Wedded in Scandal (22 page)

“Did you see yourself as the brilliant doctor saving all? Or as the recipient of all those grateful hugs and kisses when all was made well?”

“Ah, well, that depended on my age. I began as the brilliant doctor admired by all. By the time I was a teenager, however, I must admit to a few grateful-daughter fantasies.”

“Sounds normal enough.”

“Not what I envisioned doing. I was not only brilliant, but I had the brawn and stamina of a Greek god.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He was being so forthright about his young fantasies that she was charmed. Thank God this wasn’t a proper excursion. They could never discuss these things in the presence of a chaperone. “The Greeks were a lusty lot, as I recall.”

“Gods and goddesses alike. I remember trying to compare Athena and Aphrodite to my mother. Couldn’t see the similarity anywhere.”

“Your mother is not warlike or passionate? That surprises me, given how lively Gwen is.”

“My mother is not much of anything at all, I’m afraid. She has trouble facing the day, sometimes doesn’t even get out of bed.”

“Get her a grandchild or two. Then you’ll see how she changes.”

He snorted. “Well, that shall be Gwen’s job. I’ve had enough tasks gifted to me over the years. I cannot stand another.” It was a lie, of course. She remembered how he had played with Thomas. There had been longing for a child in his face. She was sure of it.

“But you will have children eventually. The honor of the earldom and all that.”

“Yes,” he sighed. “Yes, all that.”

She’d gone and spoiled it, she realized. She hadn’t meant her comment as anything more than the inevitable future of a man such as him. Marriage, children, and more little aristocrats to replace the old ones. The line continued.

But with that statement, she brought to mind his future wife. A woman who, obviously, would never be her. That soured her mood immediately. But that did not explain his silence. She didn’t dare ask. It was too forward, but he saved
her by speaking in his mellow voice, the tones low and yet so intimate.

“Can I tell you a secret, Helaine?”

“Of course.”

“Whenever I think of children, I recall those Boxing Day mornings. I remember looking at the stacks of responsibilities added to my little desk in the corner of my father’s library. There was so much work there that I never had room to write unless I put the papers on the floor.”

“You were too young for all that. You wouldn’t do that to your own son.”

He sighed. “But it would be his eventually. More and more, in a never-ending stack. Sometimes I fear I will die beneath those piles and no one would notice for months.”

“Don’t be silly. The servants would notice the smell within a few days.”

It took him a moment to process her tease. And then he released an abrupt bark of laughter. “Yes, I suppose you are right. It would only be a few days.”

“A week at the very most.”

“At the most.” He chuckled, the sound like a slow caress. “That is what I most like about you, Helaine. You make me laugh at the oddest times.”

He said her name, and her whole body warmed. “And perhaps your son will take to management, as you have.”

“Is that what I have done? And here I thought I was simply standing up to my responsibilities.”

She could tell by the way he spoke that he had no joy in his tasks. She understood the idea in principle. After all, she had no love of washing the laundry or learning bookkeeping. They were tasks that had to be accomplished and she had no servants to do them anymore. What if his entire day, every day, were filled with such things? Then being an earl would be no boon but a horrible life of drudgery no better than what the lowest footman or maid had.

She reached forward and touched his hand. They were both gloved, and yet the warmth seeped through as if she
were touching a flame. “You paint a very bleak picture, my lord. Surely your life cannot be so terrible.”

His hand flipped over to clasp hers. It was too intimate a gesture and she ought to pull back. But she didn’t. She liked the feel of his large hand surrounding hers.

“No, no,” he said. “It is not so terrible. Certainly not now when I have a beautiful woman with whom to discuss it. And excellent food ahead as well.” At his words, the carriage slowed. They had arrived at the inn. She looked through the window to see a quaint building on the outskirts of London. And though it wasn’t a coaching inn, their carriage had plenty of room.

