“I want to play, too. But not Cinderella.” Alex’s mouth pursed. “Are there soldiers in Hamlet?”
“Yes, but, is Hamlet not, er, too dark?” Helena could not dismiss the image of Yorick’s skull from her thoughts.
Margaret tipped her head. “Miss Munro says Shakespeare is essential.”
“She is quite right.” Frances nodded.
“Hamlet and Cinderella it is, then, and while we’re in London, you may use a table as a stage. Boys, will you look for scripts? One each. We shall save the soldiers for another day.”
Once the boys selected Don Quixote and The Miller and His Men, as well as the two-pence colored paperboard characters for each story, Helena’s stomach made an embarrassing growl. “Adam,” she beckoned the ever-faithful footman. “Take our purchases to the carriage, if you please. I think it time for cakes and tea.”
“Cakes!” Callum’s eyes glowed.
They had multiple confectioners to choose from. The covered bazaar on the edge of their Mayfair neighborhood boasted a colorful array of shops and dealers selling interesting wares, from shawls and books to caged birds and a black-and-white monkey. Vendors hawked bready Yorkshire cakes, fruit tarts and Dutch biscuits, aromatic with ginger, but Helena chose a quiet pastry shop with a table and chairs.
“Isn’t this bazaar more fun than the Burlington Arcade?” Frances said once the tea arrived.
Helena nodded. The bazaar was a delight, but it was also less fashionable than the arcade, so Helena hadn’t been here before. Nor had she spied another soul she knew—leaving her free to relax with the children and Frances, with no worry of stumbling into her family or Frederick.
All were quiet while they enjoyed their treats. Helena’s heart swelled within her chest, however, when she gazed on Louisa, scooping cake into her rosy mouth with a spoon and then, like the little lady she was, taking a sip of milky-sweet tea.
Thank you for how far Louisa has come, God. And for Gemma introducing me to Frances. She’s a dear friend, but she’s also helped out family. Without her friend’s letter about the blind school, Louisa might not be feeding herself today.
Outside the tea shop window, a gentleman passed through the bazaar. His back was to Helena, but the height, the hat, the breadth of his shoulders beneath his blue coat and the way he walked—
“Helena? Is something amiss?” Frances set down her cup with a chink.
Helena’s gaze swung back to Frances, who stared at her with unabashed curiosity. “Forgive me. I thought I saw something.”
A tall man who looked enough like John from the back that her heart started galloping in her chest.
How ridiculous. She was so drawn to him, she was imagining him. God, will You prune back my affections for John to love for a dear friend? Will you change me, so I will be content with what You’ve given me?
“Things take time,” Frances was saying to Margaret, drawing Helena’s attention. “Winter is cold indeed this year, but spring will come. The ground will thaw and new things will grow.”
“I know, but I’m weary of the cold.”
“So is Tabitha.” Louisa held up her doll.
“Not me,” Callum protested. “Alex and I built a snow fort in the garden.”
Their conversation was about the weather, not Helena. It didn’t even include her. But she couldn’t help feeling it spoke to her briefly uttered prayer, like God was answering her in some small way by reminding her to wait on Him. He changed things in His time.
Even her.
Parts of her had thawed. New things sprouted within her heart, like love for her family. Faith and trust in God.
And Helena heard Mama’s scolding voice in her head less and less.
Helena drained her teacup. God had given her so many people to love. Smiling at her family and friend, she resolved anew to enjoy them and the joy they’d brought into her life.
Frances glanced at everyone’s plates. “It looks as if we are all finished with our cakes. Is there something else we should like to see before returning home?”
“The monkey again,” Alex exclaimed.
“And the man with the birds. He said we could feed the parrot.” Margaret’s eyes sparkled.
“Will it bite?” Louisa rubbed her fingers over her chin instead of her napkin.
Helena tucked the white linen square between Louisa’s fingers. “I will be certain to ask before I let your little fingers anywhere near it, poppet.”
