by Allison Lane
“You are not the wastrel I thought.”
“My reputation does obscure truth at times.”
“Why?”
He set the desk in place and adjusted its angle. “Two people have worked hard to maintain it – you and Hillcrest. Neither of you looks beyond your own conclusions even when contradictory evidence stares you in the face.”
“You dare compare me to that lunatic?” Portland’s face darkened. “I just dressed him down for that very fault.”
“What did he do to you?”
“Interfered with my surveillance of a French courier, prolonging the war by allowing campaign strategies to reach Napoleon.”
“That sounds like him. Judge first, and don’t bother asking questions later.”
Portland moved a chair nearer the fireplace. “Maybe I was guilty of misjudgment. Losing that card game put me in a bind – my father refused to cover my vowels, sending me to the moneylenders. It took me three years to recover. It was easier to blame you than admit I’d had too much to drink. And watching you squander my funds—”
“Never.” Rafe shoved a marble-topped pier table against the wall. “I invested nearly all of it. The income now exceeds my expenses several times over.”
“My God.” Portland abruptly sat. “Have I misjudged everything then?”
“Probably. I’ve never acted against you despite your continuing slander.”
“Not even Hasley’s?”
Rafe shook his head. “I can’t be sure, since the vote was secret, but that black ball was probably dropped by Sir Thomas Kettering. He’d been muttering against you for days, gifting me with his diatribes since everyone knew we were at odds.”
Portland swore. “I should have known – would have, had I thought about it. I’d bought the town house he’d bid on a week earlier. He hates losing.”
Rafe refrained from another comparison to Hillcrest.
“I’ve been a fool,” admitted Portland. “About everything. Especially Lydia. If she’d gone to anyone but you I wouldn’t have minded, which she undoubtedly knew. Her prattling had become a bore by then, but I was away too often to care. It is like her to scheme to increase her consequence. I never should have taken on an intelligent mistress. They are too much trouble.”
“Yet you claim to love Helen, who is the most intelligent woman I know.”
“Hardly. In any case, she knows her place.”
Rafe stared. But before he could comment, Vince and Charlie returned, stifling personal conversation.
* * * *
Helen summoned Tessa to post her letters in the village, then headed upstairs to talk to Rafe. They needed to discuss the future. Did he want out of this match? Why had he kissed Alice? What concessions would keep him by her side, and could she live with them?
She trembled. Love left her more vulnerable than ever. Yet there was little she could do to entice him if he didn’t want to stay. Giving him Audley and her trust might elicit promises, but love that could be bought wasn’t worth a groat. Rafe had to accept her as she was. If he couldn’t, then seeking that annulment was their only course.
She mounted the stairs, then halted when someone rapped loudly on the front door.
“What now?” she muttered, turning around. It wasn’t proper for the lady of the house to answer the door, but she didn’t trust Nalley.
What if it’s Steven?
She paused. Between them, Steven and Nalley could easily overpower her. Rafe and Alex were too far away to hear her screams. Would Steven abduct her while others eliminated Rafe?
Nalley’s voice banished that fear. “Mr. Thomas is not at home.”
“Nonsense!” Helen rushed down the stairs.
Nalley whirled so fast he nearly fell. “Mrs. T-Thomas.”
“It is not your place to decide whether we are receiving,” she said coldly, then turned to the groom seeking entrance. A crested carriage stood in the drive. “Who is calling?”
“Lord Hillcrest, ma’am,” he said stiffly.
A curse nearly fell from her lips. What was Hillcrest doing here? Had he found a way to dissolve her marriage? Maybe he was unbalanced enough to arrest Rafe for killing Pauling.
Ridiculous, she reminded herself. Reining in her imagination, she smiled. Whatever Hillcrest’s purpose, he was here. Which gave her an opportunity to soften his antagonism. She would not repeat his lack of courtesy. “We are delighted to receive his lordship.”
Her smile disappeared the moment the groom turned away.
