He stared down at her, his expression suddenly guarded. ‘Subscriptions?’ he repeated. ‘What about them?’
‘Doctor Redfern has informed me that he was obliged to pay a membership fee of ten guineas each for his sister and himself and it occurred to me that you also…’
She hesitated, uncomfortably aware of the narrowing of his eyes and the tightening of his lips but then, throwing caution to the wind, she pressed on none the less, ‘You may scowl all you like, sir, but I simply cannot allow you to continue to incur these sorts of expenses on my behalf—my father was quite insistent that we should pay our own way during the course of this venture!’
‘I prefer not to discuss the matter any further, if it is all the same to you, Miss Wheatley,’ Richard growled as, taking hold of her elbow, he attempted to steer her in the direction of the doorway. ‘I am not yet so down on my uppers that I cannot afford a few guineas’ entrance fee!’
Helena, however, had no intention of being diverted from her chosen course. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord!’ she retorted as, resolutely standing her ground, she refused to budge. ‘But I must remind you that the terms of our agreement state quite clearly that you are to be refunded for any expense that you incur on our behalves!’
‘And I would remind you that I have not yet signed any such agreement,’ returned the earl, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. ‘Nor, indeed, do I have any intention of so doing and, since I believe we have already covered a somewhat similar ground on a previous occasion, the subject, as far as I am concerned, is at an end!’
Choking back her indignation, Helena stared up at him in disbelief. ‘Well! Of all the arrogant…!’ she gasped. ‘Just because you have decided that the matter is closed by no means makes it so as far as I am concerned, sir! What right have you to dictate to me in such a high-handed manner?’
About to defend himself against her unexpected onslaught, Richard, suddenly confronted with the rapid rise and fall of the twin mounds of her magnificent bosom, found his attention so thoroughly diverted that he was momentarily deprived of speech. But then, furious with himself for having been so easily sidetracked, he hurriedly dragged his eyes away from the tantalising sight and, with a quick intake of breath, asked carefully, ‘Might I ask in what way my refusing to accept money from a lady can possibly be thought of as either arrogant or high-handed?’
Helena gave a disdainful shrug. ‘It would appear to be all of a piece with you,’ she replied bitterly. ‘First, you disappear for hours on end—coming up with the most trumpery of excuses when you finally do deign to return—and then you drag me on to the dance floor against my will! And now, it seems, I am not even to be permitted to speak unless you give your consent! If that is not arrogant high-handedness, I am sure I don’t know what is!’
‘But, I thought I had explained what kept me away so long!’ he argued, staring down at her in bewilderment. ‘Not that my absence appeared to have any effect on your own enjoyment, by all accounts,’ he added, somewhat cynically. ‘Unless my eyes were deceiving me, I would say that you seemed more than happy to have the popular doctor take you up in my stead!’
‘How dare you, sir!’ exclaimed Helena, her eyes kindling. ‘Perhaps you would rather I had sat on the sidelines for almost an hour while you amused yourself elsewhere?’
Then, drawing herself up to her full height, she shot him a scornful look and, unable to contain her resentment, exclaimed scornfully, ‘I suggest that you take stock of your own rather suspect behaviour before you criticise others, my lord! In view of that questionable episode at Lady Kettlesham’s last evening, I wonder that you have the gall to accuse me of coquetry!’
At her words, Richard stiffened with outrage. ‘Whatever happened at Lady Kettlesham’s last evening, is not, in my opinion, any concern of yours,’ he said tersely. ‘Furthermore, I was hardly accusing you of coquetry. I was merely concerned at how others might view your conduct.’
‘My conduct…!’ Now thoroughly lost to reason, Helena, scarlet-cheeked and her eyes bright with unshed tears, rounded on him. ‘That is the outside of enough, sir! I will not stay here and allow you to insult me any further! Just as I suspected, you have proved yourself to be no better than the rest of your kind and, as far as I am concerned, this stupid farce is now at an end! You may notify her ladyship that any agreement that we may once have had is terminated!’ And, before he could reach out his hands to stop her, she had turned and fled across the room towards the nearby exit.
