The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (26 page)

Helena made a soothing sound and pressed her lips to his jaw. He chuckled.

“Don’t feel too sorry for me. In time I learned the ins and outs of life as an adventurer. The Princess was of great assistance with that. I also learned a great deal about horsemanship from her stable master, and when she and I tired of each other, I moved on to Vienna, where I trained the horses at the Spanische Hofreitschule and became quite a figure in society.”

“So
savoir faire
was all you learned from the princess?”

“I’ll not kiss and tell.” He grinned. “But I’m happy to share my lessons with you.”

“You must have missed your family and England a great deal.”

“I don’t know that I did. I was angry at my father for not believing me and at Brayleigh, who I thought had caused my troubles. Anger can keep a man going, even when he is tired and sad. Eventually I made friends, and even came to enjoy my life. After all, to be a pasha is no mean thing. But it was exhausting, moving about, never being certain of anything.”

“Now you are trying to make me feel sorry for you,” Helena said in an accusatory tone.

He smiled. “Is it working?”

“A little,” she admitted. “You seem so carefree. I had not thought that that time would have scarred you so.”

“It was not always terrible. I began to enjoy adventuring, and often forgot I had lived another life. I had friends, and enough money in my pocket for my needs. England seemed very far away. Then one day, as if by magic, I was the Earl of Wroxton, and innocent of any crime. I scarcely recalled my family name was Arlingby, I’d used so many others. My sister was restored to me, I was a rich man, and Society could not get enough of me. The people who had rejected me years before flocked to me, wanting to be my friend.”

“That must have been difficult,” said Helena. “You were not the same person who left England.”

“Perhaps that is why it took me so long to return to Wroxton Hall. I thought the part of me that loved Kent, and its rolling hills and fields, was dead and buried.”

“That is not true.” Helena’s voice was firm. “The tenants are already much happier to see the improvements you have made, and when we free the land of the free traders, it will even better. Yours are not the actions of a man who does not love his home.”

“I wonder if I would have stayed long, if not for you,” mused Malcolm. “When I came here I was angry about having to face my responsibilities to care for the land, and the Hall, and the tenants. But you have reminded me why these things matter, and why Kent is beautiful, and that my home should be my sanctuary.”

Helena bit her lip. “It is not my doing. But I promise not to call you the Wicked Earl again.”

Malcolm leaned in and kissed her gently. “Thank you. Not that I don’t have my wicked moments, of course.” His hand slid between her legs and cupped her gently. “I think we have some hours before dinner, don’t you?”

Two hours later Malcolm and Helena returned to Wroxton Hall. Malcolm’s shirt was open at the neck, and his coat was tossed carelessly over his shoulder, while Helena’s crumpled dress and tousled curls told their own tale. As they entered, laughing at a shared joke, they found a dark haired woman wearing a travelling dress in the first stare of fashion standing in the center of the hall, untying the cerise ribbons of her very stylish bonnet. Malcolm stopped abruptly at the sight of her then hesitated, making a quick movement as though to stand between her and Helena, but instead strode forward to greet her.

“Estella, what the devil are you doing here?”

The woman peeked up at him, a coy smile on her lips. “I thought you would be happy to see me, Malcolm.”

Malcolm shot Helena a glance. “It is just that I am surprised,” he said. “You did not tell me you were coming.”

“I didn’t wait for an invitation,” she agreed. “When I heard there was to be a grand ball at Wroxton, I packed immediately and posted down here. I knew you would be missing me. It’s been weeks, after all.”

Helena watched the pair of them, the tiny brunette so vivacious and sure of herself, giving Malcolm a glance full of promise. They looked well together, she thought suddenly, his fairness contrasting with her dusky locks, her head barely reaching his shoulder. She looked away, not sure what to think.

“Who is your friend?” asked Estella brightly.

Malcolm scowled at her. “This is Miss Keighley. Miss Keighley, this is Mrs. Lacey—a—a friend of mine.”

Helena felt a sinking sensation when she heard the name, though she’d had few doubts as to who the beautiful woman was. Estella glanced from Malcolm’s face to Helena’s, and then floated across the floor to clasp Helena’s daintily hand in hers.

“Indeed, how could I forget? We met several years ago in London; we came out during the same Season. I was Miss Fairchild at the time.”

Helena returned the grasp of her hand gingerly, feeling a giant next to the exquisite Mrs. Lacey. “Miss Fairchild?” she said numbly. “Yes, I believe we did meet on a few occasions. At the Marlowe ball, perhaps?”

“Indeed, yes. And at Montagu House.”

Helena jumped as though stung, and Malcolm moved quickly to come between them. “I’m sure you met dozens of times,” he said hastily.

“Of course we did.” Estella bent a brilliant smile on Helena. “I feel sure we shall be very, very good friends.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened in alarm. “There’s no need for that. Miss Keighley is merely here to discuss some business with me. Our estates march together, you know.”

