Virtue's Reward (3 page)

“Ah, Miss Trethaerin,” he said softly. “You have a visitor?”

“Captain Acton was a friend of Sir Edward Blake’s, Mr. Garthwood.”

“A pleasure, sir. Poor Cousin Edward! A sad loss.”

“Not so sad for you, of course,” Helena said calmly. “So there is no need to be unctuous. Captain Acton stopped by to pay his respects. He is just leaving.”

“Then let me call for your horse, Captain. The rather fine bay I saw in the stable, I imagine?”

“Indeed, sir. Thank you.”

Richard was used to sizing up men. Thank goodness he had never had anyone like Garthwood in his command! He felt an instinctive dislike: something about the way the man’s eyes seemed to be unable meet another’s, but slid away to focus on the wall or a window. Or the way his hands clutched and fondled at each other as he talked.

Ignoring his distaste for her cousin, Richard took up his hat and shook Helena by the hand. He was about to make her a polite farewell, when he heard himself speak instead to Garthwood.

“You will have no objection, sir, if I should stop by to say good-bye to Miss Trethaerin tomorrow before I leave Cornwall?”

Garthwood smiled. “None at all, of course.”

Richard bowed and stepped back out of the house into the sunshine.

Now, why on earth had he promised to visit again? Obviously, he and Helena Trethaerin had nothing further to say to each other. In a foul mood, he swung up onto his charger and trotted away down the driveway without a backward glance.

The sunken lanes with their stunted hedgerows and bulky stone walls passed by unnoticed. Within an hour he had ridden into the yard of the Anchor Inn in the fishing village of Blacksands, and in another hour he was in a state that he had not experienced since his salad days. He was comfortably drunk.

* * *

Helena turned to face her nemesis. Bravery was indeed facing one’s fear and carrying on regardless, and she was determined to be brave.

“To what do I owe this visit, Mr. Garthwood?”

“May I not visit, dear Miss Trethaerin? This is my house, after all.”

“The fact never leaves me, sir. Mr. Marble explained it all very well. Everything from Friarswell to Trethaerin is all rightfully yours. I am in your power. I don’t dispute it.”

“Then I wish that you would not take provisions to the Coopers. They are wastrels. I fear for your safety.”

“I have known Rob Cooper and his family all my life, Mr. Garthwood. Your concern is totally unnecessary.”

“And you must recognize that you cannot stay on here alone like this, in my house and dependent on me for your very bread, a young, single—and, may I say, attractive—young woman. It breaks every rule of propriety. Yet you know I will not turn you out to beg your living. Have you considered my offer?”

“I should like a few more days, sir, if you would be so gracious.”

“Please, my dear, you may have all the time you require. I should want you to give it all due consideration.”

“Thank you, sir. I shall.”

She had seen birds once at the market, beating frantically against the wicker bars of their cages. Had those creatures been any more trapped than she was? Why had her father been so stubborn about leaving Trethaerin to Edward? And why, oh, why, had poor Edward had to die?

* * *

Captain Acton woke the next morning with a pounding head and a foul taste in his mouth. Edward’s brandy flask sat on the small table beside the bed, but it was only indirectly the cause of his headache. Several empty bottles stood beside it, mute witness to his incredible behavior of the previous night. Why on earth had he decided to get drunk?

Devil take this whole place and especially Helena Trethaerin! If it had not been for what he had learned from Catherine Hunter at Stagshead about her situation, he would start out for London that instant and never see Cornwall again. But he had given his word to a dying comrade. He would see it through.

He flung back the covers and plunged his head into a basin of cold water, then he stripped and flung the rest of the water over his body. Rapidly drying himself on the inn’s threadbare towel, he pulled on a clean cambric shirt and buckskin breeches, then thrust his arms into the sleeves of a plain brown coat. He tied his cravat in a simple knot and finally plunged his feet into the loose-fitting tall boots made popular by the Iron Duke himself. Richard had no patience with a wardrobe that required the services of a valet in order to get dressed. It was simpler to travel alone and see to one’s own needs.

