ll always have a home here,” David said, just as she turned to leave. “I want you to know that. You’re always welcome to live with Cassie and me.”
“Yes,” Cassandra agreed. “I should like to have you live as near to me as possible, including right here if that is what you wish.”
“It will save us hundreds of pounds on hiring a nursemaid over the years,” David added.
Helen grinned. “Thank you for letting me know how much I’m worth.” She made her way downstairs and out into the cold.
Nathaniel’s heart pounded as he approached Helen’s street. He wasn’t sure exactly what words to use, but he knew it would be cowardly to wait any longer before facing her. Of course, she might refuse to see him at all, but he had to try.
He was just reaching for the latch on the main door to the law office when it swung open to reveal Helen.
“Oh!” She seemed surprised to see him.
Nathaniel gaped at her. “I — you — I —”
“Are you here to see David? He’s only just returned.”
Nathaniel deliberated and decided to be honest. “I’m very glad to hear David is home, but I didn’t come to see him,” he admitted.
“Oh. Oh! Well then, I would offer you to come up, but the drawing room is occupied and the air is rather close.” She scrunched her nose in memory of a bad odor.
Nathaniel seized his courage once more. “Would you walk with me?”
“I should love to.”
Helen smiled up at him, and a weight lifted off his soul. “Is David all right?” he remembered to ask.
“He needs a bath, but he’s in one piece,” Helen assured him.
“What happened to release him?”
“Do you know, I forgot to ask? I presume Uncle Josiah got the magistrate to waive the charges. I didn’t wish to interrupt his reunion with my sister.”
Nathaniel tried to think of a way to use this topic to turn the conversation as he intended. “Could you ever forgive me?” he blurted out. It was a good thing he wasn’t so awkward in business dealings.
“I’m afraid it is I who must beg your forgiveness.” She explained what happened the night Winthrop died. “I can’t believe I was so unthinking.”
Nathaniel shrugged. “You didn’t know Winthrop would hear.”
“I should have done as David asked.”
He stopped walking in the middle of the street and turned to her. “You can’t expect your decisions to be right all the time.”
“I don’t expect them to be always wrong, either, as they have been lately.” She gripped her cloak.
“I believe ‘always’ overstates the case. You managed to increase your initial business investment at an enormous rate.”
“I did that with much assistance and some luck,” she protested.
“That’s the case for most of us, I believe. I’ve just learned the value of relying on others and could have avoided much misery if I’d discovered it sooner. In fact, I feel I must apologize for leading David so dangerously astray.”
Helen scoffed. “You mustn’t apologize for that. David is foolish enough to lead himself astray without your assistance! I don’t blame you in the least.”
Nathaniel felt a stab of hope. “I don’t blame you for Winthrop’s interference. Winthrop didn’t have to come to the dock or brandish a pistol at me.”
Helen returned his smile.
“Perhaps you could explain something?” Nathaniel suggested after a moment. “I’m very ignorant of these matters. How does a man ask a woman if he can court her?” He could tell, even in the dim light, that she blushed.
“I’m hardly less ignorant of how these matters are conducted in the colonies, but at Heartcomb, he might just ask her.”
“Ah. Another matter then — do you think a woman could be happy being courted by a man who owns only two black coats?”
Helen laughed, and his head swum with excitement. “After living with David, it would be a refreshing — oh.” She sounded distressed. She did mind. He would be willing to buy another coat if it would make her happy. Perhaps a dark blue?
“There’s something you must know before you go on.” Helen pulled back her hood.
“Is that a new gown?” Nathaniel asked, confused. She was wearing a red gown he’d seen before; he remembered admiring it.
Helen grabbed the white cap off her head. “Can you not see — my hair is gone?”
Nathaniel reached out a hand and gently ran his fingers through the soft, short curls.
“You’ll probably start a new fashion,” he said softly.
“You’ve already admitted you know nothing of such matters,” Helen reminded him.
“I know only one thing with certainty.”
“And that is?”
He stared into her eyes and wondered if this was the right moment. Seeming to sense his apprehension, Helen slid her hand into his.
“I can’t imagine going on in life without your intelligence, your humor, your plans and hard work.”
Helen stared at him for a moment. “And all my advice and mismanagement?”
“All of it,” Nathaniel said.
“What of my gooseberry tarts?”
“I will expect one every time I visit.” He squeezed her hand gently.
“Very well — you may court me.” She beamed at him.
