by Holt, Cheryl
At the moment, if he’d told her, she couldn’t pay attention. She simply relaxed in the silence, cataloguing the details and listening to him breathe.
She must have dozed off, because she roused, and she was alone. Briefly, she wondered if she’d dreamed the entire thing, but she stretched her legs, wincing at the tenderness in her womanly parts. She glanced around, praying he hadn’t slinked out like a cad and being incredibly relieved when she saw him over by the window and staring out at the stars.
It was still night, but not as dark as it had been, so dawn was approaching. He was leaned on the windowsill, looking like the most solitary man in the world.
“Hayden,” she murmured.
He peered over at her. “Hello, sleepyhead. I thought you’d never wake up.”
“Aren’t you freezing?”
“Yes.”
“Come to bed.” She patted the mattress, coaxing him over.
He studied her as if he couldn’t recollect why he was in her room and her not wearing any clothes. Then he scoffed—as if with derision at himself and his horrid choices—and he staggered over and snuggled with her. She tugged the blanket over them and hugged him close, and it seemed like the most natural act she’d ever perpetrated.
“We shouldn’t have dallied,” he insisted.
“Probably not, but it’s too late to complain. The horse is definitely out of the barn.”
She felt perched on a wretched ledge, expecting a comment about marriage and how soon they could accomplish it, but instead he said, “I’m not sorry. Are you?”
“No.”
“Sometimes, I’m so overwrought that I think I must be mad. Perhaps I am. Perhaps my tribulations have driven me insane.”
“I like this insane side of you though. I’m never sure what you’ll do next. It keeps my life interesting.”
“That’s a very low bar, Helen. Your life was the dullest I’ve ever encountered. It wouldn’t take much to enliven matters for you.”
She smiled, relishing his affable banter. He was so fond of her, his affection wafting out. How could she ever deflect it? Why would she want to?
“What occurred at Wallace Downs?” she asked. “For you to rush home in such a frantic condition, it must have been traumatic. You didn’t kill Mr. Wallace, did you?”
“No, I didn’t even see him.”
“Did you talk to your sister?”
“No, but you won’t believe what I learned.”
“Yes, I will.”
“I discovered…well…a situation, and I am absolutely at a loss as to how I should deal with it. I need you to advise me. Or maybe your father could.”
“If you’re willing to drag my father into it, it must be atrocious.”
“I wouldn’t call it atrocious, but it was the most shocking thing I ever witnessed.”
“Considering the spectacles you observed during your travels, that’s quite a statement.”
He slid away from her and sat up. “Have you any whiskey in here? I’m in such a dither. I can’t loaf and chat. It’s beyond me.”
“There’s wine out in the other room.”
“Wine will have to suffice.”
He stood and went to fetch it, and when he returned, she’d gotten up too and had donned her robe. She was balanced on the edge of the bed, watching as he lit a candle and sagged onto the only chair. He was holding the wine decanter, and he swigged directly from the bottle, not bothering with a glass.
She was a tad alarmed and not certain he should confide in her. Was it better for him to share it with Mr. Stone? Or with her father? While she felt closer to him than anyone could ever be, she wasn’t wise enough or experienced enough to counsel him on a truly difficult topic.
“Remember what precipitated the duel with Alex Wallace?” he asked.
“You had an affair with his wife while he was away in the army.”
“Not an affair precisely, but a flirtation that ended with our having…ah… with our being…ah…”
He gestured to the bed, indicating that he’d behaved with Mrs. Wallace as he’d just behaved with Helen. She should have been aghast, but she reminded herself that men acted in ways women didn’t understand or countenance. They weren’t bound by the same moral rules.
Helen put him out of the misery of having to explain. “You trifled with her.”
“Yes.” Hastily, he added, “It was one time, I swear.”
“One time? If you say so.”
“To my astonishment, she wound up with child.”
Helen stiffened. “It can happen from doing it just once?”
“Not usually, but it can.”
He was in the middle of his own dilemma, so he didn’t recognize the fear buried in her question, and apparently, there would be no opening to address or debate it. He was determined to unburden himself, and any worries she might be suffering would have to wait.
“So you were very unlucky,” she said.
“Yes. When Mr. Wallace found out, he was lethally incensed. He was eager to murder me over it.”
“Can you blame him, Hayden?”
“No. I’m not trying to justify my conduct.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“As I was recuperating in Italy, my mother claimed to have received a letter from a friend in London. We were supposedly informed that Mrs. Wallace had lost the baby, so that part of the scandal was averted. The past decade, when I was so far away, I’ve always been relieved that I didn’t have an imperiled son or daughter whom I’d left behind.”
“You were fortunate,” she half-heartedly mumbled. She attempted to focus on his problem rather than her own, but it was impossible.
“Anyway, I rode to Wallace Downs, and I tarried in the forest, pondering whether I should knock on the door or not.”
“It must have been so hard for you to be there alone. I wish Mr. Stone had accompanied you. We fretted about it all day.”
