Helena arrived back at Julius’s London house in time to dress for dinner. Still bathing in the glow of reconciling with Tom, she had hoped to gain her room without interruption, but as she passed the main salon on the first floor, Eve came out.
“Ah, Helena, I thought I heard you come in.” She appeared harassed, her usually smiling mouth in a thin line, and her eyes wary. “Could you spare a moment?”
Wondering what had happened, Helena followed Eve in. The gracious drawing room contained delicate French furniture upholstered in forget-me-not blue, and the wide windows let in any daylight available. In the midafternoon, the sun was beginning its decline to the horizon, but there was still plenty of light, enough for the wax candles in the sconces to remain unlit.
Unfortunately, the room also contained her mother and Julius, arms folded, grim-faced.
“I said an hour,” he said.
“You sound like my father.”
“He is upstairs. He’ll be joining us shortly,” her mother said.
Helena made her curtsey to her mother, who regarded her daughter with a jaundiced eye.
“Sir George is in Derbyshire, awaiting the birth of his firstborn. That child should have been yours.”
The notion repelled her even more now. “I’m happy for him, Mother. I’m also delighted that I had the good sense to reject him. We would never have suited.” She changed the subject briskly. “I am surprised to see you here, ma’am. Is this not a distinctly unfashionable time of year to come to town?”
“Nevertheless, I know my duty,” her mother said. She folded her hands in the lap of her dark red afternoon gown. “I have come to take you home. I have had enough shilly-shallying, my girl. You have had all the time in the world to sort out your affairs, and you have failed to do so. Since you will have it, I have come to save you from yourself.”
Helena glanced at Julius, who motioned to a chair by the fire. Feeling trapped, she sat. Matters were coming to a head much faster than she had imagined. On the way home, she’d made her plan. She would tell Julius and Eve tomorrow morning and then let them prove anything they wanted, but she agreed with Tom. They would wait only as long as needful to inform their families of their intentions.
Sooner than that, if tonight was any indication. She lifted her chin defiantly. She would lie no more.
“The rumors have spread to Derbyshire,” Julius said gloomily. He strolled to the window, hands in the capacious pockets of his coat. “I can do no more. If you wish to continue with your plan to move to your own establishment, I will support you, but I cannot think it wise.”
“What rumors?” she demanded. “Oh, I know why, but I want to know precisely what they are saying.”
Julius turned around, the light casting him into shadow, but she could still see that his mouth was set in a grim line. “That you were trysting with Lord Alconbury in that inn last week. I have, at your request, neither confirmed nor denied the stories, but they have gone too far now for me to nip them in the bud.”
Her father stood in the doorway. He did not usually intervene in his wife’s management of the household and their children, but this time, here he was. “If you come home with us, I swear I will do everything in my power to protect you from malicious gossip. I will not have you subjected to that viciousness.”
“You are always welcome to stay with us, Helena,” Julius said softly from the other side of the room. “But things must necessarily change.”
“By which you mean I may no longer expect to attract a husband I may be comfortable with,” she said primly and then broke into a smile. She was bursting to tell them, but even more she wanted her mother to condemn herself even more.
“Are you glad?” The duchess bridled, positively drew herself up and trembled with rage. “Can you be happy that you are about to dwindle into overlooked and never-thanked spinsterhood? I daresay your father could find someone to marry you. After all, your portion is generous. But you can expect no more favors, and you will not have the pick of the crop, as you have before. We must work to restore your reputation, but it will not be easy, and by the time we have achieved it, you will be well past marriageable age. Is that clear enough for you, Helena?”
Julius groaned. “Why did you not allow me to cover this story? I have done it before.”
Ah, yes, with Connie, their cousin Alex’s wife. Connie was in direr straits than Helena had ever found herself, and not through any fault of her own. Julius had restored her reputation, simply by denying the events had ever taken place. He could not do that with Helena, not now. His silence had given tacit acceptance to the rumors flying around town, and obviously, the country, too. But they did not matter because she had won.
Julius deserved an answer. “Julius you’ve been unfailingly kind and patient with me. Thank you.”
Her brother inclined his head, but he stayed silent, giving her the floor.
