Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

" I s it true that you are Lord Addersley's brother?" Helena asked the man before her, as if she had just encountered him at tea in her aunt's drawing room. "I had understood that Gerald Hargood was among the casualties at Waterloo."

"I ensured that all believed as much," Gerald said. "It suited my plans best."

Helena did not think she would like his plans, but delayed asking about them for the moment.

"Francis then must be your son," she said, gesturing to the boy who had brought them to this place.

"He saw us last week," the woman said, her tone rising as if she expected to be challenged. "He arranged it all." There was a hint of admiration in her tone but Gerald gave her such a look that she flinched.

"He gave me a ha-penny, too," Francis said with satisfaction.

"Then why did you fight with him yesterday?" Helena demanded of Gerald. "Surely you had no argument with him ensuring the welfare of your family?"

"He spends a few pounds and I am to fall on my knees before him?" Gerald sneered. "Lord of the manor. Casting alms to the poor. Perhaps he thinks it pearls before swine."

Helena felt her indignation rise. "The viscount ensured the welfare of your mistress and son, which evidently you had never done! He had no obligation to do as much."

"And I had no coin to do as much," Gerald snarled.

"I do not believe it. You wasted what you were granted."

"What do you know of it?"

"I know that your brother is a fine and honorable man, a respectable man worthy of anyone's trust and respect."

Gerald snorted.

"And I know that you strove to assault me yesterday, which is no good indication of your character."

"He has taken everything from me," Gerald retorted. "Now I shall take everything from him."

Helena did not like the sound of that. "But why? Were you not raised with every advantage?"

"All advantages save the important ones. The title. The legacy. The fortune."

"But he is the older son."

"And he is the lesser son!" Gerald declared, jabbing a thumb at his own chest. His manner became so agitated that Helena tried to ease closer to the door. " I should have been viscount. I should have been Father's favorite. I should never have been sent to war, and I should have been welcomed when I returned. Even Joshua's betrothed recognized that I was the better man. Charlotte adored me, not him!"

"I hardly think it a testament to your character that you courted the lady who was betrothed to your brother." In other circumstance, Helena might have been surprised to find herself sounding so prim. As it was, her fear was rising and she knew only that she had to keep Gerald talking. "Nor does it say much of hers that she chose to welcome your advances."

"I took her, just as I will take you."

"I am not yours to claim, sir," Helena said, though her fear was mounting.

"And Francis will be a viscount," Mrs. Lewis contributed.

Helena looked between the two of them. "But Francis can only inherit the title if Mr. Hargood claims the title, and that can only happen if the viscount dies first."

Gerald smiled at her. "Finally, you understand. I must say, Joshua does have an affection for foolish women. Charlotte took months to comprehend that Joshua's close calls were not accidental."

Helena bristled on that lady's behalf. "What close calls?"

Gerald laughed. "Do you truly believe that I could not fight my own duels? No, I convinced Joshua that I could not duel, that he must take my place, then challenged every marksman I could find."

"And you courted Miss Havilland."

"I seduced her."

"Yet you did not love her."

He laughed. "Love? Of course not. It was the principle of the matter. No one would have found me such a wealthy wife. No one would have arranged my match. No one cared if I did not wed at all. Why should I not have Joshua's wife first? I would seduce her better than he ever could." He took a step closer. "Why should I not have you first?"

"Gerald!" Mrs. Lewis protested.

"I will have you first, and he will see it before he dies." Gerald shed his jacket. "He will follow you here and find you despoiled, a fitting reward for both of you, then he will die."

"Miss!" Becky whispered.

Truly, Helena had nothing to lose in speaking the truth.

"You are despicable!" she said, her words low and hot. "You are all foul beyond compare. Your brother has treated you with honor and dignity and you would insult him, rob him and injure him after his kindness to you." Knowing that Gerald's heart could not be reached – indeed, she doubted he possessed one – she spun to face Francis. "A fortnight ago, did you have any prospect of an apprenticeship?" The boy shook his head, eyes wide. "So, you show your gratitude for this opportunity, which the viscount was under no obligation to provide, by betraying his trust? You tempt me here, at this man's bidding, knowing full well that my fate will not be good?"

"I did not know, my lady…" the boy protested but he dropped his gaze.

"I do not believe it. By participating in this scheme, you show that a foul nature can be inherited. I am ashamed of you, Francis."

