by Sandra Heath
Some rhododendrons tumbled down to the water’s edge in a riot of crimson, mauve, and white, and the path curved between them, sheering from the water for a moment as the land rose slightly. Helen followed the path and glanced back, seeing to her satisfaction that the view from the jetty was cut off by the rhododendrons. Taking a deep breath, she left the path and walked to the side of the lake, beginning to toss the crumbs, which were immediately spied by the watchful ducks. Fluttering and quacking, they milled around on the water, snatching up every morsel.
It was a pleasant pastime, one she hadn’t indulged in since a child at home in Worcestershire, and it held her attention so fully that she didn’t hear the horseman approaching along the path. She knew nothing as he reined in and looked toward her; indeed, the first intimation she had that she was no longer alone was when he suddenly spoke to her.
‘So, we meet again, Mrs Brown.’
With a gasp she whirled about and found herself looking into the inviting blue eyes of Adam, Lord Drummond of Wintervale.
CHAPTER 9
Shocked at seeing him again so unexpectedly, she dropped the bag of crumbs and stared at him.
His large bay horse was restive, but he controlled it with consummate ease. He wore a navy blue riding coat, a silver-gray waistcoat, and beige cord breeches, and there were spurs at the heels of his highly polished riding boots. A gold pin gleamed in the folds of his muslin neckcloth, and a signet ring shone on his finger as he removed his top hat.
Still she stared, so startled she couldn’t think of anything to say. After a moment he gave a wry smile, glancing around as if half-expecting to see someone else with her. ‘Forgive me if my appearance on the scene has caused you embarrassment. I take it your silence signifies a wish to forget we are known to each other?’
‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly, ‘please don’t think that. I was just caught off guard by seeing you again so unexpectedly.’
‘That much is obvious,’ he murmured, dismounting and leading his horse to one of the rhododendrons, tethering it firmly. Resting his top hat on the pommel of the saddle, he came toward her. ‘I’m relieved that we do still know each other, Mrs Brown, for I’d hate to think I was already a thing of your past.’
He’d never be a thing of her past, she thought, conscious of how her heart quickened with each step he took. She had to say something, but what? ‘Did – did you keep your London appointment, my lord?’
‘I did. War Office affairs can now continue smoothly on their way again.’
‘How much worse is the situation in Europe now?’
‘Bonaparte’s doing his damnedest.’
‘I’m sure he is, it’s the nature of the beast.’
‘He’ll come a final cropper very soon, you may be sure.’
‘But are you sure, my lord?’ she asked, endeavoring to hide how much he affected her just by being close, and wondering how best to grasp the nettle of telling him the truth about herself.
He smiled. ‘You want my opinion as a denizen of the War Office?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m very sure, Mrs Brown. I’m also sure that I don’t wish to discuss the Corsican, I’d much prefer to talk about you.’
Color leapt to her cheeks. ‘I’m not very interesting, my lord.’
‘But I find you fascinating, Mrs Brown, so much so that I’ve come to Windsor straightaway simply in the hope of meeting you again, and yet I don’t even know your first name.’
She could hardly believe what he was saying. ‘My name is Helen,’ she whispered.
‘Fair Helen,’ he murmured. ‘You already know that mine is Adam.’
‘Yes.’ She was held captive by his eyes; surely the owner of such eyes couldn’t be guilty of dishonesty.
Something must have crossed her face, for his gaze became penetrating. ‘You’d make a very poor poker player, Helen Brown, for I can tell that you’ve been regaled with the whole sorry tale of Prince Agamemnon.’
She looked away. ‘Yes, I have heard, but I don’t believe it. You wouldn’t do anything like that.’
‘You hardly know me.’
She found herself smiling at him, drowning in his eyes. ‘I know you enough,’ she whispered. ‘There’s something I have to say to you, something very important about me….’
She said nothing more, for at that moment there was a disturbance as a group of small boys ran noisily along the path, startling the horse. Adam turned sharply, leaving her to go and soothe the frightened animal, which was rearing and straining at the reins. Helen watched anxiously, her dismay at having been cut off at the very moment of confession being swiftly replaced by fear for his safety as the horse continued to rear.
