An Innocent Debutante in Hanover Square

by Anne Herries

  ‘Yes, I am aware of that,’ Helene said, her manner strained. She looked down, because she could not bear to see the glow fade from his eyes. She could not doubt that he liked her, but marriage was out of the question. ‘If it were possible for me to marry, I should have considered it and I think it might have made me happy.’ Her voice was close to breaking, but she held her misery inside, pride making her lift her head though she could not meet his gaze. ‘However, it is impossible. Circumstances—there are reasons why I shall never marry. It is quite impossible.’

  ‘Would you care to tell me those reasons, Helene?’

  Something in his tone compelled her to look at him. ‘I am unable to do so, for they concern others, as well as myself,’ she said, her composure remarkable considering the rending pain in her heart. This was the hardest thing she had ever had to do! It hurt her so very much. ‘I am sorry…’

  ‘You need not apologise to me,’ Max said, and his eyes were once again intent on her face. ‘I must tell you that I shall be leaving town shortly. I have to pay a visit to my estate. I may not be back for some days.’ He hesitated, then, ‘In the matter of a position of the kind you envisage…I may have an opportunity in the future. If you were willing to receive me when I return, I could have some news that might interest you. If you are quite determined on your future?’

  ‘I am certain that it is for the best,’ Helene said and swallowed hard. She could see the others had turned to look at them. ‘I believe Amelia and the others are waiting for us. I dare say they are ready for their supper.’

  ‘And I am remiss in my duties as the host,’ Max said. ‘Please do not be distressed by anything that has occurred this evening, Miss Henderson. I hope that we shall continue as friends?’

  Helene murmured something appropriate. He had taken her at her word and seemed to have recovered easily from his first shock and anger. Perhaps he had not truly cared for her at all, merely thinking her a suitable wife. If that were the case, he would soon forget her and turn his attentions to another young lady.

  Max watched Helene for the remainder of the evening. She hid her emotions well, but he sensed her distress, though he did not know the reasons for it. Her prompt action in preventing him from speaking had saved them both embarrassment, but he did not think that she was embarrassed. Something else was making her look sad whenever she thought herself unobserved.

  She conducted herself well throughout supper and the remainder of the evening, though she declined to dance with Toby when he asked. Max thought it might be that she did not wish to dance with him and had made some excuse about having eaten too much supper. She had eaten only a few mouthfuls and was clearly ill at ease, though when the firework display began she seemed to forget for a while and her delight was genuine. Once she turned to him and smiled when a particularly fine display made her clap her hands.

  ‘Oh, this is so much fun. Thank you for bringing me, sir.’

  ‘It was my pleasure.’

  Max wished that he had waited to speak. He had arranged the evening for her pleasure and then spoiled it for her. It might be that she was frightened because she did not know him well enough—and yet he did not believe that anything truly frightened her. What reasons could she possibly have for saying that it was impossible for her to marry?

  His emotions were mixed: anger, disappointment and hurt pride warring in his mind. Yet, despite his feelings, something was telling him that Helene’s distress was at least as great as his own.

  He knew that ladies often said no the first time in the hope that they would be asked again, or by someone more important or richer. However, he acquitted Helene of playing games or of hanging out for a more prestigious title. She genuinely believed that she ought not to marry—but why?

  He had told her that he would be out of town on impulse, wanting to give them both a breathing space before they met again, but it made sense. He had delayed his journey because he wished to continue his friendship with Helene. Now was surely the right time to make the visit to his home and to think about the future. Helene’s refusal had made Max all the more certain that she was the only woman he wished to marry.

  Damn it! He would not give up at the first fence. If he withdrew because his feelings were hurt, he would be a fool. If Helene had a problem, he would do what he could to discover it and see if it could perhaps be solved in some way.