“Do they?” Estella’s voice reflected her complete lack of interest in the topic. “I’m afraid I know so little about farming, and land, and animals. My father and my husband always take care of such things. But I’m sure it’s fascinating,” she assured Helena warmly.

“Where’s the butler?” demanded Malcolm, looking around. “I’ll have him take you to a room. Though you might have told me you were coming, Estella. This will be damned awkward. My sister and Brayleigh will be here as well.”

“Don’t be nonsensical,” Estella laid one delicate hand on his arm. “It’s been far too long. I’ve missed you a great deal.”

Malcolm jumped at her touch and moved away, shouting for the butler. When he arrived looking harried, Malcolm gave a sigh of relief.

“Find Mrs. Macomber,” her ordered, “and have her take Mrs. Lacey to her room.”

“Mrs. Lacey?’ asked Catherwood, bewildered.

“I did not know that she was coming, but there must be a room somewhere,” said Malcolm in a low voice. He glanced at Estella, who was looking increasingly annoyed. “A nice room,” he added. “In the east wing.”

“Where are your rooms?” purred Estella.

“In the west wing.”

Estella pouted. “It’s not as though your sister is unaware—” she began, but she was interrupted by the arrival of the housekeeper, Mrs. Macomber, who bobbed a curtsey.

“Lord Wroxton would like Mrs. Lacey to have a room in the east wing,” Catherwood informed her.

Malcolm glanced at Helena. “Definitely in the east wing,” he repeated.

Mrs. Macomber looked from Mrs. Lacey to Malcolm, and then curtsied again. “Yes, my lord,” she said. “Would the Green Room do?”

“Which one - the Green Room would be perfect,” said Malcolm. “By all means, put Mrs. Lacey in the Green Room.”

“If you would come with me, ma’am,” said Mrs. Macomber.

As she prepared to lead Estella up the staircase, Stephen strolled into the hallway. He took in the scene in one glance; Malcolm standing in the middle of the room, looking exasperated, while Helena stood to one side, intently gazing at everything except Estella, who was watching her speculatively. A smiled, hastily suppressed, crossed his face, and then he moved forward.

“Mrs. Lacey, what a delightful surprise,” he said, taking Estella’s hand in his and bowing over it gracefully.

“Everyone seems very startled to see me,” said Estella in a teasing voice. “You would almost think Malcolm doesn’t want me here.”

“That would be impossible,” Stephen assured her. “Were you going to your room? Malcolm, escort Mrs. Lacey to her room. I will make sure that Miss Keighley is attended to.”

Helena smiled at him gratefully. “I should return home. I—we—Lord Wroxton and I meant to discuss some business, but it is clear he is busy.”

“I will be glad to escort you to the stables. Mrs. Lacey, I will see you at dinner.” Stephen bowed elegantly to Estella and then offered Helena his arm. Under Malcolm’s infuriated gaze, he swept her out of the door of Wroxton Hall.

Helena gave a sigh of relief. “How glad I am you came along.”

Stephen looked down at her, his eyes teasing. “I can only be grateful when a beautiful woman is pleased to see me.”

Helena smiled back at him, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere. “That woman—”

“Mrs. Lacey?” asked Stephen gently.

“Yes, Mrs. Lacey,” agreed Helena. “Tell me about her.”

“She is the wife of Mr. Robert Lacey,” he said promptly. “He owns lands near Bath. The family is very respectable; I believe they are related to Viscount Carlyle.”

Helena gave a reluctant laugh. “That is not what I meant.”

“I know. But I’m not sure any other information is mine to share with you.”

“I’ve been told she is a very good friend of Lord Wroxton’s,” said Helena in a small voice.

“They are friends, yes,” said Stephen. “You will have to ask Lord Wroxton how close they are.”

Helena pondered his words. “That is not entirely fair of you. Surely you know what I mean.”

“Indeed I do. But it would not be gentlemanly of me to speak of things that are Lord Wroxton’s to divulge.” He looked at Helena; her profile was turned to him, but he could see the discontent on her face.

“Permit me to say, Miss Keighley, that I do not think that Lord Wroxton sent for Mrs. Lacey, or that he was pleased with her arrival,” he continued after a pause.

“You must find me very silly,” said Helena, both slightly mollified by his words and mortified that Stephen clearly had some inkling of what had passed between her and Malcolm. “I have no claim on Lord Wroxton.”

Stephen stared straight ahead. “I think you might, if you wished to,” he said in a neutral tone.

She glanced at him quickly. “You don’t understand. Lord Wroxton and I—we—that is to say, I have not—nor has he,” she concluded, her voice trailing off.

Stephen smiled slightly. “I understand perfectly. Miss Keighley, it is not my place to interfere, nor would I trust my judgment, were I you, for I am not much in the petticoat line. But I do not think that your—friendship—with Lord Wroxton will be overset by the appearance of Mrs. Lacey.”

