A Marriageable Miss (10 page)

As he stared down into her wide blue eyes, so full of compassion, Richard’s heart lurched and he mentally cursed himself for having ruined what had been turning out to be a hugely enjoyable interlude. Unable to prevent himself, he reached out for her hand once again and, lifting her fingers to his lips, he said softly, ‘You really are the most unusual female, Miss Wheatley. The fellow who eventually succeeds in winning your heart must consider himself most fortunate indeed!’

Much flustered, Helena made every effort to extract her hand from his grasp, only to have him tuck it firmly in the crook of his arm, after which, having pointed out that both her cousin and their friends appeared to have deserted them, he led her towards the doorway, reminding her that the delights of the supper room still awaited them.

The remainder of the evening played itself out in something of a daze, as far as Helena was concerned. She had very little idea of what she ate or drunk, and, much later, when she was safely back within the sanctuary of her own bedchamber, she could not, for the life of her, call to mind the face of a single person to whom she might have spoken or even whether the responses that she might have given had made any sense at all!

The only thing of which she could be certain was that, at some point during the course of the evening, no matter how hard she tried to deny it, the most appalling thing had happened. In failing to keep up her guard, she had fallen victim to her own sense of compassion and had actually allowed herself to warm towards a man who would never have given her a second glance had it not been for her father’s fortune! So much for her clever plan of remaining coolly detached!

As she stared at her decidedly woebegone reflection in the looking-glass, she tried desperately to recall exactly when or how this miserable state of affairs had come about. As far as she could remember, the earl had paid her no more attention than she might have expected during the early part of the evening, although it had seemed that, whenever she chanced to look in his direction, she would catch him staring at her with a very pensive expression on his face. At the time, she had supposed that he must have observed some horrendous fault in her behaviour and had straight away set about trying to curb her natural exuberance but then, when he had had the effrontery to fling those unworthy criticisms at her, she had not known whether to strike him or to run away and hide! Luckily, her inbuilt sense of decorum had prevented her from carrying out either one of these actions.

How she could possibly have gone from practically detesting the man one minute to being in perfect empathy with him the next baffled her. Apart from the earlier rather disagreeable interchange, they had exchanged very few words throughout the course of the evening. Until that final conversation which, she was bound to admit, had been proceeding very agreeably until she had committed the apparently unpardonable error of offering him financial assistance! But then, despite his having kissed her hand and making what one could only consider to be a most personal observation, he had taken great pains to avoid any further communication with her. Indeed, now that she came to think of it, he seemed to have gone out of his way to ensure that the two of them were always part of some group or other. Even in the carriage on the way home, he had been very withdrawn. Polite and courteous, of course, but, to a man of his breeding, that sort of behaviour would come as second nature; he had still managed to make it perfectly plain that he could hardly wait to take his leave.

The problem with which she was now confronted, however, was not in relation to Markfield’s conduct, but her own. The thought of having to go on meeting him, with the express purpose of advertising their supposedly imminent betrothal, did not rest easy with her, especially since she could not help feeling that, having
allowed herself to view him in a different light, it would be well nigh impossible to return to her former state of cool indifference.

But, what was she to do? She knew that any sudden curtailment of her association with the Standish family was bound to have the most disastrous effect on her father’s fragile health. What possible reason could she give him for wanting to bring the relationship to a close at this early stage?

She could only hope that some sort of solution to this vexing dilemma would present itself to her very soon, otherwise she was afraid that she might well find herself very much in the suds!

Richard, too, had been pondering over the disquieting events of that first evening. Since there had been quite a crowd at their supper table, it had not been difficult to ensure that any exchanges between Helena and himself were kept, not only to an absolute minimum, but also at a relatively impersonal level. Not that such a course of action had proved particularly rewarding, as he ruefully reminded himself, for it had been quite impossible for him not to register the several perplexed glances that she had cast in his direction; nor had the gradual lessening of her earlier vivacity escaped his notice. How he had managed to keep up this detached attitude throughout the remainder of the evening, especially on the homeward journey—during which he was well aware that his manner had been particularly off-hand—he would never know! Added to which, although he had made up his mind that he would still continue to do his best to fulfil the terms of the, as yet, unsigned contract, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach was warning him that all future transactions between Miss Wheatley and himself would need to be conducted on a strictly businesslike footing. Since she had laid down the terms of her requirements quite clearly and was merely biding her time until her father was deemed well enough to be told that she and Markfield did not suit, it was clear that to allow himself to become emotionally involved with her at this particular point in his life was the very last thing he needed!

