The Madcap Marriage (28 page)

“That’s all I know about it,” said Tessa. “Quigley was that upset. He could barely talk.”

“We have to make sure he’s all right,” Helen murmured.

Rafe nodded, covering her hand in a gesture of comfort.

* * * *

Rafe stared as Audley Court loomed against the setting sun. Even Helen’s description hadn’t done it justice. His fears roared back, choking him.

The drive circled the building – its current entrance was opposite the gates – winding through an elaborate park of open vistas, woodland, lake, and formal gardens. They passed the original Tudor manor, whose crenellated walls remembered medieval unrest while large windows anticipated more peaceful times. The Elizabethan wing dropped crenellation for ornate stone latticework, and boasted even larger windows with diamond-shaped panes. But the Palladian wing was breathtaking. A double sweep of steps cradling an ornate fountain led to an elaborate columned portico. Pilasters framed beautifully proportioned windows topped by elaborate pediments. Intricate cornices crowned warm stone walls.

Pure elegance.

And it belonged to Helen.

He stiffened his spine. They needed to address her wealth, and soon. His mother’s fortune had been a festering sore between her and Hillcrest. He felt as though he were walking on eggs trying to solicit loyalty while avoiding any mention of her inheritance. It couldn’t last.

A servant opened the carriage door as it rolled to a stop. “Miss Helen!” he exclaimed, smiling in delight. At least someone seemed genuinely pleased to see her.

“Robert. Is Sir Steven or Mr. St. James in residence?”

“No, ma’am. Nor are they expected.”

“Excellent. They must never again be admitted. See that the trunks are taken upstairs. Mr. Thomas will use the green bedchamber next to mine.”

Robert circled the fountain and disappeared through the servants’ door. Two footman emerged a moment later and headed for the baggage carriage.

Rafe followed Helen up the sweeping staircase, catching his breath when they entered a double-height marble entrance hall. Pilasters marched down either side, framing alcoves displaying oversized Greek statues. Columns across the end drew the eye to a split staircase leading to the next floor. Scenes from the Greek classics covered the ceiling.

“There you are, Nalley,” said Helen to a nondescript man in a wrinkled coat standing near the stairs. “This is my husband, Mr. Thomas. Our butler, my dear.”

“Husband?”  Shock twisted Nalley’s face. “He c-can’t be. You are b-betrothed to Mr. St. James.”

“Nalley!”  She pinned him with a frigid gaze. “You are a victim of lies. There was no betrothal. I own Audley Court. My uncle and cousin took advantage of Mother’s illness to insinuate themselves into the household, but they have no rights here.”

“But—”

“If you wish, we can read Papa’s will. There is a copy in the archives.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Thomas.”

Rafe wondered. More than shock had lit those dark eyes. Was it fury?  Why?

“Good,” said Helen. “Now that you know the truth, I will expect your loyalty. If either Sir Steven or Mr. St. James returns, you will deny them entrance.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Summon the staff. They must meet their new master.”

“Of course.” But Nalley’s eyes grew darker with each command.

Rafe suspected they would need a new butler.

He watched the thirty indoor servants closely as Helen introduced him. Signs of laxity were everywhere – stained aprons, smudged liveries, soot-stained hands. Attitudes ran from pleasure through wariness to open hostility.

“The staff will be a problem,” he said when Helen showed him to his room, an elegant guest chamber larger than the master’s room at Hillcrest.

“I know. Even those who have been here for years are confused. I never dreamed that Steven might tell people he owned Audley. No wonder they turned against me so quickly.”

“Where are the archives?  I’d like to see Sir Arthur’s will.”

“The muniments room. You don’t think—”

“I think we need proof of your claims,” he said, pulling her close. “Victims of lies will be slow to believe a new story.”

She nodded.

“I wish we could turn everyone off.” His hand stroked her back.

“Impossible.” She glared. “Where would we find replacements?  This isn’t London. The next hiring fair isn’t until June. Besides, how can we turn off servants who have done nothing wrong?  Many of them were born on the estate. I refuse to act like Steven.”

“I wasn’t recommending such a course. I was merely contemplating the danger of sharing a roof with so many potential enemies. Nalley isn’t the only one disgruntled by our arrival. Vince and Charlie look more like bully boys than footmen. And Mrs. Lakes is the most disapproving woman I’ve ever seen. She makes Hillcrest seem congenial.”

