“Begging your pardon, m’lady,” Sally said as she entered the sitting room and waited for her mistress to acknowledge her.
Helena had been going through the report for Grace’s dancing lessons. Only four more classes and the course should be finished. The master reported significant improvements in his student. All that could be improved could be done by constant practice. She imagined Grace twirling about as a little girl pretending to be accepting dance offers from imaginary partners. And now here she was, an accomplished student of a master.
More than the skill, Helana was glad for the confidence it would instill in her sister—though admittedly, Grace was the last person who needed more confidence. What enjoyable nights her dancing would bring, what pleasant experiences.
Helena smiled and nodded, very satisfied with the outcome. She made a note to have the last of the dancing master’s fee prepared. Of course, this meant that Grace must start having regular practices if she were to maintain her knowledge of the dances.
That meant she would be requiring a partner. Faith was out of the question; she could not lead at all.
“Perhaps I can do it,” Helena spoke to herself.
It was normally Chastity whom they practiced with, for she could lead, but Chastity was… well, she was unavailable.
A male partner would be ideal, of course, but there were none to be had. If Matteo could—no, Matteo could not possibly. She rebuked herself for her woolgathering, but could not help it when her mind went to the times that they had danced together. He was skilled on the dance floor, and she thought that?—
“Ahem,” Sally cleared her throat discreetly. “M’lady?”
“Oh!” Helena turned to find Sally by the door. She smiled apologetically at her lady’s maid. “You must excuse me, Sally, my mind is quite full at the moment. Is there something you wanted?”
“Your mother is calling for you, m’lady,” Sally said. “You are to proceed to her sitting room.”
“Thank you, Sally, I shall be along directly.”
Helena finished her notes. She stood up and smoothed her skirts. She took a deep breath.
Helena had not spoken to her mother since she had lectured her for failing in her duties for Chastity. Not even after Matteo had spoken to her father about Chastity had she summoned Helena again.
As far as she knew, her mother believed as her father did that it was Helena who directed Matteo to marry Chastity instead of her.
Helena smiled bitterly; they had not even asked her how she felt about the turn of events. No, her parents only cared about the results. She should have been used to it by now, but she apparently still held hope that her parents cared for their children, though they did not show it.
She walked the length of the hallway to her mother’s bedchambers and, upon reaching it, knocked on the door. Her mother’s lady’s maid opened the door and asked her to come in.
The Countess of Huntington’s sitting room was both elegant and feminine. The walls were papered in pink and green and were accentuated with gold. Flowers, paintings, and sculptures were placed to enhance the furniture in the room. It reflected her tastes perfectly.
In the middle of the room, her mother sat facing the fireplace, teacup in hand.
“Come and sit down, Helena,” her mother said.
She dismissed her lady’s maid and gestured to her eldest daughter.
“Tea?” she asked.
When Helena nodded, Lady Clarissa poured her a cup.
“How are the preparations for tomorrow?” she asked.
“Everything is in order, Mama. All we need is the bride and the groom, and it shall be a complete event.”
“Very good.”
The countess nodded her approval, then, after a while, frowned.
“This was a very close call, Chastity, but as your father said, we shall overlook it since it did give us the results that we were after.”
“I thank you for your magnanimity,” Helena said.
If Lady Clarissa heard the trace of mockery in her voice, she did not react to it.
