A Home for Helena (The Lady P Chronicles Book 2) (17 page)

"Not necessarily. But it
can
be. I mean, look at the Prince Regent, the way he flits around from mistress to mistress and yet seeks to divorce his wife for doing the same. It’s no wonder the people dislike him. His own father hates him.” She pursed her lips. “And don’t tell me I shouldn’t listen to gossip. It’s common knowledge; even the lowest beggar in the streets is aware of their future king’s character.”

James whistled. “You
do
have it in for the male sex, don’t you? Helena, surely you don’t believe Prinny’s behavior is typical of all of our gender! There are many men who regard their wives with respect and—affection. Like the Newsomes." Although his own marriage wasn't a good example.

Helena scowled. “You’re not getting it, are you, James? It’s not that there aren’t happy marriages, with husbands of good character who treat their wives with consideration and—love,” she said, glaring at him defiantly. “It’s that the law gives
them
rights their wives do not have!” She was on a roll now. “A woman’s property becomes her husband’s to do with as he pleases as soon as the ink is dry on the marriage certificate. She can’t do anything without her husband’s permission. In a divorce, she loses everything, including her children, and when he dies, she can’t even be guardian of her own children; some man must be appointed to do so.”

Her lip curled. “Why would any woman wish to risk everything she has on the whims of a man whose character she may not completely understand until after the marriage?”

James blinked. She had a point. And yet…

“For love, perhaps?” James said gravely, meeting her sparkling eyes with his. “Would love tempt you into marriage, Helena? Or are you determined to forever remain a spinster? No passionate nights in your cozy marital bed? No children or grandchildren to comfort you in your declining years? An independent,
lonely
life? Isn't love worth the risk?"

Helena glared at him, and turned away, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Helena? What’s wrong? Are you well?”

She swallowed. “I’m fine.” But her voice was husky.

A loud shriek interrupted their tête-à-tête, and both heads spun around in the direction of the sound.

“I think I’ve got one, Papa! I think I’ve got a fish. Help me, Papa! He’s trying to get away!”

James shrugged and gave her a helpless smile before hurrying over to help his daughter haul in her fish.

Helena took a deep breath before following him and enthusiastically congratulating Annabelle for her fine catch.

Alas, Annabelle was the only one to catch a fish that day, and it was her fish they dined on upon their return to Newsome Grange that day, after which, James bid them farewell, declaring his intention to return to London the next day.

Helena didn't meet his eyes at his departure, and he wished he hadn't made that theater engagement with the Henleys. What he really wanted was to continue his conversation with Helena and find out what had happened to make her so frightened of men and marriage. And somehow prove to her that not all men were monsters. That love was worth the risk. That
he
was worth the risk.

Was he really thinking of marrying Helena?

Perhaps a few days' in London was a good thing after all. He needed some time away to clear his head.

“
I
have
an exposition of sleep come upon me.”

James covered his mouth to camouflage a yawn. Much like Bottom, who was himself about to fall asleep, his ass’s head in Titania’s lap. It was a particularly uninspired production of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream,
and frankly, James found the intrigues and manipulations far too indicative of his own dilemma—even to the point of feeling like an ass.

He’d dallied with the idea of canceling the theater expedition after all; after reconciling with Helena—at least that was how
he
thought of it—he’d lost all interest in Mrs. Rhodes, who appeared to him to be a pale shadow of the fiery, opinionated Helena. Why he had ever thought he wanted a biddable wife was incomprehensible to him now. He tried and failed to imagine himself wed to the young widow. Her looks were unexceptionable—although she was pale and colorless compared to Helena—but she seemed to have no thoughts or emotions of her own. Although, he reflected, he thought he’d seen fear in her eyes at times when she looked at her cousins, particularly the largest one.

And that reminded him of his earlier suspicion that the Henleys were hiding something. If he could get her alone, he could probably get her to tell him, but thus far this evening her cousins had not left them alone.

Soon after, when the play had ended, he stepped out into the corridor to call for the coach he’d borrowed from Sir Henry, and Hugo—the big, burly redhead who looked ill-at-ease in formal raiment and reminded him more of a bouncer than a gentleman—insisted on accompanying him, and asked him unequivocally of his intentions toward “Cousin Adele.”

“My cousin is rather timid, y’know, like most ladies brought up sheltered in a genteel family, and, being a respectable lady, she can’t make her feelings known to you until you say something first.”

James tightened his hands into fists, and then slowly loosened them. Blast it all to hell! Just when he was considering how to manage breaking with Mrs. Rhodes and retreating from the wife hunt altogether,
this
had to happen! He’d done nothing wrong, of course, but he knew that favoring a lady even a few times gives rise to certain expectations. And
this
lady had three very intimidating protectors that he didn’t wish to antagonize.

“I have the highest regard for your cousin, Mr. Henley, but it’s a bit early in our acquaintance to know for sure that we should suit each other for marriage.”

Hugo Henley stopped in mid-stride and gripped his shoulder, nostrils flaring and a vein pulsing in his neck.