“But you do not have to worry about me any longer.” She encompassed her mother in her glance and then fixed her attention on her father. “I am already married. I have been so for the last five years.”
* * * *
Tom waited until the following day to break the news to his father. While he grieved to bring any more distress to him, this task would not wait. Nor should it. He intended to busy himself finding a house for them for a few weeks, until they could decide what they wanted to do next. He had to admit that would depend on what their families wanted, because, although he would prefer to whisk his wife away to a private paradise of their own, that would have to wait.
Accordingly, he sought an interview with him before his father left the house the following morning. Breakfast was served at noon in London, but they were out and about before that. Tom had lodged a copy of the marriage certificate with the family’s London lawyer, apologizing for the late delivery. He would carry a picture of the way the clerk had reacted to the end of his days. The man had glanced at it, picked up his spectacles from the debris on his desk to take a closer look, and then glanced at Tom and back at the paper before he’d said, “Yes, my lord,” in such a wooden tone that Tom knew he was deeply affected.
The murmurs began even before he had cleared the office. The news would not be circulated from there, but by tomorrow London would know.
His father tended to remain in the house before breakfast, attending to necessary business and writing letters, so Tom was fairly confident of finding him the small office on the first floor, behind the main rooms. Sure enough when he tapped on the door, the irritable “Come!” told him his father was at home and not happy with whatever he was dealing with.
He would be even unhappier when Tom told him his news. However, if he heard the tidings from anyone else, the duke would probably have the kind of apoplexy that would affect his health. Tom loved him too much to risk that occurrence.
His father’s usually stern expression softened when Tom entered the room. He gestured to a chair. “Good morning, Alconbury. You have saved me from the tedious task of checking the list of candidates for the position of second footman.” He sighed. “I should leave such matters to Richardson, but I cannot say that I altogether trust him.”
“You trust nobody, Papa.” Tom drew up a chair and sat, holding the papers he’d brought with him.
“I have good reason. Kirkburton constantly sends spies to me.”
“And you do not send them to him? Or rather, to his son.”
His father carefully placed his pen in the stand and rolled his shoulders, leaning back in his well-worn but supremely comfortable chair. He refused to allow the dowager to replace it, claiming it was the best chair he’d ever sat in, and he would never find another. “I see you came armed. Is this new information, or something I’ve forgotten to discuss with you?”
Tom shook his head. He took his last look at his father, because in a moment their whole relationship would change. He greatly respected his parent for refusing to deny his wife and the cuckoo in his nest, but now he loved him more. “I’m sorry I have to bring this matter to your attention, sir.”
His father regarded the pile of unopened correspondence next to him with a grimace. “One more will not make a great difference. Out with it, boy!”
Tom could not resist a grin, despite the tension turning his insides into a small, painful knot. The epithet told him that his father was in an averagely good mood. “Do you remember when, five years ago, you told me the story of my birth?”
All notions of good temper disappeared. The duke took on the mien of an icicle. “Yes.”
“Because of that information, I terminated a relationship with someone I cared for very much.”
A little of the icicle thawed. The duke raised a brow. “I hope you were not shamed into it. You have nothing to be ashamed of, my son.”
Now that epithet he had used deliberately. “I know that. But thank you.” Now he was here, he did not know how to begin. He’d rehearsed a speech, but it left him now. His mind went blank to all but one fact. “Five years ago I married Helena Vernon.”
His father had rested his hands on his desk. Both hands clenched into tight fists.
“When you told me of my parentage, I immediately cut the relationship.” The remembrance of what giving up all his hopes had done returned to him with a sharp pang.
“Why would you marry her without asking me?”
The duke spoke mildly, but Tom was not deceived.
“Papa, we fell in love before we realized who we were. I saw her and wanted her. She felt the same. Once I learned your secret, I assumed I had mistaken love of a brother for his sister. Obviously applying for an annulment was out of the question. I fell deeply in love with her. Then her mother tried to compel her to marry a man of her choosing, and she was deeply distressed. I claimed her before anyone else could.”
“Like picking a kitten from a litter?” The duke’s dry words pierced Tom to the heart.
“Like making sure of the woman who already had my heart.”
