“You played here as a child,” Helen guessed with a quick glance at Lord Julius.
“Not really, though I do have a very vague memory of being here with Cecily and Alex. But Cecily and I didn’t live here after our parents died, got farmed out to an aunt instead. This stuff is all Alex’s.”
“The duke’s,” Helen murmured, looking about her again. Yes, it was the secret playroom of a lonely child. She sat on one of the stools and loosened her cloak. “You had better tell me about your conspiracy.”
“Charlotte said you saw Anne,” Julius said, sitting astride the kitchen chair. “So, you know her unspeakable parents are here at Mooreton Hall.”
In spite of herself, Helen colored. “Yes, I know.”
Marcus, leaning his shoulder between two windows, spoke for the first time. “You should also know that all of us…er…conspirators are aware of the truth of what happened to you, as well as what Phoebe Marshall stole.”
“Even the children?” she asked indignantly.
“Why not? They’re quite capable of understanding. Especially that you did nothing wrong.”
Helen closed her mouth and regarded everyone afresh. “You brought them here deliberately. The Marshalls. Using Lord Julius and, no doubt, Her Grace’s art exhibition as bait.” She fixed Lord Julius with a frown. “Is that not unnecessarily unkind to Anne?”
“It might have been,” he acknowledged. “For she’s a good sort. But she’s confided to me that she loves another.”
“Ah.” Kenneth Robinov? “And you are in no danger of losing your own heart?”
Lord Julius met her gaze. “I’m nineteen years old, Miss Milsom. Not ready to be leg-shackled.”
“Anyway,” George said impatiently, “the old bat is bound to steal something from Mooreton Hall, because there are all sorts of treasures there, and we’ll leave things out for her. Meanwhile, the beautiful part of it is—we’re all watching her.”
“Especially at the ball,” Lord Julius said. “Which is where we mean to catch her so that everyone knows what she is. In the ballroom, or the salons, we will watch her. And whenever she leaves, to go her chamber or wherever she hides the loot, the children will take over. And you, Miss Milsom, if you’ll join us.”
“Of course, I will join you,” Helen said at once, and Marcus smiled at the floor. “I have always felt guilty that I did not tell Lady Overton what I’d found. Or Lady Sydney.”
“I told Henrietta,” Marcus said. “When I told her the rest of the truth.”
“And once we’ve proved what they are,” Horatio said, “no one will believe their nonsense about you and Sir Marcus, and you can come back to Audley Park.”
Helen regarded him helplessly. How did you explain to children that life was rarely as simple as that?
Richard said gloomily, “She won’t want to, Horry. The issue of trust runs both ways.”
“Besides, I would not like to let down Mr. and Mrs. Carluke,” Helen said.
“But you will definitely come to Mooreton Hall for the ball?” Eliza asked anxiously.
“Yes, I believe that is already decided. I shall endeavor not to let the Marshalls see me, darting behind pillars and half-open doors to keep my observation secret.” She frowned. “You know, a chambermaid would be a useful recruit, just to see where Mrs. Marshall hides things.”
Julius grinned. “Already got one. As many as we like, actually, with Charlotte in control.”
“The other interesting thing,” Sir Marcus said, “is that their fence—their receiver of stolen goods—will be close by.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Helen demanded.
“Because he found the rascal in London,” Julius grinned. “And persuaded him it was in his best interests to come to Lincolnshire to receive the latest. The fence pretends he has a wealthy local buyer lined up, and the Marshalls get quick money to pretend their pockets are not completely to let.”
“It will be a complicated arrest,” Helen remarked.
Sir Marcus nodded, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Yes, we’ll have to spring the fence after he…”
“Spring,” Richard said suddenly, gazing at the unconnected leash at his feet. The dog must have slipped it without anyone noticing. “Where the devil is Spring?”
The Overton children bolted for the stairs, quite used to such frequent scares from when he lived with Charlotte at Audley Park. Helen had the feeling they rather enjoyed such events, so she did not rush to help, merely followed them downstairs more slowly. Mostly, she was aware of Sir Marcus’s large figure behind her.
Emerging into the fresh air, she found the children in stitches, watching Spring try to make an angry and thoroughly bewildered cat play with him. Bouncing back and forth on his front legs, his tongue hanging out, the dog was clearly not about to give up, even when he got close enough for the cat to try to swat him. Its back was arched, its tail straight up, but Helen had the impression it had stopped growling and spitting. It had given up.
“Perhaps they could be friends in another week or so,” George said.
“Or the cat might just lose patience and maul him,” Helen said, walking forward and scooping up the surprised Spring, who immediately wriggled around to lick her face. She handed him to Richard, who grinned and restored the leash.
The cat, looking almost disappointed, strolled away.
“I should go,” Helen murmured, “or I won’t get back to Ingolby before dark.” She glanced around the children, more than a little touched that they were doing all this for her. She supposed with some awe, that the adults were, too, even if their motives might be a little more mixed. “Thank you,” she muttered. “Goodbye until Friday.”
“I’ll escort you back to the village,” Marcus said.
“There is no need,” she said at once, almost in panic.
“Of course there is,” he argued. “Our co-conspirators will drum me out if I don’t.”
Amidst the laughing goodbyes and Spring’s barks of protest, the party broke up with Helen and Marcus walking down the path to the woods and the others going in the opposite direction, chattering and arguing amongst themselves.
Helen’s heart drummed. She had no idea what to say to the man beside her, and yet his presence felt wonderful.
“How are you?” he asked quietly.
“Very well. As are you, I think?”
He nodded with a familiar hint of impatience. “Then your post with the Carlukes is a reasonable one?”
She regarded him with sudden suspicion. “Did you arrange that, too?”
“Acquit me. I only asked Henrietta Cromarty if she knew of a congenial household looking for a governess. As it turned out she did, for she had a letter from the duchess talking about her neighbor, Mrs. Carluke.”
Helen regarded him with unreasonable hostility. “You know, I am quite capable of looking after myself.” It sounded ungracious, and she knew it. “But I am grateful,” she muttered.
Inevitably, amusement pierced his veiled eyes. It struck her he had said little, betrayed nothing of his feelings during their meeting. Not for the first time, she wondered if she had hurt more than his pride by rejecting his offer of marriage. With him beside her, suddenly it was a heady thought. And a shameful one. Because she did not want to have caused him pain for the sake of her own pride. But he could not love her, could he?