In future, I shall be the one who decides on the locking or unlocking of that door, she vowed as, sliding between the far less welcoming sheets of her own bed, she lay shivering in the early morning chill and cast her mind back to her husband’s final words. Surely, he could not have been so utterly foxed that he had mistaken her for that ghastly Cummings woman, she reflected moodily, as she waited for sleep to overcome her.
Having woken with a crippling headache only to discover that—contrary to what he had been happy to believe the previous night—his soul had not been wafted into Heaven by an angel bearing an uncanny resemblance to his new wife, Richard was obliged to concede that the highly erotic vision of a semi-clad Helena lying asleep in his arms, which had seemed so incredibly real at the time, had to have been yet another example of those frustratingly tormenting dreams with which he had been plagued every night for the past week or so. And, rather than suppressing his emotional fervour, as had been his intention, it would seem that the time-honoured standby of drowning his sorrows in an overindulgence of spirits had actually exacerbated the problem—as well as having presented him with the most diabolical hangover he had ever had the misfortune to suffer! Pressing his fingers against his eyes in an attempt to shut out the faint streaks of daylight that were already beginning to light up the room, he swore to himself that—in addition to steering clear of strong liquor for the foreseeable future—he would need to make sure that he kept himself well out of range of Helena’s spellbinding influence.
Concentrate on his work! That would surely do the trick, he decided firmly, as he reached out and pulled at the bell-cord to summon his valet. Get those colts ready for sale and, by God, yes! He would enter all three of his racing thoroughbreds in next week’s Epsom stakes. Having held back from getting involved in any of the actual racing this early in the season, he had put all his effort into increasing the strength of his fledgling stud but, as it now occurred to him, putting his thoroughbreds through their paces now would certainly draw a lot of useful attention to their finer points and might well encourage potential breeders to approach him—not to mention necessitating his absence from the estate for several days at a time.
Entering the dining room in a far more cheerful frame of mind, he was decidedly put out to find his wife already ensconced at the table, contentedly spreading butter on her third slice of toast.
A slight flush spread over Helena’s cheeks as he came towards her and, whilst she prayed that he would make no mention of last night’s occurrence within hearing distance of the butler who was hovering at the doorway, she could not help hoping that the earl would pass her some sort of private sign to indicate that he had not failed to register her presence during at least one of his moments of lucidity.
Rather to her disappointment—not to say mortification—Richard halted at the threshold and, with a strangled, ‘I beg your pardon—please excuse me!’ he turned tail and made at once for the door that led out to Westpark’s stable area.
For several moments, Helena was too shocked to do anything other than but stare at the now empty doorway, in a transfixed silence. But then, as a growing sense of affront gradually began to dawn upon her, she thrust back her chair, leapt to her feet and started after the earl, intent upon taking him to task for having treated her in so discourteous a manner.
Halfway down the hall, however, she hesitated and came to a halt, with the sudden realisation that, given the severe depth of his intoxication, any recollection of last night’s events that Markfield might retain was likely to be decidedly hazy. That being so, it would hardly be in her best interests to do anything that might jog his memory. Far better that she put the matter out of her mind and kept out of his way for a while.
With that thought in mind, she sped up the stairs to her room, hurriedly collected a bonnet and, was soon making her way across the lawn towards the river path, intent on getting to Markfield Hall well before his lordship even had time to saddle his mount.
This plan would have been perfect, had it not been for the fact that Jem, having been made aware of Markfield’s unexpected fall from grace the previous afternoon and, being well acquainted with the earl’s requirements when he was out of sorts, had taken the precaution of saddling the highly spirited Titan several minutes before his grim-faced master strode into the stable yard.
‘Good man!’ exclaimed Richard, as he relieved the groom of the reins and leapt into the saddle, inwardly cursing at the searing explosion of pain that the sudden movement brought about. He was about to swing his mount towards Westpark’s main gate, in order to take his usual route to the Hall, when he checked and, looking down at the groom, enquired, ‘The footbridge—did the men manage to repair it, do you know?’