Francis looked as if he might cry. He hastily unbolted the door and lunged through it, his footsteps echoing on the street. Helena gave Becky a shove and the maid tried to follow.

Before she could reach the door, Gerald lunged forward. He was between Becky and the door, then closed it with a savage gesture and bolted it. "We have need of a witness," he whispered and Becky retreated even as she shivered.

Helena took a breath, determined to hide her fear.

"And you," she turned her attention to Mrs. Lewis. "An annuity is given to you, yet you contrive the downfall of the man who has graciously provided it."

"I will be a viscountess," she said proudly. "I will have no need of a little annuity. I will have all the wealth of Addersley Manor to call my own, and my son will inherit the title."

"You are assuming that the viscount will die."

"He will die," Gerald said. "He has been fortunate time and again, but this time, he will die."

"You have tried to kill him before," Helena said, wanting him to declare as much. Gerald was not the only one who could make use of a witness.

Gerald smiled, an expression so cold that she shivered. His confidence was such that she understood another detail.

"It was not Miss Havilland who was supposed to die that night," she suggested and his grin widened.

"I should have told her we were changing places," he said. "She heard that I had challenged Michaels and everyone knew that Michaels never missed. I even started a wager that he would miss this time, the better to goad him into taking that shot. Then I pretended to be uncertain so Joshua would fight in my stead. He always has to step in to save matters." Gerald spat on the floor. "Charlotte had to ruin it all by interfering. Stupid woman."

"Maybe not so stupid as that," Helena said, wanting only to shake his confidence. There was a small knife on the table closest to her and to seize it, she would have to distract Gerald. "I find it easy to tell the two of you apart, though the resemblance is strong," she said, daring to provoke him. "I am certain Miss Havilland knew the duelist was your brother, and that as he held her heart, she strove to save him."

"You lie!" Gerald said, his eyes flashing, and reached back for his knife.

Helena, undaunted, stepped quickly toward the table and claimed the small knife, hiding it in her skirts by the time he looked up. "Did she refuse your advances? Did she favor your brother over you, and remain loyal to her betrothed?"

"You know nothing!"

"I will guess that your father bought you a commission because he knew the truth. He knew you meant to kill your brother. He knew you had tried. So, he did the only thing a father could do to defend his heir without scandal, he sent you to war."

Gerald's expression hardened.

"That's why you knew he wouldn't be glad of your survival," she continued easing away from Becky and toward a corner. "That's why he didn't welcome your return. He knew that you would try again."

"He always preferred Joshua. I deserve the title!"

"Murderers don't inherit titles."

Gerald laughed. "I'm not such a fool as to do it myself."

"He will die, and I will be viscountess," Mrs. Lewis insisted.

Helena saw the pitying glance that Gerald granted her.

"He is not going to marry you," she said to the other woman. "He will never marry you. He is here because he needs you for the moment, perhaps to have a refuge. He cares only for his own advantage, and if he ever inherits the title, his association with you would bring him nothing. He will dismiss and forget you."

"He would not…"

"He will ," Helena said. "I knew a man just like him. He was all grace and courtesy, so long as he believed I was heiress to a fortune. Once he learned otherwise, the truth of his nature was revealed." She smiled coolly at Gerald. "This man would spend every penny of an inheritance, then he would wed an heiress to ensure his own comfort. He will take your annuity and he will claim the funds allocated for that apprenticeship, he will sell everything he can and he will spend only on his own comfort. He will not ensure the welfare of any of you. It is his brother who has done as much to date, and his brother who is the finer man."

"I heard as you declined him," Mrs. Lewis said, her tone snide.

"Because I was a fool who did not see his merit."

"You are still the one he wants," Gerald said. "And that, you must see, is why I must take you away from him." He raised the knife and stepped closer, his intention more than clear. Helena found the wall behind her back and could not summon another word to her lips. She had no more questions, no more means of stalling, and Gerald knew it. There was a kind of glee in his eyes, a focus on his scheme that ignored all other details.

He did not hear the running footsteps in the lane.

He glanced toward the door at the sound of the viscount's shout. "Miss Emerson!"

"I am here!" she cried, even as Gerald lunged toward her.

There was a crash of splintering wood as the door was forced open. Helena saw Gerald glance over his shoulder, then was blinded by the sudden glare of daylight. A shadow moved across the opening and Mrs. Lewis screamed. There was a crack, a clatter and a thump.

