“So someone recognized you both?” the duke said.
Tom saw the point. “I had not thought that far.”
“But it is interesting, is it not, that you were so easily recognized? What was the name of the man who took her?”
“Everslade. However, Winterton claims he is not Lord Everslade, but an impostor. Is he one of ours?” They had agents everywhere, but Tom had never seen the man before he had come to London.
“No.”
“The current whereabouts of the real Lord Everslade are not known.”
“Hmm.” The duke plucked his pen from the tray, dipped it in the ink, and made a note. “I’ll make inquiries.”
“We left the impostor at the inn. I was more concerned with getting Helena to safety. What she said then, on the way back to town, convinced me that I was doing her a disservice to let her believe anything but the truth about us. I arranged to meet her privately and tell her.”
“Why did you not tell her immediately?”
Tom sent his father a sharp look. “She was distressed. You would want me to tell her that she had married her brother?”
The duke pursed his lips and frowned. “I see your point.”
“I met her and told her. Only then did she prove to me that her father could not have sired me.” He pushed the documents that Helena had given him to his father.
The duke took his time reading through the papers. Tom clasped his hands together to prevent drumming his fingers or fidgeting. His father could not abide fidgeting.
Eventually, his father raised his head, his face a careful mask of imperturbability. “So it appears we still do not know who fathered you. I would love to acknowledge you as my true son, but in truth, I cannot. I did not have intimate relations with your mother until after she gave birth to you, and that is the absolute truth. Someone else got there before I did. I will undertake to discover all I can, but we may never know.”
“Who would she be hiding? Who is so important that their identity must be kept secret?”
His father’s heavy-lidded eyes flickered just for a moment. “I do not know, but I will do all in my power to discover. I loved your mother very much, and she reciprocated the emotion. By telling me what she did, she risked everything we had.”
But his father had forgiven her, where most men would not have. He had even acknowledged Tom as his son.
The duke sighed. “Enough. Of course this means that you are still legitimately married to Lady Helena Vernon. That makes mincemeat of the rumors currently infesting every quarter of town.”
“Yes it does.” Tom felt a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he would not give way to it here. The happiness he felt was not appropriate for this place or time. “I mean to claim her as soon as possible. She is my wife, and I will acknowledge her as such. We will say we married quietly and chose to keep our union from prying eyes.”
“That will do,” the duke said. “I suppose there is no hope for it. But I cannot accept her into this house, Thomas. You must know that. I cannot risk her discovering anything she should not. She must become a Dankworth and cleave to you.”
Recalling Helena’s relationship with her family, Tom doubted that would ever come to pass, except nominally. He got to his feet. “I meant to hire a house for us until we have resolved the matter of the scandal. We can only scotch it by appearing in public, I believe. I was hoping for your support.”
His father was notorious for his cold behavior, particularly in public. In private he possessed a vicious temper, but very few people saw that, and he did his best to curtail it, having decided that matters undertaken in that state stood little chance of success. “A man,” he said once, “finding me in a temper has stolen a march on me. I have lost before I have begun.”
But fire burned in the Duke of Northwich’s eyes.
“You may disown me, sir,” Tom said.
“That is the devil of it,” his father replied. “I cannot. I have acknowledged you for many years, and I cannot cast you off now. Legally, you are my son and heir, and you will remain so. Until your dying day.”
Tom felt a chill, shivering through his very bones, despite the cozy warmth of the room they sat in. The fire spat, and the sound made him start in shock.
The doorbell clanged.
Premonition ate into Tom’s heart, and he left the room to stand at the top of the stairs.
Helena stood there. She had a hat crammed on her head, with curls tumbling down in glorious disarray, and a cloak was wrapped around her, completely hiding whatever she was wearing beneath.
Tom raced down the stairs and dragged her into his arms, kicking the door closed behind her. It slammed, the sound echoing through the house.
The duke appeared above, his voice blending with the sound of the slammed door. “What is the meaning of this?”
Tom ignored him, as well as the butler, who stood nonplussed in the hall. “Tea for her ladyship,” he rapped out, not caring who answered the call. He swung her up and headed for the stairs.
Helena gripped his coat, holding it to her eyes. Somewhere on the stairs she lost her hat, and her hair flowed down, streaming over her as it had that night at the inn. He would not let her go this time. Or ever, come to that. Tom took her into the drawing room, under the astonished eyes of his grandmother, who was taking tea in solitary splendor.
He took a seat, cradling her against him. “Grandmamma, this is probably not the right time, but I’d like you to meet my wife.”
“Well!” Getting to her feet, the dowager swept out of the room. A maid came in and placed her hands on the tea tray, but Tom curtly ordered her to pour a fresh dish for his wife. After she had done so, she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Helena had almost stopped shaking. Smoothing back her hair, he kissed her forehead, which was too hot for his liking. “What is it, my love? Who has done this to you?” With a little contortion, he managed to drag his handkerchief out of his pocket. Instead of giving it to her, he cleaned her up himself, mopping the tear stains from her face and holding it to her nose, commanding her to blow.
