A Home for Helena (The Lady P Chronicles Book 2) (11 page)

“You mustn’t frighten them,” James cautioned as the girls shrieked with pleasure and started running toward the exotic birds. “Walk slowly and watch from a distance, and perhaps one will spread its tail for you.”

He and Helena walked around the park side by side, enjoying the beauty and keeping an eye on Annabelle and Theo, but otherwise saying very little. Finally, James broke into the silence.

“The grounds are beautiful, are they not?”

“Indeed they are,” Helena agreed. “I can’t imagine how many gardeners must be employed to maintain it all.” Suddenly afraid that he would mention her error with the maze, she inquired about the gardens at Melbourne Manor… and then wished she had not, when he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“You must come and see them for yourself, Miss Lloyd. They are nothing to this, of course—I have neither fortune nor expectation of such, but I was able to add a second gardener last year, and they have done a creditable job rescuing it from the weeds.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Do you have a passion for gardening, then?”

“Not at all,” she said with a chuckle. “I grew up in a small town. We had potted plants and such, but my mother was the one with green fingers. I tried to keep up with them during her long illness, but it seems as though plants turn brown and die when they see me coming.”

He cocked his head and studied her intently. “You have a most unusual manner of speaking, Miss Lloyd. It’s not just because you’re American. There’s something quite peculiar about you.”

Helena flushed. “I’m sorry—“ she began, but he stopped and turned to face her.

“Don’t,” he said, tipping her chin up to force her eyes to meet his. “I’m beginning to find it quite charming.”

Helena wondered if he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Was he about to kiss her? She started to lean forward and then—

A crack of thunder brought them both to their senses. The skies above had turned dark and unfriendly, and Helena felt a drop trick down her nose.

“We’d best find the children,” she said shakily. “It’s likely to rain cats and dogs at any moment.”

James burst into laughter. “Indeed, Miss Lloyd. I shouldn’t want to sully my best coat with animal hair.”

He took her arm and they hastened to collect the children and prepare for the short journey home.

T
he heavy rain
slapping against the windows did not seem to diminish the girls’ excitement even one iota, thought James as he leaned back against the squabs of the carriage. Mrs. Wykeham had invited them to return in two weeks when her grandchildren were due for a visit before the eldest, a girl around Emily’s age, had to return to school, and she thought they would enjoy becoming acquainted with the Newsome children during their visit. The girls were eager to continue their exploration of the vast castle grounds, and Mrs. Wykeham had said they might visit the new ballroom if the decorations were complete by then. She intended to host a small ball for the local gentry in late summer, and she insisted that James and Helena be among the guests.

James glanced at Helena, who had been suspiciously quiet and withdrawn since their almost-kiss in the Wood Gardens. He knew he should be grateful for the interruption—what
was
he thinking to allow his physical desires to get the better of him?—but now he found himself wondering what would have happened had the thunder not drawn them apart at the crucial moment. She’d seemed receptive, and he thought he’d seen desire in her intriguing green eyes. How would it feel to touch her lips with his and hold her close in his arms? Run his fingers over the tops of her breasts showing above the lacy bodice of her muted yellow carriage dress? Would she moan with pleasure when he deepened the kiss and ran his hands through her tawny hair?

Bloody hell! What
was
he thinking? She was his daughter’s governess, for God’s sake, and a guest of the neighbors, not a tavern wench, there for the taking. Marriage would be the price for having her, and he was certainly not ready to take on a ball and chain. Not after the disaster of his first marriage, and now that he thought on it, there was something about Miss Lloyd that reminded him of Anne. He couldn’t put his finger on it; perhaps it had something to do with his powerful attraction to her.

Still, he was older and wiser now, and he knew better than to be led by his cock. Anne’s death in the prime of her life was his fault, since he’d been unable to make her happy. Should he ever marry again, it would be an arrangement of convenience, with no expectation of love or passion. It certainly would not be with a lady of questionable origins with some mysterious agenda he had yet to discover. Particularly not since his attraction to her made him forget all of his good intentions.

