HELENA LEFT HER MEETING with Adam Darnell pensive and unsettled. The idea of leaving the city had been instantly appealing. Though she would prefer to go with Darnell, he’d quickly caught himself before making that offer, which was just as well. Miss Standish would doubtless put a damper on such an expedition, if she agreed to go at all.
Besides, Helena only wanted Adam’s company if she might have him to herself, able to take his arm and stroll the pathways until they reached the center of the maze. Where, hidden away, she might draw close—and kiss him.
A flush of heat rose in her. No, she had better not claim his escort to Hampton Court. But though attraction had sizzled between them as fiercely as ever this afternoon, she’d also felt linked on a different, deeper level. The temptation to a touching of flesh was both intensified and enriched by a touching of minds.
She’d been amazed that Darnell seemed to comprehend her poorly articulated feelings of restlessness. Having discovered her secret excursion, once again he’d tried neither to bully nor intimidate, but to understand—with an empathy she had not experienced since her mother’s flight.
Adam Darnell was almost bringing her to believe that men existed who could be not just desired, but admired and trusted. Admired, trusted—and loved, as she had loved her mother and now loved Aunt Lillian and Charis? If that were true…what would that mean to her plans for the future?
A swell of longing intensified the now familiar desire still spiraling in her belly.
But the only such man she’d met was Darnell, and he was spoken for. Having already several times examined the implications of that fact, she locked her roiling emotions away and forced her mind to focus on the most intriguing information she’d overheard outside White’s.
Deciding to search out the truth of it, she went to Charis’s chamber, where she found her friend still at her dressing table, absently combing her hair.
“What a slug-a-bed you’ve become!” Helena exclaimed with a smile, gesturing to the mantel clock.
“I haven’t your energy, Helena! Though I noticed you weren’t up to greet us when we returned last night.”
Helena squelched a guilty pang at the reason for that omission. “Hurry, now! Your beaux will be calling soon.”
Charis shrugged. “Charlbury and Lord Newsome will stop by, probably. Mr. Dixon, of course, but he comes to see you.”
“And Lord Blanchard, I expect,” Helena said, noting how Charis looked quickly away, her fair skin coloring. So her friend was definitely not indifferent to Blanchard.
“Lord Blanchard comes to see you, too,” Charis said.
“I hear he’s hanging out for a wife. What do you think of him?” Helena asked.
Charis glanced up quickly, looking surprised and more than a little dismayed. “Would you consider his suit?”
“It isn’t me that his eyes rest on when he sits in our parlor…but a lovely blond lady,” Helena pointed out.
Charis dropped her eyes. “I admit I like him far better than any other young man I’ve met. But it doesn’t matter. He is looking for a wife, and Adam has already warned me he must wed a rich one. I shall have but a thousand pounds. A man with Lord Blanchard’s position and connections can do much better than that.”
“He is in the diplomatic service and liable to spend much of his time abroad. Didn’t you tell me you’d prefer to marry and settle at a snug country estate?”
“I do prefer Claygate to London. But…how exciting to travel in foreign lands! Such a vast responsibility to represent the interests of one’s country abroad.”
“Would you accept an offer from Lord Blanchard?”
“’Twould be like a dream come true,” Charis admitted. “But ’tis impossible. Adam told me so weeks ago, when I first hinted I would like him to call. Why do you ask?”
Helena grinned. “No reason—except that I wish to keep abreast of what will make my almost-sister happiest.” Giving Charis a hug, she rose and headed for the door.
“I’m sure he would be willing to offer for you, if you gave him the least encouragement,” Charis said with a cheerfulness that sounded forced.
Helena laughed. “Heavens, no! I’m merely the excuse that allows him to call so often. I expect if he thought for a moment I actually believed he was courting me, he would hire the next available transport and flee back to Vienna!”
While Charis disputed that assessment, Helena blew her friend a kiss and walked out. A rising excitement distracting her from her own unsettled emotions, she skipped to her room and penned a note, then summoned Dickon to deliver it and wait for an answer.
Her note found its recipient and generated an immediate reply. An hour after her talk with Charis, Helena sat at a table at Gunter’s, Nell discreetly behind her. Moments later, Lord Blanchard rushed in.
