by Dawn Brower
“Never,” he replied instantly. “It’s more that I’m concerned...”
“You needn’t be. This is nothing new, and I’ve grown rather accustomed to it.”
Dash frowned at her dismissal. He hated that she’d grown so comfortable without the amenities other ladies took for granted. He couldn’t wait to remove her from the duke’s household and bring her into his own. Of course, he still had to convince her of the wisdom of his plan. He’d hoped to use this trip to form one. Perhaps the way things had turned out was far better though. He got a lot of uninterrupted time with Helena on their trip to Scotland. Everything about it was improper according to society’s standards.
“How do you think my aunt will react to us arriving together?”
She tilted her head considerately. “I can’t say. I’m barely acquainted with her. It’s been a number of years since she’s visited London, and even then, she didn’t pay me much mind. My mother was happy to have her visit, and repaid it in kind once. They correspond regularly, but neither one seems inclined to travel much.” Helena lifted her hand and tapped her chin curiously. “What do you believe will happen?”
“Unlike your mother,” he started. “I’ve visited my aunt often enough to know her castle well. She’s a good soul and rather set in her ways. The last time I made the trip, she berated me for my lack of married state. I assured her I’d consider taking a wife when I was good and ready.” He frowned. “I fear she’ll take our arrival as a declaration on our parts to rectify what she deemed wrong.”
“Really?” Helena scrunched her eyebrows together pensively. “How interesting. We’ll set her straight, of course. We’ve just become friends—marriage would be rushing things a bit.”
He didn’t think so. If she agreed, he’d marry her before they left Scotland—it would be easy enough to do there. They didn’t have the restrictions England had about reading the banns. Their marriage could take place and then, when they returned, he could take her to his home instead of her father’s. He rather liked that idea.
“How long are you planning on visiting with Lady Scarsbury?”
“None of this was my idea,” she admitted. “My mother got this crazy notion in her head that if I went to visit her friend I’d find a husband along the way. They’re desperate to marry me off, though I can’t say why. I’m not much of a burden financially when I never spend any funds or ask for pin money.”
How peculiar... Though if it was up to him, the duchess would get her wish. Dash wanted to marry Helena; however, convincing her of his sincerity would be a major feat. He hadn’t exactly been a proper gentleman where she was concerned. “Money isn’t the issue, I’d guess. They want you out of the house more for the peace of mind than anything else. The burden is probably more that you’re not settled, and they’d thought you would be by now.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” she conceded. “But it doesn’t make me feel loved.”
He’d love her if she let him. The more time he spent in her company, he grew into a maudlin beast. Helena had turned him into a romantic sap practically overnight. Something he never believed possible, yet there they were: him fawning over her like a quixotic, maybe even poetic, fool. “I don’t presume to understand your parents’ motives. I could be wrong, but I doubt they don’t love you.”
“I suppose in their own way they do.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. “But I’ll never know for certain. They’re not affectionate people, and it would be too embarrassing to outright ask.”
“Ah,” he said diplomatically. “That does make things difficult. I suppose you’ll have to accept them for who they are then. Not much else you can do.”
“True,” she agreed. “Is that the castle in the distance?”
Helena was peering out the carriage window. Dash leaned over and took in the sight she already surveyed. The castle did indeed loom in the distance. They’d be at Scarsbury in no time at all. Then things would change between them. There was a slight chance Helena wouldn’t be as friendly with another person around. He hoped not, but prepared himself nonetheless.
“Indeed,” he replied, mostly because it seemed expected. “You never did say how long you were staying.”
“Oh,” she said noncommittally. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”
As with everything between them thus far, he’d have to follow her lead. He’d stay as long as she did. Even if he had stated he’d not pursue her. There was no point to remain at Scarsbury without her. They’d made progress, and he fully believed at some point she would come to him. He had to remain patient.
DASHVILLE HAD BEEN rather pleasant on the remainder of the trip. She almost forgot why she was supposed to hate him. Given enough time, she might even start to enjoy spending time with him. Who was she kidding? She did like him—more than she probably should. The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the castle. A flurry of servants came out to greet them. One of them swung the carriage door open and Dashville stepped out, then turned to assist her. His hand felt warm even through her gloves.
“Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He smiled warmly. “Shall we go inside?”
She nodded, and they headed toward the entrance as the servants worked to unload their trunks. Helena didn’t envy them the task of carrying them inside. They all were rather heavy, and she wouldn’t have been able to lift them herself.
Helena and Dashville entered the castle. The foyer was flanked by two large staircases. The balustrade at the top connected them together with grandiose ornate wooden balusters. The long hall was decorated with sconces on the stone wall, and a grand crimson rug embroidered with gold that covered most of the floor. The castle, thus far, was both intimidating and fascinating all at once.
“Dashville,” a female said, surprise in her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I sent word,” he replied. “Did you not receive my missive?”
She shook her head and hugged him. “I did not. The mail is probably delayed. Who’s this lovely lady?” The older woman turned toward her. “Lady Helena?” She lifted a brow and then glanced at Dashville. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“I take it you didn’t receive word from mother,” Helena stated.
