Tonight was no exception. She wished Juliet were here to bolster her spirits—but Juliet had not come out yet, and so hadn’t been allowed to attend the ball. Instead, Helena listened to Rosalind engage yet another gossiping matron in conversation.
She smiled at her sister’s deft lies. Rosalind chattered on, discussing what they’d been doing, how tedious the country was, anything to make it seem as if Juliet and Helena had not left Warwickshire until their appearance in London a week ago. It was easy to see how Rosalind had succeeded as an actress for her brief stint on the stage.
“And did you hear about the new Baron Templemore?” the gossiping matron commented. “He’s just come into the title, and you should see how shamelessly Lady Feathering
has been shoving her daughters at him. He’s quite the handsome mystery man. Have you met him?”
Rosalind and Helena exchanged glances. At the moment handsome mystery men were not high on their lists. “We haven’t had that pleasure,” Rosalind replied. “I’ve heard quite a lot about him in the past week, but he never seems to be at the same functions we are.”
The matron’s gaze flicked briefly to Helena. “Well, I’ll be sure to introduce you and your lovely sisters if I have the chance. Though I don’t suppose they need any help from
me
, what with the hordes of men scrambling after them this week.”
As soon as the matron walked away, Rosalind chuckled and murmured, “Shall we go sample the ratafia before the hordes of men descend on you?”
Helena raised an eyebrow. “That woman is certainly prone to exaggeration.”
“Not entirely. You must admit there’s been a steady procession of gentlemen wishing to be introduced to you. They fall all over themselves trying to fetch you punch and engage you in conversation. You’ve been the belle of the ball
everywhere
, you and Juliet.”
“Juliet perhaps, but not me and not here. One can hardly be the belle of the ball when one cannot dance.”
“It hasn’t stopped anyone from seeking you out.”
That was true actually, and she found it surprising. “I suppose now that Griff has provided us with portions—”
“Nobody knows about that yet. I’ve been too busy trying to repair your reputations to bother mentioning your eligibility.”
“What?” Helena spotted a couple of gentlemen she’d already met headed their way, and groaned. She wasn’t ready to end this intriguing conversation. Swiftly, she
tugged Rosalind into a nearby alcove. “If that’s true, then why are the men pursuing me? And after all these years—are London gentlemen so much more desperate than Stratford gentlemen?”
Rosalind laughed. “It’s not the gentlemen, silly, it’s
you
. You were always so wretched to the ones in Stratford. If a man dared approach, you froze him with a look and he backed down. You were so determined not to trust them that you never gave them the chance to be nice.”
A faint smile touched Helena’s lips. “Funny, but Daniel said much the same thing to me once.”
“Did he?” Rosalind eyed her with keen curiosity. “He seems to have said a great many interesting things to you on your trip. I’ve never heard you speak so much about a man in your life. Even Lord Farnsworth.”
“Trust me, Daniel is ten times the man Fickle Farnsworth ever was.”
“F-Fickle Farnsworth?” Rosalind sputtered. “Now I
know
you’ve changed. You would never have referred to his lordship so cavalierly a month ago.” Rosalind searched her face. “And I suppose Daniel is the reason you’ve been different since you returned.”
Helena blushed and ducked her head. “How am I different?”
“More comfortable with yourself. Breaking Mrs. N’s rules right and left. For pity’s sake, yesterday at dinner you asked for ale! Griff nearly choked on his mutton.”
Helena laughed. “I did enjoy that.”
“And you’re more comfortable with men, too.” Rosalind grinned. “You can still put a man in his place when he needs it, but you’re far kinder to the ones who don’t. And you finally seem able to tell which is which.”
Helena’s throat tightened. All these years of loneliness, of shutting herself off from people—how much of
it had been due to her own blindness? And from fear that if she let them close, they’d reject her for more than her leg. She’d allowed Fickle Farnsworth’s dreadful behavior to convince her she was unsuitable for marriage, then had set out to prove it by driving away every man who approached.
She had Daniel to thank for knocking the scales from her eyes. She had Daniel to thank for a great many things.
If only he would come home so she could do it.
Rosalind moved out of the alcove. “Come on. We can’t hide in here avoiding people all night.”