Helen swept her hand across the mantel, frowning when dust smudged her glove. “She is not overly competent, either,” she concurred. “Perhaps Tessa can discover if she is causing trouble among the maids. I agree about Vince and Charlie, but if we turn them off arbitrarily, what’s to stop them from attacking the tenants or slipping back to murder us in our beds?  It would be better to catch them red-handed, so they have no complaint.”

Rafe shivered. “In the meantime, we must be careful. It will be days, if not longer, before the last of Steven’s lackeys shows his colors.”

Helen nodded, then headed for her own room.

What the devil was he doing here? Rafe wondered as he watched the sunset fade beyond the formal gardens. Audley Court was intimidating. Despite living in substandard rooms for a decade, he had never felt as insignificant as when he’d stood in Audley’s entrance hall. It didn’t matter that a viscount’s heir ranked higher than Sir Arthur and much higher than the baronet’s daughter. He didn’t belong.

Yet he had no choice but to remain, for abandoning Helen was impossible.

He shivered, fearing he was becoming attached. But surely it was only lust. Anything more would leave him vulnerable. Not that he could further his campaign tonight. Seduction must wait – a painful decision, for he’d watched the heat grow in her eyes all day, helped by suggestive gestures and pointed glances at her lips, her breasts, her…

He fought his lust into submission. Their immediate problem was safety. Nalley’s belligerence made standing guard essential, despite his aching ribs. He and Jameson would alternate watches, but he would have to sleep when not on guard.

If only they could use the master suite. It was easier to defend than the guest rooms, but it had not been cleaned after Helen’s parents’ deaths.

eleThis was a bad time to have servants they couldn’t trust.

* * * *

Helen dismissed Tessa, then stared into the grate while she tried to order her thoughts. Tessa had been agog to find her married – they reverted to friendship when alone – and had demanded every detail.

“So you can see my problem,” Helen had said after describing the last week. “I’m terrified that he will use his sexual expertise to make me sign over my trust.”

“Nonsense!”  Tessa set the brush down and started braiding Helen’s hair. “I watched him in the carriage. He wants you, I agree. But
you
, not your fortune.”

“That’s his rivalry with Alex. Each covets what the other has.”

“No.” Tessa paused, then inhaled deeply. “I’ve seen many men since leaving Audley, Miss Helen. And I’ve learned to read faces – lust, anger, celebration, and more. Mr. Thomas isn’t comfortable, but he
is
protective, and he wants you very badly. Don’t turn him away.”

“I won’t,” she’d said, not quite meaning it. She wanted nothing better than a week alone to think before making any decisions.

Tessa had left then, leaving Helen to brood. Was the girl right?

It was possible. Tessa had seen much of the sordid side of life before entering service at age sixteen. Now she’d endured more – and survived, which she could only have done by anticipating trouble. So she probably could read faces, even aristocratic ones.

The admission lightened her heart, though wariness remained. When Rafe joined her tonight, she would listen to his answers and try to believe.

Chapter Fifteen

May 27

The next morning Helen slumped at her dressing table, her head in her hands. Tension throbbed in her temples. Why had Rafe avoided her last night?

After his many pointed glances in the carriage, she’d expected him to bed her – had welcomed the idea. Her emotions had been so chaotic in the past week that she needed to soothe at least some of them. Lust was a good place to start. Perhaps relieving it would clear her head. So she’d prepared to meet Rafe.

Needlessly.

He’d not even stopped to bid her good night. When she’d finally found the courage to go to him, she’d found his room empty.

It was mortifying to realize that she’d needed more than intimacy from him. The staff’s cold suspicion and her fear that Steven might appear at any moment left her craving Rafe’s warmth. But he’d offered nothing. What was he up to now?

“I knew your head was bad,” exclaimed Tessa from the doorway. “You can’t hide pain from me. Here.” She produced headache powders and a pot of tea.

“Thank you, Tessa.” It was stupid to hide her pain. As soon as their horses were ready, she and Rafe would call on the tenants. A pounding head would make the excursion unbearable.

