Page 35 of The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady
“No. I saw true disease of the skin. Leprosy Plague. This…this is a minor thing. A discomfort I am sure, but there is nothing sinister in it. Forgive me for being so blunt, but such diseases are accompanied by a certain look, a certain smell. And you…you smell like strawberries and roses.”
Judging from the way she blushed, he guessed he perhaps should not have said that either. He concentrated on his cake, though he could not have told a soul afterwards what it tasted like.
“I suppose I should thank you for that. I…I do not know what to think. There was…” she sighed and stared at her plate. She’d barely touched her food. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I’m the one who is not good company today. Perhaps I should go.” She started to rise.
James had been furious when he had been ordered to come here to this place, but right now all he could think was how loath he was to let her go. The sadness in her eyes, in her voice…the way she was so terribly unsure — not just about how to conduct a call, but how to even eat in the company of another soul, spoke of her isolation. For a moment he was furious at the family that had kept her so locked away from the world.
It is perhaps for her protection,he reminded himself. In his travels he had seen how the world reacted to what was different. And those of the ton would be less forgiving to one such as she. But it was unfair, and he knew it to be so. For he enjoyed her exuberant nature and the way she embraced new experiences. And how hard she fought for what she wanted.
“Please stay,” he said, catching at her before she could escape, a hand upon her arm that he belatedly realized was the injured one when he saw her wince. “Please.” For a moment he panicked, wondering if her fleeing a second time from him would likewise end badly for her and could not bear to let her go.
“I am not good company, I fear,” she said, but she at least lifted her head and he saw her there, the frightened child in the depths of her eyes, so damaged and hurt that he wanted nothing more than to find every person in her world that had left her so, that he might render them impotent and harmless, that she might never be hurt again.
“You are excellent company,” he said, and his smile was gentle. Cautious. “Besides, I was wishing that I might speak to you about this weekend. I wish to keep a promise to you.”
Her eyes lit up, a spark of life that ignited, an excitement that left a fine tremor through her body as she regarded him. “What promise? Another call?”
“Better than another call. An outing.”
If he’d expected her to be excited at the prospect, he was sorely wrong. She flinched as if struck. “If you are making sport of me, then I find your cruel invitation not funny in the least.”
“I am most in earnest. More so than I have ever been in my life. You might take your Bridget with you,” he said, with a nod toward the slumbering chaperone whose head had fallen back, her mouth gaping open issuing forth with some rather impressive snores.
“I should wake her…” Helena said, uncertainly, laying her plate on the table next to the settee and rising.
“A moment.” James rose with her as manners dictated, speaking earnestly, quietly. “Let us settle this. I am truly in earnest. I wish nothing more than to take you to the concert this coming weekend. It shall be a small gathering in a local theatre. If you are concerned for your appearance, I see nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll have you know, I find you beautiful.”
“Beautiful! In spite of such a face?” she asked, her tone harsh and mocking.
“Beautiful already. Just as you are. Though you will not believe that, and it’s highly improper for me to say it.” James murmured. “I would be proud to escort you that night. If it bothers you so much, we will arrive late when the theatre is already darkened and leave early before the press of people becomes so great. Though I hardly think either actions are necessary.”
Helena bit her lip. “You are in earnest?”
“I have never been so earnest in all my life.” He stared at her, willing her to see the truth in his eyes.
“I would have to include my aunt I should think, as chaperone,” she said thoughtfully, biting at her thumbnail. “But I think Papa would allow it.”
“I will talk to him myself,” James declared though from the tone of the letter he’d received he had no call to be quite so confident as all that. The Duke of York had been furious, he was sure. No one was that terse in a letter without a great deal of subtext hidden between the lines. The very blankness of the paper had held an entire universe of subtext, James was sure.
“I did not think our arrangement included outings…” Helena said, her expression thoughtful. “One could extrapolate from that that we would still have four calls owed then after today.”
“Or three,” he countered, motioning again for her to be seated.
“I should think four, at the very least,” Helena murmured, settling herself again on the settee and taking up her plate.
“Or two after the concert if we are counting with any kind of accuracy.” He glanced toward the tea cart. “Might I freshen your cup?”
“Three and a half. And yes, Your Grace, I would like that immensely,” she said, quickly and when their eyes met, they laughed.
I should be mad. I should be furious. But when I am with her, I am not. In fact, I find myself standing here doing ridiculous things I have never before done in my life. Pouring tea. Negotiating social calls as though I am gambling down at my club.
James shook his head, but took her cup all the same, and pouring Lady Barrington a fresh cup with a steadier hand than the first time. He was just turning back to deliver the beverage with a certain feeling of pride and accomplishment that he had never heretofore felt, when the door opened suddenly, admitting a gust of cold air from the hall, and one rather put out young aunt who stood a long moment, staring at the tableau with her mouth agape.
Bridget startled awake at that moment, likewise taking in the scene — Lady Barrington seated on the settee with James handing her a cup of freshly poured tea — and rising up with a certain amount of consternation and a hearty dose of fear in her eyes.
James ascertained immediately the way this particular wind was about to blow and immediately reached into his waistcoat, withdrawing his timepiece and frowning over it. “You are indeed right, Lady Barrington, it is nearly time to meet with your father. I appreciate your holding my tea for me.”
With that, he took the cup back from her hand and took a long drink from it, though it was far too sweet for his tastes entirely. The cup drained dry he set it on the table and bowed first to Lady Barrington, and then to Bridget who looked at him gratefully as he rose. “I do apologize for my boorish manners. If I were not in such haste, I would stay and finish this call more properly.”
