“Famous?” Helen repeated warily. “I’m not sure I care for that, though to be sure it’s better than infamous.”
Julius grinned. “All will be restored,” he said cryptically.
Looking hunted, the two village boys bolted with another piece of cake crammed in either hand, remembering to thank Helen over their shoulders as they went. The Carluke children looked torn between running after them and hanging around the duchess, so Helen solved the problem by commanding them to finish their tea so that they could return home. To prove her seriousness, she did not sit back down, but picked up her cloak and the girls’ things, too.
Anne and Julius sat down with the children, but the duchess soon detached herself and drew Helen a little apart where they would not be overheard.
“Sorry to take you by surprise,” she murmured. “Perhaps I should warn you that my family is here, too. But don’t worry, none of them will be so rude as to cut you or otherwise cause trouble.”
“I don’t expect to come across them often.”
“Hmm,” the duchess said doubtfully. “But if you receive a message from my sister in the next day or so, asking to meet you, you should probably go. She will be in no danger.”
As Helen struggled to take that in, she realized the duchess was about to return to the table. “One moment, Your Grace,” she blurted, and the duchess turned back with an amiable smile. Helen drew in her breath. “Please don’t think me rude or presumptuous, but are Miss Anne Marshall’s parents among your guests?”
“Indeed, they are.”
“Forgive me, I don’t know how much you are aware of what happened in Sussex, but you should know that the elder Marshalls are not…honest. In fact, they may steal from you and abuse both your hospitality and any friendship forming between their daughter and Lord Julius.”
The duchess smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about Julius. Or us. You have to get up early in the morning to pull the wool over Alvan’s eyes. And I am well aware of what they are. Ah, the girls are ready to go, I see. I look forward to seeing you in a couple of days! Goodbye, girls, Miss Milsom.”
*
It was a curious encounter, and Helen kept going back to it in her mind, recalling the duchess’s somewhat cryptic utterances. And when the Carlukes’ maid handed her a note the following day, she was not entirely surprised.
Until she saw the childish handwriting and realized it was not from Lady Sydney as she’d expected, but from Eliza.
My dear Miss Milsom, the child had written. I hope you are well. We miss you. We are with Charlotte at Mooreton Hall. Please meet us in secret at the folly on the edge of Ingolby woods at two o’clock today. Your loving Eliza.
By coincidence, this was, in fact, Helen’s free afternoon, which was as well, for she could not have taken Sarah and Sophia to meet with anyone behind their mother’s back. In fact, it went against the grain to meet Eliza in such a way, but the duchess had more or less commanded her to. She had even declared that her sister would be quite safe during such a meeting, which made more sense now.
Accordingly, having discovered from Nurse how long it might take to walk through the woods to the border with the Duke of Alvan’s lands, she set off, following the directions Nurse had given her.
The day was cold and sharp, the sky clear blue. Normally, Helen enjoyed walking in such conditions, the frosty ground crunching under her feet, but she was too anxious to appreciate it today. Eliza was a slightly odd child, and this request to meet, surely without her parents’ knowledge, worried her.
The boundary with Alvan’s land was not marked by fencing or hedges, at least not at the edge of the woods, but by a bizarre gothic tower wrapped in ivy. Helen approached it with some trepidation, but could see no sign of anyone.
Until she walked around to the front and found that the massive wooden door stood wide open.
A small figure launched itself from inside and slammed against her. Eliza. As Helen’s arms closed around her, she saw that one reason she had no need to worry about the child’s safety was that she had brought her brothers with her. Horatio, George, and Richard all emerged, grinning. Richard held Spring on a leash, but the dog kept bouncing with excitement.
After them, even more surprisingly, came Lord Julius Moore, and finally…
Her heart lurched uncontrollably.
Sir Marcus Dain strolled out and leaned one shoulder against the door, watching the boisterous greeting with a faint smile playing on his lips. The man who had asked her to marry him. The man she had rejected. The man she loved and longed for.
But Eliza’s grip was loosening, and Helen ruffled her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t come and say good night to you. Your mama thought it best.”
“I know.” Eliza grinned. “Mama can be silly sometimes. Like about Charlotte. But I’m glad you came today! We have lots to tell you.”
“So I see.” She glanced around Eliza’s brothers. “Are you not meant to be at school?”
“Papa fell out with the headmaster,” Richard said carelessly. “To be honest, it wasn’t a very good school, but all we could afford when we came back to England.” He wrinkled his nose. “We’re to have a tutor over the spring and summer and then go to Harrow or Eton—Papa hasn’t decided yet.”
“Well, I’m very glad to see you.” She managed a curtsey directed somewhere between Marcus and Lord Julius. “My lord. Sir.” She barely flicked her gaze at Marcus, but it was enough to see that he looked very well, his harsh face glowing with health, his eyes revealing only a hint of humor.
Initial gladness to see him so well gave way to a more petulant indignation. How dare he fare so well when I am in pieces without him? It just proves I was right not to marry him.
“You must feel quite ambushed,” Lord Julius observed. “Sorry to take you by surprise, but we’ve come to recruit you into our conspiracy.”
“Conspiracy?” she asked uneasily. “You are all part of this conspiracy?”
“Not only us,” Richard replied. “Henrie and Sydney, Charlotte, Alvan, Lady Cecily, and even Lord Verne are also in on it. But we couldn’t all come without arousing suspicion.”
“In whom?” Helen demanded. “What on earth are you up to?”
“Come inside where it’s a bit warmer.” Julius turned, leading the way inside the folly.
Throughout, Marcus had not moved or spoken. As she walked past him at the door, Helen could not resist another glance. Their eyes met. And just for an instant, her heart stood still. So did the world. Then his lips quirked, and she stumbled inside.
“Some eccentric ancestress had this folly built early in the last century,” Julius explained. “They called her the mad duchess, but I think that was probably a bit unkind.” From the bare, dark chamber, he led them up a stone spiral staircase to another which was brighter, glazed, and surprisingly warm. “The sun strikes one window or another for most of the day—when there is any sun, of course—so it can get quite cozy in here.”
Surprisingly, there was even makeshift furniture—several stools, a kitchen chair, a small table, and some shelves that been nailed together and held a few dusty books. A bow stood propped up beside a pile of straight twigs, and further along the wall, a wooden sword.