Nathaniel felt as warm as if they were strolling on a summer’s day. Grinning like a fool, he offered Helen his arm and she slid her own through his.
It was dark now, and most people had disappeared into the warmth of their houses. They passed the City Tavern. Nathaniel thought about suggesting they stop but could not recall seeing any ladies in the coffee room. He had so much more to learn about courtship.
“Will you come up?” Helen asked when they reached her doorstep.
Nathaniel glanced up to the window where he assumed D
avid and Cassandra were watching. It was probably best to do this now — to formally ask David for permission to court Helen, as the rules required. “Yes,” he said, following her inside.
Helen started up the stairs, but Nathaniel grabbed at her hand to detain her.
“I’ve another question.” His heart drummed in his chest.
“Can it wait until we go upstairs? It’s so dark.”
“Is it acceptable for a man to steal a kiss from the woman he is courting?”
“Oh!” Helen breathed. “Yes,” she answered decisively. “Very acceptable.”
Nathaniel brought one hand to her face and gently kissed her. The kiss felt like air to a man who had not realized he was drowning. He placed his hand on her waist and pulled her closer. Helen stood on tiptoes and gripped the lapels of his coat as they kissed more fervently.
The door at the top of the stairs slammed open, flooding them with light. Both Nathaniel and Helen shielded their eyes.
“What is the meaning of this?” David demanded, taking the stairs two at a time to confront them.
“David,” Cassandra called from the top of the stairs. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m looking after the concerns of my sister,” David called back.
“You are being ridiculous,” Helen admonished him. She stepped away from Nathaniel but kept one hand in his.
“Am I? Do you mind telling me what you’re doing down here?”
“David!” Cassandra remonstrated. “I’m certain you don’t wish to speak of the many stolen kisses we shared before you married me.”
“Do you intend to marry her?” David asked, turning back to the couple.
“David!” Helen protested, mortified. Nathaniel squeezed her hand.
“If she decides we’ll suit. I mean to court her properly and give her the chance to decide if she’ll take a chance on me.”
David sniffed and folded his arms. “Very well — I’ll agree to it.”
“You’re not required to agree to anything,” Helen snapped. “I’m of age.”
“Not required by the law but by the love I bear you as my sister.” Nathaniel was surprised to see tears in David’s eyes but realized that David had made a habit of looking out for Helen. “I could not be so lucky as to gain a sister and then treat her carelessly.”
Helen began crying as well, and the next thing Nathaniel knew she was hugging David, then Cassandra joined them and pulled him in also. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d shed a tear, but he was required to wipe a few away.
“Come on then,” David said, motioning for everyone to go upstairs.
“I can’t imagine how you’ll behave when our daughter has suitors,” Cassandra told David.
David grinned. “Not to worry; we’ll just have sons.”
After a round of congratulations, Cassandra gently reminded David that he really did need a bath. She pulled him out of the room, continuing to argue about their unborn child.
“Are you certain you wish to entangle yourself further with this family?” Helen asked Nathaniel.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
Temperance Hayes looked out over the dancers in her drawing room. This should have been her wedding feast.
Not that she begrudged her cousin her new seafaring husband. He was handsome enough, in his way, though clearly David should have spent more time teaching him to dance. At least Captain Carter had allowed David to convince him to wear something other than his stodgy black homespun.
Blue suited Helen better as well.
The couple left the dance floor and joined David and Cassandra. In Temperance’s opinion, no woman that great with child should appear in public. She could not imagine humiliating herself like that--even for one of her own sisters.
Temperance watched as someone approached the bride and groom with slices of cake. They shared a look she could not decipher, and then Helen took the first bite of her cake.
She leaned forward when Captain Carter raised a fist to Helen. He pretended to thump her on the back, and her cousin burst out laughing.
Temperance rolled her eyes at such childish behavior. Winthrop would not have behaved so.
“Enjoying the feast, Temperance?” David asked, suddenly appearing by her side.
“Not really.”
She ignored his expression of mild surprise. “Would you care to dance, then?”
“Dance with your wife.”
“I have been, but she’s tired now and asked me to make sure her cousins were engaged.”
Temperance sucked in a breath. Thanks to him, she never would be.
“Shall I ask again?”
Temperance glared at him for three long seconds as the piece came to an end and the dancers applauded the musicians. In the brief space of silence between dances, she raised her voice to be heard. “You murdered Winthrop Morley.”
