The Next Best Bride (30 page)

He would have to explain to the duke, who would, no doubt, confide in the duchess. They would probably think him mad, and keep Helena and the child from him forever.

So be it.

Chapter Twenty Three

Helena had not expected to see London again until after her child was born. But she had followed Rand's instructions without argument and packed herself, Marie and Nanny Bea off to the duke's home without delay. To Mrs. Robson's shocked protests, she had merely said that her family had need of her and her husband had given his permission for her to go to London. If Mrs. Robson thought that by family she meant her sister, then whose fault could that be? Not hers. Knowing that Mrs. Robson would tell the marquess before the dust settled, they traveled in haste and little comfort.

They arrived at the duke's London home at dusk on the third day, only to find the inhabitants gone to Anderlin for the birth of Valentine and Emily's newest child. Helena had several days in residence to herself, until Miranda arrived home to find Helena and her two servants in unexpected residence. Without Rand.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you arrived. Why didn't you write? When did you get here?" Miranda's worry was obvious.

"Welcome home. Is Emily's new baby healthy and...?" Helena dissolved into tears. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. Ros would never forgive me if she were here."

Miranda smiled sympathetically. "No doubt your condition excuses you."

Helena choked back her tears. "How did you know?"

"Your husband does not strike me as a man who does anything half-measure. The news of his wager had been
on-dit
for months."

How could she have forgotten? "I had hoped..." Hoped what? That London wouldn't care about the wicked earl's wager? Her words dried up.

Her sister patted her hand gently. "Such delicious gossip is hard to check. Simon has tried."

Helena could not strain all the bitterness from her voice. "Tell him not to bother. Rand will see that it spreads."

Miranda's smile dimmed. "So. Not that I'm not delighted to see you, but why are you here instead of at Parsleigh? And where is that blackguard husband of yours?"

"He is in London, as well. Although he prefers to stay well out of my way. He says I've tried to reform him once too often."

"Have you?"

"I've been trying to understand the answer to that myself." Helena admitted. "He wants us to go about our separate business, now that he's gotten what he wanted from me."

"Ah. I see. Separate lives are not unusual, though it wouldn't have suited me, or Simon. Will you mind? I could have Simon speak to him."

"No." Helen shook her head vigorously. "He does such scandalous things I should be glad this is what he wants. And yet, when I think of how he has treated me, I must admit that he has been more than kind." The studio equipment. The tedious nights posing for her. The tenderness in his every gesture. His utter trust that the child she carried was his and not William's. If he did not deny it so vigorously, she could truly believe he loved her.

As they spoke, a footman entered, "His grace wishes to see you both in his study, your grace, my lady."

Miranda rose gracefully, "I suppose this means Simon has heard the news." She glanced at Helena. "Are you certain you do not wish him to intervene for you?"

Helena shook her head firmly. "It would do no good, I'm afraid."

To her shock, the duke was not alone in his office. Rand sat, sharing a glass of the duke's finest brandy, looking as devil-may-care as usual.

Rand rose and embraced Helena as if he had not noticed the way her shock had stolen the color from her cheeks. "You look well. The travel did not tire you overmuch?"

She said distantly, "I have had several days to recover." The spark of irritation in her eyes suggested she would have liked to be sharper, but restrained herself in front of her sister and the duke.

"Have you come to claim your wife?" the duchess asked without a shred of her usual diplomacy.

"I have, instead, asked the duke to take her under his protection."

She sank into a chair, astonished into silence. She gave the duke a searching glance.

The duke, imperturbable as usual, addressed Helena first. "My congratulations on your condition. I have assured your husband that keeping you and your coming child healthy and safe will be our pleasure."

The duchess said softly, with a quick glance at her sister. "Safe?"

Rand marveled as the duke smoothly turned to his wife. "I'm afraid that the marquess is a bit like the patriarchs in my family, my dear."

