His only chance to change Helen’s mind was the ball tonight. If he failed to appear, he feared he might not get another.
In Oxford Street, Jason left Dalby with the horses and strode into Madam Bernard’s salon, causing a lady to shriek and disappear behind a curtain.
Madam Bernard erupted from a dressing room, moving with surprising speed for one so well endowed. “Milord?”
“Madam. I believe my sister, Lady Greywood, is here?”
“Yes. Milord.” The modiste turned and addressed the stunned servant with her. “Annie, fetch Lady Greywood. “Would you care to take a seat in the salon, Lord Peyton? A glass of wine, perhaps?”
Relieved to find Lizzie safe, Jason tamped down his impatience, keen to continue his pursuit. “No, thank you.”
Madam Bernard twisted the tape measure around her neck with her fingers. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if I can assist Lady Greywood.”
“Thank you.”
As Jason stalked the now empty salon, Lizzie hurried from the dressing room in her wrap. “Jason! What has happened?”
He quickly explained and told her to go home as soon as she could and stay there. “I shall endeavor to return in time to escort you to the ball.”
She placed a hand on Jason’s arm, her eyes dark. “Oh, Jason. You must want to see Lady Helen tonight. This is all my fault. You will take care, won’t you?”
“None of this is your fault, Lizzie. There’s nothing to fear. I have an able-bodied runner with me.”
He joined Dalby, and they rode through the London streets. “It rained heavily during the night,” Jason said. “The muddy roads might slow the carriage up.”
Dalby nodded. “We’ll get ’em, yer lordship.”
“I want to bring them back alive, Dalby,” Jason called before taking advantage of the clear stretch ahead. He squeezed his horse’s flanks, urging Icarus into a gallop.
“Right you are,” Dalby replied as he rode alongside him. “Providing they come peaceable like.”
Chapter Eighteen
“By God, you have sired a pair of beauties, Kinsey!” Lord Nicholas smiled at Helen and Diana as he stood at the ballroom door with their parents to receive the first of the guests. Helen curtseyed, and Diana, giggling, followed suit. One could always count on Uncle Nicholas for his support. His kind words were appreciated, but it was Diana’s beauty that would eclipse every young woman here tonight. Diana hadn’t wished to wear white, but the silk sheath clung to her tall elegant figure and was the perfect foil for her fresh beauty, setting off her copper ringlets caught up with satin ribbon and silk rosebuds.
As Fiske announced the guests, Helen searched for Peyton. By ten o’clock, the last guests had arrived, and the doors were closed. The ballroom was packed with people, the crystal chandelier showering a myriad of dancing lights upon the convivial crowd. As she walked through the room, she caught snatches of conversation about George IV’s coronation which was to be held in July, and how Queen Caroline was prevented from attending.
Pleased not to be the subject of gossipers, Helen took note that the hired waiters were doing as instructed, threading their way through the guests with trays bearing glasses of brandy and claret punch. The Master of Ceremonies announced a quadrille, and the orchestra sprang to life on the dais.
A large group of gentlemen immediately converged on Diana. She gracefully accepted a young marquess’ son who had been introduced to her moments before. Helen caught her mother’s eye and smiled. She turned to where Fiske stood alone at the door. Peyton had not come. It didn’t surprise her; she’d been very convincing in her refusal of his proposal. If only she’d convinced herself! Was it possible for a heart to actually ache?
A distant cousin of her mother’s, newly widowed, approached Helen, and forcing a smile, she took his arm. Tonight was Diana’s, and she must never allow her misery to become obvious.
An hour later, Helen entered the supper room to ensure that everything was in readiness for the guests. Tempting aromas wafted through the room. The white-linen-covered tables were laden with delectable hot and cold dishes; a tureen of white soup, collared beef, artichoke hearts, silver salvers of lobster, pyramids of crayfish, and sandwiches. Luscious trifles and sweet meats sat amid fine crystal and china, sparkling silverware, and silver urns of decorative fruits and flowers. Gilt chairs lined the walls for the guests, and servants stood ready to serve them claret, champagne, sherry, hock, or port.
