The Untamed Heiress. Julia Justiss

appearances meant. Except that Lord Darnell’s face also looked kind—not something she ever could have said about her father.

      Besides, she was free now—free. Though custom might say Lord Darnell could dictate her actions, he had no legal authority to compel her to do anything. It would take her some time to learn the passages of the house to which he was conveying her, but she was sure she could figure a way out of its confines if she had to, just as she had ferreted routes out of the stone tomb of Lambarth Castle. Unlike her miserable years at Lambarth, however, if she should need to escape, she had no doubt that Mr. Pendenning would stand her advocate.

      Besides, as the lawyer had reminded her, Mama had chosen these people to care for her. Her trust in Mama’s love and wisdom had sustained her for years. She didn’t intend to start doubting it now.

      So she had no reason to be apprehensive as she set boldly out on this new adventure—or so she tried to convince the small child inside who, though she refused to acknowledge it, hungered desperately for acceptance.

      To distract herself from her nervousness, once Lord Darnell’s curricle set off, she bent her intellect to carefully observing every detail of the London scene. After she returned monosyllabic answers to his first few comments, Lord Darnell transferred his attention back to his restive horses and let silence reign between them.

      The horses were magnificent, she noted with approval. Having learned to ride from practically the time she could walk, Helena had sometimes wandered down to the castle stables during the nights when she escaped her barred room. Mad Sally had taught her that animals could communicate with humans, if one had an eye to see and an ear to listen. Helena’s visits with these fellow wild creatures, penned up as she was and forced to do a master’s bidding, had always brought her solace.

      She would be able to buy her own horses now, she realized, the thought cheering her.

      If it became necessary for her to find her way out of London, however, escape would be more difficult. From the moment she’d caught her first glimpse of the city from atop the mail coach as it rounded the heights, she’d marveled at the sheer size and complexity of it. As Lord Darnell drove, she noted again what a twisted tangle of streets, carriages, laden wagons and scurrying pedestrians it was.

      The library at Lambarth Castle had contained atlases of the globe. Surely there were maps of this city, as well. She made a mental note to obtain one on her next excursion.

      For the trip to the Darnell town house, she’d put back on the stiff leather shoes she’d worn from Lambarth—which she intended to remove at the first opportunity and feed to the fire. And though the blue dress she now wore was softer and warmer than the rag she’d arrived in, she anticipated with great eagerness being able to enter an elegant shop like the ones they were now passing and order a whole wardrobe of shoes and gowns made to fit her alone.

      The humiliation she had forbidden herself to feel when Lord Darnell first saw her, revulsion writ clear on his face, heated her now. She’d not see him again, she vowed, until she looked presentable. Or at least as presentable as someone of her thin, bony frame and plain face could.

      Although the first purchase she made would be a comb and brush, she decided, fingering the twisted mat of hair beneath the straw bonnet. After deciding to declare his daughter “mad,” to further bolster that claim, her father had thrown her mother’s silver set off the cliffs.

      With a bittersweet smile, she remembered her disappointment the first time she’d managed to escape the castle and make her way to Mad Sally’s hovel. She’d hoped to tidy herself, but found the old woman was as much a stranger to grooming as Helena had been forced to become.

      Small wonder the villagers had stared when she stumbled into their midst a short time later.

      Undoubtedly her aunt also possessed a tub in which she could bathe, as had Mama. Oh, to feel truly clean again! Whatever the cost of having servants bring up the necessary containers of heated water, she would pay gladly.

      She was still imagining the delights of hot water and scented soap when Lord Darnell’s voice interrupted her.

      “We’re arriving now in St. James Square,” he said as he signaled his horses to a walk. “Darnell House is third from the left on the northwest side.”

      Despite her brave resolutions, Helena’s stomach dipped as she studied the brick building with its elegant inset pilasters. A moment later Lord Darnell pulled up the horses, a livried servant coming to their heads.

      After a footman helped her to alight, Helena took the arm Lord Darnell offered her and ascended the steps to the front door—which was opened before they touched the handle by yet another servant attired in formal black dress.

      “This is Harrison,” Lord Darnell said as the man bowed them in. “Without his supervision, our household would cease to function.”

      “Thank you, my lord, and welcome, Miss Lambarth. The ladies are expecting you in the south parlor.”

      While Helena marveled at the quantity of servants employed in the Darnell household, an older lady bearing a vague resemblance to Mama rushed into the hall. “Oh, Adam, I just couldn’t wait—”

      Catching sight of her, the woman stopped in mid-phrase. As her gaze traveled down Helena from the cheap straw bonnet to the stiff leather shoes, her smile faded, her cheeks paled and her eyes widened.

      “Lord in Heaven!” she exclaimed. Then she swayed, her eyes fluttering shut, and crumpled to the floor.

      It was a scene out of Helena’s worst fears: Lord Darnell leaping to catch his stepmother before she hit the marble paving, Harrison calling out for assistance, an elegant young lady who must be Lord Darnell’s sister rushing into the hallway to stop short in dismay.

      Perhaps the sister will swoon, too, Helena thought, trying to ignore the pain that lanced through her as her vague hopes of a warm reception dissolved like Lady Darnell’s welcoming smile.

      Crossing her arms over her bosom, Helena looked at Adam, staggering under the burden of his semiconscious stepmother, and raised her eyebrows. “Are you still sure you wish to offer me a home, Lord Darnell?”

      CHAPTER FIVE

      THE YOUNG LADY, WHO HAD pale blond curls and her brother’s warm green eyes, turned to her. “Of course he does! I’m Charis, Lord Darnell’s sister. Let me escort you out of this confusion while Adam attends to Bellemere.”

      There was no mistaking the sincerity of the girl’s tone. Prepared to offer a waspish reply, Helena was left with nothing to say. A gratitude she didn’t want to feel warmed her chest and angrily she blinked back tears.

      Promising herself she would exit this dwelling as soon as possible and make her way back to Mr. Pendenning’s office, Helena let the girl escort her into the parlor.

      “Please, will you not sit? Though I shouldn’t wonder at your wishing to bolt for the door, thinking you’d arrived at a house out of bedlam!”

      There seeming nothing else to do; Helena took a chair.

      “Let me apologize for so appalling a welcome,” Miss Darnell continued as she seated herself. “Lady Darnell has the sweetest of temperaments, but a very nervous disposition that sometimes overwhelms her—and she has been beside herself all afternoon with impatience for your arrival. Pray, do pardon her! When she recovers, she will be mortified at having made such a scene.”

      Not sure what she should answer, Helena simply nodded.

      “Should you like some tea? We didn’t know whether you would be hungry when you arrived.”

      “Mr. Pendenning gave me refreshments at his office.”

      “Are you tired, then? Adam said you had a very long journey—from Cornwall, was it? Oh, but here I am, chattering on when you must be wishing only to rest until dinner. Shall we go upstairs, then?”

      Not sure she could bear an interview with the “recovered” Lady