Scarcely waiting to complete the usual greetings, he blurted, “Excuse me for being abrupt, but you said the matter was grave and involved Miss Darnell. Is she well?”
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Helena replied, not at all sorry to have provoked that telling demonstration of concern. “Yes, she is quite well.”
Blanchard exhaled a gusty sigh. “Thank the Lord. Then with what might I assist you in her regard?”
“Lord Blanchard, I fear I am also about to be rather abrupt. But I need to know if the…story I’ve heard of your deep regard for Miss Darnell has any truth.”
For a moment Blanchard looked away. “I hope,” he said at last, “I have not raised expectations that, sadly, circumstances do not permit me to satisfy. Though I have tried to maintain a proper distance, she…she is so enchanting, it is very difficult to pretend myself indifferent.” He looked up suddenly, his eyes widening. “Pray, assure me I have not caused her any distress!”
Ignoring the question, Helena said, “Am I to understand, then, if a, um, distant relation were to settle a rather large sum upon Miss Darnell, you would like to know?”
He frowned. “But Adam assured me she would have no dowry but such funds as he could wrest from the estate.”
“Yes, but what if it happened that Miss Darnell were to become the recipient of, say, fifteen thousand pounds?”
After staring at her, perplexed, a slow smile formed on his lips. “If she were dowered with a penny over ten thousand pounds, I should be the happiest man in England.”
Helena smiled back. “I recommend you call on her tomorrow. I believe she may have interesting news.” She rose and extended her hand. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Lord Blanchard.”
Blanchard seized her hand and kissed it fervently. “If you mean what I think you mean, Miss Lambarth, you are an angel and I will thank you to my dying breath.”
Helena retrieved her hand. “You may thank me, Lord Blanchard, by remembering, once you possess an angel, to treat her accordingly.”
“I will worship her all my life!” he vowed as Helena curtseyed to his bow and bid him goodbye.
Highly satisfied with that interview, Helena proceeded to Mr. Pendenning’s office. After a short wait, his clerk ushered her in.
“Miss Lambarth!” He took her hands and looked her up and down, smiling broadly. “How wonderful you look! I knew living with Lady Darnell would be good for you.”
“You were right. She and Charis have become as dear to me as my mother.” Better to say nothing of Lady Darnell’s intriguing stepson, Helena thought, suppressing a sigh. “Speaking of Charis, I have finally decided what I wish to do with that unwanted inheritance from my father.”
SHORTLY AFTER NOON the next day, Adam Darnell stared at the lawyer’s note in his hand, too shocked to speak.
“It’s true, then, isn’t it?” Charis asked, her face radiant with excitement. “Adam, you will allow me to accept it, will you not? Lord Blanchard has just arrived, asking to speak with you. Helena told me he would call. Oh, please say it’s true and you will give us your blessing!”
Numbly, Adam looked up. Of course he could not deny his sister’s happiness—or his friend Blanchard’s, for that matter. Not for so small a thing as his pride.
“Send Nathan in,” he said.
Charis sprang up and seized him in a hug so tight his neckcloth almost choked him. “Oh, best, most wonderful, most excellent of brothers!”
The smile on Nathan’s face as he came in was almost as brilliant as the one worn by Adam’s sister. “I expect you know why I’ve come.”
“I knew you admired Charis, but I admit, I never expected a declaration.”
“That was before a certain relative intervened. Cousin Cornwallis, I believe her name is? Or so Miss Lambarth just informed me.”
“Cornwallis,” indeed, Adam thought, recalling the location of Lambarth Castle. “What if there is no endowment?” he asked, trying to check his irrational anger.
Nathan’s grin faded. After regarding Adam for a thoughtful moment, he shrugged. “So be it, then. I’ve come to realize a lifetime of happiness with someone you adore is worth far more than advancement in your career. Adam, have I your permission to ask Charis for her hand?”
Feeling a bit ashamed, he replied, “Of course, Nathan. I shall be proud to call you ‘brother.’ And by the way—the endowment, in the amount of fifteen thousand pounds, has already been deposited to my bank. Call upon me later and we shall set the lawyers to drawing up the settlements.”