C
ontrary to Helena’s somewhat nervous expectations, the proposed introduction to the Prince Regent on the following evening failed to materialise. It was true that no sooner had the curtain fallen at the end of the first act of a rather dreary opera than the countess had risen to her feet with the intention of visiting his Highness’s box. However, upon discovering that a good many of the theatre’s other patrons had decided to do likewise, she had changed her mind and hurriedly returned to her seat.

‘Another time, perhaps,’ she proclaimed, as she flicked open her fan and proceeded to flap it vigorously in front of her face which, in the process of fighting her way back through the press of people in the passage outside, had become somewhat overheated. ‘As a matter of fact, in view of the number of invitations I received this morning, it would seem that we are managing perfectly well without Prinny’s patronage. In any event, I have no mind to mingle with that sycophantic set of hangers-on—obsequious toadeaters, the lot of them! Why folk cannot allow the poor fellow to enjoy a simple evening out without forever pestering him with their petty trivialities, I simply cannot imagine!’

Biting her lip to prevent herself from laughing aloud at what seemed to her to be blatant hypocrisy on her ladyship’s part, Helena shot a quick sideways glance at Markfield, only to find
that he, too, appeared to be having great difficulty in controlling his amusement.

He, as it happened, had been fighting a losing battle with himself to keep his eyes trained on the stage in the face of Helena’s tantalising nearness. With her hair swept up into a soft chignon and her gown of pale chartreuse crepe cut low to reveal her neck and shoulders in all their smooth and creamy glory, it was as much as he could do to maintain his normal mien of casual urbanity, especially in view of the faint wafts of her delicate perfume that seemed hellbent upon drifting in his direction.

The sight of her mischievously laughing eyes as she turned her face in his direction was, however, just too much for him to cope with, in his present frame of mind. Rising briskly to his feet, he made for the door of the box, declaring, ‘It seems to be getting rather warm in here—I’ll just go and see if I can find us something cool to drink!’

Lottie, seated on the far right of the box, reached across and tugged at her cousin’s sleeve. ‘Could we not get up and walk about, too, Nell?’ she pleaded. ‘It is so dreadfully stuffy in here and the smell from all those oil lamps at the front of the stage is beginning to make me feel quite queasy!’

Since she had no real knowledge of what the correct procedure might be on occasions such as this, Helena, turning to the countess, enquired, ‘Would it be in order for the two of us to stroll up and down the corridor for a few moments, ma’am? My cousin is not feeling quite up to par.’

‘Then by all means take her outside,’ averred Lady Isobel, with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘That dreadful crowd may well have thinned by now and I cannot suppose that you will come to any harm—provided that you stay together and remain within earshot, of course. No more than five minutes, mark you. His lordship is sure to be back with the drinks directly.’

Unfortunately, the two girls were soon to discover that the narrow passageway at the rear of the boxes was still heavily congested and, opting to move in the direction that took them away
from the vicinity of his Highness’s box, they found themselves at the top of the staircase that led down to the foyer.

‘If we made haste,’ suggested Helena, after casting a concerned look at Lottie’s decidedly pasty-coloured cheeks, ‘we could probably step outside and snatch a few gulps of fresh air. Might that set you up for the second half of the performance, do you suppose?’

At her cousin’s weak nod, Helena took hold of her hand and together the pair made their way through the thronging mass of theatregoers on the staircase down to the ground floor. They had all but succeeded in their venture when, as luck would have it, they found their way barred by a decidedly rattled-looking Lord Markfield.

