“Move away from the desk and put your hands in the air,” Peyton growled.
Both heads turned toward them. “Mon Dieu! Who the devil is this?” The man’s menacing face looked almost ghoulish in the shadowy room.
“I didn’t expect you to bother with us, Lord Peyton. Not with you and Lady Helen busily carrying on a treat.”
Rage replaced her fear with a burning desire to confront the woman. Heedless of Jason’s instruction, Helen flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder and abandoned the hiding place. “How careless of you to make that assumption, Mrs. Chance.”
“Helen, raise Jeremy and send him for a constable,” Peyton said. “And while we are waiting for the Watch, you two can enlighten me about your nasty little scheme.”
Reassured by his imperturbable tone, Helen rushed to fling open the library door, closing it swiftly behind her. She was about to flee along the corridor when the flickering candlelight beneath the library door was suddenly extinguished.
A shot rang out.
***
Jason wasn’t confident his shot found its mark in the dark. When the candle had gone out, a knife had whizzed past him, too close for comfort, and thwacked into the bookshelves behind him. He’d got off the shot before diving behind a chair. Crouching, he pulled out the knife he carried in his boot, cursing under his breath at not foreseeing the Frenchman’s action. Helen must have heard the shot. For a moment, his fear that she would open the door and become a target, highlighted by the light from the corridor, brought his heart to his mouth. He couldn’t risk calling out to her now; it might bring her running. Helpless, he waited. If anything happened to her... If he lost her. Why couldn’t he have persuaded her to just stay in bed?
“Peyton?”
He slumped with relief. “Stay outside,” he ordered, not confident she would obey him.
Loud sobs emanated from the end of the room, and he knew his shot had not gone wide. Bright candlelight flooded under the door and lightened the room to gray. He rose and moved cautiously toward the desk. Locating the fallen candelabra, he lit it. The man’s prone body was spread-eagled on the floor. On her knees beside him, Mrs. Chance was patting his chest and making cooing noises.
Whirling around, Jason went to open the door. Helen’s stricken white face greeted him, a branch of candles wavering and flickering in her hand.
“I thought it was you…” she said in a choked whisper, reaching out to touch his arm where his coat was torn. “You’re hurt.” He looked down and saw blood. “I’ll fetch a salve and some bandage. Jeremy has gone for the constable.”
“I’m all right, just bring me a blanket.”
Her eyes widened. “A blanket?”
“No questions, Helen. Just do it.”
Jason returned to crouch beside the prone man. His ball had killed him instantly. Blank eyes stared sightlessly up at them.
Helen hurried in carrying the blanket.
When Jason threw it over the dead man, the housekeeper came to life. She launched herself at Jason, screeching like a banshee. He grabbed her wrists and held her until she wobbled and sank to the ground in a torrent of tears.
He hauled her over the sofa and sat her down. “Who is he?”
She sniffed. “The best man you’re ever likely to meet.”
“I doubt it. His name?”
“Pierre Valmay. My husband.”
“You’ve been working together?”
She raised wild eyes to him. “Why should I tell you?”
“Better you tell me now then undergo the less polite treatment you’ll receive at Bow Street.”
“They’ll hang me anyway,” she said bitterly.
“Who hatched this plot?”
“Pierre did.” For a moment, she looked triumphant and then slumped into despondency. “I overheard his lordship talking to Bart. He was describing his discovery and how it would be of immense value to England. When I told Pierre, he said he could sell the information to the French. And he would have, too, if you hadn’t interfered. Pierre could do anything he set his mind on.”
Jason flicked at glance at Helen. She was staring with fury at Mrs. Chance. “Why poison a harmless man like Bart?”
“We tried to persuade him to join us. With Lord Kinsey away for months, and with Bart’s knowledge of the portfolio and his ability to access it at night, it was the perfect time to recruit him. But the fool refused. Said he was going to tell his lordship when he returned. He promised not to draw Lady Kinsey into it after we threatened to hurt her and the children. But we couldn’t trust him.”
