Page 23 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

“Didn’t he tell you?”

Helena shook her head. Mr. Finchley had been young and even handsome after a fashion, but his manner, however kind, had been strictly professional. He’d told her nothing about himself, and the information he’d conveyed about Justin had been more in the way of reassurances than confidences.

She recalled how he’d leaned across his desk to hand her his handkerchief, his light blue eyes unerringly sympathetic. “Thornhill will protect you,” he’d promised. “Once you’re his wife, no one will ever touch you again. That I can guarantee.”

“The four of us were in the orphanage together,” Justin said. “Me, Neville, Finchley, and another boy, Alex Archer. We were like brothers.”

“And you’ve all remained friends?”

“Not as we once were,” he said. “Finchley was articled to a solicitor in London and Neville had his accident. I joined the army and Archer…” His face grew somber. “Archer broke his apprenticeship and disappeared. We none of us know what happened to him. I’ve long suspected he’s dead.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He shrugged. “It’s of little matter.”

Helena could see that that wasn’t entirely true. Justin didn’t appear indifferent to the fate of his friend. Quite the opposite. “They were like your family,” she said softly.

“We were orphans, Helena. They were my family.”

“And they accompanied you every week on your sail to the Abbey. But not to look for treasure. Why then?” she wondered aloud.

“We were always sneaking about the Abbey’s grounds. Digging holes and crawling in through half-open windows. I’m rather amazed none of us was ever brought up before the magistrate.”

“Was the Abbey empty then?”

It seemed an innocent enough question, but Justin’s expression—already so thoughtful and somber—grew shuttered. It was as if he’d firmly closed a door in her face. Not only closed it, but barred it and bolted it, too. When he next spoke, Helena had the distinct impression he wasn’t being wholly forthcoming.

“It was owned by a baronet,” he said. “Sir Oswald Bannister. He was always well in his cups whenever we came calling.”

“But then…how did you come to live at the Abbey? Did you purchase it from him?”

A line of tension tightened Justin’s jaw. “In a manner of speaking.”

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“You’ll hear it eventually from some well-meaning busybody.”

“Perhaps, but—”

Justin cut her off in a hard voice. “Sir Oswald had a propensity for deep play. After he ran through the rest of his assets, he borrowed against the Abbey. I was in India at the time, but when I heard of his predicament…” He gave her a look filled with a bewildering mixture of bitterness, pain, and something very like triumph. “I had Finchley buy up his mortgages and then—when Sir Oswald was at his lowest ebb—I called in all of his debt.”

A chill skated down Helena’s spine. She leaned back in her chair, unconsciously drawing away from him. “That seems rather heartless.”

“It was nothing less than he deserved.”

She waited for Justin to explain, but he did not. The silence hung between them, taut and uncomfortable. Helena didn’t like it. And she didn’t like herself for being so judgmental. She had told him only yesterday that the past didn’t matter. He’d tried to confess something about the Abbey then, hadn’t he? In her desperation it had all seemed so unimportant. But now…

Now that their wedding was so close and so certain, she felt the familiar fear take hold of her. “There’s much we don’t know about each other.”

Justin was watching her. “Having second thoughts?”

“No,” she said. And it was the truth. She hadn’t the luxury of second thoughts. “I expect all couples who meet by matrimonial advertisement find themselves in our predicament. They are strangers, after all.”

“I’m not concerned.” His voice deepened. “You can learn me, if you have a mind to.”

Helena’s stomach performed another disconcerting gyration. It was butterflies, she realized with some chagrin. A veritable flock of them, each unfurling their wings and taking flight and—

Good heavens.