“Oh, but I would,” she assured him. “Next to a duke, a highwayman would be the most enticing of men to encounter, especially one who stole from the rich to give to the poor as Robin Hood was said to do.” She sighed. “So dashing and dangerous, but governed by a noble need to ensure the welfare of all. Of course, he would be handsome and reckless, braver than most men.”
There was another of those painful silences.
Then the viscount cleared his throat slightly. “If not a nobleman in disguise?” he asked.
If his expression had not been so impassive, she might have thought he teased her.
“Oh! A duke and a highwayman both! That would be best of all!” Helena agreed and he shook his head as he looked down, as if she were a foolish child. His lashes were dark and thick, and Helena wondered whether they were as soft as they looked.
She also wondered what he was thinking.
This time, she waited in silence, though it was a ferocious challenge.
“You would have liked my brother, Gerald,” he said finally, his voice husky.
“Is he dead?” she asked in a horrified whisper and he nodded once. How could he insist that he was not ancient when his brother had already passed away? He might himself be at death’s door, despite his assurances. “I am sorry,” she whispered, knowing she had blundered, and impulsively put her hand on his sleeve. She could feel the tense strength of his forearm beneath the cloth and she thought she heard the viscount inhale sharply.
Just as the pages had noted.
She had no opportunity to see if his eyes had darkened again, for he rose abruptly to his feet.
“I regret that I have an appointment,” he said, then bowed to her. Helena offered her hand and he bent over it after a moment’s hesitation, then kissed its back. She felt the heat of his lips through her glove, which was inordinately thrilling.
“It has been a delight to meet you, Miss Emerson,” he said politely. “Perhaps our paths might cross again.”
She knew she should not ask, but she could not help herself. “Will you be attending Lady Haynesdale’s ball?” The more gentlemen in attendance, the better, in her view. She hoped to dance for the entire evening.
“Yes, Lord Addersley, will you be?” Lady Haynesdale asked, returning with Aunt Fanny in such a timely manner that Helenaknew their conversation had been followed by the two older ladies. “You have not given me your reply.”
“I should be delighted, Lady Haynesdale,” he said, his tone decisive.
“How wonderful!” Lady Haynesdale enthused. “I am pleased.”
“Doubtless you will be overwhelmed with partners,” Aunt Fanny said.
He looked a little grim at the prospect. “As mentioned earlier, I do not dance.”
Helena was not truly surprised. Perhaps he was too old to dance well. Elderly people could have arthritis and rheumatism. Helena knew this because of her aunt’s consistent complaints. Perhaps he had sustained an injury in his youth that precluded such merry doings now that he was so aged. Or perhaps he was going deaf, like Aunt Fanny, and could not hear the music.
Truly, the possibilities of infirmity were sufficient to make a person wish to die young.
“In the meantime, perhaps you might visit Addersley Manor,” the viscount said to Aunt Fanny, whose features lit at the unexpected invitation. He granted Helena a polite smile, one that convinced her she had imagined any roguish glint or darkening hue of his eyes. “Miss Emerson may pick a puppy from the new litter in my stables, if she chooses.”
“How generous you are, Lord Addersley!” Aunt Fanny cooed, her eyes alight with familiar ambition.
“But I wager it will become a large dog,” Helena guessed, hoping to provoke his smile again.
Her effort failed. “Undoubtedly, Miss Emerson. You will be able to see the parents to gauge your expectations.” That twinkle did not reappear, much to her disappointment. “Good day, ladies.”
Then he was gone and the room seemed to echo with his absence. Helena went to the window, hoping to glimpse his departure, though she told herself that she simply sought a diversion from the topic of roses. The viscount rode a horse alone, a large chestnut hunter, and urged it to a canter as he left the drive. He did make a fine figure as he rode away.
The wind was not wild on this day, but if he had removed his hat, surely his hair would have been tousled in a most satisfactory manner.
He did not look back at the house, which disgruntled Helena a little, if for no good reason.
Evidently life in the country had bored her beyond desperation. She took solace in anyone’s companionship and contrived tales to make them more interesting than they were. Perhaps she would descend into madness in such isolation and end her days, confined to some horrible institution, but imagining herself at court.
She returned to her tea, wishing there was a way to convince Aunt Fanny to return to London. Did she wish a large dog? Helena could not be certain, but his offer was generous. And she was curious about Addersley Manor.
