by Julia Bennet
“I saw him just now,” she confirmed. “He says he wants to help me.”
“Yes, well, there’s a lot of that going around.”
She gave him a look that said, I knew you were cross. “I didn’t encourage him, I swear.”
“No, I’m sure you didn’t.”
For the first time since she’d come in, her eyes met and held his. “I really didn’t do anything to make him think—”
“I believe you.” Hadn’t he promised never to lose faith in her? A promise easily made, but now he must try to live by it. After all, she had told him about seeing Vaughn again. “I trust you, Helen.”
For several seconds, she studied him in silence. After the first three, he looked back at his work. The words danced on the paper, but she didn’t know that. The quiet of the room seemed doubly oppressive with his suspicions hovering in the air.
“I appreciate the sentiment,” she said finally. “But it’s very easy to say.”
“It’s easy because it’s true.”
“Will—”
“I’m almost finished here. I need to confer with Bell about Miss Stanton-Jones, but then I’ll be up, and we can spend the evening together. If you want.” He couldn’t help adding those last three words.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
He glanced up long enough to see the uncertainty in her expression.
…
By the time Elsie brought Helen’s dinner tray an hour later, Will still hadn’t come upstairs. Helen didn’t know how to apologize to someone who wouldn’t admit he was upset, so she ate her watery mutton stew alone.
He came up perhaps an hour after that.
“Have you eaten?” she asked him.
“I had something with Bell. You didn’t wait, I hope.”
“No.”
They readied themselves for bed in silence, Helen very much afraid they’d spend the night that way, shivering on opposite sides of the bed. So, when he came to her and took her into his arms, she melted against him gratefully. Inexplicably, she felt like crying.
“Are you tired?” he whispered.
“I’m not tired at all.”
“Then wait here.” He put his robe on and left the room.
She listened to his footsteps descending the stairs. A minute later he returned carrying two oil lamps from his office. He lit both and placed them, turned up as high as they would go, one on either side of the bed.
“I thought you preferred the dark,” she said.
He shook his head. “Not tonight.” He came closer and fingered the cotton at the neck of her nightgown. “Are you cold?”
“Yes.”
“Take this off anyway.”
The peremptory command stirred something within her. Meeting his gaze, she drew the gown up over her head in one smooth motion. The cold air made her shiver as Will’s gaze dropped to her rapidly hardening nipples.
“Now you,” she said.
He tugged the robe open and let it fall. Underneath, he wore a loose white shirt, but he pulled that off, too.
Her breath caught. With the extra light, she could see him more clearly than ever before. Every sloping muscle. His strong arms and long, powerful legs. Every wonderful, glorious imperfection. She touched her favorite—a scar on his left shoulder, no doubt the souvenir of some youthful mischief. She must remember to ask him about it one day.
Her eyes fixing on his erection, she stepped forward. His breaths quickened as she reached out, but instead of touching it, she trailed her hand past, circling behind him. She’d never actually seen his bare arse before. She cupped one cheek with her hand and squeezed lightly. No other man had ever affected her like this.
He turned before she’d looked her fill. “Seen enough yet?”
“Have you?”
“Never. I’ll never see enough of you.”
“Then kiss me,” she said, a moment before his lips touched hers. But not only touched. Took. Tasted. Devoured. And she devoured him in return. “I don’t want to wait,” she whispered, breaking the kiss.
In answer, he lifted her into his arms and placed her on the bed. The sheets felt cold against her back, but she barely registered the fact before he eased down next to her, his rough, impatient hands forcing her legs apart. She fumbled between them, her fingers clumsy with excitement as she guided his cock into her.
Gasping, he slid all the way. The sensation of fullness, of completeness, made her groan. Gazing into her eyes, he began to move, his hand tangling in her hair so that she couldn’t look away. Yes, hold on. Never let me go. Don’t ever leave me. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails raking him, marking him as she knew no one else had.
