Loving Helen (24 page)

“I shall send him a message telling him that I have decided to marry again and would like his blessing.”

“
Marry
?”
She sounded a little breathless.

Does the idea still frighten her so much?
Samuel ignored her wide, bright eyes and forged on before she could voice an objection. “We shall send word for Christopher and Grace to join us for a celebratory dinner. Nicholas will be furious at my audacity, so he will come to tell me off — if not more than that — and then he shall see you and me together. He will see Grace and realize that both her feelings and his are unchanged. And everything will be as it was before. Everyone will live happily ever after.”
Except me.

Almost a minute passed before Helen spoke. She appeared to be considering the idea or composing herself — which one, he could not tell. Finally she took a drawn-out sip of water before sharing her opinion.

“What if the invitation is not reason enough? What if he still won’t come?”

“I’ve thought of that.” Next came the part of the plan that would prove most difficult — and risky. “I have a messenger in mind who is sure to gain his favor.”

This time, there was no mistaking the alarm flooding Helen’s face. “Not Beth.”

He nodded soberly. “She is almost four. It is time. She deserves to know her mother’s family. And they deserve to know her.”

“That is most gallant of you,” Helen said. “But Samuel, are you quite certain?” She placed her hand over his on the table.

“No.” He looked at their hands, thinking of how natural it seemed that she would comfort him, that she sat by his side every night, that she spent her days playing with his daughter.

Why didn’t I realize sooner?
He felt that he’d wasted all of the precious months they’d had together, especially December, when they’d spent so much time in each other’s company. If he’d only realized then, if he had but examined his feelings and told her — before her brother’s preposterous suggestion.

Which is not so unbelievable after all.

“I am not sure at all that I want to share Beth with Nicholas and Lady Sutherland. But I am certain that it is the right thing to do.” Samuel looked at Helen, searching her eyes for any sign of her feelings — other than those they pretended for each other. “I have been remiss in many things; it is time I remedy those I can.”

She smiled warmly and patted his hand once before withdrawing hers. “I will trust your judgment then. Beth is your daughter.” She spoke the last quietly, as if reminding herself more than stating the fact to him.

“That may be,” Samuel said, deciding it was high time he lightened their mood. “But I daresay she likes you more than she does me.”

Helen’s shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug, and when she looked at him again, her eyes twinkled, though somehow Samuel felt that she was still playacting — as if she knew of his attempt at humor and was merely going along with it. “Perhaps if you would take to sewing doll clothes in addition to making swings, she would prefer your company.”

He held out his hands and laughed. “I fear to imagine what creations these would come up with.”

“Let us hope for now that it is your mind that has conjured something good.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms as if settling in to listen awhile. “Tell me in detail of your new plan to reunite my sister and Lord Sutherland.”

“This was not my plan.” Samuel crouched behind the bushes outside of the drawing room at Sutherland Hall as rain poured down. Beth had been out in the rain but a minute or two, as she was escorted from the carriage to the front doors. But he and Helen had now spent several minutes outside getting soaked. Samuel fervently wished he’d been able to convince her to stay home. He tried once more to persuade her to leave. “Your brother will have my head if you become ill.”

“Shh,” Helen scolded, as if those inside might somehow overhear. Hair plastered to the sides of her face, she stood, peering above the bushes to see through the window. “Oh dear.”

“What? What is it?” Samuel started to rise, but Helen pressed her palm to his head, pushing him back. He tottered a moment on the balls of his feet, arms flailing before he fell back, sitting hard in the mud.

“For some reason, Beth jumped out at Lady Sutherland, startling her so that she nearly fell,” Helen explained. “But she is all right now. Lord Sutherland has joined them.”

“And?” Samuel prodded, grimacing as he put a hand on the soggy ground and tried to right himself.

“He is talking to Beth,” Helen said. “He appears somewhat startled — which is to be expected, of course.” She glanced over where Samuel had been but found him sitting on the ground instead. “What are you doing? Come look for yourself. You know his moods and manner better than I.”

Keeping an oath to himself, Samuel pushed up from the wet ground and joined her in looking through the window. The scene that met his eyes soon caused them to mist — or perhaps it was just the rain impeding his vision. Moisture aside, he could not deny that he was witness to one of Nicholas’s more tender moments. When Nicholas at last nodded his promise to Beth that he would come to dinner, then took her hand in his, Samuel knew a moment of deep contentment, of a wrong begun to be right.

“She is safe,” Samuel said. “Nicholas is a man of his word. He will be joining us when he brings her home this evening.”

He turned from the window to find Helen taking in his muddy appearance. “You’re a mess.”

He grinned, his heart feeling lighter than it had for some time. “Was it not you who told me there was a price for spying? I suppose my muddy clothing is the cost. Whereas you” — he reached out with his clean hand, brushing a strand of wet hair from her cheek — “have lost only a few curls for our efforts.”

She stilled beneath his touch but did not shrink from it. Her eyes closed briefly, and for a second, Samuel felt hope that his touch had affected her as it did him.

“Would that was all I had lost,” she whispered, then moved suddenly.

Still bending low, she crept from the house, toward the garden and the gate they had entered. Samuel followed, perplexed by the meaning of her words and the change that had come over her. As soon as they were safely out of sight of the house, he caught her arm, stopping her.

“What were you speaking of back there?”

She shook her head and pulled away, resuming her walk at a brisker pace. They reached the garden wall and the bench Grace had stood on when conversing with him last fall. Helen glanced at the bench briefly before hurrying through the gate, which they’d left ajar. She continued onto Samuel’s garden paths while he closed and fastened the gate.