Then such stillness that she opened her eyes to look.

Joshua stood in front of Mrs. Jameson's shop, unable to fathom what had happened to Miss Emerson and her maid. There was no sign of them. They were not in the shop, though they were not long departed, by the dressmaker's word. Where could they have gone? Surely she would not have ventured into the tavern?

Joshua found himself uncertain what Miss Emerson might do, which to be sure, was a measure of her appeal.

He noticed Mrs. Lewis' brother leaning against a nearby building, looking as if he summoned his nerve for some deed. Joshua looked down the street for Miss Emerson, not wanting to have another discussion about him owing for Mrs. Lewis' next child. He was resolving to walk toward the inn in search of Miss Emerson as a young boy raced up to him.

It was Francis Lewis.

"Sir!" he said. "You must come. The lady who awaited you here is in danger."

Joshua was immediately alarmed. "Where has she gone?"

The boy pointed, then led the way. Joshua strode after him, his fear rising at the boy's manner. Why had Miss Emerson left this spot? He prayed her impulse did not steer her false.

He did not like that they turned down a lane, nor did he like that Mrs. Lewis' brother followed behind him. Joshua had the sense of a trap closing around him, but he could not abandon Miss Emerson if she was in need.

The boy went to a door and tried to open it, without success. Joshua could hear an argument within and a woman's voice that might be that of his lady. "Miss Emerson?" he roared, and was relieved when she replied. Her voice was high and he knew she was fearful. He shook the door, which was more doughty than it looked at first, and took a step back with the intention of forcing it.

Instead, a dark shadow barreled past him and collided heavily with the door, splintering it and sending it crashing inward on its hinges. Mrs. Lewis' brother William had shattered the door. More importantly, the beam of sunlight revealed Gerald within, a knife held high as he threatened someone. Mrs. Lewis screamed as the door fell in. Gerald lunged forward even as William roared with fury and seized a stool, bringing it down upon Gerald's head with a crash.

"I told you never to come here again," he growled as Gerald crumpled to the floor, a pool of blood spreading rapidly around him. "You would leave my sister soiled once more."

"My lord!" Mrs. Lewis shrieked and fell to her knees beside Gerald.

His brother did not move. Given the rapidly growing pool of blood around him, Joshua suspected he might never move again.

"God in heaven," whispered Becky, who looked as if her knees might fold beneath her.

And then there was Miss Emerson, pale with fear but defiant, a small knife clutched in her hand. She was backed into the corner, her parcel from the dressmaker clutched against her chest. "I had to come, my lord," she whispered. "I had to discover whether she knew your brother's refuge."

And she had found it, almost at her own expense.

"I fetched him, my lady, I fetched him," Francis said to Miss Emerson. "You were right, my lady, so I fetched him."

Miss Emerson smiled at the boy. "You did well, Francis," she said quietly, the tremor in her voice revealing her own fear.

William let the last leg of the stool slip from his grasp, even as he stared down at Gerald. "I did not mean to do it," he whispered. "But I could not let him betray her again." He appealed to Joshua. "He lied to my sister and she believed him. You made it all right after I wrote to you, though," he said to Joshua, then eyed Gerald and Mrs. Lewis. "You made it right." His sigh came from his very toes. "That wrong had to be righted." He pushed his hand through his hair and sat on the floor beside Gerald.

So, it had been Mrs. Lewis' brother behind the notes, and Gerald's seduction of Mrs. Lewis had been the crime.

"Find the magistrate," Joshua told Francis, who pivoted and ran to do his bidding.

He stepped across the threshold himself and paused beside Gerald only long enough to ascertain that his brother was dead. Then he went directly to Miss Emerson. She trembled but did not falter.

"He confessed," she said. "And Becky heard as much, too. You were supposed to die in that duel, not Miss Havilland. That was why your father sent him away. He knew . Your father knew and he wanted only to protect you." Joshua was astonished. Miss Emerson took a shaking breath, pity lighting her gaze as she considered Gerald. "He meant to kill you now," she added. "That was why Mrs. Lewis expected to become a viscountess."

It made a treacherous sense. Joshua could scarce believe that his brother had hated him so very much. All the same, he could not doubt Miss Emerson. He was awed that she had sought out this confession, that she had taken such a risk so he might know the truth. Even as he considered the revelation, though, a hundred little details fell into place. Finally the puzzle was complete.

