Page 35 of A Dream of Redemption
“But he did. I saw it.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned in anger. “Is this because of the way I berated you for your antics at the ball the other night? I see nothing in this behavior to change my mind about you. Apologize at once.”
Fairfax’s face went red either from embarrassment or from anger at being publicly chastised, but with no option he turned to Clary and said, “Apologies. My stick must have got tangled in your legs.”
Before Clary could say anything Helen touched his side below his jacket. “Oh, you are bleeding. Your st—” She stopped herself just in time. How could she know he had stitches? “You must have hit a stone,” she said instead.
He wanted to wince from the pain in his side but he managed to keep his face blank. “Apology accepted, my lord. Lady Helen, it appears I have ripped my jacket and I believe I should excuse myself once I have seen you home.”
“I can see her home,” Lord Fairfax insisted.
“No.” Helen’s answer was emphatic, and those around them gasped at the slight. He briefly closed his eyes against the mistake she’d just made. This meeting would now be talked about in all the clubs and ballrooms. Neither of them needed, or wanted, to be the subject of gossip.
Lady Angela looked worriedly about the group, and she placed a hand on Helen’s arm. “You must be overwrought from the sight of blood but I’m sure Mr. Homeward is perfectly capable of seeing himself home,” and she flashed a warning smile his way.
“Her ladyship is quite correct, I live but a short stroll away.” But as he turned to leave, he stupidly winced and Helen caught it.
She ignored Lady Angela’s silent plea. “You are in pain. My carriage is just by the grass verge. Come, Mary; we shall see you dropped at your lodgings.”
Unless he wanted to shake her arm free of his elbow, he had to let her lead him to her carriage. Once they were seated inside he scolded, “That was badly done. Lord Fairfax is a powerful enemy and you made a scene that will no doubt soon make the social rounds.”
“He’s an arse.”
He wanted to smile at her words. Most women did not see past Lord Fairfax’s golden hair and angelic face. But then he was learning that Helen saw more than the outer shell of everyone. She was most perceptive.
“How badly hurt are you? Do I need to send for Blake?”
He shrugged. “I won’t know until I get home and take the bandages off. It may be the stitches have come out, or simply the scabs have opened again.”
She shook her head. “There is too much blood for it to not be the stitches. Shall I stop at the house and send word to Blake?”
“I’ll wait and see the damage when I get home,” he said firmly.
It took them only a few minutes to reach his accommodations. He dismounted and turned to bid her farewell when she was there on the street next to him. “What on earth do you think you are doing? You cannot come in.”
“He’s right, my lady.” Mary leaned out and looked up and down the street. “Please get back in the carriage.”
“I’m coming in to check your stitches. Stop fussing; you’ll draw attention to us.” With her bonnet firmly on her head she was incognito but the carriage had the Marquis of Coldhurst’s emblem blazing on the side.
“Get back in the carriage,” he barked at her sending a pleading look at Mary.
“The longer we stand here arguing the worse it will be.”
He looked up the street and quickly took her hand. “Move the carriage round the corner please,” he told the driver before leading her down the stairs of the fashionable townhouse.
“I shall come with you,” Mary said.
“No.” Helen quickly asserted. “We won’t be long, Mary.”
Clary sent Mary a pleading look to saystop this nonsense,but he noticed a look pass between Mary and Helen and for some reason Mary did not argue the point. A shiver ran down his spine. This could not be good.
Helen was being impossible but he led her inside. He would likely live to regret this but a small voice was whispering,But at least you are living.
“I have the basement because it comes with a small garden. I wanted it. I’ve never had any outdoor space that was my own.”
—
Helen remembered how important the key was to him, so wanting his own garden was no surprise. She loved the townhouse he’d selected to take accommodations in. It was a four-story building, which had been tastefully converted into private flats. The lovely iron fence running in front was painted white and at its base were a row of planter boxes filled with pink and white flowers.
He led her down steps to his private entrance, and she noted the pride in his stance as he took out his key and unlocked his front door and ushered her inside.
