When the ladies withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to their port she forced herself to respond appropriately to the plans both older ladies were making for the wedding.
‘Dear Portia as Matron of Honour, of course,’ Lady Wyatt was saying as the gentlemen rejoined them.
To Helena’s enormous relief Daniel did not linger, taking his leave just after ten, saying with a charmingly rueful smile that he must tear himself away and, besides, he knew Helena would want to be alone with her family.
No one was surprised when Helena retired to her room soon after. When at last the door was shut on her aunt’s kisses and congratulations and her mother’s loving good wishes, she leaned against the panels and closed her eyes for a long moment. When Lucy came and tapped she sent her away, calling out that she had already undressed and gone to bed and did not wish to be disturbed.
When she felt secure from interruption, Helena sat on the edge of the bed and worked through the plan that had been forming in her mind all the way through the evening.
She would go to Adam, tell him what had happened and ask him to come with her to her uncle. The two of them would explain to the Commodore what had happened aboard the Moonspinner, assure him that there was no reason why Helena had to marry, and that they had agreed that they did not wish to marry each other. Once they had convinced him, as they had her mother, then Helena would tell him of Daniel’s blackmail.
With the full story before him she had no doubt her uncle would prevent the marriage; her only fear was that he would break Daniel professionally and in doing so intensify the hatred between Adam and the naval officer. Her uncle might even call him out, despite the rules about serving officers duelling.
After fumbling with the fastenings, Helena scrambled out of the silk gown and into a dark wool walking dress. Fortunately she had packed her heavy winter cloak with its concealing hood: Helena stood with it over her arm and thought. Would it be safer to walk to Adam’s house or to find a cab? It was not a great distance, but at that time of night it would be prudent to drive. She checked her reticule had sufficient coin and, on a sudden thought, plucked her masquerade mask from the dressing table where it dangled by its silken ribbons from the glass.
Helena could hear the footmen moving about closing the shutters in the salon and dining room, but no one had yet secured the bolts on the front door. Her heart in her mouth, she gained the street without being seen and, drawing the cloak closely round her, walked swiftly to the corner just as a cab was passing.
If the cabby was surprised to be taking a young lady of the Quality to the house of a well-known bachelor, he made no comment. ‘Do you want me to wait, miss?’ he enquired, opening the cab door for her.
Helena glanced up at the candlelit windows of the first floor with relief: it seemed Adam was at home. ‘No, there is no need to wait. Thank you.’
She had been congratulating herself on how smoothly this escapade was proceeding until the moment Adam’s butler opened the front door. The vision of a cloaked, masked young woman standing on his master’s doorstep at half past midnight appeared, momentarily, to take him aback, but he soon recovered his sang-froid.
‘If you would care to take a seat in the Small Salon, madam, I will ascertain whether his lordship is At Home. What name should I say?’
Helena hesitated. She could scarcely give the servants her real name. ‘Say…say, an acquaintance from the Isles of Scilly.’ The butler bowed and withdrew, leaving Helena to warm her chilly hands at the small fire flickering in the grate.
Adam appeared within minutes, closing the door firmly behind him and crossing the room to her side, concern etched on every line of his face. ‘Helena? What on earth brings you here at this hour? Are you mad? If anyone should see you, your reputation would be in tatters!’
Helena pushed back the heavy hood and tried to untie the strings of her mask, but the knots had tightened and she fumbled nervously.
‘Let me,’ Adam said gently, and seconds later his fingers gently teased out the ribbons and freed the mask. He stood very close, looking down into the troubled eyes turned up to his in supplication. Without hesitation he bent and kissed her, full and long on the lips, drawing her chilled body close against the warmth of his.
Instantly she responded with the innocent ardour he had come to know on the Moonspinner, and once again, as he caressed the tumble of dark curls spilling over his hands, he wondered what it was about him that made her so adamant in her rejection of him.
