Page 28 of A Dream of Redemption
“I’m also hungry for news. Where’s Richard?”
Blake sighed. “He’s doing what you asked. Trying to get a lead on Glover.” His eyes narrowed at Clary. “Just because you’re feeling better you’re not to try and get up. That wound needs more time.”
“How much time? I don’t have time. Glover could already be leaving London and setting up elsewhere.”
Blake helped Clary sit up straighter by plumping up his pillows. “Why is it so important to capture him? You saved the children he had taken and closed his operation down. Normally that would be enough for you. You and I both know taking Glover off the streets won’t change anything. Someone else will take his place.”
Helen’s words floated in his head.We can only do what we can do.
“I want to ensure Glover can never set up anywhere else.I want to do what I can to protect the world from animals like him. That’s all each of us can do.”
Blake looked at him and nodded. “That sounds like something Lady Helen would say. I never thought you’d have any hope back in your life but she’s changing you. And for the better. A life without love or hope—well you might as well be dead.”
For the first time in a very long time, Clary was thankful he’d survived. A life of working with Helen, of seeing her every day, was enough.
It was only when he’d managed to get dressed and go downstairs a day later that he knew he’d lied to himself. Having tasted her and touched her, only seeing Helen would never be enough.
He wasn’t stupid. One day he would have to stand aside and watch from the shadows as Helen married and started life away from him.
Still, that terrible prospect was in the future and he intended to make the most of the time he’d been blessed with, to drink her into his soul before he watched her walk away.
Chapter 9
Lady Helen stood near the refreshment table at Lady Grimshaw’s ball. She tried to pay attention to what her best friend, Lady Angela, was saying, but all she could think about was that Clary was to start back at Marisa’s the day after tomorrow. Clary had moved home two days ago but there was no way she could visit him at his bachelor accommodations.
She kept busy working most mornings in Marisa’s study, putting a plan in place to raise money so she could become the patron of more orphanages just like Marisa.
Marisa had not said much about her extended stay in Southwark except that it was a tad too long as far as her reputation was concerned. Her absence luckily had gone unnoticed by her brother and society at large. Helen did not ask after Clary. Wisely as it turned out, because her sister was quite intuitive.
Helen was bursting to talk with her sister about the kiss she had shared with Clary. For some reason she held back. Would Marisa approve? She didn’t want to risk the answer as it could mean she would be unable to keep working with him.
If she was too scared to tell her sister, it made her a hypocrite. Clary kept saying society would not approve and she kept saying it didn’t matter. But it did. And her heart broke not knowing how to fix that. Why couldn’t she fall in love with whomever she wanted?
Life was unfair. And as Clary said, life always would be.
A flush washed her already heated body as she wished for the millionth time she could speak to him. And tomorrow she would. He was returning to his employ.
“I say, Helen. Are you flushing because of the looks Lord Fairfax is sending your way? He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he arrived.”
Lady Angela’s words focused her thoughts. Lady Angela was her friend. A young lady looking for a husband just like Helen was. Both of them were considered bluestockings but unlike Angela, Helen knew her looks made many men overlook her more studious disposition. Her dowry helped too. However, due to their studious dispositions, neither of them had men lining up to request a dance.
Helen looked at Beatrice and Portia and the other Libertine Scholars’ wives surrounding her as they waited for her to answer Angela. “He is rather handsome, don’t you think?” was all she could think to say.But not nearly as handsome as Clary.Unfortunately, Lord Fairfax also knew he was handsome. A rake of the first water, he always looked in a mirror as he strolled by.
Arrogance was his middle name. The son of the Earl of Wrotham, he was a wealthy catch most mothers tried to reel in. He was of marriageable age, a few years younger than her brother. Helen thought marriage to him would be hell. He wanted an ornament on his arm and a woman to produce an heir. He had no idea who she really was and would never care enough to find out. He saw pedigree. He saw good breeding. He saw alignment of families and money. But he did not really see her.
Did Clary?
She’d decided she would not marry any man who did not understand who she was. She wanted what her sister and brother had with their partners. A person who filled her soul and her heart. A man who treated her as an equal. A man like Clary.
Why that thought flashed in her mind she did not know. They hardly knew each other—only she felt as if she’d known him forever. She knew nothing of Clary’s past other than it was likely very different from hers.
But the idea of marriage to Clary was—was what? Ridiculous. Ludicrous. Outrageous. Disastrous.
Desirous.
When she looked up from her dangerous thoughts it was to see Lord Fairfax standing within her group of ladies. They were smiling and batting their fans at him.
Lady Portia offered an introduction. “Lady Helen, may I present Lord Fairfax. Be careful, his smile hides many a sin.”
