Page 18 of Letters to a Wallflower
Ben knew then that he had never really understood wanting before. Not truly. Not like he wanted to do this for her. Not like he wanted to be there when she shed this trauma and moved on. He wanted her in his life as he found his own way back, too.
“I will find out what happened.” It was a vow.
“I’d like to help,” she whispered.
Yes. But a sudden noise had him raising his head before he could answer. The porter he had bribed whispered just outside. “The lady’s family grows concerned. Her brother is looking for her.”
She gasped. “Will cannot find us together!”
“No,” he agreed. “Tomorrow, then?” He stopped. How could a gently bred girl go investigating with him?
“Yes.” She grinned. “Meet me at the flying sword baby.”
He frowned—but suddenly the memory dawned and he laughed. “Yes.” He kissed her hand. “I’ll meet you there at noon. Can you get away for the whole afternoon?”
She looked down at her hand, still in his, then looked up at him, determination growing. “I will.”
He took a letter from his pocket and slipped it into her hand. “Go now. I’ll see you there.”
Pressing the letter to her chest, she backed away, then turned and left.
Chapter 6
“Your grandmother won’t like this. Nary a bit of it.” Carruthers allowed her disapproval to show.
"The Portland Vase?" Helen replied lightly. “None of us like it.” She grinned. “Will and his friends came to Town once, with their tutors. They saw the Exhibition at the Royal Academy and they studied ancient arts here at the British Museum.” She gestured around at the room full of Roman glassware and porcelain. “They were tasked to make sketches of one object, so that they might paint it at home. Will chose this one. How I laughed at his efforts! I thought he’d mistaken the proportions and adjusted the subjects. A flying baby with a sword, that was half the size of a man? I was merciless, until the others assured me he’d captured it faithfully. When I came to Town for my first Season, I had to see it for myself. This was one of the first stops I made.” She grinned wistfully.
The maid’s sour look did not budge. “You know that is not what I meant, Miss.”
Helen sighed. “Yes. I know.” She paused and looked the woman in the eye. “I like you, Carruthers. You are skilled at many useful things. I’d hoped you would stay on with me, past the Season. But I don’t wish to have to remind you that it is I who pays your wages. I expect your loyalty to lie with me.”
“And so it does, Miss. I won’t be tattling to your grandmother, but that doesn’t mean I think you should go galivanting with a young gentleman. Especially not this young gentleman.”
“He is trustworthy. I believe it. And I’m not galivanting, but accompanying him to question the editor who wrote those scathing articles about me.”
Carruthers shook her head. “Not sure it’s any wiser to go dragging out all that muck again, when you’ve just nearly got past it.”
Helen’s gaze shifted away. “That’s just it, though. I thought I would get past it, if I was accepted back into Society. I thought that if I was only received back into their circle, if I could talk and smile and dance and maybe flirt a little . . . “
“And give them a lesson on taste and style,” Carruthers said with an approving nod at her smart carriage dress and matching pelisse.
“And that,” Helen agreed with a smile. “I thought that was what I needed, in order to put it all behind me.” She lowered her tone. “But I find that it is not.”
Carruthers heaved a sigh. “Very well, then. Just be careful, Miss. Please.”
“I will. I promise.” She nodded at the maid. “Now, you enjoy your unexpected half day off, will you?”
“I s’pose I will.”
Carruthers ambled out of the room. Helen suffered a small qualm once she was gone. Rambling about Hertfordshire was one thing, but London was quite another. She hadn’t been left alone in a public spot in Town before. Shaking her head, she bolstered herself with the memory of a passage from Ben’s last letter.
* * *
I used to admire your spunk, when we were younger. You never backed down. You chased us up trees, into caves and across the county, riding hell-for-leather behind us without hesitation. I admired it, but in a fleeting way. It wasn’t until I was at war and became a leader of men that I truly understood what a great heart you have, and what a rare and wonderful thing that is. There is a lot of quiet time in war. Why don’t they tell you that beforehand, I wonder? But there was plenty of time to think and reflect on your mistakes and that of those around you. Many times, sitting under some Spanish tree, I would think of you and imagine what I might accomplish, if I had a regiment of men with your spirit behind me. I swear, the war would have long ended, if only more men were as brave and loyal as you.
* * *
Helen had teared up a little, reading it. She’d thought for so long that he’d scarcely noticed her at all. But this—it meant he’d seen far more than she’d thought. Or perhaps, more than he realized.
