CHAPTER TWELVE
“Oh, there’s no doubt he’s Hayden Henley.”
“You’re certain?”
Helen pulled up short. She was in the hall by the front parlor, and Becky and her father were in there and chatting.
She’d spent the afternoon extinguishing the fires Nine Lives had started, and she was exhausted. He’d chased off the men who worked outside and the housemaids who worked inside. Cook alone had been spared, and she’d announced that she’d been hired to prepare food and that’s what she intended to do until she was ordered to stop.
Earlier, Nine Lives had decreed that he and the Stone family would join Helen for supper, but she couldn’t imagine sitting through such a torturous meal. Especially with her father present too.
She’d advised Cook to set out a buffet in the small dining room so people could eat when they were hungry. The woman had lost her helpers though, so Helen had assisted her, mostly by arranging the dishes on the sideboard.
For hours, she’d searched for Nine Lives and Mr. Stone, but they’d managed to keep one step ahead of her in the large mansion. No matter the direction she walked, they’d been somewhere else.
Ultimately, she’d given up worrying about them and had gone about her daily routine, but she’d been on her own with no servants to provide their half-hearted aid, so she’d had to toil away harder than ever, which annoyed her very much.
So far, she’d avoided talking to her father, having notified Becky that they could feed themselves whenever they were ready. It was evening now, and she didn’t suppose she could steer clear of him forever.
She entered the parlor, and they were seated over by the hearth, logs burning in the grate. They’d used them all, and she had no idea who would restock them. Not either of them, that was for sure. They acted like royalty and thought they should be waited on hand and foot.
“Helen, there you are!” Becky said. “Where have you been?”
“Tamping down the chaos.”
“It’s quiet without the staff.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “Have you seen Nine Lives? I’ve been trying to locate him and Mr. Stone all day, but I haven’t had any luck.”
“They went upstairs a bit ago.”
“Why?”
“Who can guess what they’re planning?” Becky replied. “Have you ever witnessed such wild behavior?”
“No.”
Her father studied her in his kind, poignant way. “You’re tired, Helen. You shouldn’t labor to the point of extreme fatigue.”
“No, I probably shouldn’t, but I appear to be the last one left who’s willing to complete any chores.”
“You won’t believe what Father told me,” Becky said.
“What?”
“Nine Lives is Hayden Henley.”
Helen scowled at Simon. “How do you know that?”
“I met him and his father once. He was eighteen or nineteen at the time.”
“Nine Lives is more than a decade older than that,” Helen pointed out. “Why are you convinced it’s the same man?”
“I have to admit he’s suffered some wear and tear. He’s not the green boy he was back then, but it’s him all right.”
Helen sighed with resignation. Her father might—or might not—be telling the truth. If there were schemes brewing, she couldn’t have Simon participating with whatever plot Nine Lives was hatching.
As to herself, she couldn’t decide what to think. She’d never met Hayden Henley before he died, and there were no portraits of him in the manor. Who could guarantee that Nine Lives and Hayden Henley were the same person? He definitely carried himself like an aristocrat. He had the bearing and demeanor of someone who had been raised to a very high station in life.
“Where have you been, Simon?” she asked, even though she wasn’t eager to be apprised. “We arrived on Tenerife, but you weren’t there. If Nine Lives hadn’t—”
Her father interrupted. “He’s Lord Middlebury, Helen. We should call him by the correct designation.”
She wasn’t about to have that argument. “If he hadn’t rescued us, I can’t predict what would have happened.”
“It was a huge misunderstanding,” her father claimed.
“Was it?”
“Yes. The Missionary Society had erroneously assigned me to the region. A different preacher had been sent there, so the house and church weren’t available to us.”
“Really?”
Helen was so skeptical her glare could have shot daggers, and Becky flashed a visual message to inform her he wasn’t being candid.
“What else, Simon? What haven’t you told me?”
“Well, there was an…incident after I debarked.”
“What incident?”
“I stumbled on an acquaintance who was aware of my problems in England.” He waffled his hand as if the encounter was of no importance. “He took umbrage at my being on Tenerife.”
