A Dream of Redemption

by Bronwen Evans

  Helen wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She wanted him to love her. But another part of her, the sensible part, pounded out words of warning in her head and would not be silenced.

  If she was honest with herself, while she complained about having to go to balls, of always having to act the perfect daughter of a marquis, and while having loads of pretty dresses and money had never been important to her, the idea of never doing or having those things again frightened her.

  This was the only life she knew. It was not the only life she could be happy in but the familiar was comforting.

  The one thing that would challenge any decision on a relationship was her family. If they threatened to disown her, or stopped her from seeing her nieces and nephews, she did not know if she could bear it. Was love worth all the pain it might cause her family?

  And did she love Clary or was she merely infatuated? Too many lives could be ruined unless she knew her true heart.

  If she stood by Clary, Marisa was unlikely to ban her from the house, but His Grace could deem her inappropriate to be seen with his children. And her brother…Helen shivered in the warm sunlight streaming through the window. He would likely disown her. Their family had been embroiled in too much scandal; that’s why Sebastian was trying so hard to find her a nice stable lord to marry. Sebastian saw Helen as the beacon of hope in their family’s sorry sagas.

  Just then the drawing room door opened. “Shall I organize to fetch you some refreshments, my lady?” Roberts asked.

  “Tea and scones would be lovely. Did I hear a carriage draw up? Do we have visitors?” Beatrice asked.

  “Yes, my lady, a Mr. Homeward has called on his lordship.”

  Helen’s face went white. Clary was here to see her brother? He wouldn’t—no, he wouldn’t…

  Beatrice swung to look at her in concern. “Do you know anything about this visit?”

  She shook her head, unable to speak.

  “Is that all, my lady?”

  Beatrice nodded, her mouth still hanging open. Once Roberts had left Beatrice rounded on her. “Is there some special reason Mr. Homeward would be calling upon your brother?”

  Helen shook her head again, her mind whirling. “None.” She would not believe Clary would speak to her brother about them without discussing it with her first.

  “I can’t hear any yelling or roaring.” Beatrice rose. “However, just in case I suggest we pop in and ensure it stays that way.”

  Helen was in total agreement and rose to follow Beatrice from the room.

  * * *

  —

  When the butler ushered Clary into Lord Coldhurst’s study, he noted that it was not much grander than the office Her Grace had set up for Clary in her home. The large walnut desk sat near the huge bay window ensuring good light to work in, while a roaring fire filled the grate on the side of the room. Walls of books and files ran along the opposite wall.

  He was used to being in the presence of rich and powerful men and even though this was Helen’s brother Clary refused to be intimidated.

  Lord Coldhurst beckoned him forward, and he moved to where the two high-backed chairs stood on the other side of Lord Coldhurst’s desk. He knew to wait to be invited before taking one of these chairs. Important men always ensured you knew they were important by making you stand.

  Still…He cleared his throat.

  “Apologies for calling upon your lordship without an appointment but the Duke of Lyttleton said you might be able to help me with the hunt for Mr. Glover, the man who used to oversee the Southwark orphanage, and who I believe is selling children off the streets. It’s imperative that we find him as soon as possible and stop his despicable trade.”

  The next few minutes would tell Clary all he needed to know about his chances of wooing Helen. The fact he was still contemplating any relationship with her after the warning from His Grace was telling.

  The reception he received from Helen’s brother, Lord Coldhurst, would give an indication of how his lordship treated those below him. A hostile reception and Clary knew Lord Coldhurst would never condone any sort of relationship with his sister.

  “Please, take a seat, Mr. Homeward.” His lordship’s gaze was wary but not openly hostile. “My wife has spoken of the good work you and Her Grace are doing, and my other sister, Lady Helen, has become quite enthused with the cause as well.” Lord Coldhurst paused and leaned back in his chair. “You do know that it’s likely someone else will simply take Glover’s place or indeed simply set up elsewhere.”

  “I am fully aware of the realities of life, my lord. However, Lady Helen believes we should at least try to change the world. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do and because I do not wish to disillusion her ladyship.”

  Coldhurst eyed him coolly. Clary’s reference to not disappointing her ladyship had not gone unnoticed. “I’m sure you are well aware of the realities of life, unlike my youngest sister.”

  Clary decided to ignore the implication that he had no right to worry about Lady Helen’s desires in this matter. “The Duke of Lyttleton indicated that you have knowledge and contacts in shipping. From my men’s investigations we believe Glover is using a warehouse network. Each time we get close he slips away so I am sure he is using a series of warehouses. He must contract with nefarious captains of various ships to move the children to overseas buyers. That is what is making it hard to find him. Most captains are prepared to turn a blind eye to illegal cargo with the right financial incentive. His Grace said you would know which captains would have no problem with cargo being children.”

  “You want me to use my contacts to find where he is based and what ships he’s using? It’s likely they are going to Persia. They are the only ones to be so bold. It should not be too difficult to find a list of captains who’d transport such cargo. The halting of the prosperous slave trade has seen many turn to other risky trade. I shall discreetly ask around.”

