A Lady Most Dangerous (Helen Foster)

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A Lady Most Dangerous (Helen Foster) Page 13

by Caroline Hanson


  She wondered what Mary would think if Helen called her “Typhoid Mary” from now on. Edward’s study smelled of gunpowder, a washed out bloodstain visible on the carpet. And the window Jonathon had left from was now closed. Edward said he’d hurt Jonathon, even bloodied him, but there was no blood on the window now. The benefit of having enthusiastic servants.

  There was also a damp patch where blood had been cleaned on another set of curtains at the far end of the room. Helen walked over, curious as to what they covered. She had to reach high up the curtain to avoid the wet fabric. Behind the curtain was a door. She opened it, surprised to see it led into the hallway.

  Alarm bells went off in her mind. Jonathon’s only goal now was to kill Helen and Mary. Which meant he had to find them. Mary was supposed to come here to meet her, and surely Jonathon would realize they wouldn’t go back to their place, not after he’d shot the duke. So, how was he going to get to them?

  Let them come to him. She hurried to the window, pushing it up and peering below into the rose bed. Mud surrounded the flower bed thanks to the constant rain they’d been having, but there was no sign of footprints.

  What if Jonathon had never left? What if he was still here, waiting for them; wandering around the duke’s huge house and waiting to kill them all? She broke into a run, bolting out the door and up the stairs, banging on Edward’s door and shouting for Amelia to open up. A startled cry sounded from within and then a thump. Helen backed up, lifting her skirts high and aimed a kick solidly at the door. She heard a crack, but it didn’t open. She kicked again, the sound of the door opening like an explosion. There was the sound of glass shattering, and she was just in time to see a vase smashing into Jonathon’s head.

  Edward was sitting upright, swaying and forcing himself to his feet, wanting to protect his sister. Helen took out her gun and aimed, sighting on Jonathon and firing, hitting him square in the chest.

  He didn’t go down but turned on her, blood soaking his coat, his eyes wide and feral. He snarled at her and charged. Helen cocked the gun, fired again, hitting him in the stomach. He collapsed to his knees and looked up at her with an expression of betrayal, wrapping his arms around his middle.

  “You can’t have everything, Helen. Not…your life and his….” He stopped talking, his body shuddering in a terrible convulsion as he died. Edward was standing, had made it around the bed, blood soaking through the dressing. She and Amelia jumped into action, forcing him back to bed, Amelia giving him a drink of laudanum while Helen and the butler lifted the body and put it in a slipper tub, a bathtub that looked almost like a large metal shoe and required one to sit upright inside of it.

  Somewhere in the midst of drugging Edward to get him back to sleep and moving the body, Mary finally arrived. Helen filled her in and Mary took the news with her typical underwhelmed stoicism, her response of “So much for the mission,” making Helen roll her eyes. Helen went back up to Edward’s room and sat by his bedside watching him sleep.

  His fever raged; his face flushed. It was hard to get him to drink enough water, and sometimes he’d wake up in a strange delirium talking about water. Amelia and Lucy believed that all of his fever-induced ramblings about drowning related to his thirst and the fever, but Helen knew better. He’d told her that her death would be the defining moment of his life, and she hadn’t known if she believed him or not.

  She thought that maybe he’d be sad for a little bit, but then he would go on with his life and not mourn her anymore. Maybe there was a part of her that thought she was expendable, just like the military did. But after sitting next to him for hours and hours, watching him in his nightmares and hearing him call for her, she realized that he did love her. He loved her, he needed her, and the truth was there was no reason to stay away from him. If he still wanted her to stay with him, she would. I’ll be the other woman. Tears squeezed out of her eyes. Who cared? Right now, she didn’t. She just wanted him to live, and if he did, she would take him any way she could get him.

  Edward’s fever broke two days later; he slept deeply, and his shoulder was on the mend. It was that afternoon that Katherine showed up, playing the devoted fiancée. She opened the door to Edward’s room, a frown on her face as she looked at Helen, who, after several days of not wanting to leave Edward’s side, looked like hell. She motioned for Helen to come into the hallway.