Blanchard’s smile returned. “Charis and the dowry? ’Tis almost too wonderful to comprehend! Though I can understand your…disgruntlement, a little. A man has his pride. Suffice it to say, I shall always be very grateful to the eccentric nature of your distant connection, Miss Cornwallis, for choosing to bestow so generous a gift on her only living unmarried female relation.”
“So those were…ah, yes, the rather unusual terms,” Adam replied. “I appreciate your discretion. And I wish you both very happy.”
Blanchard whacked him on the back. “We’ll name the first boy after you, I promise!” he said, and hurried out.
Adam sat down and stared into the fire. A low-burning, proper fire now, not the obscene blaze of heat a certain young lady preferred. A young lady whose generosity he had to grudgingly admire, much as that largesse now chafed and embarrassed him.
At least it appeared the story of the fictitious Cousin Cornwallis would spare him having the whole world know that a slip of a girl had bestowed on the sister he was supposed to provide for the funds—and joy—he could not.
Just then the door was pushed ajar and that same dark-eyed lady beamed at him. “As if you hadn’t already guessed, Charis and Lord Blanchard are now engaged. She sent me to ask you to join them in the parlor.”
“Should I not first go down on my knees and humbly offer my thanks to ‘Cousin Cornwallis’?” he asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Her smile dimmed. “Perhaps, but since from what I understand, that lady lives somewhere near the Irish Sea, ’twould rather delay your arrival in the parlor. I doubt that Charis wants to wait that long to share her joy. Besides, I believe Charis’s joy is all the thanks Miss Cornwallis would require.”
At least she didn’t intend to rub his nose in her benevolence, which was some relief. Still stung, though, he replied, “I rather wish Cousin Cornwallis had mentioned something to me before dispensing her money so liberally, but tell Charis I shall be down directly.”
Miss Lambarth stilled, her eyes scanning his face. “Why would you wish that?”
“Because as head of this family, ’tis my responsibility to protect my sister and assure her future!” he retorted savagely, furious that she did not understand what any girl with the least degree of breeding would have known. Of course, it would never have crossed the mind of a gently bred girl to intervene without consulting him in the first place—nor would such a girl possess resources in her own name she could draw upon. “You can’t expect me to be truly grateful to be shown how poor a job I was doing.”
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you or flout your authority. Isn’t it enough that Charis shall be able to marry where her heart is, without thought of fortune?”
“Of course I am gratified that she will be happy. If you will excuse me, ma’am, I will go tell her so.” He rose from his chair, his illogical fury, resentment and chagrin untouched by her explanation.
“I am sorry you are angry. But I am not sorry about Charis’s gift.” As she stood aside to let him pass, she added fiercely, “If I were meek and conventional and biddable, I’d be dead.”
Even this reference to the indignities she’d suffered caused him to hesitate but momentarily. For once, fury burned hotter than attraction. Brushing past without any desire to touch her—unless it be to wring her neck—Adam stormed down to the parlor.
The raptures of his sister and her new fiancé, so occupied in gazing and smiling at each other it soured his stomach, led Adam to take his leave as soon as possible.
At first he thought to go to his club. But realizing that the glad tidings would soon be out and not in a humor to deal with speculation over his sister’s great good fortune, Adam decided instead to visit Miss Standish.
She would appreciate hearing about the betrothal before some gossip mentioned it—and would never suspect the true origin of his sister’s bequest, assuming as she would that Adam had charge of any matter concerning his family.
To his smarting pride, that conventional turn of mind suddenly seemed very appealing.
ADAM GREETED PRISCILLA in her parlor with more enthusiasm than he had for some time. He was also gratified when she herself suggested a stroll in the garden, where she allowed him several thorough kisses.
“So, we are to have some spontaneity after all?” he teased, tracing a finger on her reddened lips.
“Perhaps,” she replied. “My friend Lady Cordelia says that sometimes a lady must relax her own standards when ’tis necessary to…to fight fire with fire.”
Adam didn’t wish to ask to what she might be referring. “You can incite quite a blaze all by yourself,” he responded, dropping another kiss on her forehead.
