Page 2 of A Dream of Redemption
She saw her sister share a glance with her husband before saying, “He is a young man who helped us defeat Victoria.” She turned to Maitland, “Are they both in the house?”
Her husband nodded.
“Clarence has a younger brother, Simon. I can’t explain everything now, as I’m tired. But do let them know I’m well, and thank him for his thoughts.”
Helen said her goodbyes and when she opened the bedchamber door to take her leave she bumped straight into a boy.
“Is Her Grace better now?”
She smiled down at him as she pulled the door closed behind her. “You must be Simon.” The boy nodded. “You can tell your brother that my sister is recovering and will be up and about in a few days.”
“Thank you, my lady. You must be Lady Helen. Clarence told me you were as beautiful as an angel.”
She could feel her face heat as Simon beamed a smile. She almost said that Clarence was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen but managed to bite her tongue.
“Why don’t you go and put Clarence out of his misery. Tell him Her Grace will soon be up and about.”
She watched him race off toward the back stairs as she made her way downstairs to talk with Brunton. Clarence and Simon piqued her interest. There was a story here, one her sister did not wish her to know. Perhaps Brunton would explain why these two were now living in the Duke of Lyttleton’s house, and why they were so obviously devoted to Marisa.
Chapter 1
LONDON 1820—FIVE YEARS LATER
“Lord Portman has a large estate in Sussex, not so far from ours.”
On a long drawn-out sigh, Helen carefully replaced her cup of tea back on its saucer on the edge of her sister’s desk.
“Please stop. I am not interested in Lord Gerald Portman, and therefore there is no need for you to sing his praises.”
Although Lord Portman was a nice enough chap, when she chose a husband the first word she thought of to describe him would not be “nice.”
Virile. Handsome. Masculine…
Marisa sat back in her chair and rubbed a hand over her eyes.
“I know you mean well, Marisa, but I’ve decided to stop looking for a husband.”
“You’re giving up?” her sister all but yelled. “You’re three and twenty, Helen. Time is marching on.” Marisa eyed her suspiciously. “You’re not still in love with Hadley?”
“Don’t be silly. It was youthful infatuation. I’m pleased for Hadley and Evangeline.” And she was. She had once thought that Hadley Fullerton, Duke of Claymore, was her Prince Charming but he had never shown an ounce of interest in her other than as the younger sister of his best friend, her brother Sebastian.
“Then what is stopping you finding a husband?”
Helen let her sister rant for a few more minutes before calmly saying, “I did not say I was giving up. I’m merely stepping back and allowing fate the chance to play a hand.”
Slumped over her desk, Marisa asked, “Why?”
“Because all the women I know found the love of their lives through fate. All of them married amazing, handsome men who did not primp and line up at balls to dance with them. I won’t find what I’m looking for in the middle of a waltz.”
Marisa stayed silent. There was nothing she could say. Helen’s logic was irrefutable.
“I understand what you are saying but what if fate does not throw a man in your path?”
“I’m sure fate has some plan for me. Or else I would have given in to everyone’s meddling. Sebastian is worse than you. He keeps inviting young men to dinner, only he picks the most sedate and boring men in London.”
“He’s our brother. He’s hardly likely to bring a rake home to meet you.”
They both giggled. “I don’t want a rake either.”
