by Monica Burns
The impulsive nature of his siblings was something he’d learned to avoid at all costs. To find his self-imposed restraint tested so easily was troubling. How could one woman drive him to such distraction without having spoken one word to him? It was the most frustrating experience he’d encountered in a very long time.
God help him, but he needed to find a way out of this mess he’d gotten himself into. Focus. He needed to focus on where he could send her. He should have done something other than bring the woman here. But he’d not even considered the possibility last night. He’d been too intrigued by her to think of anything else. And if he were being honest, he didn’t want to send her anywhere. He wasn’t ready to give her up just yet. The confession tugged a dark groan from him.
Determined to send his thoughts in a new direction, Sebastian gritted his teeth and turned his attention to the mail lying on the table. Opening the envelope from the dressmaker, he grimaced at the total. Louisa had gone shopping again. He needed to give serious consideration to finding her a husband or he’d be in debtor’s prison before he was forty. With a sigh, he set the bill aside for his secretary to handle. The next envelope knotted his stomach as he recognized the familiar handwriting. Aunt Matilda.
With great reluctance, he opened the letter. Seconds later, he winced at his aunt’s announcement that she and his sisters would be returning to London sooner than expected. He thought he had another two months before she barreled through the front door intent on seeing him married off to one of the American heiresses so popular with the Prince of Wales.
Sebastian tossed the letter down onto the desk with a weary groan and slouched backward in his chair once more. There had to be some way to keep his aunt from hounding him on the subject of marriage. Of all the women he’d ever met, Aunt Matilda was the most logical and serene of creatures. She should understand his reasons for not marrying. He grimaced. She’d understand, but it wouldn’t stop her from parading potential brides in front of him.
Perhaps a lengthy stay on the continent would give him some respite from her badgering. No, that wouldn’t work. There’d be no one to ensure his siblings didn’t get into trouble during his absence. And knowing Aunt Matilda, she’d have a bride waiting for him at the dock the moment he returned. He frowned.
If there was any woman in the world who could manipulate him, it was Aunt Matilda. She could do so without him even recognizing it until it was too late. Whatever he intended to do to ward off her matchmaking schemes, he needed to do it quickly. The soft click of the library door opening jerked his head up.
She was here.
“Miss Rivenall, your lordship,” the maid announced.
Inhaling a deep breath, Sebastian rose from his chair, but remained silent as Helen entered the room. The blue dress she wore accented her curvaceous figure and full breasts. The memory of a dusky rose nipple made him dig his fingers into his palms. He had one of two choices. He could find somewhere else for Helen to live or he needed to find himself a mistress—quickly. One or the other. No, that wasn’t quite true. He had a third choice—but he wasn’t Templeton.
Content to watch her approach in silence, he noted the amazement flitting across her face as she studied the books lining the walls. Preoccupied with the shelves stocked with all manner of literature, she walked toward the fireplace as she surveyed the room. As he watched her, Sebastian noted the way her hand caressed the leather binding of a book on top of a stack he’d let pile up on a nearby table. The sudden overwhelming desire for that hand to touch him in the same way made him stiffen and clear his throat.
“Since you’re walking, I can assume the sweet vitriol has worn off, or are you still unable to speak?”
Helen immediately jerked around to face him, and he grimaced at the immediate regret he experienced. Determined to regain his self-control, Sebastian reached for the pocket watch he always carried. He barely glanced at it before he snapped it shut and tucked it back into his waistcoat. Sebastian’s gaze returned to Helen’s face as he studied her for a long moment.
She was tall for a woman, but even from where he stood, he knew he towered over her by at least a foot. Helen’s gaze swept over him, and he could see the appraisal in her eyes. Suddenly uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of such a detailed assessment, Sebastian arched an eyebrow at her. Helen immediately blushed as color darkened her cheeks. She looked adorable. He was a fool. Muscles pulled painfully tight in his face, he struggled to keep his expression from revealing his thoughts.
