Not just a pleasant night, not a good night, but athoroughly lovelynight. Helena raised both eyebrows at her sister.
“I am glad that you found it so, Chastity.”
The flame of the candle she held flickered as Chastity’s twirling movements almost blew it out. Moving slightly away, she blocked her sister’s hand as it almost knocked the candle down. In the process, Chastity’s reticule slipped from her wrist and fell to the floor.
With a gasp, Chastity bent down to retrieve the reticule and its contents, which had spilled on the floor.
“My goodness, Chastity!” Helena laughed. I have not seen you this excited since your first set of ball gowns was delivered.”
She placed the candle on a window ledge and was in the act of bending down to help when Chastity stopped her.
“No! It is alright, I have everything I need!”
Chastity’s hands moved quickly and gathered her things. But not fast enough for Helena’s sharp eyes to notice that she tucked something hastily back inside her reticule while her other items—handkerchief, calling cards, and smelling salts—she merely grasped in her hands.
Was that a piece of parchment? A letter? She thought incredulously.
Is Chastity hiding a letter from me? But why would she feel the need to hide correspondence?
Chastity had resumed walking, and Helena followed her. She was about to call out to her as the question formed on her lips, when she remembered their last argument. How Chastity felt that Helena was controlling her whole life for her. If she prodded her sister, a repeat of that night’s happenings might occur. She would be lenient with her, at least for now.
They had reached Chastity’s chambers, and before she had any more fantastical ideas, Helena bade her sister a good night.
Inside her own chambers, Helena placed the candle on her desk and rang for Sally. She moved to her vanity table and started undoing her hair from its chignon. From experience, she expected Sally to arrive just as she needed help removing her stays, for, by Helena’s own instructions, she should help Chastity first.
Thus, was her surprise when Sally entered her chambers much earlier than she had expected.
“Have you finished with Chastity? That was exceptionally fast.”
Sally curtsied.
“No, my lady, she said that she could manage after I helped her with her stays,”
“Oh. Alright.” Helena murmured more to herself.
When her toilette for the night was complete, she bade Sally a good night and entered her bedroom.
Thoughts of Matteo flooded her mind when she was finally alone. It was as if she had pushed open the drapes and let the morning sunlight in. His handsome face floated around her mind; the way his eyes sparkled when he was teasing her, the tone of his voice when he was trying to charm her, even the shameless way he flirted with her.
Things between them had changed. The tension which had normally been there when they met—at least on her part—was gone; in its place was something softer, something quieter. But Helena could not name it, or perhaps, more accurately, she refused to name it.
But one thing she could not deny, and it was that she looked forward to seeing him every time. The days that she was to spendwith him were days that held more color for Helena. Life had somehow become morealive. It was as if she had seen color for the first time.
Abruptly, she stopped herself. What was she thinking?
Walking to the windows, Helena pushed open the drapes and watched a sleeping London. She looked at her reflection in the windowpanes.
“What are you doing, Helena?” she murmured to her other self. “It is not real, have you forgotten that?”
“Of course I have not,” she replied to herself as well.
But a small voice, she pretended not to hear, was whispering that, indeed, there was something real in all of it.
Not very far from Huntington House, Matteo was having a conversation in his own mind as well.
But it was a lady with cornflower blue eyes and golden hair who replied to him. A lady with a face that he could not quite get out of his mind. A face he was beginning to welcome—in his mind or in the open light of day.
Inside his bedchamber, he paced the length of the room, a glass of brandy in hand. Matteo did not normally have a bottle, or adecanter, of spirits in his chambers, but his valet had left the decanter for him, as if sensing the restlessness that pervaded him that night.
