The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2)

by Alicia Quigley

  “Mrs. Lacey?’ asked Catherwood, bewildered.

  “I did not know that she was coming, but there must be a room somewhere,” said Malcolm in a low voice. He glanced at Estella, who was looking increasingly annoyed. “A nice room,” he added. “In the east wing.”

  “Where are your rooms?” purred Estella.

  “In the west wing.”

  Estella pouted. “It’s not as though your sister is unaware—” she began, but she was interrupted by the arrival of the housekeeper, Mrs. Macomber, who bobbed a curtsey.

  “Lord Wroxton would like Mrs. Lacey to have a room in the east wing,” Catherwood informed her.

  Malcolm glanced at Helena. “Definitely in the east wing,” he repeated.

  Mrs. Macomber looked from Mrs. Lacey to Malcolm, and then curtsied again. “Yes, my lord,” she said. “Would the Green Room do?”

  “Which one - the Green Room would be perfect,” said Malcolm. “By all means, put Mrs. Lacey in the Green Room.”

  “If you would come with me, ma’am,” said Mrs. Macomber.

  As she prepared to lead Estella up the staircase, Stephen strolled into the hallway. He took in the scene in one glance; Malcolm standing in the middle of the room, looking exasperated, while Helena stood to one side, intently gazing at everything except Estella, who was watching her speculatively. A smiled, hastily suppressed, crossed his face, and then he moved forward.

  “Mrs. Lacey, what a delightful surprise,” he said, taking Estella’s hand in his and bowing over it gracefully.

  “Everyone seems very startled to see me,” said Estella in a teasing voice. “You would almost think Malcolm doesn’t want me here.”

  “That would be impossible,” Stephen assured her. “Were you going to your room? Malcolm, escort Mrs. Lacey to her room. I will make sure that Miss Keighley is attended to.”

  Helena smiled at him gratefully. “I should return home. I—we—Lord Wroxton and I meant to discuss some business, but it is clear he is busy.”

  “I will be glad to escort you to the stables. Mrs. Lacey, I will see you at dinner.” Stephen bowed elegantly to Estella and then offered Helena his arm. Under Malcolm’s infuriated gaze, he swept her out of the door of Wroxton Hall.

  Helena gave a sigh of relief. “How glad I am you came along.”

  Stephen looked down at her, his eyes teasing. “I can only be grateful when a beautiful woman is pleased to see me.”

  Helena smiled back at him, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere. “That woman—”

  “Mrs. Lacey?” asked Stephen gently.

  “Yes, Mrs. Lacey,” agreed Helena. “Tell me about her.”

  “She is the wife of Mr. Robert Lacey,” he said promptly. “He owns lands near Bath. The family is very respectable; I believe they are related to Viscount Carlyle.”

  Helena gave a reluctant laugh. “That is not what I meant.”

  “I know. But I’m not sure any other information is mine to share with you.”

  “I’ve been told she is a very good friend of Lord Wroxton’s,” said Helena in a small voice.

  “They are friends, yes,” said Stephen. “You will have to ask Lord Wroxton how close they are.”

  Helena pondered his words. “That is not entirely fair of you. Surely you know what I mean.”

  “Indeed I do. But it would not be gentlemanly of me to speak of things that are Lord Wroxton’s to divulge.” He looked at Helena; her profile was turned to him, but he could see the discontent on her face.

  “Permit me to say, Miss Keighley, that I do not think that Lord Wroxton sent for Mrs. Lacey, or that he was pleased with her arrival,” he continued after a pause.

  “You must find me very silly,” said Helena, both slightly mollified by his words and mortified that Stephen clearly had some inkling of what had passed between her and Malcolm. “I have no claim on Lord Wroxton.”

  Stephen stared straight ahead. “I think you might, if you wished to,” he said in a neutral tone.

  She glanced at him quickly. “You don’t understand. Lord Wroxton and I—we—that is to say, I have not—nor has he,” she concluded, her voice trailing off.

  Stephen smiled slightly. “I understand perfectly. Miss Keighley, it is not my place to interfere, nor would I trust my judgment, were I you, for I am not much in the petticoat line. But I do not think that your—friendship—with Lord Wroxton will be overset by the appearance of Mrs. Lacey.”

