Chapter Sixteen
Riddleston was everything Helen hoped he would be. He was handsome, well-spoken, and so in love with Gillian that it nearly brought tears to Helen's eyes.
Oh yes, he would make her a wonderful husband. There was a quiet sincerity about him that was eminently appealing, and as the evening progressed, Helen was better able to understand why Oliver was so impressed with him. While Gillian tended to flit around the crowded room like a beautiful butterfly, Mr Riddleston took his time walking amongst the guests, stopping to speak to as many of them as he could and always with a kind word and a genuine smile. While Gillian was frequently sought out by other single gentlemen for dances, Mr Riddleston seemed perfectly content to watch from the side. But he always knew where she was. He was there, watchful, but never hovering, and Helen knew it was pride rather than possession that kept him glancing in her direction.
'Is he not a sweet man, Miss de Coverdale?' Gillian asked when the two of them at last had an opportunity to be alone. 'I admit, I did not expect to like him near so well as I do, but I find the more I come to know him, the more there is to admire about him.'
'He is a very likeable young man indeed,' Helen said, delighted at the note of happiness in Gillian's voice. 'I am more pleased for you than I can say. And you are to be married in a fortnight. How excited you must be.'
'Yes. I had originally thought the spring would be nice, but Nigel would like to be married by Christmas so that we can take up residence in London early in the new year. His mother and father keep a house in town and they have given it to us as a wedding present. Is that not exceedingly generous of them?'
'It is generous indeed.'
'And I expect you to come and visit us very often. You will come, won't you, Miss de Coverdale?' Gillian's eyes were softly beseeching. 'I should like that above all.'
'I shall do my very best,' Helen assured her. 'But you must remember that it is not always easy for a schoolmistress to leave her classes.'
'Then I must do everything I can to ensure that you do not remain a schoolmistress much longer! When you come to London, I shall introduce you to every handsome, eligible gentleman I know.'
Amused by the girl's emphatic if somewhat naive declaration, Helen began to laugh. 'Oh, Gillian, that is a very kind sentiment, but I doubt any of the handsome, eligible gentlemen you are likely to know will have any interest in making the acquaintance of a one-and-thirty-year-old schoolmistress from Steep Abbot.'
Gillian looked appalled. 'But how can you say that? Only look at the way the gentlemen are watching you tonight. Have you not noticed the way their eyes follow you around? Several perfectly amiable young men have asked me about you, and Sir Peter Rollings wishes to be introduced. He told me he thought you were quite the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.'
'What's this I hear, Gillie?' Oliver interrupted. 'Are you trying to lure Miss de Coverdale away? Mrs Guarding will not thank you for depriving her of yet another teacher.'
Gillian rolled her eyes. 'Really, Oliver. I would far rather see Miss de Coverdale married to a man who loves her than be locked away at some girls' school where she is forced to teach watercolours and Italian to a bunch of simpering young misses for the rest of her life. She is far too beautiful for that, don't you think?'
Helen blushed furiously. 'I am sure Mr Brandon has no opinion on the matter, Miss Gresham. But look there, I believe Mr Riddleston is attempting to secure your attention.'
Gillian turned and waved at the young man, who was indeed smiling and signalling in her direction. 'Yes, he wishes me to talk to his sister, the young lady standing there on his right. Amanda is a rather plain creature, but she has a sweet temper and I love her dearly. No doubt he will wish me to see to her Season once we are wed. But do not forget what I said, Miss de Coverdale.' Impulsively, Gillian reached up and kissed Helen on the cheek. 'I shall do everything I can to see that you are soon married as well. And thank you for being such a wonderful friend. I am so very glad you are here.' Then, in a rustle of silk skirts, she hurried away, leaving Helen, flushed and embarrassed, standing alone in the company of Oliver Brandon again.
'You must forgive Gillian for being a trifle outspoken,' Oliver said into the somewhat awkward silence. 'She tends to speak her mind about whatever happens to be on it at the time.'
'Yes. I suppose we must put it down to...the excitement of the evening,' Helen said, desperately trying to make light of the episode. 'She hardly knows what she is saying.'