She closed her eyes, sighing as Tessa massaged her temples. “Did you learn anything new from the staff?” she murmured.

“Not as much as I’d hoped. Mr. Nalley and Mrs. Lakes insist I was turned off for theft. The staff follows their lead.”

Helen cursed under her breath.

“But I learned some’at from Rose.” Tessa expanded her massage to the forehead.

“What?”

“No matter what you say, Mr. Nalley and Mrs. Lakes consider Sir Steven their master – you’ll have to replace both of them, like as not. Sir Steven vowed vengeance on anyone who opposed his orders, so no one dares speak up in your favor. He won’t toss troublemakers out without a reference this time. There’ll be heads broke.”

Helen and Rafe had discussed the staff problem over breakfast – it had already been apparent that service would be grudging while Nalley remained. But turning off those acting from fear of Nalley or Steven was unfair.

In the end, they’d sent Robert to London for copies of the will and the trust documents – the estate’s copies had disappeared. Robert had served as underbutler for several years and would replace Nalley when he returned, but she hoped the rest of the staff would settle once they saw the evidence for themselves.

In the meantime, they would have to live with tepid water, slow service, and other annoyances. But at least she and Rafe had managed the discussion with no hint of argument, which boded well for the future.

“There’s more,” continued Tessa. “Sir Steven told the neighbors that Sir Arthur came to his senses last year and apologized for the childish dispute that had caused their rift. He changed his will and summoned Sir Steven to Audley, but died before he arrived.”

“That’s preposterous!”  The outburst sent knives slicing through her head. “Father was too weak those last months to write, and his mind barely functioned. Half the time he didn’t recognize anyone. There was no way he could have corresponded with Steven. Nor would he have tried.”

“You know that, and I know that.” Tessa busied herself setting the room to rights. “But the last time the neighbors saw him, he was mentally alert. You kept his senility a secret, so no one understood his condition. Many men make peace with their enemies before the end.”

Helen nearly choked. It sounded all too plausible.

She’d been afraid that revealing his fall into senility would call his judgment into question, casting new suspicions on her ability to run Audley. And it was a valid fear. Without his seeming support, many would have refused to do business with her. But it was unfortunate that it had given Steven an opening.

“In your favor, people find Sir Steven obsequious, and they loathe Mr. Dudley,” continued Tessa. “And not just for his arrogance. He mauled the butcher for interrupting an assault on his daughter. Missy escaped with her innocence intact – she’s contracted to Tom Freeman, by the way – but Mr. Mortimer’s leg will never be the same. Mr. Dudley snapped it like a twig.”

“I’ll call on him,” she promised. But her heart sank. How many other crimes had Dudley and Steven committed against her people?

“Be careful in the village,” added Tessa. “Mr. Dudley and Mr. Smith are fast friends.”

Helen cursed, though she should have expected it. The blacksmith had been a problem for years. Perhaps Rafe could discover what he’d been doing in recent months. It was the sort of help he’d offered. He could enter taprooms and other places a lady could not.

“Find my habit, Tessa. The horses should be here soon.”

But they weren’t. Helen had been in the estate office for half an hour before Rafe returned from the stable. “Nalley neglected to order horses,” he reported. “My coachman is overseeing their preparation now. I’ll fetch you when they arrive.”

Helen smiled. Nalley was making it easy to replace him.

* * * *

Rafe barely kept his temper in check as he dismounted in the stable yard eight hours later. Helen didn’t wait for his help, but jumped down on her own.

“Walk with me,” he commanded when she turned toward the house. “We need to talk, but not in front of the staff.”

“Can’t this wait?  My head hurts, and I have to finish examining the books.”

“No.” He led her to the far corner of the rose garden while memories of the estate tour flogged his mind. Rooting out Steven’s influence would be harder than he’d thought. Ignorance, prejudice, and inertia combined to make everyone wary. Nine months had accustomed them to Steven’s rule. Even those who hated Steven would be slow to change.

The day had both humiliated and humbled him as he’d escorted Helen around a larger domain than he’d imagined. It wasn’t just Audley’s value that gave him pause. His mind hadn’t translated her diatribe at Hillcrest into an appreciation of Audley’s vastness – four dozen tenants, villages, weavers, cheesemakers, a mill, a pottery…