That those impulses reared up in him around Helena was shocking, frankly. It set him on his heels.
“I shall turn the question on you,” he said. “You met all my prospects today. Are there any that you could call sister without pulling a face?”
Her expression softened. “I would accept anyone you married, assuming she made you happy.”
Baldwin bent his head. Happiness was not in the equation at present. “That doesn’t count as a response. You always have an opinion.”
“I’ve known most of your prospects for years,” she said slowly. “They’re all decent enough people. None have the...the spark that I thought you’d seek. The only stranger in our midst was that American girl, Charity Shephard.”
Baldwin swallowed. Here was Charlotte, dancing ever closer to the truth. “She’s interesting, I’d say.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows lifted. “That would be one way of putting it. She’s different, but I suppose that comes from being raised in a very different environment than ours.”
“You don’t like her,” Baldwin said flatly, and by his sister’s expression he could see he’d struck on the truth.
“Perhaps she’ll grow on me,” she said with a shrug. “You know who I did like today?”
“Who?” he encouraged.
“Her cousin, Helena.”
Baldwin let out his breath softly. Of course. Of course Charlotte would like Helena. Because the universe was patently unfair. “Yes, she’s very likeable,” he said. “You were seated with her and her family, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” Charlotte’s smile widened. “There’s this little spark to her that I cannot help but be attracted to. She comes across as someone who’d be a good friend. Who would fit in with Emma, Meg and Adelaide, too.”
These were the wives of his married friends, and Baldwin found himself nodding. He could easily see Helena amongst their ranks. Emma and Adelaide would be attracted to her sweetness, and Meg would love that she was the kind of woman who counted stars without apology.
“Well, she’s serving as her cousin’s companion,” he said, reminding himself as much as informing his sister. “I doubt she could be considered a—a prospect.”
Charlotte wrinkled her brow. “I’ve never known you to be such a snob, Baldwin. Her family back in Boston sounds to be as good as her cousin’s. And we’ve never stood on ceremony in our circles.”
Baldwin shook his head. Once again, they were back to a subject he couldn’t…wouldn’t discuss. “Well, I’m sure she’ll find a match if she wishes to do. Why don’t we join Mama and Ewan?”
His sister stared at him a moment, but then shrugged. “Certainly, if you’d like to. I suppose we’ve all had more than enough air today.”
She turned toward the terrace and Baldwin fell into step beside her. But even as he tried to refocus, to push aside the topics his sister had broached, he found he kept returning to images of fiery red hair, bright green eyes and a smile that lightened his load.
Images of a woman he could not pursue, no matter how pleasant a thought that was.
CHAPTER FIVE
“We have something to discuss.”
Helena looked up from her plate to see her uncle staring at her. She swallowed. “We? Do you mean you and me?”
“All of us,” Charity interjected.
Helena fought the urge to sigh and set her napkin aside next to her untouched breakfast plate. “What is it?”
She already knew the answer. But anything to put off the inevitable.
“Charity tells me she found you alone with the Duke of Sheffield yesterday when you snuck away from the party,” Uncle Peter said, spearing her with a glare.
Helena glanced at Charity. Of course she would run to tattle on her. It was in her nature, encouraged by her father and her late mother to seek out any unfairness or tiny slight she felt against herself, then tell the world about it. It had been that way with Charity since birth, and she rather expected that it would be until the grave.
“I-I didn’t sneak away, exactly,” Helena said carefully. “I only needed a moment. There were so many people, so many strangers.”
He slammed a hand down on the table to interrupt her. “How can I make myself clearer to you, you dolt of a girl? You are here to polish your cousin’s diamond, not to call attention to yourself or to try to whore your way into trouble like you did in Boston.”
Charity turned her face as tears flooded Helena’s eyes, followed by a pain she rarely allowed herself to feel. “That—that isn’t what happened in Boston,” she whispered, trying to push aside terrifying images. Painful ones. Ones that had changed her life, altered her spirit.
He lifted his brows. “It is what is happening now. You will do your duty, girl. And be happy that we’ve included you in your cousin’s future. That is a far better end for you than you could have had, isn’t it?”
Helena swallowed. In truth, he wasn’t wrong. Her life with Charity and Uncle Peter might be difficult, but it was nothing compared to what her family had done to her back home.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I apologize, Uncle. I won’t forget myself again.”
He pushed to his feet with a grunt. “Your cousin and I are going out,” he snapped. “We will be gone the whole day, so I suggest you think about your actions and ponder your next steps very carefully.”
Helena supposed this news was meant to be a punishment to her, but her heart soared even as she kept a somber, reflective expression. “Of course. I understand completely.”
“Good.” He turned to Charity. “Go upstairs and change into your best dress. We’re going on some calls.”
Charity sighed and motioned to Helena. “Come on then.”
Helena got up and followed her from the room. She was all but bouncing as she did so. She would have a whole day to herself to read and relax, to be free of the oppressive bonds put on her by her position. And perhaps her uncle would be more right than he knew. A day away would likely put her in a better mind to rededicate herself to her duties.
After all, she had no other choice in the matter.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Monroe.”