He, greatly irritated at having been obliged to shoulder his way through the press of people gathered about the theatre bar in order to achieve his objective, had been in the process of making the return journey to the box whilst endeavouring to keep his tray of drinks still intact when, to his utter disbelief, he had caught sight of Helena and her cousin, apparently heading for the exit.

‘Now, where might you two be off to?’ he enquired, fixing Helena with an accusative stare. ‘I trust that you are not attempting to engage in yet another of your renowned withdrawal tactics?’

Helena froze and, in the space of seconds, her attitude went from one of feeling rather like a child who has been caught with its hand in the biscuit box to one of deep resentment. That the earl should stoop so low as to use that which had been shared with him in confidence as some sort of weapon against her was, to her, thoroughly reprehensible and almost beyond belief!

‘In point of fact,’ she said icily, flashing him a look of such contempt that he was, momentarily, stopped in his tracks, ‘it just so happens that my cousin is feeling unwell and I was merely attempting to take her outside for a breath of fresh air!’

Richard drew in a deep breath. The unaccountable feeling of frustrated irritation from which he had been suffering since the start of the evening having been exacerbated by the rude jostling he had received at the drinks bar, the unexpected sight of Helena and her cousin apparently about to flee the building had brought him almost to breaking point, hence his rather tactless turn of phrase.

Nevertheless, even though he was prepared to admit that there was a slight possibility that he could have been mistaken in his surmise, meaning that an apology was in order—an occurrence that seemed to Richard to be repeating itself with a somewhat monotonous regularity, insofar as his dealings with Helena were concerned—his present mood was such that he found himself reluctant to accept what he considered to be a rather far-fetched excuse. His eyes kindling, he was just about to challenge the validity of her words when a low moan from Lottie caused him to switch his attention away from Helena and on to her cousin.

One look at her pasty-coloured cheeks had him instantly gal-vanised into action. Thrusting his tray into the hands of a passing attendant, he directed the man to deliver the drinks to Lady Isobel’s box. Having divested himself of this encumbrance, he then turned back to Lottie who, in the face of her cousin’s anger, was now looking distinctly out of countenance.

‘I do wish that you had confided in me earlier,’ said the earl, by now deeply concerned. ‘Had I known that you were feeling unwell, I would have brought you downstairs myself. You must allow me to escort you outside for a breath of air.’

With that, he lifted Lottie’s unresisting hand and, studiously ignoring Helena’s affronted gasp, placed it on his arm and proceeded to escort her through the doorway out into the street beyond. Since it was impossible for him to miss the expression of rigid indignation that appeared on Helena’s face, as she stood back to allow them to pass, he was unable to prevent the deep sense of remorse that overtook him. Nevertheless, since it was clear that seeking relief for Lottie’s obvious discomfort was, at this moment, of far greater importance than concerning himself with her cousin’s bruised ego, he stiffened his resolve and concentrated his efforts on getting the ailing female through the crowded foyer and out of the building—doggedly shoving all further thoughts of possible apologies to the back of his mind.

Helena, following the pair through the swing doors, was consumed with resentment. She had expected an instant apology
from the earl for the hurtful and unjust accusation he had thrown at her. Instead of which, it had been Lottie who had claimed his attention! If this was how he intended to behave towards her in the future, she would jolly soon bring their relationship to a close! To think that she had actually begun to imagine herself halfway to falling in love with the selfish, inconsiderate brute! But then, as she saw how tenderly he was supporting her rapidly wilting cousin whilst attempting to fan her face with his pocket-handkerchief, Helena’s fury evaporated at a stroke and she was overcome with shame. Poor, dear Lottie’s need was, without a doubt, far greater than any petty grievance that
she
might harbour. How she could ever have thought otherwise was now beyond her comprehension!

Stepping forwards, she took hold of Lottie’s free hand and, patting it gently, said, ‘I think that we ought to go home at once, my love. You will feel better once you have had a little lie down.’

With a weak shake of her head, Lottie emitted a mewl of protest. ‘Oh, no, Nell, please!’ she gasped, frantically dabbing at her lips with her own damp and much screwed-up handkerchief. ‘Whatever will her ladyship think?’

