Page 3 of A Dream of Redemption
Marisa raised her eyebrow.
“Only an honorable rake then,” Helen conceded. “Sometimes I think the Libertine Scholars are the only handsome, rakish, honorable rogues left, and I’ve missed out.”
Marisa had married Maitland Spencer, the Duke of Lyttleton and one of a group of men society dubbed the Libertine Scholars due to their love of learning and wenching in their younger days.
Marisa preened. “It’s our fifth wedding anniversary in a few days, and I’m still giddy with love.”
Helen smiled and hugged her secret to herself. Marisa’s husband, Maitland, had asked Helen to come and stay to watch over the children and nanny while he whisked Marisa off to a secret location for a few days. He told her he wanted his beautiful wife all to himself, and he knew his wife would not leave their children with only the nanny.
Helen wished she could find a man as romantic as the Duke of Lyttleton.
Marisa added, “I must admit I would not have looked twice at the young men around thetonat the moment. Perhaps your idea of letting fate take a hand is the right one. You usually find something when you least expect.”
“It would help if I knew what I was looking for.”
Just then there was a knock on the door and the children’s nanny entered. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but little Stephen is crying and won’t settle. He wants his mother.”
Her sister rose to see to her son. “Please wait, Helen. I want to discuss a trip to the modiste with you. I want the perfect dress to wear for my wedding anniversary.”
She nodded as Marisa left the room. Helen loved her nieces and nephews. They were orphans that Marisa had collected from the various orphanages she oversaw. She owned and controlled several. Five years ago, a carriage accident had left Marisa unable to have children, and Helen once thought her sister’s world had ended, but as she might have suspected, Marisa fought back, and with the love of Maitland set about building her lovely, if somewhat unconventional, family.
Speaking of which, Helen rose and moved to the wall to look at the portraits of Marisa and Maitland’s children, and the young men and women of the orphanages that Marisa had helped over the last five years. Her sister operated several to ensure the children were well looked after and educated, in order to move into a respectable trade and have a chance in life.
Marisa really was an amazing woman. Helen tried to help when she could but being unmarried meant she did not have the same freedom that Marisa had. She wished she could do more. Sometimes the wasteful life she led choked her. Caged in, a woman with a good brain, yet unable to use it for fear of being labeled a bluestocking. What was wrong with wanting to learn and experience the world? Balls, parties, gowns were not enough. Some days she thought she’d go mad from boredom.
Just then there was another soft knock at the door. She stayed silent, thinking that if there were no reply the person on the other side of the door would believe the room was empty. Instead, the door opened and in walked Mr. Clarence Homeward, her sister’s private secretary and overseer of the orphanages.
As always her eyes appreciated the man. She was not in his line of sight so for once she could stare to her heart’s content, and her body wasverycontent.
Over the last five years he’d grown from a young and unsure lad into a “cannot help but notice him” man. He’d filled out. He was tall, big, and all lean, hard muscle. He still had his ebony ringlets but his chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw didn’t let his hair make him look feminine. His virility and beauty knocked the breath from her lungs every time she saw him.
The housemaids twittered around him, hanging on his every smile, hence why he was given his own bachelor quarters on the edge of Mayfair. She’d heard from her sister that Mr. Homeward had now bought the lease to his lodgings. He’d disrupted the household too much when he’d originally lived under this roof. The other reason was his younger brother, Simon. They wanted to be together in their own accommodations. She respected that.
She watched Mr. Homeward walk to Marisa’s desk and begin to go through her diary. He started muttering as he flicked through the pages, and Helen wondered if Marisa let him go through her private appointments.
“Good morning, Mr. Homeward.”
His fingers paused on a page as he looked in her direction, his eyes showing no embarrassment at being caught with his hand in Marisa’s diary. “Forgive me, Lady Helen, I did not realize you were still here.” Then he calmly returned to flicking the pages over.
She pushed off the wall and began to walk back to her chair by the desk. The woman in her was a tad irked that he could dismiss her presence so easily. Most men drank her in. She was known as atondiamond, a title she usually hated. It made men most insincere.
“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Homeward? You can’t seem to find what you need in my sister’s private papers.” She emphasized the word “private.”
He didn’t even look up or stop his searching. “Her Grace allows me access to her diary because she prioritizes the orphanages’ issues above everything else.”
The way he said it without even looking at her implied everything else was superfluous. As if her life of social calls, shopping, and balls was a waste. He was probably right but Helen didn’t know what else she could do. An unmarried lady of her standing was not free to gallivant around the city pursuing good causes. Not if she wanted to make a good match. For an unmarried lady her reputation was the only thing that was her own.
Her mouth dried and for the first time in a long while a man made her feel insignificant. Usually men flattered and preened around her. He must have noted her silence for he finally stopped his page shuffling and looked up at her.
“Do you know where Her Grace is?”
“She is with Stephen.”
More muttering. “Will she be long?”
“I have no idea.” Helen sat back down and decided to see if she could stare him out and make him as uncomfortable as he was trying to make her. She had no idea why he acted like this around her. His disapproval of her existence was obvious and unfair. Mr. Homeward was polite to her when she did happen to cross paths with him, and he always kept in the background, but his manner around her bordered on indifference, and that’s what bothered her.
She knew Mr. Homeward and Simon had come into Marisa’s life when her sister had just married and they’d been the target of her husband’s enemy. However, she did not know why or how Mr. Homeward had become Marisa’s man of business. No one would share that story with Helen. She was sure there was some dreadful tale behind it all because her sister would brush off any attempt by Helen to learn more. Curiosity was a terrible thing, but Mr. Homeward was an enigma. An attractive enigma that for some reason she wanted to know more about.
