“Three hours ago,” his aunt whispered in obvious horror. “Pettigrew accompanied her there. How could she have so deceived me?”
Nicholas summoned the butler, his heart sinking when he learned that Pettigrew had not actually seen Helena enter Haynesdale House. He charged down to the kitchens, only to notice one of the kitchen maids looking fearful. He reasoned immediately that she knew more, and Kitty admitted not only to delivering a note to Miss Emerson but to contriving that she took a satchel with her.
“Why?” Nicholas demanded so vehemently that the girl broke into tears.
“She was meeting him, sir, to go to Gretna Green, sir. It was so romantic, sir.”
Nicholas swore. “Mr. Melbourne?” he asked and the girl nodded tearfully as the remaining staff looked on.
“He sent a letter at noon, sir. She was so pleased.”
Nicholas did not share his sister’s view. He could scarce believe Helena’s folly, but he returned to his aunt to share what he had learned.
“I am going to Haynesdale House to seek assistance,” he concluded.
“And the duke will aid you?”
“Haynesdale intended to depart for Dover tonight. He may already be gone.”
His aunt dropped her forehead to her hands in defeat, looking more broken than Nicholas had ever seen her.
“Rest assured, Aunt Fanny. I will ride after her.” He was surprised when his aunt shook her head.
“It is too late, Nicholas,” she said heavily. “It is all too late. It is night.”
“I will find her. I promise it to you.”
The older woman’s expression grim. “Even if you do, there will be rumors and there is no more time.”
Struck by her emphasis on the last word, Nicholas paused in the act of leaving and looked back. “Time for what, Aunt?”
She frowned and rose to her feet, pacing a few steps before turning to him again. She gestured and he closed the door, returning to her side. She spoke softly but urgently. “I did not wish to burden you, but there is no escaping it now. My only hope was for Helena to wed well and quickly. I had thought I might manage to keep the house for this season, but it appears that was overly optimistic.”
Her words made no sense to him. “What is this?”
“I am at the end of my credit, Nicholas. I knew the house would have to be sold this year, but even that was too much to hope.” His aunt took a breath and squared her shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I have a purchase offer from a Sir Murphy Purvis, a newly knighted man of considerable fortune seeking a London home for his family. His four daughters will begin to come out next season and he is most anxious to become established in town.” She sniffed. “I believe he was knighted for positioning a cornerstone, of all things. The matter of import, though, is his fortune, which comes from his trade in silk and laces.” She sighed. “Alas, he has no son.”
Nicholas was astonished. “But your income from investments...”
“The capital is spent at least once over.”
“But the silver...”
“All sold and replaced with plate, my boy, and years ago. My situation has been precarious for some time now.” She sat down heavily. “In a way, it is a relief to welcome the end.”
“But where will you go?”
“I do not know. If Helena is married, perhaps there will be a place for me in her new home.” His aunt, always proud and often overbearing, appeared much diminished to Nicholas. She sighed. “She was my sole hope,” she concluded forlornly.
There was silence between them, a silence broken only by the ticking of the clock upon the mantle. Nicholas realized belatedly that it was the only remaining time piece in the house, and certainly had never been the most expensive one. He calculated, unable to see how he could afford to support both his aunt and his sister, while establishing his stables—even with Haynesdale’s generous price for Southpoint. “You do not ask me to return to the gambling tables,” he said warily.
His aunt met his gaze with a slow smile. “I would never ask that of you, Nicholas. It was your father’s doom, that reckless need for more, and I would not lose you to such a frenzy.” She sighed again. “Ride safely. There is rain in the wind.”
Nicholas hesitated for a moment, wishing he could console her but knowing there was nothing he could say to offer reassurance. “I wish you had told me,” he said finally.
“You have given so much, Nicholas. You think no one knows of your nightmares? And melancholy is your reward after years of service in that war?” She frowned and shook her head. “It is already unjust! I could not have laid another woe at your feet, not for any price.”
Nicholas was touched by her unexpected concern. “Did you tell Helena?”