His head still felt as if it were encased in an iron band as he followed the winding lane to Trethaerin. His horse was feeling fresh and, prancing under his hand, was looking for any excuse to shy. Richard cursed. He was in no mood to put up with anyone’s high spirits, not even Bayard’s. Sensing his master’s impatience, the charger humped his back a little, but he knew better than to offer further disobedience. Richard’s hand tightened imperceptibly on the reins and the bay quietly trotted on.

* * *

Helena was in the garden, cutting the heads off the dying roses. She looked up as Captain Acton came striding down the path toward her.
He looks so vital,
she thought,
like a free creature of the sky! How can he possibly justify that frown?

She laughed at herself. Anyone with an independence would seem as free as a seagull to her. And he could certainly frown if he felt like it. Everyone was entitled to his demons.

Well, she must send this man away with a kind word and face her own problems by herself.

“Good morning, Captain Acton. I trust you found comfortable accommodation in the village?”

“Comfortable enough, Miss Trethaerin.”

“But you have the headache?”

He glanced at her with astonishment, but his pain was clear.

“Perhaps we should say our good-byes out of the sun?” she said calmly. “There’s a summerhouse under the willows.”

She turned and walked quickly past the rose beds and across the lawn, knowing that he would be forced to follow. As always, the little gazebo was refreshingly cool and shady. They sat formally opposite each other in two wrought iron chairs and he set his hat on the table. A light wind ruffled the frill around her bonnet and lifted the hair a little off his forehead.

Helena said nothing as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

His face smoothed. The breeze caressed, chasing playful shadows across his high cheekbones. He was more than handsome, this splendid officer who had been Edward’s idol throughout so many years of war. And no doubt he was kind and brave and brilliant, just as Edward had written.

Yet now she knew that he was also lithe and lean and strong. Really, he seemed faultless. And with such lovely hands . . .

Something stirred in her heart, piercing. She swallowed hard.

The silence stretched, ruffled only by the murmur of moving grasses and the odd buzz of a passing insect.

Captain Acton rubbed one hand over his eyes, then opened them and smiled at her. “My apologies, ma’am. You wished to say—?”

“I fear I was a little abrupt yesterday, sir,” she began gently. “If you would like to talk about Edward, I should be perfectly willing.”

He jerked upright. “
Edward?
I came here this morning, ma’am, to talk about you.”

“Me? But what possible concern am I to you, sir?”

“I know how you are situated, Miss Trethaerin. I met a Miss Hunter in Fernbridge and she told me. You were at school together in Exeter?”

“Catherine? Yes, we were friends. But why should she tell you about me?”

“Because I asked her. You had written to her recently?”

Helena leaped to her feet and began to pace across the stone floor of the summerhouse.

“How dare she! What earthly business is it of yours? I wrote to her in confidence. I cannot think that Catherine Hunter, of all people, would have so little honor.”

He gazed at her steadily. “You are completely disinherited by the terms of your father’s will. Though you led me to believe by your manner yesterday that Trethaerin House is still yours, in fact it has become the property of Mr. Nigel Garthwood, who inherited it from Edward. You said, ma’am, that you believed in honesty, but you were not entirely honest with me.”

Her heart pounded wildly. Her skin felt hot and flushed. “Because I did not launch into a pitiful tale of my situation? I remember nothing that I said that would have led you to believe that I was mistress of Trethaerin. Nothing! If my manner said otherwise—for heaven’s sake, I was born and grew up here. Besides, it is not your concern, sir.”

“I am making it my concern.”

She whirled around, making her black skirts eddy around her legs, and forced a calm she did not feel into her voice.

“Captain Acton. It is very kind of you to come down here to tell me about Edward’s death. I am grateful. Perhaps I don’t display the overwrought grief that you seem to feel I should, but he was my childhood friend and I am glad that you were there, so that he didn’t die alone. But there is no need for you to concern yourself further. In fact, I think that you had better go.”

“I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

In a stride he was towering over her and had taken her by the elbows. “Because I promised Edward that I would see that you were not in want. What is your future here? You have nothing. What do you plan to do?”

Helena gazed frankly back up at him. The vertical line was incised deeply between his brows and his nostrils were flared like a carving.