“You’re wicked!” Helen cried.
Mrs. Chance shrugged. “Bart must have realized his life was in danger, for I heard him asking Jeremy to deliver a letter to Whitehall. Then Pierre began following Bart, waiting for a chance to kill him without rousing suspicion. An opportunity to poison his tonic arose at the Lamb and Flag. Pierre paid a man to provoke Bart into a fight.” She stared up at them, and her expression became one of great cunning. “When Bart grew too ill to meet you and knew he wouldn’t live, he wrote a letter for Lord Kinsey. Hid it in his Bible. As if I wouldn’t find it!”
“We discovered the scorched remains of his letter in the fireplace,” Jason said. “You left enough to give us a vital clue.”
For a moment, her eyes burned with hatred, and then she dropped her gaze to her hands.
“You might have killed Alice, who did nothing to hurt you.” Helen’s voice was low and hard with anger.
“It was a warning,” Charlotte Chance said. “Just to get her out of the way.”
“I don’t believe you!” Helen came closer, her hands coiled into fists, her breast rising and falling with her agitated breath. “You wanted to hurt Alice because she had defied you.”
Watching with amazement and pride, Jason stepped closer in case he needed to restrain Helen should she try to hit the woman. She stared down at Mrs. Chance with intense loathing. “You deserve everything that is coming to you.”
The door opened to admit the constable.
“Most of the household will be awake. I’d best go and speak to them, but first I want to tend your wound.” Helen turned and left the room.
Several hours past dawn, Helen had managed to dress and wake Diana. The house was still in an uproar after the coroner left and the body was removed. An officer from Bow Street took Charlotte Chance away in the wagon.
At the front door, with Helen’s expertly applied bandage covering a long but shallow knife wound, Jason placed his good arm around her. “You were magnificent. Now you should go to bed. You must be exhausted.”
She turned her vivid gaze up to him, her inviting lips curling in a smile. “I’ve never felt so alive. We have avenged Bart.”
“You are right, sweetheart.”
“About what you said in the sarcophagus,” she began. “You must—”
“I meant every word.” He drew her close and planted a kiss on her mouth.
A lanky gentleman with sunburned skin paused at the gate. “This is what occurs when my back is turned?” he cried, stalking down the path.
“Papa!” Helen ran and threw her arms around him.
Brilliant blue eyes flicked from Jason’s sleeve to his face. “Lord Peyton? What are you about kissing my daughter in full view of the street?”
“We need to talk, sir,” Peyton began.
“Papa, Lord Peyton has been wonderful. He—” Helen rushed to explain.
Kinsey held up a hand. “The coach lost a wheel on the outskirts of London. I have endured a bumpy ride in a horrible reeking hackney for some hours. I require coffee and food. Where is your mother? Surely it’s too early for her to embark on one of her charity affairs?”
“No, Mama is at Walcott. Alexander has broken his leg.”
“Dear heaven, the poor boy! Can’t I leave you all alone for a few weeks?”
“I’m afraid there’s more to tell, Lord Kinsey,” Jason said.
“Please join us for breakfast, Lord Peyton.” He swept his daught
er inside.
In the breakfast room, Lord Kinsey, having disposed of a large breakfast of kidneys, bacon, and eggs, leaned back in his chair, his fingers linked over his stomach. “That’s an extraordinary story.” He shook his head. “Poor Bartholomew. I liked him very much. Intelligent and brave. He certainly didn’t deserve such a fate.”
“No, he did not.” Jason planned to tell Kinsey about his experience of Bart during the war. But that could wait.
“But, Papa, Volta has written,” Helen said. “He’s decided not to continue working with you.”
“Oh well. As to that. I’ve already come to the same conclusion, having discovered something with greater promise. I can’t wait to begin my research and shall look for a likely inventor to join me in my quest.”
“What quest, Papa?” Diana asked.
Her father waved a hand. “Flight my dear! I’ve discovered the Ancient Egyptians had some excellent notions about man being able to fly. I have brought copious notes and diagrams home with me.”