“And what? You were kicked out by the authorities?”
“I suppose kicked out is a little harsh to describe what occurred.”
“But you weren’t permitted to remain.”
“No. I was forcibly put onto the next ship that was sailing. Didn’t you get my letter? You must not have. I wrote immediately and advised you not to come after all.”
“Where have you been since then?”
“I’ve been making my way to England. As you might imagine, I had to travel a circuitous route. I’ve had dozens of adventures and ran into scores of interesting folks. I can’t wait to tell you all about them.”
She’d rather poke her eyes out with a sharp stick than listen to a single word.
“You can’t stay at Middlebury, Simon,” she said.
“Helen, dear girl, don’t be so grouchy or so angry. Of course I can stay. I’m your father. Would you toss me out on the road?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“We’ll spend a few weeks together, and we’ll quickly smooth over this wretched impasse.”
She’d already mailed the letter to her friend, Evangeline, inquiring about a teaching post. She envisioned it flying across England, her desperate request drifting to the exact spot she was anxious for it to be. With any luck, she’d escape Middlebury very soon.
“I’ll confess to being tired and grouchy,” she said, “but I’m not angry.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not, but I’m merely the housekeeper in this deserted mansion. Cousin Desdemona was just here, and she specifically stated—if you slinked in—I was not to allow you on the premises.”
He frowned. “You’re worried about Cousin Des?”
“Yes. My position is precarious, and I won’t jeopardize it. I have to think of Becky. If Des evicted us because of you, where would we go?”
“We don’t need to worry about Desdemona,” he asserted.
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“Hayden Henley is back from the dead, Helen! This won’t be Desdemona’s home much longer.”
“You sincerely believe he’s the earl?”
“Yes, so Jasper and Des are about to surrender all of the good fortune they’ve accumulated.” He smirked. “With how uncharitable they’ve been, I declare the debacle couldn’t crush a more deserving pair.”
“Let me get this straight,” Helen said. “You assume you can tarry at Middlebury because a stranger has blustered in and seized control?”
“He’s not a stranger, Helen, and Becky has confided that he’s sweet on you.”
Her glower at Becky was caustic. “He’s not sweet on me. I have no idea why she’d tell you that.”
Her father ignored her denial. “If Jasper and Des are about to be sent packing, and Hayden is back and smitten besides, there will be all sorts of boons winging our way in the future.”
“What boons?”
“Why, a profitable alliance with a rich and powerful nobleman! He’s so besotted with you! Becky and I feel marriage is a possibility. We have to begin working on that conclusion.”
She shook her head with derision. “Me and Lord Middlebury? He might wed me, and that will save the three of us?”
“Yes. Why shouldn’t he pick you?” her father enthusiastically gushed. “You’d be perfect for him. You’re beautiful, educated, and patient. People love you, Helen. They always have.”
“In some fantasy world, they’ve loved me. You’ve made esteem a bit tricky to generate.”
“He’ll face many trials, both with establishing himself and with repairing the property after Jasper’s neglect. You’re the partner he requires to help him get his life back on track.”
“In what insane universe would you suppose I have the skills to be a countess?”
He scoffed. “You always underestimate yourself. Haven’t I encouraged you to be more confident about your abilities?”
“Father has a great suggestion,” Becky interjected.
Helen’s tone was sarcastic. “I’m absolutely on pins and needles, waiting to hear what it is.”
“He thought Lord Middlebury could grant him the living at the parish church. He could preach here, and we could move into the rectory.”
Helen’s jaw dropped. “Simon? Ministering to the lost souls at Middlebury?”
“It could happen,” Becky sullenly said. “Why couldn’t it?”
“You mean other than the fact that he’s been defrocked for moral turpitude?”
Becky was resolute. “Maybe—if Lord Middlebury demanded it—church authorities would relent and reinstate him.”
“And then what?” Helen inquired. “We’d hunker down in the rectory until the next scandal explodes?”
