Too Hot For A Rake Page 5
“See you at my ball,” said Georgiana cheerfully. “Order a beautiful gown for it, won’t you?” She kissed her and stepped back to make room for Mary.
“Bye, Helena. I’ll miss you,” said Mary.
“Me too,” said Jane. “Write me a letter all for myself. No one ever thinks to write to me, you know.”
Helena laughed at this. “I will if you promise not to eat so many scones.”
When Jane reluctantly agreed, Helena took her father’s arm and climbed the steps into the carriage. She fought back tears at being forced to separate from her family just when she needed them most.
She took the seat opposite Amy and wondered why they were not moving. At last, she rolled down her window. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t we under way?”
“We’re waiting for your escort, dear. Be patient,” said the duke. “You must have one, you know, to see to your safety.”
Helena sat back in the coach and closed her eyes, trying to still her rapid heartbeat. It was harder than she’d supposed to leave the only life she’d ever known. At last, she heard the sound of a horse stopping beside her coach.
“Ah, here he is at last. Safe journey, Helena,” said her brother-in-law.
She glanced out of her window and stiffened in shock. Her escort was the Marquis of Waverley.
“Morning, ma’am,” he said affably.
Helena reddened when their eyes engaged. Mortified, she nodded and turned her head away. Was there to be no end to her misery? She forced herself to meet his eyes. “Morning,” she mumbled.
He swept his beaver off and bowed to her. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am. Lord Waverley at your service.”
Helena’s heart played havoc as it knocked against her ribs. Of all the men in England, why oh why had this man—this rake—been chosen to be her escort? Didn’t Sebastian know of his reputation? Her father could not have known, could he? If he had known, he would never have allowed it.
How was she to bear his company for such a long journey when she couldn’t even bear the sight of him? When she longed to stop the carriage to wipe that idiotic grin off his face? When he was a painful reminder of the worst mistake of her life?
She was so engrossed in fury, her abigail had to touch her knee to gain her attention. “Are you all right, milady?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “What is it?”
“Well, milady, I’ve asked you the same question three times and you haven’t answered me,” said Amy in a trembling voice.
“Sorry. My thoughts were elsewhere. What is it?”
“Do you not think our escort handsome?”
“I hadn’t noticed. Beware handsome men, Amy, for they may be dangerous.”
“Oh no. Really?”
“You must protect me, Amy. Make sure the marquis doesn’t behave in an improper fashion.”
“I will, your la’ship. Don’t you worry about a thing. Your Amy will take good care of you.”
Helena’s smile was wan. “Thank you, dear. I’ll just close my eyes and rest a bit.”
But the luxury of sleep eluded her. She felt lost, cut off from everything she loved. Seeking some respite from her grim thoughts, she clutched the reticule holding her new journal. Helena had always wanted to travel, but not like this. Not running away from the vicious tongues of the London gossips whose whispers could infect an already festering wound.
For what seemed like the hundredth time, the humiliating scene of Darlington’s rejection flashed before her eyes. For what seemed like the thousandth time, she asked herself how she could have been so wrong about him. Had she forced herself upon him? She would never know the answer now. She knew only that he hadn’t loved her as she had loved him. Had Chris merely wished to wed the daughter of a duke to advance his diplomatic career? Helena sighed, searching for easier thoughts before the dismals sank her into madness.
To ease her mind, she turned to her abigail and said, “Tell me about Land’s End, Amy.”
“What would you like to know, milady?”
“That’s where you were raised, isn’t it? Did you live by the sea?”
“Near enough, milady. Me mum and me, we lived in the village of Sennen Cove. Me da, he owned Ship Inn, with rooms to let for travelers and an alehouse as well. Now me mum runs it wi’ her brother, me Uncle Tom.”
“Your father’s dead?”
Amy looked out the window and bit her lip.
“Forgive me, Amy. I didn’t mean to pry.” Helena reached across and patted her abigail’s hand.
