Julia Justiss (25 page)

“Good heavens!” Mrs. Standish exclaimed. “Francis, whatever is the matter?”

“I am feeling…suddenly indisposed. You will excuse me, please.” Hand to his mouth, he hurried from the room.

A
T HIS END OF THE TABLE
, Adam had to smile at Francis Standish’s loss of composure. For once paying little attention to his fiancée, he had been surreptitiously watching Francis and Helena all through dinner.

Though his ire had cooled somewhat, he was still furious after speaking with Johnson when he arrived home from the park. As incredible as it seemed that anyone would be reckless or mean-spirited enough to deliberately cause Pegasus to bolt, there appeared no other explanation for the thorn Dix told the groom Miss Lambarth had removed from the animal’s flank. Johnson had adamantly insisted nothing of the sort would have been overlooked when he saddled Pegasus before her ride. Nor were there any bramble patches she would have traversed in the London streets between St. James Square and Hyde Park.

Besides, Pegasus had behaved perfectly until
Helena remounted after walking the animal beside Francis—who was the only one close enough to have tampered with the saddle blanket. Though Miss Lambarth’s performance with the apple tonight had been outrageous, he could only applaud the fear she had so cleverly induced in Francis Standish. Which showed the man to be a coward as well as a sneak.

Standish deserved more than a good fright, Adam thought fiercely. His breath hitched as he recalled the horror he’d felt when Helena’s horse had bolted. Were it not for her exceptional riding skill, she might at this moment be laid out in a winding sheet instead of sitting at this table. A shudder rippling through him at the thought, he uttered a silent prayer of thanks for her safety.

He didn’t know why Standish would have wanted to perpetrate such a prank. But though he refused to believe Priscilla would have initiated such a scheme, given the disparaging comments she had addressed to Helena during the drive and at dinner tonight, he suspected she might have encouraged Francis to do something to show Miss Lambarth at a disadvantage. He intended to interrogate her about the matter as soon as they had an opportunity in private.

Recalling Priscilla’s petty remarks in front of the company earlier this evening, Adam frowned. The ladies met frequently when making social calls. Did his fiancée speak as slightingly to Helena when he was not around to object? Though Miss Lambarth had never complained of such treatment, he meant to question Priscilla about that, too.

Belatedly he noticed that Mrs. Standish had risen to lead the ladies out and jumped to his feet. Since all the guests were proceeding to other entertainments, he would be spared making stilted conversation over brandy and cigars.

His mind still racing, Adam watched them file out. Helena, gowned once again in her favorite scarlet, walked out last, her head high and her carriage graceful.

He’d hardly seen her since that night in the library. He hardly knew what to say when he did see her.

He’d hoped that if he stayed on his guard and concentrated on his role as head of the family, he might keep his attraction under control. And he
had
honestly meant only to comfort her when he’d taken her in his arms.

But once she’d calmed, he simply hadn’t been able to let her go without finally, finally tasting her lips. True, he’d kept the kiss gentle, hadn’t parted her lips and plunged his tongue within to ravage her mouth as he did in the dreams that troubled him far too often.

In fact, he realized suddenly, though desire and pleasure had sung in his veins as he held her, he hadn’t
wanted
to ravage her, not with her still so upset. Somehow lust and tenderness and compassion and affection had gotten all mixed up inside him, until he wasn’t sure where one left off and another began. He certainly couldn’t predict when one irresistible impulse would shift to another.

He both regretted kissing her and was thrilled he’d kissed her. He’d felt as if his whole soul
expanded with gladness and humble awe when she granted him her trust—she who had been given so little reason to trust any man.

Lord, it was such a muddle.

All he knew was that he’d felt more terror while he watched Helena cling to that bolting horse, more tenderness and affection as he held her in his arms, more desire as he gently kissed her than he’d ever felt for his fiancée.

It would be dishonorable to break the pledge he’d made to marry Priscilla Standish. But how could it be honorable to wed a girl he was becoming increasingly convinced he did not and never would love?

