by Holt, Cheryl
“Maybe, maybe not,” Becky mulishly fumed.
Helen sighed and left, proceeding to the front parlor. Tom had escorted Mr. Stanton into the room, and they were sitting on a sofa. He was peppering Tom with questions about his growing up in the Canary Islands.
She swept in, struggling to control her temper. She was incensed by Becky’s sarcastic manner. No matter how Becky carried on, Helen always responded with patience and kindness, but those attributes were never reciprocated. Why bother being nice? What benefit had she ever received?
“Hello, Mr. Stanton,” she said.
“Miss Barnes. It’s wonderful to see you again.”
“Let me begin by apologizing for not replying to your note. I would have loved to have you join me for supper, but what with the shooting, things were hectic. By the time I learned you’d written, it was very late.”
“I figured that was what had occurred.” He gestured to Tom. “Young Tom, here, has been regaling me with tales of the Canary Islands.”
“Yes, it’s where all of us met Lord Middlebury. Tom’s father and Lord Middlebury are fast friends.”
“Are they?” he mused. “You were in the Canaries too?”
“It’s a long story. Perhaps the Earl will tell you about it on your journey to Wallace Downs.”
Mr. Stanton grinned. “It’s my cunning plan to pry out every detail as to where he’s been all these years.”
“It’s an enthralling, depressing, and alarming saga. You’ll be fascinated and distressed by it. He’s suffered outrageously.”
“Has he suffered? Is that it? I would hate to think he was simply loafing somewhere while all of us were crushed and believing the worst.”
“He was very badly used, and he tried and tried to get home to England. Please remember he’s had some hard experiences, and many topics are difficult for him to discuss.”
“I imagine they would be.” He studied her curiously. “What is your connection to him?”
“Desdemona Henley is my cousin.”
“I recollect it being mentioned yesterday.”
“When we were on Tenerife, we weren’t aware of that link. After I returned from my travels, she needed help, so I’ve been working as her housekeeper. Then Lord Middlebury showed up. I was incredibly surprised, and he was astonished as well.”
“You didn’t realize who he was when you were in the Canaries?”
“No. It sounds mad, but we knew him by his nickname of Nine Lives.”
“Nine Lives?”
“It’s another long story he can confide—if you can drag it out of him. Where is Mr. Wallace?”
“He headed for Wallace Downs. He felt he should prepare everyone, especially the twins.”
“That’s very wise.”
“So Lord Middlebury has me all to himself.”
“I’m not sure he’s up yet.”
“I understand that I’m early. I was anxious to depart, so I thought I’d check if he might be ready.”
“I’ll sneak upstairs and see what he’s doing.”
“Perfect. You’ll give me more time to hear about Tom’s adventures.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She hurried out, and behind her, Mr. Stanton was questioning Tom again. No doubt he would slyly dig out numerous facts about Hayden, and she supposed there was no harm in it. The family had to be concerned about what sort of man would be joining them, and Tom worshipped Hayden. He’d never utter a disparaging word.
She climbed the grand stairs and wound down the hall to the earl’s suite. The doors were open, the drapes drawn back to let in the sun, so he was up. She’d been afraid—despite Mr. Stone’s assurances—that he might be feverish.
She tiptoed in, nervous about his mood, nervous over her welcome. She also hoped—probably naively—that she would be invited on the trip to Wallace Downs. She refused to accept that it wasn’t a possibility.
He was in the bedroom, over by the bed, and dressed as he’d always been on Tenerife, as he always was around the estate: a flowing white shirt, tan trousers, knee-high black boots. His gold earring dangled in his ear.
She’d wondered if he might attire himself as the British aristocrat he was, but apparently, he was making no concessions and wanted his relatives to view who he’d become in his years away.
“Hayden, I’m glad you’re awake,” she said.
He froze for a moment, then spun toward her. “Good morning.”
She’d assumed he would walk over and kiss her, and when he didn’t, she was hurt and confused. Was he still angry? Would they quarrel before he left?
He might be away for ages, particularly if he stayed for the wedding. With their being about to part, she wouldn’t tolerate him being a grouch.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Is your arm sore?”
“I’ll live.”
“Would you like me to look at it?”
“No.” His tone was curt, and when she blanched, he added, “Robert cleaned and bandaged it last night. I’ll look at it later.”
“Mr. Stanton has arrived.”
Hayden scowled. “He’s early.”
“He’d like to get going, so he thought—if you were up—you might like to get going too.”
“I guess I can declare myself ready.”
“Mr. Wallace isn’t with him.”
“Why not? Did we scare him off?”
“No. He decided he should ride home and explain what’s happened. You’ll be traveling just with Mr. Stanton.”
“Oh.”
“He seems nice,” she said.
“Nice enough.”
“Don’t be grumpy. He’s your brother-in-law. He’s married to your sister. You have to like him. I think it’s a rule that’s written somewhere.”