  They had reached the stables, and paused in the courtyard. “But he stayed with her,” Helena said abruptly.

  “She is his guest; he is obliged to be polite. I imagine, if I had not appeared, he would have found some very rude way to fob her off on someone else.”

  Helena looked down at the ground. “Thank you for escorting me, Mr. Delaney.”

  “Certainly.” Stephen turned to one of the grooms. “Bring Miss Keighley’s horse,” he ordered.

  “You don’t have to wait,” said Helena. “I’m sure you can find better entertainment than hanging about the stables with me.”

  “Not at all. It would be rude to abandon you here, and I find your company amusing.”

  “You do?”

  “Miss Keighley, you sell yourself short. If my friend had not been monopolizing your time with his ball and plots to capture free traders, I might very well have tried to cut him out.”

  Helena laughed. “Don’t try to gammon me, Mr. Delaney.”

  “Not at all. I am most sincere. But I am quite terrified of Malcolm, you see.”

  That brought another peal of laughter from Helena. As the happy sound rang out across the courtyard, Stephen smiled down at her. They presented a contented picture as Malcolm rounded the corner and entered the stable yard. He paused, a thundercloud gathering on his brow.

  Helena’s horse was brought up by a groom, and as Stephen turned to assist her in mounting, he caught sight of his friend.

  “Oh, is that you, Mal?” he asked casually. “What are you doing here?”

  “Mrs. Macomber is taking Mrs. Lacey to her room,” said Malcolm, an edge to his voice. “I might ask you the same thing.”

  “I waited with Miss Keighley until her horse was saddled,” said Stephen mildly. “It seemed the polite thing to do.”

  He moved to throw Helena up into the saddle, and Malcolm stepped hastily in front of him. Stephen stepped back a pace with an amused grin, and Helena looked up at the earl through her lashes.

  “This was not necessary, my lord.”

  “Helena—blast it, Miss Keighley,” he said, glancing at Stephen. “I need to talk to you. Will you come to Wroxton Hall tomorrow?”

  “I’m not certain,” said Helena demurely. “Your visitors are arriving, and you will need to entertain them.”

  “I will require your assistance with that. Malcolm’s voice was grim. “Rowena arrives soon, as well, and you will wish to see her.”

  “Do send a note when Lady Brayleigh arrives,” said Helena. “I will certainly come visit then.”

  Malcolm gritted his teeth. “This, my girl, is not over.”

  “If you will help me to mount my horse, I must be on my way,” said Helena.

  Instead of cupping his hands for her foot, to toss her up, Malcolm wrapped his hands around her waist, lifting her effortlessly into the saddle. She felt a tingle of warmth at the touch of his hands, and resolutely turned her thoughts elsewhere. After adjusting her stirrup, she looked down at Malcolm holding the reins of her horse, keeping her from moving forward.

  “My lord?”

  “If you don’t come here tomorrow, I will seek you out.”

  “That is your choice,” she said gently. “If you will release me?”

  Malcolm reluctantly let go of the reins, and Helena urged her horse out of the stable yard without a backward glance.

  Malcolm turned to Stephen. “What the hell do you mean by making her laugh?” he demanded.

  Stephen raised his hands placatingly. “Don’t call me out, Mal,” he protested. “I only sou
ght to lighten her mood. She wasn’t expecting your mistress to appear today, I gather.”

  “I wasn’t expecting my mistress to turn up today—or ever,” said Malcolm angrily.

  “You’ve made a pretty hash of this,” observed Stephen.

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make it any worse by flirting with Miss Keighley,” said Malcolm coldly.

  “Don’t blame it on me, my boy. This is a shambles entirely of your own making. I wanted to see the poor girl smile; no need to pull my cork over it. You’re the one who made her unhappy, not me.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “Damn it. I’d appreciate it if you stop trying to help me.”

  “I wasn’t trying to help you, I was trying to ease Miss Keighley’s obvious discomfort at Estella’s presence,” said Stephen frankly. “You will have to help yourself; she’s not the woman to play your games.”

  “I know it.” Malcolm gazed after Helena’s retreating figure. “My hand is not yet played.”

