“Oh, Richard’s never tired, are you, sir? And that’s the rules—the person who gets caught is the next Hoodman.”
“And the rules must be obeyed?” Richard said. “Where is the blindfold? I am ready.”
Helena watched as Joanna secured the strip of black cloth over her husband’s eyes. He was spun with the greatest enthusiasm by John, who then ran off gasping with delight.
Richard took two steps to the sofa, vaulted over the innocent piece of furniture, and caught Milly firmly around the waist. Only the slightest hesitation as he reached for the carved back with his hand would have betrayed to an observer that he was totally blind.
That easy confidence made Helena’s breath catch in her throat.
It was then Milly’s turn to catch John.
“Enough!” Helena said at last. “I am sorely winded and we must have enough breath left to sing tonight.”
Dinner was passed in a state close to uproar. After they had gathered at the piano and sung carols together, Helena had promised to tuck Milly in bed. As soon as she had gone, John and Joanna settled into a moderately quiet game of cards.
Richard walked over to Eleanor, where she still sat at the piano, softly playing old songs.
“What on earth is going on?” he asked seriously.
Eleanor raised a brown brow and smiled. “Going on? What makes you suppose anything is going on?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean, Eleanor, and I shall strangle you with my bare hands if you don’t explain. I don’t imagine a double whipping at Eton has so reformed John. Nor that Joanna’s putting up her beautiful hair has given her so much forbearance. I can’t ever remember Milly not displaying either panics or sulks. And instead of looking frazzled, you, my beloved child, are blooming.”
“You must ask Helena, dear brother. I’m afraid I arrived here with a horrid cold and spent far too many days in bed than was fair. By the time I came down, all was as you see: peace in the family—”
“—and goodwill to all Actons?”
She grinned at him, stopped playing, and hugged his arm. “Perhaps you married an angel by mistake?”
Richard smiled and returned the hug. “I wish I could think so, sister mine.”
Eleanor was left to wonder why his voice carried so much pain beneath the surface banter.
* * *
Two hours later Richard sat alone by the fire and stared into the flames. The others, including Helena, had gone off to bed. He sipped absently at a very fine brandy and thought through very carefully everything he knew. However he cudgeled at the facts, they still left one inescapable conclusion: Garthwood had no reason to harm him, unless he expected to benefit through Helena. Yet why should he, unless Helena were a willing partner?
How could he have been so foolish as to lose his heart to her, when she was still little more than a stranger? He was not even sure how it had happened, but like a thief in the night, she had robbed him of his freedom. He felt obsessed. And that was dangerous.
How easy to have one’s judgment clouded when the object of suspicion pulled at his heart like the Lorelei. How on earth could he discover the truth? At last he stood and tossed the dregs of his glass into the flames. The brandy flared up in a blaze of blue light. There was one simple solution. He would ask her.
* * *
Helena had gone to bed, but she was not asleep. She lay and stared at the ceiling and chased thoughts about in her head like a flock of confused sheep. Richard had gone off to France when? —six? —no, more than seven weeks ago.
He had not come to see her when he came back to England, had not even sent her a message. Charles de Dagonet had stopped by to see her, but not at Richard’s request.
Were even his friends concerned for him? Did they know that Harry was a threat to his brother?
Then Dagonet had told her nothing of where Richard had been or what he was doing. Was Marie French? Had Richard taken her to the new Bourbon court with him? And why had he come back now? Only, surely, because the children were there for Christmas.
They had married with no pretensions to love. All he owed her was courtesy and financial security, and he had more than given her that. She had no right whatsoever to make further demands on his time or his energy. If Marie had his heart, she could neither interfere, nor in honor allow him to be confronted with her anguish over it.
With that thought, Richard walked into the room.
Helena sat up and tried to school her features, so that he wouldn’t guess that her heart was pounding like a steam engine. Her hair lay over her shoulder in a single long plait. She glanced down at it, golden where it lay against the soft folds of her nightgown. Her bare arms seemed very white on the coverlet.
Was her whole body shaking? Could he tell the effect he had on her?
Richard sat down beside her on the bed. His silk dressing gown lay open at the neck.
She looked up and watched the steady beat of the pulse at his throat.
“Helena, I must talk with you,” he said seriously. “There is something that lies between us. It has kept me away from you. God knows, I didn’t intend it to be this way.”
With sudden dread she felt certain that he was going to tell her about Marie. That he was in love with his mistress and would never be coming back to Acton Mead. Once it was out in the open, she could no longer pretend to ignore it. He would no longer feel that he owed her even these brief visits. It was more than she could bear.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said lightly. “Don’t tell me anything! We don’t owe each other our secrets. I’ve never expected more from you than what you’ve already given me. You’re here now, and that’s all that counts.”
Gathering her courage, Helena leaned forward and kissed him. She meant to offer comfort, perhaps, for the indefinable pain that seemed to haunt his black eyes, and even a defiant gesture of understanding about Marie.
In the next moment Richard buried his fingers in her hair and was ravishing the warm sweetness of her mouth. The braid fell apart under his hands. He pulled her with him into the cocoon of the sheets. The dark print of his dressing gown enfolded the white sheen of her discarded night rail when it slipped silent and unheeded to the floor.