“What’s the hitch, Walker? She’s comely and biddable, and won’t be a hardship to take to bed. A man in your position can’t expect much more in a wife.”

James cleared his throat. He was sweating profusely, and it had nothing to do with the humidity in the theater. Before he could say anything more, Henley clapped him on the back and grinned.

“She won’t cost ye more’n fifty quid a year—doesn’t eat much and won’t need much in the way of frocks—one or two should be enough. Meh brothers and I can throw in a dowry of—say—five hundred pounds. What d’ya say, Walker?”

Now James was angry. Furious, actually. On behalf of Adele Rhodes—whose misfortune it was to be in the power of such men—and on behalf of women everywhere who were denigrated and exploited by them. It was unconscionable that the law allowed this to occur. For the first time, James began to understand what Helena had been telling him about the plight of women. It might be easy to assume that such atrocities were rare and that most men were considerate of their women if that was the experience
you
knew, but in many cases, James was beginning to realize, men were tyrants who used women for their own purposes and there was little anyone could do to stop it.

He backed away and glared at the oafish creature.

“As I said, Mr. Henley, I have the
highest regard
for your cousin,” he said emphatically. “And I find it repugnant and insulting to both myself and Mrs. Rhodes that you would expect me to appraise a respectable lady in the same terms as one might an animal. You, sir, are no gentleman, and I must ask you to please relieve me of your presence. I will fetch Mrs. Rhodes and return her to your household. Alone.”

It was probably a good thing that this encounter took place in a public venue, because James was tempted to punch the wretch in the face, and based on their relative sizes, it was quite possible the victor of such a confrontation would not be he.

He made an about-face and returned to the box where Mrs. Rhodes was waiting with the remainder of the Henley gang.

“Mrs. Rhodes?” he said as he re-entered the box and bent down to speak to her. “Allow me to assist you with your wrap. We are leaving now. Just the two of us,” he said, with a pointed look at her cousins.

“We are?” she said, her pale eyes looking up at him in surprise.

“Well, then, how are
we
supposed to get home?” said one of her cousins in a whiny voice.

“T’wouldn’t be proper,” complained the other.

James glared at them, and, without speaking, offered his arm to Mrs. Rhodes. She hesitated a moment, uncertain whether she should risk the ire of her cousins, and finally she swallowed and took it. After assisting her with her coat, he put on his own, collected his hat and walking stick, and proceeded with her out the door and down the hall, leaving the amazed cousins behind. Deliberately ignoring Hugo, he led her to the theater entrance and tossed a coin to a servant to notify his coachman that it was time to leave.

Once the coach began to move, James turned toward Mrs. Rhodes and demanded point blank that she tell him why her cousins were so determined to marry her off.

“If you are being abused in that household, Mrs. Rhodes, all you need do is tell me so, and I will take you to a place where you will be safe.”

“Wh-a-at? Why would you think that? What did my cousins tell you? No, of course not.” Even in the darkness, he could see that she was trembling.

James felt like shaking her, but instead, he took another approach.

“I beg your pardon, madam, but I must speak frankly. I mean you no insult, but I must inform you that I will not be paying my addresses to you.”

Was that a sigh of relief?

“It has nothing to do with you, as I have the highest respect for you, Mrs. Rhodes. I’ve come to the conclusion that I was wrong-headed to seek a wife at this particular time. The harvest will soon be upon us, and I shall have very little time for social niceties. I’ve no doubt that you would make some man an excellent wife.”

“Those are fine words,” she said tartly. “But I have yet to meet one, and time is running out. My cousins may be rude and uncouth, but they are, at least trying to help me. In their own rather vulgar way, of course.”

“But why? Is it money? Because if so… I am merely a gentleman farmer.”

She laughed bitterly. “Heavens no! At least—I’m not a fortune hunter. I could marry a rat-catcher for all my family cares. It may come to that, if I don’t find a respectable match soon.”

James’s jaw clenched. So he was rated slightly higher than a rat-catcher as a potential husband? He’d laugh about that later, but now he needed to find out why she was so desperate to marry.

“Why, Mrs. Rhodes?”

She fell back against the squabs and heaved a deep sigh. “I suppose there is no harm in revealing this to you now, since you have already decided against me.”

“But I told you…”

“Never mind,” she interrupted. “Have we not already resolved that issue? I know my own worth. I would have been an unexceptionable wife for you had you not been forever comparing me to some other woman. Your late wife, perhaps?” He started to protest, and she held up her hand to stop him. “There is no need to explain, Mr. Walker. Whether it be a living woman or a dead one, I suffer from the same malady. My husband and I loved each other. When he died at Waterloo, I didn’t wish to go on living. My family feared I would never re-marry, and end a burden on them for the rest of my life.”

The carriage stopped, and James saw that they had arrived at the Henley’s Cheapside home. Opening the window, he called out for the coachman to proceed until he indicated otherwise.