‘Good as new, sir,’ Jem assured him. ‘I used it to fetch Titan over yesterday afternoon—made a fine job of it, did Mr Standish’s men.’
‘Excellent!’ replied the earl, wheeling the gelding around. ‘That’ll save a good few minutes every trip.’
Lifting his crop in farewell, he set off in the direction of the riverside path, doing his best to ignore the spasms of pain that every jarring step seemed to bring about. Slumping low in his saddle, he slowed his mount to a gentle walk and kept to the grass in order to alleviate the throbbing ache in his head, vowing that he would never touch another drop of liquor if he lived to be a hundred! Although, how the hell he was going to be able to keep his hands to himself for the next few days without some sort of diversion, he was hard pressed to imagine. Even with all the extra work he was about to take on, he knew that there was still a limit as to how much time he could spend in the stables and, even if he were to arrange to have his meals brought over to him, he would still be obliged to return to Westpark to sleep.
Sleep! The very idea brought a wry grimace to his face. How was he supposed to sleep when such irresistible temptation lay practically within touching distance of his bed? Especially now, when he was actually starting to believe that his dreams had become reality, he was not at all sure that he could trust himself to stay away from her!
Realising that they were approaching the footbridge, he raised his head, only to have his heart thud to a sudden halt, as his eyes fell on Helena’s trim figure strolling gracefully up the path scarcely ten yards ahead of him. Clearly unaware of his presence, the grass having muffled the sound of Titan’s hooves, she had removed her bonnet and was swinging it by its ribbons, humming softly to herself as she walked.
Straightening up in his saddle, he gave the reins a brisk shake and, edging his mount over on to the stony part of the path, he urged him into a slow trot.
The sudden and unexpected sound of an approaching rider caused Helena to let go of her bonnet strings and leap for the safety of the hedgerow.
‘You idiot!’ she gasped, as Richard drew up beside her and started to dismount. ‘Now see what you’ve done!’
Ignoring the earl’s warning shout, she ducked under Titan’s head and dashed over to the riverbank, in a vain attempt to prevent the breeze lifting her straw bonnet off the grass and tossing it over the edge.
‘I dare say that’s your idea of a joke!’ she exploded, as she turned back towards him, her eyes flashing with fury. ‘Did you really need to creep up on me so furtively?’
‘I was not in the least furtive!’ he retorted as, cursing under his breath, he strode past her and stared down at the rushing waters below. Helena’s bonnet, as he was soon able to ascertain, had not sailed off with the current, but had snagged itself against the roots of one of the willow trees, some ten feet or so below them.
‘And, it was quite my favourite, too,’ she murmured sadly, coming to stand next to him. ‘Now, I suppose I shall have to return home and get myself another before I can go on.’
It was her unforeseen use of the word ‘home’ that finally decided him. Unbuttoning his jacket, the earl shrugged it off and, tossing it to one side, started to clamber down the sloping bank towards her errant headpiece. ‘No problem,’ he ventured stoutly,
his fingers clutching at a clump of reeds, as one of his boots sought for some sort of toehold. ‘I believe the bonnet is within my reach.’
‘Good heavens, no! I’d really rather you didn’t!’ gasped Helena, her eyes wide with concern. ‘If you should slip—oh, do come back, Richard, please—I beg of you!’
At the sound of his name on her lips, Richard’s heart swelled and he vowed that he would retrieve the blasted hat for her, if it was the last thing he ever did!
As it happened, reaching the snagged object did not present him with much of a problem but, no sooner did he have it in his hands than he realised that returning to the footpath was going to prove a far more complicated matter. His downward progress had been helped to a large extent by the looseness of the muddy scree, which would be of little use in any upward scramble. Scanning the terrain both to his left and to his right, he could see that the same difficulty presented itself all along the riverbank, indicating that just one ill-judged foothold might easily be the means of pitching him into the rock-strewn river below.
