In Bed with a Rogue (32 page)

Once Sebastian had gone, Helena donned a wrapper and tried to sort through the pile of correspondence awaiting her, but she couldn’t concentrate. How could St. Ambrose be ruled out so handily? Desperate men did desperate things. They gambled and lost. And they did things that were perhaps not part of their nature. Helena would seem like an easy mark with no husband to protect her.

Why should Sebastian risk bodily harm trying to apprehend the man when Helena felt certain St. Ambrose was responsible? She had readily agreed not to go to Vauxhall at midnight, and she wouldn’t break her promise. But there was nothing stopping her from paying a call to St. Ambrose. Perhaps catching him unaware in his own territory would even the odds. She could either beg for his mercy or threaten him in return, assuming Fergus would agree to stand behind her.

Either way, she had to do something to protect Sebastian, her sisters, Eve, and Olive. None of them deserved what the gossips rags would do once they sank their teeth into this juicy bone. And neither did she. The ones who deserved to suffer were already gone, and she would be damned if she allowed her father and Prestwick’s actions to hurt anyone again.

Twenty-eight

This
is
a
mistake.
As the Marquess of St. Ambrose’s butler permitted Helena and Fergus into the marquess’s Park Street town house, she knew she had misjudged the man. No one who resided in such luxury would be in the business of blackmail, unless blackmail supported his love of beautiful things.

She was actually breathless for a moment, gawking like a country lass on her first trip to Town.

The butler placed her card in a shallow Limoges bowl to carry to his employer. “Would you like to wait in the receiving room, my lady, while I inquire into whether Lord St. Ambrose is in?”

“Yes, please.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as her gaze locked on the enormous colored glass chandelier dangling from the center of an ivory dome set in the ceiling. Plush crimson carpet cushioned their footfalls so they moved silently past ivory columns, two on each side of the entry, and passed through a polished oak paneled door and into another richly appointed room.

Fergus’s thick eyebrows shot up when they were left alone. He had opposed her coming to see the marquess, but forever loyal, he had done as she wished. She nodded, acknowledging her folly, and swallowed against the sickness rising at the back of her throat. For an instant, she considered dashing for the door, but the butler had her card. Lord St. Ambrose would know she had been here.

She couldn’t bear to sit on either of the masculine leather chairs flanking the massive marble fireplace. That would require her to be still, and she couldn’t when she felt like she might crawl out of her skin.

When the marquess entered the room several minutes later, he was smiling. “Lady Prestwick, what a delightful surprise.” But one look at her cringing, and his expression changed to alarm. “Has something happened to Lavinia?” The slight break in his voice tugged at her heart.

“Oh, no, my lord. Lavinia is well.” She came forward to offer comfort then thought better of it. One did not act familiar with a marquess, even if he did love one’s sister. And she could see Sebastian had been correct. That momentary glimmer of fear in St. Ambrose’s eyes said it all. He wouldn’t hurt Lavinia or the family she loved.

Helena sensed the blood rising in her cheeks. “I apologize for coming, sir. I should not have thought to bother you. Good day.”

Before she could whisk past, he put out an arm to stop her. Fergus took a step forward, giving the marquess pause. He dropped his arm so he was no longer blocking her path. “You could never be a bother, madam. Please stay. There must be a reason you sought me out.” He sketched a bow. “I am at your service.”

Helena bit her lip, running through plausible tales in her mind to account for her barging in on him. There were none. She cleared her throat. “I received a letter today. A threatening letter from an anonymous source.”

Lord St. Ambrose stared at her in stony silence. His blank expression made her stomach quiver. “You’ve been threatened with bodily harm?”

“N-no.” She fidgeted with the lace on her sleeve. There was something intimidating about him, a hardness she hadn’t noticed in their previous encounter. “The sender is demanding money, or he will sell my secrets to the gossip rags.”

His jaw twitched, but his hazel eyes remained shuttered. “And what leads you to believe I could be of assistance?”

Her mouth was too dry all of a sudden. His guardedness stirred her unease, and she inched toward Fergus for security. Perhaps she hadn’t been wrong after all. “The threat was toward Lavinia, too. I—I thought you should know.”

