Page 2 of The Duke’s Lance (The Duke’s Guard #12)
H elen Langley glanced around where she and Emily stood, halfway between the kitchen and the rear entrance to the building. They were alone. Worry that her mistress would think she was abandoning her, Helen rasped, “You don’t understand, Miss Emily. I feel useless here after serving you for so long. Your father, Lord Montrose, was the best of men—he changed my life when he hired me on to work as your companion and lady’s maid.”
Emily smiled. “Neither one of us knew just what that entailed at the time, did we?” When Helen shook her head, Emily frowned. “And you’re still calling me miss even though I have asked you not to.”
“Forgive me. Mrs. Garahan.”
Emily’s bright laughter soothed the worry that had been so hard for Helen to hide.
“While I do count my blessings, having married Aiden Garahan, I would ask that you please call me by my first name.”
Helen wrinkled her nose. “Very well, but only in private.” She sighed, knowing she had to at least try to explain. “I feel so insignificant here in the presence of the Duke and Duchess of Wyndmere.”
“Hasn’t Her Grace made you feel welcome?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“And hasn’t His Grace done the same?”
Helen wished she dared to tell Emily what was really on her mind. After their perilous journey from Montrose House in London to the duke’s estate in the Lake District, her friend had blossomed overnight, after receiving the duke’s blessing to wed one of his trusted guard. They had married by special license and were gifted one of the cottages the duke had built just for the men in his guard who married. Not that she were jealous, but Helen admitted that she felt a smidge of envy. Would she ever find someone to love who would love her back?
“Yes, of course. His Grace has been magnanimous.”
“There, you see?” Emily said. “You are very much appreciated by Their Graces and welcomed by the rest of the staff. As I have been.”
Helen had to admit that she had been.
Emily continued, “You seem so happy, watching the twins in the nursery.”
“They are such dear little ones. They have taken a liking to me,” Helen admitted. “It is fortunate that the twins do not seem to mind that their nanny Gwendolyn O’Malley, Patrick’s wife, brings their two-month-old darling Deidre, to the nursery with her.”
“Richard and Abigail are such darling children and seem quite taken with Deidre,” Emily agreed. Until she had started to help out in the nursery too, Helen had not realized that deep down, she longed to marry and have a family of her own.
Emily reached for Helen’s hand and squeezed it. “I may not have said it enough, but you have always been more than a companion or maid. You’ve been my friend.” Releasing Helen’s hand, she frowned at her and said, “Which is why I’ll ask you again, why are you leaving me? What will I do without you?”
“You don’t need me any longer. You no longer live at Montrose House. You have a cozy cottage that is just the right size for you, Aiden, and any little ones that come along.” When Emily flushed, Helen continued, “You are newly married and should be spending the time getting to know your husband and becoming accustomed to your new circumstances as his wife, and as a member of Their Graces staff.”
“You are a valued member, too,” Emily reminded her.
Helen hesitated a moment, then confided, “I’m so grateful Her Grace offered the position assisting Mrs. O’Malley in the nursery, but I feel like I don’t belong here. Everyone seems to know their place and is comfortable with it. I feel as if I’m extra baggage… A burden.”
“You are not a burden!” Emily insisted. “Her Grace would not have hired you if she did not feel you would be an asset to her staff. Have you noticed that everyone who works for Their Graces are happy? Constance confided that it is because they are treated as more than staff… They’re treated as if they are family.”
“But I’m—”
“Being unreasonable,” Emily said. “Can you not see that?”
Helen did not feel that she wasn’t being unreasonable, so she said the one thing that always had Emily changing the subject. “You are being stubborn again.”
Emily’s mouth gaped open for a heartbeat, then she slowly closed it. Finally, she replied, “You are right. I’m being stubborn because I don’t want to lose you. Can you not understand? You have been my closest friend and confidante for years, and it would devastate me to lose you.”
Helen absorbed the words, and knew Emily spoke from her heart. But she had to make her see reason and understand. “I do not want to get in the way of you and your handsome husband while you are building your life together. And before you contradict me, think about it. You and Aiden deserve to be happy. I need to find my place now that you’ve found yours.”