Helen went in search of her parents, only to find Peyton talking to them, his dark good looks set off to perfection by his midnight black evening clothes and sparkling white cravat. His sister, the dark-haired Lady Greywood, stood beside him dressed in deep violet, with a handsome young gentleman of similar coloring who must be Charlie.
Helen stood for a moment unsure whether to join them. Aware she blushed, she tried to tamp down her delight at finding him here. Peyton’s eyes lifted to hers. He sent her a special smile as if they shared a secret. She returned his smile with a shy one of her own but had no idea what she would say to him; she was just so very glad to see him. She began to make her way through the groups of chatting people.
Peyton bowed over her hand. “Lady Helen. I believe you know my sister?”
“I do. Lady Greywood, how delightful to see you again.”
“And you, Lady Helen.”
“I should like to introduce you to my brother, Viscount Brinkley,” Peyton said.
Charles bowed before her. His charming smile would interest the ladies.
“I must apologize. We are unforgivably late.” Lizzie fiddled with her fan, her eyes shadowed. “My brother has only just returned to London.”
“You were called away, my lord?” Helen asked.
“Yes. Unexpectedly.” He held out his arm. “The musicians are about to play, Lady Helen. I believe you promised me a waltz?”
They joined the swirling dancers. Helen slipped into his arms, feeling as if she belonged there.
“Lizzie’s suitor turned out to be a rogue,” Peyton explained. “An imposter who forged and sold art.” He reversed her expertly in a swift turn.
Helen gained her breath, only to lose it again when she met his intense green eyes. “That is a dreadful shame. Lady Greywood did appear downhearted.” What had occurred earlier in the evening? Had Peyton come into danger? Would he tell her if he had? “You went to apprehend him?”
“It was necessary to bring the fellow to justice. Lizzie is disappointed naturally but also greatly relieved to have discovered the truth in time. A Bow Street runner and I caught up with them on their way to Liverpool.” He smiled down at her “But that’s a story for another time.” His eyes softened. “You look lovely tonight. You should wear that color often. In fact, I rather fancy picking a posy of lilacs for you in the woods at Peyton Grove.”
“That is a nice thought.” She was blushing again, but she didn’t care. Just being in his arms had turned the night into something magical.
“It can become a reality if you would say yes.”
She couldn’t deal with this now and struggled to find a change of topic. “Charles seems rather like you.”
He widened his eyes. “You think so?”
“He has that devil-may-care air.”
Peyton grinned. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
She laughed and glanced over to where Charles flirted with a shy young debutante. “He seems to have recovered well from the disappointment over Miss Groton.”
“The young bounce back.” He tightened his clasp on her hand. “We older gentlemen do not.”
Despite his flippant words, he looked troubled, making her want to reach up to touch his cheek. Knowing she was the cause of it, she almost couldn’t bear it. “Peyton, I—”
“Shall we talk when there is no one to overhear us?” he asked, his deep, sensual voice sending tingles through her.
For a moment, she’d almost forgotten where they were. That they were surrounded by an interested audience who
had not seen her dance for several years.
When the music died away, Peyton led her from the dance floor. “Will you come with me to the terrace?”
That was entirely too risky. She didn’t trust herself. “My parents will notice.”
“Does it matter? However, I have my doubts. My brother has just made a beeline for your sister.”
“Oh?” Helen laughed. “He will have to stand in line.”
“We Peytons are patient souls.”
“Are you? I don’t remember noticing that quality in you, sir.”
“Not always. Not when there is something we very much want.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “Will you come?”
“I need to visit the supper room to make sure everything is going smoothly.”
“There’s no need.” He put a hand to his ear. “Listen.”
She grinned. “Listen to what?”
“The contented sounds emanating from that direction. It appears that no one is loudly complaining of starving to death.”
She conceded and with a laugh, allowed him to guide her out through the doors that led onto the stone terrace overlooking the park.