'She is right about one thing, though. You are far too beautiful to remain a teacher for the rest of your life.'
Helen's pulse skittered as she opened her fan and plied it fervently to her cheeks. 'You are...too kind, sir.'
'I told you once before that kindness has very little to do with what I say to you, Miss de Coverdale.' Oliver clasped his hands behind his back in the gesture Helen had come to know so well. 'I am simply speaking the truth. You are a beautiful woman and there isn't a man in this room who doesn't know it.'
Helen swallowed hard. She knew she should offer some witty, sophisticated remark, but in the face of Oliver's compliment, she could think of nothing. What a pity. It seemed her newly reclaimed social skills had already deserted her.
'Gillian told me that...it was Mr Riddleston's wish that they marry before Christmas,' she said instead, saying the first thing that came to mind.
'Yes, he is anxious to get on with it. But then, as I told you, he has been in love with her for some time. Indeed, I think it was a case of love at first sight.'
Helen watched the young pair across the floor, and inadvertently, a soft sigh escaped her lips. 'I do hope it lasts, for both their sakes.'
'Oh, I think it will. It has happened in our family a number of times.'
'Yes, I remember you telling me that your sister and her husband fell in love that way.'
'Yes. As did I.'
A bolt of lightning striking the floor beside her could not have startled Helen more. The quietly offered words, spoken in a conversational tone of voice, caused her pulse to quicken and her breath to come in short gasps. 'I...beg your pardon?'
'You sound surprised, Miss de Coverdale. Did you not think I was the type who could fall in love at first sight?'
'I'm sure I have...no idea what type you are, Mr Brandon.' Oliver was in love? Oh, dear God, how could such a thing be true! Why hadn't Gillian told her? Surely the girl had known that her own stepbrother was harbouring a tendre for someone. Especially one that had been going on for some time. Why had she led her to believe there had been no one in his life?
'I must confess to being...surprised, Mr Brandon,' Helen stammered, fighting to keep her voice steady. 'Gillian did not...tell me you were involved with anyone.'
'She did not tell you because she did not know,' Oliver said with a smile. 'No one does. It happened a long time ago.'
'I see. And what of the...young lady?' she asked, forcing herself to say the words. 'How does she feel about your keeping silent for such a long time?'
'I have no idea,' Oliver replied. 'Because the young lady doesn't know how I feel either.'
Helen could barely hear him over the strange buzzing in her head. 'But how can that be, sir? If you were...in love with her, she must have had some indication as to your feelings?'
'In truth, she had none. Because at the time, she didn't know me from Adam.'
The buzzing was replaced by a dull roar. 'Surely there was something in the way you spoke to her—'
'I said not a word to the lady,' Oliver admitted quietly. 'It would not have been...appropriate at the time. Nor was I given an opportunity to do so. But the memory of her face and the manner of our first meeting has stayed with me to this very day.'
Helen wished she could think of something to say, but her mind had gone totally blank. What was she supposed to say upon learning that the man she had fallen in love with was in love with someone else?
'I know it sounds strange, Miss de Coverdale, but you have to understand
that my feelings were of the kind I thought best kept to myself,' Oliver continued as the silence between them lengthened. 'As I said, I was not even willing to acknowledge my own awareness of them at the time. And because so many years went by before I saw the lady again, I had no reason to believe they still existed. But then, under the most amazing of circumstances, I saw her again and I realised that, to my great astonishment, nothing had changed. J felt the same way about her as I had upon seeing her that very first time.' Oliver shook his head in wonderment. 'It was unsettling to say the least.'
Unsettling indeed, Helen echoed silently, aware that any pleasure she might have taken in the night was now completely gone. All she felt was sick at heart; numbed by the painful realisation that Oliver would never be anything to her but the most casual of acquaintances. Saddened, because she had foolishly allowed herself to believe since coming to Shefferton Hall that he held her in some esteem. Now, knowing that he did not, she wanted nothing more than to run away and hide before she made a complete fool of herself.
'Mr Brandon, would you please...excuse me? I find it very warm in the room all of a sudden.'