His nostrils flared, and his glare skewered her. Even Fergus sensed the animosity. His chest puffed out as he squared his shoulders.

St. Ambrose’s dispassionate gaze flicked toward him then just as quickly returned to her. “You came to me for the money. How much do you want?”

“No!” It had never occurred to her that he might think any such thing. “I have money. More than I can spend in my lifetime, but Lord Thorne insists I will not give in to the demands of a blackmailer. I just thought…”

“You just thought what, Lady Prestwick?”

Her body felt engulfed in flames. She couldn’t admit she thought he was the culprit without grievously insulting him or angering him to the point of endangering Fergus and herself.

Fergus closed the distance between her and him. “Her ladyship thought you might know if Miss Kendrick has enemies who would want to do her harm. Her sisters’ welfare has always been first in milady’s thoughts.”

Lord St. Ambrose’s glower was replaced with a look of confusion. “Enemies?” He scratched his head. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her, and if she did have enemies, they would not know about your family connection.”

That was most likely true. Lavinia would understand the need for discretion.

The marquess gestured toward her. “The threat seems directed at you, Lady Prestwick. Have you made enemies since you’ve been in Town?”

Had she? She couldn’t think of anyone, aside from possibly Lady Lovelace, but the widow wouldn’t know about her sister. She shook her head.

“Then it seems the aim is to make money rather than cause any real harm.” He sauntered toward a high round table that held a crystal decanter. He lifted it in a salute. “Do you mind?”

When she indicated he should indulge if he wished, he poured a glass.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked. “I will ring for tea.”

“That isn’t necessary, sir.”

He tugged the bellpull anyway. “But it is, madam. I owe you an apology, and I would be remiss if I didn’t try to mend fences. Lavinia would be ashamed if she knew how I have treated you.” His eyebrows lifted as if questioning if she would tell Lavinia.

“She will not hear of our exchange, my lord. I would prefer not to worry her unnecessarily.”

His welcoming smile returned. “Thank you. I only hope you can understand my churlish behavior once I explain. Please, have a seat.”

Helena considered declining. She didn’t want to stay much longer, but she followed his suggestion and chose one of the chocolate leather chairs. He took the other. Fergus remained standing behind her chair.

“Your younger sister, Cora, has requested money from Lavinia on several occasions,” St. Ambrose said. “The first time Lavinia sold a diamond broach I had given her for the money. I made her promise to never sell her belongings again. What I give to Lavinia is meant for
her
to enjoy, and she deserves it.”

Helena’s heart softened toward him.

“The second, Lavinia asked me for the money. I gave it to her, of course. She wanted to help her sister, and I had the means. Recently, Cora came to her again requesting money. She won’t say what it is for, other than her children need it. She is always quick to remind Lavinia that her husband provided for Pearl and Gracie many years.” He sneered. “Cora conveniently forgets Lavinia’s sacrifice, and that Mr. White was paid to become Pearl and Gracie’s guardian.”

Tightness traveled Helena’s jaw. She remembered Cora as a headstrong, emotional child, but she didn’t recall her being manipulative or cruel. Helena was incensed and more than a little disappointed in Cora’s treatment of Lavinia.

“Did Lavinia give her the money she requested?”

St. Ambrose shook his head. “I refused. It is high time the girl learns to live within her husband’s means. It wouldn’t hurt for her husband to refuse her either. From everything Lavinia has said, Cora is pampered and spoiled.”

Helena didn’t care for the marquess’s criticism of her sister, but she held her tongue. A footman responded to St. Ambrose’s summons.

“Have the cook prepare refreshments for my guest.”

She stood. “Please, do not trouble your cook. I really must go.”

St. Ambrose rose from his chair and dismissed the footman. “Perhaps another time.”

As she reached the door, the marquess said, “Lady Prestwick, I hope you will forgive me for assuming the worst about your visit. I only meant to protect Lavinia.”

She turned, her hand still on the ornate handle. “There is nothing to forgive. Misunderstandings happen.”

“How much did the letter demand? One hundred and thirty pounds?”

Her heart missed a beat.