“Is the drug still affecting your tongue?” Sebastian tried not to wince at the harshness of his tone. Anger flashed in her blue eyes before she averted her gaze
“I am fully capable of speech this morning, my lord.”
“Excellent. Last night, our conversation was a bit one-sided, but I did manage to learn that your given name is Helen, and from the maid’s announcement a few moments ago, I gather your last name is Rivenall.”
He rounded the desk and walked toward her. The moment she took a quick step backward, he came to an abrupt halt. Damnation, he didn’t mean to scare the woman. But then considering what she’d been through could he really expect her not to be a little afraid? The only thing she knew about him was that he’d bought her in an auction and brought her home with him. Not a good way to build trust. Helen’s eyed him warily, her expression wavering between her desire to keep her distance and something else.
“My lord, I must know what you’ve done about Edward.” The frantic note in Helen’s voice that made Sebastian frown.
“Edward?”
“My brother. Edward. I was hoping you’d secured his freedom from Madame Chantrel just as you did me.”
“Since I didn’t even know you had a brother until this moment, how in the blue blazes could I do anything?” Exasperation edged Sebastian’s tension up another notch. What the hell had he gotten himself into? The last thing he needed was for Melton House to become a home for foundlings.
“But last night…in the carriage. I said Edward’s name. It’s one of the few things I do remember.”
“I can assure you, Miss Rivenall, no sane person would have been able to interpret the name Edward out of that garbled noise you made.” Indignation made his answer sharper than he intended, and for a second time regret surged through him as she flinched.
“I can’t leave him there,” she murmured as if speaking her thoughts out loud. “I have to go back for him.”
“That’s one thing you won’t do.” His command made her lift her head in a clear gesture of defiance. Gone was the demure woman who’d entered the library. In her place was a woman filled with determination. He held back a groan. Helen’s expression was a familiar one. Whenever one of his sisters stubbornly refused to give way, he knew a battle was at hand.
“I refuse to leave my brother in the hands of that woman,” she snapped.
“Miss Rivenall, your freedom cost me two thousand pounds last night, and I have no desire to pay for your freedom a second time. You will not go back to that brothel.”
“Two thousand pounds?” Helen stared up at him in shock.
“Yes,” Sebastian bit out with irritation. The woman had no comprehension of the danger she’d be putting herself into if she tried to go back to Chantrel’s for her brother.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.
“A thank you will do for the moment,” Sebastian said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he contemplated this newest development. In the next instant, his entire body tightened with awareness as Helen closed the distance between them to clutch at his arm.
“Please, I can’t leave my brother there. He’s not quite twelve and if Chantrel…he’s just a boy.”
Her face pale with fear, the pleading look on her lovely features tugged at him to pull her close and reassure her that everything would be all right. He crushed the urge, while his aggravation at his irrational behavior was growing by the second. If he continued in this vein, his prized self-control would be in
shambles, and he refused to let that happen.
“Perhaps you should have been more careful in the selection of your friends.” The hard note in his voice made her jerk away from him.
“Friends,” she spat with vehemence. “That woman wasn’t my friend. She lied to me. She promised me employment and that Edward could stay with me.”
“And yet you trusted her,” he said quietly, and her anger immediately dissolved into despair as she looked away from him.
“Desperation leads one to trust others where in different circumstances that trust would not be so easily given,” she murmured.
“Clearly in this case you should have thought more deeply on the issue.” He clenched his teeth at the pompous sound of his voice.
“Please. I have nowhere else to turn. I can’t leave him there.”
Sebastian closed his eyes for a second at the helpless note running beneath her request. She’d been through hell, and he wasn’t helping things by making her beg for his help. People made mistakes. He knew that from the wild antics of his younger siblings, all of whom were constantly coming to him with this difficulty or that.