“But you cut off the connection? Then there is no harm done, is there?” his father said. “Is that why you refused to accept any of the young ladies your grandmother pushed your way?”
Tom nodded. “I tried, but I could not forget her. I kept away from her, but I knew I had hurt her greatly. I did not tell her why I had cut the connection. I only told her that our marriage was a sham. I could not bring that to her.” He looked away. Even recalling that time brought back the gnawing agony that had sliced into him for the last five years. “Why would I cause another person the same pain that I felt? I let her believe I’d had second thoughts, thinking the reputation our family has with hers would persuade her of my perfidy. It did not, but I still kept away.”
This time his father just nodded, but his hands relaxed a little.
“However, the recent incident brought us together again.”
“About that…” his father said.
“She was abducted by a man determined to take her to the border and marry her. I happened to be there when it happened, so I went in immediate pursuit. I could do nothing else.”
“In that I agree. No young woman deserves that fate.”
“Unfortunately I did not catch up with her until later, after dark, so her reputation was endangered. There was a fracas, which Lamaire and I did our best to quell, but the occupants of the taproom in the inn saw some of it and recognized Helena. I never made any secret of my identity.”
“So someone recognized you both?” the duke said.
Tom saw the point. “I had not thought that far.”
“But it is interesting, is it not, that you were so easily recognized? What was the name of the man who took her?”
“Everslade. However, Winterton claims he is not Lord Everslade, but an impostor. Is he one of ours?” They had agents everywhere, but Tom had never seen the man before he had come to London.
“No.”
“The current whereabouts of the real Lord Everslade are not known.”
“Hmm.” The duke plucked his pen from the tray, dipped it in the ink, and made a note. “I’ll make inquiries.”
“We left the impostor at the inn. I was more concerned with getting Helena to safety. What she said then, on the way back to town, convinced me that I was doing her a disservice to let her believe anything but the truth about us. I arranged to meet her privately and tell her.”
“Why did you not tell her immediately?”
Tom sent his father a sharp look. “She was distressed. You would want me to tell her that she had married her brother?”
The duke pursed his lips and frowned. “I see your point.”
“I met her and told her. Only then did she prove to me that her father could not have sired me.” He pushed the documents that Helena had given him to his father.
The duke took his time reading through the papers. Tom clasped his hands together to prevent drumming his fingers or fidgeting. His father could not abide fidgeting.
Eventually, his father raised his head, his face a careful mask of imperturbability. “So it appears we still do not know who fathered you. I would love to acknowledge you as my true son, but in truth, I cannot. I did not have intimate relations with your mother until after she gave birth to you, and that is the absolute truth. Someone else got there before I did. I will undertake to discover all I can, but we may never know.”
“Who would she be hiding? Who is so important that their identity must be kept secret?”
His father’s heavy-lidded eyes flickered just for a moment. “I do not know, but I will do all in my power to discover. I loved your mother very much, and she reciprocated the emotion. By telling me what she did, she risked everything we had.”
But his father had forgiven her, where most men would not have. He had even acknowledged Tom as his son.
The duke sighed. “Enough. Of course this means that you are still legitimately married to Lady Helena Vernon. That makes mincemeat of the rumors currently infesting every quarter of town.”
“Yes it does.” Tom felt a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he would not give way to it here. The happiness he felt was not appropriate for this place or time. “I mean to claim her as soon as possible. She is my wife, and I will acknowledge her as such. We will say we married quietly and chose to keep our union from prying eyes.”
“That will do,” the duke said. “I suppose there is no hope for it. But I cannot accept her into this house, Thomas. You must know that. I cannot risk her discovering anything she should not. She must become a Dankworth and cleave to you.”
Recalling Helena’s relationship with her family, Tom doubted that would ever come to pass, except nominally. He got to his feet. “I meant to hire a house for us until we have resolved the matter of the scandal. We can only scotch it by appearing in public, I believe. I was hoping for your support.”
His father was notorious for his cold behavior, particularly in public. In private he possessed a vicious temper, but very few people saw that, and he did his best to curtail it, having decided that matters undertaken in that state stood little chance of success. “A man,” he said once, “finding me in a temper has stolen a march on me. I have lost before I have begun.”
