Marrying Winterborne (The Ravenels #2) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,42
and Cassandra. “Perhaps you should take the dogs out to the garden?”
The twins hurried to comply, snapping for the spaniels, who bounded after them as they departed.
As soon as they were alone, Kathleen asked urgently, “Helen, why on earth is Mr. Winterborne here, and how did you know he was coming?”
Slowly Helen reached to the high neck of her dress and hooked her forefinger around a thin silk ribbon tied around her neck. The comforting weight of the moonstone ring dangled beneath her bodice, hidden in the space between her breasts. She pulled it out, tugged the ring free of its tether, and slid it onto her finger.
“I went to him,” she said simply, laying her hand lightly over Kathleen’s to display the moonstone. “Yesterday.”
Kathleen stared down at the ring in bewilderment. “You went to see Mr. Winterborne alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did he arrange it? Did he send someone for you? How—”
“He knew nothing about it. It was my idea.”
“And he gave this ring to you?”
“I asked for it.” Helen smiled wryly. “Demanded, rather.” Withdrawing her hand, she sat back in her chair. “As you know, I never liked the diamond.”
“But why—” Kathleen fell silent, staring at her in confusion.
“I want to marry Mr. Winterborne,” Helen said gently. “I know that you and Cousin Devon have my best interests at heart, and I trust your judgment. But since the engagement was broken, I haven’t had a moment’s peace. I realized that I had formed an attachment to him, and—”
“Helen, there are things you don’t know—”
“I do. Yesterday Mr. Winterborne told me that he behaved in a coarse and insulting manner to you. He regrets it very much, and he’s come here to apologize. It was a mistake born of impulse—you must believe that he didn’t mean it.”
Kathleen rubbed her eyes wearily. “I knew the moment he said it that he didn’t mean it. The problem is that Devon walked into the room and overheard enough to send him into a rage. He still hasn’t had sufficient time to view the situation in its proper perspective.”
“But you do?” Helen asked anxiously.
“I can certainly understand and forgive a few rash words. My objection to Mr. Winterborne has nothing to do with what happened that day, it’s the same as always: You and he have nothing in common. Soon you’ll be out in society, and you’ll meet a score of very nice gentlemen, cultured and educated and—”
“None of whom would have been willing to spend a minute in my company if I had no dowry. And I don’t need them for comparison: Mr. Winterborne is the man I would choose above all others.”
Kathleen was obviously struggling to understand. “Only a week ago you were in tears, telling me how he’d frightened you when he kissed you.”
“He did. But you gave me the perfect advice, as usual. You said that someday, with the right man, kissing would be wonderful. And it is.”
“He . . . you let him . . .” Kathleen’s eyes widened.
“I have no illusions about Mr. Winterborne,” Helen continued. “Or at least, not many. He’s ruthless, ambitious, and too accustomed to having his way. Perhaps he’s not always a gentleman in the formal sense of the word, but he has his own code of honor. And”—Helen felt a wondering smile tug at her lips—“he has a soft spot for me. I think I’ve become a weakness of his, and he’s a man who desperately needs a few weaknesses.”
“How much time did you spend with him yesterday?” Kathleen asked distractedly. “Were you at the store, or his house? Who saw you together?” She was already calculating how to minimize the damage to Helen’s reputation. Undoubtedly Devon’s reaction would be the same.
It was becoming clear to Helen that Rhys’s insistence on sleeping with her, although manipulative, had made perfect sense. It was the perfect weapon to cut through any number of arguments.
There was no choice now but to use it.
“Kathleen,” she said gently, “I’ve been compromised.”
“Not necessarily. There may be rumors, but—”
“I have to marry him.” Seeing her sister-in-law’s perplexed expression, Helen repeated the words with quiet emphasis. “I have to marry him.”
“Oh,” Kathleen faltered, understanding. “You and he . . .”
“Yes.”
Kathleen was silent, trying to take in the revelation. Her golden-brown eyes glimmered with concern. “My poor Helen,” she finally said. “You didn’t know what to expect. You must have been frightened. Please tell me, darling, did he coerce you, or—”
“No, it wasn’t like that,” Helen said urgently. “You must believe that I was completely