Caleb was his latest challenge in problem solving. Based on Helen’s explanations, everything Caleb’s sweetheart had suspected seemed to be true. Chantrel was undoubtedly tricking young women into thinking they would find gainful employment with her. Only when they were at Chantrel’s mercy inside the brothel did the women understand what was really expected of them.
Perhaps it would be a good thing if McBride didn’t answer Sebastian’s summons until later in the day. If he wanted to get the girl and boy out of Chantrel’s grasp, the inspector’s presence might hinder things when it came to coming to an arrangement with the brothel madame.
Somehow, he didn’t think Chantrel would part with Georgina or Edward without expecting something in exchange. And McBride could hardly standby when Sebastian paid off the brothel owner. Without McBride present, he could easily report Chantrel for her illegal activities after he’d resolved his current dilemma. Still that didn’t solve the problem of how to stage a rescue.
It would be easy to enter the brothel. The difficult part would be forcing Chantrel to give up the boy and Caleb’s sweetheart. Based on the footmen he’d seen last night at the auction, it could prove to be a sizeable problem. Still, he wasn’t about to stand aside and let the brothel owner do as she liked. With a slight shake of his head, he turned around and strode back to his desk.
“It seems I have little choice but to see to the boy’s rescue,” he muttered as he kept his gaze firmly on the top of his desk. He didn’t want to see the relief and gratitude on her face.
“Thank you. I don’t know how, but I will find a way to repay you,” she said fervently. “I promise you that.”
Sebastian nodded as his fingers toyed with the letter from his aunt. Another problem to solve after he arranged for Georgina and Edward’s release. If he could find a way to distract Aunt Matilda…his head snapped up as he fixed his gaze on Helen. It might just work. She was lovely enough, and she was clearly gently bred. Surely, he could make her into a fashionable lady before his aunt arrived from Scotland. The grateful expression on her face changed to one of puzzlement. He immediately focused his attention on the papers on his desk.
“Naturally, I’ll require your agreement to my proposition before I rescue the boy.” Sebastian raised his head, and the moment he saw her expression he clenched his jaw at his callous statement. When in the hell had he become such a bastard?
Chapter 4
October 1897
The moment the earl flung the coolly worded statement into the air, Helen stiffened. Proposition? What a fool she was. Of course, there’d be a price to pay for Edward’s freedom, as well as hers. Rigid with awareness, Helen struggled with the knowledge that no matter what the earl’s proposition, she would have little choice but to accept his terms. Edward’s well-being, even his life, was at stake. Struggling to gather her courage and accept whatever his terms might be, Helen studied him for a long moment.
The breadth of his shoulders reminded her how easily he’d carried her last night. It emphasized the fact that he could bend her to his will whenever he liked. She pushed the thought aside as her gaze continued to analyze his appearance. The cut of his dark blue coat and tailored trousers expressed a meticulous attention to detail, and he was clean-shaven. Unlike the current fashion, he disdained extended sideburns or a mustache.
Everything about him said he was his own man and answered to no one. Even the dark, angular planes of his face accentuated the strength and power he exuded. Helen’s gaze lifted to stare into eyes the color of polished onyx. A flash of emotion crossed his face. For the briefest of moments, she could have sworn it was regret. The earl shifted his posture slightly. He looked almost uncomfortable, and he looked away from her.
For the first time she noted how his thick chestnut hair was slightly ruffled, and it threw his otherwise immaculate appearance off balance. It made him seem more approachable. The unexpected urge to move forward to smooth the tousled locks with her fingers sent a ripple of alarm through her. The man had just expressed his desire that she give herself to him in exchange for Edward’s freedom. Helen flinched at the thought. She could hardly refuse him.
Perhaps the experience might even be pleasurable. Helen’s throat went dry at the thought. He didn’t revolt her as Cousin Albert did. If anything, the thought of the earl touching her sent small ripples of excitement through her. She flinched. Her uncle was right. She truly was a harlot. She tilted her head in a defiant manner and directed a cold glare at the man. Sacrificing her principles was a small price to pay for her brother’s safe return.
