In Bed with a Rogue (25 page)

When she glared, he smiled. “Insufferable beast,” she said and stormed inside, closing the door behind her.

Fergus chuckled. “You’ve riled her now, my laird. Very wise.”

“How so?”

“When the lass finally gives in, she will feel satisfied for having given a good fight. Carries too much guilt, that one. For kowtowing to Laird Prestwick, but she was just a girl. She couldna have won the battle.”

Sebastian’s nostrils flared at the mention of Prestwick. “Did he ever raise a hand to her?”

“No, his lairdship never abused her. She was afforded the same kindness he extended to his breeding mares.” Fergus’s derisive sneer revealed his poor opinion of his former employer. The Scot obviously cared for Helena, which made his overbearing manner less offensive all of a sudden. Her man inclined his head toward Sebastian. “But I’ve seen you with the lass. You listen to her wishes and treat her with kindness. Allow her to choose you and her heart will be yours forever.”

Sebastian sighed, considering the older man’s words. Fergus had known Helena for years. He was like family to her. If Sebastian were truly wise, he would heed the servant’s advice. “Perhaps I shouldn’t go to Haslemere with her.”

“I didna say let the lass run roughshod over you, my laird. Give her the fight she needs, so she can redeem herself in her eyes. Then it’s only a matter of time before she lets herself love you in return.”

Sebastian smiled ruefully. “Am I that obvious?”

Fergus cackled and slapped him on the back. “Aye, like a jackass at a garden party.”

Twenty-one

The next morning Helena and Fergus climbed into a hack to head for Clerkenwell to call on her younger sister Cora. Today she needed a friend, not a pretend footman. As much as Helena tried to stir up enthusiasm for her visit to Cora, she couldn’t shake the dark mood hanging over her like a rain cloud.

Fighting with Sebastian had her insides twisted in a snarl. She had known leaving him would be difficult, but parting on bad terms didn’t make separating any easier. It made her feel like a spoiled, ungrateful brat.

She had been honest with him about her plans, believing she owed him at least that much. But she wished they could have kissed each other good-bye and ended their association on friendly terms.

Liar.
She adjusted her position on the carriage bench, trying to wrestle the truth into submission. Eventually, she tossed her hands in the air. “Very well. I am one.” She didn’t want to end things with Sebastian, but what other choice did she have? At some point, he would tire of her, and she couldn’t see delaying her plans when they had no future together.

Fergus’s chuckle reminded her she wasn’t alone. Heat rushed into her cheeks. But instead of drawing attention to her embarrassing habit of talking to herself, he asked a question. “How old was Cora when you were brought to Aldmist Fell?”

“She had just turned eleven. Cora was always small for her age. Not surprising since it was nearly impossible to get the girl to sit still. Mama used to say she was going to nail Cora’s skirts to the chair if she didn’t sit down and eat. She never followed through, of course.”

Helena relaxed against the seatback with a fond smile. Even when Mama was struggling to keep them fed, clothed, and sheltered, she had kept her sense of humor. Helena’s younger years had been happy ones because of her.

“What about Pearl? How old is she?”

Helena tapped her finger to her lip, quickly calculating Pearl’s age. “She is nineteen. Only a year younger than Cora.”

“Close in age like you and Lavinia. Were they the best of friends like you two?”

She shook her head and smiled at the kindhearted man across from her. He was trying to distract her, perhaps sensing her nerves. Or maybe he thought she was angry with him for taking Sebastian’s side last night. She didn’t understand what had made him champion Sebastian’s cause, but she knew he meant well.

Fergus looked at the shop windows as they passed. “I think we have arrived, lass.”

The hack began to slow and stopped in front of a brick building with a large display window filled with sausages and hams. A sign above the door read White’s Butcher Shoppe.

Fergus clambered from the carriage before assisting Helena. Men and women bustled along the walkway with determined strides. Passersby swerved around her and Fergus with naught but a curious glance here and there. A bell jangled as Fergus pushed the door open and held it for Helena. Smoked meats dangled from the ceiling by various lengths of rope by the unattended counter. Dull thwacks of a cleaver against wood came from a back room, and a rusty scent assaulted her nose. She breathed through her mouth to minimize the nauseating smell.