  “I wish you luck. You’ll need it. You can’t cheat your way out of this one, Mal.”

  The two men strolled back to the Hall. Malcolm was lost in thought much of the way, but as they walked up the steps to the terrace, Stephen found his voice.

  “What will you do about Estella?”

  “I must talk to her now,” said Malcolm. “There’s no point in putting it off.”

  “I don’t envy you that conversation.”

  “I’ve had many of them,” said Malcolm, cheerfully. He gave his friend a half smile. “Do you mean to take her on?”

  “Egad, no,” said Stephen. “Mrs. Lacey is a damn fine woman, but I’m far too lazy to keep her in check. She’d run roughshod over me. Come find me when you’re done; I’ll be in the library with the brandy decanter.”

  Malcolm laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. He turned to a footman. “Where is Mrs. Lacey?” he inquired.

  “In her room, my lord,” said the man, staring stolidly ahead.

  Malcolm exchanged a glance with Stephen, who raised his eyebrows.

  “Perhaps privacy would be best,” murmured Malcolm. With a nod, he headed for the hall.

  Ten minutes later Malcolm had, after twice asking servants, located the Green Room. He gazed at the oak door for a moment, and then raised his hand and knocked. After a time it opened, and Mrs. Lacey’s maid stood in the doorway.

  “Good afternoon, Midgley,” he said. “Is Mrs. Lacey in?”

  The maid smiled at him welcomingly and stood aside, allowing him to enter. He glanced about at the elegant room, its walls lined with emerald green silk, the dark furniture carved into exquisite curlicues. He was faintly glad that he and Helena had never enjoyed a rendezvous here.

  Estella stood in the center of the room. She had exchanged her traveling clothes for a dinner dress of glowing red silk that flattered her brunette tresses and rosy complexion. Her dark hair fell in ringlets around her lovely face, and as she turned to him, her cherry red lips opened in a smile of delight.

  “There you are,” she said welcomingly. “I thought perhaps something was wrong. You acted so oddly when I arrived.”

  “I was surprised to see you.”

  “But pleasantly so, I hope,” she cooed.

  “It’s always a pleasure to see you,” said Malcolm unhurriedly. He glanced at the maid.

  Estella dimpled. “Midgley, you may go. I’ll ring for you if I need you.”

  The maid stopped in her task of removing Estella’s dresses from their trunks to the wardrobe and, with a sly smile at her mistress, left the room.

  “There, we’re all alone now,” said Estella cheerfully. “I have missed you, Malcolm.” She approached him, hands outstretched.

  Malcolm stepped back hastily, and waved at a nearby chair. “Please sit down, Estella.”

  “Sit down?” Estella glanced up at him, perplexed.

  “Yes, I wish to talk to you.”

  “Talk? Again?” Estella sank into the chair, mystified. “What is there to talk about?”

  Malcolm looked down at her pensively. “I wish you had not come here, Estella.”

  “Why ever not? What better opportunity for us is there than a house party? I don’t know why we never thought of it before. It’s so much easier than sneaking in and out of each other’s homes in London.”

  “I suppose so,” he said, with a hint of humor. “But I did not plan on your presence, Estella, and it is decidedly awkward.”

  “Oh, your sister will not care,” said Estella breezily. “She is unfashionably in love with that brooding husband of hers, and will scarcely notice us.”

  “It is not Rowena, it is me. Estella, I regret to inform you that our—arrangement—is at an end.”

  “What?” Estella blinked up at him. She gave a silvery laugh. “Oh Malcolm, you are so amusing. For a moment I actually believed you.”

  Malcolm gazed at her, something implacable in his eyes. “I am not being amusing, Estella. I am sorry I have to tell you in this way, but it is true.”

  “Did you hear about Lord Queshire?” she asked. “I can’t imagine how you may have. But it was nothing, Malcolm—a mere diversion.”

  “No, I did not know of Lord Queshire,” said Malcolm cordially. “Though I have no issue with your diversions, Estella. You are free to do as you choose. It is just that now you are free of me as well.”

  Estella stood and glared at him, her hands on her hips. “Then why did I come here? I expected—well, you know what I expected. I might have stayed in London, and not sat in a stuffy carriage for hours, only to be insulted when I arrived.”

