by Allison Lane
To prevent his leg from freezing again, he gingerly climbed down, then paced the stable yard to loosen his knee while grooms buckled new teams in place.
By the time he returned to the carriage, he had settled on a strategy. Serious seduction must wait until they reached Audley that evening, for he couldn’t stay focused while rough roads battered his ribs. In the meantime, he could gather information – with more finesse than he’d shown yesterday.
He waited until they were out of town before speaking. “Tell me about your house. I’d like to know what to expect.”
She frowned. “It is huge – four wings enclosing a large courtyard – which makes upkeep difficult, as every owner can attest.”
“Expensive?”
“Very. And we haven’t even tried to maintain everything.”
“Tell me about it.”
She relaxed into the corner of the seat. “The oldest wing was an ostentatious Tudor manor with state apartments large enough to accommodate Henry VIII’s entourage – the builder was one of Henry’s advisors. But his fortunes declined under Queen Mary, forcing his heir to sell the estate. The new owner wanted to add three short wings to create an Elizabethan ‘E’, but managed only a ‘C’ before his purse ran dry. By the time his grandson sold Audley, poor maintenance left the Tudor wing unlivable, and the second Elizabethan wing was nearly as bad – they must have cut corners in its construction, for it deteriorated rapidly. Rather than restore them, the new owner closed the courtyard with a Palladian wing taller and broader than the Tudor section. But his grand vision outstripped his purse, leaving his heirs deeply in debt. Papa bought the place twelve years ago. He refurbished the Palladian wing and repaired the better Elizabethan wing so he could accommodate large house parties. The others remain derelict.”
“But Steven could enter if he decides to come here?”
She nodded. “He was fascinated by the house from the moment he arrived, exploring it every chance he could. I often found him poking about in odd corners.”
“What about Dudley?”
“Dudley explored nearby taprooms and gaming establishments, but cared little for the estate. He spent his few hours at Audley sleeping off excess wine.”
Rafe stared blindly at the passing scenery. Audley Court was larger than he had imagined. “What about the staff?”
“Most of the underservants have been at Audley for years. Steven replaced the upper staff. But as servants dare not oppose their superiors, I can’t trust anyone.”
“I don’t understand how he turned off your staff. It’s your house.”
“I made a mistake,” she snapped, lowering her gaze to the hands twisting in her lap.
Startled, he softened his tone. “Everyone makes mistakes, Helen. It’s part of living.” He covered her hand. “What happened?”
“I was so concerned with Mother that I left the supervision of everything else to my butler, housekeeper, and steward.”
“You trusted them.”
“Yes. But they couldn’t fight Steven. That letter he forged from Formsby gave him more authority than I initially realized, and he passed on numerous orders he claimed came from me. Before I knew it, his own servants were in charge, and no one would talk to me.”
“So we have a staff we cannot trust and a house that might already shelter an enemy.”
“That sums it up. I can’t believe I was so stupid.” She retrieved her hand, turning to stare out the window.
“Not stupid.” He stroked her hair, trying to soothe her distress – and remind her she was his. “You were wracked by grief and effectively alone. No one functions well under such conditions.”
“That’s no excuse. Papa put me in charge. He expected me to keep Audley safe and prosperous. He depended on me, but I let him down.”
“Relax, Helen. You—”
“Relax? How can I relax? The staff distrusts and despises me. God knows what the tenants believe. I’ve neglected them terribly and deserve their contempt. And what about the villagers?”
“Stop this, Helen. Hysteria won’t help.” He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. But inside, he cursed. He should have realized that Steven’s takeover had stripped her confidence. Assuming male responsibilities would have already left her susceptible to doubt – too many men would question her competence. Her spirit was badly battered. A husband she didn’t trust would add to the problem and might explain why she clung so tightly to duty.
He should have fetched a copy of Sir Arthur’s will from the Doctors Commons archives before leaving London. Granted, there ought be one at Audley, but Steven might have destroyed it. Was there any local authority who might know the truth?
“Who was your father’s solicitor?” he asked.
“Mr. Fielding. He has offices at Lincoln’s Inn.”
“London.” He should have known.
“Papa saw no reason to change advisors after we moved to Audley.”
Cursing, he sought some way to bolster her confidence. Facing Steven would be hard enough without fretting whether she would fall apart.
“Arthur would never have entrusted you with Audley unless he believed in you,” he began, again catching her hand. He wasn’t sure that was true – Arthur hadn’t had much choice – but calming her was vital. “Alquist often marveled at his cousin’s instincts and perspicacity.”
“But his mind died before he did, Rafe. Though I denied the truth to outsiders, Papa could barely function that last year, and his periods of confusion started much earlier.”
At least she trusted him enough to share a family secret. Perhaps he could build on that. “Tell me about him,” he urged, pulling her against his side. “From Alquist’s tales, he sounds a most unusual man.”
Helen relaxed and began to talk.
* * * *
Alice paced Hillcrest’s drawing room, wondering where to start looking for a companion. As Rafe had pointed out, she could not stay at Hillcrest without one.