She waited as she knew she ought, and within a moment the footman opened the door and handed her out. She descended as she always imagined she would: with a liveried footman before her and a handsome man behind. She stepped out into the darkness, feeling her curls bob about her ears in the breeze. She shivered as it was not yet spring and her gown was too thin. But Lord Redhill was beside her in a moment, helping her adjust her wrap while shielding her from the wind with his body. And then together they stepped into the inn as stately as any couple could walk into a ballroom.

They were greeted at the door by the innkeeper, who did not look at all like a majordomo. He was of middle years and middle girth, but his smile was all welcome as he bowed before Lord Redhill.

“Everything is prepared, my lord. Even found the almonds, just like you said.”

Helaine felt her excitement surge. “Almonds? Truly? I’ve never had them, but my father said they were delightful. They’re from India, aren’t they? He discovered them at…oh.” Her voice trailed away when she finally remembered what her father had said about them. Almonds were an aphrodisiac, and he had learned about them in a brothel. She wasn’t supposed to know that, of course, but her father had been so far into his cups he hadn’t realized he was speaking to his young daughter.

“They are just a nut, my dear,” said his lordship, his voice and his words designed to soothe her. “A particular favorite of mine and delicious when roasted. I shall be pleased to see your very first taste.”

She flushed and looked away. Of course he was lying. Almonds must cost a fortune, and no man bought such a thing without hoping to make good use of their other properties. But she was spared the necessity of answering as they were ushered into a cozy room with a cheerful fire, a table laid out for two, and a long couch with large pillows. The innkeeper took her gloves and wrap and set them on the table nearby. Lord Redhill shed his outdoor attire as well, and then took her hand flesh to flesh while the innkeeper slipped discreetly away.

She knew she was trembling. Seeing the very cozy nature of this room, she knew she would end up in his arms before the evening’s end. But even as the idea shook her, a part of her was already justifying it. What harm would a kiss be? Or a few more? She was already ruined, so no harm at all, and nothing more than they had already done.

He escorted her to a seat by the fire. He did nothing untoward, not even stroking her palm, and yet her heart was beating so fast. She found it hard to catch her breath.

“Would you care for some more wine?” he asked as she made a valiant attempt to gather her wits.

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

He poured and brought them both glasses. He sat beside her on the couch and took a drink, closing his eyes as he appreciated the taste.

“Not exquisite, but not so bad either.” He opened his eyes to look at her, so she hastily took her own sip.

“Lovely,” she said, though she hadn’t tasted a thing.

He looked at her a long moment, then he sighed. “You are nervous, Helaine, and I don’t wish you to be. What can I do to help?”

He understood! She smiled warmly at him and took another long sip from her wine. And when she was done, she managed to look at his face and not think of much beyond
his beauty. He was a very handsome man in a very ordinary way. Nothing stood out, nothing made any part of his face more patrician or very angular. His nose was perfect for his face. His jawline firm without being harsh. And there was enough softness to make him appear relaxed, saving him from being too stern.

“You remind me of a stag I once saw,” she said abruptly. “He was in the distance, standing there looking out while his family grazed nearby. He had antlers out to…” She couldn’t even bridge the gap with her arms. “Well, anyway, they were huge. There was nothing unusual about the sight. We were forever seeing deer, so he was just the papa watching while his family ate. But he was stately, you understand, and powerful. I vow they were the happiest deer family in England. That is what you remind me of.”

He blinked at her words, obviously stunned. “I am at a loss,” he said. Then when she went to drink some more, he stopped her. His hand came around hers and he held the glass away from her mouth. “And I believe we should eat some dinner soon.”

She looked down at his hand, so large and so warm. He surrounded her wrist. He could likely break it just by squeezing his fingers. And yet, she never feared him. She could say that of no other man, not even her father. Sometimes when he got drunk, he could be violent. Not against people, but against the furniture, certainly. He used to throw the empty bottles. She’d learned early not to go anywhere near after he called for the third bottle.

“Do you ever drink to excess?” she asked as she looked at his hand.

“Depends on what you mean by excess. There were a few times when I was a stumbling drunk,” he said, “but that was many years ago now. Mostly it has been my sad task to call the carriages for my friends and to hold their heads while they…” He cleared his throat. “Well, you understand.”