"It is true, sir," Becky said. "Every word of it."

But Joshua had already recognized as much.

And the lady who had solved the riddle stood before him. He offered Miss Emerson his hand. She placed the knife carefully on the edge of a table, then seized his hand, her grip so tight that he knew she was deeply shaken. Her valor impressed him mightily, but when he felt how she was shaking, Joshua swept her into his arms, wanting only to see her away from this scene.

He heard her sigh with a contentment that warmed his heart. He felt her lean against him, utterly confident in his protection, and knew he would do anything to defend her.

For he loved this lady, heart and soul, and she alone could make his life complete.

Once the viscount arrived, Helena knew that all would be resolved. Though she did not wish to be apart from him, he took her and Becky to Haynesdale House, where the dowager duchess poured them tea and demanded the entire tale.

The viscount returned to what was apparently the home of William Jones, Mrs. Lewis' brother, and ensured that the magistrate's task was fulfilled. He returned an hour or so later, grim and inscrutable, then returned them to Bramble Cottage. Helena knew that he was shocked by his brother's animosity, for once again, he might have been made of stone.

They had just arrived at Bramble Cottage when a covered cart passed, on its way to Addersley Manor. Helena saw the shadow cross the viscount's features and knew his brother was being taken home for the last time.

"I am so sorry," she whispered.

"As am I, Miss Emerson," he said in his lovely deep voice. "As am I."

"You must feel it more greatly, having lost him twice."

But a week ago, she knew he would have turned away, but he hesitated, then spoke again. "I feel I lost him thrice, Miss Emerson, each time more painful than the one before. I only wished that we might one day be reconciled."

She smiled at him and pressed his hand. He looked down at her hand resting upon his, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "I do not know when our paths will cross again, Miss Emerson. My house will be in mourning, as is right and proper."

Helena understood. He would not attend the ball at Haynesdale House.

"Of course," she said softly and he kissed her hand, his gaze rising to lock with hers.

"I trust you will find a plethora of willing partners," he said, but Helena knew that she wanted only one. He turned then and strode to the gig, as crisp and composed as ever. She stood in the yard and watched him go, yearning for what might never be.

If ever Addersley Manor had seemed quiet and lonely, that had been nothing compared to its echoing emptiness on this night. Joshua knew he would never sleep, his thoughts still spinning at the depth of Gerald's malice.

His brother, his own brother, had despised him—and he had never guessed the truth. Oh, he knew that Gerald often made jests at his expense, and he was aware that Gerald had courted the attentions of his betrothed…and he knew that Gerald had stolen from the house, and he knew that Gerald had threatened Miss Emerson, simply because Joshua admired her.

The truth was that he had often suspected this truth, but had refused to believe it.

He recalled the night of that last duel and saw a dozen little hints and signs that he had overlooked before. Perhaps he had deliberately overlooked them. Perhaps he had been unwilling to believe that he and Gerald were not as close as brothers might be.

He went through the entire house, seeing it as Gerald must have done, not as an obligation or a responsibility or even a gift, but as the possession of another. As an injustice. As a goal. The realization saddened him as much as Gerald's death.

William Jones awaited the duke's return and the justice he so admired. Mrs. Lewis would raise another child without a father, though the annuity would mean that she did not starve. Joshua dared to hope that Francis would make a good smith. Gerald would be buried in the family cemetery and mourned yet again, but this time, he would not rise from the dead to return.

Did Specter know that Gerald was gone? It seemed the horse did, for he was unusually calm on this night. Joshua went through the stables, spoke with Hoskins, accepted the condolences of his staff, and took two dogs into the house for company. He could not face the meal that Mrs. Baird prepared for him, or the vast emptiness of the dining room, despite Fairfax's encouragement. He left the dogs snoring before the fire in the library, amused to think that Miss Emerson would approve.

Miss Emerson. He could not think of her, of the peril she had faced, of the possibility that she could have been injured.

In his chambers, Reed was buffing the tall black boots that had been in storage. "I thought as they would be fitting for the funeral, sir," he said, and Joshua nodded agreement. They reviewed together the clothing that Reed had laid out for the service the following day. It would be small and private, Gerald having been mourned once already.

"Not this waistcoat," Joshua said, noticing the green and gold striped one with the embroidery. "It is too decorative for such services."

"But not for a ball, my lord."

"I cannot attend Lady Haynesdale's ball, Reed, not after my brother's funeral. It would not be fitting."

