by Dawn Brower
She held back the urge to roll her eyes. That was a solid assumption—even if it yielded false results. Helena wasn’t hideous. At least, she didn’t think so. Her hair was golden blonde and her eyes the odd color of violet-blue, but she was no great beauty. Even so, her inheritance should have made the men of the ton stop to take notice even if her lineage didn’t. From the moment she had her come-out ball though, nothing had gone as it should.
“I’m destined to be a spinster,” Helena replied with a shrug. “None of them notice me.”
She really didn’t care either. Let them continue to overlook her and whisper their secrets. They’d realize their mistake soon enough. She was more than happy to utilize the opportunity to her advantage. The ton might overlook Helena and dismiss her as nothing, but she was all right with that. Invitations arrived daily, giving her entrance into every social event of the season. All the balls and soirees would allow her to plan a life away from it all someday. It was all set and the first step taken for her new venture to begin.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “My sister will not be rebuffed. I’ll make sure they pay attention to you.”
Oh, dear—she had to talk him out of this and fast. “You’re sweet, but I rather you didn’t. I don’t want to make a scene.” If he did though, she could use it to her advantage… “I’ve accepted my fate. I don’t want any man for my husband. It will take someone extra special to capture my heart, and if they can’t see me for who I am, then I don’t want them.” It was a bitter notion to swallow; nonetheless, she’d accepted it. A husband and family of her own were not in her future. That didn’t mean she couldn’t find happiness. Maybe someday she’d take a lover or adopt a child. Once she was settled and had the means of taking care of herself, she’d have a lot of options. Not finding a man to wed wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. It might even prove to be a good thing… A woman should be able to take care of herself, and she had always thought it rather silly that females were expected to depend on the males in their lives. Some men were idiots, and a great deal tended to be rather foolish.
“You want to fall in love?” His voice held and edge of disbelief in it. “How unnatural of you—our family doesn’t take matters of the heart into consideration when choosing a spouse.”
He wasn’t wrong. “Father is most displeased and threatened to pick a husband for me.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You really need to tell me these things in advance, so I can be around to watch.”
Helena sighed. “It’s not as if I plan to give father fits. He does it all on his own. Seriously, why must he lose his temper over the silly idea that I have to wed the first man who pays me any attention?”
Lucas gave in and laughed. “Darling, most ladies want to marry. I don’t think you actually do. At least pretend to be looking.”
She didn’t know if she could. Sure, in the beginning, she had actually sought a husband. The flock of lords who had come looking for a wife her first season had been—lacking. None of them sparked any interest. They didn’t make her heart beat faster and leave her with the desire to see them again. She didn’t need them for support. If she held out long enough, she’d have more than enough money to live in comfort. Unfortunately, she had another decade to wait for her inheritance. Without a husband, it would sit in a trust until her thirtieth year.
“Why?” She crinkled her nose. “They’re boring.”
“There has to be someone here you find appealing.”
“Actually, there isn’t…”
A murmur spread through the room, and Helena glanced up to see what caught the other guests’ attention. Anything noteworthy would have to be filed away for future use. The gossip of the ton would be her bread and butter when her father cut her off. It was going to happen sooner or later. He’d all but threatened it earlier when they’d argued. If she didn’t actively look for a husband, he’d take away her pin money, and she could forget about any new gowns or fripperies.
Ah… That’s what they were all talking about. Lord Oliver Hunt, the Marquess of Dashville himself had arrived. He was every bit as handsome as the squeals of delight implied. He’d be a catch for any lady, and not for the title and fortune he held. Dashville’s physique had even caught her notice. Tall, broad shoulders, dark brown hair, and ice blue eyes—a prince charming straight out of every young girl’s fairy tale. Until he opened his mouth and spoke, anyway.
He headed straight for them. She steeled herself for his arrival. He’d come to see Lucas, but she would still have to prepare herself. She had lied earlier. There was one man who left her a jittery mess of nerves. Dashville affected her as no man ever had, and he ignored her even more than the rest. No, ignore wasn’t quite the right description. He saw her, and he even acknowledged her, but he didn’t see her. It would’ve been rude of him to ignore his friend’s little sister.
“Darcy,” he nodded at Lucas. “Lady Helena.” Dashville bowed.
“You were supposed to be here a while ago,” Lucas accused him. “I’d have waited otherwise. Where have you been?”
“I was unfortunately delayed.”
Once again Helena became invisible as they conversed. After he said his greeting, Dashville pretended she no longer existed. It irritated her on every possible level. The woman in her screamed at the unfairness of it all—the one man who made her sit up and take notice continued to be indifferent to her.
“You can make it up to me by dancing with Helena,” Lucas said. “It’s not right that she’s a wallflower.”
Dashville stiffened noticeably. “I…”
“Don’t say you don’t know how. We’re all taught proper.”
Helena really should stop this before it grew legs and ran away from her. She’d never live it down if Dashville was forced to dance with her. She didn’t need a charity dance. Damned if she needed to dance at all.
“Of course I know how to dance,” Dashville said, affronted. “It’s not that.”