Especially when he was beginning to believe ’twas Helena Lambarth who had captured his heart.

H
AVING CELEBRATED HER ESCAPE
from the company at Grosvenor Square, Helena was dismayed when, halfway through the musicale the Darnell ladies attended after dinner, she looked up to see the Standish party arrive.

The group halted at the entrance to the refreshment room where their hostess had escorted her guests while the second set of musicians tuned their instruments. Though Charis and Lady Darnell at once walked over to greet Adam and his fiancée, Helena hesitated, not sure she could force herself to be polite to Priscilla three times in one day.

To her surprise, Miss Standish and Lady Cordelia waved and began walking toward her.

Satisfied as Helena was to have put a scare into Priscilla’s cousin, she doubted Francis would have had time to warn Priscilla not to trifle with her again. Still, how much damage could she do in a drawing room? Helena need only parry the girl’s falsely sweet words without losing her temper—difficult as that might prove.

“Dear Miss Lambarth,” Priscilla said as they
reached her, “we have yet to manage a comfortable cose today. Shall we rectify that omission? Cordelia told me of the extraordinary adventures you were relating at dinner.”

“I recounted some incidents about which I had read.”

“And you are so well-read,” Priscilla commented. “Charis tells me you are studying philosophy—in Greek!”

“Even if Papa were to permit me to examine such a heathenish tongue, which I’m sure he would not,” Lady Cordelia interjected, “I should never presume myself clever enough to study a subject normally reserved for gentlemen.”

Tired of hearing what females were or were not supposed to do—and under no obligation to be conciliating to Lady Cordelia—Helena said, “How fortunate that you recognize your limitations.”

Lady Cordelia flashed her a look full of animosity. “But I understand you are more enterprising than a gently bred female in many ways, Miss Lambarth.”

“Indeed,” Priscilla said. “Traveling all the way to London on the common mail coach—without even a maid!”

From the periphery of her vision, Helena noted other guests drawing near, heads inclined to catch the conversation. Miss Standish had aimed enough barbed comments at her during various afternoon calls—when Adam was not present—that his fiancée’s hostility to Helena was probably well known.

Why not give all these eager observers the show they were expecting? Helena thought. Having worn
out her patience for ignoring Priscilla’s baiting during their previous meetings today, she replied, “I rode on the roof, too. You mustn’t omit that little detail.”

“But that wasn’t the boldest of her adventures!” Lady Cordelia said. “Priscilla, did you not tell me Miss Lambarth actually prowled about London at night, disguised as a boy? Oh!” she exclaimed, putting a hand to her lips with a look of mock dismay. “Dear me! I forgot I wasn’t supposed to mention that. Pray, excuse me, Miss Lambarth!”

Someone gasped and the matrons nearest them froze. A sudden silence spread across the room, until even Darnell and Lord Blanchard, conversing near the door, looked up.

Miss Standish glanced at Helena, both anxiety and triumph in her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure ’twas all a hum—wasn’t it, Miss Lambarth?” she said nervously.

“No, it wasn’t!” Lady Cordelia interposed. “Priscilla, you swore to me ’twas absolute truth!”

Stricken to realize that Darnell must have divulged her escapade to his fiancée, Helena studied the girl, who seemed unable to decide whether she was glad or sorry to have her betrayal of Darnell’s confidence revealed. But though Miss Standish had offered her a possible avenue of escape, Helena never considered taking refuge in a lie.

Besides, true or not, when added to her previous social missteps, the allegation alone would probably achieve Miss Standish’s obvious desire: creating an on-dit scandalous enough to permanently discredit the girl she perceived as her rival.

“Why, no, Miss Standish, ’twas quite true,” Helena replied calmly. “I even watched the horse of Lord Blanchard’s friend outside White’s.” Gesturing toward the diplomat, she switched into the tones of one of Dickon’s street mates. “’Old yer ’orse fer a copper, me lord?’”