Her first effort was too feeble to have any effect, but after the second, the light returned to her eyes. She released her death grip on his coat, but did not try to leave him. That was just as well, because he would not have let her go. “My mother,” she said, her voice heavy with tears.
“Ah. Where was your brother?”
“He left the house earlier, making some inquiries on my behalf, he said. Eve was lying down in her room. My mother chooses her moments. Apparently she ordered the coach put to.” She swallowed. “She was determined to take me back to the country. She said”—she gulped—“she said I was not to worry, she would take care of everything. If necessary, she would have my father take you to the House of Lords for a divorce. I said I did not want that, and she said she would accuse you of forcible abduction. She wanted to sue you.”
Tom had not been aware that the door had opened, but his father had entered the room. He walked on silent feet to where Tom could see him.
“I have changed my mind,” he said softly. “Naturally your wife is welcome here, with us.”
“Why?” Tom could not believe his father did not have a scheme in mind.
“She is your wife,” he said simply. “Do you require anything?”
“We’ll let you know. Thank you, Papa.”
He cradled Helena’s head in his hand. “What did she do?”
“My mother had the traveling coach prepared. She told me to go to my room and dress for travel. I locked myself in and got out by the jib door and the servants’ quarters.”
“You walked here?” Astounded, Tom drew back to gaze at her face, and then he looked at his father.
“The duchess of Kirkburton is a determined woman.” Sighing, his father perched on the arm of a nearby chair. “I believe she has fostered some ill-feeling between our families, but I cannot blame her for that.”
“She’s more than that. If she had me in the country she would never let me go.”
When Helena tried to knuckle her eyes, Tom shushed her and wiped away the fresh tears carefully.
“Believe it, my son,” the duke said. “If I were married to her, I’d be tempted to put paid to my existence. She is an interfering, designing woman. Years ago, she determined that Lady Helena would be her support in her old age and determinedly set about making it so. The matter was none of my concern, but it is now.” He got to his feet. “Please assure her ladyship that she is perfectly safe here. I will find a maid to serve her.”
“Thank you.”
“I thought he would turn me out of doors,” she said.
Subdued now, her face pink, her eyes bloodshot, Helena was still the most beautiful woman Tom had ever seen.
“My father is a loving man, but sometimes his ideals get in the way. He has had to trim his sails, but at heart he’s still a romantic.”
“I never thought of him that way.”
“Not many people do. Come, drink your tea.” Easing her on to the sofa, he got up and handed her the dish in its saucer.
“That is pretty,” she remarked, just as if she were taking tea in the afternoon.
Her breeding went bone deep. The tea set was one of his grandmother’s favorites, a Meissen set decorated with spring flowers. Snowdrops and primroses rioted over the polished, delicate porcelain.
“I shall buy you a set,” he promised.
At least he managed to invoke a smile, watery though it was. Sitting back against the dark green upholstery, her silver-gilt hair flowing over her loose white-and-pink gown, she appeared like nothing so much as a fairy come down to earth.
“Come, love, that’s better.”
She finished her tea before she spoke. Her imperious gesture when she thrust the porcelain at him brought a smile to his lips.
“My mother has always been able to drive me into a complete pet,” she said. Her voice had almost regained its usual mellifluous tones. “My tears were as much frustration and anger as distress. At least, this time. I do have a lamentable temper. You should probably know that.”
“In this case it has driven you to exactly the right action.” He frowned. “Except running through the streets completely unattended. After your ordeal, my love, I cannot allow that.”
“I doubt anyone would have recognized the madwoman rushing past them as the prim and proper Lady Helena Vernon.” She tried for a smile.
“That is just as well, since you are Lady Alconbury.”
She paused, gazing at him in wonder. “So I am.”
“Would you like to rest? My room is your room. At least, until they make one ready for you.”
“Tell them not to bother.”
He burst into laughter, a note of shrillness marring the tone. “You will need somewhere for your belongings, at the very least.”
She spread her arms. “I come to you with what you see. Nothing more.” Plunging her hand down the front of her gown, she tugged out a gold chain. On it she had threaded his signet ring. “And my wedding ring.”
“I must see about getting you a proper one. And I will arrange for all the mantua makers, haberdashers, cobblers, and God knows who else to call. You are not leaving this house until I know more of the situation, so they will come here.”
“Ah, another managing man.” She put her hand to her heart and cast her gaze to the ceiling. “Will I ever be done with them?”
She could still make him smile. “You have recovered remarkably quickly,” he said. “But I know you, my love. Never do that with me.”
“What?” She swallowed.
“That mask of yours is remarkable, almost as effective as your brother’s. Do not show it to me.” He gentled his voice. He wanted to hear her laughter again, but only when it was sincerely meant. “I am your husband, and we will have no artifice between us.”
Her eyes rounded. “What, none?”
“No deception.” He would remain firm on this. “Only truth. Don’t you think our families have suffered enough from deceit and plotting?”