Her paroxysm came before she wanted it. Wave upon wave as she shuddered in his arms. He shouted her name as the crisis took him, too.
Afterward, she didn’t want to talk. She couldn’t bear either of them to say anything to bring back the distance that had sprung between them today. She curled into his side and pretended sleep while he pulled the blankets up to cover them.
“I love you, Helen.” It was a faint whisper as she began to drift.
Chapter Seventeen
Helen woke to a loud pounding at the door. It was still completely dark, and as Will groaned beside her, she rolled onto her stomach and pulled the covers up over her head.
“Carter, open up!”
“That’s Bell,” Will muttered and turned, groping around on the floor. “Where’s my blasted robe?”
From her warm cocoon, Helen felt the bed pitch as he got out. Then came the sound of the door opening and the murmur of male voices in conference out in the hall. The door closed again, and a moment later, the mattress sagged as Will sat next to her. She lowered the covers until she could peep over them.
“Miss Stanton-Jones is having a turn,” he said.
“Does Dr. Bell want you to go?”
“I managed to calm her last time without resorting to laudanum. Perhaps I can do it again.”
“How did you accomplish it?”
“I listened to her,” he said drily.
“Revolutionary.”
That last remark won her one of his rare smiles. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. Send word to Tom Green that he’ll need to walk Hector for us.”
“All right. Perhaps I’ll go with him.” She said this without thinking, which went to show how much things had changed since Will’s return from London. In these last few days, no one had treated her like a lunatic, and she was quickly forgetting to think like a prisoner.
“Why not?” Will said.
His easy acquiescence surprised her. “Thank you.”
He waved that away. “No need for that. You’re not a prisoner anymore, although I’d rather you didn’t go off on your own for the time being, not after what happened when I was away. Needless to say, Mrs. Fletcher still hasn’t been dismissed.”
Helen had forgotten the letter Will had written. So much had happened since then. Sterling had probably thrown the missive away rather than send it to the duke. Harcastle would never have responded in any case. Much as Helen hated Fletch, she was nothing but a rough pair of hands; the duke was the one who controlled her.
“I haven’t seen her in days,” Helen said. “I don’t know whether to worry or rejoice.”
Will reached for his clothes. She wanted to watch him dress, but this morning he threw on his things so swiftly, she barely had time to enjoy the view. He had the nicest bottom she’d ever seen.
“Remember Somerton is leaving today,” she said as he made for the door.
“I won’t forget.” He hesitated on the threshold. “Do you think you’ll see Dr. Vaughn today?”
“I hope not, but the prospect doesn’t make you anxious, does it?”
“Of course not,” he said and withdrew.
Liar, she thought, but she didn’t blame him. She’d have to earn his trust, that’s all. Their marriage was still so new, and because of little hints he’d dropped, she suspected the affection
between Will and his first wife hadn’t been equal. Sometimes he was almost apologetic about his own demonstrativeness, as if she might shoo him away like she used to do with Hector. She would have to outdo him in romantic displays. After a few years of her joyous reciprocation, he’d learn to trust her.
As reluctant as she’d been to wake up before it was even light, she couldn’t get back to sleep. Somerton’s imminent departure made this insane bid for freedom feel real. What if it didn’t work? What if they locked her up and she never saw Will again?
While she worried, the sun came up, though it wasn’t much of a sunrise. Cold, gray light seeped through a thick layer of clouds, eventually turning silver, then white. She dressed by the fire, hanging each item on the guard to warm before she put it on.
At seven o’clock, she put on her outdoor things and made her way to the stable. She’d never taken Hector out so early before, but he didn’t seem to mind. He bounded and leapt about, circling her until she nearly tripped.
“Calm down, you idiot.”
Tom Green walked in and saw her, his eyes filling with suspicion. Sterling’s official orders still stood; she was not to walk alone. “Where’s Dr. Carter?”