“Why not?” Helena grumbled as she followed her sister. Now that all the gentlemen seemed to want her, she found she did not want any of them. Oh, they were perfectly nice, she supposed, but compared to Daniel, they were as dull and colorless as a charcoal sketch next to a finished portrait in oils. She needed his vibrance in her life. Without Daniel, even flouting the proprieties was no fun.
As they circled the room, a young gentleman approached who looked vaguely familiar. It was only when he was upon them that she realized why. Oh, dear—it was the duke from Daniel’s office, the one person who knew she had not just come up from the country a week ago. Would he recognize her?
“Lady Rosalind!” he said to her sister. “How good to see you again.”
“The pleasure is mine, your grace,” Rosalind replied. “But I don’t believe you’ve met my sister. Helena, this is the Duke of Montfort.”
“How do you do?” Helena mumbled as she held out her hand.
He took it, a frown knitting his brow. “Actually, I believe I
have
met your sister. I’m almost certain of it.” He
studied her features. “Was it at Marlborough’s breakfast last month? I seem to recall that we met during the day.”
“Not last month,” Rosalind said. “She only arrived from the country last week.”
He hesitated. Then he glanced to her cane, and his frown deepened. “But I have the strongest memory…” He still held her hand, and instead of relinquishing it, said, “Lady Helena, have you had the opportunity to see Rushton’s conservatory yet?”
Her pulse raced fearfully, “No, I’m afraid not.”
“Then you must let me show it to you. It will give us the chance to figure out why I think I know you.”
She groaned inwardly. Of all the people she had to run into, must it be the one person who could put the lie to Rosalind’s claims? And a rake as well, judging from what Daniel had said about him. Still, for her sisters’ sakes, she would try to muddy his memory about her further.
Letting him tuck her hand into his bent elbow, she said, “Certainly, your grace. I’d be honored.”
When Daniel arrived at the Rushton place, after Griff’s butler had told him where Helena and the Knightons had gone, he groaned to see the crowd spilling out into the foyer. Wonderful. Just what he needed when all he wanted was to find Helena, and drag her into the garden or somewhere else private where he could kiss her senseless.
He probably shouldn’t have come here anyway. A proper gentleman would have waited until the morrow to call on her. A proper gentleman wouldn’t have rushed to dress himself and race over here like a besotted idiot.
But then, he wasn’t a proper gentleman—and he’d certainly come to the right place for reminding him of it. De
spite his clothes, he felt like a hound among the lapdogs. In the office, it never bothered him, but here…
He sighed. He’d best get used to it. This was Helena’s world, and when they married—
if
she still wanted to, after all this—he’d be spending a great deal of time in it.
That was all right, though. The last hellish week of dealing with his troublesome uncle had taught him one thing: he wanted Helena for his wife, come what may. He loved her strength and courage, her easy acceptance of his past, and even her stubbornness. And if marrying her meant enduring balls every night of his life, he would gladly endure them.
But he wasn’t certain she’d have him. Back in familiar surroundings, she might’ve decided she didn’t want a great rascal like him after all. Being among her own kind might’ve reminded her of the disadvantages to marrying his sort of man, one without title or prominence, lofty name or family connections.
That fear had been a crushing weight on his chest for days. Strange how he’d felt not a whit of fear while confronting Crouch and his men, yet the thought of losing one slender woman could strike him with pure terror.
He sighed. It only got worse the longer he dallied. He squared his shoulders and set off to look for her. But it was Rosalind he found first.
As soon as he neared her, she broke into a grin. “Daniel! You’re back!”
“Yes. Just arrived, in fact.”
He kissed the cheek she offered, then glanced about impatiently. “Where’s Helena?”
Rosalind laughed. “Why, Daniel Brennan, you ought to be ashamed of yourself—asking about my sister before I’ve even had the chance to talk to you.”
“Forgive me,” he said with a pained smile. “It’s just that I’m anxious to see her.”
“You could’ve fooled me. You were supposed to return days ago, or at least that’s what she expected.”
