Fair Juno (Regencies 4)

Helen’s mind fell into place with a thud. She felt her eyes widen even further. She struggled to assemble the right words but none would leap to her tongue. When she saw the grey eyes sharpen and become intent, she swallowed. ‘No.’

It was such a small sound, Martin thought he had misheard. But the expression in her eyes, the wordless pain, convinced him he had not been mistaken. Somehow, he had muffed it. When she drew her hands from his shoulders, he smiled and tried to make light of her problem, hoping to learn what it was. ‘My dear Helen, I’ll have you know it’s not done to kiss a man and then refuse his suit.’

To his increasing unease, she hung her head. ‘I know.’

Helen found she was wringing her hands, something she had never done in her life. ‘Truly, my lord, I’m more than honoured by your proposal. But I…’ Heavens—what was she to say? ‘But I’ve not thought of remarrying.’

‘Well, try thinking about it.’ Martin strove to keep the edge from his tone. This was not how this interview was supposed to have gone. In fact, the more he thought of it, the whole business was deucedly odd. What had happened?

‘My lord, I must make you understand—’

‘No—it’s I who must needs make you understand. I love you, Helen. And you love me. What more is there to it than that?’

Helen swallowed and forced her eyes to his. The moon shone from behind him, leaving his features in shadow and her with no real idea of his expression. She imagined it was forbidding. Suppressing a shiver, she tried to speak calmly. ‘My lord, you know as well as I that there’s a great deal more to it than that.’

Martin stiffened slightly, then remembered that he was atrociously rich. She must be referring to his past, but he had told her about that. Didn’t she believe him? ‘I’m very much afraid, my dear, that you’ll have to be rather more specific if I’m to follow your thread.’

Helen’s courage was fast deserting her. How to tell a man—an arrogant, proud man—that you knew he was his mother’s pensioner? She shifted back on the seat and felt Martin’s arms fall from about her. Instead of bringing her relief, the withdrawal of his protection left her feeling more lost than ever. She pressed her hands together and in a very small voice said, ‘I was thinking of w

hat your mother would say.’

His reaction was every bit as violent as she had anticipated.

‘My mother?’ Martin was dumbfounded. ‘What the devil do you imagine my mother has to do with this?’ He had almost forgotten his mother’s plans. Had news of her machinations reached town? ‘I’ll marry who I damn well please! My mother doesn’t have any say in the matter.’ The idea that Helen thought him the sort of man who would allow anyone to interfere in such a matter made his tone even more steely.

Helen had winced at his questions; by the time he had finished his vehement denial she was more than flustered. Her nerves were jittery; she could not think straight. Her head throbbed in earnest. Of course he would deny it. What more could she say? How could she smooth things over and make him understand?

Martin saw her agitation. Immediately, he sought to cut through the morass they had somehow landed in and bring her to peace again. ‘Helen, my dear, I love you. Even if my whole estate were in the balance, I’d still want to marry you.’

He spoke simply, from the heart. He was not prepared for her reaction. Wide eyes turned his way; her breath seemed to catch in her throat. Then her full lips trembled and the moonlight glistened on the tears hanging suspended from the tips of her long lashes.

‘Oh, Martin!’

The whispered words caught on a sob.

Abruptly, Helen looked down, at her fingers tightly twined in her lap. She had never loved anyone as much as she loved him; she could not let him make such a sacrifice.

Becoming more worried with every passing second, every totally confusing minute, Martin frowned at Helen’s bent head. He reached for her hand.

The door from the house opened.

‘This way, m’dear.’

Helen would have leapt to her feet, but Martin’s hand on hers restrained her. He moved slightly, so that his bulk shielded her from the intruders. As two guests emerged into the small walled court, Martin rose languidly then turned and helped Helen to rise.

‘Oh!’ said Hedley Swayne. ‘My goodness! I’m afraid we didn’t realise this area was occupied.’

One of Martin’s brows rose. His gaze went from the frippery sight of Mr Swayne to the slight young thing wavering on his arm. ‘No matter, I was just about to escort Lady Walford inside.’

He turned to offer his arm to Helen. She took it, trying to appear as unaffected as possible, with her nerves in knots and her heart in her shoes.

‘Oh, Lady Walford,’ the slight young thing warbled nervously. ‘Would you mind if I came inside with you?’ Without waiting for assent, the girl turned to Hedley Swayne. ‘I really don’t think I wish to view the gardens just at the moment, Mr Swayne.’

She bobbed a curtsy and hurried to Helen’s side.

Swallowing his frustration, Martin was forced to escort Helen and her unexpected protégée back to the ballroom. Once under the light of the chandeliers, he saw how badly affected Helen was. Feeling very much as if his world had stopped turning, he resigned himself to letting the matter lapse until a more suitable opportunity to speak privately with her could be arranged. He left her with Dorothea, lifting her hand to his lips with a murmured, ‘I’ll call on you tomorrow,’ before taking his leave.

Dorothea took one look at Helen’s face, then, without comment, called for her carriage.