‘Her ladyship will think just as Miss Wheatley does,’ interposed Richard soothingly. ‘It is clear that you are not well enough to return to your seat. If you will give me but a moment, I shall have the carriage brought round.’

With that, he signalled to the doorman who, flicking his fingers at a nearby pageboy, sent him scurrying around the corner to where the line of waiting carriages was parked. Minutes later, the countess’s barouche drew up in front of the theatre and the earl, after lowering the window slightly to allow in a little fresh air, settled Lottie into a corner seat.

‘If you would be good enough to sit with your cousin for a few minutes,’ he said, as he handed Helena up into the carriage, ‘I will collect my grandmother and we will have you driven home without further delay.’

‘Your lordship has been most—’ began Helena but, before she could even begin to express her gratitude to him for attending so
swiftly to her cousin’s needs, the earl had closed the carriage door and was walking swiftly back towards the theatre.

Although she was left feeling rather foolish and not a little embarrassed at his abrupt departure, she had no time to dwell upon it, since Lottie, full of apologies for having spoilt everyone’s evening, soon claimed her attention.

‘No, no, dearest,’ she said in reply. ‘You really must not repine so. It is of no consequence whatsoever. Like you, I found the atmosphere in there quite stifling. Apart from which, I feel sure that her ladyship must have been as bored with that stupid opera as I was, for I swear that I caught her nodding off more than once during the performance! So, I beg of you not to give the matter another thought, my love. As soon as we get home, I shall have Mrs Pearson make you up one of her soothing possets and you will feel as right as rain in no time, I promise you.’

Markfield’s return, with his grandmother in tow, quickly put a stop to any further protests from the still-drooping Lottie and, no sooner had they settled themselves in their respective seats than, at a signal from the earl, the carriage moved off.

‘You really should have said something sooner, you silly child!’ remonstrated Lady Isobel as, after ferreting through the contents of her reticule, she fished out a bottle of sal volatile and passed it across to Helena. ‘Wave this under her nose for a moment. It usually serves!’

Inwardly castigating herself for not having had the forethought to tuck her own bottle of this simple remedy into her evening bag, Helena did as she was bid. Just one sniff of the pungent fumes was enough to produce a choking cough from Lottie who, although far from fully recovered, hastily waved the bottle away.

‘Enough, thank you!’ she gasped, as she dabbed at her streaming eyes.

The countess gave a satisfied nod. ‘There,’ she said, having retrieved her bottle of spirits and returned it to the rest of the jumble in her oversized handbag. ‘I knew it would do the trick—I never travel without it. Restores the constitution wonderfully well. Nevertheless, since you are still looking a little pale, my
girl, I recommend that, the minute you get home, you take yourself straight off to bed. Markfield will call in the morning to see how you do.’

Then, turning to Helena, she added, ‘You and I, my dear, will need to get our heads together over all the invitations I have received on your behalf. It might be advisable if you return with his lordship after his visit tomorrow morning in order that we may decide which events will best advertise your growing attachment.’

Growing attachment!
thought Helena, with an inward grimace.
Little does the elderly dowager realise how far from the truth that is!
Then, conscious of Richard’s eyes on her, she hurriedly directed her own gaze out of the window on her side of the carriage, feigning an intense interest in the passing traffic and steadfastly refraining from looking in his direction.

He, too, was beginning to doubt the wisdom of ever having entered into this bogus relationship, which seemed destined to be beset by far more pitfalls than he could ever have imagined when he had first agreed to it. The constant emotional turmoil that he had recently found himself undergoing was, surely, far more than any sane man could be expected to deal with and, as of this moment, he was not entirely sure that he would be able to summon up the necessary stamina to ride the thing out. On the other hand, the gradual lessening in requests for immediate settlement of accounts over the past few days did seem to be giving credence to the fact that word of an impending engagement between himself and the daughter of one of London’s richest stockbrokers was already going the rounds. Thank God he was still sufficiently in charge of his senses to realise that any sudden curtailment of his perceived courtship of Helena would have the most disastrous effect upon his already tenuous financial state. Suppressing those other unsolicited emotions, however, looked set to present him with a far more difficult task than he could ever have imagined!