And yet, he couldn't help imagining the feel of her body against him as they waltzed across Mrs. Wykeham’s new ballroom. Would she tremble at his touch as he guided them across the floor? Would her hair smell of lavender or roses when he breathed it in from their close proximity to each other? Would her eyes sparkle with desire when she looked up at him? What would she taste like were he to bend down and touch his lips to hers?

As a result of his inability to control his imaginings, he deliberately avoided her gaze during the return trip, and only gave her a brief nod as she and her charges departed the carriage at Newsome Grange.

But he still found himself missing the lively banter between Miss Lloyd and her charges, even after he'd returned to Melbourne Manor and set himself down at his desk to work on estate matters.

What
was
it about Helena Lloyd that prevented him from dismissing her from his mind?

T
he days following
the trip to Leeds Castle went exceedingly slow for Helena. The schoolroom kept her busy, especially at first as she scrambled to assemble an appropriate curriculum for the girls. She’d never meant to be a teacher; her job as an
au pair
had been more in the way of an opportunity to travel to London and satisfy the vague urge she had to explore the historical treasures there. And while she adored the three girls in her charge and enjoyed both teaching them
and
being taught by them about the time period and many, many other things—she still yearned to find Home.

There were times—particularly in her dreams—when the enigmatic man in the portrait she'd left behind seemed to be claiming her for his own. No doubt that was why she felt drawn to the physical James Walker whenever she was near him. But she'd come her to find her home, her origins. Not to find a husband, however attractive. The last thing she wanted to do was to get side-tracked into a love affair. Which is why she was impatient to hear from Lady Pendleton. Would the new governess be arriving soon so that Helena could return to London to continue on her quest? What had Her Ladyship learned about Helena's origins during her absence? Lady Sarah had mentioned her mother going on a jaunt somewhere up north, but there was no indication that it had anything to do with Helena. It was maddening.

Of all the children, it was the motherless Annabelle who had most of all begun to wind her way into Helena’s heart. Not the studious sort, she became restless after too much time in the schoolroom. Helena interspersed lessons with several “recess” periods during the day, where they would explore the grounds and, if it was a very fine day, have lessons outside under a shade tree. When it rained—as it frequently did—they would skip rope or do what Helena hoped was a nineteenth century version of jazzercise on the roofed terrace.

Without the music, of course. In addition to the Internet and all its wonders, Helena missed having music at her fingertips. How incredibly annoying to have to create your own music! If-when she returned to the future, she vowed never to take such things for granted ever again.

Annabelle was eager to please in the classroom, boasting that her father had promised to take her to Astley’s Amphitheatre in London. She looked forward to her father’s visits—he'd been coming to take her riding nearly every morning before breakfast if the weather was fine—and she always returned breathless and laughing, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She didn’t have a mother, poor thing, but it seemed as though her father was making valiant efforts to compensate.

As for his manner toward Helena, he seemed to be avoiding her, his greeting limited to curt nods when their paths crossed. She tried not to be disappointed—hadn’t she decided against a romance with him, after all? But it was lowering to realize that he’d come to the same conclusion, even without knowing her secret.

As far as day-to-day living was concerned, Helena found herself adjusting fairly quickly to the nineteenth century lifestyle. The short corset she wore in the country wasn’t much more confining than an underwire bra, and while she toyed with the idea of requesting to have a shower installed instead of the huge tin tub, she was pretty sure such a request from a governess would be considered presumptuous. And what she wouldn’t give for a hair dryer! Still, she had Izzy to help her dry her hair in front of the fireplace, and Izzy was a nifty hair stylist too, so she found little to complain about. While she couldn’t say for sure that she’d want to remain in that time period, she didn’t feel the future pulling her back either. Her life was just so terribly uncertain.

She dined each evening with Sir Henry and Lady Sarah in the dining room while the children ate in the nursery with Leah and Fanny, the nursery maids. Occasionally Sir Henry would remain a while longer after dinner to smoke his cheroot and drink port while the ladies adjourned to the drawing room, but more often he would accompany them. The Newsomes were an affectionate couple, Helena was glad to see. They smiled into each other’s eyes a great deal, and greeted each other with warm touches and embraces. One evening after dinner while Sir Henry lounged in the dining room, Helena asked to hear their story.