The silence stretched out as it seemed half the room turned to them.
David didn’t look away from her, though surely he was aware of the gazes upon them. Somehow, he kept his expression as indifferent and aristocratic as ever. “An ‘I don’t mean to dance tonight’ would have sufficed.”
After a moment, he nodded to the musicians, who struck up a minuet. Slowly, the dancers took to the floor, and attention turned away from them.
David stepped closer to Temperance, turning his back on the dance floor and the closest would-be eavesdroppers. Now his voice did carry an edge. “I’ll thank you not to ruin your cousin’s wedding feast.”
“Oh? You ruined mine.”
“I would be heartily surprised if Winthrop intended to marry you.”
Temperance glowered at him. She could march right upstairs and fetch the letters in Winthrop’s hand to the contrary. He’d only been dead two months, and everyone else was dancing as if on his grave.
“I’ll remind you the magistrate ruled it was clearly self-defense, not murder,” David continued. “I never intended —”
“The magistrate trying curry favor with you and your father? That one?”
Clearly her cousin-in-law’s temper was wearing thin. “He had a pistol, Temperance. I wonder which of your cousins’ husbands you would have preferred to have died that night.”
“Better you than him, Lord David.”
She hadn’t used his courtesy title in years, and judging by his flinch, her words had hit their mark.
“Apparently you haven’t noticed,” Temperance began, turning to fully face him, “but smuggling is illegal.”
“And punishable by instant death? At the hand of the governor’s son?”
“According to you two.”
Lord David answered with only a single syllable laugh, as if that fact were a mere inconvenience. She supposed it was, when one was rich and noble.
“Get out of my house,” Temperance muttered.
He forced on a smile. “I’m hosting this feast.”
“Well, I cannot stand to be in the presence of a murderer a moment longer.” She stalked from the room.
“Have some cake!” Lord David called after her, as if their conversation had been nothing more than typical party fare.
The feast occupied the whole of the dining room as well, so Temperance marched right out the front door to the porch.
It took all of two minutes to wish she’d had a better plan. A January night in Philadelphia was hardly the place for a fine gown. She had been too angry to pause for a cloak.
She began pacing, rubbing her arms. How long did she mean to stay out here? Surely Lord and Lady David would be among the last to leave.
She should go back inside and straight upstairs, but Lord David would certainly see her.
She would never forgive him for what he’d done. Never.
Temperance turned back to cross toward the door again when she spotted a man approaching. She tried to gauge how quickly she could make it to the door, in the event this man bore some ill will.
He turned at their walk, and Temperan
ce decided she’d never make the door. She shrank back into the shadows, hoping he wouldn’t notice her.
At the steps, the man kicked snow off his shoes. He was almost to the door when he glanced in her direction — and then quickly looked back. “Temperance? Is that you?”
She peered through the shadows at him. “Step into the light?”
He backed up a few paces to the light from the windows.
“Owen Randolph?” Her voice shook with the cold. She’d hardly seen him since they were children. What was he doing here?
“How do you do?”
“Cold.”
“Oh, ah.” Owen glanced around, then quickly shrugged out of his great coat. “Here.”
She allowed him to wrap the coat around her shoulders. She pulled its warmth tight around herself. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, your father and your . . . cousin? He said I could come. David?”
She scowled. “He’s only married to my cousin.”
“I see.”
Temperance tried mightily but couldn’t conjure a reason why Owen Randolph might have wangled an invitation from either of those people. “How did they come to invite you?”
“Ah, at the office. They said I should come?”
Naturally her father would be at his workplace, and Lord David lived in the flat above the law office. But that didn’t explain Owen’s presence. “And what were you doing there?”
“I’m studying law. From your father?”
Was he asking her? “How long have you done that?”
Owen squinted at her. “Two years.”
How had she not known this? And how had Owen managed that? Last she’d heard, he’d been a stable boy.
“Do you mean to go in?” Owen asked.
“No.” Her tone brooked no argument.
Owen hesitated. “Perhaps you should, though? Quite cold. That coat won’t be enough for long.”
Temperance glanced around. “Can you make sure he doesn’t see me?”
“Who?”
“Lord David,” she practically spat.
“Your cousin?” He quickly added, “In-law?”
“Yes.”
Owen was clearly mystified, but acquiesced. He opened the door and ushered her in. In one surprisingly deft move, he lifted the coat from her shoulders, used it to conceal her until she was on the stairs, and whirled away.