Читать книгу Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 2 - Elizabeth Rolls - Страница 19

‘I hope you have not simply brought me out here so we might bicker.’

‘You may rest assured that arguing with you was the last thing on my mind.’

‘Well, that is good news, at least,’ Helen said with constrained levity as they proceeded towards the railing enclosing a moon-dappled terrace. Her demeanour became again quite serious. ‘I beg you will let me first thank you for helping Philip. Had you not done so … well, I am aware that Charlotte’s marriage to him would still be a distant dream.’ She gazed up at Jason; although his expression was veiled by shadow, she was conscious of his potent allure. ‘Whatever happens between us,’ she said huskily, ‘I would just like you to know that I will always be grateful to you for that.’

A mere dip of his dark head acknowledged her thanks.

Helen turned to look out over the darkling gardens, her small hands gripping the iron balustrade. ‘Did you put in a good word for Philip with George, too? Our brother seems very different towards him.’

Jason leaned on the railing close to her and stared up at the sparkling stars. ‘What help I’ve given is Philip’s due: a favour to right a wrong done to his family by mine. My great-grandfather caused the rift between the Hunters and the Goodes when he stole the wife of one of Philip’s kin some sixty years ago.’

‘But …’

‘Hush, Helen,’ Jason said softly. ‘Your sister is happy; my cousin is happy. There’s no reason to analyse how it all came about.’

Helen again started to speak, but he interrupted her with, ‘You look very stylish this evening.’

Helen brushed a gloved hand over the sleek lavender satin of her skirt. It was the first time he had seen her well groomed since she was a child. Oddly she felt piqued rather than pleased by his compliment. She rested her slender hips against iron, boldly facing him. ‘Why, thank you, sir,’ she said with acid sweetness and arranged her gossamer shawl about her shoulders. ‘I suppose I ought to have warned you that I do brush up quite well.’

A grunt of laughter preceded, ‘Indeed you do. I never doubted it for a moment.’ He watched her from beneath lazy lids. ‘You always look delectable. But it is the first time in a long while I’ve seen you in a pretty dress.’ He raised a hand to gently cup her sharp little chin. ‘I have just one small criticism to make …’ A pin was eased from her glossy coiffure and an ebony curl spiralled slowly on to a milky shoulder. ‘I like your hair loose …’

Helen gasped and attempted to snatch back the pin to anchor the ringlet again into place. But Jason was not done ruining her careful toilette. A thumb leisurely traced over her soft lips. ‘And you don’t need artifice,’ he murmured. ‘Besides, it’s likely to arouse suspicion if I go back inside sporting rouge.’

‘Jason, you mustn’t … someone might come …’

An imprisoning arm settled either side of her and Jason brought his head inexorably closer. His mouth tracked hers until, done with half-hearted evasion, Helen turned to him of her own volition. Her lips parted and her eyelids drooped in languid anticipation. After a moment, when all she could sense was his body warming hers and a lemon scent enveloping her, she flicked a glance up at him. She understood the demand in his searing look and immediately complied by going up on tiptoe. About to press her soft lips against the hard contours of his mouth, a bark of laughter made her jump. Immediately one of his hands moved to rest, cool and confident against the silk of her jaw, encouraging her to stay still.

But the moment was lost. Helen jerked back against the balcony whilst peering anxiously in the direction of the doors that opened into the drawing room. Laughter erupted again, sounding disturbingly close. Jason’s splendid waistcoat received a little thump as Helen attempted escaping to a respectable distance.

Having first cursed beneath his breath, Jason murmured, ‘I’ve missed seeing you.’ He pushed himself back from the railing, allowing her liberty.

‘Indeed? You know where I live,’ Helen tartly rejoined whilst keeping a vigilant eye on the moving figures she could glimpse between the stirring edges of the curtains.

A smile tugged at one side of his thin mouth. ‘That encourages me to think that you’ve missed seeing me, too.’ It was stated with an amount of throaty satisfaction.

Helen bit back the spontaneous denial that had sprung to her tongue. There was no point in acting the coquette. He didn’t bother with flirting; she imagined he might also be out of patience with women who feigned indifference to him. With that thought in mind she blurted, ‘I was expecting to hear a while ago that you had made certain arrangements. Have you been too busy to give much thought to it?’

‘I’ve thought of little else.’

Helen’s eyes soared swiftly to his face. ‘Is it all finalised?’

‘Why do you want to continue with something that you fear will damage your self-respect?’

Helen was momentarily stunned into silence by his acuity. Then briskly she said, ‘I think you presume to know too much about me. If you think I will cry wolf once you have gone to the trouble and expense, I can assure you I will not. I promise you I am at ease with our … new relationship.’

‘Are you?’ Jason said drily. ‘Well, I am not sure that I am.’

