Julia Justiss (12 page)

Looking even more distressed, Lady Darnell said, “It could mean the man has a desire to…to touch you, a dangerous offense which one must be ever vigilant to prevent, which is why unmarried young ladies do not venture anywhere without at least a maid to protect their virtue.”

Another thought occurred and Helena frowned, unable to reconcile her aunt’s differing advice. “You say that the sight of my naked ankles might engender dangerous heat in a man. But did you not urge me to order gowns that would reveal my chest and shoulders?
Would not baring those more intimate parts elicit even more undesirable heat?”

“Well, I suppose,” her aunt allowed, “but ’tis not undesirable to incite warmth in a
proper
gentleman.”

“A ton gentlemen, you mean? It is permissible for that sort of man to give me heated glances?” Helena asked, trying to discern exactly what was considered proper.

“Yes. No! That is, it is quite acceptable to display, only before true gentleman who are well-bred enough not to attempt to take liberties, a…a physical loveliness that excites the sort of admiration that would encourage that gentleman to court you for his wife.”

Finally Helena made the connection. “Ah, so a gentleman who stares in that way desires me for breeding.”

“Helena!” Lady Darnell cried, fanning herself. “You must never say such a thing! Oh, Charis, where are my smelling salts?”

While Helena stood, dismayed at the havoc her simple question had created, Charis found the vineagrette and waved it under Lady Darnell’s nose. “Calm yourself, dear ma’am! Let me assist you to your room.”

“Aunt Lillian, I am so sorry!” Helena cried.

Moaning, fingers to her temples, Lady Darnell did not reply. Over her stepmother’s shoulder as she led her away, Charis said softly, “She will be fine after she’s rested. I’ll come back in a trice and try to explain.”

As there seemed nothing else to do, Helena waited for Charis to return, feeling both guilty and exasperated. No wonder Lord Darnell had not wanted to discuss this before his stepmother. It seemed Society had compli
cated rules to govern what nature handled much more directly.

A few minutes later Charis appeared. Waving aside Helena’s apology, she said, “Bellemere’s nerves are easily overset—only recall the afternoon of your arrival! I expect that answering your question must seem to you quite straightforward, but as I suppose you’ve surmised, ’tis a matter of great delicacy generally not mentioned in Society. Usually a girl’s mama tells her how to properly elicit and respond to a gentleman’s…interest, but I expect you never received such instruction.”

“Will it distress you to explain?”

Charis smiled ruefully. “I can share the little I know, but girls aren’t told a great deal. I learned more watching the horses at Claygate Manor than my mother ever divulged! Gentlemen, of course, know more, but—”

“One cannot ask them,” Helena finished.

Charis laughed. “Exactly! They seem to…desire women, an impulse, from what I’ve gathered, akin to what stallions feel for mares. ’Tis apparently a very strong impulse, for girls are warned never to be caught alone with an unrelated man unless they are betrothed. If some man has directed lustful glances at you, tell Adam. Now that you are living with us, ’tis his responsibility to protect you.”

It hardly seemed politic to reveal that ’twas Lord Darnell with whom she had exchanged the lustful glances. “Am I in danger from such a man?”

“This part is more complicated,” Charis admitted.
“’Tis acceptable to excite a gentleman’s desire, for he knows he may not act upon his impulses unless he pledges to wed the lady who arouses them. It would be dangerous to elicit desire in a man not of your class, for whatever his intentions, you could not marry him. Fathers or brothers guard their female relations from men such as that.”

“Then men must suffer these feelings of desire until they marry? It sounds most…uncomfortable.”

“Well, there is a class of women who…who earn their living by satisfying men’s desires.” Charis’s cheeks, already pink, reddened further.

Fascinated, Helena said, “Do you know such women?”

“Heavens, no!” Charis replied with a giggle. “’Twould be most improper! A gently bred lady is not supposed to know such creatures exist. If you should notice one riding in the park or at the opera, you must pretend you haven’t seen her, even if she is quite obvious.”

Shaking her head at such willful ignorance, Helena said, “So it is permissible for a gentleman to gaze at you with desire—or for you to desire him, if you are to marry?”

Putting a hand to her hot cheeks, Charis gamely replied, “Yes, though ’tis quite brazen to admit it! An engaged couple is permitted to kiss and embrace, which sounds quite delightful. Brazen or not, I want the man I marry to desire
me,
not some grasping hussy in an opera box. But of course, a young lady must never—”

“Speak of it,” Helena finished wryly. “No wonder poor Aunt Lillian was so distressed! Thank you, Charis, for daring to enlighten me. Now, do you suppose Aunt Lillian is calm enough that I may go beg her pardon?”