“Helen, Helen,” Simon chided, “don’t be so negative. My recent ordeal has been a revelation to me. I’ve changed.”
Helen rolled her eyes. “I’m so glad you have.”
“Wouldn’t you like to marry Lord Middlebury?” Becky asked. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Why shouldn’t we hope for it?”
“There’s just one problem with the notion,” Helen told them.
“What problem?”
“He’s decreed—in no uncertain terms—that he intends to marry a princess. I am too far beneath him, and he would never consider me.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” her father said. “Men choose unusual brides all the time. You’d be amazed by how often it transpires.”
“Name one husband who chose a low bride. You can probably name a dozen who wed higher, who found heiresses and wed for money. But I can’t think of a single bachelor who deliberately selected a penniless vicar’s daughter.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Simon said.
“I’m not being hard. I’m being realistic.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Now then, I’m weary, and I’m going to bed.”
“Goodnight,” they replied in unison.
“First though, I’m heading upstairs to find Nine Lives, so I can talk to him about tomorrow. I can’t abide all this upheaval, so he has to calm down and cease his rampaging.”
“He’ll soon have matters squared away,” Simon insisted. “He’s quite adept at taking charge.”
Helen didn’t comment, for of course Nine Lives was proficient at barking orders and being obeyed. He’d been born to command, born to rule, born to lord himself over others.
“In the meantime,” Helen said, “you two will desist with this fantasy you’re spinning. You are not to ever discuss a marriage for me. If Nine Lives heard you, I’ve be mortified. I want this subject dropped.”
“Oh, yes, we’ll drop it.”
Simon grinned, and Becky grinned too, providing every indication that they wouldn’t listen to her, but she was too drained to fight about it.
She stomped out and wound up the grand staircase. It was eerily quiet with all the servants kicked out. The house was hundreds of years old, and if a ghost had floated by, she wouldn’t have been surprised.
When she got to the third floor, she peered to the end of the hall, and the doors to Jasper’s bedchamber were open, a lamp burning in the sitting room.
Apparently, she’d located who she was looking for without too much searching, and her irritation spiked. He had no business being in Jasper’s personal quarters, but he was extremely deranged. Who could prevent him from engaging in any mad conduct?
She marched down and entered the suite. Jasper’s possessions were stacked in piles to be hauled out.
Almost afraid of what she’d encounter, she tiptoed over and peeked into the bedroom. He was over by the window, leaned on the sill and staring across the park. His shirt was off, his boots and stockings too, so he was wearing only his trousers. She had a full view of his ruined back, the scars a painful reminder of his violent past.
“Hello, Helen.” He didn’t turn around.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I’d recognize your stride anywhere—and the smell of your skin and hair.”
“Why are you in here?” she asked.
“I’m moving in.”
“Nine Lives, you can’t—”
He glanced over at her. “Would you call me by my Christian name?”
“What is it?”
“You know what it is.”
It was late evening, the sun having set, the sky a soothing lavender color that would swiftly fade to purple, then to black.
He was silhouetted in the waning light, his skin tanned, his shoulders and arms lined with muscle. His eyes were particularly blue—and very troubled—which was odd. He’d never previously exhibited a hint of maudlin emotion.
He held out a hand to her, inviting her to approach. Every pore in her body was urging her to hurry over and snuggle herself to his side, and she realized that she shouldn’t relent.
Their prior meeting had been earlier in the kitchen when he’d balanced her on the baker’s table and kissed her senseless. She’d joined in with an incredible amount of relish, and she was embarrassed by her out of control display. Yet there was such torment in his gaze that, despite her best instincts, she couldn’t refuse.
She walked over, and he pulled her close. She should have remained strong and kept her distance, but whenever she was in his presence, she simply felt that they belonged together, that she was his and he was hers, and their connection was destined to be.
“I wrote to Jasper about you,” she said.
“I figured you would.” He dipped down and kissed the top of her head. “I wrote him too. I suppose he’ll slither in before too much time has passed.”
“You can’t take over his bedchamber.”