“Frank, show Lord Hillcrest to the library.” The footman was standing behind the statue of Apollo. “Order refreshments, then tell Mrs. Lakes to prepare a bedchamber. Nalley, come with me.” She stepped into the dining room.
The confrontation was short and nasty, but she felt lighter as she headed upstairs. One problem gone.
Hillcrest’s arrival would postpone any discussion, though. Rafe was every bit as stubborn as his father. If she summoned him to the library, he would likely refuse. So she must personally convince him to meet Hillcrest – and do it without letting Alex or the servants overhear.
Rafe was installing a bolt on her bedroom door, while Alex worked on the bathing room. It was a crude measure but would prevent anyone from slipping in at night. The master suite’s internal doors had no locks.
“Did you post your letters?” asked Rafe.
She nodded. “Let Alex finish that. We need to talk.”
Rafe raised a brow, but set down his tools and followed her to his study.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded once the door was shut. “Do you want me gone now that you are seeking an annulment?”
“I will not seek an annulment,” she snapped, then reined in her temper before she could demand whether he would. An argument would make it harder to gain his consent to see Hillcrest. “I turned off Nalley.”
He frowned. “I thought we agreed to wa—” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Why?”
“He refuses to obey orders, delights in irritating us, and threatens any servants who serve us. But the last straw was again denying entrance to a caller. There’s no telling how many others he might have turned away.”
“Didn’t he learn that lesson after Portland’s arrival?”
“No.” She laid her hand on his arm. “He claims that Steven hired him, so only Steven can change his orders. I informed him that Steven’s estate is in Lincolnshire, so he must continue his service there, then delegated David to help him pack and escort him to a carriage. David was listening at the door and was nearly bursting with delight when I summoned him, so we can trust him.”
“You had no choice.” He pulled her against him. “But I fear what he might do.”
She opened her mouth to agree, but he stopped her with a kiss. In moments, she was wrapped by his hard and obviously aroused body. Her last coherent thought drained away. This was what she wanted. Needed. She loved him with all her heart. And he still wanted her, despite everything. They would find a compromise they could both live with. Soon.
She threaded her fingers through his dark hair, reveling in the texture of fine silk. Rafe’s hand slid up her back—
Alex cursed as something crashed against the door.
Rafe’s curse was pithier. “We’ll finish this later,” he promised, panting. “Who did Nalley turn away now?”
“Wha—” She shook herself to restart her brain. “Lord Hillcrest. He wishes to see you.”
“No.” He shoved her away.
“I put him in the library.”
“Why the devil did you allow him in the house?” Rafe’s fists whitened. “I don’t care what he does at Hillcrest Manor, but I won’t allow his war into Audley. Send him packing. And don’t ever try to manipulate me with kisses again!” He strode to the window.
“Damn you!” Helen followed. “I would never be stupid enough to use kisses against a rake. You started that.”
“Maybe,” he conceded, but his face remained grim.
“Rafe, please.” Sh
e touched his arm. “Come downstairs. I know you despise him, but ignoring him lowers you to his level. You must extend our hospitality.”
“Why, for God’s sake? He hates us. He only came here to stir up trouble.”
“You don’t know that.” She grabbed his head and forced him to look at her. “The man traveled two days to speak with you. You will do him the courtesy of listening.”
“Why? So he can tell me what a worthless wastrel I am – for the ten thousandth time? So he can castigate me for not following his orders? So he can put words in my mother’s mouth she would never have uttered in yet another attempt to bring me to heel?” By the time he finished, he was panting, and not from passion. His scars stood out against a red face.
Helen smoothed his cheeks with her thumbs. Rafe would never be free until he put this war behind him. But running didn’t work. He must meet Hillcrest and remain calm. Only proving that Hillcrest no longer ruled him would give him the confidence to move ahead. “He would not have traveled across England to say that, Rafe. Did he ever chase you down in London?”
“No.” He bit his lip.
“Yet he lived barely an hour away. He could have disrupted your life at any time by showing up on your doorstep or spreading his vitriol in the clubs.”