“Men will fly one day, Papa? How utterly fascinating,” Helen said. “I would really like to assist you with this new discovery, if I may?”
“I must say that surprises me, Helen.” He smiled. “I never suspected for a moment that my work would interest you.”
“But it does. I should like to accompany you on your next voyage.”
“Mm?” He patted her hand. “Would you indeed? I believe you have regained some of your spirit, my girl.” He turned to Jason. “Now, sir. You have explained your reasons for spending the night in my library more than adequately. I am extremely grateful for the outcome, if not the method employed.” He laughed. “But I imagine you found it difficult to persuade Helen to remain out of it! However, you have yet to explain your overly familiar attitude toward her, which goes well beyond the bounds of propriety.”
“I fully intend to, sir. But first, I would like to speak to Lady Helen alone,” Jason said. “If you’ll permit me.”
Looking troubled, Helen shook her head. “You have no need, Lord Peyton. There is nothing to be said.”
“I have every need.” Jason smiled at her. He wished there had been more time to do the thing properly. The ball would have been the perfect place to declare himself, having first danced her out onto the terrace, but it couldn’t be helped. Kinsey was not going to wait for that, and Jason couldn’t either. He threw caution to the winds, even while sensing it was too soon. But patience wasn’t one of his attributes. He needed to know now if Helen would become his wife.
Lord Kinsey’s warm smile encompassed them both. “It appears you have spent a great deal of time alone in each other’s company. I don’t see why a half-hour more will hurt. Please repair to the morning room. I require my library.” He stood and rubbed his hands. “Thorburn will be here soon, and there is much to be done.”
As they all trouped out of the breakfast room, Kinsey turned to Diana. “Is everything in readiness for your ball, my dear?”
Diana’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not sure, Papa. Our housekeeper has gone to prison, and Mama isn’t here.”
“I will take over the housekeeper’s duties,” Helen said. “I have no need to appear at the ball.”
“You will attend it though, daughter,” Lord Kinsey said, brooking no argument.
He put his arm around Diana’s shoulders. “Your mother will return in time, and your ball shall be the most celebrated of the Season. I only hope Alexander recovers well. A broken leg is not something to sneeze at.”
As the morning room door closed behind them, Helen turned to Jason. “I did warn that we might be compromised. But fortunately, my father is a reasonable man. I believe he likes you. So please, do not feel you have anything to reproach yourself for.”
“I’m aware of that.” Stepping close, he raised her chin with a finger when she refused to meet his gaze. “I did not wish it to be under these circumstances. I would have chosen a more romantic course, but I care for you, Helen. Will you marry me?” Her eyes were dark, troubled. He’d hoped to find some sign of acceptance and at least affection, but her anguish turned his blood to ice. This was all too soon.
She attempted to move away. “I cannot marry you, Peyton.”
He caught her, making her stay. “Are you denying there’s more than fondness between us?”
“I consider you to be a friend. I am very grateful for everything you’ve done for us.”
“You’re grateful? This is not merely a friendship. And I won’t accept your gratitude!”
He cradled her face in his hands. Swooping down, he took her mouth. This was not to be a polite kiss. He cupped the back of her head, drawing her closer. Moving his mouth over hers, he learned the shape of her soft lips, delighting in her response. His blood heated and rampaged through his veins as he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips. When she made a small sound and opened to him, he slipped inside, the sweet taste of her mouth sending his blood swirling. Helen sagged against him. When she made a sound close to a sob, her arms crept up around his neck and her fingers twined in his hair.
He murmured encouragement and kissed her throat, beneath her ear, and, with a moan, returned to ravage her mouth. When he finally drew away, he smiled into her wistful eyes. “Can you still say ours is a friendship?”
Her cheeks were rosy, and her breath came fast, but she moved away from him, her fingers working to tidy her disordered locks. “You are a very attractive man, Peyton. I admit to enjoying your kisses. But I shan’t marry you.”
He fought to cool down and released a long sigh. “Is there someone else?”