Something, she didn’t know what, made her suddenly glance in the direction of the jetty. A break in the leaves afforded a perfect view; Ralph was approaching! In a moment or so he’d come around the path and see her with Adam. What could she do? Not only were the men now enemies, but one knew her as Mrs Helen Brown, the other as Miss Helen Fairmead. If only she’d managed to tell Adam the truth, but it was too late now. Panic seized her as she cast desperately around for an escape, but the bushes swept right to the water’s edge, and to get away she’d have to pass Adam, and certainly would be seen by Ralph.
Adam’s back was still toward her as he soothed the horse, which was quieter now. Her glance suddenly fell on one of the rhododendrons, which was actually one shrub in front of another, and behind it there was a place to hide. Without further ado, she gathered her skirts and ran toward it, slipping out of sight just as Adam calmed the horse and turned back to where she’d been.
‘It’s all right now,’ he said. ‘What was it you wished to…?’ He broke off in surprise, for she was nowhere to be seen.
Gently she held a branch aside, and she saw Ralph appear on the path. Adam turned sharply toward him, and Ralph’s steps faltered as he found himself facing not Helen, but the man he’d exposed the year before as a low and shabby cheat.
Adam folded his arms, looking contemptuously at him. ‘Well, well, if it isn’t my old friend Ralph. How very unfortunate for you that you failed to see me in time, otherwise I’ve no doubt I’d once again have been treated to a show of your elegant heels.’
‘I’ve never shrunk from facing you, Drummond.’
‘Your capacity for glib untruths never ceases to astound me.’
‘If anyone should know about shrinking from facing others, Drummond, that person is you.’ A sneer crept into Ralph’s voice as he began to recover a little from his initial shock.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’d like everyone to believe in my guilt, St John, but I’m afraid you haven’t succeeded as much as you’d hoped. Your manufactured evidence may have fooled some, the Bournes in particular, but it didn’t fool those who really matter to me, the friends I set real store by.’
Helen’s lips parted in amazement. Manufactured evidence? Ralph had plotted it all, not caring that he’d come close to ruining Gregory’s racing interests as well as Adam’s honor? But why? Why had he done it? She peered from behind the bush, seeing Ralph’s face quite clearly, for he was turned toward her. He was a different man now, cold, contemptuous, and full of loathing, and there was no trace at all of his former superficial charm. She’d been so right to dislike him on sight, and she couldn’t understand how he’d hoodwinked Margaret and Gregory so completely.
Ralph’s lips twisted into a sly smile as he looked at Adam. ‘I set out to dishonor your name, Drummond, and I succeeded well enough.’
‘At considerable cost to your pocket. Just how much did you hand over to that worm Edney to tell his lies? Enough to set him up in America, that’s for sure, which fact must be galling you somewhat now the green baize has been so unfriendly.’
‘It was worth it, just to see your name denigrated throughout society.’
‘Hardly throughout, dear boy.’
‘It was also worth it to have you dance to my tune.’
‘Ah, yes, the little matter of blackma
il. That is the only reason your vile little act has worked, as we both know.’
‘Using your sister’s infidelity was a stroke of genius, for it meant I had you exactly where I wanted you – under my thumb.’
Helen stared. Adam’s sister was the lady he’d striven so to protect?
Adam gave a thin, dangerous smile. ‘My sister’s happiness means a great deal to me, St John, and that is the only reason I’ve allowed your damned lies about me to go unchallenged. In the end you’ll fall into your own mire, vermin always do, and I rather think I’ll be there to watch. I neither know nor care why you’ve felt driven to all this, but if it’s to have the likes of the Bournes all to yourself, you’re welcome to them, for they’ve proved as base as you. I wish you well of one another, for if ever insects nested together, it’s you three. Or is it four now? I hear you’re escorting Bourne’s sister-in-law to the dinner tomorrow, in the Prince Regent’s presence, no less. I also hear you’re expecting to marry her, and I can only conclude that she’s as shallow and contemptible as you.’