Richard barely noticed, lost in the scent and feel and taste of her. If she wanted him dead, he would die. Nothing mattered now except her open lips and sensitive skin, and the welcome and peace he could find in her bed.
* * *
Helena awoke in the morning to only a memory of his strength and passion. He was gone.
At the breakfast table when she came down, he was already occupied with Milly on one side and John on the other, being given a detailed account of the state of Bayard’s health and spirits. Eleanor and Joanna were laughing together on the other side of the table. Joanna had so forgotten herself as to tie her lustrous black hair back in a simple ribbon. She looked very much like a little girl again.
“Oh, Dickon,” she said suddenly, “can’t we do some silly verses like we used to when Grandmama was alive?”
“I want one about me!” Milly squealed.
“Very well, who’ll start?”
“I shall!” John stood and bowed, then began to intone, flinging out his arm in a melodramatic gesture. “There once was a creature called Milly—”
“Who went out whene’er it was chilly—” Eleanor said right away. “You took the easy line, John.”
“But although we had snow,” Richard added solemnly, giving Milly a wink, “the sled wouldn’t go—”
“Since she couldn’t tell flat land from hilly. Hello, everyone!”
“Harry!” Joanna leaped up to run around the table to embrace the brother whose dark head looked so like hers.
“The same, beloved children. Let me get a breath, Jo, for heaven’s sake! Hello, Eleanor, you look beautiful, dear child, as does our Milly. Has Helena been feeding you on ambrosia and syllabub?”
“Hardly,” Helena whispered, her pulse thundering. Harry!
�
��And John would seem to have joined our ranks, Dickon, and become, to no one’s surprise but his own, a gentleman, after all. I have brought a few bottles of that exquisite port I mentioned, brother dear. You will toast the season with me, I trust?”
“Of course,” Richard said, reaching out to shake his brother’s hand. “Welcome to Acton Mead!”
Harry bowed to Helena as she rose at last to greet him.
“Your humble servant, sweet sister-in-law,” he said. “And Merry Christmas! Am I in time for the roast goose and sausages?”
Chapter Seventeen
That afternoon Helena watched Richard as he took his seat at the head of the table. The curtains in the dining room had already been drawn against the dim winter light. Fresh snow was falling from leaden skies outside to coat the countryside.
No one would ever know that he had last come here in disguise because his very life was forfeit. Laughing and joking with his brothers and sisters, he seemed suffused with a golden glow. Did he feel no fear at all?
After the roast goose, the mince pies, the frumenty and ginger, Mrs. Hood herself carried in the plum pudding, which had been steamed tied up in a cloth, and which the children had helped stir. Blue flames danced around a holly twig on the brandy-soaked pudding.
Helena laughed and applauded with the rest. She was determined that no one should discover that her heart was heavy with dread.
Harry was back. Would Richard be attacked again?
Christmas dinner was over and the cloth had just been cleared when Williams came in and bowed stiffly.
“There is a gentleman come to the door, my lord. I have shown him into the study. He claims to be a relation.”
Richard looked up. He was sucking at slightly singed fingers where he had been playing at Snapdragon with Milly and John. John had snatched the most raisins from the flames, but Milly made no objection since Richard was sharing his booty with them both.
“Did the fellow give a name?”
“A Mr. Nigel Garthwood, my lord.”
Richard leaped to his feet. “The devil!” he said softly.
Helena hesitated only a moment before following him from the room. She hadn’t seen her cousin since leaving Trethaerin. What on earth was he doing here?
As she came up to the study door, she was in time to hear Richard’s voice. It was tight with anger.
“You honor us with your presence, sir, at Christmastide, but you will see that with the house full of children, it would be more than tiresome for you to stay. Perhaps I may send a man with you to arrange a room in the nearest town?”
Helena opened the door and went in. Her cousin’s arms were laden with packages.
“How do you do, Mr. Garthwood? May we offer you the felicitations of the season?” she said calmly.
“Dear Lady Lenwood.” Garthwood bowed his head and smiled. “I am called to London on business. From the sensibility of family feeling and duty I wanted to stop by to see how you go on. I had no idea how secluded you are here. Now I find myself benighted on Christmas Day. I hope you will allow me to offer you some small gifts in appreciation for your hospitality?”
Richard’s voice was colder than the weather outside. “That will not be necessary, sir. As I was saying—”
Embarrassed, Helena cut him off. “No, of course, you must stay the night. Welcome to Acton Mead, cousin.” She rang the bell. “Williams, would you show Mr. Garthwood to the green room? He will be our guest for tonight.”
With much bowing and scraping Nigel Garthwood set down his gifts and left the room in the wake of the servant.
Richard waited until he had gone, then he turned to Helena with a force that she could feel across the room.
“How dare you! I will not have that man under my roof.”
She had never seen him really angry before. She took a deep breath, but she stood her ground. Richard should not bully her out of doing what was right.
“For heaven’s sake, he’s my cousin. I do not pretend to be happy to see him, but it’s Christmas Day.”