“You seemed rather disturbed when you arrived, despite the wonderful news about Miss Darnell,” Priscilla said, taking his arm as they strolled down the garden path. “Is something distressing you, Adam? Can I help?”
How nice to have a lady inquire what he wanted, instead of taking matters into her own hands, Adam thought, still disgruntled. However, his fiancée did not like Miss Lambarth, and though at the moment he was irritated with her, he didn’t think it wise to admit that to Priscilla.
“A small matter,” he said. As if fifteen thousand pounds were small! “If I seemed…distracted, I apologize.”
“You never need do that! I am concerned by anything that concerns you. ’Tis my role now to ease your burdens—as much as a mere female can, of course.”
He could not help but appreciate that selfless avowal. “I hope you shall let me carry your burdens, too.”
“I shall endeavor not to add to yours! I imagine overseeing Miss Lambarth is trying enough. Such a…a headstrong girl. Excuse me, but I must feel that to be dangerous trait, given her sad lack of proper upbringing.”
If she only knew. “It can be vexing,” he admitted. “I’m only a man, hardly an expert on managing females, yet with Lady Darnell’s nerves so delicate, I hesitate to consult her even when I sometimes feel at a loss.”
It was a great relief, he found, to express some of his frustration. Which he’d been unable to voice to his stepmother without spilling details that would only upset her, nor to Charis, who was far too much Miss Lambarth’s champion ever to admit any fault in her.
“As if you did not have enough responsibilities without having to supervise so unruly a girl! Francis tells me she recently bought a most unsuitable riding hack—a horse Randall sold as being completely unreliable.”
“Yes, she managed to coax Bennett Dixon, whose judgment I would have thought more sound, into bidding on the horse for her. Not learning of the deal until it was already complete, and as I must admit she is a good enough rider to control the beast, I did not countermand it.”
“She should have consulted you, not Mr. Dixon!”
That glowing affirmation was balm to his injured sensibilities. At least his fiancée respected his position as head of the family and trusted his ability to manage its affairs. “’Tis done now, so I will say no more.”
“I hope that is the last of her wild starts!”
For a moment he saw Helena again in his mind’s eye, galloping away on the fractious black. Shaking his head, he sighed. “Even that horse wasn’t as bad as—”
Catching himself with a start, he closed his lips. As satisfying as it had been to air his displeasure, this story would be better kept to himself.
“There was worse?”
“Nothing, really. I should not have mentioned it.”
She patted his arm. “Dear Adam! I know you don’t wish to distress Lady Darnell with your worries, but I am made of much sterner stuff. I would be honored to receive your confidences and provide you with what I flatter myself to be a sensible female’s perspective.”
Now he really was in the basket. Searching rather desperately for an excuse Priscilla might accept, he said, “’Tis a matter of great delicacy I’d rather not mention.”
His luck was out. Looking wounded, Priscilla removed her hand from his. “I see. I had thought that as I am soon to be your wife, you would feel you could trust me, but I see I was mistaken. Excuse me for my effrontery.”
“It’s not that I don’t—” he began.
“Please, Adam, you needn’t explain. If you do not wish to consult me, that is your choice entirely.” She turned away from him, the picture of injured dignity.
Grinding his teeth at his stupidity in stumbling into this dilemma, Adam pondered what to do next. After Priscilla’s tender declaration of concern, he was loath to hurt her feelings, as he obviously had just now. She was to be his wife, after all. And with her punctilious standards of behavior, surely she wouldn’t wish any word of Miss Lambarth’s shocking adventure to escape, tarring as it must the family of which Priscilla would soon be a part.
Perhaps he could get by relating just a bit of the story. “If you are sure you don’t mind my imposing. I know I can count on your discretion in not repeating a syllable, even to your mother.”
Looking mollified, Miss Standish glanced back at him. “Nothing I can do for you would ever be an imposition.”
He took a deep breath. “’Tis just that I discovered Miss Lambarth has…slipped out at night to explore the city.”
