Loving Helen (14 page)

“Forgive me for not wanting to make public news of my rejection.” Samuel rose from his chair and began pacing the room.

“I do not blame you,” Christopher said, returning to stand before the fire. “But Lord Sutherland will, and so we must remove you from the landscape if we are to reunite the unhappy couple.”

“And how do you hope to accomplish that?” Samuel asked. “Am I to return to London for a season? Or is that not far enough to appease my stubborn neighbor? Perhaps I should be forced to the continent.” He sounded almost as bitter as Nicholas.

“The problem has little to do with your whereabouts,” Christopher said.

“How else do you plan to
remove
me then?” Samuel asked. “Ought I to be fearful for my life?” He gave a short, harsh laugh. “What outrageous plan have you for my demise?”

Christopher folded his arms in front of him. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth twisted in thought as he appraised Samuel. “Marriage.”

“Most amusing.” Samuel decided he was definitely upset with Christopher.

“It is not amusing at all,” Helen said, surprising Samuel. “That was most unkind.”

He turned to look at her, having almost forgotten she was in the room, and found her glaring at her brother.

Good,
he thought.
Someone needs to set the whelp straight.

As if attempting to fend them off, Christopher held up his hands. “Hear me out,” he pled. “I only meant that we must make it appear to Lord Sutherland that your” — he looked pointedly at Samuel — “
interests
lie elsewhere. We both know the lengths the man will go to preserve his pride and hold on to his anger. But he loves Grace; I know he does,” Christopher said. “I’ve heard as much from his own lips. However, he
believes
that she cares for
you
. And he feels he has been played a fool.”

“Are you proposing …” Samuel waited, not really wanting to hear the young Mr. Thatcher’s suggestion but half suspecting he might be on the right path.

One that will reunite Grace and Nicholas. What is
right
about that?

“I have in mind a simple deception,” Christopher said. “We must convince Lord Sutherland that you are betrothed to another young lady. Then — and only then — will he consider trusting Grace again.”

Samuel rolled his eyes. The scheme was as preposterous as he’d feared. “And where do I find such a young lady? It’s not as if I can put an advertisement in the paper for a temporary fiancée.”

“No,” Christopher agreed. “That would not be good, and it wouldn’t work besides. The ploy must be believable, so the young lady should be one you have known for some time.”

Samuel pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing a headache coming on. “I could ask one of the Middleton girls. The oldest, Beatrice, has had her eye on me for quite some time. Then again, she has also been after every unattached male within the parish.”

“That
could
work.” Christopher nodded his head slowly.

Samuel scowled. “I was jesting. I’ve no desire to marry a Middleton, or any other woman around here, which is
exactly
what would happen were I to pretend betrothal to one. I won’t do it. I care for Grace deeply, and I wish her happiness, but there are limits to my help. I cannot involve myself with another woman on
any
pretext, if for no other reason than the little girl asleep in the nursery upstairs. I cannot risk anything that might hurt Beth.”

“Well said,” Helen agreed quietly.

“I see what you mean.” Christopher turned toward the fire once more, bracing his hands on the mantel. “You cannot risk your daughter becoming attached to a woman she does not know. We must take care not to hurt Beth or disrupt her life. And … you need a woman willing to play along. One who would not reveal Beth’s identity. Which leaves us only one choice.” He pushed off the mantel and strode purposely to the corner of the room. “Helen will have to do it.”

Several seconds of stunned silence followed this suggestion, as if both parties concerned were so horrified that their voices had failed them.

“No,” Samuel and Helen finally said, both speaking at once.

“I cannot,” Helen said. “How could you, Christopher?” Her fingers clenched the sewing in her lap.

“She cannot,” Samuel agreed. “Why would you make such an absurd suggestion?” One more stupidity like that, and the young Mr. Thatcher would find himself out on his ear.

“What is absurd about it?” Christopher spoke in a calm, level voice. “You and Helen have known each other for some time now. She has resided on your property these three months, during the last of which you took nearly every meal together and spent a great deal of time in each other’s company. Were the two of you to develop a sudden affection for each other, it would seem both natural and believable.”

“Perhaps if Miss Helen were older,” Samuel said, returning to the formality they had used up until the weeks before Christmas, when they
had
spent so much time together. He glanced her way and was not surprised to find her sitting very still, with her head bent.

She is afraid of men,
he might have added. And she certainly was not ready for marriage — not ready even to pretend it.

“I am nearly eighteen and six months.” She spoke to her lap. “Though you see me as only your daughter’s playmate, many women my age are already married.”

Christopher’s mouth quirked in a smile. “You see?” He placed a hand on Helen’s shoulder and squeezed gently.

“I mean no offense, Miss Helen,” Samuel hastened to say, feeling somehow that he had already offended her, “but realistically, would you be able to pull such a thing off? You do not seem to care for being close to other people. You and I are somewhat comfortable around each other now, but that has taken months, and we are yet nowhere near the ease of a betrothed couple. Could you pretend an engagement if that required being touched by or in close proximity to me frequently and around other people? ”

The clock ticked quietly as he waited for her reply. Christopher looked as if he wished to speak, but Samuel shook his head and mouthed “wait” while nodding to Helen.

Another minute passed before she lifted her head; she did so not looking at either man, but instead at the vase of roses on the table in the center of the room. “I regret that you have noticed my difficulty, Mr. Preston. I assure you it is not personal, but I apologize all the same. I have enjoyed your company on every occasion. But you bring up a good point. I am not like other young ladies my age. I prefer staying home to going out. I prefer sewing doll clothes for Beth —” she held up the miniature gown she was working on — “over spending my evenings in a crowded salon or attending a ball. Marriage does not seem to be my path. Rather, my path seems to be that of a governess, as you once suggested.” She rose from her chair.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I will take my leave. Harrison can escort me to the guest house.”

