Page 65 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

“Yes, but—”

“I’ve also left her money for a railway ticket. If worse comes to worst, she can always take the train to Devon.”

The tension in Helena’s face softened. She dropped her hand back to her lap. “Oh, Justin.”

“I hoped that would ease your mind.”

“It does. So much. But it’s all been achieved at such great inconvenience to you. How can I ever—”

“You needn’t.”

“But after everything I’ve—”

“What’s done is done.” He strove for a bracing tone. He didn’t think he could bear it if she offered to repay him. And he sure as hell didn’t want to hear her express her gratitude. “We can only go forward.”

She held his gaze. “Can we?”

“We can try,” he said gruffly. “Which is precisely why I went to see Finchley. We can’t just drift along without a plan. Not when it comes to matters of law.”

“Is it a matter of law?” she asked. “Even though we’re married?”

“It may be. It depends…” He ran a hand over his hair. It was still damp from the rain. “There’s an issue of consent.”

She blanched.

“You understand the concept, I trust.”

“Yes, I do. It’s only…” She returned her teacup to the tea tray. Her hands were trembling. “The night they came, I heard Mr. Glyde as I was passing through the hall. He said I was unable to consent to marriage.” Her voice grew thin. “Which means you and I are not married at all.”

Justin took her by the hand. “Listen to me. I’m going to explain everything that Finchley and I discussed and everything we propose to do. But first I want you to hear me. To really listen.”

She nodded.

He threaded his fingers through hers. His words were fierce and low. “No one is ever going to take you away. Do you understand me? Not your uncle or Mr. Glyde. Not the courts. There’s always a way, Helena. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t risk—nothing I wouldn’t dare—for the people I care about.”

Helena’s fingers flexed in his. “How can you care for me?”

“You’re my wife. How can I not?”

“I’m only your wife because I played you false. Because I took advantage of your kindness and generosity.”

He snorted. “Good God, Helena. Do you think me as innocent as a babe? I knew you were hiding something the day I met you. Have you forgotten how I spoke to you at the King’s Arms? If I were squeamish about marrying a woman with secrets, I’d have turned tail and run.”

“I can’t understand why you didn’t.”

Justin didn’t wonder. He scarcely understood himself.

All he knew was that he’d always had a weakness for fine things. An incessant yearning for something more. Something better.

It had never led to anything but misery. He’d had ample proof of that over the years. Everything he’d acquired—all the way down to Greyfriar’s Abbey itself—had ended as no better than a millstone round his neck.

Which was precisely why Boothroyd had warned him against marrying her. He knew Justin’s weakness. Had always known it.

And this time it was worse. His desire to possess the refined, beautiful creature who had answered his advertisement was all mixed up with his instinct to protect her, to keep her safe.

Hadn’t Finchley said it would do him good to successfully rescue a female from harm?

Curse the man and his opinions.