Helena met Fergus’s gaze and he shrugged. Approaching the counter, he peered over it to check if someone had ducked behind it and shook his head to indicate no one was there.

Helena cleared her throat. “Excuse me,” she called to the person in back.

A louder whack made her jump. “Mrs. White!” The bellow echoed in the small room and rang in Helena’s ears. “Mrs. White, we have customers.”

When no one responded, the man muttered, “Where have you gotten off to now?” He tried once more to summon the woman. “Mrs. White!
Cora!
”

Helena’s heart stalled as she realized the man was calling for her little sister. Grumbles floated from the back room. Wiping his bloody hands on a towel, a man who appeared to be in his early thirties entered the shop just as the front door banged against the wall. Helena spun around with a gasp. A plump young woman hustled inside with two loaves of bread cradled in her arms.

“I have returned, Mr. White,” she sang out cheerfully, swept past Helena and Fergus without really looking at either of them, and headed for a set of stairs.

The man’s face softened as his gaze followed her. “We have customers.”

Mrs. White stopped on the first step and nailed him with a scathing look. Helena had no doubts this was her sister. Although her outer appearance had changed drastically in nine years, she had retained her contemptuous countenance. It had earned her a beating from their father on more than one occasion. “My arms are full, Mr. White. Why can’t you see to the customers?”

Helena held her breath as she waited for Cora’s husband to storm across the shop and deliver a strong clout to her ear as their father had often done. Instead, Mr. White held up his red-stained hands and smiled as if indulging a child. “I need your assistance, dearest.”

Cora sighed heavily.

“We can wait,” Helena offered.

Her sister’s gaze snapped toward her and narrowed. She came back down the stairs. “I will take care of them, Mr. White. You may return to cutting meat.”

He thanked her and disappeared into the back room again. Helena’s eyes widened at how easily he was ordered about by his much younger wife.

Cora’s mouth puckered as she slowly looked her over from head to toe. “You look like Lavinia, only fancier. I thought you died. What are you doing here?”

Fergus stepped forward as if to take her in hand, but Helena held out an arm to stop him. “Show some respect for your betters,” he snapped.

“I am not her better. I am her sister.” She smiled kindly at Cora. Her sister had always been temperamental and difficult, but Helena loved her dearly. Lavinia had told her Cora was affected by Helena’s leaving, and although Cora blamed their father, she’d still been angry with Helena for not fighting to stay.

Her sister moved behind the counter and set the bread aside. “How may I help you, milady? We’ve a nice blood sausage and our smoked hams are always in demand.”

“Is there someplace we may speak in private?”

Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, then landed on Fergus. She frowned. “There are rooms abovestairs, but
he
is not welcome.”

“I’m certain Fergus won’t mind waiting.”

Her loyal Scot crossed his arms and glowered in return, but he didn’t argue. “I will be outside the door, lass. Holler if you be needing me.”

She opened her reticule to retrieve a few coins. “I saw a tavern on the corner as we passed. Perhaps you would like an ale while you wait.”

“I will be outside the door,” he growled before stalking from the shop without taking her money.

Helena sighed. Although she appreciated his protective instincts, there was no danger when she was with family.

She turned back to find Cora’s soured frown gone. “Forgive me for being surly, Helena. You caught me by surprise, but I’m glad you came. Come abovestairs and I will serve you tea.”

Helena followed her sister up the solid staircase, taking note of her surroundings when they entered Cora’s living quarters. The main room above the shop was twice as large as the one they’d shared in their childhood home. It was tidy and filled with light from the tall windows. A ruckus in the other room erupted as soon as the door closed.

“Quiet down,” Cora hollered. “I have a guest.”

“Mama! Mama!” A little girl with curls like Cora’s raced into the room and threw her tiny arms around Cora’s legs. A small boy tottered behind his sister with his thumb in his mouth. His hair was so light and soft-looking, it reminded Helena of down. Her throat grew tight as she looked at her niece and nephew.

“You have children,” she murmured.

Cora wrinkled her nose, a reluctant smile on her face. “Three in almost as many years. Emma, what have I told you about running in the house?” Cora freed herself from the little girl’s arms and patted her head. “Mother White, you are supposed to be watching the children.”