She wasn’t sure where she belonged, but she knew it wasn’t as a third wheel in Emily and Aiden’s life. Helen had put off telling Emily about the position as a companion she had applied for and was waiting for a response. Best just to tell her.
“I’m expecting a reply any day.”
“Reply for what?” Emily asked.
“A position as companion in the Borderlands.”
“You’re leaving the Lake District?”
“If the dowager agrees to meet with me, and hire me, yes.”
“What if I put my foot down?”
Helen shook her head. “You’re being stubborn again.”
“I need particulars. After what we’ve been through these last few weeks, I cannot just let you go off on your own. What if you run into another man such as Baron Hardwell? Are you prepared to fight him off, like you fought Hardwell to save me?”
Heart aching at the thought of losing their friendship, Helen said what Emily needed to hear: “If I have to, yes.”
“Aiden and Masterson won’t be there to break down the door and rescue you,” Emily reminded her.
“I know, but I need to do this for me.”
“What if there was another way?”
“Such as?” Helen asked.
“Well…” Emily seemed to be desperately trying to think of something to convince her to stay. “What if you were to marry?”
It was Helen’s turn to gape. “I haven’t been here long enough to meet an eligible man to marry. And beyond that, who in the world would marry me, just to ensure that I stayed on at Wyndmere Hall?”
“That would be me, lass,” a deep voice rumbled from behind her.
*
Helen spun around, hand to her ample breast, and rasped, “Eamon?”
“I’m pleased that ye remembered which O’Malley ye’re talking to.”
Her face lost every ounce of color, yet she managed to ask, “Why would you marry me?”
He took a step closer and stared into her upturned face. “Are ye wanting a list of reasons, or just the most obvious one?” Her eyes welled with tears, and his gut clenched. “I did not mean to make ye cry, lass. Forgive me.” He pulled the handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and gently dried her tears. “Don’t cry. If I tell ye all the reasons, will ye stop crying?”
The lass didn’t answer—truth be told, she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Knowing he needed to say his piece and not feck it up, O’Malley pressed the now-damp handkerchief into her hand and took hold of the other. With a tug, she landed against his chest, and he slipped an arm around her. “With yer ebony hair and violet eyes, ye bewitched me from the moment ye stepped down from the carriage. Yer beauty takes me breath away.”
Instead of melting against him, as any one of the fair lasses he’d wooed before he was hired on to work for the duke would have, she stiffened. Wondering what had caused the reaction, he slipped his other arm around her, fitting her generous curves to the hard planes of his body.
By God, she fit as if she were made just for him!
A soft voice from behind him asked, “Are there any other reasons?”
He belatedly realized he was making a fool out of himself in front of his cousin’s wife, and nodded. “Aye, Emily, if ye wouldn’t mind giving us a few moments of privacy, I’ll be telling the lass meself.”
“I do not think that would be wise.”
Surprised that Aiden’s wife would not do as he asked, he turned to stare at her. “I asked ye nicely.”
“And I answered nicely. If you do not have a care for Helen’s reputation, I do.” Hands on her hips, Emily frowned at him. “You need to let her go. If anyone were to find you standing here holding Helen, there would be plenty of talk. You do not want her to be the brunt of innuendo or speculation from those on the staff and in the village, do you?”
“Of course not.” O’Malley’s heart was torn. He didn’t want to let go of the lass, who felt as if she were a piece of the puzzle that had been missing in his life. He didn’t want to cause her to suffer because his heart had overruled his head just now when he took the lovely lass in his arms.
“Ye know I wouldn’t want that. I’m after protecting Helen, not harming her.”
“Are those the only reasons you want to marry me?” Helen asked. “Because of the way I look and to protect me?”
At a loss as to how to answer, O’Malley asked, “Aren’t those reason enough?” The lone tear streaking across her cheek tore at his heart. “What other reason does a man need?” Helen struggled against his hold, and he released her. “Are ye refusing me offer?”
“Are you going to ask me?”
His head began to throb. “Ask ye what?”
Helen put her hands on her well-rounded hips. His hands still tingled from having a hold of her womanly curves. “If you do not know, I’m certainly not going to tell you.” She whirled around and hurried toward the servants’ staircase at the end of the hallway by the rear entrance.
