by Sandra Heath
‘H-Helen?’ she cried after a moment.
Helen seized her hands. ‘Am I too late? Is it over?’
Margaret stared at her. ‘How are you here…?’
‘Answer me, Margaret! Is the duel over, am I too late?’
‘N-no. I c-couldn’t stay and watch, I h-had to come away.’
Hope surged through Helen. ‘I must stop them!’ She pulled away, running back toward the berlin.
Margaret called helplessly after her, ‘There’s n-nothing you can do. They w-won’t listen to you, or t-to anyone!’
‘I have Ralph’s confession!’ cried Helen, waving the letter aloft and not looking back. ‘They must listen now!’
Peter whipped the weary horses into action almost before she’d managed to close the berlin door, and the vehicle jolted forward yet again. In a blur Helen saw Margaret’s stunned face, and saw the realization of hope. As the berlin sped away along the narrow track, Margaret was climbing back into the landau, ordering it to the glade as well.
Herne’s Glade appeared ahead at last, visible through the silky swathes of fine evaporating mist. Adam’s bright red curricle was drawn up beneath an immense overhanging oak, and near it stood a surgeon, his top hat pulled low over his forehead. Several saddle horses were tethered nearby, and a groom was with them, watching what was happening in the center of the misty glade. With their appointed seconds standing to one side, Adam and Gregory were facing each other, having turned after taking the required twelve paces. Their shirts were ghastly white, and their pistols were already leveled, the barrels glinting in the cold dawn light.
Helen leaned fearfully out of the berlin window, crying out desperately. ‘Stop! You must stop! Gregory, I can prove Adam’s innocence!’
For a beat of the heart they remained motionless, but then slowly they lowered the pistols, turning as the little carriage hurtled into the glade, followed by the landau.
Peter reined in once more, halting the foam-flecked team, and Helen fumbled with the door in her haste to open it. As she alighted, she was vaguely aware that William Lamb was Adam’s second, and that she recognized Gregory’s second, having met him at the dinner party, although she couldn’t put a name to him. As Margaret alighted from the landau, hurrying across the glade toward the duellists, Helen went up to Gregory, hesitating a moment before giving him the letter.
‘Before you read it, I must have your word that you won’t go after Ralph.’
‘I won’t give any promise, Helen.’
‘I gave him my word, Gregory. Please allow me to keep it.’
He looked into her pleading eyes, and then gave a brief nod. ‘Very well.’
She turned to Adam. ‘Will you promise as well?’
‘I don’t owe St John any consideration.’
‘I know, but I still ask you. Please, Adam.’
‘As you wish.’
Her hand shook as she gave the letter to Gregory. ‘Read it,’ she said, ‘for every word exonerates Adam.
He handed his pistol to his second, and then began to read. Margaret pressed close to his side, reading as well. Helen glanced again at Adam, wanting so much to see warmth in his eyes, but she found only an impenetrable veil that allowed her to see nothing of his thoughts. She swallowed back the pain, for her past lies still counted against her, and nothing would change that. But at least she’d stopped the duel, and cleared his name, so that he could no longer say he owed her nothing.
Margaret finished reading, and raised contrite eyes to her face. ‘Oh, Helen, we’ve been so wrong, so very wrong….’
Gregory nodded, folding the letter. ‘It seems we have. Dear God, how completely Ralph gulled us.’
Margaret touched Helen’s arm. ‘But how did you obtain this confession, how on earth did you persuade him to tell?’
‘I blackmailed him. At the Farrish House ball I found out that his father wasn’t taken in by his lies; indeed, I found out that Mr St John Senior is a very agreeable and shrewd person. He’d guessed that Ralph had been telling less than the truth, and he persuaded me to tell him a little of what I knew, which was enough to persuade him that Ralph had to be stopped, hence the threat of disinheritance unless Ralph agreed to return immediately to Jamaica. Mr St John also said that if he found out anything else, he’d disinherit Ralph anyway. I knew so much more about Ralph, including the fact that he’d been continuing to interfere most vilely in my life even after the confrontation with his father, that I suddenly saw how I could use the self-same threat of disinheritance. I had only to threaten to go to his father, and that is what I did. With the help of Mary and Peter, I got away from Bourne End and went to the Golden Key to face Ralph with my ultimatum. It worked.’ Helen looked anxiously at her sister and brother-in-law. ‘You mustn’t blame Mary and Peter for assisting me; they did it because they too wished to stop the duel – especially because they cared about you, Gregory.’ She looked at him.