“If becoming your mistress is the price of my brother’s safe return, I’ll do so gladly.”
“Damnation.” The word exploded in the air between them as his brow furrowed with irritation. “That’s not what I meant.”
Accustomed to her uncle’s explosive temper, Helen had learned a long time ago to compose her responses in as conciliatory manner possible. It was only painful when she lost control of her tongue. While she doubted the earl would strike her, she needed his help, and she had no wish to anger him.
“Forgive me for misunderstanding,” she murmured. “Perhaps you should explain precisely what it is you wish me to do.”
“I am in need of a…a fiancée.”
“I beg your pardon?” Helen stared at him in amazement. The furrow in his brow deepened.
“Christ Jesus, I’m not explaining this well.”
“No, you are not,” she said with exasperation as she watched him drum his fingers on the envelope he was staring at. A second later, he shoved a hand through his hair and blew out a sharp breath.
“It would seem, Miss Rivenall that we are in need of each other’s assistance. You need me to secure your brother’s freedom, and I—I need your help convincing my aunt that I am no longer in the marriage mart.”
“No longer in the marriage mart?” Completely bewildered, Helen found herself repeating his words.
“Yes,” he said tersely. “I am quite content with my life the way it is, but my aunt has taken exception to my decision. She’s taken it upon herself to find me a wife.”
“I see. And you want me to pretend to be your betrothed.”
“Precisely.” Satisfaction lightened his dark features. “It would only be for a short time of course. Once my aunt returns to Scotland, you can break with me and I’ll be free of her meddling for at least another year.”
“You are quite serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Quite.” His simple response made Helen dismiss his idea with a derisive sniff.
“I would be exposed as an imposter the moment your aunt took one look at me,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’ve no social skills to speak of other than those I learned as a child, and even if Madame Chantrel returned my clothing, they’d hardly be suitable for what you’re proposing.
“Those thing
s are easily corrected,” he said with a wave of his hand before he circled his desk and moved toward her. “Louisa or I can help you learn the skills you’ll need, and I’ll provide you with a new wardrobe.”
“You’re mad.”
“No, I’m desperate.” His response made Helen stiffen with indignation. Her social status might be beneath his, but it didn’t make his words any less palatable.
“How fortunate for you that I happened to be available,” she said with acrimony. He had the good taste to look chastened for a long moment before he narrowed his gaze at her.
“And how fortunate for you that it was me who secured your freedom last night. Any other man would be asking far more of you at this moment.”
A chill spread its way over her skin. He was right. She’d made a terrible mistake leaving Mayfield without better planning. She should have made inquiries through the vicar or even the Brown sisters. But she’d not trusted them. Helen bit her lip at the contradiction of her actions. She’d not trusted people she knew, but she had trusted a stranger.
Uncle Warren had always said she’d fall into sin because of her unrepentant manner. In trusting Chantrel, she’d almost fulfilled her uncle’s prediction. She’d acted rashly, and she bitterly regretted. That she’d dragged her brother into this mess illustrated she was simply reinforcing Uncle Warren’s low opinion of her.
If not for the earl, her situation would be even more desperate than it already was. Helen swallowed the knot swelling in her throat as her gaze met a pair of onyx eyes. For a moment, she thought she saw his lips twist in a rueful manner before he pulled his watch out of his coat pocket to check the time. His dismissive manner made her straighten her shoulders.
“Since you leave me little choice, I agree to your proposal,” she snapped. “But only if you return my brother safely to me. Anything less will nullify our agreement.”
With a quick movement, he snapped his pocket watch closed with one hand. Triumph gleamed in his charcoal eyes as he shoved the watch back into his waistcoat pocket and met her gaze. He arched one eyebrow at her, and Helen could feel the flush of heat filling her cheeks. Helen lifted her chin in a defiant manner.
