“And Your Grace… I don’t believe we’ve met. Your gown is quite… bold. Parisian?”
“Not quite,” Helena said calmly. “I had it altered to suit my taste.”
“Indeed.” Lady Fairfax’s smile was tight. “It does rather reflect your personality.”
Helena’s grip on her teacup didn’t falter, but her spine straightened by a hair. Silas set down his fork with a soft clink.
“My wife has never been the sort to conform,” he said, voice deceptively light. “It’s one of her more admirable qualities. Refreshing, wouldn’t you say?”
Lady Fairfax blinked. “Of course. It must bequitea change from the usual crowd.”
“Quite,” Silas agreed, staring at her without blinking. “One gets tired of what’s usual.”
Lady Fairfax looked briefly uncertain, then laughed as if he’d said something clever rather than cutting.
“Well, I’ll let you return to your… refreshment. Do let me know if you plan to attend Lady Shelbourne’s soiree next week, Lord Richmont.”
With a final glance at Helena that bordered on pity, she departed.
Silas leaned back with a scoff. “Always a delight.”
Helena exhaled slowly, her expression unreadable. “That was entertaining.”
“You handled her better than I would’ve expected,” Benedict said, raising his cup in salute.
“I’ve been through worse. And insulted in more artful ways—by better people than her,” Helena murmured, and both men chuckled.
Later that afternoon, Helena and Silas left Benedict at a tailor’s.
Now, they were strolling down a quieter street near Covent Garden when Helena paused before a narrow shop front with frosted glass and faded gold lettering:Whitaker’s Fine Books and Curiosities.
Silas followed her gaze. “You want to go in?”
“May we?”
He gave her a long look, then opened the door for her without a word.
The shop smelled of leather and dust and old ink. It felt like the kind of place where time slowed, and the past spoke softly from the shelves.
Helena drifted down an aisle, fingers brushing bindings with the sort of reverence she reserved for very little else.
Silas trailed her, hands in his coat pockets. “Find anything you like?”
“Everything.” She smiled faintly. “But I can’t justify buying it all.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She pulled a worn volume down and opened it carefully. “There’s something comforting about old books. They’re like silent companions.”
“Judgmental ones, depending on the author.”
She laughed quietly. “I don’t mind a bit of judgment. It keeps me sharp.”
Silas leaned against the end of the shelf. “You were sharp enough for Lady Fairfax.”
Helena’s gaze lifted. “Did I embarrass you?”
His brow lifted. “Is that a serious question?”