“We have it to ourselves,” Peyton said. “Arranged perfectly with orchestra taking a break and the guests in at supper.”
She shook her head. “And you are taking credit for that?”
“But of course. Timing is everything.”
“Ho! You are very good at turning an incident to your advantage, Peyton.”
“My sweet,” he said softly, “you have no idea.”
Her face grew hot, and her belly tightened under his passionate gaze. She loved to banter with him. She’d like to do it for the rest of her life. The soft evening breeze stirred the curls at her temple. What was she thinking? She pushed her hair back into place, the raised arch of scar a bitter reminder. Her chest tightened, and she felt slightly ill. The moment when she must tell him the truth was upon her. Then the enjoyment of the evening would be at an end. So soon. She wanted more time. More…of him.
“Peyton, I—”
“Jason, please.”
Nervous, she glanced around, determined not to involve him in gossip. “I can’t call you that!”
“Just for tonight?” He took her hands and drew her to the shadowy end of the terrace away from the flaming torches. “Now. No one shall hear but us.”
“Jason,” she murmured, knowing he would kiss her and helpless to resist.
He gently smoothed a thumb along her bottom lip. “I like how intimate my name sounds on your lips,” he murmured. He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. An explosion of desire inflamed her, her hands on his nape pulling him closer. Jason gasped and enfolded her snug in his arms. Breathing him in, she melted into him, and her fingers threaded through his silky hair. Held close against his hard chest she never wanted to leave his arms.
Finally, logic won out over the urgent demands of her body. She broke away and placed a hand on his waistcoat to put some space between them. She could feel his heart beating as fast as hers and grew afraid she would cry. “Please. I cannot…”
“Is it because you don’t want me?” he asked, his voice low and urgent. “Your kisses prove otherwise.”
“No! You must not think that. But I must explain…”
“Is it because of that rakehell, Lawley?”
Horrified, she stared at him. “You know?”
“Lizzie only just told me. She was there that night. I wish I could have dealt with him, sweetheart.”
Helen released a long sigh. “I feared you would want to. But I won’t allow you to involve yourself in this.”
“Is it the only reason you won’t marry me?”
She refused to answer, knowing he would discount her fears. She wanted desperately to throw caution to the winds. But she could not, would not, endanger him and tried to explain. “When I heard that shot in the library and feared it was you who had been hurt, it almost brought me to my knees. Even if you gave me your promise not to approach him, Lawley is the revengeful sort. He would challenge you. I don’t believe you would refuse that challenge. Now that his father has died and he’s inherited a baronetcy, I am certain he will return soon to claim it.”
She held a finger to his lips when he tried to interrupt her. “There’s something I’ve never told anyone, not even my mother. After that night when he…Lawley bailed me up in Bond Street when I was shopping with my maid, just before he left England. He furiously stood over me and would have struck me if the street hadn’t been so busy. He blamed me for his father disowning him and threatened to find me when he returned to England and.”—she swallowed the lump blocking her throat and dropped her head with the shame of it— “have me again.”
“The devil!” Jason growled. “I only wish I could call him out.” He cupped her chin, raising her eyes to his. “Darling, Helen. You have such little faith in me. I just delivered a pair of slippery customers to Bow Street tonight before they escaped justice. I am perfectly capable of dealing with someone like Lawley. But…”
“You cannot—.”
He shook his head when she would argue. “Listen, my love. Lawley will never return. I’ve made inquiries about him at Horse Guards. He’s dead.”
“Dead?” She clutched his arm when her knees threatened to give way. “When? How?”
“Quite recently. The news has only just reached London. Knifed in some Calais tavern. He was on his way home to England.”
Helen struggled to believe it. She knew the hateful man’s threat had been real and had expected him at every ball and soirée she’d attended since. Then all the humiliation and distress and fear would have returned with him. Now, he never would. She blinked back the rush of tears.
“Cry if you must, my love. You have been so brave.” Jason drew a cambric square from his pocket and gently dried the tears on her cheeks.