In the now silent room, her words carried clearly to every guest. While Lord Blanchard’s jaw dropped, Helena watched shock and disbelief wash over the faces of those nearest her. Despite her paucity of experience, she knew there were limits to the eccentricities Society would excuse because of her wealth. In the outraged or dismayed looks she was now receiving, she read that she had just bypassed those limits.

But when her defiant gaze met Lady Darnell’s stricken face, she realized her downfall would not be hers alone.

Not unless she acted quickly to distance herself from the family that had become so dear to her. Already Charis, recovering from Lady Cordelia’s pronouncement, had stepped in her direction, while Adam, a furious scowl on his face, was striding toward her.

Before he could reach her, she said softly for Priscilla’s ears alone, “If you expended as much passion trying to please Adam as you have in disparaging me, you’d both be much happier.”

Meanwhile, like marionettes controlled by the same strings, the rest of the guests drew back. Stepping forward to intercept Adam, Helena said urgently, “Don’t bother about me! Tend to Aunt Lillian and Charis.”

“You can’t think I’ll just abandon you—”

“Please, Adam! Don’t let my disgrace become theirs.”

For a moment he hesitated. Then, recognizing the truth of her words, he nodded. “All right—for now. But don’t think this is over yet.” After giving her hand a quick squeeze, he proceeded past her to his fiancée.

With a withering glare, Adam clamped a hand on Priscilla’s arm and led her toward Charis, Lady Cordelia scurrying after them. Standing alone in the center of the floor, Helena could almost see opinions that had been teetering between amusement and censure turn against her.

How sad Society is, she thought. All these people so trapped by their ridiculous code of rules that matrons and suitors who had flattered her and solicited her company a moment ago no longer dared meet her gaze.

Even Lady Jersey, after giving Helena a tiny, pitying shake of her head, turned away without speaking. Other guests hastened to follow her example. Helena was wondering whether she should wait until they had all exited before departing herself when a voice rang out.

“Pray, Miss Lambarth, lend me your arm.”

Helena turned to see Lady Seagrave approaching her. After first encountering the woman in Lady Jersey’s parlor, Helena had often noticed Lady Seagrave watching her when they chanced to be at the same gathering, had even exchanged a few words with her at several functions. Toward the mother of the wild young man
Helena’s
mother had loved and fled to,
Helena felt some of the same mix of gratitude and resentment she’d always harbored for the son.

Those emotions gave way to puzzlement as Lady Seagrave reached her side. Had the exile of Gavin Seagrave for killing a jealous husband in a duel made his mother sympathetic to other victims of scandal? Helena wondered.

“Madame.” Helena curtseyed to the older woman.

Lady Seagrave placed her hand on Helena’s arm. “I find the room has grown suddenly…chilly. I wish to return home. Would you drive with me, please?”

Helena, too, had to get home—and it would not be wise to count on claiming a seat in the Darnell carriage. Still curious why Lady Seagrave was suddenly befriending her, Helena said, “Are you sure you dare take me?”

The older woman smiled. “Are you sure you dare leave with me? Yes? Then let us go.” Murmuring her thanks to their still speechless hostess, Lady Seagrave clasped Helena’s arm and guided her firmly out of the room.

As if by agreement, neither spoke until they were seated in the carriage. “Thank you for your assistance, Lady Seagrave,” Helena said. “If you would set me down at Darnell House, I should be most appreciative.” She smiled sardonically. “I expect it would be prudent for me to begin packing at once.”

“Don’t you wish to know why I intervened?”

Helena shrugged and raked the woman with a scornful glance. “Because it amused you?” she suggested.

To her surprise, tears began to glimmer in the older woman’s eyes. “Ah, how like him you look—full of scorn and ready to defy the world! So like your father.”

Helena stiffened. “I would thank you not to liken me to Lambarth, madame.”

Lady Seagrave smiled through her tears. “Never would I do so, my dear! I meant your true father—my son Gavin.”

“My true—! Helena gasped. For a moment, shock held her immobile. “Are you claiming that Gavin Seagrave is my father?” she demanded at last.