'Of course, Miss de Coverdale, but is everything all right? You seem a little distressed. Perhaps you would care to take a stroll on the terrace?'
'Yes. That would be...most welcome,' Helen said, grasping at anything that would serve as a means of escaping his company.
'Then allow me to escort you outside.'
She blanched. 'No! That is...thank you, sir, but the offer of an escort is not necessary. I can manage... quite well on my own.'
'I think not, dear lady,' Oliver said softly. 'Your face has suddenly turned the colour of your gown and I fear you are in danger of fainting away if you keep breathing like that. Come, allow me to escort you on to the terrace. A change of scenery and a breath of fresh air might be just the thing to revive you.'
Helen wanted to tell him it was going to take a great deal more than fresh air and scenery to revive her, but what would be the point? Nothing was going to change the fact that Oliver Brandon was in love with someone else.
Thankfully, the evening air did help, restore her equilibrium, if not her spirits. Helen closed her eyes and drew a few deep breaths of the cool night air into her lungs and felt the light-headedness begin to ease. But it did nothing to lessen the feelings of despair within her heart. That only grew stronger every time she looked at Oliver's dear face and knew that he was lost to her.
She gripped the stone balustrade hard, desperately trying to hide the trembling in her hands, knowing that the sooner she could get away from him, the better.
'There, do you not feel a little better for having come outside?' Oliver asked, his voice low and filled with concern.
Helen dropped her head to hide the expression in her eyes, and wished she might be anywhere but here. She did not even have the strength to look at him. 'Thank you, Mr Brandon, you are very kind to be so attentive. And yes, I...believe I am feeling...a little better. Forgive me. I am not used to crowds and it has been...a very long time since I attended a function like this. I think the excitement of the evening quite overwhelmed me.'
'Of course. Your reaction was only to be expected. But are you warm enough? There is a chill in the air tonight.'
'Thank you, I am fine. But it would probably be best if you were to...return to your guests, Mr Brandon. People will be wondering where you are.'
'Let them wonder. It is Gillian's celebration, not mine,' he reminded her. 'And right now, I don't care about anyone else, Miss de Coverdale.' He put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. 'I only care about you.'
Helen gasped, dismayed to feel tears trembling on her lashes. 'But you don't care. You are in love with...someone else. You just told me as much!'
His burning eyes held her still. 'Does that disturb you?'
'Yes. No! I mean.. .of course it doesn't disturb me.' She dashed her hand across her eyes, wiping the traitorous moisture away. 'Why should it?'
'Because my dear Miss de Coverdale, I am hoping that you are not as indifferent to me as you have been trying to make me believe.' His fingers tightened on her arms. 'Please tell me you aren't, amore.'
Stunned, Helen gazed up into his face. 'I beg your pardon?'
Slowly and seductively, Oliver's eyes slid over her face, lingering on her eyes before coming to rest briefly on her lips. 'Do you not know the word?'
'Of course I know the word. But...why would you call me your beloved when you have just finished telling me that you are...that you are...'
'In love with someone else? Why indeed? Unless it is because I thought it was time the young lady was made aware of it herself.'
Helen stared up at him, wondering if she had somehow fallen asleep and was dreaming all this. 'Mr Brandon, pray do not tease me. In my present state, I am ill-equipped to deal with the subtleties of your phrasing. Please, tell me what you mean—'
'I mean, sweet Helen, that you are the woman I'm in love with. The same woman I've been in love with for so many long, empty years. Do you find that so very hard to believe?'
At that moment, Helen was extremely grateful for the strength of his hands on her arms. Otherwise, she feared she might have sunk to the ground in a heap. Oliver Brandon was in love with her? With her?
'But...you thought I was...immoral,' she whispered as the tears began to roll down her cheeks. 'You accused me of having...a bad influence on Gillian.'
'Yes, because I had convinced myself you would. But in my heart, I knew differently.' He reached into his pocket and drew out his handkerchief. 'I never forgot the first time I saw you, Helen. That night, in the library, when you looked up and saw me, I knew then that something had happened to me. That the memory of your face would stay with me for the rest of my life. But I never put it down to my being in love with you.'
Helen sniffed. 'You didn't?'