“I already have.” He stared out at the park again, and for a lengthy interval, they were silent, his anguished thoughts pelting her, then he said, “You don’t believe me, do you? You don’t believe I’m Hayden Henley.”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s Jasper’s dilemma. Not mine.”
“You’re just the housekeeper?”
“The unpaid housekeeper. I’m not earning a sufficient wage to unravel the truth of what you’re claiming.”
He chuckled. “Why would I lie about it?”
“I have no idea, but I’m sure—in that convoluted mind of yours—you have a scheme progressing, and there’s a conclusion I can’t fathom.”
“You’ll see in the end.”
“Yes, I will. I’m furious with you for firing all the servants.”
“They didn’t deserve to stay on.”
“Probably not, but now, I have no help and I’m completely overwhelmed.”
“You don’t have to worry about it.”
“My cousin, Desdemona, will blame me for any difficulties.”
“You don’t have to worry about her either.”
She snorted. “Easy for you to say.”
“I’m going into the village tomorrow. I’ll talk to some of the community leaders. I intend to find as many of our old retainers as I can. You’ll have some assistance very soon.”
When he uttered comments like that, he seemed perfectly lucid, and she almost hoped he was Hayden Henley. After the horrors he’d endured during his travels, she’d like him to have a grand finale. But at the same juncture, if he was Henley, there wouldn’t be very many more occasions when she would be able to dawdle with him in a deserted bedchamber.
“You’re convinced people will accept you,” she said.
“Why wouldn’t they? My identity will be evident to anyone who was acquainted with me in the past.”
He shifted her so she was stretched out against him, her front pressed to his all the way down.
“How long have you been at Middlebury?” he asked.
“A couple of months.”
“I’m concerned about my sisters. I’m terrified about where they are and what their circumstances might be like. Have you stumbled on any news about them? Has there been any gossip?”
She froze, remembering the wedding invitation from Abigail Henley, and she was perplexed as to what her reply should be. If she told him about the wedding, she’d be acknowledging his story. If she was mum, it would be an admission that she didn’t acknowledge it.
Until she was certain of her opinion, she wouldn’t engage in any conduct that would have him pestering the unsuspecting woman. Helen needed an opportunity to ponder her course.
“No,” she fibbed, “there hasn’t been any gossip.”
“All the years I was gone, I dreamed about Middlebury. Whenever my experience was particularly grim, I’d close my eyes and picture the park on a summer day. I’d recall how green the grass was, how colorful the flowers, how blue the sky. It focused me on my goals during the roughest patches.”
The statement was so poignant and sad. She stroked her fingers across his back, touching the jagged edges of his scars. How had he survived his brutal treatment?
It had to have been his strong will, his strength of character. It was the sort of character aristocrats possessed, the sort that encouraged them to advise kings and lead armies. He was a dynamic, potent man. She couldn’t deny it, so why was she pretending he wasn’t Hayden Henley?
The prospect was so farfetched. Who came back from the dead? Who vanished for a decade, then reappeared, tattered and maimed, but hale and healthy and eager to carry on?
With each minute that ticked by, it was more likely he was telling the truth. So where did that leave her? If he was really Hayden Henley, then her predicament had become even more impossible. Why was she cuddling with him in the isolated room?
If they had been marching toward matrimony, it would be perfectly suitable for her to loaf with him. But not if he was Hayden. Not if he was an earl.
“My father insists he knows you from before,” she said.
“Yes, he met me and my father once in town. I don’t remember him though.”
She laughed. “Are you claiming my father left no lasting impression?”
He laughed too. “Not much of a one. No.”
“I guess—if he can verify who you are—I should quit arguing about it.”
“Yes, you should. Call me Hayden. I want to hear you say my name.”
She sighed. “I will call you by your Christian name if you promise to stop causing chaos and firing people.”
“I won’t desist until things are more settled.” He smiled down at her. “Say my name.”
Why not? “Hayden Henley.”
He grunted with satisfaction. “That’s more like it.”
“What will you do when Jasper arrives?”