Priscilla gasped and her eyes widened. “Slipped out? Without a proper chaperone, you mean? But how…how hoydenish to go about with—what, only a footman? What if someone had recognized her—or the Darnell livery?”
“She didn’t take a livried servant. And I don’t think she’d be recognized.”
“As distinctively as she dresses, and her so tall? I would not be so confident. Oh, how awful! No wonder you were so upset. Only think of poor Lady Darnell’s distress if someone saw the girl and reported back to her!”
“I’m certain there’s little likelihood of that.”
“How can you be certain? Did she have the foresight to go out cloaked and masked?”
“Ah, no. But she was…disguised.”
Miss Standish stared at him. “Disguised? As…as a servant? Oh, Adam, that’s even worse!”
“No, no, she was disguised as a lad. I’d be amazed if anyone managed to recognize her.”
Priscilla’s eyes widened ever more. “She went out into the city…dressed in breeches?”
Wishing now he had followed his first instinct and gone to his club, Adam nodded. “You understand why I should not wish a word of this breathed to anyone.”
“Of course not! ’Tis atrocious behavior, even for one as unprinci—unschooled as Miss Lambarth. My papa would lock me in my room on bread and water for such a stunt!”
Adam recalled Helena’s description of being forced into the blackness of the priest hole. “I rather think being restrained for too much of her life is what led her to do this in the first place,” he replied grimly.
“But you can’t mean to let her go unpunished after such a flagrant breach of decorum.”
“I can hardly punish her severely without telling Lady Darnell the reason. Something, I’m sure you’ll agree, I wish to avoid.”
“Poor lady! She’d have an attack of the vapors at least! But you must do something to show the girl that such behavior cannot be tolerated, or sooner or later, she will drag the family into a scandal that cannot be hidden.”
“Now, Priscilla, I’ve given her enough of a scold that I think she is suitably chastened.”
“And I think you are much too indulgent with her, Adam. You must not let her take advantage of your kindness and good nature—as she did the night of Mrs. Cowper’s ball, dragging you away on some ridiculous pretext.”
“’Twas no pretext. We already discussed this, my dear. I thought you understood.”
“I understood how humiliating it was to be left without an escort for half the evening while my fiancé went off with another woman—and her dressed like…like some foreign hussy!” Priscilla cried.
Though he’d never flinched on the battlefield, Adam now felt the strongest desire to cut and run. How had the discussion gotten so out of hand?
Wanting urgently to end it, he said, “Priscilla, calm yourself. Such…vehemence isn’t like you.”
Miss Standish exhaled a shuddering breath. After a moment of uneasy silence, she said, “Pray excuse me for allowing my…my feelings to run away with me. Shall we go in now? Mama will be wondering what has become of us.”
“By all means, my dear,” Adam said, wondering the same thing himself.
And he had thought the artillery barrage at Waterloo daunting. Silently wishing a pox on all women—and men foolhardy enough to confide in them—Adam led his fiancée out of the garden.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, after checking his cravat one more time, Adam descended to the breakfast parlor with a small package in his hands. After extracting himself from the inquisition Miss Standish’s mother had given him about his sister’s unexpected bequest, the less probing questions and more sincere congratulations offered him when he’d finally reached his club had helped soothe his disgruntlement over Miss Lambarth’s conduct. The masculine camaraderie and several good bottles of claret, however, had not settled his unease over discovering that Priscilla held Miss Lambarth in much greater aversion than he’d thought.
Their nasty quarrel had also shocked him into realizing that, while claiming to bow to his authority, Priscilla was probably trying to manipulate him by her rationed kisses, her pouts—and her anger when he did not accept her advice. There was something to be said for Miss Lambarth’s directness and lack of feminine wiles.
He’d also had time to ponder why he’d been so unreasonably incensed by Helena’s gift. Her usurping of his authority and then acting without consulting him would have irritated under any circumstances, but should not have wounded him as they had.
Part of his anger, he’d decided, had been the chagrin of discovering that an outsider had realized before he did that Charis’s happiness depended on wedding Blanchard. He should have been the one to make that union happen.
