Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(95)

“Given enough time,” she said scornfully, “Helen could convince herself to love a plague-infested rat or a toothless leper. That doesn’t mean she should marry him.”

“I’m positive that Helen would never marry a rat,” West said.

Devon picked up a fire iron and poked at the blaze on the grate, stirring up a storm of dancing sparks. “Until now, Helen never had a chance of making any kind of match.” He sent Kathleen a hard glance over his shoulder. “What you seem unwilling to accept is that no gentleman of stature is going to choose a future of poverty with a girl he loves over wealth with a girl he merely tolerates.”

“There might be a few.” At his derisive glance, she said defensively, “There might be one. Why can’t we allow Helen a chance to find him?”

West broke in. “That would mean giving up any possibility of marrying Winterborne. And then if Helen doesn’t succeed in bringing someone up to scratch during the season, she’ll have nothing.”

“In that case, she can live with me,” Kathleen said. “I’ll find a cottage in the country, where she and I will live off the income from my jointure.”

Turning from the fireplace, Devon gave her a narrow-eyed glance. “How do I fit into your future plans?”

A hostile silence followed.

“I really don’t think I should be here,” West said to the ceiling.

“You’re able to take care of yourself,” Kathleen told Devon. “Helen can’t. She’ll have no protection against Winterborne, if he should mistreat her.”

“Of course she will. West and I will always protect her.”

“You should be protecting her now.”

West stood and strode to the door. “Is this what it’s like to have a family?” he asked irritably. “Endless arguing, and talking about feelings from dawn to dusk? When the devil can I do as I please and not have to account to a half-dozen people for it?”

“When you live alone on an island with a single palm tree and a coconut,” Kathleen snapped. “And even then, I’m sure you would find the coconut far too demanding.”

West regarded them both sourly. “I’ve had enough of this. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find a tavern where I can pay an underdressed woman to sit in my lap and look very pleased with me while I drink heavily.”

As he left, he closed the study door with unnecessary force.

Folding her arms across her chest, Kathleen glowered at Devon. “Helen will never admit what she wants. She’s spent her entire life trying not to be a bother to anyone. She’d marry the devil himself if she thought it would help the family – and she’s well aware that Eversby Priory would stand to benefit.”

“She’s not a child. She’s a woman of one-and-twenty. Perhaps you didn’t notice just now that she behaved with far more composure than you or I.” On a callous note, he added gently, “And although it might surprise you, a lifetime of living under your thumb may not appeal to her.”

Kathleen stared at him, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find words. When she was finally able to speak, her voice was thick with loathing.

“I can’t believe I ever let you touch me.”

Unable to bear being in the same room with him for another minute, she fled the study and rushed upstairs.

For more than an hour afterward, Kathleen and Helen talked intently in the small anteroom adjacent to the drawing room. To Kathleen’s dismay, Helen seemed not only willing to be courted by Rhys Winterborne, but she was actually resolved to it.

“He doesn’t want you for the right reasons,” Kathleen said in concern. “He wants a wife who will advance his ambitions. And no doubt he thinks of you as an aristocratic broodmare.”

Helen smiled slightly. “Isn’t that also how men of our class judge the value of a potential wife?”

An impatient sigh burst from her lips. “Helen, you must admit that you and he are worlds apart!”

“Yes, he and I are quite different,” Helen admitted. “That’s why I intend to proceed with caution. But I have reasons of my own for agreeing to the courtship. And while I don’t wish to explain all of them… I will tell you that I felt a moment of connection with him when he stayed at Eversby Priory.”

“While you were nursing him through the fever? Because if so, that was pity, not connection.”

“No, it happened after that.” She continued before Kathleen could offer more objections. “I know very little about him. But I would like to learn more.” Taking Kathleen’s hands, she pressed them firmly. “Please, for the time being, don’t object to the courtship. For my sake.”

Kathleen nodded reluctantly. “Very well.”

“And about Lord Trenear,” Helen dared to say, “you mustn’t blame him for trying to —”

“Helen,” she interrupted quietly, “forgive me, but I can indeed blame him – for reasons you know nothing about.”

The next morning, Devon escorted the Ravenels to the British Museum. Kathleen would have preferred West to accompany them, but he was staying at his private terrace apartment, which he had maintained even after moving to Eversby Priory.

Still outraged by Devon’s deception, and his hurtful remarks of the previous night, Kathleen avoided speaking to him any more than strictly necessary. This morning they both wielded polite words and razor-thin smiles like weapons.