The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (24 page)

If Helena’s arms had not been weighed down by packages she would have thrown her hands up in the air. It seemed impossible to disabuse Sherburne of the notion that the earl was pursuing her.

“Please, Sherburne, do not speak of this with others,” she said urgently.

“As though I would gossip!” replied the maid indignantly.

Helena sighed with frustration. “I am not going to marry Lord Wroxton,” she pronounced clearly.

“If you say so, miss,” said Sherburne, with what to Helena seemed suspiciously like a wink.

Giving up the fight, Helena walked to her carriage and climbed in, disposing of her packages on the seat next to her. Sherburne followed her, still smiling warmly at her mistress. Helena gave orders to the coachman to take them to Mrs. Honeysett’s house.

By the time they drew up before Damaris’ town house minutes later, Helena’s thoughts were in a complete muddle. Between Denby’s unpleasant insinuations and Sherburne’s obvious belief that the nuptials between Lord Wroxton and herself were to be performed at any moment, she felt quite defeated. She rapped the knocker and was admitted by the butler, who told her Mrs. Honeysett was home and would be pleased to see Miss Keighley. Sherburne went off to the kitchen to visit with the cook, a friend of hers, and Helena followed the butler up the elegant staircase, rather relieved. Perhaps Damaris could help her sort through her problems.

When she entered the morning room, Damaris stood and rushed over to hug her eagerly.

“My dear, how wonderful of you to visit me,” she said. “I have been so frightfully bored, I thought I must expire of ennui. I prayed something interesting might happen, and you have been supplied to me.”

Helena hugged her in return, and sank down on the settee. Damaris eyed her briefly.

“Bring us tea, Hudson,” she told the butler. “If there are other visitors, I am not at home.”

She seated herself next to Helena in a swirl of silk skirts and possessed herself of one of her friend’s hands.

“Tell me all about it, dear,” she said encouragingly.

“All about what?”

“Whatever it is you came here to tell me,” said Damaris. “I have to guess it is about the Wicked Earl.”

“I am sick to death of the sound of the man’s name!” said Helena heatedly.

Damaris blinked. “I didn’t say it. “

“No, but you were speaking of the Earl of Wroxton, and I have had enough of that for today!”

“Then we shall speak of something else,” said Damaris brightly. She turned an expectant gaze on Helena.

“Everyone seems to think that he is courting me!” Helena exclaimed.

“Well, is he?”

Helena bit her lip. “Yes—no, he is not.”

“Which is it?” asked Damaris practically. “I must admit some stories have come to my ears about the very particular attention his lordship has been paying to you.”

“What have you heard?” demanded Helena.

Damaris shrugged. “That you spend every day together. Some will have it that he is courting you and others—well, they have an uglier view of the situation.”

“Yes, Denby made sure to tell me that,” said Helena bitterly.

“You saw Lord Denby?”

“In the high street. He was very insulting. He insinuated that I—that Lord Wroxton—that we—”

“That you what?” asked Damaris innocently.

“You know what I mean,” said Helena crossly.

“Indeed, I do.”

Helena made an exasperated noise. “I have never been so humiliated,” she declared.

Damaris gave her a curious look. “It does not seem to have bothered you overmuch when the whole world thought Denby had compromised you. Why are you angered now when a much handsomer and nobler man is thought to be your suitor?”

Helena paused, puzzled, and Hudson chose that moment to enter with the tea tray. He placed it on the table and Damaris busied herself with the cups. After the butler exited, she extended one to her friend.

“You did not answer my question,” she said.

Helena frowned. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “My staff is all convinced that he is wooing me, and Denby—well, he made some very insulting comments. But it is all nothing.”

“Nothing?” asked Damaris.

Helena looked down into her teacup. “I have spent some time with him of late,” she admitted.

“I’ve heard you are helping him plan his ball,” said Damaris cautiously.

“Exactly. That is all it is.”

Damaris shook her head. “My dear, that is not all it is.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“’Love and cough cannot be hid,’” quoted Damaris succinctly.

Helena stared at her. “Are you saying you think I am in love with Wroxton?”

“I am saying I know you are in love with Wroxton. No, do not argue with me,” she said, holding up her hand. “I knew the last time we met, and had very strong suspicions even at the assembly.”

“I don’t give two groats for the man,” protested Helena. “He is a profligate wastrel, and far too sure of himself.”