They had reached the stables, and paused in the courtyard. “But he stayed with her,” Helena said abruptly.

“She is his guest; he is obliged to be polite. I imagine, if I had not appeared, he would have found some very rude way to fob her off on someone else.”

Helena looked down at the ground. “Thank you for escorting me, Mr. Delaney.”

“Certainly.” Stephen turned to one of the grooms. “Bring Miss Keighley’s horse,” he ordered.

“You don’t have to wait,” said Helena. “I’m sure you can find better entertainment than hanging about the stables with me.”

“Not at all. It would be rude to abandon you here, and I find your company amusing.”

“You do?”

“Miss Keighley, you sell yourself short. If my friend had not been monopolizing your time with his ball and plots to capture free traders, I might very well have tried to cut him out.”

Helena laughed. “Don’t try to gammon me, Mr. Delaney.”

“Not at all. I am most sincere. But I am quite terrified of Malcolm, you see.”

That brought another peal of laughter from Helena. As the happy sound rang out across the courtyard, Stephen smiled down at her. They presented a contented picture as Malcolm rounded the corner and entered the stable yard. He paused, a thundercloud gathering on his brow.

Helena’s horse was brought up by a groom, and as Stephen turned to assist her in mounting, he caught sight of his friend.

“Oh, is that you, Mal?” he asked casually. “What are you doing here?”

“Mrs. Macomber is taking Mrs. Lacey to her room,” said Malcolm, an edge to his voice. “I might ask you the same thing.”

“I waited with Miss Keighley until her horse was saddled,” said Stephen mildly. “It seemed the polite thing to do.”

He moved to throw Helena up into the saddle, and Malcolm stepped hastily in front of him. Stephen stepped back a pace with an amused grin, and Helena looked up at the earl through her lashes.

“This was not necessary, my lord.”

“Helena—blast it, Miss Keighley,” he said, glancing at Stephen. “I need to talk to you. Will you come to Wroxton Hall tomorrow?”

“I’m not certain,” said Helena demurely. “Your visitors are arriving, and you will need to entertain them.”

“I will require your assistance with that. Malcolm’s voice was grim. “Rowena arrives soon, as well, and you will wish to see her.”

“Do send a note when Lady Brayleigh arrives,” said Helena. “I will certainly come visit then.”

Malcolm gritted his teeth. “This, my girl, is not over.”

“If you will help me to mount my horse, I must be on my way,” said Helena.

Instead of cupping his hands for her foot, to toss her up, Malcolm wrapped his hands around her waist, lifting her effortlessly into the saddle. She felt a tingle of warmth at the touch of his hands, and resolutely turned her thoughts elsewhere. After adjusting her stirrup, she looked down at Malcolm holding the reins of her horse, keeping her from moving forward.

“My lord?”

“If you don’t come here tomorrow, I will seek you out.”

“That is your choice,” she said gently. “If you will release me?”

Malcolm reluctantly let go of the reins, and Helena urged her horse out of the stable yard without a backward glance.

Malcolm turned to Stephen. “What the hell do you mean by making her laugh?” he demanded.

Stephen raised his hands placatingly. “Don’t call me out, Mal,” he protested. “I only sought to lighten her mood. She wasn’t expecting your mistress to appear today, I gather.”

“I wasn’t expecting my mistress to turn up today—or ever,” said Malcolm angrily.

“You’ve made a pretty hash of this,” observed Stephen.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make it any worse by flirting with Miss Keighley,” said Malcolm coldly.

“Don’t blame it on me, my boy. This is a shambles entirely of your own making. I wanted to see the poor girl smile; no need to pull my cork over it. You’re the one who made her unhappy, not me.”

Malcolm shook his head. “Damn it. I’d appreciate it if you stop trying to help me.”

“I wasn’t trying to help you, I was trying to ease Miss Keighley’s obvious discomfort at Estella’s presence,” said Stephen frankly. “You will have to help yourself; she’s not the woman to play your games.”

“I know it.” Malcolm gazed after Helena’s retreating figure. “My hand is not yet played.”

“I wish you luck. You’ll need it. You can’t cheat your way out of this one, Mal.”

The two men strolled back to the Hall. Malcolm was lost in thought much of the way, but as they walked up the steps to the terrace, Stephen found his voice.

“What will you do about Estella?”

“I must talk to her now,” said Malcolm. “There’s no point in putting it off.”

“I don’t envy you that conversation.”

“I’ve had many of them,” said Malcolm, cheerfully. He gave his friend a half smile. “Do you mean to take her on?”

“Egad, no,” said Stephen. “Mrs. Lacey is a damn fine woman, but I’m far too lazy to keep her in check. She’d run roughshod over me. Come find me when you’re done; I’ll be in the library with the brandy decanter.”

Malcolm laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. He turned to a footman. “Where is Mrs. Lacey?” he inquired.

“In her room, my lord,” said the man, staring stolidly ahead.