Nigel Garthwood would make sure of it himself.
Chapter Seven
Richard looked steadily across the table at Helena. She was not aware of his gaze, since she was serenely listening to a long-winded anecdote of Harry’s. She laughed in all the right places.
Damn Harry! If it wasn’t just like his little brother to turn up at the most inopportune moment. Richard had deliberately left early for London, thinking he could be back the same day. There had seemed no point in waking Helena. Already dressed for the road, he had stepped quietly into her chamber and gazed down at her sleeping face. Her mouth had been relaxed in a small smile, and her golden hair lay spread on the pillow around her.
The intense rush of desire had taken him entirely unaware. She was beautiful, his stranger wife. Beautiful and passionate and honest. She had responded to him like a lyre. He wanted nothing more than to make love to her again and continue to open to her all the enchanted paths of ardor.
Instead, he had turned and quietly left the room.
The business in town had taken longer than he planned. Firstly to close up his grandmother’s trust and sign all the necessary paperwork to transfer complete title for Acton Mead to himself and Helena. Then to change his will to reflect his new responsibility for her.
Richard was used to the urgency of the battlefield. Lawyers had no interest in speeding up their interminable timetables, even for the future Earl of Acton.
Then he had checked briefly with one of his men about the progress of the Paris affair.
“It’s a rum do, my lord, and that’s a fact. There’s someone with a keen mind behind it.”
“A keen mind and a dull conscience,” Richard had replied with a grimace.
Was there nothing more he could do? He might as well try to stop the tides. An earl’s son and heir had no true political power—only the vain hope to persuade his father. Yet the thought haunted him.
But mostly it had taken time to terminate his arrangement with Marie. She had proved awkward. She was a widow and they had been friends for years. Every time he had come back to England, Marie was waiting, though undoubtedly not faithfully. Why should his marriage make any difference to their friendship? Wouldn’t he still be lonely when he came to Town to do business?
And then the new Lady Lenwood would surely begin increasing soon and dear Richard would still have his needs. Marie would understand if he saw her less often, but to drop her entirely? A diamond bracelet and a discreet introduction to a future duke had finally done the trick, and she made him a tearful farewell.
“I shall miss you, Richard. Not many ladies have had such a lover.”
Perhaps Marie was right and he had been crazy to give her up. To trade a skilled courtesan’s charms for those of an innocent? But he would not go from her bed to Helena’s. In fact, he had thought of nothing else but Helena’s bed all the way from London to Acton Mead. And then he had found her kissing his brother in the garden.
“You’re not saying much, brother Dickon.” Harry laughed. “How can you presume to take a seat in the House of Lords when you can’t string two words together in a sentence at dinner?”
It seemed to Helena to amount almost to a challenge, but Richard merely smiled.
“At least when I am able to cobble together a phrase or two, Harry, I have something to say besides gossip.” His voice was perfectly casual.
“Your husband would have us believe, my lady, that still waters run deep, but we know better. Richard is struck dumb contemplating his coup.”
“What coup?” Helena asked.
“Marrying you, of course. Where did he find you? Drifting to shore in a scallop shell? Or running at night though the woods with your bow, a pack of white hounds at your heels?”
In spite of her misgivings, Helena laughed aloud.
“Not white hounds with red ears, like the ones that followed the goddess? You are ridiculous, aren’t you? Is that how you have such success with the maids?” Then she instantly relented as Harry’s expression turned from merriment to open astonishment. “Oh, forgive me, brother Harry! I’m just a country girl and I’m not used to your gallantry. As a matter of fact, Richard found me in a lane with a basket. Very prosaic, I assure you.”
Harry had recovered instantly. “Lady Lenwood, my brother has all the luck in this life.” He flung a hand in the air and began to declaim. “There was a poor fellow called Harry / Who long at the table did tarry—”
“I didn’t know that nonsense verses were a family trait,” Helena interrupted.
“Poor Harry did plot—”
“But it all came to naught / For the lady had already married,” Richard finished rapidly.
“That’s an insultingly poor rhyme, brother,” Harry said, pouring another glass of wine.
“Don’t quibble, sir!” Richard was laughing. “It’s good enough for the purpose.”
Harry turned to Helena. “I had hoped you and I might enter a conspiracy to hasten brother Dickon to his rest in the family plot at King’s Acton, but unless I thought I might have a chance with you after his demise, what would be the point?” He clasped his hands dramatically over his heart. “Say you would have me when Dickon turns up his toes, or the earldom will mean nothing!”
“I intend to outlive you, Harry,” Richard said with a grin. “I did not survive the Peninsula only to conveniently drop dead on my return. If you continue to act the fool, it will be your sudden demise that Helena will mourn. And unless you mend your sorry ways in a hurry, it will be I that hastens you to it.”
“A challenge! Noble brother, let us meet in the water meadow with pistols at dawn!”
“And get wet feet and a chill?” Helena said. “Let me leave you gentlemen to your port and you may fight it out in the comfort of the dining room.”
She rose to her feet and left the table. When she reached the safety of the hall, she leaned her head for a moment against the cool plaster wall. Richard had been gone three days and then hardly given her a glance since his return. He had walked through the rooms that she had opened without a murmur.