  Helene had no way of knowing Max’s thoughts. She had managed to put on a brave face all evening, but alone in her room later that night she gave way to tears. Oh, how awful it all was! Had she been able to accept Max’s proposal, she would have been the happiest of women! If she had been in any doubt of her feelings for him, she was clear now. She loved him so much that it had broken her heart to refuse him—at least, to prevent him from speaking. It would have been cruel and heartless of her to allow him to continue knowing what her answer must be. If only the Duke of Annesdale had never come to town! If she had controlled her damnable temper…

  Helene cried herself to sleep at last.

  Her dreams had been wild and made her toss and turn, crying out in anguish. She awoke, shaking, for she had seen Max lying on the ground with blood seeping from a wound to his chest. The dream was vivid, leaving her cold and frightened.

  ‘No…oh, no,’ she wept. It was a foolish dream—there was no reason to suppose that the rogue who had fired at him in Richmond park would do so again. Surely it had been just someone intent on robbery or some such thing? Helene forced herself to put the dream to the back of her mind, for there was nothing she could do and it was merely a dream.

  She washed her face, dressing herself in one of her plainest gowns. She went downstairs and found her way into the walled gardens at the back of the house. It was very warm again and she thought it might turn out to be one of the hottest days of the year so far. She knew that she had engagements for most of the day. At some time during the day she must speak to Mama—beg her to take her home. Max had told her that he would call when he returned to town and perhaps have news of a position for her, but she did not think she could bear to work for him. It would mean she would have to see him, talk to him—and all the time she would be conscious of what she had lost. It would be best to make a clean break.

  Perhaps Amelia would be willing to offer her a position? If Mama could come, too, it would be better for her than living in her brother’s house—if she did not wish to, then Helene would take the position herself. If Amelia could not help her, she must either seek work as a governess or advertise for the kind of position she would most enjoy.

  She hoped that she would not have to meet Max in company again, because to see that look of disapproval in his eyes would break her heart. She sighed as she went back upstairs. She must get ready for her first engagement of the day, and if her mama were awake she would tell her that she wished to go home as soon as possible.

  ‘Go home? Why, Helene?’ Mrs Henderson was sitting propped up against a pile of pillows, a tray of chocolate and soft rolls with honey beside her. ‘We have at least another three weeks in town. It would seem rude if we were to break all our engagements and leave. No, we shall most certainly not go home, Helene.’

  ‘We may be forced to…’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I visited Lady Annersley yesterday morning, Mama. The Duke of Annesdale is staying with her and he came into the room. He offered to make me his heir if I would live with him and abandon you. I told him that I wanted nothing to do with him—I am afraid we quarrelled dreadfully.’

  ‘Helene!’ Mrs Henderson looked at her in horror. ‘You should not have done it, really you should not. You should at least have considered, dearest. You would have clothes, jewels and consequence—all the things I cannot give you. You would be foolish to give all that up.’

  ‘Do you think those things mean anything to me? Had he offered us both a home with him I should have thought him generous and kind, but he made it plain you would not be included in our world, though he did say he�
��d grant you a comfortable home to stay in. You are my mama and I love you. I would not live with that man now if he were the last man alive!’

  ‘He could have given you so much, Helene,’ Mrs Henderson told her. ‘Sometimes I have felt so guilty for denying you what might have been yours—but your father would have nothing to do with the family after the way they treated me, and I could not betray his memory.’

  ‘And nor shall I,’ Helene said. ‘But I think we should go home, Mama. The duke was furious when I refused his offer. If he were to cut us in public, it might be uncomfortable, for some people would be sure to take his side.’

  ‘But your only chance of a future is to marry well, Helene.’

  ‘I have decided I shall not marry. Instead, I shall seek a position as a housekeeper in a children’s home. I shall ask for Amelia’s help to find a place.’

  ‘Helene, please do not! You are behaving very foolishly. I am sure that some of our friends would remain loyal and you might still marry well. Lord Coleridge—’

  ‘No! It is impossible. He is too close to the duke.’

  ‘But a position as a teacher…it is not what I wanted for you.’