“Mr. Garthwood has asked for my hand, sir.”

His grip tightened on her arms. “Have you given him your answer?”

“Please, Captain Acton, are you intending to bruise me?”

He flushed and dropped his hands. “Forgive me, Miss Trethaerin. I am not usually so precipitate.”

“No, you were Edward’s hero: a model of all that is most controlled, correct, and gentlemanly, while all the time striking fear into the hearts of the enemy with your prowess on the battlefield. When you were not so employed, I understand you could play a mean hand at any game of chance and keep the camp in an uproar of hilarity with your facility at indelicate nonsense rhymes. A very paragon of manly virtue, in fact.”

“Good God!” He stepped away from her to spread his lean fingers on the rail of one of the iron chairs. He looked totally astonished. “I had no idea!” he said, then he bent his head forward onto his hands and began to laugh.

Helena watched his shoulders as they shook in quiet mirth. The breeze danced like a demon in his sun-bleached hair.

At last, he straightened. The laughter had still not entirely left his eyes.

“Miss Trethaerin, forgive me! Tell me truthfully that Mr. Garthwood has your heart and that you will marry him in gladness, and I shall be gone this instant. I promise you that I shall never think of you again—except to question your judgment.”

Helena dropped back onto her chair. “Then you are not impressed with the new owner of Trethaerin and Friarswell?”

“I don’t believe I ever met a more odious creature.”

“Nevertheless, I shall marry him.”

“What? Do you have windmills in your head, Miss Trethaerin?”

Helena looked down at her kid boots. Her anger had melted like ice in the sun. Captain Richard Acton had been Edward’s anchor, and now his strength beckoned to her as surely as a light in a window calls to a traveler lost in a storm. She would not be so weak.

“I assure you I am quite sane, sir. So you needn’t be concerned anymore.” She folded her hands so that he should not see them shake. “My mind is made up as of this instant. As Mrs. Garthwood my future will be perfectly secure. Your promise to Edward is fulfilled.”

He spun the other chair and straddled it, his arms along the back. “You did not answer my question, ma’am.”

“What question?” She was determined to avoid his gaze.

“Do you hold Mr. Garthwood in affection?”

“You have absolutely no right to ask such a thing.”

“I have my answer. Obviously you do not.”

“Captain Acton! I pray, do not continue this. I shall marry Mr. Garthwood and that’s an end of it.”

“In fact, you are afraid of him.”

Helena’s head flew up and she found herself gazing straight into his eyes. She felt as if she might drown in them, be swallowed up in their dark depths.

“You will not marry Nigel Garthwood,” he said decisively.

“What else do you suggest that I do, sir?”

“You could marry me.”

Helena leaped once again from her chair. “Is this a jest? How can you? I did not ask you to come here with your pity and your sorrow. We are strangers. I suggest that we both forget that you said such a thing. Good day, sir.”

In a flurry of skirts Helena swept from the summerhouse and hurried away, before she should break down in front of this mad, magnificent gentleman and weep.

Richard leaned back in the chair and looked up into the white-painted rafters of the gazebo. Well, he had certainly made a mess of that! Maybe he was taking his promise to Edward too seriously. They had been comrades and friends, but they had not been particularly close. Why should it matter what became of the cousin of a fallen officer? Thousands had died, leaving their dependents in want. Should he offer marriage to every young widow and destitute daughter?

He closed his eyes, and Edward’s white face appeared clearly before him. The man had died in his arms and he had given his word. He must fulfill his obligation to Helena Trethaerin or know himself forsworn.

He stood and walked to the door of the summerhouse. The sun gleamed on the surface of the close-mown lawn. If she were a respectable widow, he could just set her up in a house of her own with an income. But she was unmarried, young, and a lady. Gentlemen did not provide keep for young ladies, except in particular circumstances. Even the appearance of such an arrangement was sufficient to ruin her.

In fact, if it became known in the wider world that she was living alone like this in a house belonging to Garthwood, tongues would chatter quickly enough. If she advertised now for a place as a governess or a lady’s companion, she would be expected to provide references she obviously didn’t have and she would have to account for these past months. No wonder she was prepared to accept Garthwood’s offer!