“I hope you aren’t displeased, Richard,” she had managed to whisper to him. “I thought I had best begin to uncover the furniture at least.”
“How could I be displeased?” he had said. “This is your home. Do as you like.”
Then Harry had reclaimed his brother’s attention. Well, she must stifle this terrible longing. Richard had married her for the house and to fulfill a promise to Edward. He had not pretended otherwise. She was to be a housekeeper and, presumably, bear him an heir. Nothing more. The barbed words of the countess rang in her ears. She must not impose on his freedom.
The door to the dining room opened as a footman carried in a tray and she heard Harry’s merry voice ring quite clear for a moment.
“Devil take it, Richard! I’d give my eyeteeth to be in your shoes at this moment. Three days in London to cavort with your delectable mistress. So how is Marie?”
* * *
Helena went straight to her chamber and to bed. Eventually, she was even able to go to sleep. She was wakened by the sound of the door softly closing and sat up. No one was in the room.
Had Richard come to her and found her asleep, and not liked to disturb her? Or had he merely been checking on her before retiring to dreams of his mistress? Damnation! Lady Acton had made things more than clear. How could she be so foolish? She was fascinated by a man she barely knew, who already had a life from which she was totally excluded. Somehow she would have to make a meaningful existence for herself and allow him to go his own way.
Yet it would be easier if Richard weren’t quite so devastatingly attractive.
She awoke next to a burst of birdsong. Richard sat on her bed.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
Helena gazed up at him. He was wearing only the blue dressing gown. Sunlight danced over the planes of his face and struck golden lights in his hair. His eyes seemed fathomless.
“Is it morning?”
�
�I’m going to ride as far as the village with Harry, before I pack him off.”
Sitting up, she glanced out of the window. “But it’s barely dawn.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
“What’s why you’re here?”
Richard smiled suddenly, and Helena tried to stop her heart from running away.
“I have an hour I can spend with you, if you will let me.”
An hour! He would fit her in between his other obligations whenever he could spare a moment. Marie had been given three days.
“Of course,” she said.
His fingers reached for her cheek and lingered there for a moment. Then he shrugged out of the dressing gown and slipped in between the sheets. The glimpse of his lean body made her instantly breathless.
“I owe you another apology,” he said, turning and stroking the hair away from her face. “It was not my intention to leave you so long without notice. Yet you don’t seem to have missed me. Are you always so self-contained and competent?”
She did not want to say it. Had she no pride left at all? But it was only the truth.
“I missed you,” she said.
“Oh, God, sweet Helena!”
His lips seared her mouth with the intensity of his desire. She felt herself respond with abandon. Savor these moments, she told herself, nothing else matters.
* * *
Nigel Garthwood stood quietly in the woods and contemplated the house. So Richard Acton was the son of an earl! It made no difference at all. He had watched Richard ride away with a younger dark-haired man. They were laughing together. A brother, perhaps? That could be more than useful. He would pursue it.
A few moments later Helena herself stepped out with a basket. Garthwood watched her disappear into the gardens. There seemed to be a dearth of staff, so it should be no problem at all to pursue his goal. And if he were not successful? An earl’s son was as vulnerable as a tinker’s was.
The long lips curved into a smile, and Garthwood moved silently through the shrubbery and up to the side door.
* * *
Helena came back into the house with her basket full of autumn flowers. She moved steadily through the rooms, filling vases and urns with the bounty of the late dowager countess’s gardens. A door banged somewhere, but she was intent on her task.
When Richard came into the room, she looked up and smiled. The smile died on her lips.
“What the devil were you looking for in my room?”
“Your room?”
“I would rather you didn’t parrot me like the nymph who haunted Narcissus.”
Helena felt her heart contract. “I have never been in your room.”
He raised a brow. “The entire house is yours to do with as you like. I require only that my study and my bedchamber be private. If you need something, you have only to ask.”
“I have respected that.”
“Helena, I have lived for years in a world of shifting sands. I thought you were honest. For God’s sake, who else would dare to disturb my things?”
“I don’t know. One of the maids? Harry?”
“Not even Mrs. Hood would dream of it, and I trust my brother as I trust myself. Harry may appear a rattle-brained dandy, but his honor is absolute.”
“And mine isn’t?”
“Apparently not!” He wrung his hand over his face. “Oh, devil take it! I’m sorry. Forget I said that! Harry and I were talking about something that made me particularly bloody-minded. I had no right at all to take it out on you.”
“You have just accused me of rifling through your possessions and then denying it. You impugn my honor, then you expect me to pretend it never happened? Like Narcissus, do you do nothing but gaze at your own reflection in a pool and think of the feelings of no one else? I thought we could live together in harmony, but if you doubt my word, my position here is untenable. As for your brother, if he has so little principle that he would seize a maidservant and kiss her as a matter of habit, then your definition of honor is not the same as mine.”
“Harry would not dream of kissing the maids, Helena. In spite of your apron, he knew it was you. It was getting the news from our mother of my marriage that sent him here in the first place. He wanted to see what you were like.”