Lady Sarah smiled and sighed deeply as she reminisced. “It was my first Season, and I’d been to balls and routs and musical evenings, all teeming with eligible young men, but I couldn’t see myself married to any of them. They were either too young and immature or had rakish reputations or drank too much. I was the youngest of Mama’s daughters; I knew she was eager to see me wed, but to her credit, she never tried to push me into accepting one of them.”

“Was Lady P’s marriage to your father a love match?” Helena asked.

Lady Sarah laughed. “I’m not sure what it was in the beginning, but by the time I made my appearance, they had definitely become devoted to each other. They were very different, of course. My father came from a long line of Tories and my mother was a secret Whig—she was a friend of the Cavendishes, you know; she often attended the salons at Devonshire House. Papa pretended he didn’t know, but he wasn’t the tyrannical sort who would forbid her to do anything, so I think it served him well to allow her to follow her own conscience in such matters.”

She lowered her eyes and swallowed. “I think it was his death that led her to Madame Herne’s shop. Papa was gone and we were all married and out of the house as well, and although we begged her to come stay with us, she felt so alone after that. I do worry when she dabbles in this time travel business—what if she finds herself unable to return?—but Mama does what she wishes. Always has and always will, I expect.”

She darted a look at Helena. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean—that is, I know you are a time traveler as well—“

Helena grinned. “Don’t apologize. I’m sure I would feel the same way in your place. I wouldn’t be here myself were it not for the infamous Madame Herne. Of course, I adore your mother; I don’t know what I should have done without her, arriving as I did, inappropriately dressed, with no money and very little practical knowledge of this era.”

Lady Sarah pursed her lips in thought. “This era? It seems odd to think of it that way, and yet I can understand that is the way you must think of it—and of us, living in this time.” She shook her head. “In all frankness, I must admit to a certain fascination with the idea of traveling back and forth in time. Imagine meeting Henry VIII or Julius Caesar—“

“What is this?” boomed Sir Henry as he strode through the door. “Surely you couldn’t be thinking of leaving me, my love? Certainly not for a pair of philandering—dead—monarchs!”

He clasped his lady’s hands in his and looked down at her with warm affection. “I shan’t let them have you, not for the richest treasure—not even for the beauteous Cleopatra!”

He pulled her out of her chair and kissed her soundly. Helena watched, fascinated. Sir Henry knew his wife would never leave him. They loved each other as no other couple Helena had ever seen. Perhaps love matches weren’t as uncommon as she’d been led to believe.

“I was just telling Miss Lloyd about our courtship,” Lady Sarah said, as she sat next to her husband on a nearby settee, their hands still firmly clasped together. Her cheeks were flushed, Helena noted.

“Oh? Did you tell her I rescued you from that boring old duke who kept treading on your feet on the dance floor?”

She swatted at him playfully. “The Duke of Haverhill is no older than you, and a great deal richer besides!”

“You weren’t the sort of girl who would settle for mere riches—even with a coronet in the picture. I knew that at once—just as I knew you were the one for me when I first saw you staring at me from your box at the opera.”

She snorted. “Fiddlesticks! It was
you
staring at
me
, and you know it!"

He cocked his head and looked at her fondly. “Upon reflection, I would say the attraction was mutual, was it not, my love?”

She looked at him with stars in her eyes. “It was,” she admitted. Then she started, as if recalling Helena’s presence in the room. “I just knew he was the one for me, although my mother wasn’t so sure. I rather think she liked the idea of having a duke for a son-in-law. But when she saw the way it was for us… she gave up that dream and replaced it with the challenge of planning the wedding of the century.”

Sir Henry shook his head. “But she made it very clear to me that I should make her daughter happy or else regret it the rest of my days.” He shrugged helplessly at Helena. “My mother-in-law may not appear to be a formidable woman, but I had no doubt then—nor do I now—that she would follow through on such a threat, were I to disappoint her daughter.”

“What luck that you live to make me happy!” teased his wife. “Otherwise keeping such a pledge would prove to be a dreadful bore.”

Helena could see that the two of them needed to be alone, so she excused herself and went to bed. It was hard not to be envious of the relationship shared by her employers. She’d never seen anything like it, not in all the foster homes she’d inhabited, and certainly not with Mrs. Lloyd, who had always been content with her lot as a widow and single mother. To find it in 1817, before women’s rights, when women were legally the
property
of men just seemed extraordinary to her.

