“So you say,” he allowed coolly. “But you have already proven yourself capable of duplicity. Why should I believe a word uttered from your lips?”
They stared at each other, having reached yet another impasse.
“Oh, do forgive me, Lord and Lady Huntingdon,” said an unfamiliar voice then. “I did not mean to interrupt your tour. I thought to see some of her ladyship’s belongings settled.”
He turned to find a female servant hovering uncertainly on the threshold of the chamber. Here was the invitation to escape he required. He had to remove himself from his wife’s presence before he did something desperately ill-advised.
Like kiss her again.
Or, worse, make love to her.
“We have just finished our tour,” he said to the servant before bowing to Helena. “If you will excuse me, Lady Huntingdon, I will take my leave and allow you to settle in. I will see you at dinner.”
With that, he beat a hasty retreat from the countess he could not stop wanting.
The countess he should have never had.
He needed time, distance, and a plan.
Chapter Twelve
I have yet to hear an excellent, or rational, argument opposing women’s suffrage. To those who suggest most women do not want the same rights accorded their male counterparts, I say show me their numbers. Men are, by nature, no more capable of making sound decisions than women are. Indeed, on many occasions, they have proven themselves far less capable…
—FromLady’s Suffrage Society Times
Huntingdon was notcoming to dinner.
Helena had always possessed a hopeful nature. Or mayhap she had merely clung to her naiveté with a little more tenacity than she should have done. Whatever the case, during the course of the afternoon, she had allowed herself to be distracted by the unpacking of her garments and assortedbric-à-bracwhich had been sent over to begin her new life. She had told herself she would see her husband again over their evening meal as he had promised when he had fled from her chamber as if Cerberus were nipping at his heels.
When she had received his note one hour to dinner advising her that a matter was delaying his return, she had maintained her composure. In her first official act as Lady Huntingdon, she had requested Monsieur Mallette defer dinner for half an hour.
In her second official act as Lady Huntingdon, she had asked Monsieur to postpone dinner an additional half hour.
In her third official act as the Countess of Huntingdon, she had requested dinner be served at ten o’clock in the evening.
And now, she sat alone, trying not to cry into hergelée à la Belgrave.
Huntingdon’s chef was as excellent as she had expected. His dining room was decorated tastefully in subdued damask. The table was polished to a shine. The servants presiding over the lonesome affair were above reproach. If any of them pitied their new mistress for taking dinner alone on the day of her wedding, their countenances masked all such emotion. She could not find fault with a single detail. The silver epergne held nary a hint of tarnish.
Everything was perfect.
Except for the empty chair mocking her. The chair where her husband ought to be.
He had neglected to send a second note after the first. She could read his silence in several ways. None of them were promising.
Her dessert was sweet on her tongue. Realization, however, was bitter.
“I do believe I have had enough of dinner,” she announced to the footman nearest her. “Please give my compliments to Monsieur Mallette.”
The chef had outdone himself. Her inability to consume more than a few bites here and there was not in any way reflective of his culinary prowess. But rather, her lack of appetite.
The only sensation gnawing away at her insides was apprehension, not hunger.
Withdrawing from the dining room, she kept herself from making a discreet inquiry into whether or not his lordship had returned or if he had sent further word. Instead, she made her way to the library which she had only briefly had occasion to explore during her several attempts at delaying dinner.
She sighed as she made her way toward the beckoning wall of books. Perhaps some reading to distract her…
A strange sound cut through the stillness of the chamber.