Helena looked up from her book and smiled at her uncle’s butler, Aniston. He was rather a kind man—she had noted that he always treated her with the same consideration as he did Charity, despite their disparate positions.
“What is it?” she asked, setting her book aside and rising.
“You have guests, miss.”
She drew back. “Guests? Who is it?”
“The Duchesses Abernathe, Crestwood, Northfield and Donburrow,” he explained while wringing his hands gently before him.
Her lips parted in shock. “I—oh! That is surprising. I wasn’t expecting anyone, certainly not anyone of such stature.”
“Shall I tell the ladies you are not in residence?” he asked.
She pondered the question a moment. It was an excuse to hide, to protect herself. But then she thought of the Duchess of Crestwood and of Baldwin’s sister, the Duchess of Dunborrow. They’d both been very friendly and kind at the garden party the previous day. They’d know she’d refused them if Aniston returned to say she was not at home.
She didn’t want to hurt any feelings, nor incur any more of her uncle’s wrath than she already had. She could well imagine his reaction if she sent four duchesses away.
“Of course I am in residence. Will you show them in and send for tea for us if they stay?”
He nodded, and within moments returned with the four ladies. Helena couldn’t help but pause as they came into the parlor. They were all so beautiful, though in very different ways. Dark and light, shy and outgoing. Of course, all their gowns were perfection, which made her more conscious of her own worn one that she’d inherited from Charity and had to alter.
“Good afternoon,” she said, forcing herself to come forward with a smile. “I’m so sorry if I forgot you were calling.”
The Duchess of Donburrow caught her hands, squeezing them gen
tly. “You didn’t, dear Helena. We were out shopping together and drove by. It was a very rude thing to do, dropping in on you uninvited, but I so wanted to see you and introduce you to my friends.” She motioned to the others. “You know Meg, of course, from my brother’s party the other day. This is Emma, Duchess of Abernathe, and Adelaide, the Duchess of Northfield.”
Helena swallowed. “Good afternoon to you all. Welcome, though I’m afraid my uncle and my cousin are not home at present to receive you.”
To her surprise, the Duchess of Crestwood’s eyes lit up. “Oh, such a shame,” she said, but there was no mistaking the sarcasm that laced her tone.
The Duchess of Abernathe sent her a side look. “We knew, actually. We were at the apothecary and overheard a friend saying that your uncle was out and about with your cousin making calls. We came because we wanted to see you.”
“Me?” Helena gasped.
“Yes,” the Duchess of Northfield said with a warm smile. “Meg and Charlotte spoke so very highly of you, Emma and I wanted to meet you straight away.”
Warmth washed over Helena, both the stinging kind that came from embarrassment and the pleasurable kind that came from joy. She had very much liked Baldwin’s sister and the Duchess of Crestwood. That they liked her in return was very nice, indeed.
“I—well, come and sit, Your—Your Graces? Your Grace, Your—”
“Oh dear!” the Duchess of Crestwood interrupted. “That will not do. When we’re all in a room together, it is far too confusing to go by title or to Your Grace. We’re friends, or we shall soon be, I wager. Why don’t we go by first names?”
Helena hesitated. Her uncle had drilled the importance of rank into her and her cousin. She’d been taught that those with titles always liked to be called by them, that to do otherwise was considered impertinent, but that had been disproven first by Baldwin and now by these ladies. “I don’t know…”
“We do!” Adelaide said with a laugh. “It is Emma, Meg, Adelaide and Charlotte, and you shall be Helena and that is the end of it!”
Helena laughed along with the other women. It was impossible to do otherwise. She nodded at last. “It will make it easier, I suppose. Please sit. Aniston is bringing tea as we speak.”
“Excellent,” Charlotte said, coming around to sit in one of the chairs.
They each took their place with Helena back on the settee, flanked by Adelaide and Emma. Emma picked up the book that had slid between the cushions when Helena was interrupted, and smiled.
“Oh, this is a favorite of mine!” she said, thumbing the pages gently. “What part are you on?”
Helena blushed. “Just to where she climbs out the window.”
Emma nodded with enthusiasm. “Do you like Lord Evans better or Lord Winter?”
“Lord Winter, obviously. He’s quite devilish.”
“A girl after all our hearts,” Adelaide laughed. “I think we’re all proof that devilish men are best.”
Charlotte folded her arms in mock upset. “My Ewan is only devilish when it is appropriate.”
“Your Ewan is a devil in disguise, I think,” Meg teased.
Helena watched it all with surprise. She had expected ladies of such rank to be stuffy. These women were anything but. They laughed and teased and she never felt left out of it, even though it was obvious the foursome were fast friends. It was the first time she’d felt comfortable in…well, a very long time.
“But we’re not here to talk about devilish husbands,” Emma said, blushing prettily. “That is not a proper subject, no matter how pleasing it is. We came here to get to know you, Helena.”
At that moment, a maid entered and Helena got to her feet to help arrange the sideboard. When the servant had left, she began to pour the tea. She was surprised when Charlotte came and helped her, sweetening as her friends liked and handing out the cups.
“You are under no obligation to answer our brazen questions,” Charlotte reassured her as they returned to the group at last.