“He’s busy today. I’m to walk Hector instead whenever you have time to accompany me.”
“I’m free now, but I’ll have to check it’s all right.”
He went back out but ten minutes later returned. Once he’d fetched Hector’s lead and fastened it for her, they were free to go. Though she’d seen Tom around over the years, they’d never really talked. He was a quiet, taciturn man—or at least he was when in the company of an acknowledged lunatic—and at first the silence between them felt awkward. But as they got farther and farther from the house, her discomfort faded, and she was able to enjoy the fresh air and the presence of Hector by her side.
Will had said he loved her twice now.
He wasn’t the first man to say those words to her, but something told her they meant more coming from William Carter. He wasn’t a man to let the moment carry him away.
Why would he waste his love on a selfish, duplicitous fraud? She’d asked him that very question, and he’d tried to explain, but she still didn’t understand. All she’d done since the day they’d met was use him for her own ends, and he knew it, too. Yet he loved her. It didn’t make sense.
Hector’s whimper distracted her from her confusing thoughts. He strained at the leash, eager to be off and running.
“All right, all right, we’ll go faster. Come on, Mr. Green. Let’s see if we can get all the way to the folly.”
As the dog pulled her along the driveway, she decided some mysteries were simply unsolvable. Instead of questioning her good fortune, perhaps she should simply enjoy it.
…
Miss Stanton-Jones’s condition turned out to be more serious than Will had anticipated. The tiny lady, who normally only ever spoke in whispers, had torn her room apart—furniture overturned, books scattered, ornaments smashed, and the bed linen torn to shreds.
The nurses had forced her onto a stretcher and restrained her arms and legs with thick leather straps. While an assortment of attendants watched avidly from the open door, she struggled against her bonds, all the while wailing. A terrible noise. The keening cry of an animal in pain. But Miss Stanton-Jones was a human being and a lady and therefore worthy of more respect than she’d received.
He turned to Bell. “See if you can’t clear this lot.”
“Right, yes, of course.” Bell’s element was books. He always looked uncomfortable when forced to engage in the more practical side of physicking. “All right, everyone. I’m sure you all have work to do,” he said, flapping his arms at the crowd.
“Should we fetch Dr. Sterling?” one of the departing nurses asked.
“I don’t see any reason to disturb him,” Bell replied.
Good, Will thought. Sterling blundering in was the last thing Miss Stanton-Jones needed. Bell might be oblivious to what went on at Blackwell the majority of the time, but at least he understood how detrimental Sterling’s methods could be. Bell would never deliberately harm a patient, but he’d never make a good doctor until he roused himself from his scholarly apathy.
The multitude successfully dispersed, Bell shut the door. Miss Stanton-Jones’s struggles immediately grew less desperate.
“It’s all right,” Will told her. “No one’s going to hurt you.” The wailing continued, but her hands hung limp, no longer tearing at the restraints. A little more soothing and he’d risk untying her. “You’ve given us all quite a fright.”
She grew a little quieter, as though she wanted less noise so that she could hear him properly.
“How did you find her?” he asked Bell.
“I was coming back from visiting another patient.” Bell imitated Will’s reassuring tone. “I heard the commotion from the other end of the hall. Do you think we should give her something?”
“Perhaps, but she seems a little calmer already. I don’t suppose the audience helped. Any idea what set her off?”
“None.”
“Well, go and ask the nurses,” Will said when Bell didn’t move.
“Oh. Yes, of course.”
Before Bell could go anywhere, they heard raised voices in the corridor. Actually, one raised voice: Vaughn’s to be precise. “I don’t care how busy he is. I must see Dr. Carter at once. Oh, get out of the way, you stupid girl.”
Miss Stanton-Jones shrieked as the door flew open, rebounding off the wall with a crash.
“Where’s Miss Grey?” Vaughn demanded. “She’s not in the nursery, and that maid, Elspeth or whatever her name is, said she hasn’t been for days. She isn’t anywhere in the main house. What have you done with her?”