Reed cleared his throat. "But you have been in mourning for your brother's loss over a year, sir. I believe an exception could be made."

Joshua considered the waistcoat, the one he had worn the night he had carried Miss Emerson home, the garment that had filled him with such a welcome sense of possibilities. "You are right, Reed," he said, his mood improving with the choice. "I will order the coach, in case the ladies from Bramble Cottage have need of conveyance home afterward. Fairfax did say there might be rain tomorrow night."

"A wise choice, sir. It is an admirable trait for a gentleman to be prepared to be of service to ladies." He gestured. "The black trousers for the service, then, and the buff breeches for the ball?"

It was a glorious night for a ball. The skies were clear and the moon was just a whisker past half full. It hung silvery overhead, the stars glittering all around it. Helena peered out the window of Nicholas' carriage as they drew near Haynesdale House. Torches flared before the house, footmen hastening to open coach and carriage doors as the guests arrived. Everything, it seemed to Helena, glittered and the night might have been made for magic.

She wore a new dress, a white confection that shimmered with gold embroidery upon the hem. She wore her new ivory slippers and there were golden leaves twined into her hair. Aunt Fanny had been distraught that she possessed no gems, but Helena did not care. She wore the little gold chain that she had from her mother, with its tiny pendant of a rose carved from coral. Her gloves were glorious, borrowed from Eliza, made of gleaming white satin that extended past her elbows. She felt like a queen and wished only that there was a prospect of the viscount attending. Even if he did not dance, even if he spoke to her in his wondrous deep voice, even if he merely looked at her, his eyes glimmering and a little smile curving his lips, her evening would have been complete.

Only a day had passed and she missed him utterly.

Nicholas had sent the carriage to Bramble Cottage for herself and Aunt Fanny, then he and Eliza had joined them when the carriage passed Southpoint. All of them were most handsome, to Helena's view, though she preferred her brother in regimentals. Eliza was attractive in silver and pale blue, while Aunt Fanny wore her favored pewter and silver gown and a small tiara graced with pearls.

They had to wait in a line of arriving carriages, but finally reached the base of the steps. A footman opened the door and another offered his hand to Aunt Fanny. All the windows of Haynesdale House were alight, a sight most festive and welcoming. Nicholas and Eliza led their small party up the stairs to the open door. Footmen took the ladies' cloaks and they continued up the sweeping staircase to the ballroom, where their arrival was announced.

In truth, the room was so crowded and the noise so great that no one could hear the names of the new arrivals. The orchestra was playing a jig, though there were few dancers so early in the evening. Footmen moved through the crowd of chattering guests with trays of glasses. Aunt Fanny spied Lady Haynesdale and ensured they made their way to their hostess to make their compliments.

"Is your son returned?" Nicholas asked, just as Helena had hoped he might.

"Yes!" Lady Haynesdale declared. "Damien only just returned this afternoon, though there is no telling whether he will come to dance. He is exhausted from his errand, poor lamb, and was most disgruntled to learn that there would be a ball on this night. I cannot believe he had forgotten."

Nicholas seemed to be fighting a smile. "I can imagine his response."

Lady Haynesdale's gaze rising to another guest and she smiled a greeting. "Why, the judge did manage to come!"

Helena watched Lady Haynesdale move to greet a gentleman so elderly that he could scarce walk, let alone dance, then turned to survey the room herself. There were no less than three chandeliers, ablaze with candles, and already the room was becoming warm.

One wall of the ballroom looked over a stone terrace, offering a view of the shadowed gardens below. Several of the doors to the terrace were open, admitting the beguiling scent of fresh flowers and the tinkle of fountains. The small orchestra played with finesse and the floor was crowded with dancers.

Nicholas ensured that Helena was introduced to a number of young men and she soon was dancing without pause. She could not keep herself from stealing glances toward the doors, in hope of a glimpse of the viscount, even though she knew he did not plan to attend.

In truth, it was difficult to recall how much she had anticipated this event. In the viscount's absence, it was very nice, but already the time drew as long as her current companion's tale of a hunting expedition. He was the son of a country squire and most attentive, though Helena had no more than a polite interest in his tales of his prowess at the hunt.

She thought to ask him why he hunted at all, turned to do as much, and fell silent in astonishment.