Helena shifted under their regard. “I’m not certain you’ve asked any yet. What is it you’d like to know?”
“Boston is a long way from here,” Emma said. “Do you miss home?”
Helena let out a sigh. “In truth, not much. I was not very happy there as of late. I see this as an adventure.”
Adelaide smiled. “I like that attitude. Since your name is different, I assume your uncle is…”
“From my mother’s side,” Helena said with a nod. “He’s my mother’s older brother. He, er, well, he took me in.”
Not exactly true, but far less humiliating than saying what had really happened. She caught Adelaide and Emma exchanging a brief look, and blushed.
“He’s brought you to us,” Meg said. “So for that, we’re grateful. Obviously you and Emma share a love of books. Do you have any other hobbies?”
“I play piano a little. Very little and quite poorly.”
Emma raised a hand with a laugh. “We could torture a room together, I think!”
Helena shook her head. It was hard to look at the Duchess of Abernathe with her sweet expression and perfect hair and clothes, with her subtle sophistication that seemed to drip from her, and think the lady was not accomplished in every way.
“It is true,” Meg said with a teasing wink for Emma. “Once Emma tried to play some of the Irish Melodies and…” She dissolved into giggles, along with the other women.
Emma lifted her chin, but though she feigned offense, it was obvious from her sparkling gaze that she found as much humor in it as her friends. “And the cat began to howl. I am not ashamed of it. I thought we made a charming duet.”
Helena lifted a hand to cover her own giggles. “The same happened to me. Only it was my uncle’s hounds who accompanied me. Until—” She broke off as the amusing memory turned harsher. Uncle Peter had been very angry.
Adelaide eyed her sharply and then smiled, almost with understanding. Swiftly she changed the subject, and for the next hour Helena was enraptured by her four new friends. The women were kind and engaging, funny and friendly. Emma told stories of her precious baby Beatrice, who everyone called Bibi, and Helena thought she caught a glimpse of Meg touching her belly whenever the subject arose. It was all so very comfortable and Helena found she didn’t want it to end.
But at last, Charlotte stood and said, “Oh, gracious, we’ve intruded on your time far more than we should.”
Helena followed her to her feet and said, “I assure you there was nothing intrusive about it. I very much enjoyed our tea.”
Charlotte gave the others a look and said, “Good. Then I hope you’ll come to supper at my home in three days hence.”
Helena stared at her, surprised at the invitation. And knowing she could in no way accept it even if she wanted to. But there was no way she could pretend—past today, at least—that she belonged in the world of these women. Nor that her uncle would ever let her take even a tiny place in it.
“I—” she began, shifting with discomfort as she sought a way to refuse without offending a lady she truly liked.
Meg’s expression softened, and she stepped up to take Helena’s hand. “My dear, it’s clear you are uncomfortable and Charlotte would never in the world make you so. Just say whatever you must say and don’t fret over consequences that do not exist.”
Helena glanced over at Charlotte and found her nodding. She took a deep breath and said, “I’d love to—to join you, of course. More than anything after today. But I couldn’t…I couldn’t possibly without my…without…”
Emma nodded. “I understand. You couldn’t do it without your family.”
Charlotte wrinkled her brow. “There is a simply solution to that problem. I shall invite you all, uncle and cousin included. They needn’t know it is really you all of us wish to spend time with.”
Helena stared. “I don’t know what it is I’ve done to inspire your kindness, but it is much appreciated. I can never really speak for my uncle, but I doubt he would dare turn dow
n an invitation from such an important group.”
Charlotte smiled. “Then I am happy to trade on Ewan’s title. I will send a formal invitation as soon as I arrive home. Do your best to appear shocked and awed by it.”
Helena laughed. “I will practice.”
They moved into the foyer, where Aniston returned with the hats and gloves. As the duchesses gathered themselves, Charlotte cast Helena one more look. “It might also interest you that my brother will be in attendance to my little gathering.”
Helena fought to keep her expression calm at the quiet little explosion that had just gone off in the midst of the foyer. She had no idea why Charlotte would think to specially mention Baldwin to her. All Helena knew was that being around the duke made her…nervous. Fluttery.
“Well, I’m sure my uncle will be very happy to hear that, as well,” she managed to choke out. “Thank you again for calling.”
The carriage pulled around and the ladies said their final goodbyes, then headed out to the vehicle. Helena stepped out onto the stairs to wave them off, but as she did so, she recognized that her hand was shaking.
And that she was looking forward to seeing Baldwin again even more than she was looking forward to spending time with her new friends.
CHAPTER SIX
Baldwin ran the end of his fountain pen over the row of numbers once again, doing the sum in his head. He frowned and went through the motions again. It was no good. He could add and re-add all he liked, but the problem remained the same.
They were hemorrhaging money and there were still those three debts outstanding, poised over his head like an ever-present guillotine. He dipped his pen in ink and scrawled a number in the field, then shoved the entire pile of papers and writing instruments aside with a curse.
“That is a bad start,” Charlotte said as she breezed into his office with a smile on her face. One that was rapidly falling as she looked at him. “Is this not a good time?”
The Duke of Nothing (The 1797 Club Book 5) Page 5