Page 74 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

Justin nodded stiffly. “I thought I could pull him to shore, but the sea was too rough. I couldn’t find him in the water. It was Archer who finally rescued him. He saved his life.”

Helena’s heart ached for Neville. For all of them. “You’re not responsible for what happened. You know that, don’t you?”

“You think not?”

“None of you were responsible. You were only little boys. You should never have been allowed to climb on the cliffs. Any fool could see how dangerous it was. An adult should have stopped you. Someone at the orphanage. Neville’s accident is on their head, not yours.”

“No one could have stopped us. Not even if they’d tried. We were that determined.”

“But why?” she asked. “I still don’t understand.”

“We wanted to get to the Abbey. It was the fastest way.”

She turned her head and looked into his eyes. “Was it something to do with Sir Oswald? He seems to be tied up with everything somehow.”

“He owned the Abbey. Didn’t I tell you?”

“It’s more than that. Mr. Boothroyd said he’d been Sir Oswald’s secretary. He wouldn’t explain how he came to work for you. He said it wasn’t his story to tell. As if it’s all some sort of secret.”

Justin fell silent.

“We promised each other there would be no more secrets,” she reminded him.

His muscles tensed. Hiran reacted by sidestepping into a prancing trot. Justin absently brought him back to a walk. “What would you like to know?”

“Any number of things,” she said. “To start with, why were you and your friends so driven to visit the Abbey? You’ve said it had nothing to do with the tales of buried treasure. I think it must have something to do with Sir Oswald. I know you disliked the man.”

“You think I didn’t like him?” Justin gave an incredulous laugh. “Helena, I didn’t dislike Oswald Bannister. I hated him. We all did. Finchley, Neville, Archer, and I. We hated him so much that we drove him to his death.”

Justin was glad he couldn’t see Helena’s face. It was bad enough to sense the shock coursing through her body. He didn’t need to see it registering in her eyes.

He guided Hiran down the beach at an easy walk. Helena was half-turned in front of him, as if she were truly riding sidesaddle. Her back fit snugly against his chest, her plaited hair a silken torment beneath his chin. All he need do was tip his head and he could nuzzle the soft curve of her cheek. He could capture her mouth with his.

God knew he wanted to. Memories of the kisses they’d shared at the Stanhope Hotel had intruded on his thoughts far too often of late. The feel of her in his arms. The taste of her on his lips. The way she’d looked at him as her fingers twined in his.

If he could recreate those moments…rekindle the tenderness between them…perhaps she would forget about his past. She would cease her questions about Oswald Bannister and they could truly contemplate some sort of a future together.

And perhaps Hiran might sprout wings and fly.

“What do you mean, drove him to his death?” she asked. “You didn’t—”

“No. We didn’t kill him. Though you must know there are those who think we did. Or, more precisely, that I did.”

“Bess told me he fell from the cliffs. She said there was an inquest.”

“Did she?” Justin wasn’t entirely surprised. There weren’t many in the village who would pass up the chance to apprise his future wife of his dastardly reputation. “Sir Oswald was ever disobliging. Not long after I returned from India, he drank himself into a stupor and staggered over the cliffs outside of the Abbey. People still enjoy speculating about it.”

Helena turned her head. Her hazel eyes were soft with concern. “Why did you hate him, Justin? Did he hurt you somehow?”

A bitter laugh bubbled in Justin’s chest. Hurt him? Good God.

He reined Hiran to a halt by the water. He lifted Helena down to the ground and dismounted. She waited, her drooping skirts draped over one arm, while he caught Hiran’s reins.

“Oswald Bannister was a brute and a bully,” he said. “He hadn’t a single shred of honor.”

“Many gentlemen don’t. I know that well enough. One can’t hate them all.”

“Yes, well…it’s rather different when the gentleman in question is one’s father.”