'Of course not. I thought I had been bewitched by a pair of beautiful dark eyes.' He smiled as he gently wiped away the traces of her tears. 'I convinced myself you couldn't possibly be the kind of woman I wanted to marry because it seemed to me that we were different in so many ways. And yet, when I saw you again that morning at Mrs Guarding's Academy, I knew it to be a lie.'
'But when you spoke to me in the carriage,' Helen persisted, 'when you came to take me driving, you told me that I...that I—'
'I know what I said,' Oliver cut in. 'And I wish to God I could take back every single word I uttered. I never meant to hurt you, beloved. I think that in some way, I was still fighting what I was feeling for you. I couldn't deny that Fate had brought us back together again, but I was tempted to think of it as a cruel joke rather than the best thing that could have happened to me.' He reached for her hand and held it in his. 'Tell me I'm not harbouring foolish hopes, dearest. Tell me that you care for me, even if only a little. For even that will give me a reason to keep on trying to make you love me.'
'Oh, Oliver, you have no need of such foolish hopes,' Helen told him weakly. 'I love you more than you know. More than I can possibly tell you. But I never imagined you were in love with me. I never thought—'
It was as far as Helen got. Oliver silenced her words with a kiss of such soul-searing passion that it left her breathless and trembling with emotion. Everything and everyone else faded away as his lips closed over hers and his arms drew her close, bringing their bodies into intimate contact and arousing feelings and sensations that Helen had never experienced before. It was as though they were the only two people in the world. The only two people who mattered.
'I never want to hear that mentioned between us again,' Oliver said when at last he raised his head and gazed down into her eyes. 'I never want to hear you talk about Lord Talbot or your poor clergyman, or any other man who has ever spoken to you in a disrespectful way, lest I be tempted to seek out every one of them and challenge them all to a duel!'
'Dear me, challenge them all?' Helen's laughter escaped as a soft ripple of sound. 'If that is the
case, I fear you will be too busy fighting to spend any time with me.'
'Ah, but if you will have me, dearest Helen, I intend to spend the rest of my life as close to you as I am now. And I guarantee, there will be times when you may wish me far away, so devoted will my attentions be.'
'Never! I could never wish you far away from me again. In fact, if I had only one wish, it would be that you would not be more than ten paces from my side. I love you, Oliver. A separation of even a short time would be cruel punishment indeed.'
'Then...will you marry me, Helen?' he whispered, as his fingers touched her face and moved tenderly along her cheek. 'Will you consent to be my wife?'
Helen closed her eyes and leaned into his caress. 'I would marry you in an instant, beloved, but...I must ask if you have given this question the consideration it deserves.'
'What is there to consider, other than how we feel about each other?'
Helen sighed. 'There is much to consider, given that our positions in life are so different. You must know there are others who will not be as well pleased with your decision as I.'
'Others?' His brow darkened. 'What others?'
'Lady Endersley for one.'
'Lady Endersley be damned!'
'No, you must not say that, Oliver,' Helen said, gently pressing her fingers to his lips. 'She is not wrong to care about you, nor is she wrong to wish to see you marry well. She is your aunt, and she loves you. But by marrying me, you may risk losing her affection, and I would hate to be the cause of such a rift between you.'
Oliver stared at her for a long time. So long, in fact, that Helen began to wonder if he was indeed reflecting upon the wisdom of his choice. But when he spoke again, she knew that nothing had changed.
'Dearest Helen. With everything you say, you only make me love you more. You are not wrong in wishing to make me look beyond my own feelings. And you are not wrong in saying that others may not be pleased with my decision. But it is my decision to make, and our happiness that is at stake. I've found the woman I want to marry. She teaches watercolours and Italian at a girls' school in Steep Abbot. And if my aunt or any other members of my family will not receive her, then they shall not be received by me.' Oliver drew her close and with infinite tenderness cupped her chin between his fingers and tipped it back. 'I love this lady so very much. And if she will agree to have me, I intend to spend the rest of my life showing her exactly how much I do love her, in every way I can. Do you think, under the circumstances, that will be convincing enough?'
The Guardian's Dilemma Page 19