He nodded. ‘No blame will attach to them; indeed, I’m grateful, but Helen, you do realize, don’t you, that this letter makes no difference to the duel? Maybe I was wrong about Adam’s part in the past, but I’m not wrong about his dishonorable intentions toward you.’
‘You are wrong about that as well,’ she replied, taking the letter from his hand and thrusting it toward Adam. ‘Just as you are wrong about something as well, my lord. Pray, read the letter.’
‘Nothing St John has to say is news to me, Miss Fairmead, for I know the exact extent of his crimes.’
‘No, you don’t. Please read the letter,’ she insisted.
‘As you wish.’ He handed his pistol to William Lamb, and then began to read.
She watched, and knew the precise moment he reached Ralph’s vindication of her virtue. A light moved through his eyes, and he looked quickly at her.
She met his gaze squarely. ‘I didn’t play you false with him, I was merely his helpless pawn, but you wouldn’t believe me. And you,’ her glance encompassed the others as well, ‘wouldn’t believe me when I told you Adam hadn’t attempted to seduce me. There’s no earthly reason why this duel should proceed, Gregory, because not only was Adam innocent of tampering with Prince Agamemnon, he’s also innocent of improper intentions toward me. If anyone is guilty of impropriety where virtue is concerned, that person is me.’
Gregory raised an eyebrow. ‘Helen, if you expect me to believe….’
‘Oh, I do, sir, I expect you to believe, because what I’m going to tell you is the truth, I’d swear it on my parents’ memory if required to. I’ve behaved very badly indeed since leaving Miss Figgis’s emporium of decorum; in fact, I doubt that that good lady would recognize me if given a description of my antics.’ She swallowed, for a blush of shame colored her cheeks. ‘Gregory, when I arrived at Bourne End, you were curious as to what hour I’d set off in order to reach Ascot so early in the afternoon. I glossed over a reply, for the truth was that I’d spent the previous night at the Cat and Fiddle Inn, Upper Ballington, forced to do so by the weather and by Lord Swag. Afraid for my reputation, I decided to adopt a false name, and so I pretended to be the widowed Mrs Brown.’
Margaret gasped in dismay. ‘Oh, Helen!’
‘I know it was foolish, but it seemed safe enough at the time. I would continue with the journey in the morning, and no one would be any wiser. But it wasn’t as simple as that, for in the courtyard I was saved from certain death by Adam’s quick thinking, and when he asked me to dine with him, I didn’t hesitate to accept. I’d do it again, so help me, for in spite of my monumental gaffes, I enjoyed that evening more than was wise. I basked in the flattering and charming attention of a man whose very smile devastated me, and when later that night I saw him again rescue someone, this time a maid from the brutish attentions of a drunken coachman, my fate was sealed.’ She looked at Adam then. ‘I fell hopelessly in love with you that night, and if a liberty was taken when we finally parted, it was a liberty I didn’t attempt to spurn.’
‘Helen, you don’t have to say any more….�
� he began.
‘But I do, I have to tell them everything.’ She began to recount her every thought and action over the past weeks, and when she’d finished, she looked at them all. ‘My conduct doesn’t bear close inspection, does it? And my reputation will never amount to much, not after all this. If you persist in this duel now, Gregory, you’ll be persisting for a nonexistent cause – my good name.’ There were tears in her eyes as she looked pleadingly at him. ‘Please believe me, Gregory, and stand down from this duel. You and Adam have no ax to grind any more, all obstacles have been removed from your friendship. He doesn’t owe you an apology for anything, but you owe him one, for you’ve been totally in the wrong throughout.’