Lord Addersley had just entered the ballroom and was speaking to the dowager duchess. He was taller than that lady and looked down at her, smiling slightly at whatever she confided in him. His hair was a little tousled and he wore a splendid silk waistcoat of green and gold that was achingly familiar. Helena caught her breath at the sight of him, her heart fluttering.

He had come!

When he glanced over the ballroom, his gaze collided with hers and her heart stopped.

Did he smile? Just a little? She thought he did, but then he stepped out of view.

The duke had arrived.

Helena wished he would move, for he blocked her view of the viscount.

"His Grace, Damien DeVries, the Duke of Haynesdale, and his ward, Mlle. Sylvie Lafleur!"

The duke was a familiar figure with his limp and his cane, but it seemed to Helena that he leaned less upon it than had previously been the case. He seemed younger and straighter, with greater vigor in his manner since she had last seen him.

He still was impossibly ancient, but Helena doubted she was alone in wondering whether the young lady by his side should be credited with the change. She was blonde and lovely, perhaps even younger than Helena, her gaze downcast modestly as the duke beamed at her with pride. His manner was protective and Helena knew she could not be the only one who suspected this must be his intended duchess.

And yet, she was not disappointed to find her own ambitions thwarted. She wished him joy. She wished both of them joy.

Indeed, she could not recall why she had imagined the duke to be so alluring.

The orchestra began to play and the guests cleared the floor. A few couples moved to take their positions for the dance to begin, and Helena gripped her hands together in anticipation when she caught sight of the viscount again. The squire's son cleared his throat pointedly, but her gaze was fixed on Lord Addersley.

Would he dance?

Had she persuaded him?

Would he dance with her? Helena hoped with all her heart that he might.

But the man in question turned, bowed, and invited the duke's ward to dance.

This could not be!

Helena stared, knowing her shock and dismay would be evident to all, and not caring a whit. He led the lady to the dance floor and turned her elegantly, then they began to dance. That he danced beautifully was no consolation when he danced with another.

Helena had convinced him to compromise his vow, yet he had done as much for someone else, someone he did not even know.

"You did refuse him, my dear," Aunt murmured from beside her and Helena knew she flushed crimson.

"Refuse who?" the squire's son asked, looking between Helena and the dancers.

That folly had been before, before she saw the viscount's merit, before she fell in love with him, before she knew that he was the only man who would satisfy her.

But her realization had come too late. She flung herself through the doors to the terrace, not caring who saw her distress or how scandalous her behavior might be considered.

"Miss Emerson?"

Helena spun at the sound of a familiar voice. The viscount was silhouetted in the lights of the ballroom, and she hated that she could not see his features.

His expression would be inscrutable, though, she knew that much and the realization made her smile. The truth of his thoughts was in his voice and his manner, and she could hear that he was uncertain of his welcome. Her mouth was dry but she turned to face him, striving to hide her own uncertainty.

"I thought you did not dance," she said, then feared it sounded like an accusation.

He stepped toward her, apparently undeterred. "I have been assured of the merit of seizing what opportunity presents itself."

"I thought you did not plan to attend this evening."

"And so I did not, but again, I was reminded of the risk of lost opportunity." He stood before her now, his features shadowed but his eyes glinting. "Dare I hope that my presence is not unwelcome?"

"Of course not," Helena said, feeling flustered by his scrutiny.

"And what of my companionship here?"

"I am honored by your attentions," she managed to say.

"I would have you know, Miss Emerson, the reason why Lady Haynesdale summoned me yesterday. I meant to confide it in you afterward, but..." A frown touched his brow and she longed to smooth it away with a fingertip.

"But matters went awry," she provided and he nodded agreement.

"They did, indeed. Lady Haynesdale is possessed of a notion that I am in need of a bride, and convinced that the duke's ward would be the ideal choice. She would not be readily dissuaded from her view, and insisted I claim the first three dances with Mlle. LaFleur." His gaze met hers and Helena's heart leapt with hope.

"You danced only one," she noted.

"Indeed." He captured her hand in his and lifted it, entwining their fingers and watching their hands. That gave Helena the opportunity to watch him closely and admire, not just his attractiveness but his very nature. Of course, he kept a promise that he made. He was reliable in all things. It was part of what she loved about him. "I confess that when I was obliged to make that promise, it was my hope that I would be otherwise committed by this evening. In being thus, no one would be able to fault me for letting another man take Mlle. LaFleur to the floor first." His gaze slid to hers again, his manner so intent that Helena felt hot to her toes.

