But she would not go. Helena remained. For a moment, he swore he could detect her scent on the breeze. His heart squeezed in his chest.
“I am flattered you were so eager to see me,” Lady Beatrice said, a hint of flirtation in her voice. “It has only been a few days since you were in my company.”
Guilt lodged inside him with the violence of a swinging pickaxe.
“I am always eager to see you, my lady,” he forced out. “You know that. No other lady can compare.”
What a hideous liar he was. Helena very much compared. She outshone Lady Beatrice in every way. But Helena was a wild hellion, his friend’s sister, altogether forbidden to him. Lady Beatrice was the woman Grandfather had chosen to become the next Countess of Huntingdon. For all the right reasons.
His betrothed smiled at him, and her loveliness could not be denied. Nor could his distinct lack of reaction to her. Not a twitch of his prick. Not the slightest hint of heat in his belly or a sense of awareness.
Apathy was excellent, he reminded himself. Respect the foundation for a sound marriage, the sort of union he wanted for himself. He would not be doomed to repeat the sins of his parents.
“You flatter me, my lord.” She turned her head to admire a clump of fat, blooming roses. “I am not worthy of your high regard.”
“You are worthy of my highest regard,” he said solemnly, “and for that reason, I must confess that I come to you today with an apology, Lady Beatrice.”
She stiffened, her gaze flying back to his, and yet, her countenance remained oddly emotionless. “I am certain you have done nothing which requires my forgiveness, Lord Huntingdon.”
He hated himself. “While I appreciate your high opinion of me, I fear it is misguided in this instance. I acted in an inappropriate and far too familiar fashion with a female acquaintance yesterday. I remain deeply ashamed of my actions, and I felt the only honorable path was to be honest with you at once. Naturally, if you decide you cannot proceed with our marriage, given my lapse of judgment, I will understand.”
They paused on the path. Her mother watched from the salon windows, but they were out of earshot. It was enough for a spot of privacy, but not enough to be an affront to propriety.
“Of course I would never dream of judging you so harshly, my lord,” Lady Beatrice said calmly. “Gentlemen will have their moments of temptation. My place as your wife will be to offer my sincere affection and support however I may.”
Her response left him stunned. He had imagined a host of reactions from his betrothed on his carriage ride here, and none of them had been complacency and acceptance.
He cleared his throat. “Your understanding is much appreciated, my dear. However, I wish to reassure you I will never again allow myself to act with such dishonor again.”
“You need not fear I will object to your keeping a mistress, Lord Huntingdon,” she said briskly, as if she were speaking of something as simple as the rose bushes in bloom. “Indeed, I am more than prepared to encourage you to do so.”
Helena was hardly his mistress. The wickedest part of him contemplated the notion of her, naked in his bed. Of making love to her.
No, Gabe. You are better than this. Cling to your honor…
He did not dare reveal the identity of the lady in question. He had been spending the last few weeks doing his utmost to keep Helena from ruining herself, damn it. Confiding in Lady Beatrice would only undermine that purpose, to say nothing of the other problems it would create.
“I will not be keeping a mistress,” he said stiffly, the use of the word, spoken to his future countess, feeling shameful and wrong. “I intend to be a faithful husband.”
Indeed, faithfulness was one of the most important tenets which should guide a marriage. Neither of his parents had been faithful to each other. And look at what had become of them, of Lisbeth.
“Forgive me for being so forward with my wishes, but I do believe it for the best if you are to keep a mistress, Lord Huntingdon,” his betrothed returned then, leaving him further shocked. “It is expected and, in many ways, natural. If you should wish to pursue more with this…female acquaintance of yours, I would not object.”
This was not what he wished to hear. Suspicion rose within him. Was she encouraging him to take a mistress so she, too, could pursue another? Because the last thing he wanted was to bind himself in a marriage like the one his parents had shared.
“Mayhap this is a conversation we should have had before, Lady Beatrice. I will not accept infidelity within the bonds of marriage.”
She smiled brightly. “You need not fear on that account, my lord. I will be more than happy to be a faithful wife and provide you with the necessary heirs, while you are free to pursue whatever you wish. I wholeheartedly appreciate your candor, and now, I do think it best we returned inside as we have tarried quite a bit in the gardens.”
“Of course, my lady.” Bemused, he turned and guided them back into the house.
After a few minutes of polite inquiries between himself and his hostesses, Huntingdon was once more in his carriage. He needed to speak with Shelbourne. Unfortunately for him, a call at his friend’s bachelor’s residence revealed he was not at home.
Feeling grimmer than he had upon waking that morning, Huntingdon returned home and promptly took up a bottle of whisky, hiding in his study. Even more unfortunately for Huntingdon, he was an infrequent imbiber.
Which meant that in no time at all, he was desperately bosky.
And which also meant that in no time at all, he was once more finding himself desperately in trouble.
