by Jade Lee
Helaine stared, her food forgotten for the moment. “We are to go to Bond Street today?”
“And shop as much as our hearts desire—Robert’s treat! In fact, he has become so eccentric as to say that he would seek your advice before he visits his tailor! Imagine that! I never thought I would see the day that Robert wanted to join me in a shopping expedition. And moreover, that he wanted anyone’s advice but his own!”
“Unfair!” Robert cried. “I often seek other people’s opinion. Just not yours, brat.”
Gwen waved his comment aside and turned back to Helaine. “Is that not the most marvelous idea ever? And Robert says that not a groat shall come out of my account. My in-laws will have to foot their own bill, of course. Edward will insist upon it. But for me, I shall buy the most expensive things I can find!”
“Oh, no!” cut in Robert. “Mrs. Mortimer, promise me that you shall instill some sense into my sister. You are to teach her how to economize. How to find excellent things on a small budget.”
“Oh, no!” Gwen returned. “You cannot add stipulations now. You said you would pay for whatever I bought!”
“And I will, but—”
“So are you game, Mrs. Mortimer? Will you help me spend my brother’s money on the most exquisite items we can find?”
Helaine laughed as she reached for her tea. Indeed, how could she not when both brother and sister were acting so delightful? “Of course. I shall endeavor to find you the most beautiful items at a price that shall not damage the earldom. After all,” she added with a wink to Gwen, “he needs enough funds to buy you the most exquisite wedding present.”
Robert’s groan was comical indeed. Gwen laughed and began itemizing expensive gifts her brother could purchase. Helaine found herself quickly caught up in the siblings’ banter. Soon she was trading quips as easily as them and was eagerly looking forward to the shopping.
It wasn’t until much later that she realized how easily she had been manipulated. She had kept herself apart for the last week in this household. She had maintained her place as neither completely a servant but certainly not one of the masters. And then Robert had come back to London. Less than twelve hours later, she had stayed up most of the night with him, the staff assumed she was his lover, and now she was embarking upon a shopping expedition just as if she were one of the family. She couldn’t be any further from a servant if she’d stepped into the house as Lady Helaine.
So that made her wonder. In another twenty-four hours, just how much more of her life would change?
Chapter 16
Robert hated shopping. He despised it with the passion born of a desk covered in things he ought to be doing. He despised it like he despised standing still for twenty minutes while his tailor measured or pinned or generally annoyed him while he thought of all the things he wasn’t doing. He hated everything about it, and yet he thoroughly enjoyed the day.
He had never been on a shopping expedition with his sister. Not since he was in shortcoats, and what he remembered from that was boredom. Crushing, horrible boredom. So he had never been an adult watching women buy things, listening as they debated fabrics, accessories, or styles. And he had certainly never done it while appreciating the care that went into a female’s appearance.
They actually thought about which colors looked best on their skin, which ribbons would highlight their hair, and whether a reticule with pearls was more feminine than one with lace. And even more bizarre, he actually understood what they were talking about. Not because he cared, but because Helaine was so good at explaining things. With examples.
She spoke in undertones, as was proper, but as they moved from shop to shop, she would explain the tenets of good dressing to Gwen, pointing out those women who succeeded and those who failed. He had never spent more time looking at women in their clothing than he did that day, and he found it fascinating. He also wondered what clothing blunders he had been making every day of his life.
It wasn’t until teatime at Gunter’s that he dared ask the question. And then he got his answer from everyone but the one woman he wanted to ask.
Gwen started. “You have been a fashion blunder all your life, brother dear. But at least Father introduced you to a good tailor.”
“Really, Gwen!” exclaimed her future aunt-in-law. “Your brother is a very handsome man in his own way. You should not say such things. And certainly not in public.”
Robert would have been reassured if it were not for the words “in his own way.” He was about to ask what that meant when the mother-in-law cut in while the sister-in-law giggled into her ice.
“You are just as you ought to be, your lordship. Your aim is to be imposing, severe—”
“Pompous and overbearing,” inserted Gwen.
“Stately,” her mother-in-law corrected firmly.
When it looked like the discussion would degenerate further, Robert set down his teacup with a frown, his gaze trained on Helaine. “Do you agree, Mrs. Mortimer? Do I dress to—”
“Intimidate?” interrupted Gwen. “Yes.”
“Well, future earls should be imposing,” said the mother-in-law. “But it would be nice if you added a little bit of style to all that stateliness.”
Robert raised his eyebrows in shock. “Are you saying I dress without style?”
“Oh, no!” the woman gasped, but lest he feel better about himself, Gwen was there to insert her own set-down.
“You dress boring, brother dear. Imposing, arrogant, and boring.”
“Very boring,” echoed the sister-in-law.
His eyes found Helaine’s. “Really?”
She hedged. “Your style is reserved, my lord. It is your manner that is imposing.”
“And overbearing and—”
“Yes, Gwen. Thank you, but I know your opinion.” He looked down at himself. He wore brown today, a more casual change from his usual black. Plus a cream shirt and cravat beneath a brown waistcoat. He supposed, he realized with some shock, that he must appear rather drab. When he looked up, his gaze caught Helaine’s. “What would you recommend?”