When he’d finished, he ran after her as she headed toward the open lawn.

“Helen, wait!” He caught up with her near the ash tree with the swing he’d made for Beth. Remembering the day they’d first played here, that first glimpse he’d seen of the other Helen — the one who’d been so present lately — he determined to discover what was troubling her. He took her hand this time, forcing her to stop beneath the bare limbs of the great tree.

“What is wrong?” he demanded. “What have I done to upset you?”

“It’s not you.” She shook her head. “It’s me — my fault.”

Her tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks, and he realized that this conversation would take more than a minute; but they were both still getting soaked. “Come with me.” He took her hand, pulling her across the lawn and toward the shelter of the gazebo. She didn’t resist. Only when they’d climbed the steps and were safely out of the rain did he drop her hand and turn to her. She promptly burst into tears. More bewildered than ever, Samuel wrapped his arms around her and held her close as she cried.

Outside the gazebo the rain continued falling, and it felt as though the temperature was dropping quickly. He worried that she would catch a chill if he didn’t get her inside and out of her wet cloak. But for now, whatever was troubling her seemed to be the more pressing issue, so he stood patiently until, at length, her tears stopped and she stepped from his embrace, wiping at her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Samuel.”

“For crying? Don’t be,” he said, attempting humor. “It’s good for me to offer comfort to a lady in need every so often. Keeps the gentlemanly skills in practice.”

“Not for crying … though I’ve done your jacket no favors.”

He glanced at his shoulder, wet from both rain and her tears. “No harm.”

“But I
have
done you harm,” she exclaimed, looking as if she would cry again. “I spied — on you.”

“Really?” Instead of feeling put off by her admission, as it appeared she believed he would be, he felt intrigued, even flattered, perhaps. “When?”

“That morning I met you in your garden — Elizabeth’s birthday — though I didn’t mean to then, and I only heard you talking for a moment.”

He nodded. “You admitted as much that day. I know it was quite by accident. I have appreciated your honesty — and trustworthiness about my — uh — unusual conversations.”

“There’s more.” Helen rushed on. “That same afternoon I decided to walk in the gardens. I did not realize that the fence separating Lord Sutherland’s property from yours was so close, and I came upon you and Grace. I discovered that you had affection for each other.”

“I see.” The feeling of lightness he’d enjoyed earlier vanished amid a renewed guilt that he’d shown and felt interest in Helen’s sister. “It wasn’t what you thought,” he said, but he wasn’t sure he could explain exactly what it
had
been. He’d cared for Grace, but now he cared for Helen.

As if she would believe that.

“At first I only wanted to hear her voice and know she was well,” Helen said. “But the more I heard, the worse I felt. Because …”

“I’d already shared with you my intent for her to be with Lord Sutherland?”

“Ye-es,” Helen said, looking as if there was something more she wished to say.

The moment passed. She wrapped her arms around her middle and began pacing. “But it is even worse.” She passed him but would not stop or turn his way. “On Christmas day, I was coming home from playing with Beth. And I came upon you and Grace
again
. This time on Lord Sutherland’s side of the fence.” Helen stopped, facing out of the gazebo, toward the guesthouse.

Oh no.
Samuel closed his eyes briefly.
My proposal.
“How much of our conversation did you overhear?” Samuel asked.

“Enough.” She still hugged her arms to herself, and her head hung as well, shoulders hunched forward, as if in defeat.

“And how did
that
alter your opinion of me?” Samuel asked. He recalled the day they had walked from the guesthouse and discussed this previously when she had accused him of being manipulative. At the time he hadn’t realized that she’d been privy to the intimate details of his proposal.

“It didn’t change my opinion.” At last she faced him. “It broke my heart that Grace refused you. And now it is you who shall have an altered opinion of me, thinking of me as little more than a busybody.”

“I think —”

“I am so sorry, Samuel.” She forged ahead. “It was wrong of me, and I have suffered for it more than you will ever know. I feel so terribly wretched.”

As do I.
One thing in particular that she had said bothered him.
It broke my heart that Grace would refuse you …
If Helen had truly been saddened that he and Grace were not to marry …

Then it seems unlikely that Helen has developed any true feelings for me.

“
How
have you suffered?” he asked.

Her brow furrowed, as if perplexed by his question. “I regret intruding on your privacy. You were so sorrowful that morning in the garden, and I foolishly thought you might welcome my company.”

“I did welcome it,” he said, then recalled her awkwardness and remembered that he
hadn’t
particularly wished for her to join him.

“You see?” Helen said, and Samuel realized she must have read the truth on his face. “Later, when I heard you with Grace, I was angry with her for teasing you on such a solemn day, but then I realized she was teasing you from your sorrow. That is something I could never do.” Helen wrung her hands and gave him a look that spoke of misery. “And then your proposal was so beautiful, so I was sad for you again — that Grace could hurt you so. Yet after seeing her with Lord Sutherland, I knew she must refuse your offer.”

Pity. Pity is all she feels for me.
Disappointment enveloped Samuel. “Do not worry yourself on my account.” He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Any hardship in that situation I brought entirely upon myself. I encouraged Grace to care for Nicholas, so she did. I have encouraged you to consider becoming a governess, and so you have.”
Still a terrible idea.
Another one — one he had not before considered — struck him.

Perhaps Helen had hoped her sister and I would marry so she might stay on as a governess for Beth.
He had no doubt that Helen loved his daughter.
It was Samuel’s turn to look away, staring out at the rain and feeling very dismal. “It would appear that I am good at giving advice to beautiful young ladies in need.”