“By kissing me?”
Richard looked amused. “That was just because he saw I was coming, of course.”
“You mean he deliberately wanted to challenge you, using me?” Helena stepped forward and laid her hand on his sleeve. “Did you mean it when you said you would call him out? What on earth is between you?”
“Whatever is between my brother and me doesn’t concern you. How could it?”
His face gave away nothing. Why was she forcing a quarrel with him? Was her dignity so important? Confused, Helena stepped back.
Her hand came away with a trace of red across the palm.
“Oh, heavens, you’re hurt!”
Richard glanced down at the tear in his sleeve and the trace of blood that was beginning to dry on the fabric.
“It’s nothing, a scratch. I was winged in the woods after Harry left.”
“Richard, what on earth happened?”
He smiled with an amused indifference. “A poacher appears to have mistaken me for a partridge. Luckily he was not a better shot. Scattered a few feathers, that’s all.”
“You were shot?”
Richard laughed. “Don’t look so horrified. I’ve survived worse. The village lads have undoubtedly been in the habit of supplementing their larders with the bounty of my grandmother’s woods and haven’t yet learned the difference between the master and his game. Some luckless fellow is now cowering in his mother’s house in fear of the hangman. Though I regret his attempt to ventilate me, I shan’t try to hunt him down.”
“But you could have been killed.”
“And was not. It is a matter of no moment whatsoever. Now, if you would kindly stop looking as if you had just heard the knell of doom?”
Helena flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to refine so much on an accident. And meanwhile, there is still the matter of your room. I beg you will believe me. Mrs. Hood explained your wishes to me when I first arrived and I have honored that absolutely. I did not go in there.”
“Being mistaken for St. Stephen apparently caused more holes in my thinking than in my coat. I hope they will be as easy to mend.”
Helena stared up at him. His eyes were unfathomable. “Is that an apology?”
He reached out a hand, and his long fingers gently caressed her cheek.
“I don’t know,” he said very softly. “There is no one else, you see. I have already asked Mrs. Hood. She is organizing the staff. She had all the maidservants in her room for instructions the entire morning. They are to learn to leave the books in the library alone except for the dust they can reach with a goose wing, and to use tea leaves to settle the dirt on the floors before sweeping. None of the maids had the opportunity.”
“You would take the word of the housekeeper over mine?”
“I have known Mrs. Hood since I was a child, Helena. I apologize for accusing you without evidence, and of course I must accept your word. It’s a perfectly trivial thing anyway. Yet someone disturbed my papers while I was out. And I would like it very much if you, dear wife, did not seem to be the last person I can trust.”
Richard turned on his heel and left her in the wreckage of the flowers that had dropped unnoticed around her feet.
* * *
Harry rode away from Acton Mead with a slight frown. What Richard had told him was extremely disturbing. If it wasn’t just like his brother to inform him of trouble, then leave out the details and demand that he not interfere. Although in this case it seemed there was nothing he could do. Harry, of course, did not reveal all of his own intentions either. For instance, he was not planning to go straight back to Oxford. Nor, however, was he planning on being followed.
Since he was in no hurry and hadn’t given a thought to any
kind of secrecy, his pursuer didn’t have the least difficulty in tracing him. In fact, at the inn where Harry stopped for lunch and ordered himself a dish of oysters, the pursuer had already caught up.
“I believe we’ve met, sir,” a tall gentleman said with an unpleasant smile.
Harry looked up in annoyance from his oysters and gave the fellow an insolent stare.
“You’re mistaken, sir. I never clapped eyes on you in my life.”
“Then please forgive me if I have interrupted your luncheon. The inn is so full, I felt my heart lift when I thought I saw an old acquaintance who could offer me a place at his table.”
Harry recognized a hint when he heard it, and he laughed at the fellow’s effrontery. The place was indeed crowded. It didn’t matter to him in the least if the chap wanted to share his table.
“Then by all means, sit down, sir. The oysters are excellent.”
Nigel Garthwood took the chair indicated and offered to share a bottle of wine in gratitude.
“You would seem to be a man of the world, sir,” he began.
Within thirty minutes Garthwood and Harry were laughing together in apparent amity, and Garthwood had turned the discussion to Harry’s family. Though Harry was normally more reticent with strangers, by the end of the afternoon there was little that Nigel Garthwood thought he had left to learn about Richard Acton, Viscount Lenwood, the man who had so inconveniently married Helena Trethaerin.
* * *
Helena awoke that night to the distinct sound of a cry. Was it an owl? She sat up in bed and listened. Moonlight shone brightly across the fine carpet on the floor. Perhaps she had imagined it? Then, quite distinctly, she heard a low moan. No wild creature ever made such a soul-disturbing sound.
Slipping quietly from the bed, she took up her dressing gown and wrapped it around her shoulders. There was a slight thud, which resolved itself instantly into footsteps pacing in the bedchamber next to hers.
Without hesitation she went to the door to Richard’s room and knocked. It opened to reveal the fair head edged with the glint of silver in the moonlight. His silk dressing gown appeared black in the shadows.
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