She tilted her head, obviously thinking hard. “A waistcoat with some color.” Gwen opened her mouth to add a comment, but Helaine rushed on, cutting off his sister, thank God. “Nothing outlandish. Just a thread or two of color—red or gold, I think—to relieve the brown. And it should match your cravat, of course.”
“My cravat should match my waistcoat?” He’d always matched it to his shirt.
“Just the contrast color, my lord.”
He nodded as if he understood what that meant.
“And, if I might be so bold…,” she began, obviously hesitating.
This time Gwen would not be denied. “Pray don’t stop now!” she cried. “Not when he’s finally listening!”
Helaine waited, and when he nodded, she continued. “Jewelry, my lord.”
“The devil you say!” he exploded. “I’ll not be a dandy—” His words trailed off as the ladies burst out in giggles. Apparently the idea of him as a dandy was vastly amusing.
Fortunately for his pride, Helaine was not laughing. “A single pin for your cravat will not make you a dandy. The emerald stone looked very handsome.”
He frowned, taking a moment to remember when she had seen his emerald. Oh, the night at the inn. His eyes brightened—as did Helaine’s color—as she rushed on to cover.
“Perhaps you should get a gold design resembling the family crest? Something relatively small, but very unique. It would be stylish without—”
“Making me feel like a trussed-up popinjay?”
She raised her eyebrows, her expression half teasing. His sister was not so restrained and neither were her new in-laws, as those ladies began laughing in earnest. But that didn’t seem to matter. The other women were as noise to him, whereas Helaine’s eyes, her expression, her very being seemed to shine. With laughter, with joy, with everything that was essentially her: strength and delight. Certainly she did not always express her joy, but it
was there, peeking out beneath her otherwise restrained demeanor. Delight in who she was and what she was doing. If only life would allow her enough space and breath for her to express herself more fully.
Oh, he wanted to give her that space. He wanted to take away her cares, to lift off her burdens, and to share every moment of the carefree woman that she would become. He wanted it with an ache that burned.
His desires must have shone on his face. It must have been obvious to everyone, because their laughter faded, and the delight in Helaine’s expression became hidden again behind a mask of wariness. He’d done it again, he realized with a start. He’d frightened her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Indeed, he had arranged for this outing just so he could prove to her that they could be together without danger, without damage to her reputation or her business.
Gwen cleared her throat, obviously trying to gain his attention. From the sound of it, she’d been trying for some time. Finally he gathered his wits, ripped his gaze from Helaine’s, and turned on his sister.
“Are you quite well, Gwen? It sounds as if you are coming down with an illness.”
“I think,” she said slowly, her words carefully enunciated, “I believe you need to visit your hideout.”
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“The Chandler, you idiot. I think you need to take an afternoon to recover your wits.”
Robert felt his jaw go slack in astonishment, his mind working furiously. However had she learned about that place? It was absolutely certain that no one of his acquaintance would speak of it. Certainly not to her. Meanwhile Gwen was prattling on, directing her words toward her in-laws and Helaine.
“He has this place. I heard the coachman tell Dribbs about it. A ramshackle building where he goes to think and be by himself. As if we are such a bother to him that he needs to escape us. It’s quite the other way around, you know. We need the rest from him. And so I am telling you, brother dear, go away. Return when you are thinking more clearly.”
Robert released a slow breath. Clearly his sister didn’t know the Chandler’s sordid history. She was babbling on as if it were nothing more than a dreary gentlemen’s club. That was a relief, of course, until he chanced to look at Helaine.
She knew. He could see it in her tightened lips and downcast eyes. She knew exactly what the Chandler used to be. And she naturally came to the wrong conclusion about what he did when he went there.
“Let me explain—” He didn’t get a chance to continue.
“By all means, my lord,” Helaine said stiffly. “You have been most generous in sharing your time with us. Pray do not let us detain you.”
“It’s not what you think,” he said firmly. Then he was stuck, because all the women were looking at him, waiting for him to explain. But he couldn’t. Not in front of Gwen, who was completely ignorant of the whole of it. Certainly not in front of his future in-laws. As for Helaine, he wanted to be alone with her when he told her about that part of his life. He wanted her to know the real him, the man who did indeed love every minute he spent at the Chandler the way it was now.
But he couldn’t say it now. “Very well,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster. “I can see that you ladies wish to be rid of me. But I beg of you, Mrs. Mortimer, please spare me some time this evening after I return. I should like a word with you.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary—”
“On the contrary, I insist. Directly after dinner, if you would.” Then he belatedly realized that he sounded as if he were giving her an order. “It is a request, you know, not a demand, but I would be exceedingly grateful for your time.”
He waited for her to dip her chin in acknowledgment. It took awhile, but she finally did, so he took his leave. He had plans for tonight. Big plans. And precious little time to prepare.