“Such an odd amount, isn’t it? Why ask for one hundred and thirty pounds to keep one’s secrets when a much higher amount could be demanded?”

Her mouth was hanging open and she snapped it closed.

“It might interest you to know Cora requested that amount from Lavinia two weeks ago.”

Helena wilted against the door. Could Cora truly be responsible for the letter? She rubbed her chest to ease the sharp pang there. If Cora needed money, she could have come to Helena. She wouldn’t deny her sisters anything. And yet, it seemed Cora might not hold the same devotion to her kin. The threat to Helena wouldn’t hurt only her. Gracie’s future would be ruined. The burden of suspecting her sister of wrongdoing proved a heavy load on her shoulders. She needed to speak with Cora, but first she must tell Sebastian what she had learned.

With a weary sigh, St. Ambrose set his drink on the table. “If it is any comfort, I hope I am wrong about your sister.”

“Me too, my lord.”

***

Sebastian arrived at Helena’s town house at half past ten. He balked when she met him at the door dressed for an evening out.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“Well, nowhere until we talk. Are you coming inside?” She opened the door wide and motioned him in. Fergus stood on the edge of the foyer, his dark frown mirroring Sebastian’s.

He strolled inside as if he hadn’t a care when really his blood was rising. “If you think you are accompanying us to Vauxhall, you are mistaken, madam.”

“Perhaps you will change your mind once you hear what I have to say.”

He crossed his arms. He wouldn’t change his mind.

“I think you may have been right about—” Her voice trembled and she pressed her lips together, inhaling deeply as if drawing strength from her breath. “I believe you may have been correct in suspecting my sister. I think my blackmailer is Cora.”

His arms dropped to his sides. He hadn’t been expecting her to come to that conclusion. She had been adamant earlier that afternoon none of her sisters could be involved.

She reached for his hand, her posture pleading. “I really must speak with her, Sebastian. Cora poses no danger. Please let me come with you.”

“You cannot know that, Helena.”

“I told her the same thing,” Fergus piped up from his corner.

She released Sebastian’s hand and threw a scowl over her shoulder. “I
can
know that. She is little more than half my height, and I have successfully fought off a man. My sister is no threat to me. Besides, it is the pleasure gardens. How dangerous can it be?”

Sebastian couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. His teeth ground together. “We have no way of knowing how the meeting will play out. I won’t place you at risk. And you were fortunate that night in the rookery.”

“And what if she isna alone, lass?”

The fight drained from her, defeat showing in her slumped shoulders. She turned misty eyes toward Sebastian. “What if she is alone? She will be frightened out of her wits when two men accost her.”

If Helena’s sister was the culprit, a good scare was the least she deserved. But Helena obviously didn’t see it the same way. Perhaps he would feel the same if he were in her position and Eve was the guilty party, although he couldn’t imagine his sister doing anything so despicable.

Helena took his hand. “Please, Sebastian. At least allow me to wait in the carriage, so I can talk some sense into her when you capture her.”

The word “no” was on the tip of his tongue, but Fergus came forward to place his hands on her shoulders. “It canna hurt for her to wait in the carriage with your coachman.”

A relieved smile spread across her pretty lips. “No, it wouldn’t hurt a thing. In fact, it may help the situation in the end.”

Without waiting to see if Sebastian agreed, she grabbed her bonnet from the entry table and rushed outside.

Sebastian nailed the bigger man with a glower. “You are hopelessly wrapped around her finger.”

Fergus shrugged. “You canna win every battle, milaird. It’s better to allow the lass some freedom so she does no’ rebel.”

In Sebastian’s estimation, she won every battle she fought with the Scot. He was waving the white flag almost before the conflict began. “Are you married, Fergus?”

He snorted. “I canna say I am.”

“Then kindly keep your advice about women to yourself,” Sebastian grumbled, not nearly as disgruntled as he pretended. He liked the thought of Helena having a champion all those years at Aldmist Fell, but now it was Sebastian’s turn, and he intended to keep her safe.

“I may no’ be married,” Fergus said as they walked outside, “but I have fair experience with the lasses. Sisters and cousins enough to drive any man insane if he does no’ know how to handle them.”