The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2)

by Alicia Quigley

  “That you are in love with him,” Damaris finished for her.

  “How can I be in love with someone so glib and irresponsible?” asked Helena miserably.

  “There’s talk that he has already started a number of improvements on the estate, and the tenants are very pleased with his actions,” said Damaris. “He is no longer the young man who behaved so foolishly; his time on the Continent must have taught him a thing or two.”

  “Yes, how to play cards and seduce women,” Helena retorted.

  “He may well have known that before he left,” teased Damaris. “But Helena, to be the Countess of Wroxton would be no mean thing, and you love him. He might make you very happy.”

  “I would rather be unmarried—or married to a man I did not love—than have to watch him be with other women,” said Helena quietly.

  Damaris smiled sadly at her. “I ask only that you give it some thought,” she said. “But enough of this. You have your own decision to make. Tell me about the shops instead; did you buy a dress for the ball? I have ordered the most lovely gown from my modiste in London.”

  Chapter 31

  Helena allowed herself to be distracted by talk of dresses and jewelry, and they spent the next hour chatting about the upcoming party. Damaris did not mention the earl again, and Helena tried her best not to think of him. But in the carriage on the way home, her thoughts wandered back to his golden hair, and the glinting smile in his blue eyes. She wondered if he was disappointed when he came to the manor and found her gone.

  Thoughts of how Wroxton might have amused himself in her absence led quickly to the memory of Lord Denby’s words, and Malcolm’s visit to Mrs. Featherhaugh’s home. Damaris, she realized, had heard those stories as well. He had gone from their tryst in the Queen’s Room to the arms of Mrs. Featherhaugh. Not only that, he had taken Arthur with him, and doubtless introduced her innocent brother to all kinds of debauchery. Helena twisted her hands in her lap, ignoring the questioning look on Sherburne’s face.

  By the time they returned to Keighley Manor, Helena had worked herself into a splendid temper. It was abundantly clear to her that Lord Wroxton was toying with her. No doubt he thought it very amusing that she had fallen so quickly into his snare. Having known him only a little longer than three weeks, she had allowed him to do with her as he chose. He must think very little of her, she realized with a sense of chagrin.

  When she emerged from the carriage, Helena stormed up the stairs to the house. She would write to his lordship immediately, informing him that she would no longer help him in planning his ball. He had a household full of servants who could do that for him. From today forward, her interactions with him would be distant, and related only to stopping the free traders.

  With these thoughts filling her mind, she marched into the hall and stopped abruptly at the sight of Arthur and Malcolm chatting easily in the door of the drawing room. The earl seemed to be particularly comfortable, his lithe body emphasized by the form-fitting coat and buckskin riding breeches he wore. Helena stopped, dismayed to find her conviction shaken. It would have been far easier to write a note than explain her intentions in person.

  “Ah, there you are, Helena,” said Arthur. “How fortunate that you’ve returned. Wroxton was just about to leave, but now he can see you after all. He has some questions about the musicians, and I had to admit I had no idea what he was talking about.”

  “Oh?” said Helena icily.

  Arthur gave her a perplexed look. “I don’t mean to disappoint you by not knowing about the local fiddlers. I must be off; I’ll leave you two to sort it out.”

  He shook Malcolm’s hand, and dropping a kiss on Helena’s cheek, left them with a cheery wave of his hand. Helena found herself staring into Malcolm’s amused eyes.

  “I am lucky you returned just now,” he said. “Otherwise, I might not have seen you until tomorrow.”

  “I have plans for tomorrow,” she replied defiantly.

  “Do you?” Malcolm surveyed the heightened color in her cheeks, and glanced at the footman, who was standing stoically against the wall, staring determinedly off into space. “Then we must speak today. Would you care to take a turn in the garden with me?”

  “No, I would not,” said Helena firmly.

  Malcolm’s lips twitched slightly and he took a step closer to her. Helena stood her ground.