Lucas narrowed his gaze. “Please don’t tell me you’re afraid of Helena. She’s not going to bite you.”
“Maybe I will,” she muttered under her breath. Dashville stared at her as if she was a foreign specimen.
“What?” Lucas asked.
“I appreciate the effort,” Helena told him. “But you don’t need to coerce your friend to dance with me. I’m sure you have other plans.”
“See, she doesn’t want to dance with me.” Dashville jumped on her statement as a way out. She should be offended, but she understood.
“I don’t care,” Lucas said. “She needs to dance at least once. It’ll make father happy, and it’ll make our lives easier. I’d do it, but I don’t count. Can’t very well marry my own sister.”
Dashville’s eyes widened. “Now listen here, I’m not marrying your sister. That’s taking things a bit far. I would like to choose my own wife, and I’m not nearly ready to do that.”
Both men were talking over her as if she was no longer there. Was this to be her fate for the rest of her days? Men always talking over and around her as if she didn’t exist? No, that wasn’t right either. They wouldn’t be arguing about her otherwise. The idiots thought they knew better than her. That was the real problem.
“Don’t worry, my lord,” Helena interrupted them and glared at Dashville. “You’re the last man I’d ever deign to marry. You’re safe from my scheming ways.”
“It’s not…” Dashville started to explain. “That is, I’m sure you’re lovely,” he stammered. “Oh hell, Lady Helena, would you do me the honor of dancing with me.”
He’d pushed himself into a corner and thought that was the only way out for him. Too bad. She wouldn’t let him have that easy of an escape. The marquess would realize one day that he missed out, and too bad for him. She was a catch, darn it.
“Don’t bother,” she replied. “It’s not worth it. Go play cards with my brother. It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“I can bloody well danc
e once before I do.”
Great, now he wasn’t going to let it go. She’d yell at Lucas later for his interference. “I don’t mind. Truly.”
The strands of music died as the current dance ended. Dashville didn’t give her a chance to say no again. He reached out and grasped her hand in his and led her to the floor. She glanced over her shoulder to find Lucas grinning smugly at them.
The music started again as the first notes of a waltz played. Oh hell… It had to be this dance too. It was so—daring. She’d be a blubbering idiot by the end of it. He held her hand in his and then placed his other at her waist. Tingles she’d never experienced before flooded her. Helena glanced up and met his gaze. His ice-blue eyes were as cold as the color they depicted. There was no emotion in them, and especially, no indication he even realized who she was. It was demoralizing.
He swung her around the floor with an expertise she didn’t know existed. It was amazing and cold in its execution. If he tried even the littlest bit, she’d be putty in his hands. She wanted him as she’d never wanted a man.
“My, you’re a regular gossip,” Helena teased. “Please, don’t talk anymore. I can’t handle it.”
“Talking is overrated,” he replied. “Why bother when there’s nothing to say?”
That hadn’t gone well. “I suppose that’s true, but generally it is expected that dancers converse. Otherwise, it’ll create talk that is best avoided.”
“I could care less what the ton thinks of me.”
“Said like a person who doesn’t fully understand the disaster of a lost reputation. I wonder if you’d say the same thing if you were truly the subject of the worst kind of scandal.”
He frowned. “As I don’t intend to be, I don’t see your point.”
“No one ever intends to find themselves the talk of the ton. That’s the whole point of a scandal. People find trouble when they least expect it. No one willingly courts disgrace.”
“Be that as it may,” he replied rather smugly. “I’ll never be one of those poor saps. I have a better handle on discretion.”
With those words, he sealed his fate. One day she’d make him eat those words. She was patient enough to make it happen. He didn’t realize the trouble he’d courted—no one ever truly did. She lifted her lips into a sultry smile. “My lord, I hope you do. I’d hate to read about you in the scandal sheets. Especially if you continue to be a friend of my brother’s.”
“What is that supposed to imply?”
“Nothing,” she reassured him. “Wishing you all the best and all that goes with it. I would so hate for Lucas’ dearest friend to experience any kind of upheaval—that’s all.”
Damn him and his handsome face. If only he didn’t have a horrible attitude to go along with it. Thankfully, the dance ended, and he led her back to her brother.
“Let’s find that card game now,” Lucas said. “But not here. The club will be more fun.”
Dashville nodded. “I agree.”
They both left without a by-your-leave. “Do dash away, gentleman. It’s not as if I need a chaperone or anything.” Helena sighed. Tomorrow would be a brighter day, and she had a new subject for her project. Dashville was in for a rude awakening.
Chapter 1
All anyone can talk about is how Lady Helena Carter snubbed a certain marquess. A lady so firmly on the shelf shouldn’t be so choosy in her suitors. One would think even the likes of Lord Dashville would do in a pinch…
—Whispers from Lady X
* * *
The Season, 1816
Helena strolled into the Loxton ball nodding at acquaintances as she passed. A lot had changed in five years. Well, not that much… She was still a spinster in the making—if she could even be considered that. Now though, it was more by choice than anything else. She hated to admit it, but the dance with Dashville had changed things. His social status had made some of the other men take notice. Too bad it had been toward the end of the season and none of them had piqued her interest.