He glanced at Margaret, who slipped a hand into his. ‘She’s right, Gregory, we do owe Adam an apology.’
Gregory turned to Adam. ‘I don’t know how to begin….’
Adam hesitated, but then held out his hand. ‘I understand how you were misled. I’m glad to extend my hand in friendship again.’
Gregory’s face broke into a relieved and glad grin, and he swiftly accepted the proferred hand.
As Margaret hastened to make good the rift as well, Helen turned away unnoticed. Tears were blinding her. She’d told all now, and the full extent of her foolishness would soon be common knowledge. And she would have to face the raised eyebrows of society on her own, a woman who by her own admission had behaved with unbecoming boldness.
She slipped away to the berlin, pausing only to speak to Peter. ‘Please drive away, Peter.’
‘Yes, miss. But where?’
‘Anywhere, just take me away from here.’ She climbed inside, closing the door softly behind her. Mary was still seated inside, and now reached out to comfort her mistress, who gave in to the tears of wretchedness.
Peter urged the tired horses away, and the berlin’s wheels left an arc on the wet grass as it turned around in the glade and then drove off.
Margaret broke off in mid-sentence, turning in dismay. ‘Helen? Helen, come back!’ She made to hurry after the carriage, but Gregory caught her hand.
‘Let her go, it will do no good to follow.’ He glanced at Adam, who was standing gazing after the berlin, a pensive expression on his face.
Peter urged the team along the bumpy track toward the copper beech, and then turned toward Hagman’s, feeling that Helen would rather go there than return to Bourne End. In the berlin, Helen felt as if her heart was breaking. It was all over, once and for all, and she’d lost the only man she’d ever love. Hot tears stung her eyes, and a hollow ache echoed inside her, as if her soul had gone. Ralph had played a part in her misery, but when it came down to it, she had no one to blame but herself; she was the author of her own downfall.
She gazed blindly out of the window. The air was much more luminous now, with the sun almost above the eastern horizon. Mist still clung between the trees, becoming more dense as they neared Eleanor’s Lake. The boathouse appeared ahead, silent and deserted after the celebrations of the night before. The pleasure boats were moored along the jetty, and the great golden barge was still adorned with its floral decorations.
Peter reined the exhausted horses in, climbing down from his box and coming apologetically to the door. ‘I can’t drive them any more, Miss Fairmead, they’re quite used up.’
Still overcome with tears, she nodded. ‘Yes, of course. I-I’ll walk for a while.’ She alighted from the carriage, followed by Mary, who was very anxious about her.
‘I’ll stay with you, miss.’
‘No, I’d prefer to be alone. I’ll be all right, please don’t worry.’
Without waiting for the maid to say anything more, Helen walked away, her steps taking her automatically toward the lakeside path. There was no music in the air this time, no Mozart or Vivaldi, just an early morning chorus of birdsong. The lake lapped softly against the shore, the water smooth and almost without a ripple. Swans glided silently over the glassy surface, and she could hear the ducks somewhere among the reeds further along the shore. The rhododendrons were as if seen in a dream, their foliage indistinct, their blooms subdued but still of discernible color.
She didn’t know why she was walking to the clearing where Adam had so finally spurned her, but her steps just took her there. The grass was wet with dew, and as she looked toward the water, she saw the pleasure boat where he’d waited for her the night before. Her skirts dragged through the grass as she walked down to the shore, and the boat swayed a little as she stepped inside. The cushions scattered on the boards were faintly damp, but she didn’t notice as she sat down on them, reaching up to undo the ribbon in her hair. Shaking the long tresses loose, she closed her tired eyes, bowing her head so that her hair tumbled forward over her shoulders.
She wept silently, her face hidden from the world. She didn’t hear the curricle drive up to the boathouse, or the brief exchange of voices, she knew nothing until the boat swayed suddenly, and she looked up to see Adam stepping aboard.