Fury faded until his eyes again shone with intelligence. And surprise.
Helen pressed her point. “His errand must be important to draw him away from Hillcrest. Perhaps he heard the truth of that attack on Alex and fears for your life.”
Rafe snorted.
“Or maybe he took your advice and married Alice.”
He flinched.
Ignoring his reaction, she doggedly continued. “But whatever he wants, you should show him the courtesy of listening. I know you don’t want to,” she added when his face darkened. “But refusing is a infantile gesture that serves no purpose. You are above that, Rafe. Do you wish to spend the rest of your life playing petulant child to his domineering parent? You will never be free of him until you withdraw from his war. He and your mother were strong-willed people who refused to compromise. But their differences are not your concern. This is your house, so you can set the rules. You needn’t fight unless you want to, so show him how a true gentleman behaves. Let him have his say without losing your temper. Invite him to spend the night. It may not change his mind, but you will feel better for it.”
“Very well.” He glared. “But only if you come with me. I won’t face him alone.”
“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek, then headed for the door.
* * * *
Rafe’s head swirled as he approached the library. Why had Helen kissed him? That light peck contained none of the passion of their earlier embrace. Was it acknowledgment of good behavior – like patting a dog for not peeing on the carpet? Despite her denials, she was using feminine wiles to coerce him into meeting Hillcrest. Even her response to his kiss might have sought to bend his will.
It was working. He couldn’t ignore her request. He needed her too much. Her refusal to seek an annulment had sent his heart soaring – not that it meant she cared. She might have decided that Portland’s adoration was more exciting in small doses than as a daily diet. Rafe couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to live with the fellow. The man was a bore.
He was also a blind fool.
Since tendering his truce an hour earlier, Portland had talked incessantly, mostly about Helen. He’d even accused Rafe of forcing her to stay at Audley instead of letting her retreat to a safe haven. As if Rafe could force her to do anything…
But one thing was patently obvious. Portland might claim a betrothal and swear eternal love for Helen, but he didn’t know the first thing about her. He considered her weak-spirited, fragile, and incapable of understanding anything more complex than a hand of whist. In his view, she had been tossed into an impossible situation by a mad father, but was bravely trying to cope.
“Absurd!” Rafe had snapped. “I daresay Helen knows more about estate management than you do. I know she is more competent than I am or want to be. And I’ve never met anyone, male or female, who is as calm in a crisis. You would be dead if she hadn’t shot Barney.”
“She shot him?” Portland’s shock was palpable. “That’s not—”
“She did.” He’d glanced around to make sure the servants were out of earshot. “I pulled Barney off you, but Arnold attacked before I could subdue him. They were moving in for the kill when Helen arrived. Without her, we both would have died.”
Portland had hemmed and hawed, then changed the subject. Rafe wondered if he’d put the incident clean out of his mind. He seemed determined to see Helen as a shrinking violet who needed his protection and guidance.
“You said you would talk to him,” said Helen at his elbow.
He realized that his feet were rooted to the floor outside the library.
“Relax, Rafe,” she murmured, tightening her hand on his arm. “He can’t attack you under your own roof without making himself look a fool.”
“Your roof.”
“That doesn’t matter. Let’s see what he wants.”
Inhaling deeply, he pushed the door open.
The library occupied the short wing under the master suite, with windows on three sides overlooking the formal gardens. Shelves rose head high between them. Above the shelves, intricate medallions depicting Greek philosophers alternated with paintings framed with gilt.
Hillcrest stood opposite the door, frowning at a shelf. A cough drew Rafe’s eyes to the front window, where Alice gazed out at the garden, flanked by terrestrial and celestial globes.
Alice? His stomach clenched. If Hillcrest had forced Alice into marriage, Rafe would never forgive himself.
When Helen’s subtle shove steered him behind the desk, he sat, grateful for its authority. It gave him an edge he rarely enjoyed when facing Hillcrest.