She giggled. “Yes, I certainly understand. My father’s valet had that terrible task until he quit. My mother after that. Then no one at all.”

“Because he left?”

She nodded. “Because he left. But he was forever leaving, then turning up at the oddest times. I sometimes think I shall walk upstairs and find him sitting there, easy as you please, with a glass of brandy in his hand.”

“He sounds like an unsteady fellow.”

She snorted. “He was that and more. But he was charming, too, and he could always make me laugh.”

He smiled as if he understood. Too late, she realized that she was speaking too much, too freely. What dressmaker’s father had a valet? But then he was speaking and she became caught up in his words again.

“It’s easy to make little girls laugh,” he said. “When I came home from school, I used to spin my sister around such that her legs went flying. Or sometimes I’d wrap her in a bear hug of a greeting. She used to try to wriggle free, but I held on tight until she complained that she couldn’t breathe. But in truth, it was I who was breathless. Gwen doesn’t look it, but she has strength in her arms. I used to tell her she had muscles like a sailor.”

“You did not!”

“I most certainly did. I think that is why she has picked that baron of hers. He’s tall, but still scrawny. I think she could best him in a fight.”

Helaine recoiled in mock horror. “That’s terrible! To say such a thing of your sister.”

“Oh, but she’ll say it herself, you know. My sister is no shrinking violet, and caring for my mother is no easy task.”

“Is she bedridden, then?”

He nodded. “Sometimes. When the headaches are bad.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It has been this way since I was a child. My mother is frail; my sister is not.”

“Your father is a charming rogue, but you are not.”

He arched his brows. “Are you saying I am not charming?”

“I am saying you are not a rogue.” When he didn’t respond, she answered his unspoken question. “Yes, I have learned a
little about your father, the Earl of Willington. A jolly good fellow, by all accounts. Has the devil’s own luck turning investments around. Which means, I believe, that he buys terribly stupid things and yet you manage to make them profitable.”

He looked at her a long moment. “You are very well informed.”

“You told me as much when we first met. Plus, I am very good at listening to your sister. She is very fond of you.”

“Even if she calls me harsh and dictatorial.”

“Even so.”

“Humph,” he returned. And then there was no more talk as the innkeeper brought them their dinner. He laid it out: quail with a sweet glaze, potatoes split and swimming in butter, and winter apples cooked with a covering of sugar. It was a feast the likes of which she had only heard about but never seen, much less tasted. And when she looked back at Lord Redhill, he merely smiled as if he knew how much of a treat this meal would be for her.

“You said simple stew.”

He gestured to another bowl as the innkeeper set it on the table. He lifted the lid and the scent of a savory beef stew filled the room.

“Of course,” she laughed. “I should not have doubted you.”

The innkeeper ducked away while Lord Redhill took her hand and escorted her the two steps to the table. He held out her chair for her, poured her more wine, and then seated himself across from her.

“But where are the almonds?” she asked. Truly she didn’t really care. There was more than enough here to delight her for years to come. But she had to say something, and that was what came to mind.

“That is for after dinner,” he said. “For a snack if you are still hungry. If we talk for a very long time.”

“Ah,” she said, her gaze going to the fire. There was a very large space set out before the fireplace. Easy enough to set the pillows on the floor and lounge there. She had seen her father do so once. With a woman who should not have been in their home. Her gaze returned to Lord Redhill.

Could she do that with him? Lie in front of the fire and speak in low murmurs? Would he kiss her then? Would he caress her face? Would he touch something more?

“You have it all planned,” she said.

“I’m told that’s what I do best.”

“Yes,” she said, knowing that fear was not what was making her body flush with heat. “I’m sure it’s one of the very many things you do well.”

He opened his mouth as if to answer, but no words came out. A moment later he addressed himself to serving her food, dishing out one delicacy after another. He chatted companionably about this and that. He spoke of how he liked this dish prepared, he told her an amusing story of Gwen’s first introduction to quail, and he even delighted her with horrible tales of his food at school. In truth, she spent as much time laughing as she did eating.