“I’m hemming this gown.”
Amelia frowned. “Isn’t that the seamstress’s job?”
Helena raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”
“Yes, it is.” Amelia grabbed her arm. “Now leave her to it and let’s go.”
Gently, Helena removed Amelia’s hand from her arm. “Or we could stay here. There’s much to be done. The lace needs to be unfurled and straightened out. Would you mind doing it?”
Amelia stared at her with wide uncertain eyes. “I don’t think I’m supposed to do that.”
“Why not?” Helena asked. “Are you averse to needles?”
Amelia snorted. “No that’s not it…” She bit her bottom lip, thinking about it. “I suppose I could… help?”
Helena smiled. “It will go much faster if you do, then I can have some clothes to wear.”
Amelia relaxed and smiled. “You’re right. What would you like me to do?”
Helena pointed at the lace, which was all bunched together. She showed Amelia how to straighten it out, keeping an eye on her as she continued to mend.
The other girl was quite proficient, however, and extremely focused on what she was doing, so she did not need much help. Helena smiled fondly at the picture Amelia made: biting her tongue, brow furrowed as she concentrated hard on her task, wanting to do it exactly right.
Being at St. Margaret’s had taught Helena that it was best for a woman to have as many skills as possible. She flicked her eyes at the seamstress, wondering if she might learn from her how to make gowns.
It’s a way to earn a living.
She put that out of her mind for the moment, focusing on hemming her gown and keeping an eye on Amelia. It wasn’t long before the other girl had finished straightening the lace, and she sat with her legs tucked underneath her on the bench, entertaining both Helena and the seamstress with endless stories about her life.
She told them about all the interesting dinner guests they hosted from time to time, from foreigners coming from the continent, the new world, and even the Far East to lords and ladies from London, Wales and Scotland passing through on their travels.
“Silas is usually good about letting me sit and hear all their stories. Especially his friend Benedict, the Marquess of Richmont. He’s so handsome, so refined that I sometimes cannot face him or speak to him at all!” She shook her head. “It’s quite embarrassing. The worst part is that he has a beautiful head of blonde hair, and the most striking green eyes I have ever seen. But I bet he thinks I’m just a little foolish girl,” she said dejectedly.
Helena rubbed her shoulder consolingly, unable to hide her smile. “I am sure he knew what a lovely, compassionate, interesting person you are.”
“I hope so. I would hate to seem foolish like that in front of my brother’s friends. He’s done so much for me, and I only hope that I’ll measure up to it when I come of age.”
Helena’s smile widened. “You already are measuring up to it.”
Helena was sitting in the gazebo, enjoying the view and reading her book, while Amelia was off to her music lessons. She was surprised to realize that she was smiling.
Just being in this beautiful garden, surrounded by gorgeous flowers giving off lovely scents, made her feel calm and at peace.
Maybe evenhappy.
The sound of approaching footsteps made her look up. Her heart skipped. She was not expecting anyone. Her eyes widened as she saw Silas striding towards her, his expression tight, controlled, but there was a tension in him she recognized instantly.
She straightened, her spine rigid, as he came to a stop in front of her. His tall frame cast a shadow over her, blotting out the sunlight.
“Lady Helena.”
“Your Grace,” she curtsied, her heartbeat picking up now he was standing closer to her.
“I heard that you…taught Amelia how to do some sewing,” he said, voice low but edged with frustration.
“Oh. Yes, I did. I was helping out the seamstress?—”
“Which you did not have to,” he cut her off. “You’re a guest here, not part of the staff.”