  “I have no notion why you are behaving like this, though I have no doubt it is something I have done,” he murmured, leaning in close so she could hear him. “If you do not come with me now, I will have to pick you up and carry you.”

  “You would not!” she gasped.

  “Try me.”

  Helena met his gaze, and saw only determination and a touch of infuriating amusement there. “Very well. One turn around the garden.”

  He offered her his arm, and she took it gingerly, annoyed at the frisson of excitement that shot through her as she did so. She was quite sure he was aware of her feelings as he led her out to the terrace, then down the steps into the garden.

  Malcolm was silent at first and Helena stole a glance at him. His profile was turned to her as he ambled with her down the graveled path, apparently enjoying the warmth of the sunshine and the pleasant view before him. A few minutes passed in silence, and finally she could bear it no longer.

  “Did you want to ask me about the musicians?” she demanded.

  “The musicians can go hang themselves,” he replied pleasantly.

  “Then why are we out here in the garden?”

  “Hush. In a minute, I feel sure we are going to have a lively conversation, and I don’t wish to be in full view of the house.”

  Helena stewed silently as Malcolm led her to the yew tunnel. They stepped into its shade, broken here and there by shafts of golden light slipping between the leaves that shook lightly in the breeze. About halfway through, Malcolm stopped and turned to her.

  “I missed you today,” he said gently.

  She hunched one shoulder at him. “You saw me yesterday, and will doubtless see me again tomorrow. I cannot think what difference it made.”

  “It made a great deal of difference to me. Why did you go into Folkestone so abruptly? You made no mention of it yesterday.”

  “You do not order my comings and goings, my lord.”

  “I merely asked a question. Did I reproach you in any way?”

  “No,” she admitted reluctantly. There was a moment of silence as he regarded her calmly. “I decided to buy a dress for the ball,” she finally said.

  “You didn’t need to do that. I would be pleased to obtain one from London for you. I know an excellent modiste.”

  Helena’s ire, which had begun to fade, returned with a rush at his words. Of course he would know a first rate modiste, she thought. No doubt he had bought clothes for dozens of women.

  “I can purchase my own dresses,” she snapped. “Allow me to disabuse you of the notion that you have the ordering of my life.”

  “I’m sure no man will ever have the ordering of your life,” he said with a faint smile, which only enraged her further.

  “I am not one of your soiled doves to worship at your feet, nor will I allow a man whose besmirched reputation is a watchword among the dissolute to have the dressing of me. I do not wish to resemble a vulgar gaming house proprietress,” she bit out.

  Malcolm grew very still, and Helena eyed him warily, fearing that she might have gone too far.

  “You are infuriating,” he said finally, his voice still cordial. “By what right do you scold me?”

  “You think you can come here and—and use me, and I will be docile and complacent,” she replied heatedly.

  “I have no expectation of docility on your part. However, I am confused as to what exactly we are talking about. Pray enlighten me.”

  “You were seen at Mrs. Featherhaugh’s!” Helena burst out. “Not only that, you took Arthur with you.”

  “Ah. It did him no harm, I promise,” Malcolm assured her. “I
believe we agreed I would not corrupt your brother. Del kept an eye on him. It will stand him in good stead to know what such places are like.”

  “It is not only Arthur—it is you!” she said. “Why would you go to such a place? All the world knows what happens at Mrs. Featherhaugh’s!”

  Macolm’s lips twitched slightly as he surveyed her indignant face. “What is it that you know goes on there?” he asked pleasantly.

  “Gambling, and drinking, and—and other things,” she spat out.

  “Other things?” he prompted.

  “You know very well what I mean.” Helena crossed her arms, refusing to be drawn.

  “I suppose I do. But I will have plain speaking between us, Helena. You accuse me of going to the home of a notorious widow and doing rather more than merely gambling for a few hours. In fact, you believe I sampled the wares of some bits o’ muslin. Is that it?”

  She glared up at him but did not speak.

  “You haven’t answered me,” he said, unperturbed.

  “Yes, that is precisely it,” she said. “You say you wish to marry me, and then you go to such a place. Everyone is speaking of it.”