“Yes, let us go up,” Charis agreed, looking relieved to be done discussing so obviously embarrassing a subject.

How was a woman to know how to respond to desire, Helena wondered as they climbed the stairs, if she was never to speak of it—not even to the man who desired her, or whom she in turn desired? It seemed a stupid sort of reticence that must surely lead to misunderstanding.

And how did a man mate with a woman? With the wild intensity of a stallion with a mare? Just thinking of Adam Darnell mounting her, his hands on her breasts, his teeth at her neck, set her blood coursing and sent a tingling warmth to her breasts, between her legs. She could well believe, as Charis had timidly confirmed, that a woman wanted a man to desire her.

Must a lady be wed to slake her desires? Obviously it was not required for men to be, since women existed to serve that sole purpose. Was desire elicited only by one particular person? A stallion, she knew, would mate with any willing mare. Were men and woman like horses in this?

It seemed her original question only led to more. Which, she now knew, she could not ask of Lady Darnell or even Charis, who had already told her all she knew.

How unfortunate she could not query Lord Darnell. The possibility that he found her desirable both excited and disturbed her. Was she so unconventional that to Darnell she seemed like one of those women meant to slake a man’s lust? Yet Charis also said that since Helena was now a part of his family, Darnell would feel obligated to protect her from the desires of ineligible men.

Even from his own?

For being promised to another, he could not wed her—even if she wished to wed, which she did not. Though, she thought a bit wistfully, the idea of marrying a man who both desired her and was as honorable and compassionate as Adam Darnell appeared to be almost tempted her to reconsider her stance. But, no, marriage was out of the question for a number of excellent reasons.

What a muddle! she concluded as she knocked on her aunt’s door. No wonder the attraction between them made Darnell so uneasy.

A
T THE DINNER THAT EVENING
which was to mark his triumph, Adam Darnell sat tense and disgruntled, trying to keep his attention from being drawn from his fiancée and her mother beside him to Miss Lambarth, placed near his stepmother and Mr. Standish at the other end of the table.

He could try to tell himself he was only concerned that she might embarrass Priscilla by using the wrong fork or spilling her wine. But that was a lie and he knew it.

He simply couldn’t rid himself of a sense of her presence. An unwanted, intangible awareness of her annoyed him constantly, like the mosquitoes that on many a Peninsular night had whined about his head, unable to be ignored or successfully swatted.

Nothing in her behavior should have drawn his eye, for she used all her utensils correctly and properly performed every ritual of courtesy. Her conversation was perfectly conventional as she prompted Mr. Standish to discuss the land management techniques he employed on his estates. But though her unadorned gown of violet silk covered her up to her chin, she said
nothing outlandish and committed not the smallest breach of etiquette, no amount of proper behavior could mask the passionate intensity she radiated to every man in the room.

The slightly protruding eyes of Priscilla’s first cousin and her father’s heir, Francis Standish, never left Miss Lambarth’s face…though fortunately did not drop to her bosom, which would have required Adam to plant him a facer. Nor could Priscilla’s father, prosing on about tares and staves, tear his gaze from her as she smiled and nodded.

Even Dix, between making conversation with his dinner partners, took every opportunity to turn and watch her…like a hound eyeing a beefsteak he’d like to devour, Adam thought sourly.

How could he not? Without making any overt attempt to do so, still the girl exuded sensuality.

Given what he knew of her father’s treatment of her, Adam supposed he could understand her initial refusal to consider marriage. But marrying her off would be the best, most socially acceptable way to dispose of her and the damnable temptation she posed—and the sooner, the better.

Despite her determination not to marry, Adam knew there were any number of ton gentleman of excellent character. Surely one of them, when she got to know him better, could lure her into matrimony.

And into his bed—the lucky dog, he thought with a sharp, unwanted stab of jealousy.

Until then, however, Adam could figure no way out of his obligation to let her remain in his house. After
casting a clandestine glance down the table and receiving in just that quick look a sense of connection as sharp as a shock, he felt he would almost rather be back in Belgium, riding all day through the mud while dodging a hail of shot and canister, than here in London, having to rub shoulders with Helena Lambarth in the close proximity of his house.

As the dinner progressed, he discovered that his problem was more than mere lust. He noted how Miss Lambarth deferred to Mr. Standish and, though the man was a dead bore, prompted him with questions and appeared completely absorbed in his answers. Nor could he help but notice that she’d made pains to include Priscilla’s shy cousin Emily in the conversation, rather than taking advantage of the curiosity even the female members of Priscilla’s family felt about her to make herself the center of attention.