Still, somewhere along the way she’d become a favorite. She had more than enough suitors, and she should have picked one of them. That was what a dutiful daughter did. They married and moved out of the family home to start a new life. An adventure in motherhood and hosting parties—all of it sounded rather dull. The adventure she sought was far more exciting, and she liked to live a little dangerously. She could snub her nose at the ton, but why should she?
They were perfect fodder for what really mattered to her. They provided entertainment in more ways than one. So much happened at balls that no one ever saw. Unfortunately for them, Helena saw it all. Her keen observation skills and growing social status aided her far better than being a wallflower had. It hadn’t occurred to her that flitting around the room like a pretty butterfly would garner the fruit necessary to publish her writing.
Helena was no fool though. She took full advantage of the gift Dashville had given her, and repaid it in a way only she could. It didn’t matter that she was now firmly on the shelf and her would-be suitors had dwindled down to almost nothing. She would soon have more than enough funds to move out of her father’s house and live as she wished. The funds she’d accumulated over the years would ensure she could live comfortably until she reached the age of thirty and came into her full inheritance. At least her father had no control over that final outcome. Her grandfather had set up the trust and the current Duke of Montford, her dear old dad, had no power over its stipulations. Otherwise, she feared he’d have ensured she never received any of it.
“Lady Helena,” a male shouted her name.
She turned to see who was calling for her and plastered a smile on her face. They expected her to be pleasant, and she made sure she gave them the Helena they all wanted. When she went home, she could ease into the real person she was. “Lord Norfolk,” she said smoothly. “It’s lovely to see you. How is Athena? Have the pups come?”
Norfolk talked about nothing other than his hunting dogs. The last time she’d encountered him, he’d raved about the breeding stock and how the new pups were far superior to any other retrievers. Helena couldn’t care less, but her other persona made a mental note of every last detail. The lord talked about his dogs to anyone who’d listen, and he’d never pinpoint how Lady X had garnered the information about his hobby. Whoever married the man would have to share him with his hounds. Helena didn’t envy the future Lady Norfolk, and was rather thankful it would not be her.
“Yes,” he said enthusiastically. “She had four pups. Three boys and a girl. I don’t suppose you’d want one?”
She’d love to see the look on her father’s face if she brought a puppy into the ducal home. For that alone she was tempted to say yes, but refrained. If she took one of the puppies, it would encourage Lord Norfolk. “I’m afraid not,” she said with a sad tone. “My father would never allow it.”
That, at least, was the truth… The duke hated animals and firmly believed they had their place, and that was not in his home. A horse was something that provided a service, and they were well taken care of. Those were not pets, and he damn well would never buy his little girl a pony. She still had a little resentment over his refusal to buy her one.
“That’s too bad,” he replied. “Maybe he’ll change his mind.”
“It’s unlikely.” Helena shook her head. “It was sweet of you to offer though.”
“Lord Norfolk,” a male said from behind her. It was a booming voice filled with authority that demanded everyone around them take notice. “Sorry to interrupt such a titillating conversation. I’m here to claim my dance with Lady Helena.”
Like hell he did. She hadn’t accepted any names on her card yet, and she usually only danced once or twice in the evening regardless. She chose her partners carefully, and everyone knew she preferred to talk rather than dance. Stupid man thinking he could get the upper hand with her. He’d been trying his best to befriend her since that fateful ball five years past. Well, too bad. Holding a grudge suited her. Ther
e was one thing she could do—ignore him and pretend he hadn’t come up to join them.
“Lord Dashville,” Norfolk greeted the marquess. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you. After your dance with Lady Helena, we could have a conversation?”
“I’m afraid I won’t be here long,” Dashville replied. “Perhaps at the club.”
“Yes, yes,” Norfolk agreed. “Splendid.”
Norfolk probably wanted to talk about his hounds. Helena barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She could use his obsession with his dogs to her advantage. It would be the perfect escape and another way to stick it to Dashville. “Oh, don’t let me prevent you from telling Lord Dashville about Athena’s pups. I’m feeling a trifle ill, and I’m going to lay down in the ladies’ retiring room for a bit.”
“Are you sure?” Norfolk asked. He glanced up at Dashville and then back at her. The poor man had no idea what to do. Helena almost felt sorry for him—no, she actually did. He was a good man even if he fumbled in society from time to time. He didn’t deserve the way most of society treated him. “Would you like me to escort you?”
“I can see her there,” Dashville interrupted him.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Helena replied coldly. She didn’t even look at him as she spun on her heels and headed away from the two men. The nerve of him to think he could order her around. How dare he presume she’d even want to dance with him. He cared because Lady X had upbraided him for his lack of manners repeatedly. In truth, he was a popular addition to the scandal sheet. Helena took great pleasure in seeing his name printed as often as possible.
She rounded the corner and headed to the retiring room. It was one of her regular stops on evenings such as this one. Ladies in general had the best gossip, and they had no trouble sharing with her—sometimes without realizing it. Afterward, she’d head home and add the information to the final draft of her article. Tomorrow was a new edition, and she had a plan on exactly what the opening whisper would be…