“Dear God, I didn’t know.” He covered her hand with his, squeezing her fingers convulsively. “I was on my way to join him, to help you escape if you needed to.”
“I thought it best to leave immediately after he died,” she said shakily. “There are a lot of French soldiers still retreating. Our own people were restive through hunger and not above threatening us. I thought it best to bring the children out…”
“I should have been there,” he said hoarsely. “I promised Ilya I would be. I didn’t realize there would be so little time.”
“There was nothing you could have done. You know I am not incapable. And in truth, Kenneth was wonderful. Ilya would have been so proud.”
“He would,” Marcus agreed. “I look forward to getting to know his son.”
Dorothea withdrew her hand and made an obvious effort at lightheartedness. “And you, Marcus? How has your life been these last six years?”
“Mostly dull. I’ve been setting my father’s affairs and estates in order, which has left me little time for travel.”
“And still no desire to marry?”
He kept his face amiable. “I must do so one day, of course.”
“Ilya always said he would move heaven and earth to bolt across the world to wherever you decided to marry. He seemed to think it was a rare joke.”
“Ilya always had a strange sense of humor.”
“It was all fun,” Dorothea said with a hint of anxiety. “There was no one whose friendship he valued more than yours.”
*
Now that they no longer considered him a threat to their new friend, Miss Marshall, Ilya’s children relaxed into open and amiable conversation with him, recalling funny incidents that had occurred when he had visited them in Russia six years ago, when Kenneth had been only eleven and Carla twelve. Echoes of Ilya shone in their eyes and spilled out of their mouths in boisterous humor, moving Marcus almost unbearably. And yet, they were very much their own people, already independent in thought.
It was after dinner, while the young people went to help Anne unpack the meager possessions she had brought with her, that he had the chance to speak to Dorothea alone.
“I want to propose,” he said abruptly, “that in the short term at least, you consider my home as yours.”
She smiled. “You are very good, Marcus, but it wouldn’t do, you know. I never cared what people would say about me until I had children, but now I am well aware that I cannot stay there when you are not married.”
“Actually, you could. There are two options, but I won’t even ask you to consider the second at this stage. The first is that I invite a dotty old aunt of mine to live at Cotley Hall. She has been angling to do so for years. She is mostly harmless, and the house is big enough that none of us need fall over each other even when we are all there together.”
Her eyes softened. “Thank you, Marcus. You are indeed a good friend. But I could not put you out in such a way.”
“You would not put me out in the slightest. It would be my pleasure.”
She sat back, looking at him thoughtfully. But she did not answer at once, and then the young people came back in, announcing that Anne’s chamber was very small and cramped.
With little sleep the night before and most of a day’s traveling behind him, Marcus decided to retire early. He bade everyone goodnight, and even Anne smiled at him in return.
“Think about Cotley Hall,” he said to Dorothea, then went to bed.
Chapter Eight
After sleeping like the dead, Helen woke feeling heavy and unrefreshed. However, refusing to give in to such foolishness, she rose and joined the children at a cheerful breakfast, after which they repaired to the schoolroom for lessons. The boys, being on holiday from school, elected to help Eliza rather than distract her, so the morning flew by.
After luncheon, Helen decided they should go for a walk, and everyone bemoaned the absence of Spring, their sister’s lunatic pet dog who was in Lincolnshire with her, and whose company was never dull.
“Fetch your coats, then, for it’s cold out,” Helen instructed, just as a footman came in and presented her with a silver tray on which lay a card. Sir Marcus Dain’s card.
“Two ladies are with him,” the footman offered. “A Miss Marshall and a Mrs. Robinov.”
Tell them we have already gone out. The lie died unspoken. She would not shirk the consequences of her idiocy. Or his most improper behavior.
“Oh, good!” George said, already leading the way to the door.
“Show them into the drawing room, James,” Helen said hastily. “We are just coming. George, wash your face and fetch your coat while you’re there.”
George scowled, but didn’t otherwise quibble, so she could at least present three clean and much better-behaved children than yesterday to Mrs. Robinov. Moreover, since they were clearly dressed to go out, their visitors would hopefully take the hint and stay only a few minutes.
Entering the drawing room, Helen and her charges curtsied and bowed together. Helen did not look directly at Sir Marcus. In truth, she was still in turmoil over yesterday’s encounter. His anger almost proved she had been mistaken in her belief he was in pursuit of Anne. And that moment by the stairs, kissing her… That was beyond flirtation, beyond anger. Surely, he had been forcing her to recognize their mutual attraction.
Which was hardly gentlemanly, however weak at the knees it had made her. And he had drawn back almost immediately, leaving her confused and convinced she would never understand anything about men. Which was, she assured herself, a good thing.
“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Robinov said politely. “I hope we are not disturbing you. But when Marcus and Miss Marshall explained things, I realized I had been both harsh and unreasonable when I spoke to you yesterday.”
“Indeed not, ma’am,” Helen replied at once. “I was very much at fault.”
“But understandably so. I came to apologize.”
Helen regarded her doubtfully. “There is no need, but I thank you for your kindness.”
Beside her, the children stood unnaturally still, as though they sensed her tension.
Sir Marcus stirred, drawing everyone’s gaze. Even Helen wasn’t quick enough to prevent her instinctive glance. “Allow me to make the formal introductions—somewhat belatedly. Dorothea, Miss Milsom, governess to these children, the Honorable George, Eliza and Horatio, who are family connections of my godfather. And this is my old friend, Mrs. Robinov.”
Helen curtsied again. The other woman inclined her head in a friendly enough manner, but she did not offer her hand.
“Mrs. Robinov is, perhaps, the friend for whom you were going to Russia?” she asked Sir Marcus.
“Indeed, but it seems my services, being rather late, were not required.”
“And he came to the Hart to see her,” Anne interjected. “Not pursuing me!”
Helen had been angry with him for no reason. She had already begun to suspect it. But although it felt good not to have been so mistaken in him, his connection to Mrs. Robinov now bothered her.
“And Mr. Robinov?” she asked civilly.
The woman’s eyes fell. “My husband died in the war.”