  “Everyone? I wonder who told you this tale. Who did you see today in Folkestone, Helena?”

  She bit her lip and looked away.

  “Was it Denby?” he asked quietly.

  Helena nodded slowly, and Malcolm gave a harsh laugh. “Another matter I need to settle with his lordship. The list grows long. But that is for another time. Now, however, it is obvious that you feel yourself ill-used by me. As it happens, I did not take advantage of the amusements Mrs. Featherhaugh offered me. But if I had, what difference could it possibly make? I have asked you to marry me, more than once, and you have flung it back in my face each time. What you said to me only minutes ago should be repeated; you do not order my comings and goings. If you had agreed to wed me, I would be answerable to you for my behavior. But if you are not beholden to me, then neither am I to you.”

  Helena flushed as the truth of his words hit home. What was she to him, after all? “You are right,” she said stiffly. “I have refused you, and therefore have no claim upon you.”

  “You can accept my offer any time you choose.” His voice was gentle. “I would then be only too happy to spend all my time with you.”

  “Acquit me of trying to rein you in, my lord. I deserved your rebuke.”

  “What, are you so demoralized?” he teased. “That is not the Helena I know. I think I prefer it when you scold me.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes troubled. “Everyone is talking about us,” she said after a moment. “The servants, Damaris—even Denby—seem to know that we are—involved.”

  Malcolm sighed. “I feared that would happen. But there is little we can do. If our plot is to succeed, needs must we spend time together. Not that I regret it. Do you?”

  Helena struggled with an answer. “No,” she finally said.

  “No doubt Bulkeley is reporting back to Denby on our doings. I regret the blow to your reputation, of course. If you wish, I can be more distant.”

  Helena fought down a rising sense of panic. Malcolm was offering her what, only moments ago, she had thought she wanted, but the idea of not seeing him each day made her feel desolate. The ball was only a week away, and afterwards there would be no reason for him to remain in Kent; he would return to London, and she would soon be a distant memory. She might as well enjoy her time with him while she could.

  “I do not care what Denby thinks of me,” she said, “and I have no reputation to lose.”

  “You keep saying that, but I would not want to harm you in any way,” replied Malcolm carefully.

  “I know.” Helena turned away for a moment. “Why did you go to Mrs. Featherhaugh’s?” she asked, unable to help herself.

  Malcolm laughed. “I told you Denby lost a large sum of money gambling, did I not?”

  “You did.” Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Was it to you?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh. How clever of you. You might have told me.”

  “I could not propose my plan to you until I was sure I could beat Denby at the tables. You would have been angry had I told you beforehand, and I have been treated to your reaction when you learned afterwards,” he said pensively.

  “You must find me very difficult,” said Helena slowly.

  “I find you delightful.” Malcolm wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her to his side. “But you know that.”

  Helena relaxed into him for a moment, then withdrew slightly. “Was it necessary to take Arthur with you? He is only a boy, and I do not want him to cultivate the vice of gambling.”

  Malcolm chuckled. “You need have no fears for your brother, my dear; he had little interest in the various amusements on display. So, now you know why I was at Mrs. Featherhaugh’s. Do I not deserve a reward for going into a den of vice in your service?”

  “Do you think me foolish enough to believe you went there only for me?”

  “I wish you would believe it, as it is true.” Malcolm drew her close again and raised one hand to tug at the bow of her bonnet. The satin ribbons slid open, and he pulled the fashionable confection off her glistening curls and dropped it casually on the ground. “I tell you honestly, Helena, I found it damned dull. The charms and risks of gambling in Folkestone pale in comparison to other cities I have visited, while no woman there could hold a candle to you. You are doing some very odd things to my notion of a pleasant evening.”

  “Nonsense,” protested Helena, but was distracted from their argument when he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. A little sigh of pleasure escaped her as he worked his way up to her ear and then across her cheek. How she had missed him today, she thought. She would be quite infuriated at the thought, she thought dimly, if only he were not kissing her so splendidly.