But fire burned in the Duke of Northwich’s eyes.
“You may disown me, sir,” Tom said.
“That is the devil of it,” his father replied. “I cannot. I have acknowledged you for many years, and I cannot cast you off now. Legally, you are my son and heir, and you will remain so. Until your dying day.”
Tom felt a chill, shivering through his very bones, despite the cozy warmth of the room they sat in. The fire spat, and the sound made him start in shock.
The doorbell clanged.
Premonition ate into Tom’s heart, and he left the room to stand at the top of the stairs.
Helena stood there. She had a hat crammed on her head, with curls tumbling down in glorious disarray, and a cloak was wrapped around her, completely hiding whatever she was wearing beneath.
Tom raced down the stairs and dragged her into his arms, kicking the door closed behind her. It slammed, the sound echoing through the house.
The duke appeared above, his voice blending with the sound of the slammed door. “What is the meaning of this?”
Tom ignored him, as well as the butler, who stood nonplussed in the hall. “Tea for her ladyship,” he rapped out, not caring who answered the call. He swung her up and headed for the stairs.
Helena gripped his coat, holding it to her eyes. Somewhere on the stairs she lost her hat, and her hair flowed down, streaming over her as it had that night at the inn. He would not let her go this time. Or ever, come to that. Tom took her into the drawing room, under the astonished eyes of his grandmother, who was taking tea in solitary splendor.
He took a seat, cradling her against him. “Grandmamma, this is probably not the right time, but I’d like you to meet my wife.”
“Well!” Getting to her feet, the dowager swept out of the room. A maid came in and placed her hands on the tea tray, but Tom curtly ordered her to pour a fresh dish for his wife. After she had done so, she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Helena had almost stopped shaking. Smoothing back her hair, he kissed her forehead, which was too hot for his liking. “What is it, my love? Who has done this to you?” With a little contortion, he managed to drag his handkerchief out of his pocket. Instead of giving it to her, he cleaned her up himself, mopping the tear stains from her face and holding it to her nose, commanding her to blow.
Her first effort was too feeble to have any effect, but after the second, the light returned to her eyes. She released her death grip on his coat, but did not try to leave him. That was just as well, because he would not have let her go. “My mother,” she said, her voice heavy with tears.
“Ah. Where was your brother?”
“He left the house earlier, making some inquiries on my behalf, he said. Eve was lying down in her room. My mother chooses her moments. Apparently she ordered the coach put to.” She swallowed. “She was determined to take me back to the country. She said”—she gulped—“she said I was not to worry, she would take care of everything. If necessary, she would have my father take you to the House of Lords for a divorce. I said I did not want that, and she said she would accuse you of forcible abduction. She wanted to sue you.”
Tom had not been aware that the door had opened, but his father had entered the room. He walked on silent feet to where Tom could see him.
“I have changed my mind,” he said softly. “Naturally your wife is welcome here, with us.”
“Why?” Tom could not believe his father did not have a scheme in mind.
“She is your wife,” he said simply. “Do you require anything?”
“We’ll let you know. Thank you, Papa.”
He cradled Helena’s head in his hand. “What did she do?”
“My mother had the traveling coach prepared. She told me to go to my room and dress for travel. I locked myself in and got out by the jib door and the servants’ quarters.”
“You walked here?” Astounded, Tom drew back to gaze at her face, and then he looked at his father.
“The duchess of Kirkburton is a determined woman.” Sighing, his father perched on the arm of a nearby chair. “I believe she has fostered some ill-feeling between our families, but I cannot blame her for that.”
“She’s more than that. If she had me in the country she would never let me go.”
When Helena tried to knuckle her eyes, Tom shushed her and wiped away the fresh tears carefully.
“Believe it, my son,” the duke said. “If I were married to her, I’d be tempted to put paid to my existence. She is an interfering, designing woman. Years ago, she determined that Lady Helena would be her support in her old age and determinedly set about making it so. The matter was none of my concern, but it is now.” He got to his feet. “Please assure her ladyship that she is perfectly safe here. I will find a maid to serve her.”
“Thank you.”
“I thought he would turn me out of doors,” she said.
