The butler frowned. “But you had a dancing master to tutor you and Master Gerald, sir. I recall that you both excelled at dancing.”
“My father demanded my promise to abandon such frivolities and I mean to keep my vow.”
“I can well imagine his disapproval of the excesses possible in London, sir, but dancing?”
“He expressly included it as a deed to be avoided.”
The butler frowned. He made to turn away, then turned back again, his indecision and consternation such that Joshua had to ask.
“Is there something you would say, Fairfax?”
“Only that I cannot credit it, sir. I believe your assertion, of course, for you made it, but your father, also, danced himself with notable grace and enthusiasm. Why, he and your mother hosted any number of gatherings with dancing, sometimes as many as one a month.” He smiled in recollection. “Your mother loved to dance.”
“I do not recall him dancing,” Joshua was compelled to note, for it was true.
The butler grimaced. “I fear, sir, that there was only one partner he desired. I never knew him to dance after your mother’s demise.”
Joshua nodded. “But he danced, you say?”
“Oh yes, sir. If I may be so bold to make a suggestion, perhaps it was your dancing companions in London of which he disapproved.”
It could be true. Joshua and Gerald had danced with courtesans, actresses, whores and widows of dubious repute.
They had danced in gaming dens, at gatherings where Cyprians were in attendance, at the theatre and at other venues of dubious repute.
They had danced in various squares, at all hours of the night, and in the dew of drunken mornings. Such dancing had often been accompanied by indulgence in other pleasures, like that of brandy, and invariably led to other excesses.
But dancing at Haynesdale House, under the watchful gazes of dozens of his respectable neighbors, escorting ladies of impeccable reputations, in a sedate and orderly manner, might not fall under his father’s injunction.
It was certainly a matter to consider.
Joshua nodded. “Thank you, Fairfax. That is a notion to consider. In the meantime, since we have no good notion of when these items vanished, I see little point in alerting the household to our suspicions.”
“Doubtless, they have been sold already, sir,” Fairfax agreed.
Joshua consulted his watch. “It is too late to ride to Haynesdale Hollow and consult with the silversmith there, but I will do as much in the morning.”
“Excellent, my lord. In the meantime, I would compile a list of every item we know to have vanished. If you might provide assistance, sir. There are some items I have not seen for years, though it is possible your father had them sent to London without my knowledge.”
“We will work together, Fairfax,” Joshua resolved, opening the console to begin the task.
Even though Mrs. Jamesonhad called and there was the promise of new satin slippers in Helena’s future, the day passed slowly.
It was, to Helena’s thinking, a portent of her future at Bramble Cottage—interminable days one after the other, stretching long into her future, only the rare prospect of new slippers to provide a measure of interest.
Aunt had been sorting linens with a vengeance, inspired by Nixon’s energetic cleaning of the house to put every detail in order. Mr. Nixon worked steadily for all his casual manner, and made remarkable progress on the overgrown hedges and garden. The surroundings of Bramble Cottage looked markedly more civilized. Becky had finished the mending, happily sitting with the restless Helena most of the day.
Helena had missed her champion. She had missed Mischief. She had missed the viscount, and she recalled the tale he had shared. She was impatient to do more than sit and heal, but had no choice in the matter.
She supposed there was a lesson in that, a reminder that following impulse could lead her astray. There was Mr. Melbourne, a lesson in the price of misplaced trust, and now her ankle, a lesson in the folly of solitary excursions. Try as she might, she could not consider her night ride with her champion to be a lesson in any kind of folly.
It had been lovely and romantic. He was so gallant. Her trust was not misplaced there, even though she was not certain of his name. But what a tale that would be! The viscount’s brother, alive and well, returned to Addersley to take her, Miss Helena Emerson, as his bride.
There was a future to dream about.
Yet Helena passed a sleepless night. She was torn between the hope that her champion would come to her again, and the fear that he would not. What would she would do if he did appear? Did she dare to break the injunction against leaving the house alone to meet him? The viscount would not have hesitated to avoid temptation, but Helena knew she did not possess his resolve. How had he abandoned all pleasures, even at his father’s dictate, and done so at once? She could not even deny the temptation of one small digression.
In the end, she did not have to choose for her champion did not come.