With a tremulous smile, she clutched his lapel and sniffed. Her body seemed to have lost its ability to remain upright without assistance. “You can’t know what hearing this means to me.”
“I can only guess at it, sweetheart.” He pocketed his handkerchief. “So, now if you can offer no further reason to refuse me?” He sank gracefully down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Helen?”
“Oh yes, yes.” She pulled at his hands. “Get up, please. Your clothes will be quite ruined.”
“My valet will forgive me when he hears the reason. Bit of a romantic is Hicks.”
When he rose, she studied his dear face. “Are you sure, Peyton?”
“Jason,” he amended. “I want you very much, Helen. But are you sure, sweetheart?”
With a nod, she looped her arms around his neck.
Jason wasted no time in kissing her.
“Father will be pleased,” she said when their kiss ended and she began to think clearly again.
“I hope he will.”
“You don’t know how much. Jason was an ancient Greek hero. The Argonauts. Think how well you will fit into the family.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Does that mean that our children will all be called after ancient Greeks?”
“I’m afraid it will be expected. I don’t care for some of them either.” She grinned. “It has become a family tradition, which I felt you should be warned about. You don’t want to change your mind?”
“No, but I draw the line at Aeson or Iolcos,” he said huskily. He kissed her lingeringly again.
Her pulse raced. She still couldn’t believe it. Was Lawley really dead? “Why do you want to marry me?”
“Why?” He paused. “Apart from the fact that my breath catches in my throat every time I see you?”
She breathed deeply, trying not to cry. He had that same effect on her.
“The first time I met you, I was struck with how unselfishly you cared for others. It’s time someone took care of you, my love. And made things right. I want to give you the kind of life you were meant to live. I can’t claim it’s entirely
unselfish of me. I hope you will lavish some of that love and affection you have for your family on me.”
“I want to, Jason,” she choked on the words. “Very much. I love you so. I think I always did.”
His mouth curved with tenderness. “No, my love. Not at first. You were distrustful and suspicious of me.”
“Well, yes, that’s true. But even so, I wanted you.”
Jason’s green eyes, raw with need, locked with hers. “Just how much do you want me?”
“This much.” She kissed him with a passion she never believed herself capable of.
“Peyton?” A young voice came from the door.
They broke apart as Toby shuffled forward, yawning behind his hand. He eyed Helen with surprise, which faded as he addressed Jason. “You promised to introduce me to Mr. Nash, Peyton. He’s here tonight, you know.”
***
In the ballroom, Jason cast a possessive glance at Helen, slender and seemingly fragile in her lilac gown. He knew that to be deceiving. She was brave, capable, and strong. She’d spoken very fondly of Cherrywood and her dog, Bertie. He hoped she would come to love Peyton Grove.
At the news, Lady Kinsey, elegant in a gold turban and flowing bronze silk, cried and begged a handkerchief from her husband.
Lord Kinsey shook Jason’s hand. “Congratulations, Peyton. I knew immediately that you were the man for Helen. I’m delighted you were able to convince her of it.” He kissed Helen on both cheeks. “I see I shall have to manage without you on my travels, my dear.”
Jason could detect little disappointment behind Kinsey’s words and suspected he hadn’t wanted the distraction of a vulnerable young woman while he delved into the mysteries of the East.
“I would prefer us to marry soon.” Jason smiled at his fiancée. “But Helen feels we should wait until the Season ends, don’t you, my love? To offer our support to Diana.”
“That might be prudent. A hasty marriage causes gossip,” Lady Kinsey said. “And heaven knows we’ve suffered enough of that.”
“And will no doubt suffer more of it,” Kinsey said. “Our children tend to thumb their noses at etiquette.” They followed his gaze to where Diana stood laughing with several young men grouped around her. “Let the gossipers say what they like. Time takes care of that nonsense. I can see how well Diana handles the young beaux. She is a force to be reckoned with. And Helen has spent her whole life supporting others. It is time she considered her own needs.”
Unmasking Lady Helen: The Kinsey Family (The Kinsey Family Series Book 1) Page 17