The Courtship - Catherine Coulter [66]
“The gown isn’t cut all that low, Douglas,” Lord Beecham said mildly.
“Just how the hell would you know that, you damned scoundrel?”
“I swear to you I am jesting with you, nothing more.”
“I don’t believe you. If by some small chance you are telling the truth, it would mean that you are clearly not yourself, Heatherington. Something is wrong with you. Come, what is it? I know it can’t be this lamp business. I still don’t believe such a thing can actually be real—real, as in you and I could actually touch it and make something incredible happen.”
“I’m not sure that I believe in it either, but it makes me furious to know that scoundrels are now on the scent. You know Crowley. If he even had only the veriest smid gen of belief, he would go after anyone. I know he would find out about Helen.”
Douglas eyed him for a while longer. “You are really worried about this?”
Alexandra eyed the two men and said, “In all truth, knowing Helen, she will take one look at Crowley and put him in the stocks she has at the back of the stables.”
“Stocks?” Lord Beecham said, staring at her. “As in a man or a woman has to put his head and his hands through these holes and is locked in? And he or she has to just stand there in the middle of a street for all and sundry to come by and taunt him or her?”
“Oh, no,” Alexandra said, and giggled “the stocks are behind the stable, not in the middle of the street. Helen says taunting is nothing, it is far too lenient a punishment.”
Both men’s eyes were nearly crossed, particularly since Alexandra had flushed to her hairline.
“No,” she said firmly. “We can discuss stocks once this is over. Now we will figure out what to do. I am worried about Helen as well, despite her prowess. What if there is some danger? Since things are now getting about, what if some bad man goes to Helen’s house to force her to tell him about the lamp? Perhaps Spenser is right. We need to protect Helen. She is still at home?”
“She is at home, minding her inn and setting up a marriage between the butcher’s son and her maid, Teeny. Flock, who appears to do everything for Lord Prith, is very loud in his pain over this. My valet, Nettle, must needs share in this unrequited love with Teeny, and he looks like a wounded dog.
“Helen is fine, Alexandra, surrounded by more people than any of us ever are. I imagine she is trying her very best to decipher the leather scroll.” He paused just a moment, then added, his eyes narrowed, “She is very smart. Given time, I’d wager she could do it.”
Douglas said, grinning, “Helen could snap the neck of just about any scoundrel I could pick off the streets in Soho. This stock business, Alexandra, I do want to speak more about this later, perhaps tonight in bed, perhaps—” Douglas cleared his throat, then continued, “Besides being beautiful and big and strong, Helen is also smart. I agree with you about that.”
“What is this, Douglas?” his wife said, coming right up to him, rising on her tiptoes and staring at his chin. “You’re going on and on about Helen again, and it dis tresses me. I know you admire her, Douglas, but it would be wise of you to keep it to yourself. But I will still know even if you do keep it to yourself because I am a part of you, so you must get Helen once and for all out of your mind. Forget about stocks and Helen. Do you hear me, Douglas?”
Douglas was staring at his wife’s once again open cloak. He swallowed, lightly stroked his fingers down her nose, and said, “I know where my bread is buttered, my sweet. I am merely attempting to reassure Heatherington here.”
“I don’t need any reassurance,” Lord Beecham said. “Well, I do, and I shall write Helen this very day and warn her to take care. Besides, I have been gone from her nearly two weeks now, and I have learned quite a lot. Perhaps it is time I returned to Court Hammering. Then we will decide what to do.”
“Not until you tell us all about what you and Helen have discovered.” Douglas began to elbow Lord Beecham along the walkway toward his carriage. “You can even ride with me and Alexandra.”
“I want to know why Helen