The duchess glanced at Rand, as if to gauge what secrets the duke had revealed. "He seemed charming enough." She gave Rand an unfriendly look. "Though not as charming as his grandson, who appears to have tossed Helena back to her family like a discarded plaything."

Helena asked in alarm, "How much have you told him?"

He smiled at her apologetically. "I have told him all." He had not meant to tell all the secrets, including Helena's lover. But when his concerns were not met with skepticism, something inside him had loosened, and all the ugly truth had spilled out. And still, hearing it all dispassionately, the duke had not refused to believe him. Instead, he had nodded as if he, too, knew about interfering grandfathers too concerned about blood and honor to care about flesh and blood people.

She leapt up. "How could you. I will not stay here now."

He smiled at her. "Of course you will. You are with your family. Do you doubt they will love and protect you, no matter what?"

She paced before the window, throwing the duke quick glances as her blushes grew deeper. "I cannot bear it."

The duchess confronted the duke. "What can she not bear? What do I not know? Has he hurt her?"

The duke held up his hand. "I will tell you all, my dear, in private." He addressed Helena, still pacing by the window. "Your husband has spoken of your courage, your patience, your kindness and your talent. In all, he makes you sound the most estimable wife imaginable. I am proud of you."

She stared at him miserably, "But—"

The duke lifted his hand. "We will leave you alone to talk. Do not distress yourself further about matters that cannot be undone."

He swept the curious duchess out of the room with him, leaving Rand unexpectedly alone with Helena.

"You have told him all? Why we married? My lover? Your grandfather's threats?"

"I told him everything. Even Jenny Bean and the madhouse." Even the last, most dangerous wager on the color of his coming child's eyes. They had both agreed there was no need to worry Helena about that matter until the child was born.

"I am astonished he did not throw you out of his home."

"I am, as well." He grinned and took her in his arms to kiss her soundly before he said more seriously, "But he did not. Nor did he think my worries foolish. I am certain he will keep you safe from any interference by my grandfather. Though I will ask you to check the girth before you mount your horse from now on."

She smiled, half-heartedly, and put her arms around his neck so that he would look at her. "And once the child comes? Do you think your grandfather will accept him then?"

"I have been thinking of that, too. If we have a daughter, my grandfather will not worry who fathered her. Only if we have a son will he have cause to interfere if he still has doubts." He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "So I think we should have a daughter."

She laughed at his foolishness, as he hoped she would. "But you've wagered with half of London that we'll have a son."

"That is a wager I will not mind losing, if it keeps our child's future safe."

Safe. He released her from his embrace. He did not want his grandfather's spies reporting that he had spent overlong in the duke's residence. "I must go now. The duke will keep you safe, I am certain."

She gazed at him sadly. "And who will keep you safe?"

"The devil does not need safety, my love."

She flinched at the words and he cursed his carelessness. He gave her an apologetic grin and said, "If I use those words again, you may ask anything you wish of me. I shall ride through London sitting backward on a donkey if you like."

Her eyes lit and a small smile carved through her sad expression. "Tempting wager, my lord. But what would you ask in return should you succeed in banishing those cursed words from your tongue?"

He leaned close, to whisper in her ear, "To hear you beg me to break that damnable promise I made you, of course."

He wanted very much to kiss her, but he feared if he did he could not leave her again.

* * * * *

The duke had told Miranda everything, and Miranda, as usual, had begun weaving a fairytale for Helena. "He loves you, he just doesn't know it."

"He is not a stupid man. He is quite determined not to love."

"He protected you against his grandfather. He encourages your art. That sounds like a man who loves his wife. What more can you want? He even forgave you for having a lover. "

"Forgave me?" That was not the way she would characterize his delight. "It was practically a requirement for his bride, according to him. You are wrong. He does not love me, and he has forbidden me from falling in love with him."

Her sister had the temerity to laugh aloud at that statement. "Forbid you to love him. That sounds like a man who is afraid to admit what he already knows."

"Which is?"

