In Sebastian’s estimation, she won every battle she fought with the Scot. He was waving the white flag almost before the conflict began. “Are you married, Fergus?”
He snorted. “I canna say I am.”
“Then kindly keep your advice about women to yourself,” Sebastian grumbled, not nearly as disgruntled as he pretended. He liked the thought of Helena having a champion all those years at Aldmist Fell, but now it was Sebastian’s turn, and he intended to keep her safe.
“I may no’ be married,” Fergus said as they walked outside, “but I have fair experience with the lasses. Sisters and cousins enough to drive any man insane if he does no’ know how to handle them.”
Helena leaned to peek out the carriage door. “I heard that.”
“And the fairer sex is a nosy lot,” Fergus said with a wink. “Never forget it, milaird.”
Sebastian chuckled as he climbed into the carriage and sat beside Helena. “He’s a good man. Very wise.”
She plopped back against the seat with an exaggerated huff. “Wise enough not to make that claim in front of his kinswomen.”
Fergus’s laughter was muffled as he closed the door and climbed on the box to ride with the coachman.
“Are we taking the bridge or ferry?” She swiveled toward him. “Because if we take the bridge, Cora’s ordeal will be cut shorter. We can wait outside the gates.”
“Cora’s ordeal,” he muttered.
She sighed. “I am sorry, Sebastian. I know her threats are worrisome with Eve not yet settled in marriage, but Cora would never carry through on them.”
He wished he held the same confidence in her sister’s goodness. So far Cora had done nothing to prove herself worthy of Helena’s loyalty. Of course there was a remote chance her sister wasn’t responsible, but that begged the question of who was.
He turned to look out the window. As the carriage flew past streetlamps, the interior lit for brief moments before plunging in darkness again. The gossips would be giddy if Helena’s past was revealed. A debauched gentleman stealing a young girl from a poor family. Elevating her to the status of viscountess and lying about her heritage. Any number of assumptions could, and would, be made about the years Prestwick held her at his castle, none of them complimentary.
Sebastian hadn’t considered how his sister might fare if this story made it into the gossip sheets. Helena was Eve’s sponsor. Certainly her fall from grace could tarnish his sister’s reputation too.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, a dull pounding beginning behind his eyes. Putting his mother and sister through more turmoil was unacceptable, but even more gut-wrenching was the prospect of Helena going through the same humiliation he had suffered. The person threatening the woman he loved would be caught and dealt with tonight.
They were silent as the carriage weaved through the maze of city streets, and when they reached the bridge, Helena grabbed his hand and squeezed. He smiled to reassure her.
Colorful lanterns flickered through the trees as the carriage approached the gates to the gardens. A barouche and hired hack were the only other vehicles outside the gate. Most revelers took the ferry across the river.
“We have arrived,” he said and gently tipped up her chin. “Remember, you are to stay in the carriage until I return, no matter how long it takes.”
“I promise.”
He kissed her quickly then the carriage door swung open. Fergus set the stairs in place and Sebastian exited. As he neared the entrance, Helena called to him. “Lord Thorne.” She was braced in the doorway.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Perhaps if you mention my name, she will not give you trouble when you apprehend her.”
“It is worth the effort. Thank you.” He shooed her back inside, pleased when she ducked into the carriage and closed the door.
Spinning around, he collided with a woman hidden in the shadows. “Pardon me, madam.”
She pulled the hood of her cloak higher to cover her graying hair. “It was my fault, sir. Forgive me.” She slipped past him with her head lowered and hurried in the direction of the dock, stumbling over something on the path.