Helen headed for the window. “What a pleasant surprise, Miss Pauling. Your groom did not mention that you had accompanied Lord Hillcrest. Welcome to Audley Court.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Thomas. We are pleased to be here.” She drew a woman forward. “This is my companion, Mrs. Everly.”
Rafe studied the woman while Helen and Alice exchanged comments on the weather and their respective journeys from Hillcrest. He’d urged Alice to find a companion who could protect her. She’d done well. Mrs. Everly carried herself like a lady. Intelligence gleamed in her eye along with more confidence than was common in companions. She might even hold her own against Hillcrest.
He was trying to decide if he’d met her – she seemed familiar – when a shadow moved across the desk. With a start, he realized that Alice had abandoned Helen and now stood before him.
“Thank you for sending Mrs. Everly to me,” she said softly. “I know you didn’t personally select her, but without your secretary’s help, I wouldn’t have known where to look. Mrs. Everly is wonderful.”
He smiled. “She makes an excellent first impression. Is everything else all right?” He glanced at Hillcrest.
“We have come to an understanding.”
Her voice held so much satisfaction that Rafe stared. This wasn’t the cipher he remembered.
“Your marriage changed my life, Rafe – for the better,” she confirmed, reading his face. “It forced me to assess my needs, decide how best to achieve them, and stand up to Lord Hillcrest. That turns out to be less difficult than I feared. He relies on intimidation, but is unwilling to back his threats with force – which makes them rather hollow – and since he knows only how to give orders and reject demands, logic confuses him.” Her eyes twinkled.
“Good for you.” He pressed her hand, amazed that animation made her likable. Even her coloring seemed more vivid today. She would draw eyes in town from those who sought sweet fragility. “Tell me, how did you convince him to bring you here? He allows no one to sway his opinion, especially a female.”
“Actually, this is his excursion, not mine. But I will let him explain.”
Sliding her hand from his, she rejoined Helen and Mrs. Everly. In moments, Mrs. Everly had both ladies laughing. It snapped a memory into place – a rout last Season where Lady Sherwood’s companion had sent three bucks into gales of laughter with a tale of two dogs meeting in the park.
Barnes had indeed done well. Mrs. Everly was not the usual downtrodden companion. If she had even a minuscule jointure, she would be a welcome member of society. Her breeding was as good as Helen’s, but her family was destitute.
Hillcrest approached the desk. “Alice informs me that she, too, opposed the match.”
“That is correct.” His heart sank. The betrothal was dead and buried, yet Hillcrest continued to harp on it. Helen had been wrong. Hillcrest was so incensed to have lost a battle that he’d hunted his quarry down to continue fighting.
“It would have been a good match,” he insisted.
Rising, Rafe planted both palms on the desktop and glared. “What is your point, sir? Times have changed. Even today’s royals have some say in who they wed. The Regent may have accepted Orange for his daughter, but anyone with eyes can see she loathes the man. And rightly so. He’s a toad. There are so many other princes who would better suit that I fully expect her to throw Orange to the wolves and look elsewhere. Scandalous, to be sure, but better than sharing the throne with a lout.”
Red spread across Hillcrest’s face. “Yes, well… Alice swears that I owe you an apology, and I have come to agree. She claims that I know nothing about you. In thinking it over, I have to agree with that, too.”
If he hadn’t been braced on the desk, Rafe would have fallen. He was sure that his pounding heart had obscured words, twisting Hillcrest’s meaning. The man never backed down. Nor did he admit fault.
“So I apologize,” choked out Hillcrest. “I will do what I can to mitigate any damage to your reputation.”
Had hell frozen over when he wasn’t looking? Rafe could feel Helen’s stare and hear her begging him to be gracious. The words stuck, but he managed, “Thank you, sir.”
“So…” Hillcrest’s gaze shifted as if seeking something to say.
Rafe relaxed. “You are doubtless weary. It’s a long drive from Surrey. Helen will show you to your rooms. We eat in two hours.”