Grinding his teeth, he muttered several violent imprecations. So much for his juvenile attempt at heroics! The last thing he needed was to have to ask Helena to run back to the Hall and fetch help. Looking up, he could see that she was now on her knees, peering down at him over the edge of the bank. In her hands she held a coil of rope.
‘I found this in one of your saddle bags,’ she called down to him. ‘If I throw one end to you, you could tie it around your waist. Then, if I tie the other end to Titan, perhaps I could get him to help to pull you up.’
Richard grimaced. ‘Great idea, in principle,’ he grunted. ‘Trouble is, Titan has a slightly obstinate streak and it’s doubtful whether he’ll let you anywhere near him.’
‘No harm in trying, anyhow,’ retorted Helena, as she disappeared from his view. ‘He didn’t kick up too much of a fuss when I took the rope out of the saddlebag.’
Several minutes passed, during which time Richard made numerous valiant but unsuccessful attempts to hoist himself up the slippery bank. Then, to his astonishment, he saw the end of the rope flipping down towards him and, although there was no sign of Helena at this point, he could not mistake the swish of Titan’s black tail as his rear end gradually began to appear at the top of the incline, indicating that she had, by some incredible means or another, managed to persuade the huge gelding to back up to the very edge of the riverbank.
‘Now, tie yourself on to the end of the rope,’ he heard her voice commanding him and, although he did not hold out a great deal of hope of her plan meeting with much success, he coiled the rope securely around his middle, carefully looping the bonnet’s ribbons into the finished knot.
‘Ready!’ he called, still slightly amazed by the fact that she had managed to persuade the rather self-willed Titan to comply with her wishes.
All at once, he felt a tug at his waist and, scarcely able to believe what was happening, he reached up and grabbed hold of the rope, only to find himself being pulled, surely but steadily, back up to the top of the incline.
With his feet back on terra firma once more, he turned thankfully towards the source of his rescue where he saw Helena hurriedly sliding down from his charger’s saddle! Quickly untying the rope from his middle, he grasped the bonnet in his hand and stepped forwards, holding it out towards her.
‘A little worse for wear, I fear,’ he said, giving her a slightly rueful grin before glancing down at his heavily soiled shirt and breeches and adding, ‘As, indeed, am I, it would appear!’
Ignoring both the bonnet and his mud-splattered garments, Helena, her eyes wide with incredulity, stared up at him for a long moment, took one shuddering breath and then, to his utter dismay, dissolved into a flood of tears, before throwing herself at him and proceeding to pummel his chest with her clenched fists.
‘You stupid, stupid idiot!’ she cried. ‘You could have fallen into the river and been swept to your death on the rocks!’
‘Well, I didn’t and I wasn’t, so no more tears, if you please,’ he returned, forcing a light laugh as, capturing her hands between his own, he found himself filled with a sense of wild elation to learn that Helena had actually been concerned for his safety. ‘And all thanks to your quick thinking—although, how the devil you got Titan to allow you up on his back defeats me!’
‘It’s amazing what an apple and a pocket full of biscuits will do,’ replied Helena, somewhat self-consciously, as she tried, without success, to free herself from Richard’s hold. ‘I really brought them to give to your colts, but he seemed perfectly amenable to doing as I asked, once he discovered my store of goodies.’
‘Well, I’ll be—!’exploded the earl, casting the now peacefully cropping Titan a scornful look. ‘And, there’s me been deceived into thinking him a one-man horse all these years, when it seems that he’ll do anything for a piece of apple!’
‘Oh, no! I shouldn’t think so,’ she said, with a vehement shake of her head. ‘I’m sure that he only followed my commands because he sensed that you needed his help—horses have that sort of second sight, I’m told.’
‘So I believe,’ he said, smiling down at her flushed face. Gently releasing her hands, he pulled her towards him and held her close. ‘Nevertheless, I consider that you are the one to whom I owe the most thanks.’
Locked in the warmth of her husband’s caress, Helena would have been more than happy to remain there indefinitely had not the sound of Charles Standish’s voice, hailing them from the far side of the river, destroyed the harmony of the moment.