‘You don’t really want me at all, do you?’

He gave a grunt of harsh laughter. ‘If that were true it would solve a lot of problems.’

‘Then why are you delaying …?’

‘I’m flattered by your impatience, my dear. But you did promise not to nag me, Helen,’ he drawled in mild rebuke.

Regret and humiliation swept over Helen. She had obviously made herself sound like a shrew as well as a desperate wanton. A cool hand flew to a flaming cheek to gauge how obvious was her mortification.

Jason understood the gesture and with a low imprecation enclosed a fragile wrist with long fingers to draw her comfortingly close.

Helen immediately flung him off. ‘If this is a game to you, sir, it is not to me,’ she hissed in a low breath. ‘If you are content with just Mrs Tucker as your mistress, you only have to say …’

‘I want you, dammit, and you know it,’ he gritted out in immediate response.

Helen sent a startled look at him, then at the French doors, but it seemed that the people who had stationed themselves just inside had moved away.

‘So again I have answered all your questions,’ he said with harsh self-mockery. ‘I certainly think it’s time you answered mine.’

Helen nervously laced her fingers, then just as quickly jerked them apart. ‘Very well,’ she burst out. ‘I shall start by saying that I suspect you find awkward this unforeseen aspect to my character. I am no longer the innocent child you once knew. I suspect also that you would rather I had not propositioned you at all. But I have, and I do not regret it.’ Helen gazed boldly at him before her tawny eyes swept away to the velvety blue horizon. A scudding cloud made hazy the moon, deepening the dusk. ‘I know our families once were close. My father liked you and was upset when you and George were no longer friends. Perhaps you think that because I am of gentle birth I ought to find a genteel solution to being poor. I expect your conscience would be easier if I were to support myself by finding respectable employment, and apply to be a governess or a companion to a lonely lady. Perhaps I might find a position in a shop.’

Having listed out her prospects, she swallowed and turned to him. ‘The truth is, I do not want to do those things. I have had a husband who cherished me and, although we had little money, I had my own household. Even before then I kept house for my papa from when I turned seventeen. In short, I have long been my own mistress, and now I would rather be yours than be despised as inferior by employers who are no better than me.’ She clutched again at the railing and watched the silver disc shed its fleecy coat. Her wistful face became bathed in milky light. ‘So, you see, my self-respect is more under threat from being good than being bad.’

‘I’m the lesser of two evils.’

Helen frowned her regret at the horizon. She had not at all intended that it would sound that way, but, in essence, it was true.

Having read her answer from her expression, Jason swung away. He threw back his head to contemplate the stars, and whether to make light of the blow to his ego. But the poignancy in her quiet reflection had subdued him, made him feel churlish for even considering using flippancy to disguise his wounded pride. How much greater would have been the damage to Helen’s self-worth had those fears she’d confided been realised. She had not lied or exaggerated in what she’d described might be her future. Many young women who were poor relations endured just such a miserable existence, sometimes at the hands of their own kin. A sudden surge of hatred for George swayed Jason on his feet.

He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked at her for a long moment. ‘You need not resort to being bad, or to being employed, Helen.’ With just a hint that she would welcome his proposal he would ask her now to be his wife.

Helen swirled about to face him. ‘What would you have me do then, sir?’ she snapped with subdued volume. ‘You know very well that George has squandered our allowance and is heavily in debt. Would you have me transfer the burden of my keep to my new brother-in-law? He already has his mother and sister depending on him. I need not beg for a home, I know the offer will be freely given. But Philip and Charlotte deserve their privacy and their honeymoon years. I will not live with them.’ It was a vehement statement that brought a sheen of tears to her eyes.

Helen swallowed the ache in her throat. ‘And before you offer it, I do not want your charity. But again I must thank you for your concern. You have recently provided more for Charlotte and me than has our own brother.’

‘You ought to marry,’ Jason stated more roughly than he intended. ‘Harry Marlowe would want what is best for you.’

Helen nodded, a faraway look in her topaz eyes. ‘Yes, he would,’ she dulcetly agreed. ‘And Harry would know that a loveless marriage is not right for me. I would far sooner have my independence and my widow status than a roof over my head and a lifetime of disappointment with a husband who remains a stranger.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘Do not fret for my virtue and try to find someone to make an honest woman of me.’ A little chuckle escaped her. ‘Harry used to say I was too romantic and not nearly practical enough. And so I was.’ She glanced at Jason. ‘He would be quite amazed at how reversed are now those traits.’

‘And what became of your romantic nature?’ Jason asked quietly.