Damaris gave her a pitying look. “So you are spending all this time with him out of mere neighborly concern?”

“It is only right that I help him,” protested Helena. “He in turn, is helping me catch the smugglers.”

“Ah yes, the smugglers. I had forgotten them.”

“Well, I haven’t!” said Helena, realizing dimly that she had barely spared them a thought in the past weeks.

“Tell me, is he in love with you too?” inquired Damaris.

Helena gaped at her. “Of course he is not in love with me. I have told you, there is nothing between us.”

“Oh, there is definitely something between you. The question is, do you agree on what it is?” Damaris smiled. “My dear, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me the truth.”

Helena flushed, realizing that she had indeed come to Damaris hoping for some solution to her dilemma. She put down her teacup and looked at her friend squarely.

“He asked me to marry him,” she said quietly.

Damaris squealed. “How wonderful! When is the wedding?”

“I am not going to marry Lord Wroxton,” Helena said fiercely.

“Why not? He is handsome, rich, and amusing. I cannot think of better qualities in a husband!”

“Except for affection and constancy,” said Helena dryly.

“Pish,” said Damaris. “Clearly you are very fond of him, and I must imagine he has some feelings for you, or he would not have made you an offer.”

“No, he has no feelings for me,” said Helena in a small voice. “He felt he had to offer me the protection of his name.”

“Helena! You did not!” Damaris looked at her closely. “You did! You are having an
affaire
with Lord Wroxton. I told you that you should. How wonderful—and unusual--that you listened to me.”

“We are not having an
affaire
,” said Helena.

“Are you not?” Damaris seemed to be disappointed.

Helena shrugged. “Perhaps we are. In any event, he feels he must offer for me, as he has despoiled me. I’ll not be married to a rake merely because he feels it is his duty.”

“A moment ago you said he is irresponsible,” Damaris pointed out. “Yet now you are annoyed that he wishes to marry you.”

“I cannot wed a man would almost immediately feel smothered by his marriage. Surely you can see that? I hope for affection and companionship in marriage, and he would soon be off to London to see his mistress.”

“Affection and companionship?” said Damaris incredulously. “Surely you didn’t enter into this liaison for those things!”

“I didn’t say I wished to stop,” Helena replied with a small smile. “I said I won’t marry him.”

Damaris shook her head. “You are being remarkably silly. You realize he has no obligation to offer for you; after all, you are already believed to be compromised long ago by Denby. If he wishes to marry you, is it too much to believe that he cares for you?”

Helena looked away. “He has a mistress in London,” she said distantly.

“All men have mistresses in London!” Damaris claimed broadly. “She is not here, is she? Have you seen her since he met you, or more importantly, has he?”

“Of course not,” said Helena. “But he has also been at Mrs. Featherhaugh’s house, and you know what happens there. I am told that he has a long acquaintance with her, and they were—friends—on the Continent.”

“I had heard some stories,” Damaris admitted. “But I would not be concerned. Wroxton is not an unblemished boy who never left his mother’s apron strings. He would not be nearly so enticing if he were.”

“But to go there when he had—had asked me to marry him. He took Arthur as well!”

“Did he? I’m sure it was good for the boy.”

“Damaris!” Helena glared at her. “Are you my friend, or Wroxton’s?”

Damaris patted her hand. “Yours, to be sure, my dear. But you are behaving in a way that only convinces me further that you love the Wicked Earl.”

“I do not love him,” protested Helena. “He is just very—”

“Yes?” prompted Damaris.

“Very interesting,” said Helena anticlimactically.

Damaris paused a moment, seeming to ponder her next words, then continued, “You, my girl, are clearly are in love with Lord Wroxton, and he desires to marry you. It would be foolish to say no.”

“It would be foolish to say yes,” countered Helena. “I am not the woman to sit meekly watching my husband romance other women. I would be better off a spinster at Keighley Manor. At least I would not be humiliated.”

“What will you do when he does marry?” Damaris nodded when Helena shot her a concerned glance. “Because he will, you know. He must; he needs an heir. He will bring her to Wroxton Hall as his countess. Do you want to be the woman he goes to, while she sits alone at home?”

“That is not fair,” protested Helena. “I would not do this were he married!”

“Would you not?” Damaris eyed her closely. “You seem very smitten.”

“I’m not a fool; he will tire of me long before he brings a bride to Wroxton,” said Helena simply. “I will only be to him the woman he wiled away a few weeks with, years ago, at a dance or a dinner party. It will all be very civilized.”