  ‘Mama, I must do something. I cannot continue to live at my uncle’s expense—and I would prefer not to be married at all.’

  ‘But you like Lord Coleridge. I know you do.’ Mrs Henderson looked at her in distress. ‘I know I have warned you against him, but if the marriage was arranged perhaps the duke would relent.’

  ‘Lord Coleridge was about to ask me last night, but I told him I could not marry.’

  ‘Helene! Why did you do such a foolish thing? I do not understand you.’

  ‘The duke said that he had planned to leave the Annesdale estate to Max, but would disinherit him if I accepted an offer of marriage. I could not cause a breach between them, Mama.’

  ‘Oh, Helene…I am so sorry. I have ruined your life…’ She reached for a kerchief and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Forgive me, my love. I have always disliked that man, but I did not imagine even he would be so vindictive.’

  ‘I made him angry, Mama.’

  ‘I warned you to be careful.’

  ‘I know, but he made me so angry—the things he said…’ Helene’s head went up, her eyes moist with tears she would not shed. ‘I should not have lost my temper, but it is done and there is nothing I can do to change it. I have made up my mind, Mama. I cannot marry Lord Coleridge and I shall marry no other.’

  ‘Helene, dearest,’ Mrs Henderson said, ‘there are other gentlemen…you might find one you could care for if you gave yourself time.’

  ‘Perhaps one day, when I have forgotten all this unhappiness,’ Helene said. ‘I know this is hard for you, Mama, but I think it is for the best.’

  ‘Give me a few more days,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘I have longed for this visit for your sake, Helene. I have dreamed of seeing you as the wife of a good man with a home and family of your own—let me come round to your new idea gradually.’

  ‘Very well, Mama—a few more days,’ Helene agreed reluctantly. ‘But please understand that I shall not marry anyone—and if you prefer to return to my uncle’s house, I shall find work for myself alone.’

  Helene returned from her walk with friends to discover that a posy of roses had been left for her in her absence. The note said that they were from Mr Nicholas Bradwell, and asked if he might call on her in two days’ time.

  Helene frowned as she took the flowers to her room. She poured some water into a silver vase and arranged them on the dressing table. She had just set them down when her mama walked in.

  ‘The roses are lovely,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘Who sent them to you, my love?’

  ‘Mr Bradwell.’ Helene frowned at her. ‘He has asked if he may call the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘I am sure he means to offer for you,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘Would you not consider taking him, Helene? It would be so much better for us both. I do not wish to live with Edgar—nor do I wish to become the matron at a children’s home.’

  ‘I am sorry, Mama. I could not bear to marry Mr Bradwell, even for your sake. I really could not.’

  ‘Perhaps you need not give up all hope of Lord Coleridge. I have written to the duke and begged him to forgive you.’

  ‘Mama!’ Helene stared at her in horror. ‘How could you do such a thing to me? I would never have asked him to relent. You know that I would not.’

  ‘Perhaps you should give him what he wants?’ her mother suggested. ‘I have refused him for the sake of your father’s memory, but perhaps I was wrong.’

  ‘Never say such a thing again! I shall not give him what he wants and I shall write and tell him that you did not have my permission to write as you did.’

  ‘Then marry Mr Bradwell. It must be either one or the other. You are my daughter and I shall not give you permission to work as a governess or a housekeeper.’

  Helene stared after her as she walked from the room. She sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling sick. How could Mama make such a threat—and what was she to do?

  Mama did not truly mean it! She was distressed and Helene did not blame her for her little show of temper. Neither of them wished to return to live under Uncle Edgar’s roof again. The only alternative was for Helene to find work. Mama might resist the idea, but she would relent in time—because Helene would never consent to marry Mr Bradwell.

  ‘I am going down to my estate in the morning,’ Max told Toby as they sat drinking a glass of wine together that afternoon. ‘I asked Gerard if he would care to come, but he has other things on his mind for the moment. I do not suppose you would care to accompany me?’