Helen listened in dismay. Whispers of the match had gone beyond Bourne End’s walls and reached Adam himself! Tears filled her eyes at the disdainful way he spoke of Margaret and Gregory, and at the abhorrence he felt for Helen Fairmead. Would she ever be able to confess the truth now?
Ralph was goaded. ‘You think you’re so superior, don’t you? Drummond of Wintervale, the man who has everything – except honor.’
‘My, my, how eaten up you are,’ murmured Adam coolly.
‘Why should I be eaten up about you?’
‘I don’t know, St John. You tell me. I neither know nor care why you’ve felt obliged to do all this, but I’m prepared to listen if you wish to explain. Cat got your tongue? Ah, well….’
A thousand expressions fought on Ralph’s face, and Helen saw how his fists clenched with hatred as Adam gave a derisive smile, and then went calmly to untether his horse, pausing to tap his top hat lightly into place. Ralph remained where he was as Adam mounted, turning the horse and riding slowly and deliberately toward him: Adam reined in, leaning on the pommel. ‘Do step aside, there’s a good chap.’
‘I don’t step aside for you, Drummond,’ breathed Ralph furiously.
Adam seemed to find this vaguely amusing, for a faint smile played on his lips as he made the horse walk on, brushing against Ralph’s shoulder as he passed. It was a superb display of horsemanship, controlled to the very inch, and calculated to deal as big an insult as possible, but even Adam couldn’t have foreseen the crowning moment. Unable to control his anger as the horse nudged him, Ralph whirled around to slap it fiercely on the rump, intending to make it bolt and maybe unseat Adam, but the creature chose that very opportune moment to swish its long tail, slapping him full in the face. Caught off balance, he stumbled and fell, lying there ignominiously as horse and rider vanished slowly and sedately beyond the rhododendrons.
Ralph scrambled to his feet, glancing swiftly around to see if anyone had witnessed his fall; then he brushed his elegant clothes before hurrying away, evidently intent upon continuing his search for her.
She slipped from her hiding place, gathering her skirts to run to the path, peeping along it after Ralph before hurrying in the opposite direction, back toward the jetty and Margaret.
Her thoughts were in turmoil. She’d been right to stand by Adam, for he was completely innocent – Ralph St John was the guilty party. But why had he done it, and how was she going to prove it without harming Adam’s sister? And what was Adam going to say when she at last found the moment to tell him the truth about herself, for she now knew he connected her real name very intimately with Ralph. She felt close to tears again, for it was all an impossible tangle, and she didn’t know how she was going to even begin to solve it. She didn’t even know if in the end Adam would want his name associated with hers; she was too close to Bourne End, and he despised Bourne End.
But as she rejoined Margaret, she hid the tumult within, giving a bright smile. ‘I really did enjoy feeding the ducks, it was very agreeable indeed. Where’s Mr St John?’
‘He went to look for you.’
‘Really? I can’t imagine how he failed to find me.’
Margaret looked suspiciously at her. ‘I trust you weren’t hiding from him.’
‘Why ever would I do that?’ replied Helen, as if hiding from him was the very last thing she’d ever wish to do.
Margaret eyed her for a moment, and then decided she was being honest. ‘I knew you’d soon come around,’ she said with a smile, ‘he’s too much of an angel to resist for long, isn’t he?’
Too much of an angel? Helen thought of the Ralph she’d just seen and heard; angelic was the last word to describe him. For a moment she considered facing her sister with the truth about her precious Ralph, but almost immediately the notion was discarded. Margaret simply wouldn’t believe it, and without proof there’d be no gain-saying Ralph’s inevitable denial. Besides, there was Adam’s sister to consider, and her shameful secret would certainly be in jeopardy if Ralph were to feel threatened. So it was best to leave matters as they were for the moment, but the thought of having him as an escort the following evening was quite horrid.
‘Helen? I said I knew you’d come around where Ralph was concerned,’ repeated Margaret.
‘Mm? Oh, yes. Forgive me, I was daydreaming.’
‘Ah, here’s Ralph now. We really should be getting back, I’ve so much to do in readiness for tomorrow, and you and I must have another talk concerning etiquette, for there must not be even a tiny mistake in front of the prince.’