It was with true dismay that Helaine realized she was an illogical, contrary creature. Not so long ago, she had walked out of an inn room intending never to speak again to Lord Redhill. And yet, not more than two days later, she had gone to stay at his house. And now, one week later, she had not only spent a very late night in conversation with him, but then proceeded to spend a lovely day shopping with him as well. And when he left them—to go to a brothel, no less—she found herself missing him quite dreadfully. He had a keen mind and actually listened to what she said. He could be quite funny when he put his mind to it and, all in all, was a delightful companion even for such a female thing as shopping.
So when he left after tea, she told herself she was glad of his absence. After all, any man who had to go to a brothel to restore his good humor was not an ideal companion. And yet, no matter how stern she was with herself, she could not keep her mind from wandering back to him. If she saw a fabric, she wondered what it would look like on him. If someone said something particularly witty, she listened for his low chuckle. And worst of all, she kept turning around to share this or that with him, only to realize he wasn’t there.
Illogical and foolish! And yet she couldn’t stop herself. Nor could she keep herself from speculating on what he could possibly want to discuss with her after dinner. But she had a job to do now, and so she continued to shop with the women until they were all dropping with fatigue.
Then a miracle happened that solved all her immediate problems: Gwen asked about dancing slippers. Helaine suggested they all retire to her shop, where she was trying out a new shoemaker. It was Penny, of course, who was still staying with Helaine’s mother. The girl had made a couple pairs of delightfully feminine shoes for Francine and so Helaine had decided to promote her work more extensively. Plus, the ladies wanted to see Irene’s shipment of Brussels lace. Irene had apparently been able to use their new lines of credit with the cloth merchants as leverage against the ship captains. What that meant was beyond Helaine’s understanding, except to know that Irene had brought the lace plus a few more bolts of silk to the shop just yesterday. And now that Francine’s father had paid her bill—the girl was apparently enjoying her new wardrobe to the fullest—Helaine could afford to buy the bolts from Irene and send the woman out for more purchases.
Success was within sight—or at least disaster was stepping farther and farther away—and that was a miracle all in itself. Now she just had to build on everything she’d put in place and make sure nothing untoward happened to disrupt it. Something unsettling and unexpected—like an evening’s discussion with a frustrating viscount. But that was tonight’s problem. For right now, everyone was in good spirits as they tromped the short distance to her shop. And while all the ladies were fitted, Helaine wrote a note to Lord Redhill delaying their after-dinner meeting. She would be staying the night at her home here, she wrote, and so would be pleased to speak with him on the morrow.
She knew she was only delaying the inevitable, but she hoped with a good night’s sleep she would have better control over her emotional state. Then she waved the ladies good-bye, spoke a few brief words with Penny, who was departing for her father’s workshop so that she could get started on the work, and then kissed her mother before disappearing into her bedroom for a well-deserved nap. Sweet heaven, it was lovely to sink into oblivion without fear of handsome men with brown coats and warm chocolate eyes. No bookkeeping, no whisper of poverty, not even hunger kept her awake. And for a few hours, she was completely ignorant of the world.
Until her mother came tapping at the door. Helaine had already been stirring. She was not a woman accustomed to naps, so a few hours of sleep had both refreshed her and left her disturbingly out of sorts. She had been thinking of Robert, of course, her mind wandering over some of their most pleasant moments, when her mother interrupted.
Helaine immediately climbed out of bed and opened the door. “Yes?”
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” her mother exclaimed as she looked at her.
“What?”
“Your dress. Your hair! Oh, even your cheeks are creased!”
Helaine was hard put to make sense of her moth
er. Of course she was creased from head to toe. She’d just woken up. Although she did manage to look down and see how badly she had damaged her dress. “I suppose I should have undressed before I lay down, but—”
“Never mind that now! Come, come. Let’s get you into something more suitable right away.”
Helaine was rubbing her eyes when her mother all but shoved her back into the bedroom, efficiently stripping off her gown.
“What—ow!”
Never had she met a woman who could both strip her of her clothing and brush her hair at once. Her mother was a miracle of efficiency, if only she’d managed to pull out the pins from her hair first.
“Oh, bother!” Her mother pressed the brush into Helaine’s hand. “You finish with your hair. I’ll get you a better gown.”
“But—”
“Brush!”
Helaine did as she was commanded, quickly unpinning her hair. “Why am I rushing to look acceptable?” she asked. She had planned a quiet evening at home.
“Because he is here. Said you had an appointment.”
No need to think who “he” was. It was Robert, of course, and she released her breath in a huff. “I told him I would speak to him tomorrow.”
“Brush! And step into this.” Her mother was holding out the very same dress she’d worn the week before to the inn.
“I can’t wear that! I wore it the last time he was here.”
“Oh! Oh, yes.” Her mother quickly spun around, dropping the dress as she rushed out of the room. She returned a moment later with a winter gown of deepest blue velvet. “You shall just have to wear one of mine, then.”
“But you’re smaller—”
“Ssst! You cannot refuse him, Helaine, no matter what you told him. You began this path. You cannot turn him away so rudely now. And if this is a little tight on you, then all the better.”