He chuckled. “It’s not a rule. You made that up.”
“Maybe.” She forced a smile. “Are you excited?”
“Not really. I’m simply eager to get it over with. I hate drama and turmoil, and I’ll have women weeping all over me. I especially hate that.”
“It will be lovely to see them. Admit it.”
He nodded. “It will be.”
He went to the wardrobe and pulled out several of his weapons,. He dumped them on the bed.
“Are you expecting trouble?” she asked.
“I always expect trouble. You know that.”
“Don’t fight with anyone. Not Mr. Wallace. Not your brothers-in-law. You have to try to be cordial. Promise me you will.”
He stared at her oddly, then began donning his weapons: a knife on his belt, a pistol on his hip, the saber strapped to his back. He looked positively lethal, and he’d definitely be a sight trotting across rural England.
She was still dawdling over by the door, and the distance he’d imposed felt wrong and embarrassing, as if she’d misbehaved and was being punished.
“How long will you be gone?” she asked.
“I have no idea.”
“The wedding is in two weeks. Might you tarry so you can attend?”
“Huh! I hadn’t considered that. Abigail will want me to, but I can’t bear the notion of watching Alex Wallace marry her.”
“It would make your sister happy.”
“Probably.”
He was being so aloof, so detached, as if they were strangers, as if she was just the housekeeper and he was the lord of the manor and giving her instructions prior to his departure.
She’d never been adept at reaching out and grabbing what she craved. She was awful at standing up for herself and stating her opinion. Obviously, it hadn’t occurred to him that she had a stake in what was about to transpire. If she didn’t speak up now, when would she?
“Would you like me to go with you?” she asked.
He was bewildered by her question. “Go where?”
“To Wallace Downs.”
“To do what
?”
“To meet your daughters and your sisters. I’m so delighted over all of this. I’m more thrilled than you are, and when you bring your daughters home, I’ll be here to care for them. The sooner we’re introduced, the better.”
An excruciating interval played out, and he studied her as if he wasn’t quite sure who she was. The entire conversation had been awkward and humiliating. He was acting as if they’d never been friends, as if they’d never been close. He was acting as if they weren’t attached, as if they’d never laughed or kissed or made love in her tiny bed behind the kitchen.
“Are you angry at me?” she inquired.
“No.”
“Are you upset about Mr. Wallace?”
“I was, but I’m over it.”
“Are you certain? It seems as if you’re extremely irate.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind. I was reflecting on various issues most of the night.”
“So was I. I was worried about you.”
“In the wee hours, I pondered many topics I’ve put off pondering. I’ve been so busy that I’ve avoided them.”
“What topics?”
He finally approached, and he killed her a bit by saying, “Let’s sit down for a minute.”
“I don’t need to sit.”
He stepped by her, skirting around so he didn’t touch her. He went to the outer room and walked over to the table by the window. He held out a chair.
“Come. I have to talk to you.”
She didn’t move, but he pulled out the other chair and seated himself. From how slowly he eased into it, she didn’t suppose he had any business spending the day on a horse, but evidently, she was no longer in a position to voice the observation.
He glared, visually commanding her to do as she was bid. She yearned to defy him, but in the end, she trudged over and plopped down. The table was small, so they were only a few feet from each other, but he was so far away he might have been on the other side of the world.
“I’m sitting as you demanded.” She was very churlish; she couldn’t help it.
“I didn’t demand. I asked.”
“Fine, you asked. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“When I left Tenerife, I never thought I’d see you again.”
“I never thought I’d see you either.”
“I was so surprised to stumble on you at Middlebury.”
“I was surprised too.”
She was replying as if she were an automaton, as if she had no control over her words.
“I haven’t treated you very well,” he said.
“You’ve treated me well enough.”
“I think—perhaps—I’ve led you on.”
Her pulse raced. “Led me on how?”
“I’ve been so fond of you.”
She scoffed. “Fond?”
“You know I have been. Don’t pretend.”
“All right, I won’t pretend. You’ve been fond.”
“It was stressful for me to come home. Robert tried to warn me, but I refused to believe him. I presumed—after all I’d endured—it would be the simplest part of my journey.”
“You have been stressed,” she mumbled like an idiot, her confusion profound. Was she to listen politely like a good…servant?
“You made my arrival easier. You made me feel as if none of the destruction mattered, that I was strong and could fix the damage.”
“I’m glad I could be of service,” she coldly stated, but he was so set on himself he didn’t note her caustic tone.
“I let myself grow close to you again,” he said, “and I shouldn’t have. I apologize.”
“You…apologize?”
“Yes. I’m attracted to you, and my infatuation got the best of me.”
“Really?”
“When I’m around you, I never behave as I ought, and it’s given you the wrong impression.”
“The wrong impression? What impression would that be?”
