Diana grinned at Helen, as their mother, ignoring Fiske, who was examining his shoes, ran her hand through their father’s copper locks, sprinkled with gray. “You have not forgotten how to charm a lady, I’m pleased to see.” She turned to Helen. “When the footman delivered your note, I was utterly horrified. I do hope you weren’t in danger?”
Helen kissed her mother’s cheek. “Not for a minute.” Helen continued to try, unsuccessfully, to banish all thoughts of Peyton. It was unlikely after the ball they would meet again.
“I am eternally grateful to Lord Peyton for dealing with this.Mrs. Chance!Just imagine. When she came to us a year ago after Mrs. Archer retired and went to live with her sister, she presented perfect references. Can we no longer trust anyone?” She studied Helen’s face then gave a quick nod. “We will talk later.”
“The staff expects me at eleven. I must go over the final details before the ball,” Helen said, relieved to have a reprieve before she came under her mother’s sagacious scrutiny. One word about Peyton and she feared she would dissolve into a puddle like one of Cook’s sculptured ices.
Mama smiled. “Thank you, Helen dear. You are a blessing. I am too exhausted and bewildered to be of much use until I have had a nap to refresh me.”
Papa eyed her speculatively for a minute before addressing Toby. “My boy, it is good to see you. I trust you are pleased to be home?”
“I am, Papa. Catching tadpoles for Zander and playing cribbage with Grandfather had begun to pall.”
Her father laughed and ushered them into the morning room. Papa sipped a glass of claret Fiske handed him and, prompted by Toby, related the fascinating highlights of his journey. Wishing she could remain to hear every detail, Helen reluctantly excused herself.
Diana followed Helen out and slipped an arm around her waist as they walked toward the servants’ stairs. “Thank you for taking over from Mrs. Chance. Even though Papa has requested the employment agency send someone, it is far too late.”
Helen smiled. “’Tis my pleasure.”
“You have a natural talent for it, I must say. It would bore me to distraction.” Diana paused, a hand on the newel post. “You’ll make an excellent wife and mother, running your own household.”
Pain clawed at Helen’s heart. “Please don’t, Diana. I beg you.”
“For a sensible person, you are being remarkably dull-witted,” Diana said fiercely. “I hope that Peyton will shake some sense into you!”
Helen watched her sister stalk away. Diana was young and had little understanding of how damning and cruel society could be. She prayed Diana would never experience it as she continued down the stairs. Might it be possible that Peyton would ask her again? She both feared and welcomed it. She could not deny that when he’d kissed her she’d responded with unrestrained passion, her normally practical mind deserting her. She hadn’t wanted his kisses to end, and it had taken all her strength to push him away. If he’d remained a minute longer, she might have weakened and thrown herself into his arms.
A sleepless night brought no solution, leaving her feeling as if she was floating, rudderless in a stormy sea. But to tell him of her past and see the respect he had for her fade from his green eyes would be the end of her.
In the servants’ hall, everyone waited, having responded to her summons. She looked around at the group of expectant faces. “Good morning.” She managed to sound proficient.
An hour later, confident that every last detail had been seen to, Helen reluctantly made her way upstairs. She met her father in the corridor leaving her mother’s boudoir. He winked. “Listen to your mother’s advice, daughter. She is never wrong.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Inside the bedroom, her mother sat alone at the dressing table in her wrap, coiling her hair into a chignon. Her face reflected in the glass bore a healthy flush.
“How is Alexander, Mama? And Grandfather? Did you leave them in good health?”
“Grandfather is well. Alexander’s leg was not broken. It’s merely a bad sprain. He is healing well, although it will take a month or so before he has completely recovered. We’ll talk more about that later.” She turned on the stool. “Your father tells me you have refused Lord Peyton.”
“Yes.” Helen groaned inwardly and sank onto the sofa.
Mama rose to join her. “But why, my dear? It’s an excellent match. And not because he’s an earl; he cares for you.”
“He believes I am something I’m not.”
“Nonsense. He knows exactly who you are. A dear sweet, caring person. I believe he needs a bit of mothering himself.”
“Peyton?” Helen was shocked. She never thought of him that way. He was so commanding, so confident. “He’s a hardened soldier.” The suggestion that he might need her was enticing, and she fought not to let it sway her decision.
“Peyton’s mother died giving birth to his brother. He has been away at war, and now that his father is gone, he is head of the family with all the responsibilities that entails. Who cares for Peyton? He may not be aware that he needs it. Men are inclined to be blind to such things. They feel they must be strong all the time. And find solutions for everything.” She smiled. “But even your intrepid father needs my support and comfort. While I need his strength.” Mama’s eyes grew misty. “And his love.”
Helen leaned close and breathed in her mother’s familiar flowery scent, which was usually reassuring, although not today. “But it wouldn’t be fair to him. He would feel that because he’s asked for my hand, and addressed Papa, he is committed to marrying me.”
“I think you underestimate Peyton.”
“I…I don’t believe I do.”