“I stumbled on a group of children playing in the woods. It was mostly tenants’ sons, but there was a girl there too from the manor.”
He chugged more wine, then he rose and walked to the window to gaze out again. She went over to him, and she rested a palm on the center of his back.
“What is it, Hayden?” she asked. “Spit it out, and get it off your chest. It can’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”
“Mrs. Wallace didn’t lose her baby.”
Helen was confused by the remark, and she frowned. “She didn’t?”
“No. I have twin daughters. They’re nine years old already.”
“What?”
“Their names are Mary and Millie.”
It was as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She lurched over to the bed and eased her hips onto the mattress.
“You’re a father?”
“Yes.” He turned toward her. “And Alex Wallace has been taking care of them for me.”
“Are they all right? How did they appear?”
“I only met Millie, and she was magnificent, Helen. She was so…beautiful. She had my blond hair and my Henley blue eyes. She looked exactly like my sisters, Sarah and Catherine, when they were nine. They’re twins too.”
For a fraught, charged interval, he stared at her with an incredible amount of despair. He was forlorn and bewildered.
“Are you happy about this?” she asked him. “You must be. You have to be.”
“I’m happy, but I’m stunned too.”
“I can imagine.”
“After I saw her, I didn’t have it in me to visit the manor. I didn’t know what I’d say. I didn’t know what Alex Wallace would say. I couldn’t break the news to him that I’m back. It didn’t seem as if it should be me who told him. I didn’t know who should tell my girls or how it should be explained to them.”
“This will disrupt their lives in such a significant way.”
“You think I don’t realize that?”
“I’m sure you do.”
“I want them with me!” he vehemently stated. “They’re mine, and I want to finish raising them—at Middlebury.”
“You should,” she agreed, but not really convinced it was for the best.
“Millie thought I was a ghost!”
“Oh, Hayden…”
“Alex Wallace has supported them and kept them safe for me. All these years, while I was denigrating him, he kept them safe, and now my sister is helping him watch over them. How can I take them away from their home? How can I demand they be given to me? How can I blunder into the middle of it?”
She chuckled, but it was a miserable sound. “You were at a very low ebb this evening. You needed me and hurried here to be with me, which is flattering and delightful, but how could you assume I would have the answers you seek?”
“Who else would I ask?”
It was the sweetest comment he could have uttered.
“I’d have to possess the wisdom of Soloman in order to put you on the right path.”
“Have you ever heard of such a tangle?”
“No.”
“How should I proceed? I can’t figure it out on my own.”
“Well, for the moment, I have no advice except you should lie down with me. You’re distraught, and I’m in a horrid condition too. We shouldn’t make decisions when we’re overly troubled.”
He glanced outside where dawn was rushing toward them, the sky growing lighter by the minute. “I don’t dare climb into bed with you again. I shouldn’t be caught in here. I would never shame you like that.”
“I wouldn’t consider myself shamed. I’m so fond of you, Hayden. I don’t care who finds out.”
It was the spot where he should have declared himself, where he should have proposed marriage so they could rectify their transgression with a quick wedding, but he said, “I’m fond of you too. So fond, but that doesn’t mean people should discover I was with you when I shouldn’t have been.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Especially your father. It’s not a discussion I’d like to have with him. I’m too flummoxed for lucid thinking.”
“I understand.”
She sighed with exasperation. If he wouldn’t approach Simon, she would have to, and she would rather throw herself off a cliff. How was a girl to mention such an indecent incident to her father? And he was a preacher! Yes, he’d been defrocked, but still!
“Go to your own bed then,” she wearily told him. “Get a few hours sleep, and we’ll talk once you’re up. While you rest, I’ll reflect on your situation. I’ll ask Simon his opinion too.”
He snorted. “Because he’s good in a crisis? Isn’t that what you claimed?”
“Yes, he’s very good in a crisis. He’s had to maneuver himself through many catastrophes, so he’s adept at locating a feasible solution.”
He chugged down the remainder of the wine, and he set the decanter on the floor, then he came over to her.
He hovered over her, and she should have been angry with him, should have scolded him for being a complete cad, but she couldn’t speak those words. If he didn’t realize the required steps, her father would have to spell it out for him. She wasn’t about to. She couldn’t imagine how.
“I’m glad we did this,” he said.
“So am I.” She was ecstatic to have shared the thrilling episode with him, and she wouldn’t lie.
He leaned down and kissed her as if he cherished her above all other women. In the end, he’d recognize he had to wed her, wouldn’t he?
Their illicit conduct had galvanized her feelings. She loved him, and he had to love her too, but being a man—and a very obtuse man at that—he must not have noticed his strident affection for what it was. Simon would explain the conclusion that was necessary. Simon would be able to yank Hayden to his senses.
“I’ll track you down the minute I’m up,” he said.
“It will be all right, Hayden.”
“I know. You’ll help me make it all right.”
“Yes, I will. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’ve stayed.”
He kissed her again, then he grabbed his shirt and walked out, bold as brass, without a ripple in his conscience or an instant of worry about being observed as he exited her bedchamber.