"You love him and he loves you." Miranda beamed at her. "Now, all you need do is tell him to stop being foolish and admit it."

"How can I, when he won't see me?" He'd been very clear on that point. No contact. It must not look like he gave a fig for her to anyone who might be spying for his grandfather.

"Well, he cannot avoid you at an affair like Lucinda Cavendish's ball, can he? The gaming will be heavy there."

"But I am..." Helena gestured at her slightly rounding waist.

Miranda looked at her skeptically. "You have a few weeks yet, I think. Better now than when there can be no doubt."

"True." She was prepared to launch herself out the door as soon as she resolved to act. But then she decided wisdom required her to get advice from Miranda on the best way to win a husband's heart. Although, what useful advice could the wife of a paragon of virtue give the wife of a paragon of sin?

Miranda hadn't offer assurances, but she had offered encouragement. And a ball gown for the largest ball of the season. Unfortunately, the duchess had not been able to offer to accompany her. A touch of some illness had kept her sister abed.

Helena surveyed the guests at the fashionable party. She saw no sign of her husband. She was resolved. Resolved to wage a war for her husband's heart, even though he swore he did not possess one.

But now that she was here, she saw no sign of him. She could not ask anyone here, there would be gossip about her trailing after her husband before the end of the hour. Where was he? She half hoped not to see him and half hoped that when she did he would take her in his arms and declare that he had run mad and only now regained his senses.

Before she could think up some excuse to ask, she saw the last person in the world she wanted to see coming toward her. William. She wanted to pretend she did not see him in the crush, but he took her hand and exclaimed over how well she looked.

"Thank you."

She would have gotten rid of him, then, if she hadn't seen Rand at last. Rand, looking at the pair of them like a thundercloud about to burst. Helena tensed as he approached. She studied her husband’s face but could not see beyond the mask of casual indifference he displayed to the world.

Just as William opened his mouth, no doubt to ask her to dance, Rand said, "I believe this is my dance." Within a moment he had swept her away to the dance floor, far from William, who stood pouting as he watched her. She pretended she did not notice him as Rand swept her around in an exuberant waltz.

"Have you something to tell me?"

"You love me." Horrified, she heard what she had blurted out even as his eyes narrowed with shock.

You love me
. The words sent a numbing paralysis through him. His step faltered and then recovered as he moved her swiftly away from the dance floor and dragged her down the hall into the blessedly unoccupied library. "Your sister's influence is lamentable, but wrong."

"Of course you love me. Why else would you have practically torn me away from William? And now you have pulled me away from the party like a jealous husband." She studied his expression. "What will people think?"

He crossed his arms. "That I'm scolding my wife for being out in public when she should be safe at home."

"I had to see you."

"To tell me I loved you. Do you suppose that you can truly tell me such a thing and have me believe you?"

"No." She flushed. "I married you, so I suppose I am a fool. I just wanted you to know. And since you don't visit me, and I shall soon be stuck home getting fat with your dratted heir, I came here tonight to tell you —"

She broke off as someone entered the room. Her former lover. His face was not so handsome as she had drawn him in the throes of love. Rand fought an impulse to kill the man. It was a simple and primitive need. But a foolish one. A duel would cause more talk and Helena did not deserve that. He gave the man a frigid glare, expecting that he would take the usual course and back out of the room with an apology.

The clod merely came forward with a hearty grin. "My lord. Congratulations. I hear you are close to winning your wager." The cad had the audacity to leer at Helena. "Perhaps even closer than you suspect."

Helena was pale as she answered equably. "I cannot perform miracles, Baron, though some have accused me of such. The outcome of the wager will be decided with no more than usual expedience."

"But how can you be certain?"

She smiled. "My husband is a patient man, Baron. He does not act without...shall we say without utter conviction?"

"But without certain facts..."

Helena raised a regal brow and Rand was tempted to applaud her as she said, "My husband and I have a sophisticated marriage, Baron. He has all the facts."