Too Hot For A Rake. Pearl Wolf

think Helena would be better off if she left London for a while, Mother. Do you agree?”

      “Yes, I do. If she doesn’t, the ton will make her life a misery. Have you given any thought to where you might like to go, love?”

      Helena wished she were anywhere but in this roomful of loving relatives, for their pity served only to make her spirits sink lower. Appealing visions of a dungeon without a door or a storm-tossed shack sinking into quicksand invaded her thoughts.

      She tried to hide her resentment at their well-meaning concern. “India? America? A penal colony in Australia, perhaps? I don’t really care just as long as it’s as far away from London as possible.”

      “Don’t talk such nonsense, Helena. Land’s End is far enough,” said Olivia, annoyed.

      “Or the Isle of Scilly,” said Sebastian as he entered the morning room. He stopped to chuck his son Tony under his pudgy chin. “Unfortunately, both places may well prove to be a dead bore.”

      “Oh, what difference does it make? My life is over anyway,” whined Helena between sniffs.

      “Nonsense, my girl,” put in her father. “You’re only twenty. Eligible suitors will be hounding me for your hand once the news is out.”

      “I’ll never marry,” said Helena, her voice tinged with tragedy.

      The duchess ignored this foolish remark, for her mind had been occupied with the more practical task of finding a solution. “You know, Livy, your mention of Land’s End has given me an idea. My godmother lives there.”

      Helena heaved an exasperated sigh. “I know you’re trying to help, Mother, but what has that to do with…with anything?”

      Her mother went on as if Helena hadn’t spoken. “I last saw her when I visited some twenty years ago with my dear mother, rest her soul, but we still exchange Christmas greetings. She lives alone in a castle overlooking the sea. She would no doubt welcome a visit from you.”

      “You can’t be sure she’d have me, Mother. What of the marquis? He might well object.”

      “Her only son died last year, but her grandson has just returned from his travels to assume his father’s duties,” put in Sebastian.

      “How do you know, darling?”

      Sebastian looked at his wife and shook his head slightly as a warning to her to hold her tongue. “I made his acquaintance just this morning. The home secretary introduced us.”

      “You won’t be in the way even if the new marquis is in residence, dear. It’s a very large castle. Besides, his grandmother will act as your chaperone,” persisted the duchess.

      “As you wish, Mother.” Helena showed little interest in the rest of the conversation.

      The duchess pressed on. “You’ll like it there, dearest. It’s near Sennen Cove, a charming little village where the English Channel meets St. George’s Channel.”

      Upon entering the drawing room, the duke heard this remark. “That area has a bad reputation. It’s known as a hotbed of smuggling activities.”

      “Not anymore, sir. There may be an occasional shipwreck in bad weather, but by and large, smuggling appears to have died out,” said Sebastian.

      The duke appeared to be satisfied with this answer.

      “If you crave anonymity, you couldn’t find a more suitable place to hide. No Londoner would be caught dead in such an out-of-the-way place, especially during the Season. But the decision is entirely yours,” said the duke.

      “It doesn’t matter to me where you send me, Father. One place is as good as another.”

      The duchess hastened to add, “I’ll write to the marchioness at once.”

      “Good idea, Mother.” Olivia rose to ring for the baby’s nurse. “You’ll have to give the lord of this manor to me, Father. It’s time for Tony to feed and then to nap, two of his favorite pastimes. And while he does, we can dine in peace.”

      Clinging to his grandfather, little Tony babbled in a language only he understood. “You’re welcome to the scamp, Livy. He’s had the audacity to wet my shirt.” But the duke didn’t seem to mind in the least, for he hugged the child and covered his face with kisses.

      Dinner was a somber affair, due to Helena’s lingering melancholy. Afterward, the women withdrew so that the duke and his son-in-law might enjoy their brandy.

      “What do you think of Land’s End, Sebastian? Is it a good idea to send Helena so far from her family?”

      “Assuming the dowager marchioness agrees to it, I believe it to be an ideal solution.”

      “I knew old Waverley,” the duke said. “A dour man. He held a seat in Parliament, but rarely made any speeches. He had a terrible row with his only son and the young fool ran away at an early age, I recall. Gossip had it that the lad led a wild life abroad.”

      “Wild lads grow up and often mend their ways, sir.”

      The duke chuckled. “I was a bit wild as a young whelp, too. Can’t fault a young ’un for that, can we? It’s how he behaves now that counts.”

      “I met the marquis this morning, sir,” Sebastian reminded his father-in-law.

      “What did you think of him?”

      “I liked him. He was reluctant to return to England, you know, but when he learned his grandmother was still alive, he was quick to agree. He’s ready to assume his responsibilities, he told me. ‘I’m determined to bury the past and start again. I have only myself to blame for the way I have lived since I left England, but now I crave a better life. One that will restore my reputation and make my grandmother proud of me,’ he said. His sincerity impressed me, sir.”

      The duke sipped his brandy. “Let us hope he really has outgrown his wild ways then.”

      My Lord did not take the news of Waverley’s return from exile well. After all these years! No matter. Harry Trasker will be as disappointed as I am. So much the better, for his mother’s all too eager for her son to become marquis. It may well work to my advantage. He wrote a brief note and rang for his secretary.

      “Sir?”

      “See to it that this reaches Smith and Isley today.”

      The dowager marchioness readily extended the invitation to Helena to visit and stay as long as she liked. In spite of this warm invitation, Helena drifted through her final week in London as though in a fog as thick as the one that habitually blanketed the city. She answered questions put to her with either a brief nod or a single word. Her abigail Amy saw to the packing of her clothing, but no amount of cajoling would engage her interest in the process of getting ready to embark on her journey.

      “I’ve arranged for an escort to accompany you, Helena,” said her brother-in-law at dinner the night before her departure.

      Helena acknowledged this with an indifferent nod.

      “Sebastian went through a great deal of trouble for you, Helena,” said the duke in exasperation. “You might at least show some gratitude.”

      “Thank you, Sebastian,” said Helena, her voice dull.

      “You’ll come back for my debut ball, won’t you?” pleaded Georgiana, in a vain attempt to lighten the dark mood. “Please say you will, Helena. I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t.”

      “I suppose I must, if it would please you, Georgie.”

      The duchess put an end to the funereal atmosphere when she rose and said, “Come, girls. We’ll leave the gentlemen to their brandy. Don’t be too long, you two.”

      “I’m bloody well damned if I know what to do for that ungrateful child,” exploded the duke after the women took their leave.