silence that was even more tense than it had been before their meeting with the Hetheringtons. William Mainwaring broke it.
'I understand that you are angry with me,' he said curtly. 'I know that you have taken me in disgust for several reasons. I can excuse you for not speaking or behaving as most young ladies would when out driving with a gentleman. But I wish you would reserve that behavior for me. I do not take kindly to your treating my friends in an ill-mannered way. They have done nothing to offend you, Nell. On the contrary, they always go out of their way to make other people feel comfortable in their presence.'
Helen did not immediately reply. When he turned to look at her, Mainwaring saw that she was rigid with anger. He stared out over his horses' heads again and waited for her to reply.
'How dare you!' she said finally. Her voice was very quiet, shaking with fury. 'You have no possible right, sir, to lecture me on correct behavior. You of all people! I cannot believe that you can have the effrontery to set yourself up as an authority on good manners.'
'You know as well as I do that you were deliberately rude to the Marquess of Hetherington and his wife,' he said calmly. 'I do not doubt that it was done to embarrass me. And you succeeded admirably. But you also embarrassed two people who have in no way deserved your scorn. Vent your contempt on me if you must, Nell. I have at least partly deserved it.'
She turned to him and looked full into his face. 'Mr. Mainwaring,' she said, 'when I refused to dance or converse with you at the marquess's ball, I believed I had made it clear that I had no wish to renew our acquaintance. And when you came to me with your insulting offer of marriage, I am sure I made it abundantly obvious that I both hate and despise you. Yet you have pursued me. I had no wish to see you last night, and I had no wish to drive with you this afternoon. I should be happy never to see you again. If I must be rude to your friends in order to be rid of you, then I shall be rude. But I will not be called to task by such as you. I will not.'
Mainwaring had paled, but he had had the presence of mind to turn his curricle away from the main promenade so that their quarrel would not be conducted in such a glaringly public setting. He turned to look at her now, pain in his eyes. 'Nell,' he said, 'there is so much I want to say to you. I have behaved badly, I will admit, but there is much you do not understand. I would like to have the chance to talk to you. There were no barriers between us when we first met. Yet now it is as if a stone wall had been erected between us.'
'I wish it had!' she retorted. 'I have nothing to say to you, sir, not now or ever. I wish to go home.'
'Nell…'he said.
She turned on him, angry again. 'And I have told you before,' she said, 'that that is not my name. I wish you to stop this curricle immediately, sir, and set me down. I find that I would prefer to walk home than have to remain in your company a moment longer.'
'That will not be necessary,' he said. 'I shall take you home.'
'Set me down,' she commanded. 'I wish to walk.'
'No, I cannot do that,' he replied. 'I have brought you out with your parents' knowledge, and it is my responsibility to see you safely home again.'
'Yes,' she said, 'and I am so safe with you, am I not, William? You will protect me from all the horrors that might face me if I were on foot and alone. Who knows? Some unprincipled man might even consider abducting me.'
'That is unfair,' he said, his face still pale and set into stern lines. 'You know that what happened between us, Nell, was no abduction. You were as willing and as eager as I.'
'Yes,' she agreed, 'to my everlasting shame. Take me home, sir, at once, and I charge you as a gentleman to leave me alone in the future. I might have to see you again in the coming weeks, but I have no wish to talk to you again. Or to your friends,' she added.
They drove back to Charles Street in silence. Mainwaring did not enter the house, but lifted Helen to the ground, bowed, and turned back to his curricle as soon as a footman opened the door.
Chapter 12
Elizabeth Denning was in the nursery, bouncing her son on her knee. Most of the time he watched her solemnly, drooling wetly from an open mouth. Occasionally he would delight her with a wide smile. It was definitely a smile, she had decided. It was no longer just wind. Somehow he had got into his fist the ribbon that tied her dress below her breasts and was trying to direct it into his mouth.
'No, no, lambkin,' she said, gently wresting the ribbon from his fingers. 'I cannot walk around for the rest of the morning with a damp and bedraggled ribbon hanging down my front, you know. Shall we find a toy for you?'
She lifted him high in the air as she stood up, and he smiled his toothless smile again. 'Just like Papa, lambkin,' she said, laughing up at him, 'except that you do not yet have his lovely white teeth.'
'And a good thing too,' a cheerful voice said from the doorway. 'Even a toothless son is giving me quite enough competition for my wife's affections. I gather that you have finally admitted, my love, that John really can smile. Quite an accomplished little mite, is he not? But then, how could he avoid being so when he has two such parents?' He bent and kissed the baby on top of his blond curls and his wife on the lips.
'It is your modesty, you know, Robert, that has always attracted me to you,' Elizabeth said, lifting her head and kissing him in return.
He grinned. 'Here is a strange invitation,' he said, raising a card that he held in one hand. 'I thought I had better find you out and see what you think before replying.'
'Oh?' she prompted.
'Harding is organizing a party to take out to his Richmond home for a couple of days,' he said. 'He feels that the distance is far enough that his guests should stay overnight. He wants us to make two of the group.'
'Really?' Elizabeth said. 'We hardly know him, do we? To what do we owe the honor? It really is an honor, you know, Robert. Lord Harding hardly ever entertains. I do not believe many people have seen his home.'
'I have been thinking about it,' Hetherington said. 'Harding has been paying court to that eldest daughter of Claymore's. I imagine the matter must be serious. His name has not been linked with that of any woman since the death of his wife years ago. The outing is probably for her benefit.'
'And you think our connection with the earl and his family is the reason why we have been invited?' Elizabeth asked.
'Well,' he replied, 'William was almost the only person they knew when they arrived here, and we must have been among their earliest acquaintances. If Harding wishes to please the girl, he has probably been careful to invite people she knows.'
'Then William will also have been invited?' she said.
'Probably,' he replied. 'Do you think we should accept, Elizabeth?'
'I hate to think of leaving John for a whole day and a night,' Elizabeth said hesitantly. 'But it is tempting, Robert. I must confess a curiosity to see Lord Harding's home. And it would be ill-mannered to refuse, would it not?'
'I shall return an acceptance then,' he said. 'Perhaps we will be needed to rescue William from the lions' den.'
'Oh, Robert,' she said, 'you do not think that perfectly horrid sister will be there, do you? But of course, it is highly probable. I had not thought of that. She will be bound to ruin the whole outing and I shall be very hard put to it to be civil to her.'
He laughed. 'My love,' he said, 'I do not believe you could be rude to anyone if you tried. Although, when I think about the matter, I can remember some pretty blistering insults you once let fry in my direction.'
'Why did William take her driving yesterday?' Elizabeth asked. 'I still cannot understand it, although we talked and talked about it yesterday.'
'I believe it is as I said then,' Hetherington replied. 'William feels sorry for her and is trying to coax her out of the dismals. He has a kind heart, you know.'
'Yes,' she agreed, 'but there should be limits to the amount of sacrifice one is prepared to make for an
