“I could not possibly have planted those things on Kenneth Robinov! I had only just arrived at the inn.”
“But you had been before. And with your well-known pursuit of Sir Marcus Dain, I daresay you were furious to discover the Robinov woman there in full possession of your lover. You had to get rid of them somehow. Only your plan went awry when it merely drove them to announce their engagement.”
Helen stared at her, stunned. “You’re insane! No one would believe such a thing!”
“Wouldn’t they?” Phoebe smiled and sat down at her dressing table. “They already believe you tried to run away with Sir Marcus and that only Philip, in regard for his former relationship to you and your family, prevented it, even though he received a black eye for his pains. And you must remember, you, too, were at Steynings and Audley Park when the thefts occurred.”
In the dressing table glass, Phoebe’s eyes met Helen’s. The woman smiled. “Go on. Pull the bell. I shall scream and accuse you, and you’ll be arrested as well as dismissed. Face it, my dear, you have lost overwhelmingly.” She laughed. “Again.”
Blood sang in Helen’s ears. For the second time that evening, she was afraid she would faint. This was not right. And yet, she had already been dismissed by an employer whom she had thought valued, trusted, and even liked her.
“Good evening, Miss Milsom,” Phoebe said firmly with perfect confidence.
Face it, my dear, you have lost overwhelmingly. Again.
Phoebe was right.
Helen walked out of the room without troubling to close the door.
*
Sir Marcus arrived at Audley Park just after eleven the following morning. His mind made up, he simmered with determination and tension. He was a wealthy man of excellent family who had been eluding matchmaking mamas for two decades. And yet, he felt no certainty that the fiercely independent governess would accept him. She was not indifferent to him, he knew that. She liked him. He just didn’t know if she liked him enough.
Perhaps in all delicacy, he should not broach the matter until she had recovered from yesterday’s unpleasant little adventure. But he wanted the right to protect her immediately.
Rather to his surprise, he was not taken immediately to Lady Overton. Instead, he was shown into the reception room where they had once gathered to admire Philip painting an inferior copy of the scenery with Anne and the Robinovs in the foreground.
The easel and canvas were still there. By the rules he had laid down, the Marshalls should depart today. He had hoped they were gone already. Perhaps they had left the painting as a gift. He walked idly across to it.
The foreground had changed. Anne was still there, smiling. But in the place of the Robinovs, a figure who looked a little like himself, stood smiling attentively down at her.
Marcus snorted, just as quick footsteps crossed the parquet floor of the hall and entered the room. Marcus turned and bowed to Lord Overton, who nodded curtly.
“Dain. What can I do for you?”
It was not Overton’s usual amiable manner, but then, he had been putting up with unwelcome guests.
“First of all,” Marcus said briskly, “I was wondering if you had heard about yesterday’s…fracas.”
“I did,” Overton replied. “And I take leave to tell you, sir, I am no high stickler, but your conduct disappoints me in the extreme.”
Marcus blinked. “My conduct? What did Miss Milsom tell you?”
“Miss Milsom? Nothing. My wife spoke to her. I had the whole sorry tale from Marshall and his wife.”
Marcus frowned in consternation. “From Marshall? Then God knows what he told you! But before God, sir, you do not want such a man anywhere near your wife and family.”
Overton stared at him. “This from the man who seduced my governess!”
Marcus could be haughty, too. “Do you really intend to take the word of that popinjay over mine? After all the years we have known each other?”
Overton’s eyes flickered. “My wife believes Mrs. Marshall. And Miss Milsom did not, could not, defend herself.”
“Damn it, she shouldn’t need to!” Marcus exploded. “You should have defended her.”
“This from the man who abducted her in the first place!”
“What cause have I ever given you to imagine that I have either the necessity or the inclination to abduct women? It was Marshall who abducted her, and I who brought his wife to chaperone Miss Milsom.”
Overton scowled, though he looked uneasy.
“The matter is easily verified,” Marcus said curtly. “The Villins and the Robinovs saw exactly the order things happened in, so you can make your own mind up.”
Overton smoothed his hand over his thinning hair. “Damn it, why did you not come in last night and tell us this? Why run off like a guilty man?”
“Because I had no wish to continue my conflict with the Marshalls in your house! Before your family or Miss Milsom. I advised her to speak to you, but before God, I never imagined you would take the word of those people before that of the woman to whom you entrusted the care of your children!”
“Mrs. Marshall was clearly very upset,” Overton muttered. “And it’s true we have suspected some partiality between you and Miss Milsom.”
Marcus regarded him coldly. “I mean to marry Miss Milsom. If you would be so good as to send for her, we may clear this matter up properly.”
Lord Overton actually flushed. “I’m afraid I cannot do that.”
Marcus’s rage grew hot. It must have exploded out of his eyes, because Overton actually took a step backward. “You still believe those charlatans over me?”
“Damn it, of course not!” Overton exclaimed. “If you had been here, this mess would never have gone so far. The Marshalls have gone to Brighton, but I cannot summon Miss Milsom because she has left, too.”
Marcus stood perfectly still. “You dismissed her? Already?”
“The evidence seemed somewhat damning,” Overton said uneasily.
“Evidence?” Marcus paced furiously to the door. “What evidence?” At the door, he threw over his shoulder, “Where did she go?”
“To Finsborough. From there, she means to travel by stagecoach to her aunt in Norfolk. Sir, I hope this…”
Marcus said no more, for he was already striding across the hall to the front door.
Chapter Seventeen
There was an odd, semi-numb bitterness to the knowledge that Philip had ruined her life for a second time. It almost seemed right that he should have done so.
Not even Old John but one of the under-grooms had been assigned to drive her to Finsborough in the ancient, bone-shaking coach that had once taken her to the Hart. Part of her longed to go there instead, but she could not bear the idea of obliging Sir Marcus to rescue her again. In fact, she could see no way in which he could do so. Even if he reasoned successfully with the Overtons, how could she return to a family who, in the end, had trusted her so little?
So, she alighted at Finsborough, carrying her few possessions packed in her one carpetbag and went to sit on the bench in the yard to await the stagecoach to London. She barely batted an eyelid when she discovered that coach was full, and merely bought a ticket for the one o’clock mail coach instead. It was as well the Overtons had paid her until the end of the year.