Chapter Fourteen
West stood behind Helena on the steps of Woodley Park. Below them, Silas and Caro stepped into their traveling carriage in a flurry of farewells. But West’s attention wasn’t on his best friend and his bride. Instead his thoughts dwelled on the glorious woman who had at last consented to be his wife. His younger self had been wiser than his years when he’d set his sights on Silas’s pretty sister.
How miraculous that in such a short space, despair could transform to joy. He’d been convinced that he was a hopeless invalid with nothing to offer her. And these last days with her had confirmed something he’d always known—that Helena deserved the best of everything.
While he mightn’t be the best, he swore by everything he held holy that he’d do his best by her. Her hope was contagious. He felt better already.
By God, he’d beat this damned fever. He had something to live for now.
He stepped closer to catch the drift of her scent. Damn him if this surreptitious connection didn’t give him an illicit thrill.
She cast him a quick glance, one knowing flash of bright, black eyes. Under cover of crimson skirts, her fingers tangled with his. Odd that her presence lent his soul such peace. She wasn’t by nature a peaceful woman.
Of course if he announced their betrothal, there would be no need for subterfuge. An engaged couple holding hands might rouse interest but little disapproval, especially on such a romantic occasion. But this was Caro and Silas’s day, however much West longed to shout hallelujahs and turn somersaults. He’d have the banns called next Sunday, but for now, his betrothal remained a delicious secret between Helena and him.
He leaned forward. “Can you slip away?”
She didn’t look back, but her grip on his hand tightened. “Once
I’ve made an appearance at the staff dinner, and farewelled the guests leaving today. Any family staying on can amuse themselves this afternoon, I’m sure. And Mary or Sally can play hostess if need be.”
“Come to my room.”
“Someone will see.”
“Not if they’re all cuddled up in their own rooms.”
“What about Amy?”
She wouldn’t see his smug smile. “Ah, I’ve planned a treat for your inquisitive little sister. She’s got an appointment at Shelton Abbey to talk to my agent about crop rotation.”
Helena muffled a laugh. Not well enough. Her Great Aunt Agnes cast her a curious glance. “How Machiavellian. She’ll be in alt. The poor fellow won’t get away until midnight.”
“Suits me.” West inhaled her fragrance and felt her shiver with awareness. “I’ve missed you.”
Helena directed a sharp eye at her elderly relative as she murmured, “Give me an hour.”
“An hour will feel like eternity.”
The familiar wry smile twisted her lips. “Goodness me, West. Are you sure you’re feeling better? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”
He shrugged, unashamed of his ardor. “You’ve rumbled my secret. Under my rakish manners, I’m a sentimental fellow, my darling.”
With visible reluctance, Great Aunt Agnes shifted her attention to Caro and Silas, who waved as their carriage rolled down the drive. But West predicted when he announced his betrothal, few would be caught unawares. Great Aunt Agnes was an inveterate gossip.
With everyone’s backs turned, West dared to lift Helena’s fingers to his lips. “Don’t be too long, sweetheart.”
***
At the soft click of his bedroom door, West sprang from the chair where he’d been trying to read. Trying and failing. How could printed words occupy him, when he waited in a lather of impatience for Helena?
The moment she stepped inside, he caught her up against him for a famished kiss. Fumbling to shut the door, he pressed her back until she bumped into the wooden panels.
He was starved for her, and still not quite convinced that they’d won through to a happy ending. Only this morning, he’d been sure she was lost to him forever. The few kisses outside the church hadn’t come near to quenching his mighty need.
She kissed him back with brazen enthusiasm. It seemed he wasn’t alone in craving more than kisses. When he’d come upstairs, he’d removed his coat and shoes. Now her frantic hands tore away his neck cloth and waistcoat.
In between kisses, she gasped out a breathless explanation. “I’m sorry I took so long. Great Aunt Agnes cornered me in the drawing room. She definitely knows something’s up.”