Loving Helen (15 page)

“But it could be,” Helen said. “That is what he wishes. You saw him tonight. He
wants
to love her if she would only have him.”

“No. Samuel is in love with the
idea
of being in love again,” Christopher said with rather more wisdom than Helen had supposed him to have concerning matters of the heart. “Grace has helped him to see that possibility, after a very long time when he did not think there could be another woman he might care for as much as he did for Elizabeth.”

“How is any of this is favorable for me?” Helen asked, feeling colder and more disconsolate by the minute.
If Christopher was able to discern my true feelings, has Samuel also? Is that why he was so averse to our pretending engagement?

Instead of answering her question, Christopher asked another. “Do you know how it was that Samuel became enamored of Grace?”

Helen shook her head. “Not really. She said only that he’d seen you both at the theatre with Grandfather.”

“He did,” Christopher said. “And he was touched by the care Grace showed Grandfather. When Samuel learned that Grandfather had died, he imagined he might find in Grace someone who understood the loss of a loved one, someone who had also experienced sorrow. And so he sought her out.”

“You think he may find the same in me?” Helen had no idea how Christopher saw this situation as something she ought to be thanking him for.

“In you he has discovered something different, a woman who loves his daughter,” Christopher said. “He has witnessed your compassion and caring, much as he observed those things in Grace at the theatre. Only with you, he has seen much, much more.”

“Yet that has not caused him to love me,” Helen said.

Compassion and caring are not enough.

“He doesn’t dare because he believes that you fear him.” Christopher nudged her shoulder with his as if chiding her for a fault. “You are correct in believing he sees you as someone to care for his daughter. Now you must show that you care for
him
as well.”

“And I suppose you are going to tell me how to go about that,” Helen said, elbowing Christopher in return. “I thought this plan of yours was about helping
Grace
.”

“It is,” he assured her. “But other opportunities may present themselves.”

Helen sighed heavily. “There has been ample opportunity these past months for Samuel to show interest in me, but never once—” She paused, recalling those few occasions when she’d sensed a connection between them, when it had seemed they were on the verge of crossing some invisible barrier.
But we never did.
“—not once has he shown interest in me as anything other than a playmate for Beth.”

“Hmm,” Christopher said, sounding rather disinterested. “That, dear sister, is in the past. What you must do now is play your role as his fiancée convincingly. Which, I believe, you will do best if you are not play-acting at all.”

“That is what I fear,” Helen admitted. “I will be showing my true feelings, and though the end of your scheme may see Grace happy, it is I who shall fall to pieces with a broken heart, which will have no hope of mending.”

“Courage,” Christopher said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Allow yourself to care for Samuel, and when you fear you cannot, think of Grace. Do this for her — and for yourself.”

“What of Samuel?” Helen asked. “How does he fit into your schemes? Isn’t being rejected by Grace punishment enough for his kindnesses to our family? Would you use him ill?”

“I will do nothing of the sort; I promise you,” Christopher said. “I have considered all parties involved, and I pray and predict a favorable outcome for all.”

They’d nearly reached the guesthouse, and though Helen was not entirely satisfied with the conversation, she felt no need to continue it. Christopher knew of her feelings; it appeared that Samuel did not. Christopher believed there was yet hope for all of them — Grace and Lord Sutherland …
Samuel and me.

Do I trust Christopher, the man who has always said he wanted nothing to do with marriage?

“What do you know of all this?” Helen asked, turning to him suddenly. “In fact,
how
do you know of this? You’ve hardly been around of late. For a self-proclaimed eternal bachelor, you seem suddenly keen on matters of the heart.”

“You do not give me enough credit,” Christopher said with a sly smile.

“Perhaps not,” Helen said, mistrust in her voice. She tapped a finger against her lips. “Could it be that you are more intelligent than you appear?”

“I am positively
brilliant.
” Christopher puffed his chest proudly. “When this is all done with, you will agree. Though I must confess that Miranda may have put a word or two in my ear.”

“
Miranda
?” Helen glanced up at her maid’s window. “You cannot mean that
she
put you up to this.” If Christopher was the least likely male to be involved in a romantic scheme of any sort, Miranda was easily his female counterpart.

“Don’t misjudge her,” Christopher said. “Miranda was once young, and she had a love affair of her own. She is not entirely unfamiliar with the yearnings of a young woman.”

Helen felt her mouth open in surprise. The cold rushed in, stealing her breath almost as much as Christopher’s announcement had. “Miranda — was in love?”

“Harrison told me.” Christopher ran up the porch steps ahead of her.

“Do share,” Helen said, running after him.

Christopher looked around furtively, as if he feared Miranda might be lurking. “It was Harrison’s brother,” Christopher whispered. “They were to be married, but then he was killed in battle during the Napoleonic wars. Afterward Harrison helped her get a position as a maid in your grandfather’s house.”

“How long ago was this?” Helen asked.

“Nearly twenty-five years. Long ago, but not so long that she has forgotten what it feels like to love someone. It was she who first alerted me to the possibility of a match between you and Samuel.”

Helen leaned against the rail and tried to picture a young Miranda in love with a dashing young soldier who looked much like Harrison. “I never knew, never imagined.”

“It’s probably best to act as if you still don’t,” Christopher advised.

“Just one more thing for me to pretend,” Helen said, brought back to the present and her own ill-fated affair.

Christopher shook his head. “No other pretending is necessary, remember?” He grabbed the doorknob, then looked back at her. “I should mention one more thing.”

“Yes?”
What else?
She probably didn’t want to know.

“Try being angry more often,” Christopher suggested. “It brings out a rather attractive side of you.”