More muddled were his wildly mixed feelings about having hurtled into the breach to offer for Priscilla. He’d needed to repair the family fortunes, of course, but in large part his haste had been motivated by the desire to stabilize their finances and to provide a dowry for Charis. So that she would not have to consider wealth when choosing her life’s partner.
Miss Lambarth’s bequest had rendered that sacrifice unnecessary. Would he have taken a different a path, had he been free to choose? For though it shamed him to admit it, another part of his anger had been a keen envy of the joy so evident on the faces of Blanchard and his sister—a joy he’d not felt at any time during his own engagement.
Finally, he’d allowed injured pride and the vanity fanned by Priscilla’s soothing words to lead him into betraying Miss Lambarth’s trust. For that indiscretion, he was even more ashamed. And though the small gift he’d found for her was hardly recompense for so grievous an error, it helped to assuage his guilty conscience a little.
The excited chatter emanating from the breakfast parlor indicated that his sister and stepmother must be discussing wedding plans. Not hearing Miss Lambarth’s huskier tones and anxious to get the apology over with, he was relieved as he entered to spy her by the sideboard.
Elegant this time in a riding habit of sapphire velvet, she was sipping coffee and smiling at the ladies. After greeting everyone, he quickly approached her.
She started to move away as he walked up. He stayed her with a touch to her elbow—a touch that seared as if his fingertips had skimmed bare flesh instead of cloth.
Trying not to let that contact distract him, he said in a low voice, “Pray let me apologize for my hasty words yesterday! ’Twas stupid pride on my part. Your gift was discreetly done and has guaranteed the happiness of my beloved sister. Thank you again.”
To his surprise, she squeezed the hand that had touched her elbow, sending another shimmer of sensation through him. “Let me apologize in return. Though it seems obvious now, it never occurred to me to consult you.” She smiled slightly. “My previous experience has not led me to confer with anyone before taking action…nor instilled in me the belief that the head of the household’s first thought is the happiness of those in his charge. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
His heart lightening, he was about to recommend they put the matter behind them when Lady Darnell looked over. “Adam, what have you in your hand? An engagement gift?”
“No, ’tis a trifle for Miss Lambarth. After one of our previous discussions, I thought she might enjoy it.”
Lady Darnell clapped her hands. “Oh, famous! Open it at once, Helena!”
Adam stood watching as, after a surprised glance at him, she removed the tissue and stared down at items.
“’Tis a set of drawing chalks,” he explained.
“Conte and charcoal. How perfect!” Charis exclaimed. “Now she shall truly be able to display her talent.”
Wonder in her eyes, Helena looked up at Adam. “I hardly know what to say.”
“‘Thank you’ should suffice,” Charis said with a giggle. “Have you never had a present before?”
Miss Lambarth’s gaze wandered to the window and, to Adam’s dismay, tears shimmered in her dark lashes. “Just before she…left, Mama gave me a brightly colored parrot. Father turned it loose in the garden. A hawk got it.”
While Charis and Lady Darnell gasped, she turned to offer Adam the smile that transformed her face from arresting to breathtaking. “‘Thank you’ is paltry, but it shall have to do until I can think of something better.”
“Your enjoyment—and the enjoyment your sketches will give us all—is thanks enough,” Adam replied, the glow of her gratitude warming him right to his toes.
Recovering her composure, his sister said, “Helena, will you accompany Bellemere and me to shop for fabric this morning? If my wedding clothes are to be ready before Nathan must return to Vienna, we have to begin at once!”
“Give me a few moments to change into something more suitable.” Wrapping the chalks back in their paper, she raised shining eyes to Adam. “Thank you again, Darnell.”
Absurdly pleased to have made her happy, he bowed as she walked out. “Your servant, Miss Lambarth.”
After the other ladies left, Adam proceeded to the library. Settling behind the desk, he smiled at the sight of Miss Lambarth’s book by the sofa. How glad he was to have made peace between them.
He supposed he should call on Priscilla to try to smooth over their disagreement. But, deciding to put off what would probably be an uncomfortable meeting, he pulled out his account ledgers. He was reading through a report from his steward when a feminine scream split the air.
Charis’s scream.
Dropping the paper and knocking his chair out of the way, he bolted up the stairs.