After donning their gloves and mufflers again, they sought out the monkey. Immediately, the children were caught in its antics, and she bent to describe the creature to Louisa. Behind them, Frances laughed. Margaret—
Where was she? Panic shooting through her veins, Helena rose, but she spied Margaret at once. She hadn’t wandered far. Just to the dealer selling exotic birds, who handed her what looked like a seed. Margaret tentatively extended her hand toward the vibrant green parrot on the perch. A gentleman sidled alongside, encouragement on his handsome face. So gallant, so handsome in an ash-gray caped greatcoat and tall hat.
Frederick Coles.
Helena handed Louisa to Frances and rushed to Margaret. Margaret spun, eyes round as coins. Frederick laughed, not sounding at all surprised. “Lady Ardoch, how pleasant to see you.”
“I cannot say the same.”
A large presence in the blue Ardoch livery appeared at her elbow. Adam the footman looked to her, his brow furrowed in concern. “My lady, may I assist?”
She nodded. “We are leaving. Now.”
Helena did not look back, but passed a man whose thinning black hair reminded her of John’s friend Carvey. Mercy, everyone’s double was at the bazaar today. As well as the most undesirable of persons. How foolish she’d been to think she’d not see anyone she knew here.
Margaret’s lips pressed tight until they dropped Frances home and were alone in the carriage. Then she turned a look of hatred on Helena. “How could you embarrass me like that? In front of Mr. Coles?”
“How do you know his name?”
“Everyone knows of him. He’s a hero. When we were playing in the square this morning, my friend Kitty told me about him finding stolen gems, and she was jealous when I told her I’d encountered him in the bookstore.”
Ah, the neighbor Kitty, who’d no doubt heard about Coles from her parents. “Nevertheless, I don’t wish you to speak to him.”
“Why?”
“Enough.” Her voice held a metallic tone that startled all four children into gaping. “There will be no more discussion of it.”
Margaret flopped in a heap against the seat. “I’m not your daughter.”
“I know.” Still, the words ached. The pain relieved a little when, an hour later, a servant brought her a hastily scrawled note from Frances.
Brava, Lady Ardoch. Mr. Coles is no hero, despite the tale making its way about town. Should you require my assistance in any matter in his regard, even as a listening ear, consider me a willing servant. F.F.
It shouldn’t have made her cry, but it did. She had a friend in Frances, who didn’t even know what Frederick did to her last summer at the dovecote. Frances supported her anyway.
John did, too, and she would need him now. Because Frederick Coles wasn’t staying away from her or their family. He was goading them, gloating in their inability to prosecute him without bringing scandal to themselves and her family.
What had Frances said about things taking time?
Lord, grant us protection and justice. But please hasten.
Knowing Frederick was free to hurt anyone, flaunt his violence in Helena’s face, speak to her children...
It was almost too much to be borne.
Chapter Nineteen
“Frederick Coles is a blackguard,” John blurted when Helena told him about the bazaar that evening in the library. Rage roiled in his gut and made
his fingers fist. “Time for me to do what I should have done long ago.”
“Pray do not call on him. It won’t help.”
“I won’t call on him.” He stomped to the rosewood desk, sending Iona hurrying out of his way. He yanked a piece of foolscap from the stack, smacked it onto the blotter and thrust a pen into the inkwell. “I’m challenging him to a duel.”
“Do not be absurd.” Helena moved to his elbow. “Stop writing to Frederick.”
“I’m writing to Carvey.” With decent penmanship considering the anger flooding his veins. Every fiber of his being seemed sharper, pounding power. “He’ll agree to be my second.”
“You cannot be serious. I doubt you own dueling pistols.”
“Every gentleman owns dueling pistols.” But—
They were at Comraich, a never-used possession of his grandfather’s. No matter. He’d buy new ones.
Was that a sigh escaping Helena? “Enough of this foolishness.”