Whilst the earl found himself to be thoroughly exasperated by Helena’s unaccountable reaction to what he had regarded as a fairly straightforward statement of fact, every nerve in his body was urging him to hasten after her and beg her pardon for causing her such unintended distress. Straightening his shoulders and doing his utmost to ignore the hushed whispers and pointed glances that were being cast in his direction, he lifted his chin and strode towards the doorway and thence out into the corridor beyond.
Chapter Fourteen
Having reached the corridor, Helena paused and looked about her, undecided as to her next move. Already on the point of regretting her impulsive outburst, she could not yet bring herself to face Lottie and the others in the supper room. Whilst what she most wanted to do was to get herself back to the peace and comfort of her own home as quickly as possible, her head was in too much of a whirl to concentrate on how best to achieve that goal without drawing undue attention to her flight. Perhaps she could call on Mr Willis, the Master of Ceremonies, to assist her, she thought, as she stood in the dimly lit passageway. He had looked a kindly sort of gentleman and would surely help her to procure a reputable hansom cab? Fortunately, she had plenty of money in her reticule, her previous experience having taught her never to leave the house without sufficient funds to see her safely home again.
Getting a message to Lottie presented another problem, of course, but how that might be arranged, she could not think. Added to which, since she had a very clear image of Markfield tucking the cloakroom tickets into his breast pocket shortly after their arrival, Helena soon realised that the chances of her being able to retrieve their cloaks were somewhat less than nil!
Having tentatively toyed with the possibility of seeking Dr Redfern’s assistance, she had been obliged to put the thought aside for, whilst it was true that he had been careful not to display any overt partiality towards her throughout the evening, his evident disinclination to wander far from her side had not escaped her notice. Added to which, although she had only stood up with him for one dance, it had been impossible not to register the fact that, on each of the two occasions that Charles Standish had led her out, the doctor had been very quick to cajole poor little Lottie—who was no dancer at the best of times—into joining the self-same sets. To involve him in any sort of secret assignation might well be misconstrued as some sort of subtle invitation to encourage him to press his advantage, a situation that was to be avoided at all costs. Having only just managed to extricate herself from one, now apparently, undesirable relationship, she was determined not to find herself up to her neck in another!
Dashing away the tears that persisted in welling up into her eyes, she was finding it hard to believe that she had allowed herself to be so badly taken in. Markfield, it seemed, was no better than any of the others—an arrogant, supercilious beast, with a total disregard for anyone else’s feelings. It was just as well she had found him out before she had allowed herself to fall completely under his spell!
She pressed her fingers to her aching forehead and glanced about her, in an effort to get her bearings. At the far end of the corridor, groups of people were still moving in and out of the supper room but, since she had no desire to join the rest of her party, she thought it best to move away from that area, in the hopes of finding either the ladies’ room or some other unoccupied spot in which she might sit and rest her pounding head for a few moments while she considered what to do next.
Unfortunately, as she was soon to discover on peering round t
heir doors, both of the rooms at this end of the corridor had been given over to card-playing, leaving only a tiny store room that, upon further investigation, proved to be crammed full of boxes, broken chairs and other unwanted bits and pieces.
Feeling utterly dispirited, she was just on the point of closing the storeroom door when there, in the darkest recess of the room, almost hidden amongst the discarded paraphernalia, she caught a glimpse of what looked to be a dilapidated chaise-longue, piled high with old curtains. Sending up a prayer of thanks for whichever Providence had seen fit to grant her this much-needed respite, she began to edge her way through the piles of clutter towards the seat.
She had barely taken two steps into the room, however, when she was staggered to feel a pair of hands grasping at her shoulders and then, before she had time to understand what was happening, she found herself being propelled roughly forwards and thrust, face downwards, into the pile of dust-covered velvet curtains on the chaise. Shocked out of her senses and struggling to breathe, it was some little while before she had recovered sufficiently to roll herself over on to her elbows, whereupon she found herself staring up into none other than the malevolently grinning Viscount Barrington!