  “We would appreciate discretion. What I’d really like help with is finding out what warehouse he could be using. My men have thoroughly investigated, even put up a reward, but no one is talking.”

  Coldhurst looked at Clary. “This is a bad business. How long do you think Glover has been in operation?”

  “You know the answer to that. A long time. Too long.”

  “We should do more to look after the children.”

  Coldhurst’s look of sympathy was hard to bear. No one had been there to help him or his brother. He sat up straighter and returned Coldhurst’s gaze. He did not want sympathy. Nothing anyone did now could change his past.

  Clary also understood the “we” was a royal we—Coldhurst was referring to the House of Lords, of which Clary was not a part. Before he could answer, there was a tap on the door and Lady Beatrice entered followed closely behind by Helen.

  He immediately got to his feet and bowed to the ladies, his heart lightening at the sight of Helen, yet he was careful not to show his enthusiasm in front of her brother and his wife.

  Beatrice looked worriedly between the two men. “Sorry to intrude, my dear, but we heard Mr. Homeward had called and once you gentlemen have finished whatever it is you are talking about, could you send him to the drawing room as we have a few things to discuss around the charity ladies’ luncheon.”

  Coldhurst looked at him with pity again. “A ladies’ luncheon, oh dear, you are going above and beyond for the cause,” he said to Clary.

  He watched Helen standing there nibbling on her bottom lip and his groin tightened. He remembered just how pleasurable those lips were sliding up and down the hard length of him.

  Coldhurst must have noted him staring as he cleared his throat before saying, “I think I understand your request.” He said to Clary, “Mr. Homeward is free now. I shall send word if I have any news.”

  “Thank you, your lordship.” With that, Clary indicated that the ladies should precede him and he waited before following them from the room.

  When they reached the drawing r
oom Beatrice exclaimed, “Oh, I forgot to mention something to Sebastian. I’ll just pop back to his study and have a quick word.”

  That’s how he found himself alone with Helen, the door to the room open of course. He hadn’t seen her since they had been intimate and his body roared to life. He took in her welcoming smile, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life—and given he’d almost starved to death that said a lot.

  Since he was in her brother’s home, more than ever Clary had to remember to behave like a gentleman. But he was conscious of every subtle nuance; her floral scent, her elaborate hairdo, with fair curls framing her heart-shaped face. He wanted nothing more than to take Helen into his arms and whisper words of love.

  No, he wanted more. He wished they were alone in a place where he could remove every stitch of clothing, and feel bare skin to bare skin.

  “Beatrice and I were going over the final arrangements for the charity luncheon in three weeks. The invitations are ready to be delivered. You haven’t forgotten your promise to come and talk to the ladies?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  She stood there awkwardly, her smile fading slightly at his lack of engagement. “Was there a reason you needed to see my brother?”

  His heart almost stopped as he suddenly realized it was concern showing on her beautiful face. He wondered for a moment what she might be concerned about and then the answer crashed over him in waves of disappointment. It was his presence in this house that was causing her distress. A dark suspicion poisoned his mind. “Did you think I’d come to talk to your brother about us?”

  She gave a shrill laugh as her hands played with the lace on her gown. “Of course not.”

  She lied. She had thought that. She was nervous, and not from maidenly embarrassment. She wasn’t nervous because he was standing in front of her and she was remembering what they had done to each other in the throes of passion, but because of what he might’ve said to her brother.

  Hurt ricocheted inside his rib cage. Was she merely playing with him, as Simon had suggested? Surely if her talk of a future together were true, she would not be so anxious.

  “You’re petrified that I’ll tell your brother about us.” Her face blanched white and he inwardly cursed. Pain made him lash out. “You’re a hypocrite. Our future? What future? How will you stand by me in society if you can’t bear for your brother to know about us?” He turned away, too hurt to stay in the same room with her.

  She grabbed his arm and made him stop. “Yes, I was afraid. That’s the truth. But only because I know my brother, and I know when the time comes he needs to be handled delicately or he could make things difficult for us.”

  “And when will the time come, when you’ve had enough of me? When I have titillated you enough, pleasured you enough? When do you think you’ll have had enough of playing this game? You might not have anything to lose, but I can lose everything. I can lose my respect and pride and my livelihood. And then there’s Simon. Whatever we do affects him too.” He moved to stand in front of her, hands on hips, anger getting the better of him. “I know what it’s like to have nothing and I intend to never experience that again.”

  He tried to harden his heart as the tears welled in her eyes. “Please don’t be angry with me. I do love you, it’s just—”

  He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I’m not doing this. It’s too hard, and too risky.” When he mentioned the risk, it wasn’t the risk of his livelihood being destroyed that he was worried about. It was his own heart he was protecting. Already it was breaking thinking that she had used him, that she didn’t really love him. Why this sudden wavering? “Has Marisa talked to you?”

  “I haven’t seen her for a few days. I’ve been busy with Beatrice, organizing the charity luncheon.”

  So not the truth of his past, she still did not know the worst and already she doubted a relationship was possible. He needed her out of his life. Yet Marisa hadn’t seen her so wouldn’t have told her that Helen should step back from helping with the orphanage.