He blotted the page, then made a mess of folding it. “I’m not joking.”
“You would break the law.” Shouldn’t she sound frightened, rather than disbelieving?
The way his heart pumped liquid fire and his head seemed detached from his body, yes. “Twice now he’s approached Margaret. Twice now he’s attempted to intimidate and frighten you and revive the horrid memories of what he did to you. Enough. I must protect you, can you not see that? Has no one protected you before?”
Her breath hitched—there was no disputing the sound—but then she looked down, hiding her eyes.
“An invitation to duel isn’t protection.” Helena’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if she explained the alphabet to Louisa. “And as much as I appreciate your efforts, as much as I wish to string Frederick up by his boots for taunting us by speaking to Margaret, we must be sensible. A duel is not only illegal, but rather dramatic, is it not?”
It was, wasn’t it?
Thankfully God had sent Helena to talk some sense into him. He must be calming down, because it sounded funny now. A little. “I’m a good shot, you know. Of venison and pheasant. Iona can attest.”
The dog looked up at his mention of her name. Helena chuckled. “I’m certain you are, John. But that isn’t the point.”
No, it wasn’t. He moved closer to her. “Look how you saved me from a terrible decision. The Lord sent you to be a North Star to me and keep me on the proper path.”
And that was what she was. The ice-bright light that drew his eye and beckoned him home to his children.
She rolled her eyes. “You’d have come to your senses in a moment or two without me.”
“I’m not so certain.” God help him. “I’m unaccustomed to such rage as I feel, but he’s provoking us. And you deserve justice. Perhaps if I spoke to a barrister, in hypotheticals—”
“The truth would come out. These things always do.”
And despite the lack of justice in it, the victims of crimes such as Helena’s were not treated kindly. Right or wrong, it was the truth.
That didn’t mean he had to like it. “There must be a way to stop such a fiend.”
She made a humming sound his first wife sometimes used when she meant I know something you do not. Even the dog looked at her with curiosity.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m hopeful you are right.” She took his note to Carvey from his fingers, turning to toss it into the fire crackling in the hearth. “Now that you are calmer, I would appreciate advice on another matter.”
A change of subject? Probably for the best. “Anything.”
Her gaze fixed on his letter to Carvey smoking on the grate. The edges curled and blackened, and then it caught fire. “Margaret discovered Frederick’s identity somehow. The girl next door told her Frederick is a jewel-finding hero, and Margaret was excited to see him again today. Naturally she doesn’t understand why I...dislike him. I must find a way to speak to her about it without telling the entire truth.”
“Can’t you tell her he is not appropriate in our family and be done with it?”
Helena turned from the fire to skewer him with a disbelieving look. “I have.”
“Yet you wish to prolong this unpleasant conversation with her?”
“She reminds me I am not in authority over her, as a real aunt or mother would be. Sometimes I think she warms to me, and then—” Her eyes bugged and her hands waved. “She explodes like a firework. I know she is of an age, but her continued opposition pains me.”
John’s gut tightened, like he’d been kicked. Was part of this his fault? In truth, he probably wanted Helena to handle matters with the children, freeing him to work and to participate only in the pleasant times.
He’d been ignorant to leave it all at Helena’s feet. She’d handled the tasks of bringing the staff and children into line, but it might have been smoother for her had he supported her with his presence and words, rather than fighting her when she challenged Catriona’s boundaries.
It was too late to go back, but he could start now. “Let’s speak to Margaret together.”
Something he should have done when he first wed Helena, presenting a united front. He rang the bell pull, summoned Margaret from the nursery and took the seat beside Helena while they waited. “I have failed to tell you what an admirable job you’ve done with the bairns.”
Her head shook. “I cannot take credit. They are your children.”
“They’re flourishing, and not because of me. Alex hasn’t had a single nightmare since we arrived. Callum isn’t ribbing him about being the heir. Margaret smiles on occasion. And Louisa, well, look at her. She is growing more independent by the day.”