“Oh no, milady. It’s just…well, I don’t know for sure.”
“Oh? How is that?”
“You see he was took up by the excise men near on ten years ago.”
“Oh,” said Helena. “That’s terrible.”
“Yes, milady. He was a good da and I loved him. Everyone in Sennen Cove loved him, no matter he was a free trader.”
A free trader? Amy’s chatter did indeed distract her. “I’m so sorry,” said Helena. “You must miss him.”
Tears welled up in Amy’s eyes. She sniffed. “I know ’twas illegal what he done, but we loved him and we had such a fine life. Now me mum has to work hard just to make ends meet.”
“Tell me what you know of smuggling.”
Amy was much encouraged by the interest her mistress showed. “Free tradin’, milady. Me da warn’t no smuggler. That would be bad.”
Helena suppressed a smile, for Amy’s tongue was reverting to familiar Cornish dialect. “Go on.”
“There’s not much of free tradin’ going on as was before. Mostly, free traders don’t hurt nobody that leaves them alone and keeps their tongue between their teeth. But then there’s the outsiders—them’s the real smugglers, not us, milady. Mostly, they come from someplace else and they do bad things. Nobody likes them, but everyone’s afraid of them.”
“Doesn’t anyone try to stop them?”
Amy thought for a moment. “I don’t know about that, milady. We don’t speak bad of our own and we don’t speak bad of outsiders for fear. That scurvy lot might well murder us. Most of the time, when the excise men come round to ask questions, folk don’t see nothin’ and don’t say nothin’.”
Helena said, as much to herself as to Amy, “I’d always thought that smugglers and pirates were romantic.”
Amy’s eyes lit up as she warmed to her task. “Some, mayhap. When I was a wee mite, I saw Black Bart hisself. It was dark at night, and me da had gone out, ’cause the lantern on the bluff had blinked three times.” Amy leaned closer. “That’s the signal that a ship has hit the shoals in the cove. The alehouse cleared out and I was left alone. I couldn’t even see out the window, it was that thick with fog.
“Anyways, the door banged open and a tall man appeared dressed all in black. His cape swirled about him and his hat covered his face. Even though I was a child, I knew who he was right off. I lowered my eyes like I was taught, but he jus’ laughed and pinched my cheek. Right here.” Amy pointed to a place on her left cheek. Her eyes gleamed with the thrill of hero worship.
Helena felt an excitement she lacked only moments before. She might put her journal to good use after all and try to write a tale about free traders. Perhaps she would become a famous author like Caroline Lamb. Her spirits rose.
“What happened then?”
Amy leaned forward until they were nose to nose. “And then…”
She was so engrossed in Amy’s tale, she gave a start when their carriage drew to a halt at a small inn in Reading on the road to Bristol.
“Change of horses, ma’am,” said Waverley when he opened her door. “We’ll stop once more to change horses, this time in Swindon, before we reach Bristol, but there we shall remain for the night. I’ve ordered a light repast here to sustain us until then.”
She had no choice but to take his outstretched hand. “Thank you, sir.” She stepped down and followed him inside to the dining room of a rustic tavern, for the inn lacked a private parlor. “My servants?”
He held out a chair for her and she took it, while a waiter served them wine, cold meats, cheese and fruit, but she could not find a word to say. Thus they ate in uncomfortable silence.
“I don’t bite, you know,” Waverley said in an attempt at humor.
“Forgive me, sir. I’m not the best of company, but it has nothing to do with you. I…I’m sorry I’m such a poor companion.”
“You’re forgiven, ma’am. Let us try for easier terms, shall we? It will make the journey less tiresome.” He sipped his wine. “You have a lovely smile, Lady Helena. I recall seeing it once. Do try to exercise it more often lest you lose the knack.”
She laughed at this, and relaxed. “You’ve scored a well-deserved hit, sir. I’ll try, I promise.”