An even bigger problem was her meekness. Hillcrest had easily intimidated her at dinner last night. His idea of a perfect female was one who never intruded on his thoughts. But if she remained silent, she might spend the rest of her life in this cheerless house. Hillcrest would never take her to town without a battle. So she must learn to stand up for herself.
Rafe’s charge that she was insipid, timid, and naïve had hurt, but he was right. Though she’d triumphed in scores of fantasy confrontations, her actual record was grim.
Mason appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Everly to see you, Miss Alice.”
“Who?”
“She says she is your companion.” His butler’s demeanor slipped, producing a disapproving frown.
“Send her in.” But she cringed. Any woman Hillcrest had summoned would never do. Selecting a chair, she tried to look formidable.
“Mrs. Everly,” Mason announced. A nervous middle-aged woman hovered behind him.
Alice gestured her to a seat, all the while castigating herself for expecting a battle-ax. Hillcrest would not allow a woman of strong character under his roof. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” she said, keeping her voice firm. “I hadn’t expected you.”
Mrs. Everly nodded. “Yes, I was told that the position was subject to your approval.”
“By whom?” She perked to attention.
“Mr. Barnes.” When Alice said nothing, she clarified. “Mr. Thomas’s secretary. He called at my employment registry yesterday.”
Rafe? She relaxed. Rafe knew how domineering Hillcrest was, and how obsessed with obtaining the Grange. Until he’d raised the subject, it had not occurred to her that Hillcrest could now claim it only by wedding her himself.
But she would never have believed Rafe would actually find a companion for her. It belied everything she knew about him.
Five minutes extracted Mrs. Everly’s background, references, and a note from Mr. Barnes explaining the employment terms he had negotiated. Another half hour convinced her that she and Mrs.
Everly would suit quite well. Lady Sherwood, her most recent employer, had been active in London society, often taking Mrs. Everly on morning calls and to other affairs. Such experience would aid Alice’s come-out.
Alice gave Mrs. Everly the room next to hers, then headed for the library to inform Hillcrest that she had hired a companion. There would be no better time to lay aside her meek subservience.
“How dare you bring a stranger into my house?” he demanded the moment she entered his dismal room.
His fury struck like a fist. She wanted to run, but Hillcrest treated life as a war. One victory, and he would never relent. Straightening to her full five-feet-two, she locked gazes. “I need a c-companion, my lord. I c-cannot live here without one.”
“Ridiculous. I am your guardian.”
“B-but not a relation.” She gripped the door handle to stay upright. “P-people will talk, sir. We cannot seem improper.”
“Impro—” Veins bulged purple at his temples.
For an instant, she feared he would collapse like her father, but he’d been far angrier when Rafe had appeared with a wife. “Improper,” she repeated, taking the chair he hadn’t offered – her knees could no longer support her. “P-people see what they wish to see – scandal. My reputation cannot sustain further damage. Mrs. Everly will make a p-perfect companion.”
“Hah!” He rose to tower over her. “Females can’t think. A decision of such import is beyond you.”
Spots danced before her eyes. Only imagining him as her husband gave her the strength to continue. “P-please sit down, sir. A gentleman cannot rise while a lady remains seated.”
To her surprise, he sat. Did he actually apply manners to himself? Her small victory steadied her nerves. “Mrs. Everly will do more than protect my reputation,” she continued softly. “She will prepare me for London.”
“You can’t visit that hellhole!” His body vibrated, but he remained in his chair.
“I must find a husband, sir. If you don’t wish to go, then I will find another sponsor. In the meantime, I need instruction in the ways of society. Mrs. Everly will do quite well.”
“Absolutely not!” He pounded on a table.
His violence unleashed a temper she’d never before lost. “If you insist on being perverse, sir, Mrs. Everly and I will repair to Paulus Grange. I would rather raise eyebrows by setting up my own establishment than forgo the perfect companion.”
“But—” He sputtered for nearly a minute before continuing. “If you must have a bedamned female hanging on your skirts, at least examine the options. Don’t hire the first floozy who raps on the door. What do you know of her? She might intend to rob me.”
“Hardly.” She repeated Mrs. Everly’s history. “I have examined her references closely and find them impeccable.
“You can’t have contacted an agency this quickly,” he protested.
“That is true. I’ve hardly had time to think since Papa died. Rafe’s secretary handled the initial interviews.”
“Rafe? If the woman claims he sent her, then you know she’s lying. He is a dishonorable cad, an uncaring wastrel who never looks beyond the desire of the moment, a self-centered—”
“Wrong!” For a moment she thought he would expire from shock. “I spoke with him two nights ago, sir. He was furious at your disregard for my reputation. This is his way to make amends.”
“But that isn’t like him at all.”
“How do you know?” His bewilderment confirmed her suspicions. “You are so busy maligning him that you never observe him. Isn’t it time to discover what sort of man he truly is?”
“I know very well what sort of man he is.”
“Then why does this surprise you? Why did you ignore his refusal to wed me? Why do you condemn him every time you open your mouth? Mrs. Everly finds him generous and caring. No one has seen anything deserving censure in ten years.”
“Where there is smoke, there is fire, and the newspapers reek of smoke. Not a week goes by without new tales.”
