Page 36 of The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady
He glanced toward the door, at Miss Barlowe who eyed him suspiciously. “And to you as well, Miss Barlowe. I regret that I was not able to enjoy your company, as well.”
“I was not informed that you were here. I was under the impression that you were coming later today,” she said, with a hard glare at her niece that even he could not miss, though when she glanced back at him, she was all softness and smiles. “I am regretful to have missed your company.”
“Perhaps then you would be more forgiving of my hasty departure should you know that I have invited Lady Barrington and yourself to my box at the theatre this coming Saturday. You will come, will you not?” James issued the invitation with a certain earnestness, for indeed he was coming to find that he reallydidwant this outing, regardless of who had to come along to make it happen.
Miss Barlowe seemed to be having difficulty in finding the appropriate words to answer. “I…well I…Lady Barrington does not…well…usually…”
“What my aunt is trying to say, is that we would love to,” Lady Barrington said, with a smile that warmed James all the way down to his toes, brooch and bargains be damned.
“I look forward to it then,” he said and bent over her hand. “You will be all right?” he asked quietly as he made his bow. His eyes went to her wrist, safely concealed within the fabric of the long gloves she wore.
“I will be all right,” she answered just as softly. “But you still owe me four calls. Not including the concert.”
“Three, with the concert,” he countered, feeling the beginnings of a smile.
“Three and a half.” They were both laughing now. James bowed again to the assembled company and took his leave.
He made it as far as the hallway. Behind him, the door to the parlor shut with a certain finality. Before him, stood the Duke of York.
“Five,” Harcourt Barrington said sourly as he regarded James from head to foot, in a gaze that let James know he’d been found wanting. “And you will take that bloody ship, if I have to force if down your gullet. Come, Sir, we have much to discuss.”
Chapter 22
“My heavens, Helena, you need to lace your stays tighter than this if you mean to attend the theatre tonight.” Phoebe shook her head from where she studied her niece from the doorway.
Helena clung to the bedpost as Tess pulled back on strings that would so bind her beneath her clothes that she would scarce be able to breathe at all. She could not see how they could possibly be pulled any tighter before she must break entirely.
“My Lady, I fail to see why you even need such a thing, so slender you are. According to the other maids, barely a one among them even bothers with a corset anymore,” Tess told her in a scandalized whisper as she tugged still harder before tying off the dratted strings.
Helena took a cautious breath and glanced back over her shoulder in triumph at her aunt. If a corset was a requirement to attending the concert, then so be it, even if she must breathe carefully as she lifted her arms to accept Tess’s help in donning the dress. The fabric settled over her form and billowed out before settling around her.
“Is it not beautiful?” she asked, turning to feel the skirt swishing against her ankles. The soft lilac decorated with deeper purple ribbons and the most darling embroidery along the waist and short sleeves felt like springtime itself. She drew on her long white gloves, wincing only a little at the healing scar, a fact with her aunt could hardly help but notice.
Phoebe clucked and shook her head. “Promise me you will not remove your gloves at all tonight. If anyone saw…”
There was no need to say more. The scandal was obvious even to Helena who had long since given up trying to argue that it had been an accident. “I would never remove my gloves in public. You must know that, do you not?” She asked, going to her aunt and taking her hands in hers.
“I know nothing of the sort; otherwise I would not say it.” Phoebe’s stern glance was softened then by a smile that was at once wistful and indulgent. “Dear child, I would not carry on so had I been sure of your actions. I have been remiss in teaching you much of what a young lady such as yourself must know. If there is a fault to be had here, it is mine.”
“The fault is as much mine as yours. I had no interest in learning, and you saw no need for me to learn. So perhaps we are to take a mutual blame.” Helena smiled and shook her head, putting her arms around her aunt in a hard embrace. “Aunt Phoebe, I am so thankful you have allowed me to go tonight. You do not mind being my chaperone?”
“Mind? How could I mind? The Duke is very generous to escort us tonight. It would have been rude to turn him down. Though you should have asked me before accepting his invitation.” Phoebe sighed a little and pushed the girl away from her. “Now go sit down and have Tess do your hair before you muss us both.”
Helena spun away from her, too excited to care that her aunt seemed uninterested in showing affection. Aunt Phoebe was not the sort to enjoy hugs, not the way Bridget did. Tonight though, let her aunt be prissy about such things. In an hour the carriage would come for them. The entire world was opening for her, and it was at once terrifying and marvelous.
“Do you think the music will be very fine?” Helena asked, settling only just barely upon the stool at the dressing table. She clasped her hands nervously in her lap, to keep from playing with the embroidery, knowing from experience how easy it was to destroy the pattern if one picked at the threads, which she must absolutely not do, no matter how restless her fingers became.
“I am sure the music will be fine, whatever it is,” her aunt informed her and turned to go. “Be sure you are not late. It would not do to keep the Duke waiting. We might leave without you.”
Tess’s eyes were wide in the mirror over Helena’s left shoulder as the door closed behind Phoebe. “Would she do that?”
“Of course not! Aunt Phoebe speaks only in jest,” Helena said with a laugh, waving off the other girl’s concern. “Now tell me how we shall do my hair. Will you put it up again, with the curls that came down over my ears?”
Tess pursed her lips, and Helena laughed. The girl so clearly wanted to surprise her but was bound to answer simply because of the position she held. “Do not tell me, Tess,” she said softly as the girl picked up the silver backed brush to smooth her hair. “I wish to be surprised.”
Helena gazed thoughtfully in the mirror as Tess fussed over her hair. The mirror distorted her view of herself, she knew this, but still, the angry marks on her face gave her pause. He had said they could enter in the dark, but Phoebe had pointed out that to do so would only draw attention to themselves. But was it possible that her face was not as terrible as she’d supposed?
Many times, over the last days, the words that the Duke of Durham had spoken regarding her deformity had echoed in her mind. He had seen worse. There was nothing seriously wrong with her. The marks upon her skin were mere blemishes. She told herself these things now as she sat nervously holding her fingers.