Damaris raised her hands in the air. “You are the most stubborn, unromantic woman I have ever known! You have the Wicked Earl at your beck and call, begging you to marry him, and you envision only a melancholy future of spinsterhood.”

“I am not sure he is at my beck and call,” said Helena slowly. “It is very possible I am at his.”

Damaris squeezed her hand. “Ah, so you came into Folkestone today to show him otherwise?” she asked knowingly. “No, do not bother to deny it. Why are you so sure he does not care for you?”

“No doubt he is fond of me in his way—as he is surely fond of all his women. He speaks no word of love.”

“Why would he?” asked Damaris sensibly. “You don’t want to tell him your feelings.”

“I couldn’t possibly tell him I—” Helena broke off.

“That you are in love with him,” Damaris finished for her.

“How can I be in love with someone so glib and irresponsible?” asked Helena miserably.

“There’s talk that he has already started a number of improvements on the estate, and the tenants are very pleased with his actions,” said Damaris. “He is no longer the young man who behaved so foolishly; his time on the Continent must have taught him a thing or two.”

“Yes, how to play cards and seduce women,” Helena retorted.

“He may well have known that before he left,” teased Damaris. “But Helena, to be the Countess of Wroxton would be no mean thing, and you love him. He might make you very happy.”

“I would rather be unmarried—or married to a man I did not love—than have to watch him be with other women,” said Helena quietly.

Damaris smiled sadly at her. “I ask only that you give it some thought,” she said. “But enough of this. You have your own decision to make. Tell me about the shops instead; did you buy a dress for the ball? I have ordered the most lovely gown from my
modiste
in London.”

Helena allowed herself to be distracted by talk of dresses and jewelry, and they spent the next hour chatting about the upcoming party. Damaris did not mention the earl again, and Helena tried her best not to think of him. But in the carriage on the way home, her thoughts wandered back to his golden hair, and the glinting smile in his blue eyes. She wondered if he was disappointed when he came to the manor and found her gone.

Thoughts of how Wroxton might have amused himself in her absence led quickly to the memory of Lord Denby’s words, and Malcolm’s visit to Mrs. Featherhaugh’s home. Damaris, she realized, had heard those stories as well. He had gone from their tryst in the Queen’s Room to the arms of Mrs. Featherhaugh. Not only that, he had taken Arthur with him, and doubtless introduced her innocent brother to all kinds of debauchery. Helena twisted her hands in her lap, ignoring the questioning look on Sherburne’s face.

By the time they returned to Keighley Manor, Helena had worked herself into a splendid temper. It was abundantly clear to her that Lord Wroxton was toying with her. No doubt he thought it very amusing that she had fallen so quickly into his snare. Having known him only a little longer than three weeks, she had allowed him to do with her as he chose. He must think very little of her, she realized with a sense of chagrin.

When she emerged from the carriage, Helena stormed up the stairs to the house. She would write to his lordship immediately, informing him that she would no longer help him in planning his ball. He had a household full of servants who could do that for him. From today forward, her interactions with him would be distant, and related only to stopping the free traders.

With these thoughts filling her mind, she marched into the hall and stopped abruptly at the sight of Arthur and Malcolm chatting easily in the door of the drawing room. The earl seemed to be particularly comfortable, his lithe body emphasized by the form-fitting coat and buckskin riding breeches he wore. Helena stopped, dismayed to find her conviction shaken. It would have been far easier to write a note than explain her intentions in person.

“Ah, there you are, Helena,” said Arthur. “How fortunate that you’ve returned. Wroxton was just about to leave, but now he can see you after all. He has some questions about the musicians, and I had to admit I had no idea what he was talking about.”

“Oh?” said Helena icily.

Arthur gave her a perplexed look. “I don’t mean to disappoint you by not knowing about the local fiddlers. I must be off; I’ll leave you two to sort it out.”

He shook Malcolm’s hand, and dropping a kiss on Helena’s cheek, left them with a cheery wave of his hand. Helena found herself staring into Malcolm’s amused eyes.

“I am lucky you returned just now,” he said. “Otherwise, I might not have seen you until tomorrow.”

“I have plans for tomorrow,” she replied defiantly.

“Do you?” Malcolm surveyed the heightened color in her cheeks, and glanced at the footman, who was standing stoically against the wall, staring determinedly off into space. “Then we must speak today. Would you care to take a turn in the garden with me?”

