His gaze slipped away while he considered this. “It is true that I have held that view, though in recent days, I have come to consider the merit of the opposing perspective. Perhaps it is better for a couple to already have a measure of affection for each other before exchanging their vows, rather than simply hoping for the best in committing to a virtual stranger.”
“I would think the likelihood of a happy match might be increased.”
He chuckled and this time she had the satisfaction of seeing his amusement. Her heart nearly stopped when the dimple reappeared and his eyes glimmered. “I come to share your view, Miss Emerson.” He reached for his hat. “I bid you good day.”
“One last query, if you please, sir.” Helena smiled, her fingertips brushing his sleeve. Her aunt called from the parlor but it was easy to ignore the summons when the viscount looked at her with such avidity. “I wonder, then, if you might indulge in just one dance at Lady Haynesdale’s ball. To indulge in one small amusement might make it easier to adhere to the rest of your father’s injunctions. It also would do Lady Haynesdale honor as a hostess if you were to make such an exception.” She argued the matter too much and she knew it, but Helena desperately wanted to convince him.
“But none to a partner who so tempted me to dance?” he asked, his voice low.
Helena could not imagine how she had thought this man dull. He was alluring beyond all when he spoke to her thus. “Perhaps a little to the lady in question.”
He smiled and bent over her hand. “Perhaps more than a little, Miss Emerson.” Once again, he kissed her hand and she felt the slight brush of his mouth upon her skin, a most scandalous and wondrous sensation. He bent further to pat Mischief, then pivoted to leave, sparing a glance at the grey skies before he strode to his horse. Helena waited and watched, not truly surprised when he lifted his hand in farewell, his pose precisely that of her champion.
Would he renew his addresses? She could only hope.
Truly, if hoping could change future prospects, any reticence on the viscount’s part had no chance against the vigor of Helena’s desire.
Wednesday might have been an eternity away.
When he arrivedin Haynesdale Hollow, Joshua asked Mr. Darney to show him the way to Mrs. Lewis’ home. When they stood before the plain wooden door, down an alley from the main thoroughfare of Haynesdale Hollow, he spoke. “I would prevail upon you further, Mr. Darney, and request that you remain as my witness for this interview. I will see you compensated for your trouble, of course.”
“Your custom at the inn and the occasional favorable word amongst your fellow gentry is all the compensation I require, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darney.” Joshua raised a fist to knock.
The door was opened promptly as if the occupant was already aware of their arrival. A burly man stood there in his shirtsleeves, his expression forbidding. “Aye?”
“I seek Mrs. Lewis. Is she receiving visitors?”
“Receiving visitors,” the man said, sneering as he mimicked Joshua’s accent.
“Give us no trouble now, William,” Darney said. “This will be to your sister’s benefit.”
“Benefit,” the man, evidently named William, muttered, then turned to shout. “Alice! There’s agentlemanhere to speak with you.”
Joshua ignored his tone. The woman he had seen the week before appeared from a shadowed doorway, wiping her hands. Her gaze darted between the men with some concern. “What is it?” she asked as if she feared dreadful tidings.
“I have come about your son,” Joshua said. “Francis, who I met the other day. He is the son of my brother, Gerald, is he not?”
She lifted her chin. “He is.”
“Not as he ever cared about the boy,” William muttered. He retreated but did not leave the room, which was almost barren. He folded his arms across his chest and listened, his expression suspicious.
“Then he has Hargood blood,” Joshua said, removing the document from his jacket.
“Hargood blood,” William sneered. “Francis is your brother’s get and no fancy talk will change that fact.”
“I can see that he is my brother’s son,” Joshua replied. “And I have come to address that fact.”
“You cannot take him from me!” Mrs. Lewis protested.
“I have no such intention.”
“You all hated Gerald. Your father sent him away. Gerald said he would come back. He said he would marry me.”
“Perhaps that was his intention, but my brother will not return home again. I apologize if you were not informed that he died at Waterloo.”
“He never did,” she said darkly but Joshua could not begin to undermine her skepticism.
