“We were reckless last night,” she said. “I did not seek you out to be... to be contentious.”
“You’re worried aboutcontention?” He made a choking noise.
“Yes, of course. But here is not the place to discuss it.” She couldn’t entertain an apology. If he thought she was traumatized by kissing him, he was wrong. She’d come alive when she’d kissed him.
She moved away, wrinkling her nose. “I’m going back in,” she sighed, but she didn’t move.
“You steal away into the night,” he marveled, “creep around dark stables with your groom, butthese womenyou find challenging?”
“These women,” she said, “have feasted on the gossip of my evasions these last five years, and now they feast on the gossip of me being brought to heel. They look innocent to you, don’t they? Of course they do. Their voices are hushed, their movements are restricted. Do not be fooled. They achieve this through tight corsets and tighter breeding, but they will not bind and breed me. How right my grandmother was to warn me.”
“And you believe they cannot see your disdain?”
“They don’t care if I’m disdainful.” Helena sighed, drifting away. “They only care if I do as I’m told.”
With this, she melted back into the party. A half hour later, she returned with: “Lady Genevieve Vance, daughter of the Earl of Nooning. Classic English rose with blonde hair and blue eyes. She lives in Blenheim Street but can be frequently found in the shops; she has accounts all around Mayfair. Jewelry and hats are a particular favorite. She would leap at a chance for the Lusk fortune.” Helena wrinkled up her nose. “Apparently.”
“So terrible, a fortune,” he mumbled, not looking up from his notes.
“Write it down,” she whispered. “Lady Genevieve Vance, with the shopping and the money.AndLady Rodericka Newton, daughter of Viscount Jennings. Apparently she has a great wish for a high-ranking title simply because she loves to manage things. The family is from Yorkshire but they live in Curzon Street when they are in London. I can apparently encounter her at any society ball or function. She and her mother are said never to decline an invitation. She has black hair and hazel eyes.”
Shaw was shaking his head, but he scribbled the notes. Helena forced herself to feign interest in the gifts. Snatching a box at random, she held it up and examined its peach-colored tissue and mossy ribbon. The longer the list grew, the more eager Helena became to have it in her possession.
“You’ve been very good to do this, Shaw,” she said, looking up at the sky. “I—Your participation has exceeded my expectations. I cannot say what I expected, but it was not this.”
“You and I both,” he mumbled.
Dark rain clouds had begun to scuttle the sun and the garden was cast in dark shadows. A chilly wind descended, strewing linen napkins and fluttering hat feathers.
“I believe this party may meet an untimely end,” she said, backing away. “I’d feel better if I had one more name. I cannot say when I’ll have this opportunity again. Let me take one final turn.”
A quarter hour later, she returned with, “MissJoanna Keep. She resides in Cumberland Place but spends her days at her uncle’s medical office in Wimpole Street. Apparently she is his apprentice. He’s a surgeon of some merit. She has a fascination with sickness and healing and surgical theaters. They say she would do anything to marry a duke because of the access to hospitals she’d enjoy as duchess.” Helena let out a deep breath. “I cannot imagine that Lusk would fancy someone quite so high-minded, but apparently she is very beautiful. Curly blonde hair, the usual.”
Shaw stared at her a long moment, almost as if he thought she’d made the whole thing up.
“What?” she said. “Can you not take it down?”
He continued to look, his brown eyes blinking, and then took up the pen and scribbled. “That makes seven,” he said.
She nodded, staring at the storm clouds. “It will have to be enough. This party will soon enjoy a very cold, very thorough soaking. Lady Canning has said she will move us inside, but hopefully rain will send everyone home instead.”
And now, the moment of truth.
She held out a hand. “Thank you for helping me,” she said. “I’ll take the list now, if you please.”
Shaw stared over her shoulder. His expression was unreadable.
“Shaw?”
“Look smart,” he whispered. “Your mother.”
Helena turned to see the countess marching across the garden, waving at guests as they disappeared into the house.
“Helena?” called the countess. Her sisters trailedbehind like ducklings. “Helena, every time I look, you are in the shadows, talking to staff. Come away from there at once. The rain has held, but the sky may open at any moment. The guests are leaving and we must see them off.”
“I’m reminding myself of the gifts, Mama,” she called, “so I may thank departing guests. My groom Shaw has a list.”
The countess reached them, shaking her head. “Do not touch a gift on this table, Shaw,” ordered Lady Pembrook. “Titus has an elaborate protocol for ducal correspondence and the proper inventorying and displaying of gifts.”