“Wait,” Christopher said, his hand on her arm. “Could you do this —
would
you,
will
you … for Grace?”

Helen closed her eyes, a strained look upon her face.

“That’s not fair,” Samuel said. “You can’t place such a burden on your sister. Grace’s happiness is not her responsibility.”

“Isn’t it?” Helen asked, her voice full of emotion. She opened her eyes, and he saw in them a change, a resolute determination of purpose. “Grace made
my
happiness, my entire well-being, her responsibility for many years. Why should I not do the same for her?”

Because …
Samuel could find no argument against her self-sacrificing logic. This was not the first time he’d witnessed such unfailing love from this trio of siblings. Had Grace not purposely ruined her reputation so she, and particularly Helen, would not be forced into marriage? The irony of their current situation was not lost on him. Christopher and Helen were set on doing all they could so Grace
would
marry after all. And part of making that happen required Helen pretending to marry as well.

“Together we can reunite Grace and Lord Sutherland.” Christopher turned Helen toward Samuel, guiding her across the room, his hand at her back.

“And what is your part to be in this scheme?” Samuel asked shrewdly, staring hard at Christopher. “Aside from concocting it, that is?”

“
I
will see that Lord Sutherland learns of your betrothal and has opportunities to witness your affection firsthand.”

Helen winced.

Is it the thought of Nicholas or the idea of affection which causes her more distress?
Either way Samuel did not like to see her so discomfited.

“Now,” Christopher said. “Let us agree to keep our secret, and keep it well. We shall all have to be at our best if our plan is to succeed.” Christopher thrust his hand forward, palm down. “To Grace’s happiness.”

“To Grace’s happiness.” Reluctantly, Samuel placed his hand on Christopher’s. He could not quite believe he was agreeing to do this, to help unite Grace and Nicholas — a
second
time.

“To Grace’s happiness,” Helen said in a voice somewhat stronger than her normally soft one. She placed her hand over Samuel’s.

Her touch was surprisingly warm. Their eyes met, and for just a second Samuel glimpsed a tenderness there that he had not seen before.

After bidding Mr. Preston —
Samuel
, she must try to call him now — good evening, Christopher and Helen stepped into the frosty night on their walk to the guesthouse. Samuel had offered to have them driven, but Helen had declined, believing a little cold air might help clear her head and cool her simmering temper.

She hurried onto the snowy lane, walking ahead, without waiting for Christopher to offer his arm. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, she marched briskly, arms swinging to and fro.

I cannot do this. This is a disaster, or it will be soon enough.
Just thinking of what she had agreed to — what they were to pretend — made her stomach churn. Not because she couldn’t imagine herself betrothed to Samuel. But precisely because she
could
imagine such a scenario all too well.

Since that day in October when she’d first seen him pining for his wife, and then later, when she’d discovered his interest in Grace, Helen had worked very hard to entertain
no
thoughts concerning Samuel other than as Beth’s father.

And now I am expected to pretend the opposite?

“You are unusually quiet this evening,” Christopher remarked.

Helen glanced at him sideways. “I am always quiet, and you know it.”

“But there is a certain — tension — to this silence,” Christopher said.

“
Now
your perception sets in,” Helen muttered. “Little good that does me after I have made a bargain with the devil.”

“You think Samuel Preston the devil?” Christopher jumped in front of her, stopping them both. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, and Helen longed to strike it from his face. Never, in her entire life, could she recall ever being this angry at her brother.

“I was not referring to Mr. Preston as the devil, but to
you
!”

The smile broke free into a broad, toothy grin. “Why, gentle sister, I am surprised. Such words from the mouth of an angel. Or, perhaps you are not so angelic after all?”

“At the moment, no, I am not. I would cheerfully murder you right now, were a weapon provided.”

Christopher threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly, sending puffs of white into the chilly air. Then, linking his arm through Helen’s, he pulled her toward the guesthouse once more. “Such thanks I get for my kindness.
Tsk, tsk.
And here I expected gratitude.” He sighed heavily. “Oh well, I suppose that will have to wait.”

Helen tugged her arm from his and turned to face him. “Gratitude? For forcing me to pretend engagement to Samuel? Do not expect it, Christopher — ever. You have no idea what you’ve done.” Whirling away from him, she renewed her stomping down the lane.

He took a running step to catch up and nearly slid on a patch of ice. “That’s where you would be wrong.” He jogged alongside her, then in front of her again, turning so he walked backward as he continued their conversation. “I am well aware of your feelings for Samuel.”

Helen stopped so quickly that it took a few seconds for Christopher to react and stop as well.

“What do you mean?” she whispered. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you love him.”

She met Christopher’s gaze, which was smug and full of confidence, while hers, no doubt, appeared stricken and overly bright for the tears building behind her eyes.

“I do not.”
I’ve tried so hard to avoid the very thing.

Christopher lowered his head and gave her a sober look. “There is no shame in it. Samuel Preston is a good man — the perfect man for you, really.”

“He still loves his wife,” Helen protested. “And now he also loves Grace.”

“He will always love his wife,” Christopher said. “And from what you’ve told me, I daresay you’ve made peace with that already. As for Grace …” He moved alongside Helen, linking arms again, and they started strolling once more. “He cares for her, but it is not love. Not yet.”