“I did not,” she confirmed. “The mail must be delayed quite a bit. Why are you traveling together?”
That was unacceptable. She’d never missed a column, and if she couldn’t rely on the mail, how could she ensure it arrived on time? Thankfully, she’d been able to post her last one at the coaching inn before they left, but apparently even that one might not arrive in time for the next release. To make matters worse—Helena didn’t like the way that Lady Scarsbury was glancing from Dashville and then back to her. Did she think there was something between them? “It was unavoidable,” Helena replied.
“My carriage needed repairs,” Dashville added. “Lady Helena was kind enough to allow me to join her. We met en route.”
“I see.” Lady Scarsbury smiled. “Since I failed to receive your notice, I’m afraid rooms aren’t quite prepared for you. I’ll have the housekeeper see to that now. Please make yourself comfortable until I return, and I’ll expect more in the ways of an explanation when I do.”
With those words, she turned and left them in the foyer. Helena had never been to Scarsbury Castle and wasn’t sure where exactly they were to go. She turned toward Dashville and raised a brow. “That went well.”
He frowned. “I’m afraid we’re going to be interrogated later. We might as well do as she suggested. Follow me. We’ll hide in the library. That way, it’ll take her longer to find us.”
Her lips quirked upward. “Are you afraid of a little slip of a woman?”
“Darn right I am. She has something brewing inside her head... It makes me nervous.”
Helena understood. She got the same vibe herself and thought perhaps she shouldn’t have invited Dashville to travel with her. The countess had the wrong ide
a about them—of that, she was certain. Lady Scarsbury would have them married to each other if they stayed.
For the first time though, the idea of marriage didn’t terrify Helena. As long as it was to Dashville—she’d always been attracted to him. Something changed between them over the course of the past few weeks. The direction they’d taken had altered how she saw him.
“Why the library?” she asked as they entered the room.
“She hates it,” he said. “It was Lord Scarsbury’s sanctuary, and ever since he died she can’t bring herself to spend much time in it. Her son doesn’t come to Scotland often. He prefers London and it gives her run of the place. If he ever marries, it will change her world and she won’t adapt well.”
Helena scanned the shelves. The library was massive, and every shelf filled with tomes. She went over to the nearest one and perused the titles. The section appeared to be about ancient Greek history. “Do you like to read?” she asked Dashville. Books were what led her to believe she could have more for her life. The more she read, the more ideas formed inside her mind. She realized a long time ago she wasn’t a normal female and most of the ladies of her acquaintance were all right with their lot in life. Helena never had been and didn’t accept that she couldn’t be better—do more. No doubt her father regretted educating her.
“Some,” he replied. “But I don’t have as much time for it as I’d like. When I was younger, I hated it and the restraint it put on me. As I got older, I found other things to amuse myself with. I’ve found lately that it’s a peaceful entertainment and one that doesn’t leave me feeling like death warmed over.”
Interesting... She couldn’t say she understood what his other activities had done to him to make him feel sickly, but she was glad to hear he’d found joy in reading to replace it. “Do you have a favorite?”
“Book?” He shook his head. “No, I can’t say I have. Lately I’ve been mostly reading a scandal sheet and frowning at my name blazed throughout it.”
Helena frowned. “Oh?”
She didn’t want to admit she was the author of the scandal sheet. There was only one that would berate Dashville on a regular basis—Whispers from Lady X. She’d made it her personal mission to give him hell whenever she could. Maybe she should regret that, but she didn’t. He deserved it at the time. In her future publications, she’d try to be a little nicer. He wasn’t all bad, after all.
“Yes,” he said. “At first, it irritated me, but as time went on I was grateful for it. Her words made me face a truth I hadn’t wanted to admit.”
“What’s that?” She was almost afraid of the answer; nonetheless, she wanted to hear it. Maybe it would give her even more insight to his psyche. Helena was fascinated by Dashville and wanted to understand him.
“I want more out of life, and the path I was on wasn’t going to get me anywhere.”
Her fingers started to itch underneath her gloves. She rubbed at them furiously and stared down at the offending material. Maybe if she could remove the damn things... Ah, hell, she had to or the itch would never stop. If she’d had a room prepared already she could have gone to it and removed them in private. Having to wear them constantly in Dashville’s presence was tiresome. She yanked the gloves off and raked her nails over the ink stained tips.
Dashville stared at them and then met her gaze. “Do you do a lot of writing?”
“Um,” she said and then chewed on her lip. “A little.”
Her stomach fluttered nervously, and she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear as she waited for him to respond. He stared at her curiously. Surely he wouldn’t guess. Who would jump to the conclusion she was Lady X by looking at her hands. That could mean anything...
“I’ll be damned,” he said with a shake of his head. “That makes perfect sense. Of course it would be you...”
She was wrong—again. Any more and it would become a habit, one she already hated. “I can explain...”
Never fear, my devoted followers. I’d never leave you forever. Even the infamous Lady X needs a holiday.