  Malcolm’s lips pressed feather light on her closed eyelids, before coming to rest on Helena’s waiting lips. He touched them gently, once, twice, sipping at her, and then returning, asked for entrance, which she willingly granted. The meltingly languid sensation of their tongues was almost too compelling, she thought somewhat despairingly, as her body responded to his kisses, her breasts swelling against her bodice.

  Wroxton let his hands glide down from her shoulders to her hips, pressing them against the bulge growing in his breeches, hinting of satisfaction to come. Helena responded ardently, returning his kisses, and then turning her head to nip at his chin, and then kiss the side of his neck, as she put her hands inside his jacket to clasp him closer.

  Malcolm kissed her lingeringly again, and then straightened up, giving her a light smack on the rump.

  “That’s enough, my sweet,” he said carelessly. “Mr. Waylesworth is riding over to join us for dinner at Wroxton Hall, and it would be very rude to keep him waiting.”

  Helena looked at him in shock, conscious of her wayward body demanding more of the earl’s skillful touch. A wave of disappointment washed over her.

  “Can you not stay a few minutes?” she whispered. “It doesn’t have to take long.”

  He ran a finger along her collarbone. “Wanton,” he murmured. “Abstinence is good for the soul, my dear. You missed your chance today. Only think how much more eager you will be for me tomorrow. I know I will be pondering it.”

  Helena closed her eyes, torn between her blatant need for him and chagrin that he could read her so clearly. She summoned up her pride and ignored the desire coursing through her veins. “What a pity that you must go, Wroxton,” she said, stepping back from him. “I hope the three of you have a pleasant evening.”

  “Four. I invited Arthur as well.”

  Helena struggled for a moment with her emotions, and then grinned. “Well played, my lord,” she said.

  Malcolm gave her a look of injured innocence. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  Helena raised a hand to cup him, and felt a thrill or power as he instantly hardened. “Two can play at that gam
e,” she said. “I will be thinking of you tonight, alone in my bed. While you and Mr. Delaney play cards with my brother and Mr. Waylesworth, you can contemplate what you have missed.”

  If Helena thought to defeat Malcolm, she was disappointed. “I will indeed,” he promised. He placed her hand on his arm and led her back to the manor.

  Chapter 32

  If Helena was nervous the next day when she arrived at Wroxton Hall she didn’t show it, and the earl greeted her with a calm courtesy that set her at ease. He gravely discussed the types of flowers that would be available the week of the ball, and acquiesced with her recommended varieties. He lounged politely in a chair, nodding, as she discussed the dinner to be served before the ball with the housekeeper, Mrs. Macomber, and even stirred himself to request the addition of turbot bercy aux champignons to the menu.

  “I had it once, in Copenhagen,” he said mildly, when Helena glanced at him in surprise. “I asked my hostess what it was called.”’

  “Did she give you the recipe?” she asked tartly.

  “Not that one, no,” he murmured. “But I feel sure Mrs. Macomber will rise to the occasion.”

  The housekeeper made some reassuring sounds, and Helena, her eyes sparkling with amusement, turned back to her lists.

  “I think two tureens of soup will be fine with the fish,” said Helena as Mrs. Macomber nodded, “one white and one brown. Do you prefer a roasted leg of mutton, or turkey with puree of chestnut?”

  “Hmmm?” Malcolm stirred, his mind pulled away from his contemplation of the auburn curls that clustered against Helena’s slender neck.

  Helena stifled a laugh. “Turkey, or mutton?”

  “Are those the only choices?”

  “We could have partridges a l’Espagnole,” she answered, her eyes dancing.

  “Whatever pleases you.” He watched for a moment as Helena’s slender hands moved the pen delicately across the page, and then stood abruptly. “I’m bored,” he complained. “I’ve listened to this discussion for what must be hours now. Come outside with me.”

  Helena looked up, surprised, and Mrs. Macomber quickly slid the papers out from under her hands.