“No. I shall never marry. I plan to travel with my father. I am confident he will permit me to accompany him now.” She sounded strained.
He watched, frustrated that she held herself aloof from him. “He might. But I gained the impression he’d rather you married.”
“Papa will grow used to the idea in time. And if he doesn’t, I shall remain at Cherrywood. I would rather spend the spring there than anywhere.”
He didn’t understand her. Didn’t believe her. “You are sure this is what you want?”
Turned away from him, her voice was muffled. “Yes, it is.”
“As you wish.” He bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, there are matters at home I must attend to.”
He left her and went to the library.
Learning of Helen’s refusal, Lord Kinsey shook his head with bemusement. “I am surprised and disappointed. But her mother will handle this. We men are somewhat lacking in these matters, are we not? I hope to see you, Lady Greywood, and your brother, Charles, at the ball.”
Jason made his way to the front door. He doubted Helen would get her wish to accompany her father on his travels. Kinsey was determined she marry. Having decided Jason was the man he wanted for her, he made it plain that he had not yet given up hope.
There was something here he didn’t understand. Recalling her decided preference for his kisses, Jason wasn’t going to give up hope either.
“Your hat, Lord Peyton. The gardener found it in the shrubbery,” Fiske said politely, handing it to him at the door. “If I may speak for the staff, we are all very grateful to you, sir.”
“Thank you, Fiske.” Peyton jammed the hat on his head and strode out the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Diana opened the morning room door and peeked in, her face alive with curiosity. “Well? Did you accept him?”
Helen was sitting very still on the sofa, gazing into space. “No.”
Her sister plopped down beside her. “You didn’t? You refused that magnificent man? After he saved us all? After he declared his love for you?”
Helen stared down at her hands. “He didn’t say he loved me.”
“Did you give him a chance to?”
“There was no point. I am not going to marry him.”
“Why ever not?” Diana shook her head. “I don’t understand you at all. You never show any emotion. Don’t you want to be in love? To be loved?
Love is the most glorious sentiment on the earth!”
Afraid to answer, Helen sagged in her chair and fiddled with the braid on her sleeve.
“Do you really want to become one of those spinsters with a dozen cats?” Diana persisted. “And live at Cherrywood caring for Harry until he marries? And once he marries, knit items for your nieces and nephews? I suppose you could then take care of Toby when he is a young bachelor. Is that a life worth living?”
“Stop!” Helen leaped up, tears coursing down her cheeks. She sucked in a shaky breath. “I would very much like to be married. Married to Peyton, if you must insist on having me admit it!” She covered her eyes with her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
Diana hurried to hug her. She pulled the damp hair from Helen’s face. “Then why won’t you accept him?”
Helen drew away with a hiccup. “Because he believes me to be untouched.”
Diana gaped at her. “You’re not a virgin? When on earth did that happen? Who was it?”
Her eyes awash with tears, Diana’s image blurred. Helen gulped to relieve the ache at the back of her throat. “Remember my first Season when I came home ill with that head injury?”
“It was then? No one would tell me anything.”
“Of course not. You were thirteen years old. It was hardly fitting.”
“I am not thirteen now.”
“It was at my first ball. I foolishly went into the garden with a man, and he, and he…” She bit her lip.
Diana took her hand and led her back to the sofa. “He hurt you? Who was it?”
“Lord Lawley. I struggled with him and hit my head. I don’t remember much about it.”
“It’s a wonder Papa didn’t have him thrown in Newgate.”
Helen shook her head. “Papa doesn’t know the extent of it. Only that the man made ill-mannered advances to me and I panicked.” She covered her face with her hands. “He now thinks me timid and doesn’t respect me, although I know he loves me.”
“Then why didn’t Mama tell him?”
“She was afraid if he knew he would call Lawley out. He is younger and known to be a good shot. Papa would have been killed. Then Lawley left the country, and it was too late.”
Unmasking Lady Helen: The Kinsey Family (The Kinsey Family Series Book 1) Page 15