"How might you be otherwise committed, sir?" she managed to ask.

"By already having chosen a bride, and having won that lady's agreement, of course." He caught her other hand in his as Helena's heart thundered. "I meant to renew my addresses to you yesterday, Miss Emerson, and dared to hope that my second offer might be accepted."

"Oh!"

"Oh," he echoed and she saw his smile. "I do recognize, though, that you have conditions upon the nature of any man you might choose to wed." A waltz began to play and he met her gaze steadily. "Might I have this dance, Miss Emerson?"

"Here?" Helena caught her breath. "In the moonlight?" The very prospect was exciting beyond all and she knew that such a dance would be one she would long remember.

"Where else?"

"It would be scandalous indeed to waltz without supervision, sir."

The viscount nodded as he considered this. "That is true, Miss Emerson. Would it not be unfortunate, though, to never know what it is like to waltz on a terrace like this, on a night like this, beneath the stars?"

Helena could not suppress her smile. "You read my own thoughts, sir."

His smile flashed. "Perhaps the sole solution is to do as much with a man you are pledged to marry."

"I think that would be far less scandalous. It might even be appropriate to share such an experience with that man."

"Indeed. Will you do me the honor of accepting this dance, Miss Emerson, with the understanding that I will make an offer of marriage if the dance is deemed acceptable?"

Helena laughed. "I will." She moved into his arms with contentment. As anticipated, he was an elegant dancer and they moved across the terrace smoothly, the weight of his hand on the back of her waist. He was close, so deliciously close, and she was excited beyond all. She wanted the dance to last forever.

As they turned, she saw the gold and green stripes of his waistcoat and the embroidery she would never forget. Her champion. How could she have doubted that he was the man for her?

She looked up to find him smiling down at her. "I must confess that I have another condition, my lord."

"I have no doubt of it. You are a lady of firm convictions."

"And you do not find that a flaw?"

"I find it most admirable to encounter a lady who knows her own desires." He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. "I invite you to confide them in me, Miss Emerson."

Helena closed her eyes in delight. "I thought, sir, that you abandoned all the pleasures of your rakehell days."

"It is true that I did, but now I consider that such experiences had a purpose."

"Truly?"

"Truly. For I have realized that such temptations can be savored in smaller measure, that a man can be wicked, for example, for only his lady wife, to ensure their mutual satisfaction, but be sober and reliable in all other facets of his life."

"What a notion, sir."

"I did not mean to scandalize you, Miss Emerson."

"No, sir, I find the suggestion most compelling."

He chuckled, a lovely sound that Helena wanted to hear again and again. "Now, what of your next condition, Miss Emerson?"

"I must be certain that the man I wed is the same man who captured my heart the day that I turned my ankle."

His brows rose. "A man captured your heart and you are unaware of his identity?"

"He was disguised, but no hood could hide his merit."

The viscount smiled, his eyes fairly glowing. "And how would you be sure of his identity, Miss Emerson, if he was disguised?"

"His kiss will reveal his true identity. I am quite certain of it."

He feigned astonishment so that she laughed again. "His kiss? Miss Emerson, are you in the habit of kissing strangers in disguise?"

"Only when such a man captures my heart."

"And how frequent an occurrence might this be?"

"It has occurred only once, sir, and my heart remains in the keeping of my champion."

"If only you knew who he was."

"If only." Helena smiled up at him as the music changed and he spun her to a halt. She remained in the circle of his arms, happier than she had ever anticipated she might be in Nottinghamshire.

"Then let me make a case in my own favor," Lord Addersley murmured, his hand sliding into her hair as he pulled her closer. "And hope against hope that you might be convinced to accept me this time." His mouth closed over hers with all the assurance and power that she recalled, his kiss deepening with satisfaction as she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Long moments later, there was the sound of a footfall on the terrace. "Helena!" Aunt cried and the viscount lifted his head, shielding her from view.

"Dare I hope my suit is accepted, Miss Emerson?" he whispered against her ear.

"You know it is, sir," she said, watching his smile broaden.

"Joshua," he murmured and she repeated his name with pleasure.

"Dare I hope you have a special license?"

"I have arranged to collect it tomorrow," he confessed. "For I have become convinced of the merit of haste in such opportunities as this one."

Helena laughed with delight, stretching to her toes to kiss her champion again.