  “I have not insulted you. I did not invite you here; you came without my bidding.”

  “Because I thought you wished me to be here! You might have told me,” she pouted.

  Malcolm nodded. “I must apologize for that as well. I should have let you know, but a letter seemed so impersonal.”

  Estella eyed him speculatively. “What is this about? Have you met another woman here in the wilds of Kent? I can’t imagine who it might be.” A moment passed, and then she drew in her breath. “You seemed very friendly with Miss Keighley not an hour ago. Really, Malcolm, the girl is ruined. How ridiculous if you should have a tendre for her. You will be a laughingstock.”

  Malcolm glanced around the room. “I believe that when I was a boy this room was the Yellow Room,” he observed. “That must be why I could not place it. I must say I found the yellow more charming; this side of the house gets so little sun, and the green makes it much darker.”

  Estella stamped her foot. “We were speaking of Miss Keighley,” she said sharply.

  “You were speaking of Miss Keighley,” Malcolm countered. “I was not.”

  Estella eyed him angrily. “You cannot possibly mean to marry her. Are you in love with her?”

  “My emotions, dear Estella, are none of your concern. Again, while I do not think I have caused you pain, I regret the circumstances. I have been less than thoughtful, and therefore less than a gentleman. I hope in time you will forgive me.”

  Estella opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again, noting something uncompromising in his manner. She shrugged and turned away. “Very well, I see that you are quite serious. It is very dull of you, Malcolm. I had not thought to see you turn into a country squire.”

  “Nor had I,” said Malcolm. “Yet here I am, tending to the needs of my tenants and fretting about smugglers. As you say, I am far too boring a fellow for you. You are, of course, welcome to stay for the ball; indeed, I hope you do, for there will be talk if you leave, and neither of us desires that. Would you like me to send an invitation to Queshire?”

  Estella gave another tinkling laugh. “You always amuse me, Malcolm. Do you truly think that we cannot, just for this week, enjoy each other’s company?” She peeked up at him, but saw no answering welcome in his face. “Oh, very well,” she said crossly. “I will stay.”

  “Thank you,” said Malcolm cordially. “I will have an invitation sent t
o his lordship.” With a last rueful smile, he turned and left.

  Chapter 34

  The next afternoon Helena stood idly on the terrace of Keighley Manor, pondering the turn her life had taken. She had spent a nearly sleepless night, imagining Malcolm in Mrs. Lacey’s arms in the Green Room, and had risen early, going down to the stables where she had stayed until even Macklin seemed to be tired of her presence. She had then spent an hour going over the next week’s menus with the cook, until that woman had dismissed her with a kindly smile and the comment that she surely wanted to make herself pretty for his lordship’s visit.

  Mortified, Helena went to her room where, remembering Malcolm’s statement that he would come to her if she did not venture to Wroxton, she allowed Sherburne to dress her in a very becoming day dress of blue muslin, ornamented with broderie anglaise at the neckline and hem. But an hour had passed since then, and while she had attempted to review the accounts, her mind refused to focus, and a stroll in the gardens had left her not just bored, but annoyed with herself for not being able to put Wroxton from her mind.

  She heard the sound of boots on stone and swung around, not sure how she to respond to the earl’s presence. It was not Malcolm who stood before her, however, but Arthur, his hair ruffled from riding, a happy smile on his face.

  “Oh.” She realized that she sounded disappointed. “It is you, Arthur.”

  “Indeed it is,” he said cheerfully. “What a glorious day. I wonder that you are here, lazing about on the terrace. Surely you should be at Wroxton by now? It is mid-afternoon.”

  “I shan’t be going to the Hall today,” she said quietly. “I have been neglecting Keighley Manor these past weeks and there is much to be done.”

  “Nonsense. The estate runs as smoothly as a watch, mostly due to your past efforts. But Wroxton is still trying to set things right, and needs your help. He asked after you just now.”

  Helena glanced up quickly. “You were at Wroxton Hall?”

  “I rode over there late this morning; I’ve been told I’m welcome anytime and thought it was a lovely day for a ride. The guests for the ball have begun arriving; I met a dashed pretty woman—what was her name?” He pondered a moment. “Mrs. Lacey.”