Page 45 of A Dream of Redemption
“Oh, nothing. You—there is just something about you today.”
She felt her face heat. “It must be the confidence I’ve gained since overseeing the orphanage.”
Beatrice hesitated for a moment and her eyes narrowed. “Hmmm. Perhaps. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me—or ask me?”
Did she know? Had Beatrice guessed that Helen had let Clary introduce her to passion? How could Beatrice know? Helen did feel different inside but she did not want to share her magical moments in Clary’s home—in his bed. Not even with Marisa. And definitely not with Beatrice, her brother’s wife.
Exercising her willpower she kept her face and voice devoid of emotion. “Will you come with me to visit the orphanage tomorrow, to see it for yourself?” She wanted to go because Clary was in Southwark, and she was certain that he was hiding from her. He was trying to put distance between them. She didn’t want distance. She wanted to learn if what they shared was love. Only then would she fight for him.
“That would be lovely. If we go early we will be back in time to rest before dinner at Marisa’s.”
Blast. She’d forgotten that they had a big family dinner tomorrow night. Tonight she had agreed to accompany Angela to Lady Theresa Sherwood’s ball. She didn’t really want to go, but she wanted to have a talk with Angela about Lord Fairfax. Since the walk in the park, Helen had heard rumors that Lord Fairfax was paying court to her friend. Angela might be deemed a wallflower but as far as Helen was concerned she could do better than Lord Fairfax, who loved no one but himself.
Speaking of men, she wondered what Clary had learned about Glover. He’d been back to Southwark, hunting Glover she was sure, but he would never share anything about the hunt with her and neither would Marisa.
Clary’s desertion hurt. He had not invited her to come to the orphanage, hence why she would go on her own, and take Beatrice too. He was avoiding her.
Helen wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She wanted him to love her. But another part of her, the sensible part, pounded out words of warning in her head and would not be silenced.
If she was honest with herself, while she complained about having to go to balls, of always having to act the perfect daughter of a marquis, and while having loads of pretty dresses and money had never been important to her, the idea of never doing or having those things again frightened her.
This was the only life she knew. It was not the only life she could be happy in but the familiar was comforting.
The one thing that would challenge any decision on a relationship was her family. If they threatened to disown her, or stopped her from seeing her nieces and nephews, she did not know if she could bear it. Was love worth all the pain it might cause her family?
And did she love Clary or was she merely infatuated? Too many lives could be ruined unless she knew her true heart.
If she stood by Clary, Marisa was unlikely to ban her from the house, but His Grace could deem her inappropriate to be seen with his children. And her brother…Helen shivered in the warm sunlight streaming through the window. He would likely disown her. Their family had been embroiled in too much scandal; that’s why Sebastian was trying so hard to find her a nice stable lord to marry. Sebastian saw Helen as the beacon of hope in their family’s sorry sagas.
Just then the drawing room door opened. “Shall I organize to fetch you some refreshments, my lady?” Roberts asked.
“Tea and scones would be lovely. Did I hear a carriage draw up? Do we have visitors?” Beatrice asked.
“Yes, my lady, a Mr. Homeward has called on his lordship.”
Helen’s face went white. Clary was here to see her brother? He wouldn’t—no, he wouldn’t…
Beatrice swung to look at her in concern. “Do you know anything about this visit?”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“Is that all, my lady?”
Beatrice nodded, her mouth still hanging open. Once Roberts had left Beatrice rounded on her. “Is there some special reason Mr. Homeward would be calling upon your brother?”
Helen shook her head again, her mind whirling. “None.” She would not believe Clary would speak to her brother about them without discussing it with her first.
“I can’t hear any yelling or roaring.” Beatrice rose. “However, just in case I suggest we pop in and ensure it stays that way.”
Helen was in total agreement and rose to follow Beatrice from the room.
—
When the butler ushered Clary into Lord Coldhurst’s study, he noted that it was not much grander than the office Her Grace had set up for Clary in her home. The large walnut desk sat near the huge bay window ensuring good light to work in, while a roaring fire filled the grate on the side of the room. Walls of books and files ran along the opposite wall.
He was used to being in the presence of rich and powerful men and even though this was Helen’s brother Clary refused to be intimidated.
Lord Coldhurst beckoned him forward, and he moved to where the two high-backed chairs stood on the other side of Lord Coldhurst’s desk. He knew to wait to be invited before taking one of these chairs. Important men always ensured you knew they were important by making you stand.