He pulled open the door and ran into the house before the scoop of snow she’d gathered from the rail could hit him.

Samuel stomped snow from his boots and knocked briskly on the door of the guesthouse. He’d barely removed his hand when it swung open. Grace stood before him, an expectant, hopeful look on her face. Her eyes landed upon him, and Samuel watched as the hope gave way to disappointment and telltale sorrow. A few weeks earlier, he would have teased her for this reaction, would have feigned that his feelings were hurt — though at the time, there would have been some truth to that.

But now …

The wound caused by her rejection was healing. Somehow, even over the course of their autumn of friendship, and in spite of the hope he’d felt, he’d realized deep within himself that they were not destined to be more than friends. If he was to be honest with himself, he had to admit he’d known since the moment at his ball when Nicholas had appeared beside her.

I likely realized it before Nicholas.
And, as it appeared that his former brother-in-law still didn’t realize what he’d had, once again it was up to Samuel to show him.

Grace’s lip quivered slightly before she forced it into a smile. “Hello, Samuel.”

He doffed his hat and gave a slight bow. “Good morning, Grace.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it lightly.

Her smile brightened to one more genuine. “Have you come to cheer me up? Because I am not sure that will work if we are not standing with a fence between us.”

“I daresay you are right,” Samuel said with only the slightest hint of melancholy. He’d had that day of hope when Nicholas sent her away, the fleeting thought that Grace might yet be his, but in seeing her tearstained face and hearing her weep out her heartache the past few days, Samuel realized that was not to be. And so he tried to put aside the notion once and for all. Grace had given her heart to another. Now Samuel must do all in his power to reunite her with Nicholas.

She stepped back and motioned for him to come inside.

Samuel entered the cozy foyer, feeling warmth from the adjoining sitting room fire already.

Grace closed the door behind him. “Have you found more properties for us to consider?”

“No. Only the three, I’m afraid. The others —” He twirled his hat and sighed. “They are either too close to those who know your past, or —”

“Or the landlords will not have us because my reputation precedes me,” Grace finished.

“I am afraid so,” Samuel said.

“No matter.” She patted his hand lightly. “After all, that is what I had planned for all along. What was it the poet George Herbert said? ” She brought her hand to her chin, considering. “‘I have made my bed, and now must lie in it.’ Or something of that sort.” She frowned. “Though, in this instance, that is a rather bad pun, considering the bed I ended up in.”

Samuel noted the lack of humor in her voice. “I’m glad to see you’re up to quoting literature again, at least — a sure sign of improvement. I think a different line of Herbert’s is more fitting: ‘He that hath love in his breast, hath spurs in his sides.’”

“And everywhere else,” Grace muttered. She wrung her hands suddenly. “Oh, Samuel, what am I to do? I never thought I could live with Nicholas, and now it seems I cannot live without him.” She folded her arms across her middle, as if attempting to hold in her pain.

He took a step closer to her. “Do not despair.” Simple, empty words — words he’d heard often enough from others in the weeks following Elizabeth’s death. “Time —” He could not bring himself to say that time would heal her wound. He knew well enough it likely would not. Instead, he needed to focus on setting the situation right.

“I am afraid books are my only solace,” Grace said. “And even they cannot seem to transport me from sorrow as they once did.” She sighed heavily. “But enough of that. Here you stand, yet I’ve not even invited you for tea.”

“I cannot stay.” Samuel glanced about the foyer. “You are not alone, are you?” Surely her siblings and servants both understood the need for Grace to have company at all times right now. When Elizabeth died he had borne his grief alone. And it had not been good. “Are Miranda and Harrison not here?”

“Harrison is meeting with Christopher to prepare for our journey. We mean to make a decision quickly and be gone as soon as possible.”

“There is no rush. You are no trouble here,” Samuel hurried to assure her, though he guessed her real reason for wanting to leave
.
Being so close to Nicholas, yet not being with him, had to be difficult.

“Thank you, Samuel,” Grace said. “Your generosity knows no bounds. But being here now troubles
me
. It will be better when we are all settled elsewhere and can begin anew.”

That wouldn’t do. How they could possibly hope to reunite Nicholas and Grace if she left the province? Samuel chose his words with care. “You do realize that no matter how far away you go, your heart — or part of it — will remain here.” He glanced out the window in the direction of Sutherland Hall. “Or rather, there. Troubles of the heart follow anywhere you go.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Who said that?”

“I did.” Samuel shrugged.
I am starting to sound rather wise — somewhat like Helen.
“No doubt I read something similar in a book once. But I speak from experience.” Instead of reaching out to take her hands to offer comfort as he had so many times before, he shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets. “After Beth was born, I went to London and thought to never return. I believed that by staying away from the place that held Elizabeth’s memories, life would be easier. I didn’t wish to smell her roses or hear her pianoforte or see her horse in the stables. I told myself it would be easiest to pretend that my life with her had not happened.”

“But you had your daughter,” Grace said.

“Yes. Beth was so like her mother from the time she was an infant. But she was not what brought me back. Instead of feeling less grief in London, I felt more. I had to return here to make peace with the past. If I was to go on with my life, I had to confront my memories — good and bad.”

“You are still confronting some of them,” Grace said.

“Yes,” Samuel agreed, remembering the day he’d told her how Elizabeth had died in childbirth, and how — as a physician — he still felt responsible. “But I do know
some
peace. And it is because I dared to face the past.”

“It is different for me.” Grace turned away. “The man I love is not dead. It is not a grave I dread visiting, but seeing the very man himself. I do not think I could bear it. So I must leave.”