Chapter 28
GIDEON
After a little while they retrieved Ruby from the farmer and made their way back to the carriage. Gideon watched Helena as she cradled the small pig, not appearing to mind in the slightest that her gown was being thoroughly ruined.
“Lavinia will love her,” he said.
“She will,” Helena agreed.
He looked at her. “Helena. I know that we have an arrangement. But I want you to know — this is exactly what I had imagined our marriage might be. If there could not be love or romance, then this is what I wanted. The two of us going on adventures together. Enjoying one another’s company as we did in London.
I will do my very best to be a good husband to you. ”
“And I will be a good wife,” she said.
“I will not,” he added, “be finding myself a carte blanche. I have no interest in it — whatever you may say on the matter.”
“Good,” she said. And that, too, was a change. She had always been the one to raise the subject, always pushing him toward it as though reminding him of an escape route. Not today.
“I would still like to know what truly happened to make you so uneasy at times,” he said. “But in your own time. When you are ready.”
“I appreciate that,” she said.
And then, to his utter surprise, she reached out and placed her hand on top of his. He curled his fingers around it and they sat together in that way — her right arm cradling Ruby, her left hand in his right — all the way back to the estate.
He did not dare remark upon it. He did not wish to make her feel self-conscious, not when she was finally opening up to him.
He helped her down from the carriage, and they went to the stable to hand Ruby off to the stable master, who received this news with the expression that made it clear he was utterly shocked but did not wish to show it.
“She will also be in the house,” Helena said. “Sometimes. When she is very young she will need comfort.”
“She will?” Gideon said, before he had quite managed to calculate this into the arrangement.
“Of course. We shall have to speak to Mrs. Strom.” He grinned. “She will be most put out. But she will accommodate it, naturally.”
They left Ruby temporarily in the stable and made their way back to the house.
The entire walk she kept her hand on his arm, which he had offered once more.
They came through the front door and stood for a moment in the entrance hall when a commotion at the far end drew their attention — two footmen coming around the corner carrying the great portrait of his great-grandfather, ready to be hung in its new place of honour.
“The first step in our renovations,” she said, looking up at it.
“Before long the whole house will be exactly as we want it,” he said. “A real home.”
“A real home,” she agreed.
“The new painting to replace the tapestry has arrived as well, Your Grace,” one of the footmen said.
He glanced at her. “Shall we go and look?”
“Yes,” she said. “I am curious to see what you have chosen.”
They walked through to the portrait gallery together, where the new painting was leaning against the wall, still partially covered. He moved forward and lifted the covering away, watching her face.
She blinked. Then broke into a wide, unguarded smile.
“Daisies,” she said.
“A local artist in the village made it. Remarkably talented you fellow. I told him what I wanted and he painted it in a matter of days.”
She went forward and stood before it — a field of daisies, rendered in careful, sunny detail. “He must have worked with great haste.”
“I paid him handsomely. He deserved every penny.”
She turned to him, and there was something in her eyes that he had not seen for some time — something open and warm and unguarded.
To his considerable astonishment, she raised her hand and placed it against his cheek.
He did not stop himself. He covered her hand with his own and leaned his forehead down toward hers, and his lips grazed hers, only just, only for a moment, before Heathcliff’s heavy footfall announced itself in the corridor.
He knew that particular tread anywhere. The man was tall and not in the least delicate, and his footsteps gave ample warning.
He drew back slightly. “We are about to be interrupted.”
“I rather think so,” she said, and took a small step back.
The knock came almost immediately.
“Come,” Gideon called.
Heathcliff entered. “A caller, Your Grace — for the Duchess.”
Helena looked up, surprise evident on her face. “A caller? For me?”
“Shall I come with you?” Gideon asked but she shook her head.
“No, there is no need. It will be the vicar’s wife. She said she would come. Or perhaps it is Mrs. Baker, come to tell me I have won the contest, so I can then tell you in a moment of triumph.”
Gideon let out a laugh and watched her walk away, the smile remaining on his lips.