A Bluestocking Christmas (29 page)

Another knock echoed in the room, and the maid entered with a breakfast tray. The smell of eggs and kippers drifted into the room, immediately making her feel queasy. The last thing she wanted to do at this moment was eat. It would be impossible to do anything at all until she knew Edward was free of Madame Chantrel’s grasp. Without hesitating, she walked toward the door.
 

“Where on earth are you going?” Louisa stopped Helen with a gentle tug of her arm. “You haven’t even eaten yet.”

“I’m sorry, but I must speak with his Lordship.”

“Of course, but Sebastian can wait.” Louisa dismissed her brother with a wave of hand, but Helen shook her head firmly.
 

“His Lordship might be willing to wait, but I cannot.”

 
“As you wish,” Louisa replied, eyebrows arched in curiosity. “But I must warn you, Sebastian is not someone you want to face on an empty stomach.”

The sincerity in Louisa’s voice made her hesitate. The earl was most certainly intimidating, but she’d faced far more daunting inquisitions from her uncle than anything the Earl of Melton could inflict on her. Edward’s visage entered her mind’s eye once more, and she responded with another firm shake of her head.
 

 
“No, I must speak with his Lordship now.”

“Very well,” Louisa nodded with a perplexed smile. “Beth, will you show Miss…”

“Rivenall,” Helen said when Louisa sent a questioning look in Helen’s direction.

“Show Miss Rivenall to the library, where I’m certain my brother is enjoying his morning paper.” As Helen followed the maid out of the room and down the hall, Louisa’s voice rang out behind her. “And remember, his bark is worse than his bite.”

Despite her deep concern for Edward’s safety, the puckish remark made Helen’s mouth curl upward slightly. Following Beth down the hallway, Helen heard the soft whisper of her dress against the carpet. The blue dress was lovelier than anything she’d ever worn. The two dresses she owned were threadbare and marked with darning. No. She no longer owned any dresses. Madame Chantrel had her clothes and Edward. Guilt lashed out at her like the whip her uncle owned. How could she even begin to take pleasure in the dress she wore, while her brother’s fate had yet to be determined. A shiver skimmed down her back. She could only hope the earl would help her a second time.

With the petite maid in the lead, they turned the corner of the hallway and moved down an impressive staircase. Melton House had a completely different air from Mayfield. The creamy colored walls were starkly different from the dark, oppressive interior of Uncle Warren’s house.
 

Even the ancestral portraits didn’t stare down at her with stern, critical eyes as they did at Mayfield. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Beth had reached the foot of the stairs, and she moved quickly to catch up with the girl. If the earl was as rigid as her uncle, she had no wish to be late for their appointment. She needed his help and that meant being as conciliatory as she could be.

Chapter 3

Sebastian tossed his morning newspaper aside, and leaned back in his chair. Fingers rubbing against his chin, he considered Caleb’s visit bright and early this morning. His brother was forcing his hand in how to deal with Chantrel’s establishment. Sebastian had intended to report his suspicions about the woman’s illegal actions to McBride this morning and go with the Inspector to the establishment this afternoon in his efforts to find Georgina.
 

While his brother agreed to give McBride until midday to answer Sebastian’s summons, Caleb had made it quite clear that he wouldn’t wait much past the noon hour to launch a rescue. Worse, Caleb had bluntly declared he would do whatever was necessary with or without Sebastian’s help. It left Sebastian no choice but to agree to his brother’s demands.
 

Sebastian understood his brother’s concern for Georgina. If they waited too long the girl could easily be hurt, perhaps worse. God help him if McBride didn’t arrive soon. Without the inspector, Sebastian’s only recourse would be to plan the woman’s rescue and inform the police after the fact. Damnation. Why couldn’t his family control their emotions like him?
 

He’d learned at an early age how to hold himself in check when it came to his impulsive nature. Unintentionally, his gaze swung to his mother’s portrait above the fireplace. Pain lanced its way through him as he remembered the sound of her laughter. If only he hadn’t— He buried the memory deep in his head as he picked up his discarded newspaper.
 

Frowning, he read the sensational headline
Terror in the East End.
The brutal second murder in Whitechapel had been fodder for the scandal sheets all week. They fed off this type of tragedy. He skimmed the article and frowned. Considering the barbaric manner the madman had butchered Annie Chapman, he needed to arrange for a few precautions.

Louisa would have to be told not to go anywhere without one of the footmen, and Sebastian would see to it the men were armed. Although the murdered woman had been a prostitute in an area far removed from Mayfair, Sebastian wasn’t willing to take chances with any of the women in his care. And that included Helen. The thought of his newly acquired charge made him close his eyes for a moment.

 
He’d slept little last night, and when he had finally fallen asleep, wild, erotic images of Helen entwined in his arms and riding him with wanton abandon had filled his dreams. With a groan, Sebastian leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk and clutch at his head.
 

Deeply ingrained, his self-control was a trait he valued and took great pride in. It was something he’d learned at an early age. But it had been years since anything had challenged his self-discipline with such intensity. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.
 

The impulsive nature of his siblings was something he’d learned to avoid at all costs. To find his self-imposed restraint tested so easily was troubling. How could one woman drive him to such distraction without having spoken one word to him? It was the most frustrating experience he’d encountered in a very long time.
 

God help him, but he needed to find a way out of this mess he’d gotten himself into. Focus, he needed to focus on where he could send her. He should have done something other than bring the woman here. But he’d not even considered the possibility last night. He’d been too intrigued by her to think of anything else. And if he were being honest, he didn’t want to send her anywhere. He wasn’t ready to give her up just yet. The confession tugged a dark groan from him.
 