Helen cocked her head to one side and held out her hands before her, slowly intertwining her slender fingers. ‘Oh, I am still a romantic on occasions …’ A sweetly shy smile flitted to him. ‘Have you not noticed how enchanted I am by Charlotte’s betrothal? She has the most wonderful engagement ring … rubies and diamonds, and soon we will shop for her trousseau and discuss a wedding breakfast and flowers and so on …’ She absently rotated her plain gold wedding band. ‘Oh, there is still a lot to enjoy that is wonderfully romantic.'Aware suddenly of a quiet protracting between them, Helen neared him and looked calmly into his eyes. ‘I have told the truth. Has it put you off having me as your mistress?’

‘No.’

She smiled up at him, marvelling again at how extraordinarily handsome he was. ‘We have been honest in the past. I like being able to speak plainly to you. I was not nagging you earlier, it is just …’

‘You don’t want me to ruin your plan.’

‘And will you?’

‘Of course not.’ He smiled at her before dipping his head and taking her mouth in a swift, hard kiss.

Helen was still reeling from that bruising assault when he said, ‘At least you consider me the devil it’s better to know. I’m not sure everyone would agree with you.’

Helen looked earnestly up into his dark, long-lashed eyes. ‘I do not think you a devil at all,’ she said with husky sincerity. ‘You have been considerate and kind and it will certainly be no hardship to—’ She broke off, aware of being a word away from reassuring him with indelicate candour.

‘Go on …’ He turned her face up to his with relentlessly firm fingers. ‘We speak plainly … don’t we?’

‘It will be no hardship to be intimate with you … to sleep with you.’ It was uttered almost defiantly and she boldly held his gaze. ‘You are not a repugnant character or physically ugly. In fact, you are quite handsome, as I’m sure you know.’ She felt her cheeks warming beneath the sudden glint of humour in his eyes and whipped about her head to frown at the moon.

‘Thank you, Helen, for that compliment. And you are quite beautiful, as I’m sure you know. There … in one respect we make the perfect couple,’ he remarked drily. ‘I think that the theatre or Vauxhall Gardens is probably the best place for our first outing together. Have you a preference?’

Helen swiftly shook her head and murmured, ‘No.’

‘I’ll send you a note detailing what I’ve arranged,’ Jason said. ‘I’ve taken a house on the outskirts of Chelsea that I think you will like. We will finish the evening there, if you’re agreeable. I imagine you would want to return to Westlea House and not leave your sister alone at night?’

Helen nodded and chewed her lower lip before sending him a wavering smile. ‘It would be best if we are very discreet about our times there, at least until after Charlotte is married and moves in with Philip. I would not want her to be shunned should it all leak out.’

‘Of course.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I think it’s time we went inside.’ Jason extended a hand to her; their progress towards the French doors was timely, for a couple strolled out. Mr and Mrs Bond were neighbours of the Goodes and they exchanged a few words about the happy occasion before Helen and Jason continued into the drawing room. Without another word passing between them, Jason led Helen towards her sister and ten minutes later politely took his leave.

‘What in damnation is he doing here?’

Iris swung her blonde head towards her husband, then followed the direction of his astonished glower. ‘I invited him.’ It was a brisk response, for her china blue eyes had returned to a more fascinating sight than Colin Bridgeman’s late arrival at Charlotte’s engagement party.

Some fifteen minutes ago Iris had noticed Jason and Helen go to the terrace. She had imagined he was simply being courteous, for Helen had the appearance of being flushed and in need of a little air. But now they were back inside and Helen seemed the opposite of refreshed. Slashes of pink were more vividly highlighting her cheekbones and her eyes were extraordinarily bright. Not only that, her new hairstyle looked in disarray, with tendrils draping about her face. Iris was an expert in the art of covert dalliance in company and could easily spot the signs that betrayed when others had indulged.

Iris narrowed her eyes on Helen’s distinguished escort. Of course, Jason seemed unruffled … as ever he did. Iris pursed her lips—insufferable thoughts were pricking at her mind. Had the skinny little drab managed something she so far had failed to achieve and hooked the ton’s most charismatic rake? It seemed too incredible to contemplate one moment longer and yet. Helen was a needy widow. Iris looked back to her sister-in-law to make a thorough female assessment. A fierce glint fired in her eyes: the conclusion to which she came was that Helen had the radiant aplomb of a woman who had just secured a wealthy protector.

‘You invited Bridgeman to Charlotte’s betrothal party? Why, in God’s name?’

George’s angry demand interrupted Iris’s agitated thoughts. ‘I deemed it the least I could do,’ she exploded in exasperation. ‘You virtually implied Colin could have Charlotte as his wife. It is best we smooth things over with him. We do not want to lose his friendship.’

‘I do,’ George said with sour significance. ‘You have so many friends, my dear … all gentlemen. Surely you could lose just the one?’ George looked past his wife’s shoulder to see that the unwanted guest appeared to be making his way relentlessly towards them.