An older woman with graying hair had entered while the children distracted Helena. She held a sleeping baby wrapped in a knitted blanket.

“They move too fast for me, Cora.”

Helena’s sister swung the boy up in her arms when he reached for her with his sweet, chubby hands. “You know what Mr. White says. You must make them mind.”

“I will try harder, my dear.” Cora’s mother-in-law smiled at Helena. “Who is your guest?”

Cora crossed her arms. “None of your concern. Now take Emma and Mathew to the other room so we can talk.”

Helena’s eyes widened at her sister’s disrespect. The woman’s smile fell away and her eyes hardened, but she rounded up the two children and ushered them from the room. It was clear who ruled at the White residence.

“Have a seat.” Helena sat down at the solid dining table while her sister removed her fashionable bonnet, tossed two small logs in the firebox, and placed the kettle on the stovetop.

Helena traced the slight gouges in the wood, nostalgia almost bringing her to tears. They’d had a similar table when they were children. “The children could have stayed. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“We wouldn’t have a chance to talk if they did.” Cora joined her at the table. “What brings you to Clerkenwell? You are the last person I ever expected to see.”

Helena smiled sheepishly. “I am sorry to arrive unannounced, but I am unaware of the proper etiquette for coming back from the dead. I hope I didn’t shock you.”

Cora laughed. “I always suspected the blackguard lied. I knew I would have felt it if you were gone. We were always close, you and I.” She leaned against the carved seatback and tipped her head to the side. “Where is the mighty lord now, and what possessed him to release you from his castle dungeon?”

“How did you know he had a castle?”

“I thought all lords had castles.” Her keen gaze swept over Helena. “He dresses you well. I suppose he is wealthy.”

Helena shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t wish her sister to know how accurate she was about Prestwick’s influence. He had never been unkind to Helena, but she had been his to command. Every decision—what she ate, what she wore, how she arranged her hair, what she read—was dictated by him.

“My husband died a little over a year ago,” she said.

“Oh!” Cora’s eyes widened. “Have you lost your home then? My Thomas is a good man, but as you can see, he has many mouths to feed already.”

“Thank you for the kind offer, but I have a home in Aberdeenshire, and I’ve let a town house in Mayfair.” Helena wasn’t certain her sister had actually extended an offer, but she chose to pretend she had. “I came to see you, Cora. Nothing more.”

“Ah, I see. You gave his lordship an heir.”

Helena shook her head, swallowing her shame over her inability to give her husband a son. Olive had reassured her the problem must have been with Wickie, who had suffered from a severe case of mumps as a boy. “Prestwick left no heirs. He was the last of his line.”

Cora’s eyebrows shot up as she pushed away from the table to pour hot water into a pretty teapot and add tea. “I suppose you have the castle all to yourself now. It must get lonely.”

“Gracie will come live with me, so that will make it less lonely. And Pearl, if she likes. I leave for Haslemere tomorrow.”

“So Gracie and Pearl will have run of a Scottish castle, wear expensive dresses, and learn to put on ladylike airs.” She snorted. “I’d wager that would be a sight.”

“Perhaps you could come visit. Scotland is nice in the summer.”

She wished the old fantasy of having her sisters at Aldmist Fell warmed her heart as it used to do. But she would only have half her family with her, and she would miss the friends she had made in England. And Sebastian. Not quite a lover and yet more than a friend.

Cora rejoined her at the table. “Gracie lived with Thomas and me until several months ago. I hated to send her to Lavinia, given the circumstances, but I didn’t know what else to do. My husband was working hard to take care of us all. I feared for his health.”

Helena reassured her Gracie was well cared for, then asked her about her life.

“Thomas is a good provider and he treats me with kindness, which is more than I ever had at home with our father.”

“I am happy for you, Cora.”

Toward the end of Helena’s visit, Cora brought her children to meet her and introduced her mother-in-law. Helena supposed her sister wanted to be certain about what she wanted before exposing her family to her. She could understand wanting to protect them.

“This is my oldest sister, Lady Prestwick. She’s a real lady,” Cora said with a proud tilt to her chin. “Your son married into an important family.”