Tempting the Bride - By Sherry Thomas Page 0,12

would stop her from seeing Andrew, least of all Hastings.

CHAPTER 3

Helena stumbled upon a piece of luck the next morning. Her maid Susie, hired to keep a close eye on her, resigned: A former employer’s housekeeper had died after a sudden illness, and Susie had been approached to become the new housekeeper—immediately. Helena was all too happy to let her go with extra wages and a glowing letter of character.

To her sister, Venetia, the Duchess of Lexington, with whom she was staying, Helena recommended that since Fitz and Millie had gone off on a quick holiday in the Lake District without servants attending, Venetia could ask Millie’s maid, Bridget, to be the one sitting outside Helena’s office for a few days, until a satisfactory replacement for Susie was located.

It certainly did not escape Helena’s attention that Fitz and Millie would return on Monday afternoon. Bridget would be eager to get back to her mistress, and Helena just might exploit that time gap to her advantage.

In the meantime, Helena smuggled out a set of livery from the Lexington household and contacted a company that leased carriages.

The board was set, the pieces moving. She awaited only the arrival of Monday afternoon to see whether her strategy would procure a victory on the field.

Saturday evening the Lexingtons gave a dinner at their house. As was usually the case when one of her siblings played host, Hastings was invited to the gathering. He was, however, not seated anywhere near Helena, who’d long ago requested that he never be put next to her at dinner, so as not to diminish her enjoyment.

But after dinner, once the gentlemen had finished with their port and cigars, they rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, and at such times there was no escaping Hastings. As inevitable as the day’s descent into night, he appeared at her side, sleek and smug, like a predator freshly returned from a bout of hearty slaughter.

She wondered, not for the first time, whom he’d been bedding before he arrived at the Lexington house—and exactly what he’d been doing with her.

“Miss Fitzhugh,” he murmured. “My dear, I don’t wish to impugn your toilette, but you look lonely and deprived.”

“The recommended cure for which is no doubt a few hours in your bed, my lord?”

“My dear girl of little faith, no one leaves my bed after only a few hours. Ladies clear their schedule for at least a week before they leap in.”

When he lowered it just so, his voice practically purred, uncomfortably attractive. She had to tamp down an involuntary flutter in her stomach. “What do you want, Hastings?”

He slanted a look at her. His eyes seemed to have shifted in color, a blue-grey tonight.

“I’ve found a ring for you among my mother’s jewels, my dear, an emerald ring to match your eyes.”

She arched a brow. “And since when do I take jewelry from gentlemen to whom I am not related?”

“Oh, I believe we shall be related very soon, the way you are going. I can see it in your eyes: the machination, the impatience. You are scheming hard, Miss Fitzhugh, against everyone else’s better judgment.”

He might be a bastard, but he was a clever bastard.

“I have been leaning on Mr. Monteth for news concerning his wife,” he continued. “Daily she calls on her sister, the wife of your beloved, and comes home excited and agitated. Mr. Monteth is convinced she is up to something. If I were you, I’d do nothing as long as Mrs. Monteth might be paying the slightest attention to her brother-in-law.”

But if Helena didn’t take this opportunity, when would she have another one?

“You are not listening, Miss Fitzhugh.” Hastings’s voice dropped even lower, a dark, smooth mellifluousness. “Think of wearing my ring and what that would entail. Does it not stop you cold that I may be the one to rescue you from a disaster of your own making? And remember, I already told you that I don’t want to be your husband. But if I must, out of duty, I will exact my price and make demands you’ve never even dreamed of.”

She’d read snippets of his erotic novel—she had a very good idea of the sort of degrading lewdness he’d stipulate. It vexed her that she wasn’t as revolted as she ought to be. “That I am not concerned about a possible future chained to your bedpost—shouldn’t you take it as a sign that all my scheming is but a figment of your imagination?”

“But you are concerned. Just