“Forget that old adage,” she dared. “Society sees smoke long after the flames have died. People love scandal and look for it everywhere. If their expectations are foiled, they are quite happy to speculate – it gives them something to do. But that does not mean the tales are true.”
“How can you defend him after the way he treated you?” He again pounded the table, an intimidation tactic he must use often.
She nearly quailed, but giving up might cost her Mrs. Everly. “How can you cling to your hatred when evidence proves you wrong? Rafe is a man, not a substitute for your wife.”
“How dare—”
“I dare because everyone knows about your long feud – your public arguments made you laughingstocks. I dare because I won’t remain here if you try to draw me into your battle. Lady Hillcrest is dead. Perpetuating the past by attacking Rafe serves no purpose. He is not responsible for events that occurred before he was born. Lay that feud to rest.”
“Enough!” he roared. “He took her side. He—”
“Only because you forced him to choose sides.”
“Are you really so coldhearted that you would champion the man who jilted you?” he demanded.
She sighed, shaking her head in disgust. Hillcrest was the most pigheaded, impossible man she had ever met. She could not afford to retreat, yet entering his war would nullify standing up to him. She tried a simple fact. “Rafe did not jilt me. On the rare occasions when we met, he made his disdain clear. It was you who insisted that a betrothal existed.”
“Pauling—”
“No. Father had nothing to do with it. We will not discuss it again.”
“How dare you imply—” he sputtered. “A girl your age should know her place. No gentleman—”
“I do know my place, sir. It is you who ignore your place. You call yourself a gentleman, but no gentleman would blacken his son’s name merely to score points against his wife. How can you brand Rafe a jilt over a betrothal he refused? Don’t you understand what you demanded? Wedding me would have forced him into debauchery worse than the most exaggerated tales. How else could he have tolerated your injustice?”
He gasped.
“You cannot change a man’s character by force,” she continued, clasping her hands to control their shaking. “Rafe is too full of life to accept the rustication you enjoy.”
“He would have settled down.”
“Not until he’d withered and died. Lay your dreams aside, sir. If demanding he wed me was meant to expand Hillcrest’s coffers, then Rafe has done better without your help.”
“If you believe her.”
“I do. And you will, too, if you send your secretary to London with orders to collect facts. Rafe is not stupid. He knows his wife’s godmother very well and has heard many tales of her over the years. He told me that meeting her in person was like meeting an old friend. When your secretary returns, I will expect your apology. Without it, I will move back home and petition the court to appoint a new guardian.”
His face purpled. Again he leaped up to tower over her, trying to intimidate her into submission.
She concentrated on sitting still, though every instinct sought flight. Even reminding herself that he’d never been violent couldn’t lessen her fear.
But he finally resumed his seat.
“I appreciate that, my lord.” Rising, she headed for the door. “I must thank Rafe for sending Mrs. Everly. You might do the same. And you owe him an apology.”
“No.”
She paused with her hand on the latch, but his raised hand halted her reply.
“You are headstrong to a fault and too willing to think well of people you don’t know. The only way to remedy that is to prove you wrong. We will leave for Audley in the morning.”
What had she done? She swallowed hard. This was not at all what she wanted. “Only if you keep an open mind, sir. I won’t subject Rafe to another of your tirades.”
“So be it. I’ve nothing to fear. You will admit you
r mistake and accord me proper respect in the future.”
That sounded ominous, but Alice knew she would win no more concessions today. She would have to see that he kept that grudging vow.
Chapter Fourteen
Helen tensed as they stopped at yet another inn to change teams. She needed to get out of this carriage so she could breathe. Rafe didn’t even have to speak to seduce her.
He’d moved to the opposite seat after lunch, but escaping his wandering hands and the brush of his thigh didn’t relax her, for she couldn’t keep her eyes from straying to his form. His presence filled the carriage, suffocating her with awareness until her heart pounded and her lungs gasped for air. His every glance tightened her nipples and pooled moist heat between her legs. Each twitch of his fingers raised memories of their wedding night. If only she hadn’t passed out. She’d been willing – nay, eager – to carry out her duties. But no more.
She grimaced. Part of her still longed for his touch, but knowledge had added a layer of fear – of the pain an attachment would cause if he left; of the pleasure he offered, for it threatened her control; of failing to meet her father’s expectations. Until she banished those fears, she could not bed him. Yet only trust could banish them.
And that was the rub. How could she trust him after seeing him with Alice? She couldn’t even ask about that kiss, for his denials would mean nothing.
“Come inside,” Rafe ordered, flinging the door open. The words conjured images of beds until he added, “We will have a bite to eat and refresh ourselves.”
“We can eat at Audley. We’ll be there within the hour.”
“Helen.” He shook his head. “Think. Do you really want to face Steven on an empty stomach?”
Reality crashed back. “You expect him to be there, don’t you?”
“No, but he might be. So you must be strong. Come inside and eat. You will feel better for it, and it won’t delay us more than a few minutes.”
He was right, but she resented that he could remain so calm while his eyes seemed to strip her, turning her legs to mush and melting her mind. It was more proof that he cared little for her.