Luckily, there wasn’t a staffed kitchen where the servants would be tending the fires to start breakfast. There would be no shocked glowers as he strolled by. Lucky…for him. But what about her?
She flopped onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling. She—prim, dull Helen Barnes—had been swept away by passion. Hayden had been desperate to be with her in an intimate way, and she’d leapt into the fray without hesitation.
There was no doubt about it. She was a gullible idiot.
Who could force him to behave as he ought? She didn’t think anyone could.
She snuggled under the blanket, trying to fall asleep so she’d stop fretting about him and the fact that a marriage proposal had been the farthest thing from his mind. With the news about his having two daughters, Helen’s paltry future was the last issue that would vex him.
Ultimately, she gave up and rose to face the day. She had problems to solve, conversations to have, and calamities to manage.
It was her forte to assist others, to choose the correct path, to march forward in difficult circumstances. She’d get herself through this latest obstacle, and she’d get Hayden through his. Then she’d look around to learn where she’d wound up. For once, she was determined that it would be in a very good spot—with Hayden Henley by her side.
And she didn’t care what he thought about it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“A letter from Jasper? You’re joking. What nonsense has he spewed now?”
“He commands me to attend him. At once!”
Alex Wallace glanced over at his wife, Abigail, and snorted with amusement.
Abigail chuckled. “Will you obey his mighty self?”
“Well, Jasper is Earl of Middlebury and the head of your family. How could I ignore a summons from such an important personage?”
“You know I view him as a complete buffoon. After all this time, I have no idea why he’d write to you.”
“It’s because of the wedding. He had your sister, Catherine, race here to rescue you, but she never returned to Middlebury and never brought you back with her. Obviously, you haven’t escaped my dastardly clutches.”
“He’s such an idiot.”
“He’ll be determined to set me straight and tell me I absolutely do not have his permission to wed you.”
They were in the dining room at Wallace Downs, and Abigail was eating her breakfast. He was over by the window, feeling restless and fidgety and eager to blow off some steam.
“I never should have sent him an invitation,” Abigail said.
“Is this the point where I say, I told you so?”
“No, it’s not!” Abigail firmly stated. “You don’t get to rub it in. I was trying to establish some family harmony by having him walk me down the aisle.”
“And I thought it would be ridiculous. You’re aware that I can’t bear to look out at the pews during the ceremony and see people I despise.”
“Yes, but then, you despise practically everyone. If I’d left the guest list up to you, we’d stare out at an empty church.”
“In my book, that wouldn’t be so bad.”
The whole discussion about guests and lists was fairly irrelevant.
Months earlier, he’d married Abigail with a Special License. He’d been in a hurry to shackle her to his side, and he hadn’t wanted to give her too much opportunity to ponder her decision. With his scandalous history and prior divorce, he’d realized he wasn’t much of a catch, and as an incentive so she’d agree to the slapdash ritual, he’d promised her a grand wedding later on.
It was two weeks away now, and his home was in a frantic whirl of preparation that was exhausting for a m
an who’d wed previously when he was much too young and who’d sworn he’d never marry again.
Yet at the chance to have a lavish party, Abigail was incredibly happy, and when he’d originally married her, he’d vowed to himself that he would dedicate his life to ensuring she was happy. He was very rich, and he relished being able to spoil her.
He enjoyed watching her work on the arrangements, but all that female energy was overwhelming. He’d just as soon flee it by going hunting or drinking in the local tavern with his new brothers-in-law.
He frowned. “You don’t suppose Jasper might show up to stop us, do you? I would hate to have him ruin your big day.”
“How could he stop us?”
“There’s that line in the vows about objecting to the match. What if he blustered in and objected?”
“In order to interfere, he’d have to bestir himself to travel to Wallace Downs, which would mean he’d have to take an interest in what was happening to me.”
“True.”
“He went very far out on a limb by having Catherine convey a message for him, and now, he’s sent you a letter. I can’t picture him attempting more than that.”
When Jasper had ascended to the title, he’d been awful to Abigail and her sisters. His wife, Desdemona, had been even worse. They’d contended that Abigail’s father had bankrupted the estate and squandered their dowries—a charge none of them believed and Alex had lawyers investigating—so Jasper had refused to support them.
At the time, Catherine and Sarah had been fourteen and Abigail fifteen. They’d been thrown out into the world and forced to toil away for wages.
It was such an affront to them, to their father’s memory, to all of their ancestors. It was also such a failure on Jasper’s part to competently assume the responsibilities placed on his shoulders by his rank and station.
With his discovering Abigail was about to wed Alex—when Jasper had expressly commanded her not to—he’d penned the cocky, undignified letter that had just been delivered. He insisted Alex ride to Middlebury to speak with him.
Alex had problems with his temper, and he yearned to devise an excuse to pound Jasper into the ground for the many insults he’d inflicted on Abigail and her sisters. Perhaps a quick trip to Middlebury would provide him with the chance he sought.
