Lord Trent: Love's Price Part 46

Mentally, she scolded herself, ordering herself to buck up, to ignore any tender sentiment.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked.

He spun around, and instantly, she was impaled by those magnetic blue eyes, which made it impossible to look away.

"h.e.l.lo, Helen."

She didn't curtsy, didn't nod or display any sign of deference. He studied her, being maddeningly silent, and when he couldn't begin, she seized the initiative.

"Why are you here?" she inquired.

She was eager for him to state his case and go without her having to involve any of her new family. If Phillip or Michael had to intervene, she would be so embarra.s.sed.

"How have you been?" he said.

In light of all that had transpired, it was the stupidest question she'd ever heard, and she stomped over until they were toe to toe. But she'd forgotten how her body reacted whenever he was near.

She was overwhelmed by his height, his heat, his smell, and she could barely keep from falling into his arms and gushing about how glad she was to see him.

"I didn't steal Miss Wilson's jewelry," she said.

"Miranda's...jewelry?"

"So if that's why you're here, you can just leave. I won't listen to any accusations, and I will not defend myself to you."

He appeared very confused. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"A likely story."

"Seriously. I know nothing about any jewelry."

Now Helen was confused too, and a niggling suspicion dawned.

"Ah...by any chance," she stammered, "did you mention some missing jewelry to my cousin Nigel that day you visited us in the country?"

"No."

"Oh."

"What is it?"

"He said Miranda had accused me of theft and that you wanted the items back."

"If Miranda had raised such an allegation-which she didn't, by the way-I would never have believed such a thing about you."

"Oh," she mumbled again, and she whipped away and walked to the other side of the room, her back to him.

His presence made it difficult to think, difficult to focus. She couldn't breathe, couldn't reason clearly.

"My brother informs me," he said, "that Nigel Stewart captured your sister for Bentley Struthers-for the reward."

"Yes, he did."

She added nothing further, declining to discuss the horrid duplicity. Her depressing history with her kin wasn't any of Westwood's business.

"Have you ever wondered why he harbored such animosity toward you and Harriet? I'm curious as to why he would conspire with Struthers to her detriment."

"For the money. Why would you suppose?" She whirled to face him. "Is there something you wanted? Please get to the point. If you're not here to argue over stolen jewelry, then what is it?"

"Your cousin told me he'd married you."

Helen was outraged. "He said that?"

"Yes. When I was leaving Brookhaven, when I saw you out on the road, that's why I was so angry."

She considered his comment, then shook her head in consternation. Why would he care if she married Nigel or anyone?

"I don't understand you," she said.

"He...he...told me something else, too."

He flushed with chagrin, but when he couldn't say whatever it was, she seethed, "What is it? Spit it out."

"He claimed he wed you in a hurry, that you were...in trouble and he was helping you avoid a scandal."

Her temper sparked. "You thought I was increasing?"

"Yes."

"You thought I would keep such a terrible secret from you?"

Numerous emotions flitted across his handsome face, so many that she couldn't name them all.

"I don't know what I thought, but still, I must ask: Are you increasing?"

"No, so if that's what you came to learn, you have your answer. So get out of here before I have Phillip throw you out."

He didn't move, and she shouted, "Are you deaf? Get out!"

Her fury rattled loose his own temper, and instead of departing as she'd demanded, he stormed over to her.

"You left me," he charged, and he grabbed her by the shoulders. "You waited until I was away from home, then you left."

"I did nothing of the sort. You sent me away."

"What? I never would have!"

She couldn't bear to be touched by him for it conjured images of all the times he'd touched her in a gentle way, all the times he'd shown her how wonderful they could be together. She pushed him back, creating s.p.a.ce between them.

"You wrote me a letter!" His eyes narrowed as he calculated a reply, and she said, "Don't you dare deny it. I know your handwriting. You gave me a week's severance, and I was out on the street like that."

She snapped her fingers, the sound echoing off the high ceiling.

"You're mad," he insisted.

"Am I?"

The words were on the tip of her tongue, and though she'd sworn she would never speak them aloud to a single soul, she was still so hurt. They slipped out before she could stop them.

"You slept with her!" she hissed.

"With who? Miranda? I did not."

"Don't lie to me!" she bellowed. "I had to stand there in your bedchamber, watching her strut about, wearing your robe with nothing on underneath. I had to watch her simper and purr over how you'd finally seduced her. How was it? Did you enjoy it as much as she appeared to?"

"With each remark you make, you grow more absurd."

"And how about Captain Harcourt? What is his opinion of your behavior? Or have you even confessed? The poor man probably presumed he was getting a virginal bride for his wedding."

"You actually suppose that I seduced Miranda Wilson? You actually suppose that I would deceive my brother in such an atrocious way?"

"I suppose nothing. I saw the aftermath with my own two eyes. Do you think I'm blind? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Yes. About this, I do. I didn't realize you were p.r.o.ne to flights of fancy."

"You tumble the servants who work for you! You make a habit of ruining girls like me."

"What? That's enough! I don't have to listen to-"

"Nigel told me all about it! You have a reputation as a cad, and everyone knew it but me. You even bragged to Lord Trent about our affair."

"No, no, no! I didn't! Where do you come by such bizarre information?"

"Miranda."

"Miranda?"

"I haven't even met Lord Trent, and you've done your best to destroy any relationship we might have had. Are you proud of yourself?"

The conversation was too vile, and she sagged with defeat.

"Go away," she pleaded. "Just go away."

She was next to the wall, and she spun away from him, her forehead pressed to the cool plaster. He dawdled behind her, silent, unmoving.

"We need to talk," he murmured.

"We've said enough. Please leave."

"I believe we've been tricked by people who are determined to keep us apart. I never abuse my servants, and I didn't breathe a word about us to Lord Trent."

"So you say."

"As to Miranda, I couldn't guess what insane acts were driving her, but I was devastated when you left, and I wrote you no letter. I swear it."

"I saw it!" she raged. "I read it!"

"No, no," he muttered, "there's been some mistake. I don't know how she faked my handwriting, but she did."

"It doesn't matter now. Whatever she did, it just doesn't matter."

He sighed and said, "Turn around."

"No."

"I love you, Helen. Turn around and look at me."

At the stunning declaration, her pulse raced, and she was so aggravated by her body's response. She wouldn't be enticed! She wouldn't let down her guard merely because he'd voiced a plat.i.tude that had to be false.

"Why must you beat this to death?" she demanded. "Why must you torment me with the past? It's over, and we can't change what happened."

"What if we could? What if we could change it?" He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Does it disturb you to have me here?"

"Yes, very much."

"Then you must still care for me. I need to know that there's hope, that I can fix what is wrong."

"You can't. It's too late."

"It's never too late. Not when I can have you in the end."

What was he saying? He seemed interested in having her as his mistress again, but she couldn't go back to his house, couldn't resume their prior relationship. Didn't he comprehend that nothing was the same?

Her life was greatly altered from how it had been the previous summer. She had a family now, people who cherished and supported her, so she could garner more for herself. She wanted a home of her own, wanted to marry a man who loved her, wanted to give him a dozen children. She would provide them with the sort of stable environment that had been denied her and Harriet simply because their mother had been young and foolish.

Westwood was very rich, yet he didn't have anything to offer that she truly craved. He didn't possess anything she valued.

"I can't be your mistress," she said. "Not ever again."

"My mistress! Is that what you a.s.sume I'm suggesting?"

He chuckled and spun her so she was facing him.

"I don't need a mistress."

"Then what do you need?"

"Can't you guess?"