Handsome? Oh, dear. Her thumbs resumed fidgeting on her lap.
“Your home is a far more comfortable pile of stones than I expected, considering its age,” Papa was saying. “How do you feel about living in such an ancient manse, Helena?”
Her gaze flew to Lord Ardoch’s. His brows lifted, awaiting her response. Heat flushed her cheeks.
“Comraich is lovely.” And it was, with its blue freestone walls and mullioned windows. “This is a pleasant chamber, too.”
The drawing room benefited from southwestern exposure. Light spilled through the windows to brighten the cheerful green and cream decorating the walls and furnishings. A gilt pianoforte occupied the corner by the window, and Helena itched to touch the keys. Once Lord Ardoch left for London and she was alone, she’d play every day.
One side of Lord Ardoch’s lips curved upward. “I’m gratified you think so. My late wife decorated it to her tastes, but you may do as you wish with it.”
Alter his wife’s rooms? Her hand lifted an inch from her lap. “I would not wish to overstep.”
Lord Ardoch’s gaze fixed on her hand. “It’s not an overstep. You’re to be the lady here. Change whatever you like.”
What she liked was to change nothing. To be a grateful little mouse. She lowered her hand.
“Change is your way, isn’t it?” Papa skewered Lord Ardoch with a glare. “I suppose you’ll have some new bacon-brained notion for the House of Lords come January?”
Helena’s thumbs fidgeted anew, but Lord Ardoch grinned, appearing almost gleeful. Her husband-to-be could stand up to Papa. Few could.
“Not new at all, Your Grace. I’m determined to introduce a plan to improve education.”
Papa waved his hand near his nose, as if the notion reeked. “Do not think I’ll support your notions because you are my son-in-law.”
Lord Ardoch’s smile turned impish, taking years off his countenance. Was this what his sons looked like? If so, they no doubt got away with heaps of mischief.
“I would not have dared dreamt it so, Your Grace. But neither will I neglect my determination to see the children of Britain educated.”
“All children?” Helena blurted. Did he mean the poor? Or just poor boys?
Papa stiffened beside her. “He’d insist the government school every urchin.”
At a soft shuffle at the door, her fiancé’s gaze riveted behind Helena. “Speaking of children, mine are here at last.”
A flutter twisted in Helena’s stomach as she and Papa stood. Would they like her? She would be their mother. Not in the real way, but she would try to make a worthy substitute. She’d always wanted to be a mother, after all.
Four children—two boys and two girls—assembled like infantrymen into a line, although the smallest girl needed the assistance of the young maid with mouse-brown hair and a beak nose.
Lord Ardoch made introductions, and the children performed precise bows and curtsies. “’Tis an honor, Your Grace,” they each said to Papa. Mama would approve of their deferential bearing at being condescended to by a duke.
But Helena didn’t wish them to feel condescended to by her. She turned to the eldest, a girl, and not Lord Ardoch’s child. Margaret Allaway was his deceased wife’s orphaned niece. A pretty girl, Margaret had the lean, angular look of an adolescent experiencing a rapid shoot of growth. The top of her reddish-brown head reached Helena’s nose.
“How do you do, Margaret? I understand you are thirteen? My youngest sister, Andy—Andromeda—is your age.”
“How do you do, Lady Helena?” Margaret did not return Helena’s smile.
Next came the boys, twins, seven years old and—how would she ever tell them apart? They were identical, from their bright eyes to their pointy ears to the light brown hair curling over their collars. The first, Alexander, mashed his lips together as if to stifle a laugh. His brother, Callum, stared at her shoulder as if his life depended upon holding his gaze there.
Mayhap she should address them both at once. “I hear you are busy lads.”
“Yes, Lady Helena.” One side of Alexander’s lips twisted up more than the other. It gave him a mischievous look. Callum grinned in exact imitation of his brother. Was there nothing contrary in their appearances?
A shaft of anxiety twisted in her abdomen.
She turned to the littlest girl, a round-cheeked blonde with clouded eyes.
“Louisa.” Lord Ardoch’s voice broke in before Helena could greet the child. There was a touch of something careful in his tone. “Lady Helena, Louisa is—”
“Five years old, I expect,” Helena interjected. What had he been about to say? That Louisa was blind, in case she’d forgotten? When Lord Ardoch had written to propose, he’d told her his youngest could see nothing but light. Did he fear his daughter’s blindness would bother her? Or did it embarrass him?
The back of his fingers stroked Louisa’s rosy cheek. “Her birthday was last week.”
No, he wasn’t embarrassed. Just protective.
“Papa gave me a cradle for Tabitha, and the boys aren’t allowed to touch it,” Louisa announced.
Perhaps that was for the best, considering how Alexander and Callum stifled snickers. “Is Tabitha your doll?”
“She is indeed,” Lord Ardoch said.
“From Mama ’afore she went to heaven.” Louisa’s statement was matter-of-fact.
At the front of the line, Margaret stiffened. Oh, dear. Perhaps Margaret missed her aunt, or feared being shuffled off because she was an orphaned relation. Well, Helena would give Margaret plenty of support during the adjustment. And surely, in no time at all, they would be a happy family.
Papa cleared his throat. “Very good, Lord Ardoch.”
With a paternal nod, her betrothed sent silent approval to his brood. They executed one last bow or curtsy and filed from the room with the birdlike maid. He watched their backs as they went, smiling, like a loving father.
Helena smiled, too. Had he known her request to meet the children was a test? To see if he was a man of his word?
It wasn’t the children she’d needed to observe. Rather, it was whether or not Lord Ardoch loved them. Because if he loved his children, his motivation for marrying her was true.
He wanted her for his children’s sake. He did not want her for himself. And that was what she wanted above all. To not be wanted by a man, not after what Frederick did to her. If she was never going to be hurt again, she must spend her life alone.
* * *
Alone. John was so accustomed to silent corridors and solitary meals and empty arms, it felt almost strange to be at Comraich, with its
