Ash ate a few grapes after she turned away, depositing the seeds on a clean dish she’d left for the purpose.

“I’ll not marry any of those ladies, Helena,” he said quietly. His voice sounded almost normal, without the scratch of the last two days.

Helena continued to fuss about the table. “We’ll talk of that when you’re well.”

“It is unfair to the young ladies. From the looks I caught, everyone at that ball believed I’d hosted it to search for my next duchess.”

Helena faced him, resting her hands on the table behind her. “Because everyone knows you need a wife. Including your children, which was why they went to such lengths to compose that letter to you.”

“Lewis’s doing.” Ash couldn’t help a surge of pride. “He is growing up faster than I realize.”

“That is why this time with them is so precious. Lewis will go to school soon, and find his own friends, his own interests. Gracious, my husband barely knew his father and mother, only seeing them from afar until he was quite grown up.”

Helena rarely spoke of her husband, a good-for-nothing fop. If Courtland hadn’t managed to break his neck, he’d have broken her heart with mistresses, gambling debts, and duels.

“He was never good enough for you,” Ash heard himself say.

She stilled. “Pardon?”

“I know I should not speak ill of the dead, but your husband was not a good match for you. You need someone who will listen when you rattle on, who will match you in wits and sense.” And passion, he added silently. He’d sensed much of it in her when he’d kissed her.

Helena moved her gaze to the window, sunlight catching in her dark eyes. “Many felt he was the perfect match for my wit—as in, between the two of us, we had little.”

Ash grew indignant. “They were wrong. You can certainly talk, but you aren’t a featherhead. You have much good sense, which you disguise by hedging around it. You hide your intelligence, though I cannot fathom why.”

“No one wants a clever lady,” Helena said. “Quite irritating, is a woman who claims to be intelligent.”

“Well, it does not irritate me.”

The smile she gave him lit fires in his heart. “How kind of you. But I’ve always said you were kind.”

Kind? The formidable Duke of Ashford, who demanded perfection of the entire world, was kind?

He wasn’t. He knew full well that Merrivale had suggested Ash retreat to Somerset because he was making everyone in the ministry spare with his meticulousness. His expectations were high, his disapproval swift.

“Very good of you to say so,” Ash said stiffly.

“You do not believe me, I see, but it is true. You adore your children and take every sort of care for them. Your servants are well treated and paid a good wage. You indulge your friend, Mr. Lovell, though he is as unlike you as another gentleman can be. And you’ve allowed me to come and nurse you without bodily showing me the door.”

“I couldn’t at the moment if I wanted to.” Ash cleared his throat. “I’m pathetically weak.”

“Indeed, no. Laid up, yes, but weak, never. You are the strongest man I know.”

They shared another look, Helena’s deep brown eyes lightened with flecks of gold. If Ash had been well, he’d have already pulled her into the bed with him to kiss her, drowning in her softness. Perhaps boldly rolling her over to the mattress and showing her what he’d dreamed of in the night.

If he’d been a well man, however, she would not be in his bedchamber at all. She’d only entered because at this instant, he was harmless.

Helena returned to him and smoothed the covers once more. Ash liked the warmth of her hands through the sheets, comforting and arousing at the same time.

She patted his arm, unaware of the incandescence she stirred within him. “Now then, you take four of these draughts a day—morning, afternoon, evening, and before you sleep—and that nasty chill will be gone in no time. I’ll tell Edwards.”

Ash suppressed a shudder. Edwards, who had a soft spot for Helena, would obey her instructions to the letter. Then again, the concoctions weren’t so bad. They were sweet yet with underlying vigor, like Helena herself.

“Sleep now, dear Ash.” Helena pressed a kiss to his forehead, her lips cool on his hot skin.

“Are you returning home?” Ash asked, trying to make the question casual. “At least, to the cottage of your friend?”

“Do you wish me to?” Helena also pretended nonchalance, but Ash caught the trepidation in her voice.

“No.” Ash realized the word was brusque, and softened his tone. “No. The children would love to see you.”

Her answering smile held relief. “Then I’ll stay. Give me a shout if you need me.”

She held his gaze a moment longer, then turned away, straightened the bottles on the table one last time, and breezed out.

Ash imagined himself, well and strong once more, standing on the landing of the great hall and calling her name. Helena! Darling. I need you. Her answering voice, as natural as breathing. I’ll be there directly, dear Ash.

The picture was so heady he closed his eyes tightly to shut it out.

HELENA REMAINED at Middlebrook Castle for two days, at Lady Florence’s insistence. So good for the children to have her about, Florence said. Helena agreed and promised to stay until Ash grew better.

He healed in a remarkably short time. Ash spent only one more day in bed. The next, he was up and bellowing for Edwards to help him dress. He remained in indoor clothes—light suit covered with a banyan and slippers, and shut himself into his library.