The long kiss ended as she pushed him away with a little shake of her head. ‘No, Adam, that was not why I came here.’ It was so hard to leave the arms she had dreamed about, had longed to be held by, but she knew she had to be strong or Adam would surely guess the depth of her true feelings.
‘Is it not?’ he asked ruefully, stroking the side of her cheek with a long, warm finger.
Helena shivered, wanting to coil her arms around his neck, pull his mouth down to hers again. Instead she stepped back, putting a safer distance between them. ‘No, it is not,’ she said sharply, more sharply than she had intended.
Adam pushed her gently towards a chair by the fire-side. ‘Here, sit down, you are chilled.’ He poured a glass of sherry from the decanter on the sideboard and watched as she sipped it and a little colour came back into her cheek. ‘I take it no one else knows you are here?’
Helena shook her head mutely, unable to look at him. All of a sudden this was an ordeal, not the sanctuary she had expected. His nearness and the depth of her longing for him was overturning the sensible little plan she had devised. With an effort she forced herself to begin.
‘It is Daniel Brookes…’
‘Ah, yes. Your new beau.’ Adam sounded chilly. ‘From our encounter this morning I see you did not pay any heed to my warnings about that…gentleman.’
‘Of course I paid attention to what you said!’ Helena turned in her chair to look at Adam. ‘But I thought it would be safer to keep an eye on him. And I could hardly raise his suspicions by snubbing him: my family has encouraged him so.’
‘Well, no doubt his reputation has not preceded him to London, whereas mine most certainly has,’ he remarked bitterly.
Helena swallowed a retort about rakes and pressed on. ‘My uncle the Commodore has used his influence at the Admiralty on Lieutenant Brookes’s behalf—that is why he is still in town.’
Adam bowed ironically. ‘I congratulate you. No doubt I shall soon see an announcement in The Times.’
‘He has already made a declaration,’ Helena almost wailed, pleating the heavy folds of her cloak between her fingers.
‘So now I begin to understand why you are here.’ Adam’s face as he stepped into the circle of firelight was saturnine. He towered over her, darkly elegant in full evening dress, the flames flickering, harshening the planes of his face. ‘No doubt you wish me to promise to keep silence about our little voyage. I am disappointed.’ Helena’s heart leapt at what he might be about to say, then fell as he went on, ‘I should have thought you would have trusted my word as a gentleman to say nothing of that. I would do nothing to prevent your impending nuptials.’
Helena jumped to her feet, the cloak pooling around her feet. ‘You cannot imagine for one moment that I want to marry him! He is odious!’
‘So you have rejected him, then?’ Was it her imagination or did he look relieved? It was so difficult to tell in the candlelight.
‘No! I have accepted him.’
Adam’s eyebrows rose. ‘Helena, I confess I am deeply puzzled.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb as though grappling with a conundrum. ‘You turn down my offer of marriage, despite never having, to my knowledge, described me as odious. And yet you agree to marry Daniel Brookes, even though his suit is clearly abhorrent to you.’
Helena slumped back into the chair, wondering where to begin. ‘He knows I was on the yacht. He found a picture—a portrait, I had drawn of you.’
‘That is hardly incriminating evidence. It is w
ell-known that I have visited your aunt’s house. I am sure you draw many acquaintances.’
Helena cast down her eyes, feeling the tide of hot colour flood up her neck. ‘Er…not like that.’
To her fury, Adam seemed amused rather than alarmed. ‘I am flattered. Do tell me—was I wearing anything in your portrait?’
‘Of course you were! As if I would! And it is not as though I had ever…I mean, we had not…’ Conscious she was tying herself in betraying knots she subsided, still flushed.
‘Tell him to publish and be damned, as the Duke of Wellington said. Break off the engagement.’
‘But if he shows that picture about town?’
‘Who is to say you drew it? You did not sign it, did you?’
‘Yes,’ Helena admitted dismally. ‘I always do. My drawing master taught me to.’
‘Hell and damnation! Here’s a coil.’ Adam took three long strides across the room, then turned to face her. ‘Like it or not, you must marry me. It is the lesser of two evils.’