Subdued now, her face pink, her eyes bloodshot, Helena was still the most beautiful woman Tom had ever seen.
“My father is a loving man, but sometimes his ideals get in the way. He has had to trim his sails, but at heart he’s still a romantic.”
“I never thought of him that way.”
“Not many people do. Come, drink your tea.” Easing her on to the sofa, he got up and handed her the dish in its saucer.
“That is pretty,” she remarked, just as if she were taking tea in the afternoon.
Her breeding went bone deep. The tea set was one of his grandmother’s favorites, a Meissen set decorated with spring flowers. Snowdrops and primroses rioted over the polished, delicate porcelain.
“I shall buy you a set,” he promised.
At least he managed to invoke a smile, watery though it was. Sitting back against the dark green upholstery, her silver-gilt hair flowing over her loose white-and-pink gown, she appeared like nothing so much as a fairy come down to earth.
“Come, love, that’s better.”
She finished her tea before she spoke. Her imperious gesture when she thrust the porcelain at him brought a smile to his lips.
“My mother has always been able to drive me into a complete pet,” she said. Her voice had almost regained its usual mellifluous tones. “My tears were as much frustration and anger as distress. At least, this time. I do have a lamentable temper. You should probably know that.”
“In this case it has driven you to exactly the right action.” He frowned. “Except running through the streets completely unattended. After your ordeal, my love, I cannot allow that.”
“I doubt anyone would have recognized the madwoman rushing past them as the prim and proper Lady Helena Vernon.” She tried for a smile.
“That is just as well, since you are Lady Alconbury.”
She paused, gazing at him in wonder. “So I am.”
“Would you like to rest? My room is your room. At least, until they make one ready for you.”
“Tell them not to bother.”
He burst into laughter, a note of shrillness marring the tone. “You will need somewhere for your belongings, at the very least.”
She spread her arms. “I come to you with what you see. Nothing more.” Plunging her hand down the front of her gown, she tugged out a gold chain. On it she had threaded his signet ring. “And my wedding ring.”
“I must see about getting you a proper one. And I will arrange for all the mantua makers, haberdashers, cobblers, and God knows who else to call. You are not leaving this house until I know more of the situation, so they will come here.”
“Ah, another managing man.” She put her hand to her heart and cast her gaze to the ceiling. “Will I ever be done with them?”
She could still make him smile. “You have recovered remarkably quickly,” he said. “But I know you, my love. Never do that with me.”
“What?” She swallowed.
“That mask of yours is remarkable, almost as effective as your brother’s. Do not show it to me.” He gentled his voice. He wanted to hear her laughter again, but only when it was sincerely meant. “I am your husband, and we will have no artifice between us.”
Her eyes rounded. “What, none?”
“No deception.” He would remain firm on this. “Only truth. Don’t you think our families have suffered enough from deceit and plotting?”
She nodded. “Yes. I think that too. That was why I refused to allow Julius to limit the damage, as he put it. We have lived a lie for the past five years, Tom, even though some of it was none of our doing. No more.”
“In that, my sweet, we are in accord.” He got to his feet. “Do you wish to dine in our room?”
“No. But I have nothing suitable to wear for dinner.”
“I’m sure we can find something for you. My sisters will have gowns aplenty. Chloe is nearer your coloring, but Emilia is more your size.” He assessed her figure, but found himself lost in her charms. The swell of her breasts, the lovely waist he knew from experience he could almost span with his hands and the curves her gown hid, her bottom and the graceful line of her thighs came to mind. His mouth went dry when he realized that was all his now. But the last thing she needed was a man lusting all over her. She needed care and consideration. Her fragile state was his to minister to, and he would ensure she had everything he could give her. “Would you like me to carry you?”
In an elegant swoop, she got to her feet. “Absolutely not. When I arrived, I was tired from running. That was all. I must thank your sisters kindly for the loan. I will not go back. I will not give my mother any opportunity to take me. She would have taken me with or without my permission, and frankly, I am tired of being abducted. I am not a sack of potatoes to be thrown from hand to hand.”
Crooking his arm, he watched as she laid her fingers on it in the exactly approved manner. Throwing her head back, her hair in glorious disarray, she accompanied him upstairs to his suite.