Helena attempted a careless laugh and patted his hand.
‘Good heavens, Papa! Anyone would think that you were anxious to get rid of me!’
The old man regarded her warmly. ‘Dear child.’ He smiled. ‘You know full well that that is not the case—I am merely concerned for your future well being. And, in the short time I was able to study his lordship, I do have to say that he struck me as being a very fine gentleman.’
‘Oh, I am sure you are right, Papa,’ replied Helena, uncomfortably aware that these were almost the exact words that her father had used in his appraisal of each of the three previous contenders for her hand. However, conscious of the physician’s recommendations that her father must enjoy absolute quietude, she refrained from any mention of those earlier conversations. Instead, having realised that the invalid was beginning to exhibit signs of fatigue, she gently disengaged her hand from his grasp, rose to her feet and bent to kiss his forehead.
‘You must rest now, dearest. Doctor Redfern has promised to come and see you tomorrow morning. I would not like him to think that you had been overtaxing yourself.’
‘You are a such a good girl, Helena,’ murmured Mr Wheatley, as he closed his eyes but then, almost at once, he forced his heavy lids apart and blurted out, ‘You will remember to have Markfield sign that contract, won’t you—I must have his promise…!’
‘Pray do not excite yourself, Papa,’ interjected Helena, utterly dismayed at her father’s sudden reference to the still-unsigned document, since she had been all but convinced that the dreaded subject had finally slipped his mind. ‘I am dealing with the matter, you have my word!’
As she let herself out of his bedchamber, however, fresh qualms began to assail her and she spent a very unsettled night wrestling over the combined difficulties of, not only fending off her father’s awkward questions but also, wondering how on earth she was going to come up with an acceptable excuse for terminating her association with the earl who, insofar as she was able to judge, appeared to be well nigh faultless!
The following day, having spent the morning helping out at the Chelsea soup kitchen, as was their usual practice, the two girls arrived home to find that, not only had the countess’s reply to Helena’s query been delivered during their absence but, in addition, a beautifully boxed posy of violets and primroses had arrived, courtesy of Lord Markfield.
To Helena’s relief—although rather to her cousin’s consternation—Lady Isobel indicated that, given that she was suitably gowned and coiffured, Miss Daniels’s presence on Friday evening would be quite in order.
‘Well, even she will have difficulty in finding fault with our appearance,’ glowered Lottie, upon reading her ladyship’s words. ‘Most of those lovely evening gowns that you had Madame Devy make for us last year have barely seen the light of day, let alone graced the rooms of the rich and famous, so I certainly shan’t shame you in that respect!’
Helena, who had been rapt in contemplation of the floral tribute, spun round in astonishment. ‘Shame me? Good Heavens, Lottie! What are you saying? How can you possibly think that I would ever be ashamed of you—you are my dearest friend!’
‘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