She nodded. “Yes. I think that too. That was why I refused to allow Julius to limit the damage, as he put it. We have lived a lie for the past five years, Tom, even though some of it was none of our doing. No more.”
“In that, my sweet, we are in accord.” He got to his feet. “Do you wish to dine in our room?”
“No. But I have nothing suitable to wear for dinner.”
“I’m sure we can find something for you. My sisters will have gowns aplenty. Chloe is nearer your coloring, but Emilia is more your size.” He assessed her figure, but found himself lost in her charms. The swell of her breasts, the lovely waist he knew from experience he could almost span with his hands and the curves her gown hid, her bottom and the graceful line of her thighs came to mind. His mouth went dry when he realized that was all his now. But the last thing she needed was a man lusting all over her. She needed care and consideration. Her fragile state was his to minister to, and he would ensure she had everything he could give her. “Would you like me to carry you?”
In an elegant swoop, she got to her feet. “Absolutely not. When I arrived, I was tired from running. That was all. I must thank your sisters kindly for the loan. I will not go back. I will not give my mother any opportunity to take me. She would have taken me with or without my permission, and frankly, I am tired of being abducted. I am not a sack of potatoes to be thrown from hand to hand.”
Crooking his arm, he watched as she laid her fingers on it in the exactly approved manner. Throwing her head back, her hair in glorious disarray, she accompanied him upstairs to his suite.
Chapter 15
Since he was the heir, Tom had a fine suite. Helena approved of it. Whether he had chosen the dark blue upholstery at the bed and the windows or had it chosen for him, the color went well with her complexion and appearance. The Countess of Alconbury would receive her visitors here, hold her levees here, and perhaps even give birth here. She moved around the room, trailing her fingers along the polished mahogany of the dressing table, the soft padding of the daybed, and the waxed perfection of the marquetry tallboy.
“That’s a large bed for one,” she said.
“It will be for two, now.”
“Julius shares a bed with Eve every night. He never did that with Caroline, although he would have done at first.” She stopped, aware she was giving away family secrets. Then continued, because she would not deny that part of her. “He adored Caroline when they were first married, but it is not like the passion he feels for Eve. That is fathoms deep.”
He came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Then we have that much in common. We are both completely in love with our wives.” He kissed the side of her neck. “When we first met, I had my doubts. Who believes in love at first sight? But it happened. I have never stopped loving you, Helena. Why do you think I kept my distance from you? To touch you, to hold you, that was all I wanted, and I thought it sinful. It is not.”
“No.” She put one hand over the one on her left shoulder.
Downstairs she had made herself a resolution. She would only look forward, not back. What had gone would not return. With that in mind, she could go on and forget her mother’s terrible words. She would not even repeat them to Tom.
“You are plain and old. Nobody wants you, least of all your father and myself. I will tolerate you, however. But you must accompany me back to the countryside now. We will not go to the Abbey immediately. Your last hope was Lord Everslade, but you ruined that. Why could you not go with him?”
The last part of her speech had shocked Helena to her core. Even now she shied away from the implications of what was said.
A knock at the door heralded a welcome interruption. Tom called out, “Come in!” but stayed where he was, his hands on her shoulders.
He turned her to face a red-faced maid. The woma
n bobbed a curtsey, tricky because she carried an armful of fabric.
“If it please my lady, Lady Emilia has sent a gown for this evening and one for the morning. She says she will be pleased to lend you anything you might need.”
“That doesn’t sound like Emilia,” Tom said with a smile. “What she has, she holds on to. My father probably bribed her with the promise of a visit to the draper’s.”
Helena shot him a quelling glance. “I am much obliged to Lady Emilia. She has excellent taste.” Even though the gowns would suit someone of darker coloring, which was only to be expected, because Lady Emilia was a dark beauty. One was of a deep crimson color, a dinner gown of brocaded silk, with a petticoat of white, embroidered in crimson. Helena had seen that gown last season, so she was probably planning to have it made over for April. The day gown was a soft moss green, again not Helena’s best color, but she would wear anything at the moment.
“It will be awkward, using the same room,” she said, “but I will be interested in your preparations for dinner.” She smiled at Tom, who returned the favor.
“If you please, ma’am,” the maid said, “her grace suggested you might like to use the bedroom adjoining this one. She says she fears it is very old-fashioned, since it is only used as an occasional guest room, but you might like it.”
“Her grace is very obliging,” Tom sounded surprised, his voice lifting, but Helena appreciated the consideration.
The dowager duchess had brought up Tom and his siblings after the sad death of their mother, done double duty, so to speak. She deserved respect for that, and for refraining from voicing her opinions on the family obsession with the Stuarts.
“I wish her ladyship here tonight,” said Tom. “If you do not object, my love.”
His endearment spoken before someone else gave Helena pause. Tom was not denying their love to anyone, it appeared. Neither would she, although her natural reticence made the task more difficult. But she loved him truly and she would accustom herself to his words. She would not find the task too much to bear. “No, I do not.”
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