“What a good idea.”
He bent and softly kissed her lips. “Until tomorrow.”
“Until tomorrow,” she whispered back. It sounded like a promise.
They walked sedately downstairs where Mrs. Robinov and Philip waited.
“Goodbye, my dear,” Mrs. Robinov said, taking both her hands. “Thank you for everything. You have been invaluable, in fact, quite wonderful these last two days, and I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“You would have managed admirably,” Helen assured her. “But I thank you for your kindness.”
Mrs. Robinov grabbed a letter from the table at the door and gave it to Helen. “For Lady Overton, expressing my gratitude for lending you to us. Now, off you go before I cry.”
Helen laughed. “Goodbye, ma’am. But I hope to see you again before too long.”
Reluctantly, Marcus gave up her bag to Philip, who conducted her outside to the waiting carriage and handed her in.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, finding it otherwise empty. “Where is Mrs. Marshall?”
“Just coming,” he assured her, and in truth, it was some comfort that he stayed on the ground with the door open, waiting for his wife.
Both Phoebe and Anne Marshall hurried out of the house and into the carriage. They sat opposite Helen, facing the horses. Philip leaped in after them, closing the door, and the carriage set off.
Anne smiled at Helen.
“I didn’t know you were coming back to Audley Park with us,” Helen said, rather glad of the company.
“Oh, I’m not,” Anne said.
“She’s coming with me to Finsborough,” Mrs. Marshall explained. “Since she is in need of a few things. We’ll alight in town, and you may go on to Audley Park without us.”
“Oh, no,” Helen blurted. “That is, I don’t mind waiting for you.”
“I do,” Philip said. “Dashed boring hanging around while they argue over fripperies.”
“I am happy to look at fripperies,” Helen assured Mrs. Marshall with fading hope.
Anne looked delighted at this idea, though her mother’s eyes were cold.
“That will not be necessary,” Phoebe said with disdain.
There was little Helen could do, short of throwing herself out of the carriage after them at Finsborough. But since she had no real fear of Philip and hoped, in fact, that he wished to apologize to her, she did nothing so dramatic.
Traveling in a closed carriage alone with a man not of one’s family was not considered respectable for an unmarried female. However, they were unlikely to be seen by anyone except the Overtons who would surely regard her age and position as quite different to that of a young girl.
For the first half-hour after his wife and daughter left them, Philip made small talk, largely about art and his own painting experiences and ambitions. Very little was required of Helen except making occasional expressions of encouragement and congratulations—until she realized they were back on the coast road.
“We’ve missed the turning to Audley Park,” she said in dismay. “I would have thought your coachman would remember the way by now. You had better tell him to turn and go back.”
“There is no need,” Philip said with inexplicable calm. “We are not going to Audley Park but to Brighton.”
“Brighton?” she exclaimed. “I cannot go to Brighton!”
“Of course, you can. I have a little house there I want to show you. It is most pleasant and discreet, and I’m sure you will come to regard it as home very quickly. You shall have everything of the best, everything you want.”
Dear God, he had heard nothing she’d said to him at the inn. He was still pursuing this insanity, even having just bidden a cheery farewell to his wife and daughter.
“What in God’s name is the matter with you?” she raged, jumping up to knock as hard as she could on the carriage ceiling.
“Nothing,” he answered complacently. “And you might as well sit down again. There is no point in knocking. He is under instruction not to stop before Brighton unless I tell him to.”
“Then tell him this instant,” she insisted. “Do you not see that you will ruin me with this folly?”
“Ruin you for governessing,” he said with distaste. “You were never meant to be a mere servant.”
She stared at him. “You believe I was meant to be your mistress? I am a gentleman’s daughter, sir, not some poor creature you picked up from the opera house or off the street. You will accord me the respect I deserve and take me to Audley Park immediately. If you do,” she added with fresh inspiration. “I will say nothing to your wife.”
To her astonishment, Philip laughed. She wondered if he was actually insane.
“I told you, Phoebe does not care,” he said with just a trace of bitterness. “But in this case, our desires accord. She believes with you out of the way, Dain will look again at Anne.”
“Dain never looked at Anne!”
He regarded her, frowning. “I hope the fellow hasn’t been annoying you.”
“Annoying me?” She shook her head. “No. You are annoying me. If you will not give me the respect I deserve, then at least respect your wife and daughter.”
“Phoebe does not notice such things. In fact, she is a little…unbalanced.”
Helen searched his face. “In what way?” she asked with fresh dread.
He shrugged impatiently. “She told me to abduct you, even roped Anne into accompanying her to Finsborough so that it does not seem odd of her. She is amazingly single-minded”
At that, quite suddenly, everything fell into place. “It was Phoebe, wasn’t it?” she said. “She stole those things from Steynings and from Audley Park and planted them in Kenneth’s trunk to incriminate him. Just to be rid of the Robinovs because she imagined it would clear Anne’s path to Sir Marcus. It would be funny if it were not so wrong!”
“You are right, of course. In some ways, she is quite mad. So, you see what I have to live with? A managing, almost insane woman who denies me her bed and spends money like water, so that without Sir Marcus’s generosity we are undone. You must take pity on me, Helen, comfort me, care for me, be the companion to me we always dreamed of.”
He lunged, trying to wrap his arms around her. Without thought, she stamped hard on his toe and slapped his face.
“Ouch!” he howled, reaching instead for both stinging parts of his body.
Helen used the opportunity to throw herself onto the opposite bench and drag the hatpin from her bonnet. “Do not,” she said intensely, holding it before her like a dagger, “come near me again.”
He looked genuinely shocked. “Helen!”
“I do not take pity on you,” she uttered, hoping her voice did not shake. “You chose her. Be a man, live with her and help her rather than giving in to her outrageous behavior. As for any dreams of sharing companionship with you, mine died ten years ago and I am heartily glad of it. They could not revive if you were the only man left on this earth.”
His mouth opened and closed like a fish’s.
“Now that we understand each other,” Helen pronounced, “you had better instruct your coachman to return to Audley Park.”