“For God’s sake, man, not now!” Bell snapped, intercepting Vaughn before he reached Will. “Can’t you see Dr. Carter’s busy?”
“My permission to assess Miss Grey was granted by the Duke of Harcastle himself.”
Will ignored him, already busy rifling through his medical bag in search of a syringe. Miss Stanton-Jones writhed and moaned, more distraught than ever.
“Carter, I’m talking to you,” Vaughn yelled.
Will looked straight past him to Bell. “Get him out of here.”
Bell propelled Vaughn to the door with a firm hand on his shoulder. “She’s probably in the kitchen helping Mrs. Braithwaite. Why don’t you go and look for her there?”
Will found the syringe, but he hated to use it. He glanced up in time to see Bell shove Vaughn out and slam the door in his face. Blast Vaughn anyway. Yet another doctor who didn’t give a damn about his patients.
…
Helen changed her mind. She didn’t want to go to the folly where Mrs. Fairly prayed for the return of a husband who’d died more than a decade ago. Instead, she, Hector, and Tom Green struck out through the little woods toward the perimeter wall and the gazebo.
She’d always loved that walk, but now it reminded her of Will. The first time they’d gone there, she’d been trying very hard to look tragically appealing in hopes of making him fall in love with her. She knew now that she hadn’t understood what she strove for.
For Will, love could never be an ephemeral thing, easily fallen in and out of. When he’d spoken of his dead wife, he said she’d regarded love as a noun, not a verb. To him, love was something one did. If he loved, he loved with all his strength.
Helen didn’t know how to feel about that. Fortunate, certainly, but was that all? Whenever she thought of him, her heart lifted. Her body sang at his touch. She didn’t want to spend a single day without him. Could she love him? Romantic demonstrations aside, could she meet all that passion, all that selfless affection, and match it?
As she walked on, lost in these thoughts, the trees grew sparse. Hector needed to run, so she undid his lead. “Go on, then.”
The dog sent muck flying as he raced back the way they’d come, deeper into the woods.
As if he’d waited fo
r Hector to leave, Vaughn emerged from between two distant trees. Helen groaned inwardly. After yesterday’s debacle, she’d hoped she wouldn’t need to see him again. When she’d known him before, he hadn’t liked the outdoors except for on the sunniest of sunny days, so she hadn’t thought to come upon him in this way.
“You can go now,” he said to Tom. “I will accompany Helen on her walk.”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Helen said. “Mr. Green, Dr. Carter most particularly wished you to stay with me. I hope you won’t think of disappointing him.” With widened eyes, she tried to convey her sense of desperation. Will was already jealous after yesterday; how could she tell him she’d been alone with Vaughn again today?
“I’d better keep with Miss Grey, sir,” Tom said. “Yon dog can be a tricky customer, so I’d best keep an eye.”
Vaughn’s lip curled at their joint defiance, but he shrugged. “Well, go and fetch the wretched beast, then. It’s time to be getting back.”
Tom tipped his hat, then trudged off to find Hector. When he was out of earshot, though still visible, Helen turned on Vaughn. “Were you following me?”
“Sort of.” He dusted bits of twig from his coat. “I saw you from the house.”
When she’d changed her mind about her destination, they’d had to retrace their steps. If only they’d gone to the folly, she might have avoided this.
“So you decided to seek me out? After yesterday, I thought you’d keep clear of me.”
“I needed to apologize. The way I spoke to you… It was unpardonable.”
“Worse things have been said of me. Many of them by me.”
Tom whistled for Hector and stepped through a gap in the trees. Slowly, Helen walked in his direction, determined to keep him within her line of sight. She didn’t want Vaughn making up lies about what passed between them, and Tom was her only witness out here.
“Is that why you took up with Carter?” Vaughn asked, matching his pace to hers. “Because you don’t believe you deserve any better?”