In Herne’s Glade he’d discarded his coat and waistcoat for the duel, and he’d left them behind now. His shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, and his cravat hung loose. He wore no gloves or top hat, and his black hair was windswept from the speed with which he’d driven. His gleaming top boots were as impeccable as ever, marked only with the moisture from the grass.
She stared up at him for a moment, and then turned wretchedly away. ‘Please leave me alone, we have nothing more to say to each other.’
‘On the contrary, there’s much to be said.’ His gaze moved over her, taking in the cascade of honey-colored hair and the way her shoulders trembled as she strove to hide her misery.
‘I think you said it all last night, Adam,’ she said quietly. ‘You made yourself very clear indeed then.’
‘I was wrong.’
‘You were still prepared to believe it of me.’
‘Had you given me reason to trust your word?’
She bit her lip, blinking back fresh tears. ‘No.’ Her voice was barely audible.
‘We have to talk, Helen.’
Taking a deep breath, she managed to nod, closing her eyes again as he got down on the cushions beside her, lounging back with that effortless grace that was so much his mark. His very closeness made her tremble still more, for in spite of everything her senses betrayed her. She still wanted him so much, still needed him so much; still loved him so much….
He looked at her. ‘Helen, you aren’t the only one with confessions to make, I have some of my own. I’m ashamed of myself for treating you as I did right here last night, and in mitigation I can only say that I was driven by anger at learning your real identity and I was bitterly jealous that you’d apparently given to Ralph St John that which I so dearly craved myself.’
She swallowed, gazing at the prow of the boat without really seeing it. ‘If that was how you felt about me, why didn’t you just show Ralph’s letter to Gregory when he confronted you? Why did you let him believe you had tried to seduce me?’
‘A gentleman doesn’t tell tales on a lady, least of all on the lady he loves, even if she has apparently betrayed that love.’
Slowly she looked at him. ‘Loves? You said loves,’ she whispered.
‘Oh, yes, Helen, I love you; I think I’ve loved you from the moment I plucked you from beneath that stagecoach at the Cat and Fiddle.’ He smiled, reaching up to brush his fingers against her cheek. ‘I held you close in those brief moments and it was a sensation I more than enjoyed. A sensation I enjoyed still more, was kissing you on the lips just before I left. You were so adorably original, so refreshingly different, that I knew I had to see you again. You proved tantalizingly enigmatic, my mysterious Mrs Brown, and each time we met, you made more certain of my complete subjection.’
She stared at him. ‘You – you still love me?’ she breathed.
‘With all my base male heart.’ He reached up to brush his fingertips against her cheek. ‘Can you forgive me for saying those things to you last night?’
; Her senses were reeling. ‘If – if you forgive me for deceiving you.’
He drew her down to the cushions. ‘Oh, my darling, you’re forgiven a thousand times over.’
Her whole body was alive to him. ‘I tried to tell you,’ she whispered, tears of utter joy filling her eyes.
‘My poor darling,’ he said softly, ‘for it was a quite impossible confession.’ He leaned over her, running his fingers softly through her hair.
She closed her eyes as he bent to put his lips to her throat, and desire stirred richly through her. ‘A totally impossible confession,’ she breathed, submitting to the enticing warmth that was enveloping her.
‘Look at me, Helen.’
Slowly she opened her eyes, gazing up at him.
‘I have one last thing to ask of you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Will you marry me?’
Her heart soared. ‘Do you really want me?’ she whispered.
‘Oh, what a foolish question,’ he murmured, bending his head to kiss her.
Her lips parted beneath his, and an unbelievable happiness sang in her heart. She didn’t need to give him an answer, he knew by the warmth and ardor of her response that she was his.
By the Same Author
A Scandalous Publication
A Perfect Likeness
Copyright
© Sandra Heath 2007
First published in Great Britain 2007
This edition 2011
ISBN 978 0 7090 9755 6 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7090 9756 3 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7090 9757 0 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7090 8087 9 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Sandra Heath to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988