Alarmed, Heloise gathered Julia in her arms.“Dear God, what’s happened?”she exclaimed.But it was all too obvious that she would not soon get an answer; the girl had become incoherent in whatever grief had hold of her.Her body shook, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she cried into Heloise’s shoulder.For Heloise’s part, she could only act as a kind of port in the storm while Julia clung to her and questions flooded her head: Was Julia ill?Had she lost her position?Was she in trouble?She felt at sea, unsure how to deal with the emotions pouring out of the girl.
Gregory would know what to do.The thought came unbidden, all the harsher for how unexpected it was.At the remembrance of her late husband, a deep guilt took hold of Heloise.She had made a vow to Gregory just before his unexpected death that she would watch over Julia.The two had been very close, and his passing had left a gaping hole in the girl’s life—one that Heloise fully blamed herself for.If she had only taken care of things herself, if she had not asked for help, Julia would now have a brother to protect her.
Closing her eyes, she laid her cheek on the crown of the sobbing girl’s head, even as she fought against the burn oftears that lodged in her throat.Julia was so fragile and sensitive.She and Gregory had had only each other for so long, and he had been incredibly protective of her, his anxiety over her future nearly consuming him.It had been the main reason he had married Heloise, to give the girl a kind of mother figure as she grew.And Heloise had filled that space as well as she had been able to.Even so, the bond between the two siblings had been strong, and she had often felt an outsider.His concern for his sister’s well-being had been his one coherent thought as he’d lain feverish and confused on his deathbed, begging Heloise to protect her, his eyes glazed, skin pale and clammy, hand like a claw about her own in that one last burst of desperate energy…
She broke free of the memory with a gasp.What else could she have done but agree to his request—as incapable as she had felt of fulfilling it?She would have promised so much more to give him a bit of peace.
Despite her fears that she would muck the whole thing up, she had done her best to keep that vow.She’d made sure Julia had everything she needed, nursing her when she was sick, surprising her with the small trinkets and treats she thought Gregory might have chosen, cheering for her when she secured a position as companion to an influential countess.
But it had not been enough.Julia’s tears seemed proof that she had failed at the one thing Gregory had asked of her.
“Julia, please let me know what’s wrong,” she tried again, desperation coloring the words.
Blessedly, the sound of her voice seemed to finally calm Julia.Gulping in several large breaths, sniffling loudly, she pulled away from Heloise.Tears glistened in her lashes and streaked down her pale cheeks, and she retrieved ahandkerchief from her reticule and pressed it to her running nose.“I hardly know where to begin,” she managed around the material.
“There is no better place than the beginning,” Heloise said firmly, patting her arm.
Yet even with the encouragement—and despite that she had obviously visited with the express purpose of revealing her troubles to Heloise—Julia seemed at a complete loss.Blessedly, the tea came then, a maid bringing the tray in and depositing it before them.Heloise busied herself with preparing their cups and doling out generous plates of delicacies, giving Julia the time and space to gather her thoughts—and hiding that she was devoured by worry for the girl.Finally, when she had served them both and was left with nothing further to do except clasp her hands in her lap to keep herself from tearing her hair out from anxiety, Julia spoke up.
“I don’t know where else to turn, Heloise.If you say you cannot help me, I don’t know what to do.”
Which was far too ominous a sentence.Swallowing hard, Heloise placed a steadying hand on Julia’s arm.Though truthfully it was as much for herself as it was for Julia.
“What happened?”she asked.
Closing her eyes as if beyond weary, Julia whispered, “Dionysus.”
Heloise stilled.“Dionysus?Thegaming hell?”Surely she’d misheard.
Julia nodded mournfully.And Heloise suddenly felt sick to her stomach.Blowing out a sharp breath, she leaned back in her seat.Dionysus was known as a place of immorality, synonymous with decadence and excess.There was not a highborn family that had not been affected, for better or worse, by chances taken at Dionysus’s tables.
But how had Julia, as innocent and naive as she was—not to mention that she was most certainly not from a well-to-do family—become entangled in such a place?
No matter how Julia had become involved, Heloise needed to focus so she could help in whatever way she could.Sitting forward, taking up her cup and swallowing a deep draught, letting the bracing heat of the tea work its way into her stomach, she turned back to Julia.“Tell me everything,” she demanded.“And I mean everything.”
2
At the end of an hour, after wading through a good many stops and starts and tearful words that she could barely comprehend, Heloise finally managed to extract the whole story from her distraught sister-in-law.A story that made her equal parts terrified and furious, mingling with a guilt that deepened with each agonized word.
But now was not the time to allow those emotions to take control, not if she was to save Julia from the loss she’d incurred at Dionysus’s tables.She saw the other woman out, promising to help in every way she possibly could, before retreating to her bedroom.
But as she moved to the window to stare down into the back garden, fear sat dark and heavy on her shoulders.How could she possibly save Julia?After all, Dionysus was a massive beast, far reaching and frightening and powerful, while she was just… Heloise.
She didn’t know how long she stood staring out the window.But she was no closer to a solution when a sudden knock sounded on her door, scattering her troubled thoughts like clay marbles in a children’s game.She wouldfind an answer somehow, she vowed.No matter how hopeless it seemed.
Smoothing her hands over her skirts, she called out, “Come in.”
The maid, Kristen, peeked her head in.“Lady Vastkern sent me to remind you of the weekly meeting in the drawing room, Mrs.Marlow.”
Damn, she had forgotten about that.“Thank you, Kristen,” she said before taking a steadying breath and following the maid out.
The Widows were already gathered about a low tea table in a lively discussion when she entered.They greeted her with smiles as she took her place in the circle.
“Was that Miss Marlow I saw leaving a short while ago?”Euphemia asked, placing a neat stitch in the bit of fabric she was working on.A former theatrical costumer and therefore a master with a needle and thread—as well as a whole host of disguise techniques—she had the power to transform in a moment into anyone she chose.A veritable chameleon when it came to clothing and makeup and mannerisms, she was an invaluable tool in the Widows’ arsenal of talent.
“It was,” Heloise replied.Before she could open her mouth to continue, however, Mrs.Iris Rumford spoke up.
“You do not seem happy to have seen her.”She frowned slightly, unconsciously scratching at her scalp under her mass of upswept blond curls, dislodging a leaf from the mess.Their resident botanist, who had a peculiar talent for lock-picking and safecracking, she was indispensable to them.She also had the tendency to think in a very linear, logical fashion that, while useful for her profession, left her confused by the minutiae of social interactions and rules.