Helena slept once they were under way again, the wine having calmed her ruffled nerves. She woke three hours later, when they reached Swindon to change horses again, but she didn’t leave her carriage, for the ostlers did their work quickly and they were back on the road within ten minutes.
By the time they reached Bristol, it was dusk. The courtyard of Arnos Manor, where they were to put up for the night, was lit by a full moon. The twin turrets of the baroque manor hinted of a Gothic past. No such thing, Helena learned when Casper helped her down. To the right of the front door, a bronze plaque read: “Arnos Manor, former home of the Hon. William Reeve, Bristol Merchant. Erected 1760.”
Waverley threw his bridle to the stable boy and dismounted. His boots landed hard on the cobblestones, sending pins and needles through his feet. Bloody hell, it would take at least a week before he would recover from the bruising jolts of the rutted road, one of the better ones in England.
The marquis observed Helena, already at the door of the inn. My lady’s abigail, a pert little thing, had her hands on her hips and was surveying her surroundings.
That lass is full of self-importance, he noted with amusement as he watched her accost the landlord. “My mistress needs your best rooms and a private parlor as well, my good man.”
The landlord gave her a sly once-over. “And who might your mistress be, may I ask?”
“Lady Fairchild, from London, she is.”
The landlord nodded. “All’s ready, then. Been expecting her la’ship.” He bowed to Helena, noting with approval her elegant traveling costume, a cloak of rich, green velvet and a matching plumed hat. “Welcome, milady. His grace always stays here during hunting season. His grace sent word ahead and that’s a fact. Your chambers are ready.”
Waverley strode to Helena’s side. “Evening, ma’am. I’ll join you for dinner in one hour.” Without waiting for an answer, he bowed and entered the inn, nodding to the innkeeper as he passed.
“Milady,” asked the landlord, “shall I send a tub and hot water up for you?”
“Thank you, sir. Please do.”
An hour later, after Amy helped her bathe and change, Helena sat by the fire in the private dining parlor, staring at the flames. “Go down to the taproom for your own dinner, Amy, and see to it that Casper is fed as well.”
“I thought to remain here to serve you, milady.”
“There are waiters for that task. I won’t need you again until bedtime.”
“Yes, milady.” Amy walked to the door, but with reluctance.
Helena sighed, understanding that she had done something to upset the young woman. “What is it, Amy?”
“But who will watch over you? That man—Lord Waverley, I mean—told the innkeeper he would take his dinner with you.”
“I shall be quite safe, I assure you. I’ll send for you if I need your help.”
Amy chewed on her lip.
“Off with you, Amy,” said Helena gently but firmly.
Amy gave in at last, but she bowed herself out with the utmost reluctance.
She brushed past a maid who proceeded to lay the table. The waiter followed, carrying a tray heavily laden with covered dishes.
Helena’s eyes widened at the sight. “There must be some mistake. My abigail could not possibly have ordered all this food for me. There’s enough here for an army.”
The waiter looked up from his task in surprise. “Oh no, milady, ‘twas milord done the ordering.”
“I see.” Panic washed over her at the thought of having to dine with Waverley. She glanced frantically around the room, looking for a way out, ready to bolt. Only the one door and a window too small for escape kept her glued to her seat.
When the door swung open, Lord Waverley entered the dining room and made an elegant leg. He wore gleaming Hessian boots, fawn buckskin breeches, the kind that most men favored when traveling, a white linen shirt with an elaborately tied neck cloth and a blue superfine jacket over a yellow silk vest.
“You look startled to see me, ma’am,” he drawled. “Did you not expect me?”
“Of course I expected you. I had little choice in the matter. It’s just…your elegance has taken me by surprise.”
“My valet will be pleased at the compliment, ma’am.” He turned to the waiter, who remained at the sideboard. “You may go. We’ll help ourselves.”
Helena felt trapped. She wanted the waiter to remain, but she dared not say so without looking foolish. “I wasn’t aware that you had a valet.”
Desmond looked amused. “I sent him on ahead in my coach this morning. He’s not used to riding a horse, you see.” He checked his grin, wondering what her reaction would be when she met his unusual valet.