That was kindness and modesty indeed, which he had to admit justified Charis’s high praise for the girl. Even now, his sister and stepmother sat smiling their approval at her exemplary behavior. The fact that Miss Lambarth had been so completely embraced by those ladies ought to relieve him, since it meant he’d not be consulted save on the most important decisions concerning the girl. Yet the obvious affection in which those ladies held her only demonstrated how sterling a character she must possess—something he’d rather not have to acknowledge.

Adam suppressed a curse. He didn’t
want
to like or admire Miss Lambarth. ’Twas bad enough that he was
forced to continue offering her the hospitality of his home, where she could so effectively cut up his peace.

To make matters worse, it had quickly become apparent that Priscilla had taken an immediate dislike to her. The moment his fiancée had set eyes on Miss Lambarth in the parlor before dinner, she had stiffened. Which, he supposed, was mostly his fault. Priscilla had been led to expect the girl would be an ill-behaved, scrawny orphan.

In the short time between his discovery of Helena’s transformation and the party tonight, Adam had tried to think of a way to warn his fiancée that Miss Lambarth was now radically different from the half-starved waif who had elicited his compassion in the lawyer’s office. However, caught in the throes of trying to control his strong physical response to the girl, he’d been afraid if he attempted a description, he would end up uttering something either too brief or too detailed.

Wanting at all costs to avoid the horror of having Priscilla, who was no fool, sense how intensely the girl affected him, as they sat together this afternoon in a sheltered alcove in the Standish garden, he’d limited himself to just the innocuous observation that his stepmother and Charis had managed to effect a marked improvement in the girl, which he hoped his fiancée would appreciate. Of course, they could not expect in just a few weeks to truly bring her up to snuff, so he trusted Priscilla would be kind enough to overlook any lapses.

Squeezing his hand, she had replied that she hoped
she would always treat every member of his family with the graciousness he expected of his wife—and lifted her face toward his.

He’d given her the kiss she obviously expected. And tried to ignore the fact that this brief salute upon her lips had not stirred his blood to anything like the pulse-pounding, heat-inducing furor Miss Lambarth had provoked tonight merely by walking into the room.

Which meant he must continue to avoid, to the extent possible, being in the same one with her. What bitter irony, he thought glumly, that the home for which he’d longed all through the hell of Waterloo and the long months of duty in Paris was no longer the haven he’d dreamed of, but a trap that might tempt him to the worst of follies—at least until he could fight his mind free of the spell cast by Helena Lambarth.

His nerves on the raw, Adam sighed with relief as Lady Darnell rose and signaled the ladies to withdraw. At last he could relax over a badly needed glass of port.

He had scarcely filled his glass when Dix strolled over, delivered a sharp punch to his side and introduced the very topic he wished to avoid. “Wretch!” his friend exclaimed. “Lady Darnell’s ward is exquisite! The only reason I shall not immediately challenge you to fisticuffs is that you allowed me to meet her first.”

That intent, heated glow in his friend’s eyes had not been provoked by Miss Lambarth’s conversation. Slim as the possibility was that Adam might have been mistaken about her effect on other men, he didn’t relish having his assumptions confirmed. “Need I remind
you that she is a lady and under my care?” he asked stiffly. “I expect you to treat her as such.”

“Of course!” Dix replied, sounding a bit affronted. “I’m a gentleman, after all. ’Tis well that you are already vigilant about men who aren’t, however. I shall be happy to help you protect her—and you needn’t worry that I’ll drool all over her, as I feared young Standish was about to during dinner.”

Anxious to end a conversation that only deepened his annoyance, Adam said sharply, “Perhaps you should remember the destination to which admiring a young lady might lead.”

Dixon merely chuckled. “I admit, I’ve hitherto scoffed at marriage, but since you’ve hurtled the breech, perhaps it’s not quite the disaster I’ve always envisioned it. And with a prize that alluring…”

Allure, Adam thought acidly. If one could bottle the essence that surrounded the girl, women would storm the shops to purchase it.

Adam’s future father-in-law walked up. “I say, Darnell, ’tis quite an interesting chit your stepmama’s taken up. I’d heard she was odd and ill-dressed, but I found her nothing of the sort! Asked quite knowledgeable questions about my estate. Ah, ah, taking little puss.”

Standish’s eyes held the same gleam as Dix’s, Adam noted with disgust.