Lady Seagrave nodded. “Indeed I am. ’Tis a rather long story. Why don’t you come home with me and let me tell it to you?”

Numb with astonishment and silenced by an incoherent jumble of disbelief, grief and curiosity, Helena allowed Lady Seagrave to conduct her to her North Audley Street town house and shepherd her up to her parlor.

When they were both settled, Lady Seagrave began, “From his earliest years, Gavin was wild—passionate, impulsive, ready to fight at the first perceived slight, just as quick to forgive. He’d wooed his share of ladies, but when he met your mother, they fell instantly and completely in love. From that moment Diana favored only Gavin, ignoring Vincent Lambarth, who had courted her for months. Though her family—your late grandparents—thought Gavin too unsteady and refused his suit, she would have wed him anyway—if not for the duel.”

Lady Seagrave sighed. “A trumped-up affair. To
protect her actual lover, the married lady in question named Gavin as her paramour, expecting he would deny it and that her husband would let the matter drop. But once insulted, Gavin insisted on having satisfaction. They met, the husband died and Gavin had to flee England.”

“So what makes you think he’s my father?”

“Diana, as you could imagine, was heartbroken at Gavin’s sudden departure. Then within the week, her family announced she was to marry Lambarth. Even at the time I thought the unseemly haste more than just an attempt to distance her from Gavin’s disgrace, but being persona non grata to the Foresters, I was not permitted to see her. Even if I had, suspecting what I did, how could I urge her to refuse Lambarth and wait for Gavin, when neither of us knew where he was or when we might hear from him again? By the time he did contact me, ’twas too late. Diana had married Lambarth and gone with him to Cornwall.”

“All you’ve told me are your own suspicions,” Helena said flatly. “Have you any real proof?”

“Patience, my dear. After a few years, I heard there was a child. I kept hoping Lambarth would bring the family to London, but he never did. Then my son contacted me, saying he’d sent agents into Cornwall to check on your mother and learned she was grievously unhappy. He was determined to rescue her and her child, and take them back to the estate he’d settled in the Caribbean. As you know, that rescue was not entirely successful. It wasn’t until after his men brought the hysterical Diana to him that she told him
the child she’d borne—the child they’d failed to free—was not Lambarth’s daughter, but his.”

“Mama told him that?” Helena demanded.

“Yes.”

“You swear this is the truth?”

“I swear it.”

“But…” Helena shook her head. “Mama wrote me letters—many, many letters over the years. Not even when she knew she was dying did she inform
me
Lambarth was not my real father. Why would she not, if it were true?”

“After their second rescue attempt failed, Diana and Gavin believed Lambarth when he vowed he would see you dead before he would relinquish you. Not daring to attempt another rescue, Gavin engaged the best lawyers in England to find some legal way for Diana to wrest you from Lambarth. But as his acknowledged daughter, legally they could do nothing. So Lambarth had his revenge, making them live knowing he held Diana’s beloved child in his power.”

“That still doesn’t explain why Mama didn’t tell me in one of her letters. Or why you are only now coming forward, when I have met you on several occasions.”

“Since Lambarth refused to divorce Diana or release you, what point would there have been in telling you? Your parents’ only hope was that you would survive until Lambarth was dead or incapacitated enough that you could be freed. Then, as either heiress of Lambarth’s estate or in possession of the fortune Diana had amassed, you could claim a respected place in
Society. A place that would never be granted the illegitimate daughter of a man who’d fled England in disgrace.

“For the same reason,” she continued, “I dared not show too much interest in you, for though in voice and profile you favor Diana, in coloring and stature you are all Gavin. The resemblance would be only too obvious had he not been absent from England for so many years. Even now, ’tis striking enough that some might recall the old scandal and remark upon it, were I to spend much time in your company. And so…I watched from a distance, my heart breaking that Gavin was not here to see you. That I could not claim my only grandchild as my own.”

Still not sure she believed it, Helena said wryly, “A grandchild who has caused a scandal nearly as great as the one created by the man you say is my father. Are you sure you want to acknowledge me?”