—Whispers from Lady X
CHAPTER SEVEN
HOW HAD HE NEVER PUT it together before? The Lady of Whispers made her bow not long after he’d humiliated Helena. Oh, no one had known he had, but she did. He’d danced with her to save face with her brother. Even she had to admit that it had given her a bit of notoriety afterward, but he’d all but snubbed her before, during, and afterward. In short, he’d been an arse. He didn’t blame her for wanting revenge, and she’d got it in a spectacular way. She’d mentioned scandal even then. Something about no one ever willingly courting a scandal until they found themselves embroiled inside of it.
At the time, it hadn’t occurred to him to question her remark—now, though... It all made perfect sense. He lifted a brow. “I can’t wait,” he replied dryly. “This will be—interesting.”
Helena fidgeted. It was endearing, but he doubted anyone else would think so. Especially if his deduction was indeed correct, and she was Lady X. He hadn’t accused her of writing the column, and she hadn’t yet confirmed it. Her ink stained fingers could very well be from writing letters—a lot of letters... There wasn’t any valid reason he could think of for a lady of her quality to have hands that damaged. He could be wrong in his assumption. Perhaps she was writing a novel or fancied herself a poet of some sort. Lord Byron certainly added to the romanticism that enticed some young ladies to attempt their hand at rhyming a few verses.
“There is nothing I can say that will make you understand,” she finally said. “But I’ll try.”
“I’m all aflutter with anticipation.” Dash couldn’t leave the sarcasm out of his voice if he’d tried—and he certainly didn’t attempt it. He tapped his fingers on a nearby shelf as he waited rather impatiently for her to continue.
She slid her glove back on covering up the evidence of her nefarious activity. What would make her do it? How could she have managed to publish a scandal sheet as fast as she had? The first publication by Lady X had happened mere days after that fateful night he’d first danced with her. It couldn’t have been all about revenge against him.
“Has Lucas—Darcy ever told you how our father is?”
“What does the duke have to do with any of this?” When would she openly admit she was Lady X? “Surely, he wouldn’t approve of your—hobby.” He didn’t know what else to call it.
Helena snorted and started to pace around the room. She put a little distance between them by doing so. “Oh, he most certainly wouldn’t.” She stopped and turned to face him. “Father would lock me in a room and never let me out if he was aware of what I did in my spare time.”
“I don’t understand.” He was trying to, but logic failed him. Dash folded his arms across his chest. He was at a loss and had no idea what he should do. “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what your father has to do with it.”
She sighed and started to pace the room again. He wanted her, and nothing would change that. He was a mixture of disappointed and fascinated by the revelation. He didn’t like she’d taken such drastic measures to upbraid him, and well, a great number of people in society; however, he was damn proud of her too. She’d managed to keep this secret for years, and her scandal sheet was not only witty, it had to be quite profitable. Everyone he knew bought it and read it the moment a new one was published. If not for her words, he might never have realized what a fool he’d been toward her and a great many other people. He’d done a lot he wasn’t particularly proud of, and a part of him was rather grateful to have had the opportunity to change.
“Father hates me,” she said. “I know you think they want to see me settled, but I don’t think that’s true. Maybe on mother’s part, but not on his.”
“Why would your father hate you?” He frowned. “No, I don’t believe it. I’ve met the duke and he’s always struck me as a decent sort.”
“Not to me.” She stopped pacing long enough to look at him. “He’s all right with my br
other, but with me, he’s always been indifferent.”
Dash couldn’t fathom how or why the duke would treat her differently than Darcy. He couldn’t recall his friend ever saying much about it. The duke gave Darcy whatever he wanted, and the earl had taken advantage of that generosity on more than one occasion. “What does your father do to make you believe that?”
“I realize I’m female, and that’s a major difference between Lucas and I,” she began. “Some men do prefer their sons over their daughters, but not to the degree my father does. Sometimes I think perhaps I’m not really his daughter. If my mother was anyone else, then that might be possible. She is too much in love with him for me to believe she had an affair.”
She sat down on a nearby settee and stared down at her lap. “Nonetheless, my father has made it clear on more than one occasion how disappointed he is in me. That I should have children of my own by now, a husband, and in short reside in another household—I have an inheritance, but I won’t get it for another five years. He’s been frugal with my wardrobe for a while now. He doesn’t even acknowledge me most of the time unless it’s to proclaim me an unnatural daughter.”
That explained a lot about her attitude, but not why she wrote a scandal sheet. Was the revenge perhaps against her father, and not him as he’d presumed? That changed things a little bit, but not by much. “So what gave you the idea to become Lady X?” She still hadn’t said it out loud, and he didn’t think she would unless he forced her to. “What does that give you?”
“Other than money?” About as good of an admission as he was going to get. “Truthfully, that’s the main motivation, but the look on my father’s face as he reads some of it really is sweet to witness.” A slow smile built on her face. “For the longest time, I was an outcast when I shouldn’t have been. Then, overnight, I was the belle of the ball all because you danced with me.” Her voice dropped down an octave and sadness filled it. “Like that made me special for some reason. I resented that, and you, but mostly it made me mad. Society is so mercurial, and even if I didn’t have plans already in place for the publication, I’d have arranged it.” She jutted her chin out in defiance as she uttered the last words.