Neither Gerald nor Charlotte had given any sign of their apparent affection before that night. Neither had confessed the truth to him, which meant they were both willing for Joshua to wed Charlotte as arranged. He knew without doubt that their relations would continue after his own nuptial vows were exchanged with the lady. Gerald never surrendered a pleasure for the sake of propriety. He could not imagine that Charlotte would be able to resist the invitations of the man she truly loved.
Would the infants presented as his sons truly have been Gerald’s sons? The notion was sickening. Joshua paced his room, heartsick once again. He had lost a betrothed and a brother in that night, as well as any inclination to trust another.
He had not been able to mourn Charlotte, not knowing of her deception. He had never loved her, though he had been fond of her. If he had loved her, he would have been destroyed by her deceit.
He remembered now his resolve on that morning that he would never risk loving a woman.
He stared out at this morning, the sky turning pink above the forest that sheltered his mother’s garden folly. His heart clenched at even the thought of Miss Emerson and her enticing kisses. Her enthusiasm was seductive—and dangerous. Whoknew how many kisses she had returned with such ardor? Who knew how many men would capture her attention in future?
Who might have guessed that she could persuade him to abandon his promise to his father in so short a time? Miss Emerson was perilous to his convictions, and worse, the price of his surrender to temptation might be the lady herself.
All could have gone awry the night before and readily so. He should not have taken her for a ride in the moonlight. He should not have taken such a risk.
No, the lady was right in her refusal of him: they would not suit. If he ignored what had to be a fleeting and thus unreliable desire and considered the matter with his usual logic, he could see that any joy Helena might bring him would be short-lived.
He could be a good husband to her, but he would not make her happy—thus she would not be a good wife to him. Captain Emerson had been right and he knew his sister far better than Joshua ever would.
He was fortunate that she had refused him, although on this particular morning, Joshua Hargood did not feel lucky in the least.
First thing that next morning,Joshua rode toward the ruins of the medieval keep with a small party of men. If someone had taken up occupation there, he should see them routed in the duke’s absence. He was accompanied by half a dozen men from Addersley Manor and they rode in silence down the road and past Bramble Cottage.
He did not so much as glance toward that structure.
They found no one in the ruins, though there were indications that someone had sheltered there in the cellar. Therehad been a fire kindled near the door recently, given the ashes left behind. Joshua found some refuse, perhaps the remains of a meal, tossed in a corner of the cellar. It had not decomposed or been eaten by wild creatures, hinting that it had not been there long. There were boot prints in the dirt, and he guessed that it had been one man alone.
One of the men with him spied boot prints dried in the mud. It had not rained for several days, but the prints in the dirt hinted that the visitor had been here after the mud had dried. He sent his men into the woods surrounding the ruin but they found little more.
There was no one to rout. It was not possible for him to keep a watch upon the place from the distance of Addersley Manor and the ruins were not his to monitor.
He could only hope that the man, whoever he was, did not become more bold and trouble those at Bramble Cottage. It was the closest residence, a fact that Joshua heartily disliked. Perhaps Miss Emerson would remain inside at night, showing some uncharacteristic temperance.
He shook his head at the very notion. At least she could not venture far with her injured ankle.
Joshua summoned his men and turned toward home, resolving to tell the duke of this as soon as that man returned.
In the meantime, it was his obligation to warn the residents of Bramble Cottage. He would keep his visit brief—even though his anticipation rose with every step closer.
Becky,it seemed, was to be Helena’s constant companion in future.
She argued against this edict from her aunt, citing her injured ankle as evidence that she could not find much trouble. Aunt Fanny only snorted, making it clear that no one believed Helena’s tale of looking at the stars.
Her aunt left the two of them in the garden, Helena’s embroidery at the ready. Becky dutifully did some mending for Helena’s aunt, her stitches so small and neat that Helena saw no point in even attempting to echo them.
The sound of a party of horses was a welcome distraction.
The appearance of Lord Addersley sent a surprising surge of pleasure through Helena. She told herself that she was simply glad of a diversion but it was more than that. When his gaze slid over her with an appreciation he quickly disguised, she tingled to her very toes, feeling that she had glimpsed a secret he would have preferred to hide.
Greetings were exchanged, though he did not take a seat. “I wished to ensure that you have not been troubled here at Bramble Cottage of late,” he said, his manner particularly formal.
“Troubled by whom?” Helena asked.
He frowned into the distance, clearly distracted. “There have been reports of men in the ruins, so in the duke’s absence, I felt obliged to see if there was truth in the rumor.”
“The ruins?”
“The ruins of old Haynesdale castle,” Becky provided. “They have been there since the time of King Arthur.”
Helena looked to the viscount for affirmation of this, but he was watching Becky with some amusement. “I think not so long as that, Becky,” he said. “The motte-and-bailey was likely a twelfth century structure. When it finally burned several hundred years later, the lords of Haynesdale moved their abode to its current location.”