Determined to send his thoughts in a new direction, Sebastian gritted his teeth and turned his attention to the mail lying on the table. Opening the envelope from the dressmaker, he grimaced at the total. Louisa had gone shopping again. He needed to give serious consideration to finding her a husband or he’d be in debtor’s prison before he was forty. With a sigh, he set the bill aside for his secretary to handle. The next envelope knotted his stomach as he recognized the familiar handwriting. Aunt Matilda.
 

With great reluctance, he opened the letter. Seconds later, he winced at his aunt’s announcement that she and his sisters would be returning to London sooner than expected. He thought he had another two months before she barreled through the front door intent on seeing him married off to one of the American heiresses so popular with the Prince of Wales.
 

Sebastian tossed the letter down onto the desk with a weary groan and slouched backward in his chair once more. There had to be some way to keep his aunt from hounding him on the subject of marriage. Of all the women he’d ever met, Aunt Matilda was the most logical and serene of creatures. She should
understand
his reasons for not marrying. He grimaced. She’d understand, but it wouldn’t stop her from parading potential brides in front of him.

Perhaps a lengthy stay on the continent would give him some respite from her badgering. No, that wouldn’t work. There’d be no one to ensure his siblings didn’t get into trouble during his absence. And knowing Aunt Matilda, she’d have a bride waiting for him at the dock the moment he returned. He frowned.
 

If there was any woman in the world who could manipulate him, it was Aunt Matilda. She could do so without him even recognizing it until it was too late. Whatever he intended to do to ward off her matchmaking schemes, he needed to do it quickly. The soft click of the library door opening jerked his head up.
 

She was here.

“Miss Rivenall, your lordship,” the maid announced.
 

Inhaling a deep breath, Sebastian rose from his chair, but remained silent as Helen entered the room. The blue dress she wore accented her curvaceous figure and full breasts. The memory of a dusky rose nipple made him dig his fingers into his palms. He had one of two choices. He could find somewhere else for Helen to live or he needed to find himself a mistress—quickly. One or the other. No, that wasn’t quite true. He had a third choice—but he wasn’t Templeton.

Content to watch her approach in silence, he noted the amazement flitting across her face as she studied the books lining the walls. Preoccupied with the shelves stocked with all manner of literature, she walked toward the fireplace as she surveyed the room. As he watched her, Sebastian noted the way her hand caressed the leather binding of a book on top of a stack he’d let pile up on a nearby table. The sudden overwhelming desire for that hand to touch him in the same way made him stiffen and clear his throat.

 
“Since you’re walking, I can assume the sweet vitriol has worn off, or are you still unable to speak?”
 

Helen immediately jerked around to face him, and he grimaced at the immediate regret he experienced. Determined to regain his self-control, Sebastian reached for the pocket watch he always carried. He barely glanced at it before he snapped it shut and tucked it back into his waistcoat. Sebastian’s gaze returned to Helen’s face as he studied her for a long moment.
 

She was tall for a woman, but even from where he stood, he knew he towered over her by at least a foot. Helen’s gaze swept over him, and he could see the appraisal in her gaze. Suddenly uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of such a detailed assessment, Sebastian arched an eyebrow at her. Helen immediately blushed as color darkened her cheeks. She looked adorable. He was a fool. Muscles pulled painfully tight in his face, he struggled to keep his expression from revealing his thoughts.

“Is the drug still affecting your tongue?” Sebastian tried not to wince at the harshness of his tone. Anger flashed in her blue eyes before she averted her gaze
 

“I am fully capable of speech this morning, my lord.”

 
“Excellent. Last night, our conversation was a bit one-sided, but I did manage to learn that your given name is Helen, and from the maid’s announcement a few moments ago, I gather your last name is Rivenall.”
 

He rounded the desk and walked toward her. The moment she took a quick step backward, he came to an abrupt halt. Damnation, he didn’t mean to scare the woman. But then considering what she’d been through could he really expect her not to be a little afraid? The only thing she knew about him was that he’d bought her in an auction and brought her home with him. Not a good way to build trust. Helen’s eyed him warily, her expression wavering between her desire to keep her distance and something else.

“My lord, I must know what you’ve done about Edward.” The frantic note in Helen’s voice that made Sebastian frown.
 

“Edward?”

“My brother. Edward. I was hoping you’d secured his freedom from Madame Chantrel just as you did me.”

“Since I didn’t even know you had a brother until this moment, how in the blue blazes could I do anything?” Exasperation edged Sebastian’s tension up another notch. What the hell had he gotten himself into? The last thing he needed was for Melton House to become a home for foundlings.
 

“But last night…in the carriage. I said Edward’s name. It’s one of the few things I do remember.”

“I can assure you, Miss Rivenall, no sane person would have been able to interpret the name Edward out of that garbled noise you made.” Indignation made his answer sharper than he intended, and for a second time regret surged through him as she flinched.
 

 
“I can’t leave him there,” she murmured as if speaking her thoughts out loud. “I have to go back for him.”

“That’s one thing you won’t do.” His command made her lift her head in a clear gesture of defiance. Gone was the demure woman who’d entered the library. In her place was a woman filled with determination. He held back a groan. Helen’s expression was a familiar one. Whenever one of his sisters stubbornly refused to give way, he knew a battle was at hand.
 

“I refuse to leave my brother in the hands of that woman,” she snapped.

“Miss Rivenall, your freedom cost me two thousand pounds last night, and I have no desire to pay for your freedom a
second
time. You will not go back to that brothel.”
 

“Two thousand pounds?” Helen stared up at him in shock.

“Yes,” Sebastian bit out with irritation. The woman had no comprehension of the danger she’d be putting herself into if she tried to go back to Chantrel’s for her brother.