Page 48 of The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady
“Allow me.” James offered her his own napkin to blot at the stains upon her fingertips. The touch was too intimate as their hands brushed, and she glanced at him, startled, taking the cloth with her breath somehow becoming so trapped within her chest that she could not remember how to expel it again.
“Helena perhaps it would be best if you went upstairs to change…” Phoebe said, glancing over in dismay, even as the servants moved forward as one to whisk away the bowl and to place a fresh setting before her.
“Nonsense. Let the girl have her meal. She looks as though a strong wind would blow her away,” her father said, bending to his own soup as though the world had not just come crashing to an end at the two places down from his left.
“I…” Helena disliked these moments, where she became caught between father and aunt. Go or stay? She twisted the napkin in her hand, suddenly unsure.
“I would like very much for you to stay. It is only a little soup,” James said from beside her.
She stared at him, wondering when he had become ‘James’ in her mind, and not the Duke or Durham. Oh, was her heart already so imperiled?
“I…I am most sorry, Father,” she said finally, rising quickly from the table before she could change her mind. “If you would all excuse me.”
She curtseyed prettily, noting that her aunt seemed well satisfied with her response, which meant she had to be doing something right. Her father didn’t understand the niceties of high society perhaps. But then he had spent many long years at sea. He could perhaps be forgiven. But James…no, theDuke of Durhamwould know, and it was his opinion that mattered.
It should not matter. She was going to set this entire affair straight as quickly as she could.
But not now.
Helena drew herself up, and with a somewhat strained smile, she somehow managed to find the ability to move her feet toward the door, and from there into the hall, and up the stairs to her room.
To her credit, she didn’t cry until she got there. Nor did she allow herself the luxury of the tears for very long. It was with grim determination that she stripped the soiled gloves from her hands and went again to her desk where she pulled out a sheet of foolscap and began to write.
Much as she hadn’t realized it at the time, Tess had given her an idea. While it seemed ridiculous to send a letter to someone within her own house, a note would not be amiss, especially one asking him to speak with her privately before dinner.
Helena frowned. She would need Bridget to act as chaperone for it would not be proper to be caught alone with the James.The Duke,she told herself firmly.
With firm resolve, she dipped her pen into the inkwell and began.
My Lord Duke,
Please do me the honor of a moment of your time. I will expect you in the sitting room a half hour before dinner. I feel there is a matter that we must resolve between us regarding our relationship so long as we remain under the same roof.’
Chapter 31
Miss Barlowe was nothing if not persistent. “Your Grace, have some dessert. We grow the strawberries ourselves in our own conservatory. Lady Barrington loves them so.”
“No…thank you, ’Tis very kind, but I never could abide them myself.” He stifled a sigh as he stared at his dessert, an apple tart graced with a single small strawberry as a garnish and wondered how a meal so simple as a ladies’ luncheon had become so utterly complicated.
But then, he had always thought of the meal as light, but the Duke had somehow arranged for this to become a meal more in keeping with what he would have gotten at his club, right down to the chicken.
“Splendid idea this. It is a rare treat to enjoy a pretty face alongside a hearty midday meal!” the Duke said, throwing down a chicken bone and sitting back with a loud belch that caused Miss Barlowe not only flinch but turn a shade paler. “We shall have to do this again!”
Miss Barlow’s smile came off a little desperate as she looked at James. “It would be a welcome distraction, for as long as you are here, Your Grace.”
James was coming to realize that Miss Barlowe had had to endure more than the upbringing of a sickly child. The Duke was not the most polite or even well-mannered man. “Tell me how you came to be here. I expect you were rather a young woman to be raising a child that was not your own,” he said by way of offering a distraction.
Miss Barlowe positively preened under the attention. James thought of Lucy and how she had created a place for herself within his household, despite the fact that she was never truly servant or family. He wondered at the life Miss Barlowe had carved out for herself here. As Helena’s representative, she indeed was a part of fine society, but had she ever fit in anywhere?
I wonder that Lucy might be happier in her own way. I would do well to be kind to Miss Barlowe, for surely her life has been trying.
“You are indeed kind to notice,” Phoebe said, seeming thankful for the change in conversation. She lay her spoon down and delicately touching her napkin to her lips before continuing. “My sister was many years my senior, though I loved her dearly. We were very close. And my parents positively doted on her. When Father died, she took it unbearably hard. It was good that the marriage was already arranged by then, so she never had to know the privations that the rest of our family endured.”
“I am sure it must have been very difficult for you,” James said with a gentle smile.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I did not have to endure it long. It seemed no time at all before my sister was with child and needed me here. Although I was still very young, it pleased me to serve where I could. When we…we lost her, I was heartbroken. What could I do but to honor her memory by devoting my life to her child, to make sure she had everything she so deserved in life.”
“For which we are all eternally grateful,” the Duke rumbled and took a deep drink from the wine he had ordered to go with the meal. He had had several such cups already and had mellowed considerably in the course of the meal. “You are a Godsend, Miss Barlowe, an absolute Godsend.”
