She hitched her chin. “You are not invited.”
He took a step toward her, tempted to claim her bottom lip when it mutinously pushed out. Unfortunately, the Scot wasn’t likely to look the other way while Sebastian overstepped his bounds. He forced his hands to his sides, even though he ached to touch her. “If you think I am letting you out of my sight until our bargain is fulfilled, madam, you are mistaken. Would you like to invite me inside so we might discuss this further?”
When she glared, he smiled. “Insufferable beast,” she said and stormed inside, closing the door behind her.
Fergus chuckled. “You’ve riled her now, my laird. Very wise.”
“How so?”
“When the lass finally gives in, she will feel satisfied for having given a good fight. Carries too much guilt, that one. For kowtowing to Laird Prestwick, but she was just a girl. She couldna have won the battle.”
Sebastian’s nostrils flared at the mention of Prestwick. “Did he ever raise a hand to her?”
“No, his lairdship never abused her. She was afforded the same kindness he extended to his breeding mares.” Fergus’s derisive sneer revealed his poor opinion of his former employer. The Scot obviously cared for Helena, which made his overbearing manner less offensive all of a sudden. Her man inclined his head toward Sebastian. “But I’ve seen you with the lass. You listen to her wishes and treat her with kindness. Allow her to choose you and her heart will be yours forever.”
Sebastian sighed, considering the older man’s words. Fergus had known Helena for years. He was like family to her. If Sebastian were truly wise, he would heed the servant’s advice. “Perhaps I shouldn’t go to Haslemere with her.”
“I didna say let the lass run roughshod over you, my laird. Give her the fight she needs, so she can redeem herself in her eyes. Then it’s only a matter of time before she lets herself love you in return.”
Sebastian smiled ruefully. “Am I that obvious?”
Fergus cackled and slapped him on the back. “Aye, like a jackass at a garden party.”
Twenty-one
The next morning Helena and Fergus climbed into a hack to head for Clerkenwell to call on her younger sister Cora. Today she needed a friend, not a pretend footman. As much as Helena tried to stir up enthusiasm for her visit to Cora, she couldn’t shake the dark mood hanging over her like a rain cloud.
Fighting with Sebastian had her insides twisted in a snarl. She had known leaving him would be difficult, but parting on bad terms didn’t make separating any easier. It made her feel like a spoiled, ungrateful brat.
She had been honest with him about her plans, believing she owed him at least that much. But she wished they could have kissed each other good-bye and ended their association on friendly terms.
Liar. She adjusted her position on the carriage bench, trying to wrestle the truth into submission. Eventually, she tossed her hands in the air. “Very well. I am one.” She didn’t want to end things with Sebastian, but what other choice did she have? At some point, he would tire of her, and she couldn’t see delaying her plans when they had no future together.
Fergus’s chuckle reminded her she wasn’t alone. Heat rushed into her cheeks. But instead of drawing attention to her embarrassing habit of talking to herself, he asked a question. “How old was Cora when you were brought to Aldmist Fell?”
“She had just turned eleven. Cora was always small for her age. Not surprising since it was nearly impossible to get the girl to sit still. Mama used to say she was going to nail Cora’s skirts to the chair if she didn’t sit down and eat. She never followed through, of course.”
Helena relaxed against the seatback with a fond smile. Even when Mama was struggling to keep them fed, clothed, and sheltered, she had kept her sense of humor. Helena’s younger years had been happy ones because of her.
“What about Pearl? How old is she?”
Helena tapped her finger to her lip, quickly calculating Pearl’s age. “She is nineteen. Only a year younger than Cora.”
“Close in age like you and Lavinia. Were they the best of friends like you two?”