Secrets.
As mistress of the viscount’s brother, Mrs. Lewis might well be privy to secrets, either known within the family or toldof them. She might, for example, know where the viscount’s brother had his refuge. Was it possible that Helena could learn some detail that would be of aid to the viscount?
“We will both come,” she said, giving Becky a glance to silence her.
“Miss! Are you sure?”
“We may be able to assist the viscount,” Helena replied in a whisper.
“I am not certain as it is your place to do as much, miss,” Becky whispered back.
Helena was quite certain that it was not her place, but she would strive to learn more anyway.
The boy bobbed his head, then turned to lead them onward. They walked a short distance along the main avenue of Haynesdale Hollow, then the boy turned into a smaller lane. Helena hesitated, considering the darkened and narrow path. Once again, she looked for the viscount, but there was no indication of his return. The lane appeared to be deserted.
The heavy-set man was still watching them, his interest more than disconcerting.
“Down here, my lady,” the boy called, his manner encouraging.
Helena had to learn what she could. It was broad daylight in a busy town. What could befall them? And the viscount would return momentarily, she was certain.
Helena squared her shoulders and followed. The boy remained just ahead of them, and was good to his word. They had not gone thirty steps down the lane before he halted and indicated a door.
It was not a promising entry. The paint was faded and peeling, and the threshold had not been swept. Did anyone live in this abode? If so, their habits were not tidy ones.
“We will not be here long,” the boy supplied. “Mum says that since the viscount provided for us, we will have finer quarters.” He lowered his voice. “This is my uncle’s home.” His manner was so furtive that Helena guessed the uncle was not kindly disposed toward his sister and her son.
“I understand the viscount bought your mother an annuity?”
The boy beamed as he nodded. “And I am to have an apprenticeship if the smith is willing. I should like ever so much to be a smith.”
Helena could not halt her answering smile. “You will have to work hard to learn such skills.”
“But it is all I ever wanted. I cannot wait to begin.”
He was so enthused that Helena found herself wishing him well. She liked the boy, and the viscount was right—his conception could scarce be held against him. She would have knocked upon the door, but he seemed to recall himself. He opened it and ushered her and Becky inside, then closed the door behind them. It took a moment for Helena’s eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior, then she took a step back.
There was a man leaning against the opposite wall, a familiar man whose gaze burned with hatred. “How delightful to encounter you again,” Gerald Hargood said with a bow that seemed slightly mocking. He also moved stiffly as if he had been injured even more than his brother the day before.
Helena supposed she should not have been so glad of that.
“I should never have come if I had known you were waiting,” she said.
“Which is precisely why I ensured you did not know,” he said, gesturing to a bench.
“I will return to Mrs. Jameson’s, thank you.”
“You will not depart without my leave,” he said, his voice hard. “Lock the door, Francis.”
Helena realized that a woman sat beside the hearth, mending in her lap, her gaze locked adoringly upon Gerald. The bolt was shot loudly and Helena’s heart sank. She gripped her parcel tightly, wondering what she could do to ensure their safety. Once again, she had followed impulse – admittedly in a desire to help – and erred mightily. Would the viscount follow them? If he did, he would come to their aid, of that she was certain, but would he know where to look?
The best strategy she could contrive was to keep everyone talking. Perhaps she might discern a solution then.
Helena could only hope.
CHAPTER 13
“Is it true that you are Lord Addersley’s brother?” Helena asked the man before her, as if she had just encountered him at tea in her aunt’s drawing room. “I had understood that Gerald Hargood was among the casualties at Waterloo.”