“And for that you hazard countermanding my wishes, madam?”
A miserable shaking started somewhere deep inside. Richard stalked to the fireplace and stared into the flames, then spun to face her. His hair shone bright gold, but the lines of his face were rigid with fury above the snowy folds of his cravat.
Helena’s knees felt weak, but she faced him and kept her voice calm.
“It is now snowing hard and it’s dark outside. Surely there is enough charity in this house that we can give him a bed, however grudgingly, for one night? I will not stand here and see anyone turned out into the weather, even Nigel Garthwood.”
“You don’t know what he is.”
“I know that I don’t like him, though he never really gave me reason for that dislike. When my father’s will left me destitute, Mr. Garthwood allowed me to stay on unmolested at Trethaerin for months. Now that Edward is dead, he’s my only living relative. What possible harm can he do? Why don’t you forget about him and concentrate on Harry instead?”
His fist thudded into the mantel. Helena flinched.
“For God’s sake,” he said at last, his voice barely under control. “You welcome Garthwood to this house, then dare to express concern about my brother? Harry kissed you once in the garden and you are so vindictive that you still hold that against him?”
“No, it’s not that—”
“Then what? I thought you truly feared your cousin, but it seems I was wrong. Were you acting at Trethaerin? Because if so, you’re a damned good actress. Both of us are going to have to show our thespian talents, aren’t we, if we’re to get through the rest of the day without disgracing ourselves in front of my brothers and sisters and spoiling their holiday, after all. I thought— Oh, damn it all to hell!”
Richard turned on his heel and strode from the room.
* * *
The rest of the family was too sated with food and excitement to notice if Helena was a little more quiet and distracted than before. She wasn’t required to do much more than bury her fear, as she had long been in the habit of doing.
Richard had gone to the stable, ostensibly to wish the best of the season to his beloved charger. When he came in, his good humor seemed unchanged, even though Nigel Garthwood had now joined the family in the drawing room. There was no hint in Richard’s courteous good manners that he was anything but delighted to welcome his wife’s cousin.
Amid much secret hilarity they opened Garthwood’s packages. Helena’s unctuous cousin, who had suddenly turned up from nowhere, had brought gifts for them all. The Actons received his generosity with polite thanks, even though some of the gifts were a little odd in the children’s eyes—particularly the china doll for Joanna, who had outgrown such things years before. Yet they all knew that one must be gracious in public, even if it was more than human nature could stand not to laugh to oneself in private afterward.
There was a gold chain for Helena and an enameled snuffbox for Richard. As her husband made polite acknowledgments, she wondered briefly why her cousin should have gone to so much trouble for a family he had never met. Garthwood seemed particularly eager to please and flatter her. Such humble solicitude was completely out of character, but Helena received it as graciously as she could.
At least Nigel Garthwood had the sense to retire early to bed.
Helena escorted him to his room herself.
“It was very clever of you, sir, to know just what to bring for everyone. How did you find out about my husband’s brothers and sisters?”
“Henry told me, my dear. He and I are fast friends—on the most intimate terms, I am pleased to say. May I express how very contented I am to see you so happily situated? I shall always have an interest in you, as I trust you would find unexceptionable in a near relation. The chain I gave you is just a token of my abiding affection. Should you ever be in need, you would find me instantly at your side, to do whatever small service I could. You will never forget that, I trust?”
But Helena heard nothing of her cousin’s protestations of family concern. His casual comment struck her like a blow. Harry had once mentioned meeting her cousin, but she had quite forgotten it. Why had he told Garthwood intimate details about the family? What other confidences did they share? Was Garthwood Harry’s accomplice in a plan to harm her husband? Yet how could she possibly warn Richard, when he wouldn’t hear a word against his brother?
“There is something, dear cousin,” Garthwood went on, “that you could give me in return.”
“Of course,” Helena said. She was hardly listening.
“I have nothing personal of dear Edward’s, you know. If there was some small item of his? Some memento?”
Helena turned toward him and smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous, sir! You have his entire estate.”
She stepped back into the drawing room, only to be cornered by Eleanor and Joanna for piquet. Harry and Richard were deep in private conversation at the side of the room. She stole glances at the two brothers, the dark head leaning close to the blond one.
Please, my love, she wished silently, be careful! Your brother is in league with my unpleasant cousin, for heaven knows what nefarious purposes, yet it is your wife you cannot trust, isn’t it? And so, I can’t even tell you.
“Are you listening, Helena?” Joanna asked. “It’s your turn.”
Helena laughed and apologized, then gave her attention to the game.
After supper the men lingered for a long time over the port that Harry had brought down from London. Helena was not surprised when Richard did not come to her room that night.
* * *
Nigel Garthwood left first thing the next morning, before the family was down to breakfast. Helena had slept badly and risen early. She stood alone on the front step and watched her cousin ride away with considerable relief.
In spite of her new suspicions and her old dislike, how could she have turned him from the door on Christmas Day? Richard might not have forgiven her yet, but she felt the lonely satisfaction of having done the right thing.
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