  ‘It would be my pleasure,’ Toby replied. ‘I can stay for a few days, and then I should go home. Mama says there is something she needs to discuss with me, but it is not urgent.’ He frowned. ‘You have something on your mind, I think?’

  ‘I had a letter some while back,’ Max told him. ‘It has disturbed me and I think I ought to make some inquiries. And then there was the attack on me in the park…’

  ‘You have had no more incidents?’

  ‘None. I am not even certain that the shot was meant for me—though it certainly passed close by. My agents have discovered nothing, and I have searched my mind for a name, someone I have offended. I can think of no one who would want me dead or who could benefit from my death…’

  ‘Except your cousin. I believe you told me that, as things stand, he would inherit everything?’

  ‘Yes…though I have left a letter of intent should I die violently or in mysterious circumstances.’

  ‘He does not know this?’

  ‘No. I might make Robert aware of what I have done. It depends on how I find him—and if there is any truth in what my neighbour wrote to me.’

  ‘Do you care to tell me what the letter contained?’

  Max looked at him thoughtfully, then got up and went to the drawer. He opened it and took out the letter, handing it to Toby. The younger man read it through and whistled.

  ‘These are serious accusations, Max. He does not lay the blame on anyone, but you can see where his thinking lies.’

  ‘It seems that my cousin may have been behind these vicious attacks on young women,’ Max said and frowned. ‘I have to discover what I can. The attacks might go on—and I need to know the truth.’

  ‘It is very odd that they should have begun just after your cousin moved into the dower house. Who else lives with him?’

  ‘My aunt and her physician. He is a gentleman and seems everything he ought. I do not like him—his manner is too smooth—but he does not look like a man who would attack young girls. I would have thought he would not find it difficult to find a willing wench if he chose.’

  ‘But your cousin… It is a serious charge, Coleridge.’

  ‘One that I should not bring lightly,’ Max agreed. ‘The devil is in it either way, Toby! I have decided that I must discover the truth. Besides, I have some serious thinking to do about the
future—and I shall do it best out of town.’

  ‘Yes…’ Toby looked thoughtful. ‘I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes it is hard to make your choice when you are too close to things.’

  ‘That sounds as if you have a decision of your own to make, Toby?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ Toby replied and shook his head. ‘It will keep for the time being. Your problems are more pressing than mine, Max. I am at your service. I may not have served under Wellington, but I am pretty handy with a pistol.’

  ‘I pray that it will not come to that,’ Max said and laughed. ‘I am thinking of spending the evening at White’s—do you care to come or have you another appointment?’

  ‘I said I might look in at Lady Annersley’s soirée, but I don’t care if I give it a miss.’

  ‘The duke is staying with her. I know that people think him stiff in the neck—and he did cut his youngest son off without a penny when he married a girl of whom he disapproved. However, I believe that he has suffered for it. He was great friends with Father and has always been good to me. I had a letter from him yesterday, asking me to call today, but I have not had the time. I must do so as soon as I return to town, however.’

  ‘Unfortunate business, that—cutting his son out of his will,’ Toby said. ‘I should not care to be in that position, but it would not happen. My father would give me a lecture and then accept my decision.’

  ‘Quite right, too,’ Max said and smiled at him. ‘Thinking of putting him to the test any time soon?’

  ‘I am not sure,’ Toby said, trying to look innocent, but failing badly. ‘I have a call to make, Max. I’ll see you at White’s later.’

  Max nodded. He frowned as his visitor left. His agents had come up with nothing in the matter of the attack on him, but before he left town he would set them another puzzle to solve.

  Helene frowned as she looked through the notes on the salver in the hall and found one addressed to her. She did not recognise the hand, but when she turned it she saw that it had been sealed with the crest of Annesdale. She thrust it into her glove as she went upstairs. She had written to the duke, as she had told her mama she would—was this his reply? She had hoped that he would simply ignore both letters and she wondered if it would be best to destroy the letter without reading it.