‘So, we meet again, Miss Wheatley,’ he drawled softly, as he reached forwards and pulled her towards him. ‘I do believe we have some unfinished business to attend to.’
Helena’s mind reeled. Having spent most of the evening looking over her shoulder in a constant fret as to whether or not the viscount had left the premises, the bitter confrontation with Markfield had completely erased her earlier concerns from her mind.
‘Let me go, sir, I beg you!’ she implored him, as, still struggling to catch her breath, she tried to wrench herself from his hold. ‘You cannot mean to keep me here against my will!’
‘By the time I am finished with you, my dear,’ he retorted, pushing her back on to the chaise and placing his hand over her mouth, ‘I promise that both you and your father will be down on your knees begging me to marry you!’
Her eyes widening with disbelief as the implication of his words sunk in, Helena, kicking with all her might, fought to free herself from his hold until, limp and panting, she felt herself collapse beneath him. ‘Waste of time and effort, all that pointless struggling,’ grunted Barrington as, lowering himself on top of her, his free hand groped amongst the several layers of petticoats under her skirt. ‘Best to save your breath for the pleasures yet to come, my sweet!’
Her head swimming, Helena, now utterly spent, was powerless to prevent the viscount’s grotesque fumblings and, frozen with terror, she could feel herself slowly drifting into a state of oblivion.
Then, just as she was about to lose all sense of reality, a violent crashing sound jerked her back to consciousness, whereupon she discovered, to her intense joy and relief, that her breathing was no longer being restricted by the weight of Barrington’s body. As a series of thuds and guttural croaks swiftly followed his unexpected departure, her mind gradually became more fully attuned to her surroundings.
‘Helena?’
Markfield? Her eyes fluttered open and there, kneeling at her side, was the earl, his expression of fearful apprehension clearly visible, even in the room’s half-light.
‘Helena? Sweetheart? Can you stand?’
Sweetheart? Had the viscount’s attack affected her hearing? Shaking her head and blinking rapidly, in an attempt to clear away the mists of confusion, she gazed up at him through the gloom.
‘Barrington?’ she whispered, as she gingerly raised herself into an upright position.
‘He won’t be troubling you again, I promise,’ returned Richard, guardedly flexing the knuckles of his bruised right hand. Then, reaching forwards, he drew her gently to her feet. ‘Are you—? Did he—?’
His voice wavered and, with a muffled groan, he pulled her into his arms. ‘I’m so very sorry, my dear. I should have been more vigilant. Can you ever forgive me?’
As her heart leapt within her, Helena was scarcely aware of the words he had uttered. Finding herself wrapped in the security of his embrace was, as far as she was concerned, more than adequate compensation for any degradation that she might have suffered at the hands of the hateful viscount. Through the layers of clothing that separated them, she could feel the warmth of his body and the slightly unsteady beat of his heart. Powerless to resist the compulsion, she slid her hands around his waist and, pressing herself against him even more closely, she raised her head and looked intently into his eyes.
Although his sense of duty was telling him that what Helena was most in need of at this moment was a period of calm and comfort, Richard, meeting her limpid gaze, found himself again fighting an almost overwhelming desire to feel the inviting softness of her lips against his own.
Regrettably, his mounting need quickly put paid to any finer feelings that he had harboured earlier and, emitting a soft sigh of capitulation, he closed his eyes and lowered his head.
‘May I enquire exactly what is going on in here, your lordship?’ came Lady Jersey’s frosty tones behind them.
Starting back in dismay, Richard swung round and, in a vain effort to shield her from view, thrust the equally shocked Helena behind him.