“I’ll announce that I’m home, and I’ve resumed my rightful place. Then I’ll order him to get his sorry ass out of my house.”
“You don’t suppose he’ll contest it?”
“He can try, but what would be the point?”
“Be kind to him, would you?”
“Kind! Are you joking?”
“No. I hate spats and bickering, and all of this will be a terrible shock for him.”
“He should have been in my shoes. He should have felt the lash a time or two. That was a shock.”
“My poor, wounded viscount,” she murmured. “Are you still a viscount? Or are you an earl now? Must there be a ceremony so it’s official?”
“Probably. I’ve written to my lawyer—a letter I’m positive will make him faint—and I told him to start researching the issue.”
She kissed the center of his chest, at the spot where he’d purportedly been shot in a duel.
“You really fought a duel?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What was it about?”
“Your tender ears aren’t ready for such a salacious tale.”
“I’ll try to hold up.”
He snorted with dour amusement. “I had a fling with a strumpet, and it turned out she was married.”
“Married!”
“Her husband had been away in the army, and when he found out about our antics, he took exception to my behavior.”
“My goodness. How did he learn of it? Did she confess the affair?”
He wrinkled up his nose. “She couldn’t very well hide it.”
“Why not?”
He leaned down and whispered, “She was with child.”
Her jaw dropped in astonishment. “With your child?”
“Yes.”
“Was it a boy or a girl?”
“Neither. She lost the baby, so I skated through the debacle without becoming a father.” He flashed a wry grin. “In my own defense, I was very young and very stupid. I shouldn’t have involved myself with her, but back then, I was a bit wild. I definitely paid a steep price for being such an idiot.”
“Yes, you did.”
“After the duel, my parents whisked me out of the country so I wouldn’t be arrested. We spent a year in Italy.”
“I seem to recall some of that story.”
“Our ship sank in a storm on the way home. My parents perished, but I didn’t. I’ve always shouldered an enormous amount of guilt over my surviving and their not. They took me to Italy to protect me, and I was an ass to them while we were there.”
“I’m sure they forgave you.”
“They were kind and caring. In light of the trouble I’d caused, I was lucky they didn’t forsake me.”
“Who was the other man in the duel? I don’t believe you ever told me who he was.”
“He was a soldier. Alexander Wallace?”
She pictured the wedding invitation in Jasper’s desk. Cautiously, she inquired, “Would he be of the Wallaces at Wallace Downs?”
He blanched. “You know them?”
“Not personally,” she hurriedly replied. “I’ve just…ah…heard of the family.”
A thousand frantic questions raced in her head. Should she mention the invitation? Should she show it to him? Should she keep her mouth shut and stay out of it? What was best?
“If you ran into him,” she asked, “how would you react?”
“Most times, I figure I’d ignore him and walk on by, but other times, I figure I might murder him before he had a chance to realize who I was.”
“You would not,” she scolded.
“I might. He’s haunted me for an entire decade.”
“Maybe it’s the moment to finally let it go.”
“Maybe. It seems so odd that I was part of the reckless episode—as if it didn’t actually happen to me.”
“I know it was you. I’ve seen the scar.”
“I rode by there on my way to Middlebury.”
She scowled. “By where? By Wallace Downs?”
“Yes.”
She gazed up at him. “Please tell me you didn’t do anything rash.”
“I didn’t.” He scoffed. “I thought about it though.”
“Well, stop thinking about it.”
Then and there, she decided she had to explain about the invitation. But how? And when?
If Abigail Henley was his sister, why would she consider having Alex Wallace as her husband? Wasn’t she aware of his connection to her brother? Didn’t she understand the catastrophe Mr. Wallace had set in motion?
Yet what if she was aware of their terrible history, but was determined to wed him anyway? What if she was madly in love with Mr. Wallace, but Hayden went to Wallace Downs and killed him?
There were so many issues pummeling her that she felt dizzy. He deserved to learn about the wedding, but she was alarmed over the possible consequences, and it dawned on her that she should confide the news to Mr. Stone. He and Hayden were friends, and he had a steadying influence.
