A Marriageable Miss

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‘That’s as may be, at present,’ replied her cousin, only slightly mollified. ‘But, just you wait! The minute you start moving in those exalted circles, you should not be surprised to find yourself surrounded by a great many new friends—especially once news of Uncle Giles’s fortune gets about! Added to which, there is another matter that has been bothering me. If you really intend to allow her ladyship full rein in the setting up of these engagements, it cannot have failed to occur to you that they will all be organised to suit her convenience, not your own. It seems to me that you are going to find yourself in something of a social whirl—morning visits, afternoon calls, theatre parties and so on. How will we be able to fit in all our other commitments? We shall scarce have a moment to ourselves!’

Helena merely laughed, saying, ‘Oh, come now! Surely you are worrying unnecessarily? We had no problem fulfilling our duties at the chapel when I was staving off the other three, so I fail to see why you think that it should prove any more difficult this time.’

Shaking her head, Lottie eyed the little posy reflectively. ‘As I recall, Nell,’ she pointed out, ‘you were somewhat more averse to those particular gentlemen’s attentions than you seem to be to Lord Markfield’s—as well as doing your level best to find ways of extracting yourself from your various engagements with them. This time, it does seem to me that you are a good deal more eager to give the matter rather more than its fair share of your attention!’

A rosy glow crept across Helena’s cheeks. ‘W-whatever can you mean, Lottie?’ she stammered uneasily. ‘You must know that I only fell in with her ladyship’s plans because it seems to me that, with Papa still so poorly, I really have very little choice in the matter.’

Lottie shrugged. ‘Very true, my dear. But I can’t help wondering exactly how you intend to ditch this particular peer!’

Helena flinched and a little shiver ran down her back. ‘It is far too early to be thinking about that, Lottie,’ she retorted. ‘For me to pull out at this stage would be nothing short of disastrous. Besides which, Papa would never countenance such a thing at present.’

‘You are right, of course,’ returned Lottie sagely. ‘Besides which, Lord Markfield is, without a doubt, far and away the best of those who have responded to Uncle Giles’s offer and, apart from the fact that he has such extraordinarily perfect manners, you have to admit that he has to be the most devilishly handsome creature that you have ever come across!’

In order to hide the beginnings of yet another tell-tale wave of colour that ran across her face, Helena hurriedly bent to gather up her outdoor things and swept towards the door, declaring, ‘If you are about to descend into talking utter nonsense, Lottie, it is clearly time to bring this conversation to a halt! Allow me to assure you that his lordship’s looks, handsome or otherwise, are of very little concern to me.’

This grand exit, however, did nothing to diminish the guilty niggle within that warned her that there was, perhaps, a certain amount of truth in her cousin’s words.

With a pensive frown on her face, she made her way up the stairs towards her bedchamber and would gladly have dismissed Lottie’s remark had she not been obliged to admit to herself that she was finding the earl’s attentions rather pleasing. His choice of flowers, for instance, could not have been more delightful—he could hardly have known that she had always preferred the fragile beauty of these woodland blossoms to their more exotic hothouse sisters.

She stared down at the small piece of pasteboard in her hand and turned it over hoping, against reason, to find some sort of message. But only the stark flourish of the single word ‘Markfield’ sullied the card’s pristine surface. Laying the card down on to her dressing table, she buried her nose into the posy, dreamily inhaling its delicate fragrance. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as, with closed eyes, she found herself back in the woods near her uncle’s vicarage where, as children, both she and Jason had spent many happy hours wandering at will with their country cousins.

Her eyes moistened as she recalled those carefree, far-off days and, not for the first time of late, she found herself wishing that she could find some way to persuade her father to give up his broking practice and move out of town. A plentiful supply of clean, fresh air, coupled with a stress-free existence in some peaceful rural backwater, she thought, surely must do wonders for his rapidly failing constitution.

Blinking away her tears, she fetched a glass from the night-stand and, after filling it from the water jug, she carefully arranged the posy of flowers within it, before returning the glass to its original position beside her bed. She was gravely contemplating the delicate loveliness of the pale blossoms, cradled in the dark velvety softness of their cool green leaves, when it suddenly came to her that the Earl of Markfield was, in all likelihood, the owner of such a country idyll. This thought had no sooner entered her head than it was immediately succeeded by the staggering realisation that, should she care to encourage his lordship’s suit, rather than setting out to sabotage it, she might well, within a matter of mere months, find herself absolute mistress of an estate that would provide an ideal setting for her father’s recuperation.

Almost as quickly as this somewhat fanciful notion conjured itself up, however, it evaporated into thin air, Helena having been obliged to recall Markfield’s initial reluctance to involve himself with her proposal. Added to which, hadn’t the dowager countess also made it perfectly clear that, as far as she was concerned, any association between Helena and her grandson was intended to be purely temporary and would continue only as long as it proved beneficial to Markfield’s cause?

A small frown furrowed Helena’s brow, as she realised that the reins of power did seem to have passed firmly into in her ladyship’s hands, rather than remaining with herself, as she would have preferred. But why, she wondered, should this disconcert her so? Having achieved, more or less, what she had set out to do, she knew that she ought to be glad that there would no longer be any need for subterfuge and, more to the point, perhaps, it was reasonable to assume that the actual termination of the relationship would be settled by mutual agreement. It was, therefore, most vexatious for Helena to discover that, whenever her thoughts lighted upon the inevitability of the affair’s eventual conclusion, she was conscious of the oddest sensation of regret. This mounting state of uncertainty was not aided by the fact that she then found that she was actually looking forward to her next meeting with the earl!

Grimacing at her reflection in the looking glass, she patted her hair into place and changed into her house slippers, ready to join her cousin in the dining room. As she was making her way down the stairs, however, a rueful smile began to play about her lips, for she had suddenly been beset by the most disquieting thought that, unless she kept her wits about her, despite all of her carefully conceived plans, she might well be about to find herself being beaten at her own game!

Richard, presently ensconced in the library at Standish House, was also wondering if he had been entirely wise to involve himself in what was turning out to be a rather more complicated set of circumstances than that for which he had originally bargained.

As a slight frown furrowed his brow, he found himself reconsidering the recent conversation he had had with his grandmother, whereupon his thoughts immediately flew to Helena, whose appearance, as he remembered quite vividly, had made a not inconsiderable impact on his senses. Under any other circumstances, this discovery would have proved something of a challenge to his healthy, masculine libido; the girl was undeniably attractive and, as she had recently demonstrated, more than capable of holding her own.

Then, as he once again recalled Helena’s impressive stand against the countess, Richard’s lips began to curve in an involuntary smile. In fact, the more he considered the events of the afternoon, the more there appeared to be about Miss Wheatley than he had, at first, surmised. Had he not been so heavily occupied with his present difficulties, several rather interesting possibilities might well have presented themselves. A roguish glint came into his eyes and his smile deepened.

A tap on the door interrupted his reverie and, turning his head, he observed Charles entering. With a welcoming smile, he gestured to the drinks tray on the table at his side and told his cousin to help himself.