With the wrong woman.
Again.
Chapter Six
As for anyone who argues the granting of woman’s suffrage would be a mistake, I challenge them to provide sound, logical reasons why. Of course, they can be in possession of none.
—FromLady’s Suffrage Society Times
The Earl ofHuntingdon was soused.
Impossible as it seemed—for she had never witnessed the paragon overindulge—there was no denying the truth of it.
Helena’s first indication was when he arrived for dinner at the Marquess and Marchioness of Hartstock’s townhome and entered the dining hall swaying like a tree caught in a maelstrom. The second indication was when he spoke too loudly at dinner and laughed overly long at one of his own jokes. To be fair, the fact that he had told a sally at all was yet another troubling indicator. The third was the manner in which he quaffed his wine over the many courses, also quite unlike himself.
And the fourth was when he followed Helena into the lady’s withdrawing room, stuffing her inside and crowding her with his presence much as he had in the library.
She had not heard him follow her, and as she eyed him warily, heart hammering, she could not help but to wonder how. He was so large. He could not have trod silently, especially after the amount of wine he had drained over the course of the evening.
Regardless of his unusual behavior, he was here. Her lips tingled with remembrance of the kisses they had shared.
“Huntingdon,” she forced herself to say, “what in heaven’s name are you doing, following me in here? If anyone were to come upon us, it would be the scandal of the decade.”
“I needed to speak with you in private, to apologize for my unpardonable actions,” he announced, dashing any futile hopes she had been harboring that he may have followed her so he could kiss her again.
“You kissed me,” she said calmly, as if those kisses had not changed her world.
In truth, his refusal to speak honestly of what had transpired between them infuriated her. Hisunpardonable actionshad been everything to her, drat his beautiful hide.
“It was a mistake, what happened,” he said, talking far too loudly.
“Hush, or someone will hear you.” If Helena snapped at him, it could not be helped. He had just called kissing her a mistake, as well. She longed to slap him. And then kiss him some more. “You truly must go, Huntingdon. This is quite unlike you.”
“I have been able to think of nothing else but what happened.” He reached for her, then frowned and withdrew his hand before making contact, almost as if his body had a will of its own which did not match his mind. “Thinking of how wrong and dishonorable it was of me to act as I did. I cannot forgive myself, even if Lady Beatrice has.”
The mentioning of his betrothed had the effect of a bucket of ice being dumped into her soul. “Surely you are jesting, Lord Huntingdon.”
“Jesting?” He blinked in owlish fashion. “Of course I would never jest about a matter of such great import. You must know I desire you…er,your respect. As an old chum of Shelbourne’s, of course.”
Her foolish heart thumped with greater abandon, clinging to his misstep.
What if it was not a misstep? What if Huntingdon does desire you?
He did not kiss like a man who did not desire her. If anything, his kisses had been proof of the opposite.
She searched his deep-blue gaze, trying to find the answers she sought and finding only more questions instead. “You have always had my respect. Until you began this nonsensical meddling in my affairs, that is. You cannot continue following me about. I have settled upon my course.”
“Ruination,” he muttered, disgust evident in his voice.
“It is that or commit myself to a miserable existence as Lord Hamish’s bride,” she countered.
Why, oh why, would none of the men in her life see reason? Why could none of them understand how little power and hope a woman truly held? She was at the mercy of her father and his ludicrous plan she marry a man of his choosing.
“Shall I speak to Northampton on your behalf?” he asked. “Or Shelbourne, perhaps?”
Frustration blossomed once more.
“And what shall you tell them, hmm?” she demanded. “The same thing you told Lady Beatrice?”