His cheeks flushed, so apparently, he was capable of some shame. “We had this same discussion on Tenerife. I was very clear with you there, but I’ve muddied the waters, and you’ve forgotten what I told you.”
“Is that how you view it? There’s been a little mud tossed on me? I could have sworn you climbed into my bed the other night.”
The blunt comment should have rattled him or yanked him away from the ledge where he was perched, but he responded with, “I shouldn’t have been anywhere near your bed. It was badly done of me.”
“Call me crazy,” she fumed, “but I have always labored under the assumption that—when two people engage in illicit conduct—a wedding occurs shortly after.”
He flashed such a piteous look that she was sick to her stomach.
“Helen, you can’t have thought that.”
“I absolutely did think it.”
“I’m an earl, Helen.”
“Yes, I know, Hayden. I’m not stupid.”
“I intend to wed very high. I was frank about it on Tenerife, and nothing has changed since then. I will pick a woman who can provide me with a huge dowry to pay for the repairs that are needed.”
She felt as if he’d hit her. If he’d pulled out a stick and beat her with it, she couldn’t have been any more battered.
She’d believed everything had changed, but he believed nothing had changed. How could her analysis of their situation be the total opposite of his? How could she be so in love that she was dying with it while he—obviously—was suffering no heightened emotion at all?
“By any chance,” she said, “has my father talked to you about the possibility of our marrying?”
“He mentioned it to me.”
“And…?”
“We didn’t get very far. He guessed what my opinion would be, and he was content to drop it.”
“But he asked you?”
“Yes.”
“You told him no?”
“I told him exactly that.”
He gazed into her eyes, his handsome face so open and warm. His spurt of temper had vanished. Or he’d deliberately tucked it away. Suddenly, he oozed compassion and sympathy.
“What if I’m increasing?” she inquired.
“You’re not.”
“How can you be certain?”
“You’re just…not.”
“Are you God? Can you predict the future? Can you control procreation?”
He tsked with exasperation. “It rarely happens from just one time.”
“Humor me. What if this is that one time? What then?”
He dithered for an eternity, struggling to choose an answer. “Contact me. We’ll figure it out.”
“But not marriage. Never marriage.”
“No.”
Tears welled, and she might have started to cry, but she refused to break down and blubber like a baby.
“I would have been a good wife to you.” Her voice was embarrassingly shaky.
“That’s probably true.”
“We could have been so happy.”
“Maybe.”
A few tears dribbled out, and she swiped them away.
“Don’t cry, Helen,” he murmured.
“Don’t tell me how to act.”
“It kills me when you’re distraught.”
They stared and stared, a thousand unspoken comments swirling. Ultimately, she said, “What now?”
“At the moment, I have to depart. Mr. Stanton is waiting for me, so I can’t discuss this as thoroughly as I’d like, but when I’m back, things will have to be different between us.”
“Meaning what?” She chuckled miserably. “I’ll just be your housekeeper?”
“Yes, you’ll be my housekeeper—until I can hire someone to replace you.”
The announcement fell into the room like an anvil pitched on the floor. It crashed and banged, deafening her with its loud thud.
“I see.”
She studied her lap, pond
ering the terror the coming weeks and months would bring. When Des had invited her to Middlebury, she’d been so relieved. It had solved so many problems, and she’d envisioned herself staying forever.
With his revoking that security, calamity had reared up. Where would she go? What about her father and Becky? The burden of watching over them was always heavy, but now, it seemed too great to bear.
She was just a woman, an ordinary woman who had no excess strength, no magical powers, no fortune, no kin to step in and support her during a rough patch. There was just her—on her own—fighting to keep her head above water.
“I don’t want you to worry,” he said. “I’ll help you find a new post.”
“Thank you.” Her remark was sarcastically uttered, but he didn’t notice.
“After I return, we’ll talk about it and review your options. I have connections to so many families in this accursed country, so you’ll have a ton of choices. I won’t let you down.”
“That’s good to know.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “May I be excused?”
“Don’t ask me a question like that. You don’t need my permission to leave.”
“Fine, then. I should see to my chores. Have a safe trip.”
She whipped away and marched out, desperate to escape or she’d begin to weep.
“Helen!”
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “What?”
“Ah…take care of yourself while I’m away.”
“I always take care of myself, Lord Middlebury.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“In light of what you just told me, it’s the only way I should address you.”
He assessed her as if he’d never really looked at her before, and he appeared perplexed as he said, “I’ve hurt you.”
She shrugged. “I expect I’ll get over it.”
“I don’t mean to hurt you. I intend to help you. Weren’t you listening?”
“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be very accommodating.”
“We shouldn’t have any discord.”
“There won’t be.”
“We’re friends, aren’t we? We’ll always be friends.”
“You’re confused about our relationship, Lord Middlebury. Apparently, I have been too. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I am your housekeeper, but I won’t be for long. I’ll search for another position right away.”