“Rumor at the clubs says she’s quite an heiress! I suppose I should be glad my gel brought you up to scratch before she arrived.” Standish cleared his throat. “I trust, despite her presence, you’ll remember what’s due my Priscilla.”

Though he might be inwardly struggling with his attraction to the girl, not even from his future father-in-law would Adam tolerate such a questioning of his honor. Fixing Mr. Standish with the cold stare that had, in his army days, reduced many a subordinate to stammering incoherency, Adam said softly, “What do you mean to infer?”

Flushing, Mr. Standish took a step back from the menace in Adam’s eyes. “Nothing at all! Just…making conversation. So, what is the chit worth, anyway?”

Still bristling, Adam replied, “I am not her guardian. Her assets were placed in trust with her mother’s lawyer, who led me to believe she was well provided for.”

Standish gestured toward his heir. “The way Francis stared at her all through dinner, I’m sure there’s an interest there, eh, my boy? Should she come into wealth, ’twould be a good match, don’t you think?”

Francis glanced toward the door through which the ladies had exited, a salacious look on his face. “I just might be persuaded to fix my interest there.”

The thought of the oily Francis getting his hands on Helena was so nauseating, Adam was once again tempted to plant the man a facer.

“Not a responsibility I’d want, watching over a girl with her looks,” Mr. Standish continued, giving Adam a collegial slap on the back. “I expect you’ll be beating off the gentlemen. You’d be wise to get her wed before some rake tries to, ah, sample her charms.”

Telling himself that Standish meant well, Adam reined in his temper. “I’ll be sure to give your advice
the weight it merits,” he said, striding to the sideboard before irritation tempted him to say something unwise. Meeting him there, a sympathetic Dix rolled his eyes as he refreshed Adam’s glass.

“Have no fear,” his friend murmured. “I’ll carry her off myself before I’d let fish-faced Francis have her.”

He ought to be glad of Dix’s assistance. But instead of relief, the knowledge that while he must avoid her, his friend might freely solicit Miss Lambarth’s company angered Adam so much he had to bite back a sharp reply.

Suddenly rejoining the ladies and bringing this evening to an end seemed like a good idea after all.

I
N THE PARLOR
,
HELPING
Aunt Lillian prepare to serve tea, Helena waited for the party to be over. As she’d feared, once the novelty of eating dinner in company faded, the meal had become rather tedious.

After introductions and some stilted chat in the parlor, they’d proceeded to the dining room, where Mrs. Standish had stridently directed the conversation at her end of the table and Mr. Standish monopolized the talk at his. Interested in estate management, Helena had remained mostly silent as the man prosed on while she nodded and smiled until her cheeks ached. Still, she thought it rather poor behavior on the part of this supposedly elevated member of the ton that he’d hardly let Lady Darnell utter two sentences all evening.

On her other side sat Miss Standish’s cousin Emily, a meek slip of a girl clearly intimidated by the relations with whom she resided. Feeling sorry for the girl, in
the few moments her own attention was not demanded by Mr. Standish, Helena had attempted to get her to talk.

The only person of interest besides her aunt and Charis was Darnell’s friend Mr. Dixon. Though he sat too far away for her to engage him in conversation and properly devoted his attention to his dinner partners, occasionally she’d caught him gazing at her. Each time he gave her a wink, as if he were amused by a joke he wished her to share. Perhaps when the gentlemen returned she might have a chance to speak with him.

Darnell himself had ignored her. Though he played the gracious host, responding to all the sallies directed at him by Mrs. Standish and his fiancée, his strained expression seemed to indicate he was not enjoying himself. As for Miss Standish, even the most sanguine observer could not have interpreted the occasional look she directed at Helena to be either approving or congenial. Besides which, in Helena’s opinion, Darnell’s fiancée seemed far too ready to second every strident opinion her mother uttered.

If that behavior gave any evidence of the way in which her character was evolving, Helena felt sorry for Darnell.

The parlor door opened and the gentlemen filed in, followed by the butler with the tea tray. As the men gathered at the table awaiting their cups, Helena bent her attention to performing her task, not wishing to embarrass her aunt by spilling anything or mixing up the orders.

A shadow fell over her fingers. She looked up to
find an unsmiling Miss Standish before her. “What a lovely gown, Miss Lambarth, and of such unusual styling! I recall my governess used to prefer gowns cut high upon the throat like that. As it is not quite what is currently in fashion, I expect dear Lady Darnell must have a great fondness for you, to indulge your whims in such a matter.”

Looking over from the cup she was filling to smile at her aunt, Helena replied, “I could not wish for someone more loving or considerate.”