Warmth flashed in her eyes. She loved his children, that much was clear.
And he was so grateful for it.
Margaret appeared in the doorway, a defiant tilt to her head. She looked less like Catriona then, her air resembling the old Helena’s far more. It was impossible to stifle a smile. John beckoned her. “Lass, come sit with us.”
His niece obeyed, perching on a Chippendale chair. “Yes, uncle?”
Her choice not to include Helena irked. “I hear you were speaking with a man to whom you have not been introduced.”
Margaret’s eyes flashed betrayal at Helena. “We were not really speaking, so I did not think I required an introduction. Besides, he is a famous hero, and it’s clear he and Helena are acquainted.”
Cheeky lass.
“He is not my friend.” Helena’s voice was flat.
“So you have said.” Margaret echoed Helena’s tone.
“Enough.” John held Margaret’s angry gaze. “You know your manners far better than that, Margie. Helena was in the right today. A lady doesn’t speak to anyone who has not been properly introduced to her. It is the way of the world. And as for knowing him, well, Mr. Coles is not fit for our family’s friendship.”
“But Helena says we should extend the hand of friendship to all, no matter his or her station.” Margaret’s supercilious tone might have made him laugh, under different circumstances.
“I do not refer to his station. I refer to his actions.”
Margaret’s gaze sought out Helena’s. “What did he do?”
He opened his mouth, but Helena stayed him with her hand. “I’m not your blood, Margaret, but I pray you know I hold your best interests at heart. Will you not trust me to tell you when you are old enough to understand? And believe me when I say Mr. Coles is not suitable?”
John leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She is right, Margie. And I expect you to obey your aunt in this and in all things.”
The girl had no choice but to nod, but John prayed she meant it. Especially when Helena cupped Margaret’s cheek. How good it would be if Margaret truly looked at Helena as an aunt, if they could be like a real family. Even if such a thing was impossible, du
e to the nature of their marriage. But he prayed, nonetheless.
The moment was heavy until Helena dropped her hand and smiled. “What are the four of you doing upstairs? I heard giggles earlier.”
Margaret’s shoulders relaxed. “We are reading through the script of Cinderella for Louisa. She is making Tabitha flop around the room instead of the board character.”
“I should like to see this.”
“As should I,” John said. “But I have meetings. Forgive me, poppet. Perhaps tomorrow.”
“Yes.” Margaret’s shoulders sank. “Tomorrow.”
Once Margaret adjourned, John glanced at the clock ticking on the mantel. He’d be late for parliamentary duties if he didn’t leave now, but he didn’t want to go. “I glanced at the post. We’ve been invited to a musical evening at Lord Holliver’s next week. I scarcely know the fellow, so he won’t mind us sending our regrets.”
“Actually, I should like to go. If that’s well with you. I can go alone, if you prefer.”
“No, if you wish to go, we shall go together, as we shall handle Margaret and everything else together. I will make more of an effort to support you in front of the children.”
The tiniest twitch of her lips was the only clue she was pleased. But it warmed his chest and kept him company as he headed back out into the frosty air.
Until he remembered Frederick Coles again. Nothing would please John more than if Coles turned out to be the blackmailer with the falcon seal, for then the ne’er-do-well would find himself in shackles, as he deserved.
Then Helena could be free from fear. Coles couldn’t hurt anyone else. And with justice of a sort served, John could focus on his plans for educational reform. Since his visit to the Relief for the Blind in Edinburgh, he’d had all sorts of notions swirling through his head about how to improve schooling for all children. Without distraction, he’d be free to put those ideas into action.
Actually, work was its own sort of distraction—from Helena.
He hadn’t been able to ignore the idea Carvey put in his head about his being in love with Helena. Ridiculous, but the truth of it was, he thought of her far more often than he should. He should be thinking instead of his promise to Catriona never to replace her in his heart.
A Mother For His Family Page 18