  Helen stood before Katherine, surprised to see that the woman was several inches shorter than she was. Her waist was impossibly tiny, her blonde hair shone and was put back in an intricate style. This was the sort of woman who made other women feel inadequate, Helen decided. Even if they didn’t mean to, they had their shit so together and seemed so damned judgmental, that one couldn’t help but feel gawkish around them.

  “Now that he is better, it’s time for you to go. You will want to leave out the servant’s entrance in the back so no one sees you. And you will never come here again, do you understand? That’s my fiancée; the man I’m going to marry. I will be here every morning and every afternoon to nurse him back to health. The papers will talk about how devoted I am, how kind. And when he’s better…the moment he’s better, we will get married. And then we’re going to go away, to the Continent. To travel and meet people,” her hand went to her stomach in a maternal way. “When we come back in six months, maybe a year, I’ll be expecting our first child, the heir to the dukedom, and Edward will be so pleased he will give me anything I want.” Her eyes blazed with cold fire. “And I want you gone. Save yourself the trouble and consider this a kindness—get another protector.”

  Her piece said she walked around Helen and into Edward’s room, expecting Helen to follow her orders blindly.

  The bitch. Helen went back into the room slowly, a million responses running through her mind. She slowly followed Katherine back into the room, because there was no way in hell she was going to do what the ice princess told her to and was surprised to see that Edward was awake and sitting up.

  Katherine was talking to him, saying something about lace or flowers, Helen didn’t know; all she knew was that Edward was awake, that he was going to survive. And that his fiancée wanted her gone. She took a step back towards the door, prepared to leave them alone when Edward spoke over Katherine. “Helen, what do you have in your pockets?”

  “What?” she asked, confused and voice trembling with emotion – elation that he was alive, and grief that she might be losing him so quickly.

  “You heard me. Take everything out of your pockets. What’s in there?” She moved closer and pulled out her keys, some money, her revolver and a handkerchief. It was his actually, and she shot him a glance as she put it back in her pocket, not wanting him to see it.

  He arched a brow at her. “Give me the keys and the money, please.”

  “What? Why?”

  He made a tsking noise and lifted his arm, hissing at the pain as he did so. She leapt into motion, giving him her keys and money, and he said, “I may make it a habit of getting shot if you will always be this biddable. Now, leave for just a moment while I speak to Katherine. Please”

  “I should go,” Helen said. “I have to go home and change and….”

  “I thought you’d say that.”

  Realization dawned. “That’s why you took my keys! That’s not fair!” she said, sputtering angrily.

  “I’ll deal with you in a moment. Now please, please let me speak to Katherine and be here when I’m finished. Can you do that?”

  “Only because you asked nicely,” Helen said, determined to have the last word. She stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

  Ten minutes later Katherine came out, ignoring Helen completely and giving no clue as to what they had talked about.

  “Miss Foster,” he called and she went in, not wanting to hear whatever he was going to say.

  “You’re bloodied, couldn’t fight a fruit fly, pale as all get-out and yet you’re still commanding everyone around you. I feel like I’m being hauled in front of you because I’m in t
rouble.”

  An unreadable expression crossed his face. “Sometimes I think you don’t know me at all.”

  “I know the best bits,” she found herself saying.

  He barked out a laugh. “Ow. Don’t be amusing.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling a pang of sympathy go through her.

  “Don’t apologize either.”

  “Maybe you should just stop telling me what to do.”

  He studied her for a moment. “You’re right. My engagement is over.”

  She gasped. “You can’t!”

  “I can and I did. It’s done. Even if you leave me and I never see you again, I won’t marry her. Jonathon gave me a list of the things I needed to do, and I will do them. I will try to stick to the timeline as far as he’s given it to me, but…”

  She took a step closer, “But what?”

  A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “I make decisions because I believe in them, because I do care for the people under my protection. For my sister, for my tenants, even for the people of England when I’m in the House of Lords. I do try, Helen.”

