He shook himself from the thoughts, from the suspicions. “I can assure you that what happened between Lady Helena and myself was not planned. Neither of us intended to do you harm. Indeed, hurting you is the last thing I would wish, my lady.”
“And yet, you have,” she pointed out. “You are standing before me, telling me you cannot marry me although you have already promised yourself to me. That you have compromised Lady Helena in such extreme you have no other option save marrying her. What am I to feel, my lord? I was settled upon you as my future husband, and you have reassured me of your own sentiments throughout the mourning period for your grandfather. I have been waiting for you.”
She was right in her words, in her anger, in her outrage. All of it.
There was only one thing he could say, and it was not a defense, but the words and the regrets were all he possessed to give her. “I am so sorry, Lady Beatrice. I will not beg your forgiveness, for I am unworthy of it. My actions are unpardonable.”
“Yes,” she said coldly. “They are. If you will excuse me, my lord? I find myself unable to bear another moment of this conversation. Naturally, you will make the necessary explanations to my father and mother?”
“Of course.” He bowed to her, hating the pain etched on her face.
She turned in a flounce of skirts and fled from the garden, hastening down the path they had so recently trod together.
Chapter Ten
Why is it that a woman must pay taxes and yet she is denied the right to vote for members of Parliament? How odd that, after years of fighting for equal representation, we remain at an impasse. One must wonder at the reason why.
—FromLady’s Suffrage Society Times
Helena would havesupposed that, following her fall from grace, her father would have watched over her with the keen precision of a general going to battle, ready to rout the enemy. However, she continued to enjoy the ordinary freedom of movement which had been hers prior to the announcement of her revelation. Perhaps it was because Father believed the worst of her and was persuaded she could not further compromise herself. Perhaps it was because he no longer cared for her reputation now that she would no longer be the sacrificial offering to Lord Hamish.
Whatever the reason, she was heartily glad for the opportunity it afforded her to watch and wait for Huntingdon to emerge from his interview with her father the following afternoon. She was hiding in the library, awaiting the earl’s long-limbed strides, face pressed to the crack in the partially opened door.
Her back was beginning to ache from the awkwardness of her posture when, at long last, Huntingdon stalked into view. His expression was grim, the dark bruising mottling his jaw doing nothing to detract from his handsomeness. He looked more serious than she had ever seen him, and she was the source of his bleakness.
Her heart gave a pang.
She rushed from behind the door and seized his arm. “Huntingdon, wait,” she pleaded in hushed tones, casting frantic glances about to make certain no one else was about.
The hall was blessedly empty. But that did not mean Shelbourne was not hiding in the wings, ready to storm out of the shadows with his fists swinging once more. Or, worse, Father coming to hail another barrage of insults upon her. She tugged the earl toward the open library door.
“I need to speak with you,” she told Huntingdon.
“Helena,” he gritted, balking at her attempts to get him to go where she wished him. “What the devil are you doing?”
Being foolish, it would seem. And reckless. But that was hardly a new state for her.
“Hush,” she ordered. “This way, if you please. I must talk to you, and I fear this is the only chance I shall have.”
“There is nothing to be said,” he denied, remaining rooted to the carpets in the hall. “It has been a long day for me as I had to make innumerable sudden plans, and the last thing I wish to do is prolong it any further. I am taking my leave.”
There was everything to say, as far as she was concerned. He was still angry with her, and she could not blame him. She had not expected him to forgive her with haste, of course. But she could not help but to feel that if she did not make another attempt at explaining herself to him now, when the wounds were freshest, that it would be better for the both of them.
“Please, Huntingdon,” she said, pleading with him for the second time in as many days. “I cannot bear to leave things between us as they are now.”
“Curse you, Helena, have you not already done enough damage?” he demanded, his voice curt. Angry.
His words stung, because he was right—she had caused a great deal of damage for the both of them. His blue eyes flashed with fire, and this time it was not the sort derived from passion, but rather from rage. But she would not retreat.
“A few moments of your time,” she pressed. “No one will ever be the wiser. They think I am off in my chamber, napping and hiding from the shame of the last two days. No one is looking for me.”
At least, not as far as she knew. Her mother had been horrified by the impending scandal. She had taken to her rooms with the megrims the day before, and had yet to emerge. Helena suspected her mother’s absence had far more to do with her father’s ever-growing cloud of rage than with Helena herself.
Huntingdon’s jaw tightened, but he cast a look around and then relented. “A moment. No more. But cease touching me, if you please.”
His directive hurt. She withdrew her hand just the same. What choice did she have? If she were in his position, she did not know how she would feel.
Helena ventured into the library once more, all too aware of Huntingdon’s presence at her back. The man simply simmered, whether he was furious with her or not. He could be on the moon, and she would still long for him desperately. All she could do was pray she had not ruined every chance of making a match between them succeed.
