Page 41 of Terms of Trade (Trade Wind 4)

Chapter Ten

As the carriage slowed in front of the Sideris mansion, Helen laughed at her brother’s lack of inhibition. Elijah had thrown back the velvet curtain and was peering out the window with his face pressed to the glass.

Judging by his long, low whistle, the home impressed him, no small feat given his travels—and his aversion to acknowledging that there was anything impressive in London.

“Have no doubt, Helen! We’re in for a feast tonight.” After launching back against the plush seat, he rubbed his hands together and winked. “They must have quite a wine cellar, too.”

She smiled, glad for both their sakes he was in good spirits. With everything on her mind—and shoulders—she had enough to manage. “Why, Captain Miller, who knew that all it takes to change your tune is the promise of a rich meal?”

“Andwine—don’t forget the wine. Can’t say I’m surprised by this, not after what we saw yesterday.”

She nodded at the reminder of their visit to the lavish townhouse she would soon occupy, courtesy of Nicholas’s family. Elijah was scheduled to depart for China in two days’s time, and though the two of them shared concerns about her accepting the Siderises’ offer, they also agreed it was too advantageous to decline.

Thanks to the sale of the lumber, her lodgings budget placed her at greater advantage than most London residents, and indeed, the options were superior to the crowded, filthy tenant housing that formed the city’s colossal underbelly. After their hastily arranged inspections of available rooms, she knew it would be foolish to decline Adrian Sideris’s erstwhile home, complete with a staff at the ready.

Helen was at once grateful for the townhouse and vigilant against it being a silken web that could entrap her. After deciding to accept Sirena’s offer, she and her brother also planned for her to be prudent with her funds—in case she found herself in need of new arrangements at any time.

“Cheer up, Helen! You’re the prettiest gal in England, new gown and all, and Irons came through. The silver’s inAlacrity’s hold, snug as a bug in a rug. Our fortunes are looking up.”

“For the last two days, you’ve spoken as if we’d accepted an invitation to the lion’s den!”

Her brother shrugged under his greatcoat. “You’re suspicious enough for the both of us—which is how it ought to be. It’s you staying behind with them. For now, though, there’s nothing wrong with toasting to our luck. It may not last, but I’ll enjoy it while it does.”

Her growing fondness for her brother, more than she could have imagined in recent years, warmed her. Before she could comment, the carriage tilted as the footman leapt from his seat next to the driver down to the street. Well-oiled, the metal hinges on the retractable stairs barely made a sound as they were extended. Preparing for their arrival, Helen pulled her cape tighter around her like a shield.

After spending the week assuming that she would have to drag Elijah to the dinner, it was he who led her enthusiastically up the stairs of the palatial columned home, and she who, while outwardly calm, stepped as if her feet were made of lead.

This gown…my hair…

She felt foolish. The winter chill was no match for the simple ivory cape that Madame Robillard had made for her along with the gown; she felt half-nude underneath.

Away from the modiste’s magical airs, Helen wasn’t so sure about the woman’s assessment anymore. Perhaps she was a sturdy red apple who survived falls with nothing but a few bruises—not an exotic apricot.

Stepping into the marble entryway filled with statues and dozens of candles, Elijah turned her way with a grin, waggling his eyebrows before giving up his greatcoat to a servant. Borrowed from Mr. Hughes, the dark tailcoat underneath looked as though tailored for him, and he’d even accepted his friend’s advice and wore a dashing ivory cravat—a strangler, as Elijah called it.

Helen was tugging off her gloves when a jolt of warmth went through her. She looked up to find Nicholas standing in a doorway. The brief trip to Spain had deepened his skin’s copper hue, also set off by his white shirt and dark formal evening wear, but otherwise, he was as she remembered, down to the eyes that took in everything.

“Helen,” he said, looking unaccountably moved.

Suddenly, Pen darted around him and Sirena and Pen’s welcomes echoed in the large entryway. Smiling despite her earlier worries—and the distraction of her awareness of Nicholas—she found their open enthusiasm charming. It was a welcome departure from the suppression of emotion expected by Robbie’s family and the sangfroid she’d observed in London so far.

Sirena reached up to kiss both her cheeks, her diamond jewelry twinkling in the candlelight. Taking in the slight sheen on her pewter gown, saved from severity with its elegant cut and fine fabric, Helen wondered what fruit Madame Robillard had discerned her to be.

“What a delicious looking bunch of grapes you are!” she murmured to Pen as they greeted each other.

Her deep-purple bodice, reassuringly as low cut as Helen’s off-the shoulder creation, coordinated with the tiered skirts that alternated in wide bands of purple and black. Her jet earbobs, necklace, bracelets, and hair combs gleamed. Beaming, Pen kissed her other cheek, and the frilly, black feathers in her hair danced as she moved.

Helen introduced the women to her brother, who executed a smart and decorous bow. In the corner of her eye, she was aware of Elijah pumping Nicholas’s hand while she made the acquaintance of Vassilis Sideris.

Shorter than his son but solidly built, his salt-and-pepper hair looked as thick as Nicholas’s, and his brown eyes matched Pen’s. After his introduction to Elijah, she and Elijah expressed their gratitude to their hosts for sending their carriage.

Vassilis held his arms open, his eyes on hers. “You are most welcome in the Sideris home.”

Next, she met Nicholas’s gaze again and dipped her head in greeting.

“Good evening, Helen.”

“Good evening!”

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