Colin Bridgeman was about George’s age, but there ended all similarity. Bridgeman was of average height, fair of complexion with sandy hair. George was tall and swarthy. Colin was thin and favoured peacock colours whereas George was beginning to spread about the middle and dressed quite conservatively.

George had never really liked Colin, but they were old acquaintances and, with few friends between them, he was a ready companion when no better was to be had. Before George married they had gone roistering about town. Now more sedate pastimes of dice and cards, or taking a tipple, drew them together at the clubs.

When he turned thirty, Colin had taken a sizeable inheritance from his grandfather’s trust. But years of having little in his pockets had left him close-fisted. Then, recently, George had unexpectedly found a way to prise apart Bridgeman’s fingers, and in doing so he had opened a can of worms.

When Colin offered to forward him a loan to keep the duns at bay … and a little in reserve … in return for permission to pay court to Charlotte, George had thought it perfectly acceptable. He was even pleased to think that Colin’s approach meant he had not taken offence at having had rejected his quite reasonable offer for Westlea House. Had Jason Hunter not offered handsomely for the property, Colin would be the new owner.

Now George wished he had not taken a penny piece of the man’s cash. He would not have done so, he commiserated with himself, had it not seemed that Charlotte’s swain was destined to remain a pauper. George had no real wish to see his young sister unhappy, but neither had he any intention of continuing to support her financially. He therefore had decided to be practical. It had occurred to George, and had been an added incentive, that were Bridgeman to marry a woman younger and prettier, his wife might be abandoned by her latest conquest.

In that affair, George exonerated Colin. He had come to accept that it was his wife who instigated her liaisons. Once he would have denied such knowledge, finding it humiliating and distressing. George watched his wife simpering as her paramour came closer and suddenly realised he no longer cared very much what she did.

On the strength of the two men soon becoming brothers-in-law George had thus accepted substantial financial assistance. Rushing to lay hands on the cash, he had heedlessly signed the contract before properly checking the clauses. Now he knew that the rate of interest charged to him was extortionate; not only that, but the loan was also repayable on demand. And he had just that morning received such a demand: Bridgeman wanted his money immediately returned with interest.

Had he realised the precarious position he would land himself in, he would not have given Philip Goode his permission to marry Charlotte. But Jason had made it clear that Philip had his patronage and was destined for success. George might not like Jason, but he was one of the ton’s most influential and affluent gentlemen. He had happily pondered on being showered with plaudits for being canny enough to welcome a wolf in sheep’s clothing into the family.

George scowled to himself as he saw his young sister laughing with her future husband. Goode might be destined for success, but he seemed destined for disaster! If he could not pacify Bridgeman and wheedle a little time to pay, he might yet find himself languishing in gaol….

‘The blushing bride-to-be looks exceptionally charming this evening.’

George gave a well-feigned start as he turned to Bridgeman. ‘Colin … there you are …’

‘Of course, here I am. I’m sure any betrothal party is not complete without the jilted fiancé putting in an appearance.’

George noted his wife wince at that sarcasm and swiftly steered Colin away a few paces. ‘Now steady on, Bridgeman,’ he hissed. ‘No such arrangements were ever properly made. God’s teeth! You didn’t even call on Charlotte once.’

‘Not for want of trying. Whenever I said I was ready to pay a visit, you told me to wait for your instruction on it. Then you instructed me she was to marry this whippersnapper.’ He cast a derisive look in the direction of Philip Goode.

‘Her choice, Colin; her choice,’ George sighed out. ‘A brother can’t interfere with the workings of a sister’s tender heart.’

‘That’s not what you said in Hyde Park when you dragged her home and sent the boy off with a flea in his ear,’ Colin reminded him acidly. He gave George an estimating look. ‘I would say it has more to do with his cousin’s money than anything else. You prefer Hunter’s coin to mine, just as you did with Westlea House. So be it,’ he snapped. ‘Give me back mine, together with the interest you owe, and we’ll say no more about it.’

George blanched. ‘I will repay it as soon as I can, you know that.’

‘That might not be soon enough,’ Colin said with a gleam of malice darkening his eyes. ‘I want it by noon tomorrow or I’ll have you dunned.’ He cast a look towards where Helen and Charlotte stood centrally within a group of friends. ‘Of course, you have more than one sister … perhaps we may yet find a solution …’

George gulped and Colin’s profile received a drop-jawed look. ‘Helen? You want to marry Helen instead?'As he digested that thought, his features relaxed into a wondrous smile.

‘Marry her? I don’t think so. She’s past her prime and a might too spirited for what’s nice in a wife. But I’ll be happy to take her to bed and pay for the privilege.’