Then he turned back and regarded Adele Rhodes with interest. “So why did you change your mind?”

“I haven’t, actually. It’s my family who wishes to see me married. Not for any sentimental reasons or concerns for my happiness, I assure you. It’s just that—well—a few months ago, my aunt left me ten thousand pounds, but only if I’ve remarried by my twenty-fifth birthday. Which is roughly two months from now. If I am not wed by that time, the money goes to the foundling home.”

"I see." But he didn't, really. "But would not control of the inheritance then be passed on to your husband?"

Scowling, she stared down at her empty hands. "My aunt's will stipulates that my brother Thomas remain in control of the money. Aunt Philomena would never trust me or any man I married to handle the funds she purported to leave to me." She glared at him, a sour expression on her face. "So no, Mr. Walker, you won't get the money even if you do change your mind and decide to marry me."

"I'm sorry to hear it," he said, rolling his eyes. "But I must confess that I do not understand why your aunt did not leave the money to your brother in the first place, if she thought so poorly of you." He leaned over and patted her hand. "Was your aunt suffering from an ailment of the mind? Perhaps if you consulted a solicitor…"

She looked at him with over-bright eyes. "It's far too late for that. This was her way of manipulating me into remarrying. She always wanted Thomas to have it. The irony is that he won't get it either. He owes more than that to my cousins from gambling debts. As soon as the money changes hands, it will be funneled into their pockets. Because if they don't get it, it will be debtor's prison for him.

“It’s not the money I care about!” she said bitterly. “It wouldn’t have been mine at all, had Aunt Philomena not wished to force me into marriage. I should prefer to live quietly in a cottage somewhere and go on long walks and tend to my garden. But my widow’s pension won’t stretch to that, and as profligate as my brother is, I shouldn’t like to think of him spending the rest of his life at the Fleet.”

A wave of disgust—and a fair amount of self-loathing—passed through him as he considered her plight. Adele Rhodes wasn’t the first woman to be sacrificed for the welfare of others. If he were honest, he knew of many other such cases, not the least of which was the Prince Regent’s own wife.

Suddenly Helena’s face—flushed with passionate indignation, her eyes throwing sparks as she lashed out at the injustice of the law regarding women and marriage—came to mind. She was right to be wary of marriage. If anything went wrong, it was the woman who suffered. Adele Rhodes would tie herself for life to some man in order to keep her worthless brother out of prison. The whole matter needn't have involved her at all, except for the machinations of a demented old woman.

“Bloody hell!”

At Mrs. Rhodes astonished gasp, he quickly apologized. “Pardon me, madame. It is simply that I find it repugnant that a gentle lady such as yourself should find herself in such an untenable situation. I feel I must offer assistance of some kind. I have friends who would take you in, if you feel yourself in danger from your cousins." The Newsomes were still in Town. And Lady Pendleton, although he wasn't particularly eager to put himself in her debt. Or even the Melbournes—after all, it was Lady Melbourne who brought the widow to his notice in the first place.

She placed a hand on his arm. “I thank you for your concern, but they will not harm me. Except for this one-er-disagreement, we manage to get on well enough.”

“Are you certain?” He didn’t like leaving her to that loathsome Hugo’s ire, but then, the lady had shown herself to be a stronger woman that evening than he’d assumed earlier.

“Yes,” she said. “Things will work out the way they were meant to, I’m sure.” But she avoided his eyes.

James pulled at his collar. It didn't feel right to leave her to face such an unsavory situation. Offering her marriage seemed to be the only way he could help, and he might have done so, were it not for his fascination with the charms of a certain temporary governess. He'd come to London to find a wife, and Adele Rhodes was just the sort of wife he'd hoped to find. And yet, for some reason, it was Helena Lloyd's face that popped into his mind at the most unexpected times. Warmth, laughter, surprises… love. A cold, convenient marriage with Adele Rhodes was beginning to seem rather
in
convenient.

He took a deep breath. “Very well, but I must insist you send for me if you find yourself in need of help, Mrs. Rhodes.”

“Thank you, Mr. Walker.” But he knew she would not.

When he accompanied her to the door of her cousins' residence, she turned to him and kissed him softly on the cheek.

“Whoever she is, she’s a very lucky woman,” she said sadly before disappearing inside.

James stared at the door in front of him.

How had she known? Because James had just realized himself that—in spite of all his protestations to the contrary—he had fallen in love with Helena Lloyd. And she was bound and determined never to marry.

Bloody hell.

“
J
ames
! I’ve been waiting all day to tell you the news! Aunt Esther has rented a house in Mayfair—on Mount Street!—and she has invited us to visit for the Season. Is that not marvelous?”

She looked prettier than ever at times like this when she was excited about something. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled like emeralds and she couldn’t keep her body still—waving her arms back and forth, bobbing, pacing, and finally, grabbing his arm and leaning in so that she could run her hands through his hair. He loved seeing her happy like this—except for the fact that they were nearly always followed by temper tantrums. He responded warily.