“No, I would not,” said Helena firmly.

Malcolm’s lips twitched slightly and he took a step closer to her. Helena stood her ground.

“I have no notion why you are behaving like this, though I have no doubt it is something I have done,” he murmured, leaning in close so she could hear him. “If you do not come with me now, I will have to pick you up and carry you.”

“You would not!” she gasped.

“Try me.”

Helena met his gaze, and saw only determination and a touch of infuriating amusement there. “Very well. One turn around the garden.”

He offered her his arm, and she took it gingerly, annoyed at the frisson of excitement that shot through her as she did so. She was quite sure he was aware of her feelings as he led her out to the terrace, then down the steps into the garden.

Malcolm was silent at first and Helena stole a glance at him. His profile was turned to her as he ambled with her down the graveled path, apparently enjoying the warmth of the sunshine and the pleasant view before him. A few minutes passed in silence, and finally she could bear it no longer.

“Did you want to ask me about the musicians?” she demanded.

“The musicians can go hang themselves,” he replied pleasantly.

“Then why are we out here in the garden?”

“Hush. In a minute, I feel sure we are going to have a lively conversation, and I don’t wish to be in full view of the house.”

Helena stewed silently as Malcolm led her to the yew tunnel. They stepped into its shade, broken here and there by shafts of golden light slipping between the leaves that shook lightly in the breeze. About halfway through, Malcolm stopped and turned to her.

“I missed you today,” he said gently.

She hunched one shoulder at him. “You saw me yesterday, and will doubtless see me again tomorrow. I cannot think what difference it made.”

“It made a great deal of difference to me. Why did you go into Folkestone so abruptly? You made no mention of it yesterday.”

“You do not order my comings and goings, my lord.”

“I merely asked a question. Did I reproach you in any way?”

“No,” she admitted reluctantly. There was a moment of silence as he regarded her calmly. “I decided to buy a dress for the ball,” she finally said.

“You didn’t need to do that. I would be pleased to obtain one from London for you. I know an excellent
modiste
.”

Helena’s ire, which had begun to fade, returned with a rush at his words. Of course he would know a first rate
modiste
, she thought. No doubt he had bought clothes for dozens of women.

“I can purchase my own dresses,” she snapped. “Allow me to disabuse you of the notion that you have the ordering of my life.”

“I’m sure no man will ever have the ordering of your life,” he said with a faint smile, which only enraged her further.

“I am not one of your soiled doves to worship at your feet, nor will I allow a man whose besmirched reputation is a watchword among the dissolute to have the dressing of me. I do not wish to resemble a vulgar gaming house proprietress,” she bit out.

Malcolm grew very still, and Helena eyed him warily, fearing that she might have gone too far.

“You are infuriating,” he said finally, his voice still cordial. “By what right do you scold me?”

“You think you can come here and—and use me, and I will be docile and complacent,” she replied heatedly.

“I have no expectation of docility on your part. However, I am confused as to what exactly we are talking about. Pray enlighten me.”

“You were seen at Mrs. Featherhaugh’s!” Helena burst out. “Not only that, you took Arthur with you.”

“Ah. It did him no harm, I promise,” Malcolm assured her. “I believe we agreed I would not corrupt your brother. Del kept an eye on him. It will stand him in good stead to know what such places are like.”

“It is not only Arthur—it is you!” she said. “Why would you go to such a place? All the world knows what happens at Mrs. Featherhaugh’s!”

Macolm’s lips twitched slightly as he surveyed her indignant face. “What is it that you know goes on there?” he asked pleasantly.

“Gambling, and drinking, and—and other things,” she spat out.

“Other things?” he prompted.

“You know very well what I mean.” Helena crossed her arms, refusing to be drawn.

“I suppose I do. But I will have plain speaking between us, Helena. You accuse me of going to the home of a notorious widow and doing rather more than merely gambling for a few hours. In fact, you believe I sampled the wares of some bits o’ muslin. Is that it?”

She glared up at him but did not speak.

“You haven’t answered me,” he said, unperturbed.

“Yes, that is precisely it,” she said. “You say you wish to marry me, and then you go to such a place. Everyone is speaking of it.”

“Everyone? I wonder who told you this tale. Who did you see today in Folkestone, Helena?”

She bit her lip and looked away.

“Was it Denby?” he asked quietly.