‘Enough of that, you pair of lovebirds!’ he called laughingly. ‘I was just about to come over and collect you, Helena. Your people are awaiting your instructions and I wasn’t sure what plans you had for them this morning.’
Mentally cursing his cousin for so untimely an interruption, Richard released Helena and bent down to retrieve his discarded jacket.
‘Back to work, then,’ he said, catching hold of Titan’s trailing reins and holding out his arm to her. ‘I’m really sorry about the bonnet—I trust it isn’t totally beyond repair?’
‘Oh, I dare say that it will serve for the present,’ replied Helena with a casual shrug, as she strove to regain her composure. Having made every effort to tug the now sadly misshapen article into a more recognisable shape, she crammed it on her head, and then attempted to tie the heavily begrimed ribbons into some semblance of a bow. At which, her lips began to twitch and, before she knew it, she was chuckling aloud.
‘What a sight, the pair of us are,’ she gurgled, looking down at the front of her bodice, where a good deal of the mud from Richard’s shirt had deposited itself during their recent close contact. ‘Lord and Lady Muck, to the very letter!’
Such unexpected levity when confronted with her decidedly bedraggled appearance only served to underline the earl’s growing admiration for his wife and, even though her hat was crooked, her hair was coming adrift from its pins and her nose and cheeks were liberally speckled with dirt, to him she had never looked more beautiful and desirable.
Grinning broadly, he stood back and swept her a highly theatrical bow, at the same time drawling in an extremely affected tone of voice, ‘To work, then, your ladyship—it appears there are estate matters that demand our attention—and to keep one’s workforce waiting is considered pretty bad form, don’t you know!’
With an answering smile, Helena tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and allowed him to escort her over the bridge to meet up with the clearly mystified Standish.
‘What on earth have you been up to?’ he exclaimed, after taking an astonished look at their highly dishevelled appearances.
‘Just a minor disagreement,’ replied the earl, as he shot a smiling glance at his wife.
‘Ending with a satisfactory conclusion, I trust?’ enquired his cousin, looking from one to the other for some sort of confirmation. ‘You certainly did not look to be at odds with one another a few moments ago!’
‘Oh, we
weren’t at odds with one another,’ the blushing Helena put in hurriedly. ‘It was just my bonnet!’
‘Yes, I can see how it might have brought about something of a difference of opinion,’ said Standish, as he eyed the offending article.
Helena could not help but burst out laughing at the expression on his face. ‘Let me assure you that it didn’t start out like this when I left home. The fact is that the wind swept it out of my hands and trapped it in the roots of a willow tree. His lordship was good enough to go to its rescue and I was simply—er—expressing my thanks, just as you arrived.’
‘Perhaps you would prefer to go back to Westpark and change, before you face your eager minions?’ he then suggested, but Helena shook her head.
‘Certainly not! I dare say I shall look a good deal worse than this by the time I’ve swept out a few rooms.’
Standish’s brow furrowed. ‘But, I thought that was what you brought that pack of “down-and-outs” here for? Surely you don’t intend to involve yourself personally in the clearing-up operation?’
‘But, of course I do!’ Helena stared at him in some surprise. ‘You cannot suppose that I will simply stand around dishing out orders, right and left, surely?’
After a short pause, during which the silent Standish eyed her with undisguised amazement, she added quietly, ‘And I would be grateful if you would refrain from referring to my people as “down-and-outs”. I’ll have you know that all of these men are displaced soldiers and the women, for the most part, are those who have been left widowed and destitute, as a result of their husbands having been killed while serving their king and country!’
With that, she swung away from the two men and marched off in the direction of the Hall, leaving a transfixed Richard staring after her, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions that included awe, admiration and respect—but, most of all, an even deeper love than he could ever have believed possible. Had they been allowed just a few minutes longer, before that magical spell had been broken by Charles’s intervention, he was almost certain that he and Helena might well have resolved their differences. Letting out a soft sigh, he wondered how long it would be before another such perfect moment would present itself.
A Marriageable Miss Page 26