O’Malley scrubbed a hand over his face and blew out a breath. “What just happened?”
Emily’s lips twitched, as if she were trying not to smile. “You didn’t ask Helen to marry you.”
“For the love of God! Of course I did, and she turned her back on me.”
Emily sighed. “Are all of the men in the duke’s guard as stubborn as you and Aiden?” When he stared at her, she shook her head. “Your exact words—in answer to her question as to who would marry her to keep her at Wyndmere Hall—were ‘That would be me, lass.’ You did not mention her name or ask her to marry you.”
“Bloody fecking hell.”
“I’ve heard that expression before, and it is not what Helen needs to hear right now either. If you really, truly want to marry her, the first thing you need to do is apologize. The second thing you should do is ask her, properly, to marry you. And the third thing—”
“Three things?” O’Malley could not believe the conversation he was having. Was Aiden’s wife as daft as her former maid? And why couldn’t Helen stay on as nursery help or maid to the duchess? Everything had seemed to be going along fine until just now. Damn and blast, he’d thought he would have plenty of time to woo the lass, make her aware of him and his feelings for her.
“Yes, Eamon. Three things,” Emily said. “She needs to know the other reasons you want to marry her. Beauty fades over time. Isn’t there anything else about her that would have you wanting to marry her?”
“Aye, but ye wouldn’t approve of that reason either.”
Emily frowned. “I see. She has applied for a position as a companion in the Borderlands and expects to hear any day now. As much as I wish she would remain here, I cannot stop her from trying to make a life for herself somewhere else. Now that I am married, and no longer in need of a maid, she feels she is free to entertain the idea of finding a husband herself.”
Gutted at the very idea, but loath to admit it, he watched Emily rush after Helen, closing the door to the servants’ staircase with more force than necessary. Raking a hand through his hair, he grumbled, “What in the hell is wrong with women?”
Flaherty entered the building in time to hear the question, snicker, and reply, “Where do ye want me to start?”
O’Malley turned around and muttered, “They’re put on this earth to drive us mad.”
“I won’t be arguing that point with ye.” Flaherty stared at him and shook his head. “Ye aren’t after joining the rest of them, are ye?”
“The rest of who?”
“The eleven eedjits —yer three brothers, and our eight cousins—who have all fallen for a pretty face and gotten leg shackled.”
O’Malley’s heart ached. Had he bungled his chance? A chance he hadn’t been anywhere near ready for. Was it to be his only opportunity to ask the lass to marry him? He struggled to speak past the tautness in his throat. “She said no.”
Flaherty swore beneath his breath. “Ye’re late for yer shift guarding the perimeter.” He shoved past O’Malley and stepped over the threshold, back outside, slamming the door on his way out.
For once in his life, O’Malley was at a loss for words. That almost never happened. Drawing in a breath, he held it in for a moment, then exhaled. “Maybe me head will clear once I’m outside.”
“If it’s a woman that’s weighin’ heavy on yer mind,” a familiar voice said, “I doubt it. Ye’re late, Eamon.”
Patrick O’Malley . Just what he needed, his eldest cousin—the head of the duke’s guard—tracking him down to remind him he was late for his shift. “I’m surrounded by experts.”
“About being on time, aye,” Patrick agreed. “About what’s in a woman’s mind, I couldn’t begin to speculate. Unless I’m kissin’ the breath out of me wife.”
O’Malley snorted with laughter. “That’s where I went wrong. I had the lass in me arms and didn’t kiss her.”
Patrick clapped a hand on Eamon’s shoulder. “One kiss—if it’s the right woman—and ye’ll be losin’ sleep until ye can convince the lass to marry ye.”
“Is that what happened with Gwendolyn?”
Patrick nodded. “Aye. After that first kiss, I knew I’d never get her out of me system. I needed her in me life. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
O’Malley nodded. He had to speak to Helen again, make her understand what he was thinking and what he felt for her…it was so much more than being captivated by her beauty and curvaceous form. Never mind the fact that his head had been in a spin since that first moment he saw her. Forget how quickly he’d fallen under her spell. None of that would matter if she left Wyndmere Hall, never to return.
He was on a mission. A mission he could not fail. His heart, and their future, hung in the balance.