  She moved closer to him. “I know you do,” she said softly. “You’ve saved my life too, you know.”

  “Don’t leave, Helen. At least not until I am well. If you’re going to go away, I can’t stop you. And I won’t. But I would ask you to at least give us this time, together.”

  “Edward,” she whispered, and she didn’t know what to say.

  “Come here. Come lie with me while I recover from being shot on your behalf.”

  “That’s a low blow.”

  “It’s a high blow. Shoulder height, in fact,” he smiled, “but I will use any means, fair or foul, to get you into bed. Even if it is only for sleeping.”

  She moved around the bed and climbed onto it, settling next to him, putting her head on his good shoulder while he wrapped an arm around her and made a noise of contentment that rumbled through her body. She closed her eyes and felt a relief so immense that tears burned her eyes. He kissed the top of her head, running his fingers over her hair, trying to soothe her.

  “You almost died,” she said, and cried in earnest.

  “Helen, I have no desire to go on living if you’re not with me. I will always try to protect you, even if I’m not as qualified to do so as you are. I love you, Helen Foster. Now go to sleep and stop crying all over me. It’s the worst bath I’ve ever had.”

  She snorted in laughter. “I love you, Edward,” she said, determined to say it once.

  “I know you do. Now go to sleep.” He closed his eyes and gave her a squeeze.

  “I love you too, Miss Foster.” In moments, he was asleep, his breathing even, heartbeat strong. She loved him. More than anything, she thought, and she fell asleep too.

  Epilogue

  Two months later.

  The carriage rolled up the long graveled drive to the duke’s home in the country, the entire staff waiting for them in the driveway, eager to see the duke and meet the common American who’d become his wife as well as the scandal of the season.

  “Welcome to the ancestral pile,” Edward said and stepped down, then took Helen’s hand, helping her down the steps with a devoted half smile on his face. His hair was ruthlessly styled again, every curl tamed to perfection, his clothes exquisitely fitted to his tall, graceful form. Helen took a deep breath of the fresh country air and promptly dashed behind the carriage to throw up in the grass.

  After a minute of retching and feeling embarrassed, Helen opened her eyes to see Edward standing before her with a handkerchief, and the housekeeper on her other side, holding out a cup of tea that she had rather miraculously made appear. “Don’t look so smug,” Helen said to Edward.

  “Me? Never. Why should I be obnoxiously happy? Because the woman of my dreams and nightmares consented to be my wife, and no longer tries to run away from me at every opportunity? Because it’s now clear to everyone that you’re carrying our child?”

  Mary came around the carriage, interrupting Edward to ask, “Who’s the hot dude with brown hair? Your height, undoubtedly a monster in the sack?”

  “You don’t know that!” Helen said.

  “No, but I’m going to find out.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Edward grumbled and peered around the carriage, looking down the line of staff until he found the man Mary was referring to. “That’s Robert. We grew up together. He manages the estate while I’m away. Nice chap. Too nice for you, I imagine.”

  “I can be nice!” Mary said. “Is he single?”

  “He is but….” Edward let the sentence trail off. Mary smacked him on the arm. “What? Is he gay? Was he involved in some kind of freak accident that left him unable to do the deed?”

  “Mary!” Helen said, trying to sound annoyed rather than amused.

  Edward answered seriously. “No…not that I’m aware of. Funnily enough, we have never discussed whether or not he’s incapable of performing. What I was going to say was that he’s allergic to cats. And I’d been led to believe that cats figured quite strongly with your future plans.”

  “No, that was never my dream to be a crazy cat lady. That was all Helen.”

  “I didn’t want to be a crazy cat lady! There just didn’t seem to be any other option.”

  “Fortunately for you, there was,” Edward said, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt under his black superfine jacket.

  “You’re right, you’re much better than a cat.”

  “I’m much better than several cats,” he quipped, and Helen squealed in delight when he scooped her up into his arms and carried her home.

  THE END

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  Contents

  Title page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

 

 

 


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