“So did I. But matters were more complicated than I’d allowed for.” Crouch had delayed at every turn, refusing to leave England until he called in all his markers with people who owed him money. When the list kept growing, Daniel had finally threatened him with bodily harm and tossed him unceremoniously onto a packet boat to France. “And how is she? Is she all right? I saw Juliet briefly at Knighton House and she appeared to be fine, but she told me little about Helena.”
“Helena’s doing quite well, actually. We’ve been scurrying about, trying to make sure she suffered no loss to her reputation after you dragged her around the countryside unchaperoned.” The reproof in her voice was unmistakable. “We’ve been attending parties and balls and the like. She’s been very popular.” She paused, one eyebrow lifting. “Especially with men. They flock to her like magpies. I spend all my time shooing them off.”
His breath caught in his throat. “Do you?” he said hollowly. “That doesn’t surprise me. Any man would be a fool not to recognize your sister’s charms.”
“True, but until now she’s done her best to hide them. She’s been different since her return. What on earth did you do to her?”
Showed her what a lovely woman she is, that’s all
, he thought grimly.
And now that she’s discovered it, what need has she of me?
“What did
she
say I’d done to her?” he evaded.
“She wouldn’t talk about it—absolutely refused to discuss you until you were back.”
The pressure in his chest increased. That didn’t have to
mean anything. Helena was a cautious woman, not the sort to announce an engagement until she was sure of her position. And he hadn’t exactly left her with the assurance that he still intended to marry her. All the same…
To his chagrin, Griff joined them at that moment. “Ah, so the prodigal has finally returned.”
Daniel gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted right now was to stand here relating to Griff all that had happened, even if it did concern him. “As I was just telling your wife, I’m looking for Helena. She and I have some matters to discuss. You and I can talk later.”
“Rather eager to find her, are you?” Griff smirked at him. “I seem to recall a conversation you and I had about Helena at my wedding.”
Daniel groaned, remembering Griff’s comments about how he should court Helena, and his saying he wouldn’t want a “stiff-rumped” lass like that for a wife, even if she would have him. It had been a lie even then, and now it was painfully ironic.
Apparently judging that his arrow had hit the mark, Griff went on gleefully. “And judging from that intriguing sketch of you—”
“Sketch?”
“The one you sent with Seth. The one that shows you reclining on a bed half-dressed.”
“Oh,
that
sketch.” Bloody hell.
“As I was saying,” Griff went on, “judging from Helena’s sketch, which she refuses to discuss, I gather you’ve changed your opinion of her somewhat in recent days.”
“You could say that,” Daniel muttered, alarmed by the idea of Helena’s not discussing something as damning as that sketch of him. What the devil did it mean? He had to find her, talk to her, but as he scanned the room he didn’t see her at all. “Damn it, where
is
she anyway?”
Rosalind took pity on him and pointed toward an open set of doors. “She’s taking a tour of the conservatory with the Duke of Montfort.”
“Montfort!” Yes, he could easily imagine that randy rogue wanting to get Helena off alone. Montfort thought he could have any woman he wished—because he often did.
But he would not have Helena.
Daniel started to stalk off without a word, but Griff caught his arm, suddenly serious. “Listen to me, Daniel. You once took great umbrage at how I treated Rosalind, and with good reason. But so help me God, if you mistreat her sister—”
“I’ve no intention of that, believe me.” He shrugged off Griff’s arm, but when he saw Rosalind watching him anxiously, he tamped down his impatience. “You said something else to me at your wedding, too, how you couldn’t wait for the day when you saw me in hell pining after a woman and unsure of her answer.” He swallowed his pride and went on. “Well, that day has come, my friend. So you can either prolong my hell or give me the chance to fight my way out of it. Which is it to be?”
Griff broke into a grin. “Considering how you tormented me throughout my pursuit of Rosalind, the idea of prolonging your hell does sound tempting.”
“Don’t you
dare,
Griff Knighton,” Rosalind broke in. She beamed at Daniel. “Go on, and quickly, before my fool of a husband ruins everything.”
Casting her a grateful glance, Daniel hurried toward the doors she indicated. He could hear Griff protesting that he wasn’t trying to ruin anything and Rosalind making some hot reply, but he didn’t stay to hear what it was. The servants who were standing by directed him to the conservatory, and it took him only moments to find Helena and Montfort.