It was hardly a flattering declaration, but for several seconds Helena felt herself weakening. She could have him; did it matter that he did not love her? Might he not grow to love her as many couples did? After all, a few months together…affection must surely follow.
‘It would not be so bad,’ he said placatingly, fatally. ‘I would make few demands of you, once an heir was born. You could continue to live your life as you pleased, as I would live mine. You could stay down in Sussex, you do not have to come up to town.’
No, Helena thought bitterly, that might interfere with his pleasures. She felt a scalding humiliation that she had come so close to accepting his declaration. She should have learned by now that all men seemed to want was physical pleasure and material gain whether it was a place with the Admiralty or an heir to a title. Affection, love—these words were alien to them!
Sarcastically she retorted, ‘I am overwhelmed by the warmth of your offer, sir, but that was not why I came here tonight. I have a solution that will not require such self-sacrifice from you.’
If Adam was surprised by the bitterness of her words he did not show it. The clock on the mantle chimed one and he cursed under his breath. ‘Hell’s teeth! I have a meeting in half an hour. This cannot wait, either—we must talk in the carriage.’
Helena stood, tying her cloak cords. ‘Thank you, sir, but I will make my own way home back to Brook Street,’ she said shortly.
‘Now, do not be silly, Helena.’ Adam took her elbow and steered her towards the door. ‘I cannot allow you to caper about London unaccompanied; you have risked too much already coming here at this time of night.’
‘Then drop me at my door!’ Helena found herself being propelled out of the front door and up the steps into his waiting carriage.
‘We have too much to talk about. You cannot take risks with the likes of Daniel Brookes.’ Adam stuck his head out of the carriage window. ‘Vauxhall Gardens.’
‘I cannot go with you to Vauxhall Gardens,’ Helena protested. ‘Why, I would be ruined indeed if I was seen with you there.’
‘You will wait in the carriage, masked and with my driver for protection. There is no reason why you should be seen. My business should take no more than half an hour.’
Helena subsided mutinously, glaring at him in the dark carriage. It was impossible to see his face except in brief flashes as they passed the torchères placed outside houses to light the footway.
‘Now, Helena. You will not marry me, you declare you will jilt Brookes—so how do you intend to escape from this mess?’
‘If you come with me to see my uncle and explain that nothing happened on the yacht…’
Adam snorted. ‘If being in my bed counts as nothing, Helena…’
‘Oh, nothing that means we must marry! Do not interrupt, Adam. If we explain, then Daniel’s threats will be hollow. My uncle will be angry, but he will see that the Lieutenant is nothing but a blackmailer bent on furthering his own career through an alliance with my family.’
‘And the drawing?’
‘Uncle will pretend to be going along with him and ask to see the drawing. Then, once it is in his hands, he will tear it up, or throw it on the fire.’
‘You have worked it all out well, my dear,’ Adam drawled. ‘You must forgive me for asking how you intend to prevent the Commodore marching the two of us to the altar at gunpoint.’
‘I will talk him round. He will not insist when I explain I do not wish to marry you.’
‘You have great faith in your powers of persuasion, Helena.’ The sound of the carriage wheels changed as they crossed the bridge and Helena realised they must be nearly at the pleasure grounds. ‘How do you intend to persuade your uncle not to call Brookes out himself?’
‘Naval officers are not permitted to duel,’ Helena said. ‘He could not, could he?’ Her voice wavered.
‘He will have no need, for I can assure you I will have already called Brookes out myself,’ Adam replied grimly.
‘Adam, you cannot risk your life for me!’ Helena clutched his arm in horror.
‘You flatter yourself, my dear,’ he responded shortly. ‘Do you expect me to sit by while that scoundrel compromises my honour by implicating me in his blackmail plots?’
‘But he could kill you,’ Helena gasped as the carriage slowed and wheeled to a halt in front of wide ornamental gates surrounded by brightly coloured lamps.