She changed the subject. “How is it you offered to be my escort?”
“You wrong me, ma’am. I did no such thing.”
“Indeed? Then what is the right of it, may I ask?”
“Did you believe it was my own choice? You seem to have forgotten you are the daughter of a powerful duke. Frankly, I thought it was you who had requested my services, especially after that night….”
Her cheeks grew hot. “Don’t you dare bring up that night. If you are the gentleman you appear to be, I beg you to put it out of your mind.”
“I might have put it out of my mind….” He paused to examine his nails. When he looked up, his eyes pierced hers. “If you had behaved like the lady you appear to be.”
Stung by this, she glared at him, drawn to him at the same time. His sun-streaked hair was tied with a black ribbon. His deep blue eyes mesmerized her.
“You’ve scored another hit, Lord Waverley. One I clearly deserve. My apologies if I have wronged you. Allow me to rephrase my question, if I may. How is it you came to be my escort?”
“That’s better, ma’am. Your manners are improving.”
“Improving? What have I missed? Oh. Sorry. Won’t you be seated?”
“Kind of you.” Before he sat, he filled their plates. When he set them down, he poured wine in both goblets. Only then did he flip the tails of his coat and take the seat opposite her. “Shall we dine?” Without waiting for her answer, he attacked his plate as though he hadn’t had a meal in ages.
She toyed with her food, for she had no appetite, but her mouth was as dry as dust. She raised the goblet to her lips and sipped her wine. Helena watched him with lowered eyes as he devoured his food. She couldn’t help comparing him to Chris, whose table manners were almost effeminate. No dainty dilettante here, she thought, watching him attack his dinner with a lusty appetite. Without warning, her terrible faux pas that night in Darlington’s guest chamber came to mind and she blushed.
Waverley caught the blush. “Do my manners offend you?” He shrugged. “Sorry for it, but I haven’t eaten since early this morning and I am as hungry as a bear.”
“Go ahead. Enjoy your dinner.” She finished her wine in one swallow.
He stopped long enough to refill her glass. When his plate was clean, he wiped his mouth and took a deep draught of wine. “Ah! That’s better. I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the waiter, but I did mean to compliment you on how well you look tonight, ma�
��am. Yellow becomes you. You should wear it more often.”
She ignored his attempt at flattery. “Now that you have finished your dinner, if it’s not too much to ask, what is your explanation as to how you came to be my escort?”
“Viscount Sidmouth, the home secretary, issued the order, but it was his deputy who delivered it. I agreed since our destinations are the same. I am going home to Waverley Castle and you are going there to visit my grandmother. It was put in the form of a polite request, of course, yet I felt I had no choice but to agree.”
“Had no choice? How is that possible?”
“What reason to decline their request would you have me give, ma’am? Under the circumstances, I couldn’t very well reveal our first meeting, could I?”
Helena hung her head. “No, of course not. Thank you for that. Did the deputy home secretary tell you he is my brother-in-law?”
“He did indeed. He also extracted a promise from me to treat you well. I gave my word, in fact, that I would behave as a gentleman toward you.” Waverley grinned. “He knows of my reputation as well, you see. Have no fear, ma’am. I shall be on my best behavior, especially since you are to be a guest in my home.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated as if she thought better of what she had been about to say.
“What is it?”
She lowered her eyes to her hands. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever live down my mortification at what I did to you that night in Darlington’s home. I cannot imagine what you must think of me.”
He softened as he examined her face. “Aside from thinking that you are an incredible beauty, you mean? I think you are the bravest, most giving of females to have done what you did for the man you loved. If you must know, ma’am, I wish I had truly been the object of your passion that night instead of Darlington.”
“Darlington spurned me for it.”
“The more fool he, then. He’ll never find another woman to love him with such devotion, ready to give him her all. If it had been me, I would have been honored,” he said, his voice as soft as a song.