Would she ever find a soul mate of her own? The image of James Walker’s face flickered through her mind, and she kept trying to force it out until finally sleep claimed her.

F
or the umpteenth time
, James frowned and wondered why he had decided to accompany Miss Lloyd and the children to Leeds Castle to meet Mrs. Wykeham’s grandchildren. While he considered begging off, a second invitation had arrived, this time for the Summer’s End Ball Mrs. Wykeham was hosting to celebrate the progress of the completion of the renovations to the castle. He could not refuse the second without offending his good friend and neighbor, and in the end, he’d made a rash decision to accept them both and prove to himself that he was immune to the charms of the tempting and enigmatic Miss Lloyd.

But from his first glimpse of her in her lime green carriage dress with the printed yellow pelisse and matching bonnet, he realized he’d been deceiving himself. To make matters worse, she and Annabelle seemed to have developed a special bond. It wasn’t a complete surprise to him, since Annabelle talked non-stop about Miss Lloyd when he met her for their morning rides, but seeing them together confirmed his suspicion. It wasn’t as though Miss Lloyd showed Annabelle any favoritism—she laughed and chatted with the other girls in her charge as well—but it was the way Annabelle sought her hand first of any but his own, and the warmth in their eyes as they smiled at each other. While he liked to see his daughter happy, he wasn’t sure he approved of her partiality to this woman who haunted his dreams. It was almost like fate was setting things in motion for him that he wasn't ready for. In any case, this woman had secrets.

For one thing, she wasn't like any governess he knew, not with the stylish clothes or the playful tone she employed with the children. A governess was supposed to be stern and disciplined and wear somber clothing in keeping with her position. Of course, Miss Lloyd was American, but he suspected that American governesses weren't much different from English ones. In any case, the fact that Miss Lloyd's numerous eccentricities were constantly blamed on her nationality was in itself suspicious. However, he couldn't conceive of any reason for the deception. A spy would surely try to keep a low profile, wouldn't she? He stifled a grin at the improbability of Miss Lloyd being a spy. He'd noticed she had a tendency to blurt things out that she later regretted.

The other concern he had was that Miss Lloyd's position was only temporary. He didn't like the idea of Annabelle's heart being broken when the time came for her to leave. Not so soon after Miss Dray. Why was Lady Pendleton taking so long to replace her? Peculiar in her ways she might be, but he knew from Sir Henry that she was fiercely devoted to her grandchildren. What could she possibly be doing to cause the delay in employing a governess?

He pulled at his collar. He was supposed to be seeking a governess himself and he had done nothing. Annabelle's stopover with the Newsomes was not meant to be permanent, after all. Even though he saw her nearly every day, he wanted her home. But he'd been busy with estate matters, and seeing how well she was doing there, he'd let the stack of letters from prospective governesses accumulate on his desk. Yes, that had to be the reason. It certainly could not have anything to do with a reluctance to end his frequent meetings with Miss Lloyd, which continued no matter how often he tried to keep his distance from her.

The children were bubbling over with enthusiasm for visiting the castle again and the potential of meeting new playmates. Mrs. Wykeham had tea set for the children on the terrace while the adults—which included her husband and daughter Eliza and son-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Philip Thomas Wykeham (a distant cousin), as well as James and Miss Lloyd—were settled into the formal drawing room.

The younger Wykehams were a somber pair, dressed conservatively, she in unembellished gray and he in black. Their very presence seemed to dampen the spirits of the senior Wykehams, who said very little except to agree with most of the young Mrs. Wykeham’s opinions.

And she had plenty of them. She was quite clearly a devotee of the late Hannah More and William Wilberforce, and she was not shy about castigating her parents for expending a fortune in renovating the castle when the funds could have done much good to evangelize the common people.

“My husband and I,” she boasted, “have founded Bible schools for the children of the poor in Hertfordshire, all with our own meager income. Just think of what might have been done with the fortune you are squandering on this pile of rocks, Papa!”

Her father cleared his throat. “Eliza, dear, it is a part of our heritage.”