Before she could choose her path, he interrupted her anxious contemplation.
“I probably won’t slay him.”
“Good. That’s very wise and mature of you.”
“It’s just that the duel ignited the tragedy, and it sucked ten years out of my life. I’ve arrived at Middlebury to find it in ruins, so I blame Wallace for that too. He never suffered any penalty. It all landed on me. Shouldn’t he have to pay too? Should it all have been my burden but not his?”
She rubbed her palm over the scar. “Let’s talk about something else. This discussion of the event can’t be healthy for you.”
“It’s not. It keeps it at the surface—where it’s been since it occurred.”
“What about Jasper and the title? What’s next? Let’s talk about that.”
“Fine. I’ll say this: I’m not about to permit him to loaf at Middlebury and pretend we have matters to debate. We don’t. And I’m not about to have lazy servants and slothful tenants taking advantage of me. I’ll fix what’s wrong and get the estate back into the condition it was in in my dreams while I was away.”
He dipped down and kissed her, and she sighed with pleasure.
“Have I sufficiently distracted you from difficult topics?” she asked.
“Yes and no.”
“I only staggered in to inform you that you can’t be in this room.”
“I didn’t listen.”
“You’re such a vain beast. What if Jasper is angry?”
He gaped at her as if it was the stupidest question ever. “Helen, you know me.”
“Yes, I do. Or at least I think I do.”
“Can you seriously expect I would care if Jasper is angry?”
“No.”
He stepped away from her, and he went over to the bed and stretched out.
“Come over here.” He gestured for her to join him.
“Come where? Onto the bed with you?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m too exhausted to remain on my feet another second, so if you want to persist with your harangue—”
“I haven’t been haranguing.”
“Yes, you have, and if you’d like to keep on, you’ll have to proceed while I’m lying down. This has been the most stressful day, and I’m spent.”
“If you need to rest, I’ll leave.”
But she didn’t move. She studied his prone form, his delicious body that was only covered by his trousers. She’d intended to depart—she really did!—but he jumped up, grabbed her, and carried her to the bed.
He tossed her onto the mattress and flopped down next to her. She squealed with outrage and struggled to scoot away, but he was too quick. He draped a thigh across her legs and an arm across her waist, and he drew her over his chest, her ear directly over his heart so she could hear its steady beating.
“I can’t be in here with you,” she chided.
“Hush.”
“What if someone sees us?”
“No one will.”
“If it was my father, he’d demand you wed me. If that doesn’t scare the pants off of you, I don’t know what would.”
“As if your father could make me obey him.”
“He can be very forbidding.
He chortled. “You’re hilarious. Now I’m trying to relax, and I can’t when you’re blathering nonstop.”
“I can’t stay!”
“Helen! Be silent. You can go in a few minutes.”
“I suppose I can oblige you,” she grumbled.
“It’s nice just to hold you…”
It was the dearest thing anyone had ever said to her, and she glanced up to tell him so, but he’d already dozed off and was lightly snoring. He’d been that drained, and his fatigue forced her to recognize how truly challenging the day had been for him.
She’d passed the hours worrying about herself, the servants, Jasper and Cousin Des and how they’d react to his invasion. She hadn’t paused to ponder him, hadn’t paused to consider how overwhelming his return would be.
She snuggled closer, and she was very quiet, cataloguing the details so she’d never forget.
For an eternity, she nestled with him. The evening waned and night fell. The moon rose and drifted up into the sky. She tarried through it all, feeling especially protective of him, as if she had been given a unique duty to watch over him and keep him safe from harm.
When she caught herself dozing off too, she had to sneak out. She didn’t dare be found with him in the morning. She slid away, and he was slumbering so heavily he didn’t stir. She hovered, observing him, thinking—for a change—he appeared so young and innocent.
“Goodnight, my sweet prince,” she whispered. “Sleep well.”
She took a knitted throw and covered him with it. Then she tiptoed out—even though it seemed wrong to abandon him. But it wasn’t her place to remain, and she had to remember that. She continued on, and she didn’t look back.