There, clustered together at the doorway and glowering at him with unconcealed disapproval on their faces, were all five of the club’s notoriously unforgiving Patronesses. Moreover, these ladies were not on their own, but were accompanied by a rather surprising number of other inquisitive onlookers, among whom, as the earl was soon to observe, to his utter chagrin, was the dowager countess herself! Biting back the violent oath that was starting to form, it did not take him long to work out that it had been Barrington who—despite his bruised and battered appearance—had quite clearly lost no time in spreading word of the recent violent confrontation between himself and the earl. Any vague puzzlement that Richard might have felt as to why the viscount should be so eager to advertise such blatant misconduct was soon to be clarified by Lady Jersey’s next broadside.
‘Viscount Barrington has already been so good as to inform my fellow Patronesses and myself of his courageous attempt to prevent you molesting one of our young ladies, sir! That one of our members should go so far as to forget himself and behave in so despicable a manner is quite beyond belief! And, under our very noses, too! Unless you are able to explain your actions, sir, we must request that you collect your party and leave our premises without further ado!’
Passing a weary hand across his forehead, Richard found himself momentarily unable to conjure up an acceptable explanation that would refute the dastardly viscount’s scurrilous claim. What was becoming abysmally clear to him, however, was that, since Barrington had been devious enough to set about circulating such a highly calumnious version of the event, any attempt from him to reveal the truth of the matter was more likely to increase his accusers’ belief in his own guilt rather than persuade them of his innocence. Apart from which and, rather more to the point, as far as Richard was concerned, was the necessity of protecting Helena from malicious gossip. He drew in a deep breath, reluctantly concluding that, despite the fact that it went against the most basic of his principles, there was, clearly, only one way out of this mess.
‘It would seem that your ladyships have been badly misled,’ he said, eyeing his detractors steadily. ‘Whilst it is perfectly true that I was obliged to eject Lord Barrington from the room rather forcibly, I consider that my actions were wholly justified, since, far from molesting the young lady in question, as his lordship has suggested, I was, at the time he barged in upon us, in the process of proposing marriage to her!’
Steeling himself to ignore the barely concealed gasp of dismay from behind him, he then added, ‘As Miss Wheatley will no doubt be prepared to confirm, should you care to ask her.’
And, keeping his fingers crossed, he stepped aside to reveal the scarlet-faced and somewhat dishevelled-looking Helena who, having listened to his astounding claim with mounting alarm, now found hers
elf so utterly taken aback that she was incapable of speech.
‘Miss Wheatley?’
Taking her unresisting hand in his, Richard, summoning up a smile of encouragement, looked down at her, saying, ‘It would seem that our little secret is out, my love. Perhaps you would care to explain to their ladyships the true purpose of our clandestine rendezvous?’
On raising her eyes to meet his, the earnest entreaty contained therein caused Helena’s breath to catch in her throat and, although her exhausted brain was struggling to digest the full implication of his words, it would have been well nigh impossible for her not to have registered the somewhat lowering fact that, in his valiant endeavours to protect her from shame and dishonour, the earl was even prepared to go so far as to sacrifice his principles on the altar of her good name.
All at once, it came to her that this whole appalling fiasco had been brought about as a direct result of her own wilful determination to challenge Markfield’s authority. Horribly conscious of the fact that, had she not fled from his protection and attempted to hide herself away in this storeroom, none of the disastrous events that had followed could possibly have occurred and his lordship would not now be finding himself in the invidious position of being obliged to ask for her hand in marriage! Nevertheless, knowing full well that she was left with little choice but to go along with his outrageous claim, Helena forced herself to dredge up the remains of what little courage she still had left and, reluctantly entwining her fingers in his, she turned towards the murmuring crowd at the doorway and exclaimed, ‘You have no right to cast such dreadful aspersions on Lord Markfield’s integrity! He has spoken nothing but the truth! Had not the viscount chosen to invade our privacy and cause such wicked mischief, our little tête-à-tête would have been over and done with long before either of us had been missed. As it is, what was intended to be our own private secret until his lordship was able to speak with my father, is now, thanks to Barrington’s malicious allegations, common currency!’
A Marriageable Miss Page 17