Helena nodded slowly, and Malcolm gave a harsh laugh. “Another matter I need to settle with his lordship. The list grows long. But that is for another time. Now, however, it is obvious that you feel yourself ill-used by me. As it happens, I did not take advantage of the amusements Mrs. Featherhaugh offered me. But if I had, what difference could it possibly make? I have asked you to marry me, more than once, and you have flung it back in my face each time. What you said to me only minutes ago should be repeated; you do not order my comings and goings. If you had agreed to wed me, I would be answerable to you for my behavior. But if you are not beholden to me, then neither am I to you.”

Helena flushed as the truth of his words hit home. What was she to him, after all? “You are right,” she said stiffly. “I have refused you, and therefore have no claim upon you.”

“You can accept my offer any time you choose.” His voice was gentle. “I would then be only too happy to spend all my time with you.”

“Acquit me of trying to rein you in, my lord. I deserved your rebuke.”

“What, are you so demoralized?” he teased. “That is not the Helena I know. I think I prefer it when you scold me.”

She looked up at him, her eyes troubled. “Everyone is talking about us,” she said after a moment. “The servants, Damaris—even Denby—seem to know that we are—involved.”

Malcolm sighed. “I feared that would happen. But there is little we can do. If our plot is to succeed, needs must we spend time together. Not that I regret it. Do you?”

Helena struggled with an answer. “No,” she finally said.

“No doubt Bulkeley is reporting back to Denby on our doings. I regret the blow to your reputation, of course. If you wish, I can be more distant.”

Helena fought down a rising sense of panic. Malcolm was offering her what, only moments ago, she had thought she wanted, but the idea of not seeing him each day made her feel desolate. The ball was only a week away, and afterwards there would be no reason for him to remain in Kent; he would return to London, and she would soon be a distant memory. She might as well enjoy her time with him while she could.

“I do not care what Denby thinks of me,” she said, “and I have no reputation to lose.”

“You keep saying that, but I would not want to harm you in any way,” replied Malcolm carefully.

“I know.” Helena turned away for a moment. “Why did you go to Mrs. Featherhaugh’s?” she asked, unable to help herself.

Malcolm laughed. “I told you Denby lost a large sum of money gambling, did I not?”

“You did.” Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Was it to you?”

He nodded.

“Oh. How clever of you. You might have told me.”

“I could not propose my plan to you until I was sure I could beat Denby at the tables. You would have been angry had I told you beforehand, and I have been treated to your reaction when you learned afterwards,” he said pensively.

“You must find me very difficult,” said Helena slowly.

“I find you delightful.” Malcolm wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her to his side. “But you know that.”

Helena relaxed into him for a moment, then withdrew slightly. “Was it necessary to take Arthur with you? He is only a boy, and I do not want him to cultivate the vice of gambling.”

Malcolm chuckled. “You need have no fears for your brother, my dear; he had little interest in the various amusements on display. So, now you know why I was at Mrs. Featherhaugh’s. Do I not deserve a reward for going into a den of vice in your service?”

“Do you think me foolish enough to believe you went there only for me?”

“I wish you would believe it, as it is true.” Malcolm drew her close again and raised one hand to tug at the bow of her bonnet. The satin ribbons slid open, and he pulled the fashionable confection off her glistening curls and dropped it casually on the ground. “I tell you honestly, Helena, I found it damned dull. The charms and risks of gambling in Folkestone pale in comparison to other cities I have visited, while no woman there could hold a candle to you. You are doing some very odd things to my notion of a pleasant evening.”

“Nonsense,” protested Helena, but was distracted from their argument when he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. A little sigh of pleasure escaped her as he worked his way up to her ear and then across her cheek. How she had missed him today, she thought. She would be quite infuriated at the thought, she thought dimly, if only he were not kissing her so splendidly.

Malcolm’s lips pressed feather light on her closed eyelids, before coming to rest on Helena’s waiting lips. He touched them gently, once, twice, sipping at her, and then returning, asked for entrance, which she willingly granted. The meltingly languid sensation of their tongues was almost too compelling, she thought somewhat despairingly, as her body responded to his kisses, her breasts swelling against her bodice.

Wroxton let his hands glide down from her shoulders to her hips, pressing them against the bulge growing in his breeches, hinting of satisfaction to come. Helena responded ardently, returning his kisses, and then turning her head to nip at his chin, and then kiss the side of his neck, as she put her hands inside his jacket to clasp him closer.