Helen smiled, but said nothing more. She watched Ralph strolling toward them. He looked so much the epitome of masculine excellence and nonchalance that it was impossible to believe he’d taken such an indecorous tumble to the grass a short while ago; it was also impossible to believe how despicable he really was, he looked so charming and amiable. How she loathed him, and how she hoped with all her heart that she’d somehow manage to rout him completely, and win Adam in the process. But it was a very tall order, and she knew it.
There were so many difficulties where Adam was concerned, even without Ralph to consider. She’d lied to him, concealed things, misled him, and now she’d even disappeared into thin air. What he was thinking at this very moment was a matter of complete conjecture, for one second she’d been there with him, the next she’d vanished. And then there was the matter of the rumors he’d heard concerning the imminent betrothal between Ralph St John and Gregory Bourne’s sister-in-law; what would his reaction be when he learned that she was that sister-in-law? She lowered her eyes. She’d spoken with such bravado of regarding him as the only man in the world she’d ever love, but she had so much to confess that her path to happiness was so thorny as to be almost impassable.
CHAPTER 10
The dinner party for the Prince Regent was set to commence an hour after dusk, and as darkness fell the guests’ carriages began to arrive, each one escorted from the lodge gates by running footmen carrying lighted flambeaux.
In the grounds the trees had been hung with pretty variegated lanterns, and the garden paths were brightly lit with lamps. Every room in the house was illuminated, with the curtains and shutters left open so the brilliance of the occasion could be seen for miles over the Berkshire countryside. On the ground floor the French windows were open too, allowing the distinguished guests to stroll in and out as they chose. An orchestra was playing in the southern conservatory, which led off the beautifully decorated dining room, and the sweet strains of a Mozart serenade carried out into the night, where the scent of wallflowers and honeysuckle was strong and clear.
Margaret had been frantically busy all day, refusing to listen to Gregory and Helen, who implored her to calm down and take things more slowly. She waved their protests aside, pointing out that she had to supervise the preparations, make certain the kitchens had everything properly in hand, and deal with the various crises that seemed determined to arise. These c
rises were particularly vexing, ranging from the nonarrival of the specially ordered Severn salmon to the mislaying of a silver salver the Prince Regent had given to Gregory, which had to be prominently displayed. The flowers, of which there were thousands for such an occasion, required endless arranging and rearranging before she declared herself satisfied with them, although as far as Helen was concerned they’d looked as excellent in the beginning as they had after all the moving around. The despaired-of salmon arrived late in the afternoon, a trundling fishmonger’s wagon coming slowly up the drive at what seemed like a snail’s pace, and then the silver salver was discovered in a cupboard in the buttery, where it had no business being, and was put in its proper place in the entrance hall so that the Prince Regent would see it as he arrived.
All this had taken up a great deal of Margaret’s time, and it was rather late when at last she’d fled to her rooms to begin her lengthy dressing. As the guests arrived below, to be greeted by Gregory, assisted by Ralph, Helen paced nervously up and down outside her sister’s door, afraid to go down to her first important social occasion on her own. It would have been bad enough had the dinner party been a small occasion, with only a few distinguished guests, but for it to be graced by the presence of the future king and the cream of London society made her feel quite ill with apprehension. What if, in spite of Margaret’s instructions, she still did something embarrassingly gauche? What if she said the wrong thing?
She caught a glimpse of herself in a tall gilt-framed mirror. Was the Tudor gown right after all, or should she have chosen something else? The silver taffeta looked exquisite in the candlelight, and so did the jeweled lace ruff springing so stiffly from the low, square neckline. The little puffed sleeves were slashed to reveal a pale pink lining embroidered with loveknots, and the same pink peeped through the parting at the front of the skirt. Her hair was a froth of Tudor curls, and there was a diamond ornament fixed at the front, glittering against her forehead at the slightest movement. There were more diamonds in her necklace and earrings, and she carried a painted ivory fan, with a silver lace shawl over her arms. A blush of rouge prevented her from looking pale and wan, but had Mary applied a little too much? Did she look bold rather than discreetly healthy?