  But he would. “I think it would be best if you stepped away from your efforts with the orphanage. We need to put some distance between us and I can’t do that while you are involved.”

  Helen reached out her hand to him but he could not take it. “You can’t mean that. At this point in time you can’t hold it against me that I don’t want my brother to know about us. I just need more time so this is done correctly.”

  “Can’t you see?” he said softly. “There is never going to be a right time to tell him.”

  With that he turned and left the room, his heart shattering in his chest, the pain making it difficult to walk.

  * * *

  —

  What had she done? Why hadn’t she argued harder? Because a part of you thinks he’s right. There was never going to be a good time to tell her brother.

  She was such a coward.

  She sunk into the nearest chair and fought valiantly to stop the tears from coming. Beatrice would be back soon and Helen couldn’t let her see she was upset…Or maybe she could.

  She thought about what Clary had said. She did love him, so why was she so afraid to let those around her know it? He was right. She was behaving as if she was ashamed of him and she wasn’t. She needed to apologize and talk through how they could announce their relationship to her family. But how did she contact him? Did she stalk him in his study at Marisa’s house? She bit her bottom lip. No, it would be better if they had time to talk in private, where no one could interrupt.

  Just then Beatrice came breezing into the room in a cloud of noise. She stopped just inside the room when she saw Helen was alone. “Oh, I needn’t have made so much noise. Has Mr. Homeward left…” Her words died away as she took in the distressed look on Helen’s face.

  “We had an argument.”

  Beatrice closed the door behind her. “I think you have something you need to tell me.”

  Helen nodded her head and burst into tears. Beatrice hurried over and gave her a hug. “Has the rogue hurt you?”

  She laughed through her tears. “No. But I have hurt him. I didn’t mean to but I have.”

  Beatrice sat and handed her a handkerchief. “I gather that there are feelings between you and Mr. Homeward.” Helen nodded. “Does Marisa know?”

  “I think so.”

  “Has she told you about his past yet?”

  “Why do you and Clary persist in mentioning his past?”

  Beatrice’s eyes widened. “He has tried to tell you.”

  “Yes. But I told him it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care that he was brought up in Yorkshire near Maitland’s estate and that his parents might have been tenant farmers. I don’t care that he was poor or is poorer than us.” She saw a stricken look pass over Beatrice’s face. “Yes, I have heard the story. I eavesdropped on a couple of Marisa’s maids discussing him and his background.”

  “Oh, my darling girl. I really think Marisa should be the one to tell you, or Clary himself. The background you overheard is a history Maitland made up for both Clary and Simon. The reality is far worse.”

  She looked blankly at Beatrice and suddenly everything clicked into place. “I wondered why he was so consumed with his past when being lower-class poor wasn’t a crime—a hurdle yes, but…do I want to know?”

  Beatrice gave her a weak smile. “Only you can decide that.”

  She wiped the tears from her face. “You aren’t shocked?”

  “I’m worried for you but shocked, no. Love is indiscriminate. When I met your brother I fell in love with him and hated myself. How could I fall in love with my brother’s killer?” She wiped the tears off Helen’s face with her handkerchief. “We can’t help who we fall in love with but we have to be honest with ourselves and make peace with what we are prepared to give up in order to keep that love. Do you know what you will be giving up? And are you at peace with that?”

  “I thought I was, but the idea of telling Sebastian m
ade me a liar.”

  Beatrice patted her hand. “Then I suggest you do not do anything that is irreversible until you know.” Beatrice frowned. “You haven’t been…intimate? Because that could be irreversible.”

  She shook her head. Beatrice was asking if she was still a virgin and she was, just a slightly experienced virgin. Her face heated. “No. I wanted to but he wouldn’t.”

  “I’m liking your Mr. Homeward more and more.”

  “He’s an honorable man.”

  “I’m beginning to see that. Now we just have to convince Sebastian of it.” Beatrice’s smile dimmed. “That won’t be easy, especially if you sneak around behind his back. The sooner you know your heart the better.”

  Helen sighed. “I know my heart but it’s not quite as simple as that. I have to decide if the scandal I create won’t hurt everyone I love.”

  Beatrice called for a fresh pot of tea. “I’d start by having a frank discussion with Marisa. If she thinks your Mr. Homeward is the right man for you, she can pave the way when dealing with Sebastian and Maitland.”

  She wanted to hug Beatrice. Her sister-in-law hadn’t scolded or told her she was being unrealistic. “Thank you.”

  “You are like a sister to me, and I love you. I want what makes you happy; as long as you have thought about what you are giving up, if your love for Clary is strong and true then I will support whatever decision you make.”

  As Helen sat moments later drinking tea and going back over the list of invitees to the charity luncheon, trying to estimate the donations they might be able to ply from them, the weight of the decision she must make gave her a headache.

  It did suddenly occur to her that unless she could straighten things out with Clary first, there would be no decision needed. He had already made it clear that he did not think their love was worth the risk.

  As her heart constricted on that thought, with clarity she knew that she wanted to fight for their love. They could have a wonderful life together and she would prove it to him.

  She stood and went to her room. She knew exactly how she was going to make him believe.