Edwards assured Helena that Ash was taking the remedies as instructed, which the valet believed led to his quick recovery.

Ash ordered that Lewis, Evie, and Lily be kept from him until the danger of contagion had passed. The children were not happy about that, but Helena kept them busy writing Ash letters expressing good wishes for his health.

Lily showed Helena her finished letter, executed in stilted handwriting.

Dearest Papa, Please grow well so you can read to us again, and do not leave the exciting bits out anymore. I am old enough for them now. The very best wishes and tender feelings from your dearest Lily.

“If you married Papa, he’d never be ill,” Lily declared after Helena had praised the letter.

Helena gave her a startled look. “Gracious, I do not believe your papa would be happy with that idea.”

“Why not?” Evie put in. “The only lady he ever speaks of is you. And you fit all our requirements. First of all, you are tall.”

“Perhaps.” Helena could not find the words to argue with her and tried to turn them to other activities.

Lewis, a bit older than his sisters, said nothing, but he looked morose. His scheme for getting his father married off was failing, and he knew it.

The next morning, Helena told herself it was high time to leave. Ash had dressed to go out riding, hale once more, his schedule resumed.

Helena could not stay without causing scandal—any more than she already had by rushing to his bedside the moment she’d heard he was ill. Thank heavens she had the reputation for being a busybody and pushing her remedies on all and sundry. No one believed her to be a scheming seductress—which was a bit insulting when she thought about it.

Ash politely saw her out to Millicent’s waiting carriage, and began to hand her up into it. Helena felt his strong fingers on hers, looked down into his gray eyes, and knew she did not want to leave.

She longed to stay in his house, have him return after riding his lands and tell her all about what he’d done that day. They’d sit by the fire while he sipped brandy and she did his mending.

Helena wanted this so much she put on a frozen smile. “Good day, Your Grace,” she said, the words stilted. “I will have your aunt call on me at Millicent’s to continue discussing your potential nuptials.”

Ash stiffened, his grip tightening. “I remember telling you to give up the idea.”

“Indeed, no. I made a promise to Lewis, and I never go back on my word.”

Ash’s eyes blazed with sudden fury—his vigor had certainly returned. He pushed Helena up into the carriage, and to her amazement climbed in with her, slamming the door and ordering the driver to start.




CHAPTER 6




ASH WAS QUITE elegant in his greatcoat, riding togs, and tall hat, Helena thought as she faced him across the small space of the carriage. He skimmed off the hat and slammed it to the seat beside him, his hair pleasantly mussed. No longer unshaven and flushed with fever, he looked most civilized, yet robust.

He was handsome either way, Helena reflected, even when he had a drippy nose.

The nose today was perfectly dry and no longer red, his eyes glittering over it.

“I will speak to Lewis,” Ash said. “You must drop this nonsense.”

Yes, he was feeling much better. “You are going to upset your children, are you?” Helena asked, more abruptly than she meant to. “Tell them they must adhere to your plans without any regard to their feelings? I’ve been acquainted with you for years, Ash. You used to be far more carefree—you laughed, you danced, you played with your children. Now you are out of temper if you don’t walk a rigidly straight line down the road or if Edwards is thirty seconds late with your coffee. I wager even your sickness fled according to your schedule.”

“For heaven’s sake, woman, I was ill. I had no control over it.”

“The heart of the matter, I believe,” Helena said, trying to look wise. “You are so very angry if you do not control every person and event around you. All must behave as you wish, when you wish them to.”

“You exaggerate,” Ash answered tightly.

“Do I? You were severely polite to your guests at the ball, tried to hide in the card room, and fled into the garden at your first chance. I imagine no one was dancing evenly enough for you. Or was it because you tripped over your feet during our dance? Embarrassed that the perfect duke was the slightest bit imperfect?”

“You know nothing at all.” Ash’s rumble filled the coach. “Damn and blast you, I know why you hurried to my home when you heard I was ill—so you could control me. I could scarcely fight you when I was flat on my back, too weak to move. You dosed me so we could race back to this absurd scheme of getting me married.”

“Good gracious, your bellowing might convince me to give up the matter. I feel sorry for your bride already.”

“Excellent, then we will hear no more about it.”

The carriage bumped out through the gate and turned down the lane to Millicent’s cottage.

“If it were up to me, I would drop the question,” Helena said. “But the idea is Lewis’s, with his sisters behind him. The choice is not mine to make.”

“That is rubbish—Lewis is a child.”

“He is your child. Have you thought it through, Ash? Why they want you to remarry? Given it deep and careful thought as you seem to do problems in the government? Or did you simply dismiss your son out of hand? Let us recall Lewis’s points, shall we? Several indicate that you lose your temper—throwing your shirts at Edwards, objecting when the children are too loud and not always punctual, and adhering to timetables too much. Lewis paints an excellent portrait of you.”

“Because he is young,” Ash growled. “He does not comprehend—” He broke off, his face reddening.