‘Not as long as we use pistols,’ Adam replied with some amusement in his voice. ‘He never could hit a barn door. But he is an excellent swordsman, so let us hope he does not chose the rapier.’ The door swung open and she saw his face clearly.
He was, Helena realised, greatly stimulated by the thought of a fight with the Lieutenant, by having an excuse at last to confront a man he loathed so deeply.
‘Now, stay there,’ he commanded, jumping down. ‘I will not be long.’
Helena flung herself back against the cushions with a snort of fury. Men! If they were not pursuing some female, they were looking for an excuse to fight each other! Adam was obviously delighted to have an excuse to fight Daniel, never mind how she felt about it!
She leaned out to watch his back vanish into the throng around the gates. She had been to Vauxhall before in a large family party and had strolled among the groves and eaten in the pavilions while listening to the band. But great care had been taken to ensure that the young ladies did not come into contact with the parties of young bucks, the ladies of pleasure and the numerous cits out to mingle with the Quality.
The coachman hastily came to put up the window. ‘Now, ma’am, don’t you be leaning out, we don’t want one of those young blades ogling you! His lordship left strict instructions you was to stay inside.’ Without waiting for any response he fastened the leather strap that held up the glass and shut the door, but not before Helena saw a familiar figure, fully illuminated by a lamp by the entrance gate.
It was the Frenchman from the Godolphin Arms! She would recognise him anywhere, and here he was in the middle of London as bold as brass. He had to be there to meet Adam—anything else would be an unbelievable coincidence. All her worries, all her unease about what Adam was about on the Scilly Isles, resurfaced with a vengeance. She had trusted him then, and she still did, but with England at war he was flirting with danger indeed.
Without thinking why she was doing it, Helena drew up the hood of her cloak and gingerly opened the carriage door. Another carriage drew up, disgorging a large and very riotous party of young men and women. Adam’s coachman swore, grabbing at his reins as the horses shied and whinnied at the sudden eruption of colour and sound. Taking full advantage of the distraction, Helena slipped out of the door and melted into the shadows beside the gate.
As the party entered the pleasure grounds, she detached herself from the shade and followed them through. For a few seconds she cast round, despairing of finding Adam in the throng, then she saw the Frenchman silhouetted against a brightly lit kiosk.
; He seemed to be consulting a note in his hand, for he glanced down, then around, an odd figure in his sombre clothing among the flock of brightly clad, chattering partygoers. After a minute he appeared to have found his bearings for he walked off, weaving past a group of young men who were engaged in noisy dalliance with three young women wearing paint and spangled gowns.
Helena slipped after him, trying not to be distracted by her first close sight of the notorious ‘barques of frailty’ who haunted the pleasure grounds and the young men who were there, determined to yield to every temptation on offer.
Vauxhall Gardens were a maze of paths winding amidst the shrubberies, some ending at a little temple or grotto, others connecting together to lead back to the dance floors or dining kiosks. The Frenchman, with the occasional glance at the note in his hand, moved swiftly on, leading her deeper into the centre away from the gates and away from the main hustle and bustle.
Helena found herself almost running to keep the man’s figure within sight. She gathered up her skirt and kept to the side of the path, starting nervously at rustlings in the bushes, the odd snatch of laughter.
Just when she thought she would run out of breath the man stopped and turned sharply left through a gap in the shrubs. Helena tiptoed after him and peeped round the corner to see a clearing with a miniature temple at the end.
Adam was waiting inside, his face lit by the lanterns which hung from the dome within. He looked up sharply at the sound of the Frenchman’s footsteps on the gravel and greeted him in French.
The two men shook hands and drew back into the temple. Helena slipped into the clearing and inched her way around the edge until she was as close as she dared, but it was as frustrating as her attempt to overhear at the inn. Helena crept into the cover of a clipped box hedge. It was as close as she dared get so she crouched there, wrinkling her nose at the unpleasant odour of cats the box was giving off.
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