Richard’s eyelids drooped and a slight frown sifted across his brow, as he did his utmost to unravel the confusion within his brain. Then, suddenly, his eyes flew open and, as they latched on to Helena’s, his lips began to curve in a slow seductive smile.
‘I remember that there was a distinct smell of violets,’ he murmured softly. ‘I couldn’t seem to get it out of my mind—it was you in my bed that night, wasn’t it, dear heart?’
As her cheeks flamed for the second time, she could only nod and shyly return his smile, for she was not entirely sure exactly what he did recall of that night’s strange happenings.
Gingerly fingering his swollen abrasion, he slowly raised himself into a sitting position and then, as he gazed lovingly into her eyes, he shook his head in disbelief.
‘What a fool I am!’ he groaned. ‘To think that I actually had you there in my bed next to me and was too damned foxed to realise it!’
Lifting her hand, he pressed her fingers to his lips, saying, ‘I’ll do far better next time—you have my word!’
As Helena dropped her eyes, and blushed yet again, he let out a little chuckle and, rising to his feet, put out his hand to help her up.
‘First things first, however,’ he said, as he frowningly surveyed the damage all around him. Then, beckoning one of the men over to him, he took him to one side, in order to confirm his supposition that his cousin had, indeed, perished in the explosion.
The arrival of the doctor who, after checking the earl over, affixed a court plaster to his wound and pronounced him fit enough to carry out his normal occupations, also revealed the full extent of Standish’s wily duplicity—although Richard was no longer surprised to learn that his cousin had made no effort to contact any of the doctors after Fuller’s accident, since it was now clear that he had banked on the man dying without recovering consciousness. Hence his desperate attempt to silence the young worker for good, Helena’s interruption presumably being the catalyst that had finally tipped him over the edge into total insanity.
Although the earl could not help but feel a deep sadness that his young cousin’s thinking had become so warped during his own extended absence from the family estate that he had actually been prepared to kill to ensure his own succession to the property, it was impossible for him not to cast up a prayer of thanks that all of his efforts had failed.
And now, as he looked across the hall, to where Helena was already engaged in the business of directing the clearing-up operations, he felt his heart swelling with so much love that it seemed it might almost burst and he swore that never again would he allow anything to come between him and his beloved angel.
As she lay curled up in her husband’s arms that night, Helena was filled with a deep and drowsy contentment, coupled with an absolute certainty that Richard’s love for her was as real and true as hers was for him. Having heard the full story of Charles Standish’s treachery she, too, had been sickened to learn that the young man for whom she had begun to develop quite a fondness had turned out to be such a treacherous fraud and, whilst she was deeply sorry that he had gone so far as to take his own life, she could not help but feel profoundly thankful that he had been the one to die and not her beloved Richard.
Raising her head, she pressed a teasing kiss against her husband’s throat, causing him to tighten his hold and hurriedly capture her lips with his own. But then, as he felt himself being swept up in yet another current of breathless exhilaration, he reluctantly drew away from her and, mindful of the rapidly approaching daylight, murmured, ‘You really need to get some sleep now, my love—we have a full day’s work ahead of us, remember.’
‘A good many full days, it would seem,’ she replied with a soft laugh, as she snuggled even closer to him. ‘And, if tonight’s performance is anything to go by, a good many full nights, too, I would imagine!’
‘You tempting little minx,’ he growled huskily, pulling her swiftly into his arms once more. ‘Who would have thought that an angel would be so very accommodating!’
Epilogue
Almost a year to the day of the explosion the Earl and Countess of Markfield decided to hold a celebratory ball. The renovations to the Hall were now complete and to commemorate this happy event—in addition to the happy event who lay sleeping peacefully in his cradle in the newly furbished nursery wing—the idea of so grand a celebration seemed entirely appropriate.
Thanks to Helena’s prompt intervention, Ben Fuller had survived his injury, the rapidly fading scar on his left brow being the only reminder of that dreadful time. Having managed to persuade his old master, Hector Tobias, to come down from Leicestershire to examine the Hall’s damaged panelling, it seemed that the elderly woodcutter could hardly wait to get down to work and restore it to its original magnificence, adding insets of his own exemplary carving, in those cases where the damage was too far gone to repair. In addition, after seeing some examples of his ex-apprentice’s work, he had agreed to take Fuller back on again—on condition that he didn’t decide to go off and join another war!
Several of the other men, Rueben Corrigan amongst them, having managed to save much of the generous wage that Helena had allotted them, had opted to go back and seek employment in their own home towns—Richard having assured them that should they be unsuccessful in their search, he would always be glad to find work for them on the estate.
Bet and Cissie, along with the other females who had come from Chelsea, had been happy to remain at Markfield, working either in the kitchens or the laundry room—although Cissie, who seemed to have developed a certain affinity with the dairy herd, had elected to become a milkmaid!
As soon as the earl had deemed it suitable to move himself and his family into the grander quarters of Markfield Hall, Helena had taken advantage of Westpark’s lack of tenancy to finally persuade her father to quit his London residence and retire to the countryside. And so, under the doughty Mrs Wainwright’s care, there he had ensconced himself and was often to be seen casting a line into the little river that ran between the two properties or merely sitting and smiling his contentment, as he watched the passing wildfowl at play.
Southpark, once Charles Standish’s property, had also become vacant, due to his mother, Mrs Adelaide Standish—gladly accepting her nephew’s kindly offer to provide her with a generous annuity—having chosen to spend the rest of her days in the company of her widowed sister in Bath. The redecoration of the house having met with Lady Isobel’s approval, it had been agreed that it should be kept for her future use, should she ever feel the need to remove herself from Standish House.
Richard’s stud farm had grown into a thriving enterprise, much as it had been in his grandfather’s day, and his racing thoroughbreds had succeeded in winning many a useful purse throughout the past year, helping to fill both the estate’s coffers and the earl’s pockets alike—a source of great satisfaction to Richard, since it made him more or less independent of his wife’s unstinting generosity—this having proved to have been the only sticking point in what had become an otherwise perfect marriage.
Possibly the most unexpected development that had occurred as a result of Helena’s leaving London, however, had been one that had caused her an occasional moment of deep mortification, it having turned out that Thomas Redfern’s numerous visits to Cadogan Place had been on behalf of her cousin Lottie and not herself, as she had, at the time, supposed! It appeared that the doughty doctor had decided that the vicar’s daughter possessed all the necessary qualifications to make him the most excellent of wives. Giles Wheatley, on being informed of this happy news, had immediately made over the lease of his London house to the young couple, in addition to providing his overjoyed niece with a handsome dowry.
And so, as, with a smile of deep satisfaction on his face, the earl led his wife out across the floor for the first dance of the evening and the great hall rang once again with the happy sound of music and the appreciative murmurings of the one-hundred-and-twenty guests who looked on with such approval, he co
uld hardly wait to draw his countess into his arms to whisper into her ear how utterly ravishing she looked in her ball gown of white silk and silver gauze; how extremely proud he was of her and—most importantly of all—how very deeply he loved and adored his dearest angel of a wife.
Helena, for her part, had never been as happy as she was at that moment and, as she raised her glowing eyes to meet her husband’s ardent gaze, she felt bound to admit that the contract that her father had drawn up had not been such a bad idea after all—despite the fact that the earl had never got round to signing it!
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4482-9
A MARRIAGEABLE MISS
Copyright © 2009 by Dorothy Elbury.
First North American Publication 2009.
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